A BOAT TO REMEMBER

Build Your Own Sailboat! 

BLUEPRINTS 

Only $15!

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It was something like that, the small teaser in Family Circle magazine in the year 1973. David is the youngest of our five children, youngest of three boys. We sent for the plans and were soon embarked on an exciting adventure.

The pictures for the most part tell the story.

Checking over the blueprints.

Ready to set sail . . . . . . . . not quite.

Dad lends a hand.

Dave thinks things over.

Dave thinks some more.

===================

Working for the hull of it.

Making sure she's water tight.

 We're getting there . . . 

 . . . Slowly.

Hey, it's beginning to look like a boat!

Sister Andi lends a hand.

OUT TO LAUNCH!

SPLASHED!

Bending the sails
 

Reeving the main halyard

Reeving (detail)

Prepare to raise the main!

And  he's off!

All we need is wind.

Dad's doing his best.

It would be nice to think that my mentoring during this project is greatly responsible for the amazing talents that blossomed later in David's life. Seems as if he can fix most anything, build anything; much like his two older brothers Jim and John. However, those who are aware of my expertise in all but one or two* areas, would soon have great difficulty in suppressing giant guffaws and super size sniggles. (* better limit that to one.)

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I only wish we had pictures showing Andi and me, sitting on the underside of the scuttled D&D, being towed to shore by the kindly skipper of a passing power boat. Talk about humiliation.

All hands involved in this caper had fun. Hey, we did, didn't we?

The Magic of Cartooning

By now, if you've been more than a casual visitor of Jim's Muses you're aware of my penchant for cartooning and magic. The former has allowed me to put bread on the table since the early 50s. The latter, a few crumbs, by virtue of doing many shows for children's birthday parties, service clubs and Farm Bureau dinners during approximately the same period. The Morris talent agency never called me.

Although a real job (twenty-nine years at a radio station) almost derailed me from my first love—cartooning-- I continued drawing and submitting my work to many of the major magazines of the day. There were occasional sales, enough to keep the passion at least warm if not red hot. It was not until Bernita and I moved to San Diego from Watkins Glen, NY that things began to click for me as a freelance cartoonist. What I'd wanted all along.

Enough background.

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During the past few years I've read two great autobiographical books by cartoonists whose work I admire. Coincidentally, both books commemorate twenty-five years in the careers of these talented artists.

First:

Isn't that a great cover? It's only a teaser to the captivating chapters within, beginning with the excitement of Borgman's winning of the Pulitzer Prize in 1991 for editorial cartooning. He was 37 years old, had been The Cincinnati Inquirer's cartoonist for 15 years.

The topics covered in 14 chapters touch upon Jim's early years—growing up, education, his early interest in . . . just about everything. Chapter 5 features his favorite Borgman cartoons; turns out, they pretty much mirror my choices in the book too.

There is so much to be enjoyed within the 208 pages of M25YATCE! Amazing art, revealing articles written by the author's co-workers, and through this book you'll meet one of America's best editorial cartoonists.

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The other book celebrating 25 years is by Greg Evans whom I've had the pleasure of knowing--- and counting as friend--- a like number of years. In fact, it was Greg who introduced me to Jim Borgman at one of the National Cartoonists Society's annual conventions. How could I have been so lucky?

LUANN 25 YEARS is a treat, cover to cover; it covers not only the title character's genesis, but the life story of her creator as well. (Both narratives are “fascinating” beyond comprehension, as the word on the cover would indicate) We see the very first drawings of the some-day-to-be famous cartoonist and a photo of Evans when he was about the same age as Luann when the comic strip began in newspapers in 1985. There's no dearth of Luann comic strips, beginning with the initial Sunday page and daily strip. Those two entries portray her as a pre-teenager. By page 273--- a few hundred strips later--- Luann is totally grown up . . . and so is Greg.

I enjoyed this book so much and recommend it wholeheartedly to anyone; aspiring cartoonists especially, will find it inspirational and motivating.

Final word about these two excellent artists: Each is the recipient of the Reuben, which is the Oscar of the National Cartoonists Society, signifying Cartoonist of the Year. Jim in 1993; Greg in 2004.

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Originally, the plan was to chat some about the second of my passions: magic. But I'll have to save that for next time. You see, all the material I had put aside for that posting-----suddenly vanished!

I'll wait right here 'til I remember the magic word to bring it all back.

Thanks for looking in and I appreciate your sharing the link.

monthlymissive-jimvtoons.blogspot.com

Jim

LISTEN UP, BELLA !

         

“I say, Bella . . .”

“Yes, Jim?”

      












“I've been meaning to talk with you about something.”

“Yes, Jim?”

“Let's talk a walk. We'll talk outdoors.”

“YES, Jim.”

“The agapantha blossoms are a bit past prime, but they're still pretty, aren't they?

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And you have to love that jacaranda color!

“Right.”

“OK, let's cut to the chase. No, wait! Wrong metaphor. Let's talk about your difficulty when you meet people—-and other animals, if you'll pardon the expression.  You get so excited! You want to jump up to greet them--- lick their faces.”

