Etta Hulme, cartoonist for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, died June 25th at the age of 90. A longtime member and former president, Etta was a widely respected and beloved member of the AAEC. Although her drawing style has been described as soft, the messages behind the images were powerful and clear. Etta was exactly what an editorial cartoonist should be, fearless and determined- plus she did it with a wonderful smile.
The AAEC sends their deepest sympathy to her family and friends. We'll miss Etta very much.
Vancouver Sun sketcher, and my mentor, was almost as great a journalist as he was a human being.
By Bob Krieger, 2 Oct 2013, TheTyee.ca
Aside from being an incredibly kind, humble, hilarious, brilliant and elegant gentleman, Roy Peterson happened to be a world class editorial cartoonist. He won more National Newspaper Awards than any other journalist, the Order of Canada, and more awards and honours than he or a mathematician could count.
Roy Peterson was born in Winnipeg in 1936. He died Monday, Sept. 30, joining the love of his life, Margaret, and leaving two sons, three daughters, nine grandchildren and a massive hole in journalism business.
I, like dozens of the next generation of cartoonists throughout North America, was awed by Roy's singular talent, but more amazed by his grace and generosity. He was an icon and a hero to all of us, but he always went out of his way to make us feel like equals.
Roy's career at the Vancouver Sun came to an abrupt and shocking end after 47 years. He remained the epitome of dignity and decency until the day he left us.
The Tyee asked me to put together some of my favourite Peterson cartoons, which you can see in the gallery above. Younger readers may not understand all of these 'toons, so I encourage them to get on the interwebs and Google them. But for geezers like me who remember the '60s, '70s and '80s, they should bring back some fond memories.
It was no easy task to narrow it down. Roy was almost as great a cartoonist as he was a human being.
The celebration of the life of Roy Peterson will be held Friday Oct 11th from 2-4 at Hollyburn Country Club in West Vancouver.
Remembrances from Colleagues
From Dwane Powell, Creators Syndicate
Retired from the News and Observer, Raleigh, NC
My first American Association of Editorial Cartoonists meeting was in Washington DC in 1972. I was drawing for a small newspaper in Arkansas, my first newspaper job, and had never met another cartoonist outside Arkansas. We were asked to send a cartoon for exhibition at the meeting so I rounded one up and sent it in.
Being self taught and having never seen the original drawings of more established cartoonists I was humbled to see these works up close at the DC exhibit. One drawing in particular caught my eye, a large, beautifully rendered cross hatch drawing that hung dead center in the room. It was the ass end of an Elephant with a tiny Pierre Trudeau hanging from the tail. Then I noticed that my cartoon was hung right next to it.
Just as I was about to slink out of the room a dapper fellow came up beside me, pointed at my cartoon, and in a deep, mellifluous voice, said, "That's a very nice cartoon." I said "Thanks" and asked which one was his, and he pointed at the cross hatched elephant ass.
Soon afterward, a rube from Arkansas was having a gin and tonic with Canada's greatest cartoonist. That was Roy Peterson.
From Bruce MacKinnon:·What should Canadians know about Roy Peterson?
He was the editorial cartoonist for the Vancouver Sun for nearly half a century, but may have been best known across the country for illustrating Allan Fotheringham's column on the last page of Maclean's Magazine for decades. He's won more National Newspaper Awards and other accolades than any other cartoonist in history, and was one of only two cartoonists to be president of both the Canadian (ACEC) and the American Editorial Cartooning Associations (AAEC). He was member of the order of Canada and a giant in the field of editorial cartooning.
·What did Roy Peterson mean to you?
Roy was a hero and mentor to me. He was not just a role mode and inspiration as a brilliant cartoonist, but he was a role model as a human being. He was always warm and approachable, always encouraging friendly and kind to any young cartoonist who came to him for advice, and was universally loved and respected by his peers. He was always want I wanted to be when I grow up. I'm still waiting.
Was he an influence on your work?
Huge. I had all his books and learned so much from the masterpieces he drew, but his work was at such an incredibly high level he couldn't really be imitated. In terms of illustration and design, what he did within the space he was given to draw was simply unequalled anywhere in the world.
·What did Roy Peterson contribute to Canadian culture and cartooning?
He drew political cartoons that had such impact, at such a high skill level, that they will be forever remembered both nationally and internationally. He set the high water mark for illustration, design, caricature, kindness, class, and humility.
·Do you have a Roy Peterson anecdote you’d like to share?
After his beloved wife Margaret died, whenever we could convince him to come to a convention, he would spend any unscheduled time holing up with us in the hotel room. By 'us' I mean Bob Krieger (a close friend and a fellow Vancouver cartoonist whom he mentored from the start), Dwane Powell, Mike Keefe and Tim Menees, American cartoonists who had become longtime friends, and myself. We were all musicians/guitarists so we'd sit around playing tunes for Roy, absolutely thrilled and honoured to be the apparent muses and court jesters for this living legend.
One particular night, Roy had a request. He said can you something by that guy from Texas? You know... that guy with the high hair? He kept trying to explain but we couldn't figure it out. Finally, he grabbed the little notepad of hotel paper and a ball point and scribbled something in about 25 seconds. He held it up to us and in unison we all hollered "Lyle Lovett!!" It was brilliant. It was a quick sketch but at the same time the most accurate of caricatures in the slickest style. Not just any cartoonist can do that. Krieger immediately pounced on it and made him sign it. The tiny 3"x4" sketch now hangs matted in a HUGE frame on the living room wall in Bob's Vancouver home.
