“The best Thanksgiving ever:” A 1920s Celebration

football turkey

The connection between football and Thanksgiving seems to go way back…

On November 28,1926, Marcus sent his big sister Eleanor a report on Thanksgiving back home.   He thought it was “The best Thanksgiving I ever had” even though “I didn’t get enough turkey.”  It wasn’t having the dressing, sides, or pies in the cement house that made the holiday so special that year.  The real reason?

  “I WENT TO THE MOVIES 2 on THANKSGIVING.”

(The “2” is short for “twice.”)

mfrenchpage[1]

After the holiday feast the family went to the Strand Theater to see “Rin Tin Tin: The Hero of the Big Snows,” which Marcus said was “dandy.” He’d seen at least one other film starring the German shepherd war hero and star of the silver screen.

hero of the big snowsAfter this stirring yarn, in which Rinty saves a child from a vicious black wolf, it was time for something completely different, the “funny picture.”  Marcus doesn’t give the title but does mention that it starred Harold Lloyd.  According to Marcus, “the goofiest picture I ever saw.”  mfrenchpage[2]Maybe the “funny picture” Marcus saw was the full-length silent, “For Heaven’s Sake,”  the only movie Lloyd released that year.  This chase sequence is pretty goofy, by all objective standards.  harold lloyd heavensThe family went to supper before heading off to the Rialto (the theater’s façade still exists in New Amsterdam) to take in a vaudeville show and another unidentified “goofy picture.”   Marcus had more important things to share with Eleanor than details about his third picture show of the day, like his preliminary Christmas list.mfrenchpage[3]He promised to send his big sister an updated and expanded list soon instead of asking what SHE might like from Santa.  I was able to find pictures of some of the things Marcus coveted.  Here’s an advertisement for the major manufacturer of bicycle cyclometers:

vreeder odometer

The manufacturer’s jingle for this product line was “It’s nice to know how far you go.”

And this might be pretty close to the basketball and the cover on the list:vintage-basketball-carrierAfter some perfunctory chat about the weather, Marcus closed with the Pathe News, this time a seasonal story in two frames, written and illustrated by himself: mfrenchpage[4]Is this graphic depiction of a turkey’s slaughter and consumption a sign that Marcus was a budding sociopath?  Probably not.  These contemporary Thanksgiving greeting cards send the message that Americans were a whole lot more matter of fact and a whole lot less squeamish than we are when it comes to meat-eating…

Marcus also wrote about his adventures trick-or-treating and his battles with the algebra teacher.   Just as amusing is The Flapper’s Magazette by Miss Vivie Wivie…

boy ax turkeyturkey boy knifeSo enjoy your Thanksgiving weekend, whether you are finishing off leftovers from the bird or that tasty vegan mushroom gravy…

Holiday greetings from Team Cotsen

Andrea, Dana, Ellen, Ian, Jeff, Marissa, Minjie, Miranda, and Miriam

archimboldo thanksgiving

James Daugherty, “Advance-Guard Wolf in Square Sheep’s Clothing,” Roars into Cotsen

Thanks to the generosity of John Solum, ’57 and the Friends of James Daugherty Foundation, Cotsen has received a major gift of books and artwork by the prolific and versatile James Daugherty (1887-1974), modernist painter, WPA muralist, and children’s book illustrator.

daugherty port

In American Picturebooks from Noah’s Ark to The Beast Within (1976), Barbara Bader has this to say about him:

When James Daugherty came to the attention of the book world, juvenile and adult, as the illustrator of Stewart Edward White’s Daniel Boone (1926), he was known elsewhere as a painter of “synchronist” abstractions derived from Delaunay, Matisse,  Cezanne– a reminder that  “James Daugherty, Buckskin Illustrator,” “as thoroughly American as Fanueil Hall,” had drunk at other waters besides the Wabash. (“An advance-guard wolf in square sheep’s clothing,” Hilton Kramer called him years later.”)