“Well, don't YOU, Jim?”

“I'll ignore that remark, Bella.

“It was long before your time, but years ago, Bernita and I lived with another dog;   Frankie was his name—short for frankfurter, or wiener dog. One of his best friends (and ours) was Dishes, a CAT, Bella. A CAT!  Dishes and Frankie got along together exceptionally well. Imagine that.

“I just want you to consider how much more pleasant it would be if you would aspire to emulate the Dishes and Frankie relationship as you go about your daily routine. Think about it Bella.”

“I'm thinking.”

“All right. Shall we go home now, enjoy a snack on the balcony?”

“Sounds like a winner to me, Jim.”

“I'm glad we had this little talk. Good to get things straightened out, eh? There won't be any more scenes when folks come to visit, or when you see a cat, a crow or creature of any sort, will there, Bella?”

“I'm thinking. I'm thinking.”
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Next time:  Boat building in the garage.


Thanks for stopping by.
Jim

Potpourri . . . for sure.

 This edition of Jim's Muses was to have related to--in ole fren Paul Gringle's words-- “This, that, and other thing.”

So, let's relate.

 

This: a picture of me when I was Tom Mix (circa 1936)

That: The song I sang when Tom Mix was on the radio.

When it's Ralston time at breakfast, then it surely is a treat to have some rich full flavored Ralston
made of golden western wheat! Wrangler says it is deeeeelicious, and you'll find so 'fore you're through;
with a lot of cream, it sure tastes keen.
It's tops for breakfast too!
Ask your mother in the morning,serve you up a steaming plate. It's a grand hot whole-wheat cereal
And the cowboys think it's great.
Once you try it, you stay by it, Tom Mix says its swell to eat. Jane and Jimmy, too, say it's best for you
Ralston cereal can't be beat.

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The other thing(s): This great picture from my mother's photo album. Uncle Arthur (we called him Bucky), Aunt Margaret, and my cousin Marjorie—who used to baby sit my brother Dann and me. They sure look like the hardy homesteaders don't they? Love that 

image

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Three outstanding men died within the past few weeks. One, Jim Unger, a cartoonist possessing unusual style and humor. He drew the unique newspaper panel Herman.

Ray Bradbury, he took science fiction aficionados to depths and heights never before experienced between the covers of a book or a magazine, a TV or movie screen,or-- back to radio—prophesying, as he often did in a scary manner. I think of Fahrenheit 451

Finally, Dick Beals, whose voice was Speedy Alka-Seltzer's. (Plop, plop, fizz, fizz –oh, what a relief it is) Dick was 4' 6”, but a giant talent. I bought his book Think BIG in 1992; we became friends, I had him talk to our cartoonists' club twice.

Nothing seemed beyond his capabilities. He was an instrument rated pilot, coached high school baseball/football, partnered in an ad agency. I'm happy to have had Dick as a friend. Raise a glass to all three for how they each enriched our lives!

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The prerequisite VINCENT strip reveals that one of his problems is similar to mine: his hearing gives him grief.

Hope you'll stop by again soon. And Thanks.

JIM

PS: Large type, at no extra cost - - - for those of us who appreciate nice niceties.

Ole Fren

Often, Paul Gringle used that phrase. Ole Fren.              

He scribbled it on notes, letters, his wonderful
personalized birthday cards; he used it sometimes 
to sign off the column he wrote for A Slice of Wry, 
the newsletter for ourSouthern California Cartoonists Society.

Those of us in this business, especially the old timers, remember Paul's work on Out Our Way, one of the most popular newspaper features in the late 40's and 50's.

Families in small towns and rural America, their various activities and regular routines; that was the stuff of Out Our Way, and it introduced a cast of characters, including The Willetts, The Worry Wart and myriad popular themes so well portrayed that clippings of the cartoon were posted on more refrigerators than Carter had Little Liver Pills. (Again, you have to be an old timer to get the analogy.) Why Mothers Get Gray, Born Thirty Years Too Soon and Heroes Are Made, Not Born were classics that mirrored many of our insecurities, aspirations and frustrations. 

When J.R. Williams, who created the panel died in1957 Paul was one of the artists to pick up the pen and carry on. Out Our Way continued another twenty years. They done good.

*********************************

For the better part of 26 years I've been happy to have been one of “derGringle's” Ole Frens. On the SCCS web page enumerable emails have used the word “upbeat” to describe Paul's perennial attitude. I can't remember a time when he didn't have a project in mind: a new comic strip, a class he'd be teaching (teaching, he loved), a book about some aspect of cartooning. Always optimist--always enthusiastic.

                  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

One event Paul enthused about was the Annual SCCS day at the SDBB (San Diego Blood Bank.) Blood donors were caricatured by a host of cartoonists, resulting in much fun, many laughs and nary a libel suit. Frequent rewards for their efforts involved food - - - yet another favorite of our pal Paul.

  Here, fellow artist John Wismont and he partake.

