EDITORIAL
CARTOONING WITH ROB ROGERS
An Antique
(Albeit Still Informative) Interview
Editoonist Rob
Rogers was fired on June 14 because he was drawing too many cartoons critical
of the Trumpet. The disgusting details of this ominous episode are recited in
Rants & Raves, Opus 381, which we posted hereabouts just a week ago.
Rogers
is still syndicated by Universal Press (which is paying him 100% of the sales
revenue instead of just his contracted 50%), and he has a local gig with a new
newspaper, Pittsburgh Current. But neither of these outlets pays all the
bills.
In
addition to doing editoons for both, he just finished doing a comic strip
version of the story of his firing, which we post herewith.
Why
would Rogers want to revisit this painful part of his past? Dunno. But my guess
is that he wanted to do villainous caricatures of the bad guys in the story—and
caricatures of himself being beat up and pitiful. Just for laughs.
I
interviewed Rogers on February 10, 1992. We sat in his cubicle at the offices
of the Pittsburgh Press, which, at the time, was one of two newspapers
in town; the other, the Post-Gazette, survived and hired Rogers when the Press collapsed after Rogers had been on staff for nine years. (And
then, 25 years later, the P-G fired him.)
In
the middle of Rogers’ drawingboard that day—surrounded by the debris of
previous days, a couple newspaper sections, some clippings—were caricatures of
all the Democrat presidential candidates for that year’s election. The campaign
was just beginning to heat up, and Rogers had worked late on a recent evening,
developing the caricatures. The incumbent President, George H.W. Bush, would
lose the contest to Bill Clinton, but Clinton had not yet emerged from the
Democrat pack.
What
follows is a verbatim transcript of our conversation (except for a couple of
lost bits which appear paraphrased between quotations in boldface italic).
Rogers was
born in Philadelphia, moved to Oklahoma in 1972 with his family; went to junior
high and college there. Started doing cartoons in junior high and high school
Rogers. I always drew cartoons. When I got
into college then at Oklahoma State, I started doing them for the school
paper. And that's the first point at which I thought about doing editorial
cartoons for a living. Up to then, I knew only that I wanted to do cartooning
of some kind in some form.
Harvey. Had you been doing editorial
cartooning up to then?
R. Actually,
not. In fact, I didn't even really have a good feel for it. I just knew of
them but I wasn't into them as much as I was Mad magazine and comic
strips and everything else. I started drawing about campus issues. And I got
infected; I couldn't stop.
After
Oklahoma State, he finished up at a smaller school--Central State University.
R. Mainly
because they had a better art department and they had an instructor there who I
knew--it was in Edmond where I went to high school. And the instructor that I
knew taught cartooning. So I transferred mainly because they had a better fine
art department and they also had this guy who was teaching cartooning, and most
of the other schools I'd checked out--nobody really has a cartooning program.
And he only did it on his own as part of his advertising art course.
Once
a year--ever other semester--he would offer this Editorial and Cartoon Art
course. He took it from this correspondence course that he'd taken when he was
in the Army. That was Hall Duncan. He still writes to me. We keep in touch.
He lives in Arkansas now and he travels around the country doing these humor
workshops--humor in the workplace and so forth. There are a number of
societies that do that, and he's got one of them.
H. How did he
teach cartooning?
R. It was an
old school kind of thing--the artists' correspondence course format. By the
time I got to him, basically I just wanted a place to do what I did. So the
way he would teach you would be to take you at wherever you were. I was more
advanced than some of the kids, so he would let me go off and do my own thing.
I took the course twice. The second time, I took it as a studio course, and I
used it as curriculum for advanced study. Part of my project was to do
cartoons for the school paper. So that's how I did it.
H. Was part of
his instruction in effect critiquing the work that you did?
R.
Absolutely. Every class period I would come in--that was the second time I
took the course. The first time around, we all did these basic projects. We
all had to clip out cartoons that showed different panel compositions, styles,
and so forth. We had to go through magazines and pick out different types of
cartoons and gags and uses of cartoons in advertising. Then we developed our
own comic strip character. And we'd have to draw the face with as many
different expressions as we could come up with. We had to do editorial
cartoons. It was a very broad-based kind of thing. And he pretty much let
everyone do whatever area they were interested in as it went along.
H. And at that
point, you had decided that you wanted to try for editorial cartooning?
R. Yes, I knew
at that point that I wanted to do editorial cartooning. But I also had a
little comic strip in the paper at school--about a college art student.
H.
Autobiographical stuff, eh?