04-james-daugherty_nocrop_w529_h459

James Daugherty, “3 Base Hit” (1914)

For Daugherty, the frontier of Boone and Davy Crockett was a childhood legacy.  As a young man he absorbed Europe and especially its Baroque art. World War I found him working for the Navy, camouflaging ships (in cubist shapes) and designing posters.  The Twenties brought exhibitions at the Societe Anonyme… and commissions for murals at those “palaces of the people,” Loew’s movie theaters.

daugherty state theater cleveland mural

Three of the four murals James Daugherty painted in 1920 for Loew’s State Theater in Cleveland.

Out of all this came, somehow, the massive figures, the swirling forms and fluid rhythms that are Daugherty’s signature, and a long and immensely busy career as a book illustrator.

34308_1

Like many mid-century American children’s book creators, Daugherty’s reputation has fallen off.   In the early twenty-first century, his writing style can seem overly grandiose for a young audience and his portrayal of  Native Americans in the sweep of America’s manifest destiny is distasteful to many: the majority of reviewers on GoodReads agreed that they would not read  to their children Daugherty’s Daniel Boone, the winner of the 1939 Newbery medal, although a good number admired the illustrations in spite of reservations.  Blogger Peter D. Sieruta showed the similarities between the images of Native Americans in Daugherty’s mural “The Life and Times of General Israel Putnam of Connecticut” and the ones in his Newbery award-winning biography.  Certainly the depiction of the relationship between the English colonists and  Native Americans in Edgar and Ingri d’Aulaire’s once classic picture book biography of Pocahantas looks very different in 2015 than it did in 1946.

daugherty israel putnam mural

Daugherty’s controversial “Israel Putnam” mural at the Greenwich Public Library in Connecticut.

The history of children’s books is hardly free from controversy, as anyone knows who has been following the online discussion over the last two weeks about the picture book A Fine Dessert by Emily Jenkins and Sophie Blackall. The rare books stacks in the Cotsen Children’s Library contain a great deal of material that few librarians, teachers, or parents would feel comfortable showing to little children now. But once that material was thought appropriate (rightly or wrongly) and helping researchers document and understand the whys behind the shifts in values is part of Cotsen’s mission as a special collection of historical illustrated children’s books.

The gift of the Daugherty archive could be of potential interest to a researcher interested in tracing how American history has been retold in children’s books so that includes the stories of racial and ethnic minorities.  Another person might want to explore the issues underlying  the desire to present a heroic view of our nation’s past in spite of the legacies of slavery and government policies that forcibly removed tribes from traditional homelands.  A third might wonder about the influence of primitivism upon children’s book illustrators drawing Native Americans or African-Americans.

Cotsen now owns a copy of every children’s book Daugherty illustrated and  a gap has been filled in its collection of American children’s books 1920-1970.  Sixty of those children’s books came with a file of the original drawings and nine include maquettes as well: Daniel Boone, The Gettysburg Address, Of Courage Undaunted, The Sound of Trumpets, Thoreau, West of Boston, The Wild Wild West, and The Wisher.  The gift of 427 drawings also comprises designs for twenty dust jackets and materials from projects Daugherty never completed such as The Terrific Rabbit, or Nothing to Fear, A Book of Rogues and Rascals and Other Merry Men, and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.  In spite of the size, the collection should be straightforward to process, thanks to donor John Solum, who took the time to organize all the drawings by the book they were made for and, as the icing on the cake, to identify the pages on which they appeared.

daugherty wild westdaugherty lincoln

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Coda

Daugherty had a lighter side, as this cover he designed for The New Yorker in the 1920s shows.  Sharp-eyed readers will notice that he signed it with his pseudonym”Jimmie the Ink” near the figure’s right calf.

james-daugherty-the-new-yorker-cover-september-5-1925

The Daugherty gift includes some wonderful artwork from Jimmie the Ink’s first and most famous picture book, Andy and the Lion (1938), an all-American retelling of “Androcles and the Lion.”  The manuscript was on display in “The ABC of It: Why Children’s Books Matter,” curated by Leonard Marcus for the New York Public Library. But Daugherty didn’t give NYPL everything for Andy! The Friends of James Daugherty Foundation presented Cotsen with a trial design for the title page signed “Jimmie the Ink” along with the splendid design for the endpapers.

andyandtheliontitlepage

andyandthelionendpapers