                                 &&&&&&&&&&&

A little background on our man:

A School of Visual Arts reunion 

  Jim,  Bernie Lansky, Harry Lampert, (Cartooning Instructor) Paul

!      !      !      ! 

Paul looks over another             classic comic.    

"To m'FREN, Jim, with Best Fishes." This fun-gem might have been doodled on a napkin by Paul.  

 

                                               Farewell, ole fren.

A LIFE LIVED

This blog hints at the story of one soldier, a pilot: Lt. Colonel Robert E. Barney. This edition salutes him; it also commemorates all people who have worn uniforms in our country's service.

When I was a kid, Memorial Day was called Decoration Day. It started as an event in the South to honor Union soldiers who had died in the Civil War. After World War II the name was changed; Memorial Day now pays tribute to all American men women who have died in any war or military action. It seems to me however that we should also recognize thousands . . . nay, millions of those who served and were fortunate enough to return from the scourge of wars. That would certainly include those currently being deployed.

That concept is what I had planned to feature in a May blog, closer to May 28—the date for this year's Memorial Day. But last week an unexpected email changed my mind: Patty gave me the sad news that her dad, my friend Bob Barney had died. He is one of the millions we will be thanking for their service.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bob and I met nearly six years ago at a book fair in Escondido, California. We each had a book to sell. His, titled Bulletproof--- I bought immediately--- and soon found myself engrossed in a saga which had all the makings of a cliff hanging motion picture.

In fewer than 240 pages--- almost read in one sitting--- we relive Bob's life from his teenage years in Parma, Missouri to his brief career as a semi-pro baseball player--- a shoulder injury cut that short-- to his 20 month stint in the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), time spent as a guide at the New York World's Fair in 1939, and eventually his enlistment in the army. As he tells it, “ . . . with nary a buck in my pocket, I passed the post office. A U. S. Armed Forces recruiting sign in the window caught my eye. . . . The first door read U. S. Army; if the Navy or Marine Corp. had occupied the first office, one of them would have been my selection.” The recruiter told him that signing up at that moment would assure an assignment in Hawaii. Bob asked as to the requirements necessary. The officer placed a paper before him and muttered, “Sign here.”

Bob Barney got the assignment to Hawaii. He was there December 7, 1941. His story from that date to his retirement from professional life in 1984 chronicles the military life—from basic training, flight school, combat missions as pilot of a B-17 Flying Fortress, being shot down over enemy territory; his time as a POW, escape, and being harbored by a compassionate German farm family until he was repatriated by making contact with the Third Army. (General Patton) 

 Following the tremendous highs and lows of his Army time, we further vicariously experience Bob's life post war. Much flying for many supervisors. Flights to, as they say “the four corners” transporting people and products, typhoon chasing, flying a B-29 through the fallout of an H-bomb dropped on Eniwetok. Civilian jobs included: Account Executive for a firm of the New York Stock Exchange and Marketing rep for Brunswick Corporation. Pocket billiards. He called it “A perfect fit.”

Bob loved magic . . . as I do. Unfortunately we had but few lunch sessions in noisy restaurants (hearing aids are something else we had in common) where we shared tricks and stories about people we knew in the pursuit. They were delicious times.

Finally, if you read Bulletproof--I hope you will-- something else will impress you. The book is dedicated to Donna, his wife of almost 65 years. Their love for each other shows, in Bob's writing and it was evident the only time Bernita and I got to meet her.

I so fortunate to have had Bob Barney for a friend.

Money Matters

Potpourri perhaps would be the more appropriate title for this blog post; but I'll save it for next time.

* * * * * * * * *

Let's first, tidy up the loose ends of Tiny Tim's visit. Some people may have doubted that I did indeed, hand over more than $16,000,000 to the unique entertainer. To back up my claim, here's one of the bills . . . 

 aa

 . . . and a sketch I made the night of the Fantasy Day Party and Show at Clute Community Center in Watkins Glen, NY 

         $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ $ 

Still on the money trail, we have a good statement for the year so far: We're talking about coins picked up while strolling around town, mostly in company of Bella, our canine buddy. $1.61 as of February 29. (four quarters, two dimes, some nickles and several pennies) Make that, $1.63; I found two pennies today! (March1)

SO, with cash, coin and currency at the core of this chapter, the following items should fall--loosely into that category. Even VINCENT is aware of how important the dollar is in our everyday life.

In 1988, for the Price Club (now CostCo) Journal I was commissioned to depict the scary financial situation of that time. The same drawing was subsequently used to hi-light a similar period in the nation's history; and I guess it would be just as appropriate were it to be published today. Just change the years.

Continuing to follow the money trail, here are some cartoons from different venues, different years, which seem to fit.

I shouldn't even mention Income Tax, 
should  I?

But this drawing, done about 20 years ago reminded me of how much more difficult filing would be if it had to be done "the old fashioned way."
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Time out. If you knew how difficult it is for me to do this, you'd appreciate it a lot more, for sure. But I like digging through the dusty files and finding things I'd forgotten I'd done.  It is fun.
Happy March 1!
Jim