R. Yes, I
think every college comic strip is autobiographical. And that really got me
interested in it. I went to the library there and checked out Jeff MacNelly's
first book--not the Shoe book but the first book of editorial cartoons. This
was 1979 or 1980. It had come out after his first Pulitzer Prize. And so I
carried it around like a Bible. I checked it out for ten or twenty weeks in a
row. Finally the library said, Don't you think you ought to let someone else
check this book out? And I said, Well, okay. So I put it back and waited a
couple of weeks and then went back and checked it out again. I was influenced
by him like everyone else--and Pat Oliphant and some of the others--but I think
it was neat to have it. I would refer to it. It was a great little
inspiration.
Graduated
in 1982. Took 5 years because he transferred and lost a couple credits. Then
came to Pittsburgh to go to the Graduate School of Fine Art at Carnegie Mellon
University. He had been in fine art courses--painting, drawing--at Central
State U. in Oklahoma at the same time as he was cartooning for the school
paper.
R. I knew that
it would probably be tough to just walk out and get a job as a cartoonist. So
I thought, Well, I'll finish, get a master's degree, then I can teach college
if I have to--or whatever. I had wanted to continue in fine arts as well as
cartooning. When I was in graduate school, I didn't do any cartooning for almost
two years; just concentrated on painting and drawing and got my master's.
Then
the last semester, I started doing cartoons for the Pitt News at the
University of Pittsburgh because the CMU paper had about 10 cartoonists
already--all these guys with little comic strips and editorial cartoons all
over the place. I had submitted one to the CMU paper but they cut it up and
squeezed it in between other stuff so I went to the Pitt News, and they
started printing my cartoons. [At the U. of Pittsburgh, where he wasn't even
enrolled.] It's funny: they consider me an alumni of the Pitt News even
thought I didn't go to Pitt!
Then
what happened was that one of the Pittsburgh Press editors, the photo
editor here--Bruce Baughman--saw my cartoons in the Pitt News and called
them to have me call him. So I called him and set up a time to come in for an
interview. I had been taking my Pitt News cartoons and assembling a
portfolio to send out to newspapers. I figured to try for that first--then
look for a teaching job. I didn't really have a focus yet.
So
in the meantime, one of these portfolios --I didn't send one here to the Pittsburgh
Press because I figured I'd come in in person for an interview-- one of
these portfolios went to Memphis where Angus McEacran, now one of my editors
here, is from.
He
had just come here from there, and a friend of his in Memphis got one of the
portfolios and sent it to him and said, I know you are looking to hire a
cartoonist, and here's one in your own backyard. So Angus sent me a letter
which I received the day before I was to come in for an interview with Bruce,
and I was very confused. So I got in here and interviewed with Bruce and
showed him the letter, and he didn't know what it was about, so we went in to
see Angus. And they hired me as an intern for the summer with the intention of
hiring me full-time eventually if I worked out.
H. But they
wanted you to try out first.
R. Right. And
they had not had a cartoonist for 25 years before I came. They had been using
syndicated stuff from MacNelly and others.
H. It's
surprising to me how many papers now have a staff editorial cartoonist. When I
was a kid, there didn't seem to be that many. And there was a period in the
1970s, I think, when it seemed to me that not many papers had their own
editorial cartoonist.
R. I think
that's one thing that MacNelly did: he was at a small paper, he won a Pulitzer
Prize--and he was young. Suddenly a lot of papers said, If the Richmond
News Leader can have its own cartoonist, why can't we? So that sort of
started the whole thing, I think.
Started
here in the summer of 1984, and they wanted me to do three cartoons a week. I
hadn't been doing daily cartoons, and they wanted to sort of break me in to
doing it. They figured anybody could put together a portfolio of ten-twelve
cartoons. So they started me out doing three cartoons a week. And they wanted
me to work in the art department the other two days. The first week--I
graduated on Monday, and they had me in here on Tuesday--no time off --so that
week, I did three cartoons, and it was Friday and it was time to do an
illustration for the paper.
And
it was one of those illustrations where you have to use a ruler and a
rapidograph pen--some kind of bar graph. And it took me so long to do it--I'm
used to just drawing. So the next week, I did five cartoons! I just kept
coming in with ideas, and I said, Do you mind if I just did five editorial
cartoons?
H. What they
didn't realize is that you were just trying to avoid the bar graph dungeon over
there.
R. Yeah--and
actually, it worked out better. By the end of that three-month internship
period, I'd done enough cartoons to find my stride, to find my style a little,
to be a little more consistent.
H. Did you
have a style at that point?
R. Yes, but it
was derivative. It wasn't truly my own. After the first year here, I latched
onto my own style. It was a little derivative of MacNelly but also Dick
Locher, too. So it was good to jump in and do five a week.
