Who Filled in William Cole’s Poetry-Drawing Book? Feiffer, Stamaty, Gorey…


The Poetry-Drawing Book (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1960) was supposed to provide children with a substitute for coloring books, which co-editors William Cole and Julia Colmore believed were “insulting to their imagination and intelligence” with “the banal and badly drawn” pictures.  Their volume was designed with a blank page facing each poem, space for a boy or girl to draw whatever ideas the reading of the poem prompted.  To facilitate self-expression with pencil, crayons, or watercolors, the book was spiral-bound so that it would lay flat on a table (or the floor).  Cole and Colmore argued that this concept would encourage “a child’s innate sense of color and design, and to give free rein to his imagination.  At the same time our book functions as an introduction to the magical world of poetry.”

Bill Cole was not an educator, but a journalist, publicity director, publisher, board member of the  Poetry Society of America and Poets and Writers, and connoisseur of light verse and knock-knock jokes.  The Poetry-Drawing Book was just one of many anthologies he produced for children over his long career.

cole_ungererCotsen’s collection of manuscripts includes a very special copy of The Poetry-Drawing Book, whose purchase was underwritten several years ago by the Friends of the Princeton University Library.  It belonged to Cole  and his penciled initials are in the upper-left-hand corner just above the plates the clown is juggling.  Cole and Colmore claimed that the book had been “tried out on hundreds of children” and perhaps a few of the “enriching, enlightening, and often hilarious” results were selected to go on the cover.ctsn_ms_unproc_item_4347646_cover

Cole’s son Rossa grew up to be a professional photographer, but the Cotsen copy of The Poetry-Activity Book does not happen to be filled with the little boy’s drawings.   Cole intended it to be a showcase for somewhat older aspiring artists.

There is a drawing by the thirty-one-year old Jules Feiffer, political satirist and illustrator of Norton Juster’s The Phantom Tollbooth.

To deliver a message of good cheer satirist Jules Feiffer, photographed in New York City, March 3, 1976, has chosen theater rather than cartoons. The result is "Knock Knock," his hit Broadway farce. (AP Photo/Jerry Mosey)

Jules Feiffer in 1976 (AP Photo/Jerry Mosey).


Feiffer was born in 1929. If he was thirty-one when he painted this rather ominous feline, then he must have done it in 1960.

And another by twenty-eight-year old cartoonist Mark Alan Stamaty, author/illustrator of Who Needs Doughnuts (1973) and Alia’s Mission: Saving the Books of Iraq (2004).



If Stamaty was born in 1947 and he drew the rootin’ tootin’ shootin’ television when he was twenty-eight, then his page was completed in 1975.

Another surprise is this elaborate color drawing by a master of the macabre in black and white, Edward Gorey, then thirty six.edward-gorey-3


This enchanting vision of the snake in the garden would have been executed in 1961 by the thirty-six-year-old Gorey, who was born in 1929.

And that’s what happens when you give an artist a blank page…

Peter Parley Promoter and the Prehistory of Product Placement


Peter Parley stands center stage, holding up copies of the 1868 Annual for his eager readers. Peter Parley’s Annual: A Christmas and New Year’s Present for Young People. London: Darton and Co., 1868 (Cotsen 70617).

“Christmas Bells and Peter Parley’s Annual have been for many, many years associated in the affections of the rising generation all the world over.  But it is my earnest hope,” declared the avuncular editor, “that my young friends will find amongst the stores of entertainment I have this year provided for them something more durable than Christmas chimes–something that when the merry cadences of those bells have died away, and the pudding is gone, and the holly is taken down and cast into the fire, will serve to make them a Christmas all the year round.”   And what exactly is Peter Parley’s contribution to the promised Annual feast?   “Every variety of wholesome entertainment” larded with knowledge.

But fine words butter no parsnips and a book can’t be judged by its cover.  Does Peter Parley’s Annual for 1868 also contain “things to delight the eye” more than they “gratify the mind,” like its gold-stamped binding decorated with tops, cricket bats, kites, and butterflies?

Among the “things to delight the eye” in the 1868 Annual are  seven color-printed wood-engraved plates, neatly signed “W. Dickes” in the lower right hand corner.  The ones of marine life are particularly nice.


Plate facing p. 110 (Cotsen 70617).


Plate facing p. 174 (Cotsen 70617).

And who took out a full-page illustrated announcement in “Peter Parley’s Annual Advertiser” at the end–William Dickes.  He must have reasoned that if there were an informative advertisement for his full-service business proximate to his fine plates, some papas looking at the book with their children might be inspired to engage the “artist, engraver on wood, lithographer, and oil colour printer” for some venture.


P. 320 in Peter Parley’s Annual Advertiser (Cotsen 70617).

A similar tactic to drum up business was used by another contributor to the 1868 volume.  Eugene Rimmel wrote an article entitled, “Sweet Things at the Paris Exhibition,” but he did not set out to enumerate all the marvelous confections invented for the delight of our palates and the ruin of our teeth” that were arrayed at the World’s Fair–“the lolypops of England, the bonbons of France, the confetti of Italy, the chocolate of Spain, the Lebkuchen of Germany, the biscottes of Belgium, the rahat lakoum of Turkey, the preserved ginger of India, the guava jelly of South America.”   His subject was perfume and one of the marvels described at the Exhibition was a cottage in which “a complete collection of perfumery materials, a still at work, and models of all the implements used in the trade” were on view.


P. 167 (Cotsen 70617).

And if M. Rimmel’s readers were unable to visit the cottage in person, they could learn about the sweet olfactory art in his Book of Perfumes, which was one of Christmas novelties that could be purchased at any of three convenient locations in London.


Detail from p. 315 in Peter Parley’s Annual Advertiser (Cotsen 70617).

The enterprising Mr. John Davies surely would have imitated Dickes and Rimmel, if the contents of the Annual had featured an appropriate selection.  But perhaps it was just as well that there wasn’t…


Is the affecting poem “She never smiles” the work of John Davies, surgeon-dentist, or his brother Maurice, the inventor of Royal Balmoral Tooth Paste? We may never know. P. 342 in Peter Parley’s Annual Advertiser (Cotsen 70617).

The advertising supplements at the end of the Peter Parley Annuals are an excellent way to get an idea of what Victorians bought and to speculate what real or imagined need, the products were supposed to satisfy.  Print and digital facsimiles often exclude this kind of –another reason for collecting the old books.