I
remember the first day I started, I went in and I showed him my sketch, and he
said, Okay, I have to leave here by five o'clock, so I want to see the finished
drawing before it goes into the paper. And I was used to spending as much time
as I needed on my drawings. I'd sit at home at my apartment or in my dorm
room, and I'd take as much time as I needed. Suddenly, I had to do the drawing
in four hours. To me, that seemed impossible.
So
I started drawing furiously. I finished by four and took it in to him. The
next day I was a little less nervous; next day, a little less. After the first
week, I didn't have to show him the finished drawing anymore: he got the idea
that the sketch was pretty close to what it was going to look like. So now, I
just show him the sketch and get it approved and then work at my leisure.
H. Do you
think of the role of the editorial cartoonist that of a crusader, or reporter,
or humorist --or what?
R. He has to
be a crusader. Hopefully, he speaks for a lot of minority voices out there
that don't have that little 2x4 space he has to work in. Not only must he be a
crusader for his own beliefs but he speaks for a lot of people out there who
feel the same way he does. My own personal view is that humor is one of the
best ways to get that point of view across. So I tend to do a lot of humorous
cartoons. It's my personality, but also once you've got someone laughing,
they've let their guard down and they're going to be open to what you're saying
in the cartoon. Whereas if you're hitting them over the head with an idea, all
they'll get is a sore head. They're not going to be receptive to your idea.
H. Have you
browsed around much in the cartoons of the forties? People like Daniel
Fitzpatrick. I cannot remember seeing a Fitzpatrick cartoon that was funny.
They were grim things.
R. They really
were. And I think that the face of editorial cartooning has changed over the
years. And I think Oliphant had a lot to do with that. Even the taste in
humor has changed in America--Mad magazine, “Saturday Night Live”--all
these things that have influenced us over the years have changed the kind of
humor we like. I can do cartoons now that I couldn't have gotten away with in
the forties. It wouldn't have been acceptable.
H. Of course,
Herblock's stuff was funny, too. But I think you're right, Oliphant really
bowled this country over when he came here. He drew his cartoons in a
different shape. His graphic style was different from everyone else's.
Everyone was imitating Shoemaker and Herblock. And Oliphant was
funny--viciously funny.
R. Oh,
hilarious. He introduced the gag cartoon into political cartooning. And
that's probably one reason I'm doing editorial cartoons right now because I
don't think I could draw cartoons the way they were drawn. Those were, to me,
political illustrations--with labels and so on, heavy messages.
H. Really
visual metaphors. There was a point of view there--you could see that--but
they had no dynamic. They were like billboards.
R. Like a logo
almost. You looked at it and said, There it is. You didn't laugh. Maybe it
moved you in some way. I think that humor is definitely the big difference in
cartooning today.
H. To what
extent are you a reporter?
R. Yes, a
reporter in the sense that you bring something to light, things that have
already been reported but you treat them in ways that may make them more
understandable to the average person. Not that the average person reads the
editorial page necessarily. But a lot of times issues can be so convoluted in
technicalities, but if you can boil it down in one cartoon, a lot of times, you
are reporting it. You don't break newsstories on the editorial page.
H. An
editorial cartoon is not a complex analysis of a circumstance. It's a single
point of view, and most issues don't reduce to single points of view. With
almost every issue, there are legitimate alternative points of view. How do
you deal with that?
R. You try to
figure out how you feel about the subject, first of all. And I don't think the
editorial cartoon is supposed to be an objective endeavor. I think we're among
the few at a newspaper who get paid to be subjective. And I think it's
important to have a clear view of what it is you're reporting or crusading
about. There are issues that I don't have a strong view on. I can almost
always tell you what Herblock will say about a subject. But I'm not as
clear-cut as that. I don't like to be pigeon-holed, for one thing. But there
are those issues where you can bring to light some areas that people might not
have thought about. You don't have to take the obvious point of view.
H. Here's this
education cartoon. On the face of it, this cartoon proclaims that American
education is not doing well here. So who is the villain in this situation? There could be
a whole list of villains because it is a very complex issue. So when you did
this cartoon, in your mind, who was the villain? Who was going to get jabbed?
R. The other
thing about that cartoon is how many-- I've done a zillion cartoons on
American education. Every year--twice a year--there's a story about how badly
we're doing. So one consideration here for this particular cartoon is, How do
I make it different from the ones I've done before? A lot of times, the ones
I've done before have made the Administration out to be the villain--Bush the
education president and not doing a good job of that. I've had plenty of
cartoons on that, and I didn't want to take the same angle on that this time.
So I tied it in to the Winter Olympics, which are going on right now--holding
up score cards. And we're obviously not doing too well. But what I'm trying
to show with this cartoon is not so much who the villain is but who the victim
is. And the child there is obviously the victim of a bad education.
H. The next
step is, What do we do about this. And there are a host of answers to that
question too, but you want to make people aware that there is a problem. We're
not in good shape.
R. Right, I
have only so much space. And I can't really list all the solutions. A lot of
times, I have the power to make people think about what the solutions could be,
and maybe even hint at what a solution could be--like voting for someone other
than Bush, for instance.
H. Do you see
yourself as someone who comes along and pokes the sleeping dog a little, trying
to stir things up.
R. Right. I
think that's exactly right. I don't feel that any cartoon I'm going to do is
going to change the world. It won't make or break anybody's presidential
campaign. But I think if I can get Ma and Pa Smith to think about an issue--to
talk about it with their family, to put the cartoon on their refrigerator--that
is what I'm trying to do. That's the best I can hope for.
H. So you're
rousing the rabble, so to speak. A perfectly noble enterprise. I do some
editorial cartooning myself for an education association newspaper. The issues
are always complex, and I’d show it to the Executive Director, and he says,
Well, what about this, and this and this? And I say, Listen--this is a
cartoon. It can't be multidimensional. You're got one chance to hit people in
the eyes with something, and then next month, you've got something else--or
another aspect of the same thing. Like political correctness. I did one about
political correctness once. And he was so worried about that: all his friends
were the politically correct of the world. And he didn't want to offend them.
And I said, The point is to offend them--that's the whole message. Offend
these people. Make them mad. He didn't want to make them mad. Well, then you
don't want a political cartoonist working for you.
R. I think
you're right: the point is to offend them, to make them angry, to make them
think. But not just for the sake of offending someone. You can't come into
the office and say, There's nothing to draw about today, so I'll just make
someone angry. I don't think that's a good enough excuse. And I know there
are some cartoonists who wake up and say, I'm gonna make someone angry. What
good does that do?
But
if someone gets angry--I get angry letters from readers, and I think they're a
better barometer of where I'm going than someone who calls in and says, Oh, I
just loved that cartoon. Then you think--Wait a minute: I'm doing something
wrong here. They're calling to say how much they like my cartoon! Especially
when the politicians call! ... They just call in and say how much they like
the cartoon, and that takes away the sting a little bit. Sort of taking away
your ammunition. You can't afford to become friends with the local politicians.
H. I suppose
any editorial cartoonist has to run into that occasionally. To what extent can
you fraternize with officials who may at one time or another become targets of
your cartoons.
R. And that
happens. Because you're at the same political events--fund raisers or
whatever--because in some sense, a political cartoonist can become a public
figure. And I've found myself at a lot of these functions avoiding
politicians: I can't afford to like them. It would japarodize my job.
H. One of the
great truths about human relations: if you have any feeling for people at all,
if you know individuals, you tend to like them. It's hard to make them
villains then.
R. Right,
right. And at this point, one of our local politicians is such great fodder
for me I don't want to jeopardize my material in any way by talking to him. I
hope he just stays on his side of the lockers. I'll stay on mine. [They both
work out at the same Y.]
Typical
Workday
R. I wrote a
review of Doug Marlette's book in which he talks about one of his typical
days. He talks about his alarm going off at five a.m. and it's still dark
outside, and he makes his way to the bathroom. Well, if I was writing my own
book--the alarm goes off at 11 a.m. sharp. The sun is streaming in the
window. I hit the snooze button and go back to sleep.
I
normally get in between 9 and noon. Depending upon what I have to do that
day. We have a 10 o'clock editorial board meeting, and I try to make that
whenever I can. And if it's an important meeting--somebody like the mayor
coming in--I try to get to that.
Then
I come in and read through the newspapers, drink coffee, and try to come up
with something. A friend of mine, Walt Handlesman, said that, You know it's
great: as a cartoonist I get to sit here and drink coffee and go through the
newspaper, and most people would get fired for doing that on the job. But we
get to do it as part of our job.
Then
I come up with a sketch. If it's a good day, it'll be before noon. If it's a
slow day, it'll be after noon. I show that to the editor. If he's not off at
a meeting somewhere, I can get it approved and start drawing. If he's away, I
have to do other things until I get it approved. Or--if I'm pretty sure he'll
approve it, I might go ahead and take a chance and start doing the finished
drawing. Usually takes anywhere from two to four hours, depending upon how
much detail I have to put in--and how many caricatures I have to draw. I was
here until ten o'clock at night doing all the Democratic candidates the other
night. It's kind of tough because no one knows what they look like yet.
H. That's
right.
R. If the
cartoon is just a couple of talking heads, as they say, it's an easy day. Some
days, it can be nine to five; somedays, noon to seven; some days nine to two
a.m. It varies from day to day.
H. You said
your real deadline is 7 a.m., but you try to finish in the early evening the
day before.
R. Right. I
don't like to come back if I can help it. There have been days when I've had
tickets to the symphony or something and I'll leave and then come back later in
the evening and finish the cartoon, but normally, I'm done around the same time
as everyone else finishes--five or six o'clock. And so it gives me the
semblance of a normal life.
H. Are you
required to attend the editorial board meeting?
R. I was when
I first started, and now, it's become more-or-less a encouraged option.
H. You feel
you have to go often enough to --
R. --to keep a
sense of what the general tenor of things is. And if my editor wants me to be
in on a certain meeting, he'll tell me to be sure to make it. But it's nice
having a little freedom to come and go as I please. It helps with the whole
idea of being creative on demand--on daily basis. When I was in graduate
school, I had a studio, and I worked whenever it was convenient for me. I
would sometimes work late at night. And if I wasn't feeling creative that day,
I wouldn't go in to my studio. I'd just do other school work. But I can't do
that here. I have to have something every day. A product--in the paper.
H. Do you have
to get your editor's approval for a cartoon? Must it share the point of view
of the editor.
R. No.
H. In effect,
then, he looks at it and he says--
R. He says
that this isn't libelous or it isn't going to get us into any trouble legally
or it isn't in such horrible bad taste that we wouldn't print it.
Occasionally--we have a very good working relationship--and he'll tell me if he
thinks a cartoon is just "okay" and not up to par. And a lot of
times--I get too close to my work and sometimes I lose perspective, so it's
nice to have somebody say, Well--you can do better than that. And I usually
can come back and think of something better.
H. So it's
really not approval in the sense of yea or nay. In effect, he's your first
reader. If you had a point of view that he disagreed with, would he still let
you print the cartoon?
R. As long as
it didn't happen on the same day as they were publishing an editorial that
countered the message of the cartoon. Because it would be a little confusing
for the reader. Since my name is signed to the cartoon and it appears on the
opinion page, he lets me pretty much draw what I feel.
H. In your
contact with other editorial cartoonists, do you feel that everyone is kind of
in that boat now--or are there still guys who must hold to the company line?
R. I think
pretty much everybody's in that boat: to one degree or another, they have that
freedom. I think that one thing is that when a newspaper has a very hard line
viewpoint, when they hire a cartoonist, they're going to hire somebody who has
that same viewpoint. So a lot of times, if it's not a good working
relationship that way, somebody's going to move on. Normally cartoonists are
pretty obstinate and self-righteous. They believe that what they're doing is
their own creation and they don't want to be anybody's puppet. Even though if
it ever went to court, the newspaper would take the cake, I believe that the
cartoonist needs autonomy.
H. But at the
same time, you have some responsibility as a member of the working press to the
publication you're working for.
R. Exactly.
If the editor feels--and he's paying me to do the work--and so there is a
certain obligation....
H. Does your
editor ever come to you and say, How about doing a cartoon on X? Giving you a
subject--not telling you what point of view to adopt but giving you a subject.
R. Sure,
sure. And it's always understood that he's just suggesting that as a topic,
and if I do not feel that that's the subject I want to address that
day--normally, it's a subject that is in the news that I was probably going to
do anyway sooner or later. So it normally doesn't involve any kind of
conflict. And that's as far as it goes: he never suggests ideas. He just
might suggest a topic. And a lot of times, it's something that I would have
done anyway.
H. To ask the
question on everyone's mind--where do you get your ideas?
R. Right:
everyone always wants to know. [Laughs.] I just tell them, I copy Tim
Menees's ideas. [Tim Menees was, at that time, editorial cartoonist for the Post-Gazette; both papers were in the same building.]
H. And he
copies yours--
R. And we just
keep going around and around.
H. Let’s look
at a specific idea, its history.
R. Okay--I
have one that I use with a slide show. This is back when the Soviet Union started going
into a spin, and they were talking about taking down all the Lenin statues. So
I started out with this cartoon--a factory making Lenin icons. And actually,
that was the first cartoon I had--no speech bubble or anything. And I thought,
Well, this could be funny. Now all I have to do is think of a caption. I had
this much.
At
first, I thought maybe I could just have a Closed sign on the door. But that
didn't seem good enough. So with the speech balloon that appears in the rough
here: normally, they’d be in favor of switching, but in this case, if they do,
they would be out of business. But that wasn't funny.
So
I tried another speech: “Okay, any more bright ideas?" And that was funnier
but still not funny enough. Then I tried: "We could paint Bart Simpson's
face on ..." That was funny but it sort of missed the point I thought.
My
favorite was: "We would have been better off making Peewee Herman
dolls." But then I thought of the one I ended up with--"I told you
we should have diversified."
So
that's what I do. I come up with a concept, and then I try to improve it.
Other times, when I'm coming up with an idea--
H. What about
this one? [Pointing to rough on drawing table.]
R. This is
today's. Over the weekend, there was a story about Bush, telling people that
the answer to health care problems is that we should all take better care of
ourselves. That would solve everything.
H. Medical
insurance companies believe that, too. When I get sick, they don't help me at
all.
R. Right. So
I thought, Is that what Bush is going to tell these sick people? Hey, just
take better care of yourself. And I had this picture in my mind of your mother
or father shaking a finger at you saying, You better take better care of
yourself. And I thought, How's that going to help the cancer patient or the
person with AIDS. What is that saying to them? I had to narrow it down, so I
picked a homeless family and had them sitting there with a sign, No job, no
home, no health care. And they're holding out a cup, and Bush is saying, You
know, you should really take better care of yourself. But my first idea was to
have Bush there, and then I had to decide what I wanted to represent --
H. And that's
in a way a classic instance of what a cartoon is. Without that picture of
those impoverished, homeless people there, there really is no point to that
cartoon. Who you picture there is what gives the cartoon its point. This
makes the words and the pictures interdependent.
R. In a
way--the funny thing about political cartooning is that you don't really have
to exaggerate that much. When you do other types of cartoons, you have to
exaggerate. But with political cartooning, the politicians are so funny in and
of themselves--or so ironic. Bush saying this was just so ironic--for him to
say that in the face of all the problems we're having, I just think is pretty
much saying it all. It's just a matter of taking those two images and putting
them together, and that says, Hey--look at this: isn't this ironic?
H. Do you
begin with a current event or topic?
R. Right.
Here's one about the Japanese. The Japanese are
starting to horn in on one of the only things we do well--bashing them.
They're starting to bash us now. So they've gotten on that boat. And I did a
couple cartoons on that issue. And here's a bait-and-switch. You've got Bush
saying, Well we've begun serious trading with Japan. And one of his aides is
saying, Autos? No, insults. Set it up to look like it's going to be one
thing, and it's another thing. I do a lot of this type.
Here's
the old Statue of Liberty idea--give me your tired, your hungry, your poor.
And I was just thinking about the Haitians coming over and being turned back,
and I was thinking with the recession and all the other problems we're having,
the U.S. is not such an attractive place to live any more. So I did a little
bit of a switch. And the sign saying, We're sorry: at present we have more
tired, poor, and helpless than we know what to do with.
H. Wicked.
True. But wicked.
Harvey
looks at several cartoons. Laughs.
H. This really
is a language of symbols. To what extent do you feel that there are symbols
now that you can't use? Say, Biblical allusions. Can you use them? Do people
recognize them? Do they know what they mean? My favorite, for example, is
--Do you know what the most powerful weapon in the world is? The jawbone of an
ass. How many people would get that, I wonder?
Rogers
remembers seeing quite recently a Gary Larson cartoon using the jawbone of an
ass allusion.
H. But are
there literary and historical allusions that you feel the average reader isn't
going to grasp?
R. Yes, that
is true. I've used some in sketches I've shown to people around here, and it's
not just historical. You've also got on the other end--you've got to worry
about younger readers not understanding historical references--but you have to
worry about older readers not understanding some of the hipper stuff you might
use. I've used a couple things from “Saturday Night Live” or popular lingo in
the schools these days. And some of this has not reached the general reader
yet. And you have to be careful. I think the expression– Not. I don't know if
you've heard that expression. Somebody will say, Sure I'll give you five
dollars--Not!
H. I just ran
across that in something I was reading, and I didn't get it.
R. See?
H. Does that
come from “Saturday Night Live?”
R. I think it
started there--or in schools. But these two guys on Wayne's World--a skit they
do with two high school kids and their cable rock show--and they say that all
the time. So there's a lot of this lingo you have to be careful using.
H. Are popular
culture images more communicative than historical or literary allusions?
R. No, because
the pop culture images are only good for the day. But then they're gone. I've
fallen and I can't get up. Twenty years from now, no one will understand that cartoon.
But I've also done some where I've used --I did one of Bush holding up a
newspaper that looks like Truman holding up the newspaper announcing the Dewey
won the election. But I had the newspaper say, Saddam Wins the War. And I
think that cartoon twenty years from now, people will look at and say, That's a
good image.
Or
the image of the flag at Iwo Jima. Those images will always with us. And I
think there are certain images being created today that will eventually be as
[potent] as those. And I think certain of the popular culture images won't be.
They're a lot of fun to see in the cartoon because you recognize them as being
really current stuff.
H. Let's talk
about caricature for a minute. Any favorites you like to do?
R. Sure. I
led the campaign of cartoonists for the election of Paul Simon back in '88
because he was such a great face--the bow tie, the ears, the hair, nose,
glasses. He was a cartoonist's dream. And I did a self-indulgent cartoon when
he dropped out of the race--it had somebody watching him leave, saying, There
goes the cartoonists' vote. I like drawing Bush, but I think what happens is
that they become caricatures in and of themselves because they've been around
so long. Now my caricature is not about George Bush's facial features so much
as it is about his whole temperament. His whole air. The whole facade.
H. Odor
instead air, maybe.
R.
Yeah--odor. But I think at first when you don't know a politician, you have to
try to draw their features as best you can. Dukakis was wonderful. I loved
him. Some of the Democrats that we have this time are a lot tougher.
H. Clinton is
tough.
R. Yes,
Clinton is tough. They're all tough actually. I think Tsongas is good. Guys
like Sununu were great. Quayle is another one that's sort of become a
caricature in and of himself. You can just write his name, and you can use it
as a punchline of a joke.
H. Somebody
called him a wind-up politician, and that's perfect.
R. Yeah, a
little wind-up toy. But he's not as easy to draw physically because he's sort
of plain-looking. Gorbachev was great.
H. I thought
he was tough. Round face. Non-descript even.
R. I think he
was great because he was so recognizable because of the birthmark and the
roundness. He
was just a symbol. You didn't have to label him. I did a number of cartoons
using his birthmark.
H. Oh, that's
a good caricature of him, too. Eyes are good; you've got him.
R. Well, it's
fairly simplistic. Drawing that large.
H. Do you use a
brush?
R. Yes. For
final drawings, I use a brush on the outlines here. A cheap-o Grumbacher.
Nothing fancy. Then I go in after that with the duo-shade, using a large
water-color brush to do it. And then I go in with cross-hatching with a
crowquil. Mostly I use just the brush and the crowquil. And I think the
duo-shade adds a nice gray tone.
H. If you were
to advise a young cartoonist just starting out who had not done much with
caricature, what would you tell him?
R. If he
wanted to be a political cartoonist, I'd tell him first of all to look in
another city. [Laughs] That would be my first advice. And then I would tell
him, I think exaggeration is the key to good caricature. And the more
exaggeration you can get in there, the better. But on the other hand, you must
consider your own style as you're developing a caricature. I sometimes have to
draw someone three or four times before I get them right. Even with Gorbachev,
I sometimes have to draw him three or four times to get him right, to get the
pose right. Some people are easier to draw from the side, for instance.
Mondale was great to draw from the side because of the nose and the deep-set
eyes.
H. Years ago, I
was struggling with a caricature for President Eisenhower. It finally worked
when I determined that every facial expression required a different
caricature. He had such a bland face, so flexible--yet distinctive. You could
never look at a picture of him and not know it was Eisenhower.
R. Right.
What's interesting --for me, my caricature of Bush has become a symbol in
itself. It doesn't really look like Bush anymore. You look at Bush on
television, and the Bush that I draw and yet people--readers of the Press--have
come to accept my drawing of him as Bush. And they like that. And so when I
make him smiling or doing something else, I don't necessarily refer back to
photographs [to catch changes in his appearance from expressioin to expression]
because I know that [my caricature] has changed. It's evolved from the original
drawings that I did of Bush [that looked more like him]. A lot of it has to do
with what he's done in office since he started.
H. Your
picture of Bush is now a symbol of a picture of Bush.
R. Right,
exactly.
H. Everyone
knows, this is the symbol for Bush.
R. When a new
politician comes on the scene, everyone flounders for awhile until that symbol
has been created. A lot of times, certain people develop certain symbols, but
a lot of times, they all sort of homogenize. When you see editorial cartoons,
you can tell, we're all sort of thinking the same way. Even with ideas--you'll
see two editorial cartoonists doing the same idea. But the caricatures will
begin to look the same, too. Which isn't necessarily good, but I think that
different cartoonists have a knack for caricaturing the same thing about a
face.
H. And that
can't help but produce similar caricatures. If you begin with the notion that
you have to exaggerate certain features, which is the essence of caricature,
it's possible to exaggerate the features to the extent that it doesn't actually
look like the person. Do you think that a caricature should look like the
person being caricatured--at the beginning anyway?
R. I do think
that when people who have never seen my cartoon of George H.W. Bush look at it,
they know it's George H.W. Bush. There's enough there, enough information,
that they know it's Bush. So I think it must resemble the person. But if you
have come up with your own -- For instance, our local mayor. You don't know
what she looks like, so if you saw one of my cartoons of her and then saw her,
you might not put the two together. You might not say, Oh--that is a cartoon
of this woman here. If you had lived in the city for any time, you would
probably accept my symbol for the mayor as appropriate. And I think it does
look like her, but only if you'd seen the mayor enough to get a feel for her.
Drawing
all these Democratic candidates now is hard because no one has a feel for what
they look like. No one has a feel for what they're about. And so it's hard
for a cartoonist to grasp onto that, too. The easiest thing to do is to draw
someone that you know. It's tough to draw people you don't know. So it may
look exactly like them, but unless people know what they look like, it doesn't
work.
H. They've got
to be visible enough. For example, I'm not sure that I would recognize Tsongas
if I saw him in the flesh. I have't seen enough pictures of him yet. What
other advice would you give to a beginning cartoonist?
R. My advice,
first, when they're drawing a caricature, don't look at a photograph. Envision
the face in your head. And whatever it is they remember about that person,
start with that. That's what I do when I start out. I'll try to remember what
they look like, and I'll draw what I remember about them. And then I'll go
back and look at a photograph and adjust my drawing accordingly, however I
think I need to exaggerate. But I think it's very important that what you
remember visually is what you need to exaggerate. If you remember their
glasses or their nose or their ears, those are the things you need to jump
right on. From there on, it's just a matter of refining it.
H. That
reminds me of what I've read about what Walt Disney did back in the thirties
when he was setting up his studio. He wanted his animators to learn how to
animate in the way he thought was best, and they set up animation exercises in
which the artists would, say, watch a movie of an animal in action, and then
they would shut the movie off, and everyone would go away and try to draw the
same action. It was their memory of the action that they were after. If they
tried to duplicate the action with photographical realism, the action would
seem too stiff.
R. Exactly.
That's why I think some caricature artists look too much at a photograph. And
then they loose a little of the essence of that person. They loose a little of
the exaggeration that needs to be there to make it a caricature.
H. What about
just getting into the field of political cartooning. Is there a way someone
can do that?
R. Oh,
absolutely. I think that it wouldn't be fair not to say that it's a very tough
field to get into. A lot of newspapers are folding or merging. There are a
lot of good cartoonists out there who are not working for major newspapers.
But I don't think that's the only way to do cartoons. You can work for small,
daily or weekly publications in your home town. You can do it parttime. You
can create your own market by finding a magazine out there that deals with a
particular subject or topic or trade. Offer them cartoons on those topics.
There are so many avenues for cartoonists. It's really up to the individual on
how much motivation they have. On the other hand, it's not encouraging to say
there are plenty of jobs out there for editorial cartoonists at major
newspapers--because there aren't.
I
think that anyone with enough motivation and promise will eventually find a job
in the field. But there a lot of talented people out there looking for work.
You
have to draw cartoons for your own enjoyment first. You have to really love to
do it. Otherwise, you'll never stick with it long enough to make it. Don't
base it on having a job as a cartoonist. I have seen a number of venues for
cartoons out there. You can still do it [even if you're not a full-time
newspaper staff member].
We
have an entertainment weekly here in Pittsburgh, and there are three or four
cartoonists who submit work to that every week. They're not full-time working
cartoonists, but they love what they do and they get it out there, and a lot of
people see that magazine. I would say that there is enough out there for
everybody.
H. You're
right. You have to really love to draw to do anything like this. I myself
don't love to draw enough to be a cartoonist. I like to write rather than to
draw. To say that you must love to draw is so easy to say, but there's a
weight of meaning in that casual expression. If you come up with an idea that
involves a complicated drawing, unless you like to draw, you won't put that
idea forward.
R. Yeah,
you're not going to want to spend the time.
H. You're
going to pick an easier drawing. That's what I'd do. I'd lose a lot of good
ideas because I'd do that.
R. I think it's
a love of doing it--a love of creating those images. Cartooning--I used to
just sit in class when I was in school, and just draw. A lot of times, if you
look through my notes, there are a lot more sketches than there are notes.
Somehow I made it through school. But if you looked at it back the, you'd
think this is a person who's not paying attention to what he should be doing.
But on the other hand, I knew at an early age that I loved to do it and wanted
to do it in some form or another for a living. And that's nice. Because a lot
of people don't know that early what they want to do with their lives.
A
selection of the “best cartoons” from a quarter of a century of Rob Rogers has
been collected in a massive tome, No Cartoon Left Behind (2009, 390 10x12-inch pages,
Carnegie Mellon University Press, as low as $27 at Amazon). Rogers annotates
the cartoons, making this one of the very best anthologies of its kind. This is
the good stuff—the very best. If you don’t own this book, buy it now: it’ll soon
be a collector’s item and will be priced out of site.
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