·Anything else you’d like to say about Roy?
Many of us feel like we've lost a father figure. I'm just so proud to have called him my friend.
Longtime Sun artist picked up seven National Newspaper Awards in a career that established him among the greats of Canadian journalism
By Pete McMartin and John Mackie, Vancouver Sun October 2, 2013
There was that about him that, physically, was pen-like — the sharp line of his nose and profile, the quiet manner hiding a pointed intelligence, a humour that could be as black as ink. Roy Peterson drew more than editorial cartoons with his pen. He took aim.
He died Sunday. He was 77. He was on his living-room couch in his West Vancouver home.
“I went into the kitchen to fill up a glass of water he needed for his medications,” son Laurie said, “and when I came back a few seconds later he was gone.”
He leaves behind five children, nine grandchildren and a body of work that for the honours it received was unmatched in the history of Canadian journalism.
Read more: http://www.vancouversun.com/news/Cartoonist+Peterson+precise+piercing/8979624/story.html#ixzz2h07cuWPF
The AAEC is profoundly saddened to hear of the death of Roy Peterson, an extraordinary editorial cartoonist and longtime friend to many in our organization. We extend our condolences to Roy's family and friends and will be posting a memorial remembrance shortly.
Rex Babin, staff cartoonist for the Sacramento (CA) Bee and recent past-president of the Association of American Editorial Cartoonists, passed away early on the morning of Friday, March 30, following a long battle with cancer. He leaves behind his wife Kathleen and his 10-year-old son Sebastian. During his quarter-century of involvement with the association, Rex was one of its most devoted and hard-working members. His humor and restless pursuit of stylistic development made him a pleasure to be around and an inspiration to his colleagues.
Jack Ohman, staff cartoonist for The Portland Oregonian, was a close friend of Rex's and wrote the following tribute.
Tribute to Rex Babin
by Jack Ohman
The death of Rex Babin has hit our now-miniscule cartooning family very hard, harder than anything we thought we might be prepared for. This magnificent man, this vital athlete, this superb artist and thinker, has left an intellectual and emotional void in the community we love.
I first met Rex at the AAEC Washington convention in 1987; he was 24, and me, at 26,utterly detested for having the MacNelly client list handed to me in a silver chalice in 1981. It was my first, nervous convention, and his. Rex came to greet me, along with many others who weren’t, you know, bastards.
Rex had the soul of a polymath. Everything fascinated him. Further, no one thought himself more integral to the success of his newspaper—not his career—than Rex. Rex preached local cartoons, and I doubt he could have had any more influence in California politics than he had. While privately delighted at the attention, he would have snorted at the tributes, which were along the lines of “them damned pitchers.”
Sometimes, Rex fussed over the things we all from time to time have fussed about. Ultimately, the gifts we sought in our careers either seemed hollow or a fluke. The gift Rex took was the gift we should all share: the love of craft, and the perpetual desire to improve. He would also say the love of his peers, which is like being in the coolest club in the United States. Cartoonists know they have instant B&Bs from coast-to-coast. No reservations.
Rex was always trying new pens, new paper, new computer programs, new gadgets, and seeking new influences—writers, painters, architects, sculptors, instead of bogging down in the usual mire of our trade. If you knew Rex, you also knew that he loved nothing better to have a microscopic conversation about line quality or lettering. One day, in the hundreds of days we spoke on the phone—blunt, profane, whiny, raucous conversations—he asked how I was. I replied, “Ink drag.” Then he was off on a soliloquy about how letting the top off on ink bottle for a few days was a science: new ink, too light, man…but slightly aged, goopy ink could create a line to die for.
But if it was too exposed to the air: Ink drag. Bad.
Other days, we may have greeted each other with an impression of an air traffic controller conversation: “United 228 Heavy hold at six thousand, clear runway 6-L, uh, thank you sir.” Other times, he may have just said, “Hey F***er.” And I knew he was referring to me.
To us it was a warm up to a chat about…anything. Which lasted for hours. Sometimes he would call, usually on Friday afternoon as I was about to pass a watermelon covered in broken beer bottles on deadline, and simply say, “Scratchin’?”
Yep. You? Yep. We would describe our respective ideas, which I hated, because mine sometimes were not reduceable to a set-up/punchline. But, neither were his. Except one time, late in the 2010 California governor’s race, I called him after Meg Whitman was described as a “whore” by a Brown adviser. I said, here’s your idea: two guys in front of the statehouse, and the one guy says, “Who’re you voting for?” He drew it. It ran.My finest moment. He was lionized for his “Hands of God” cartoon about the Sullenberger Hudson River miracle. He was prouder of how well he drew the hands and the plane. Later, I would say, oh, just draw the Hands of God holding Gingrich or whatever. He had a crooked smile that migrated up the left side of face, and he would say, screw you. He knew his cartoon was amazing.
Rex’s cartoons sometimes were so different that I would wonder how the hell he got there. While I was dutifully executing a candidate standing at a lectern (boring, tedious), he might be meticulously rendering a 1700s Parisian street scene as a metaphor for the California budget. Oh, and there was a perfect Gov. Ahnolt in the frame. Sometimes I would just want to quit after seeing one. If Rex drew a cabinet, he would go into a furniture design book and faithfully draw a Stickley cabinet. Or an 18th Century French cabinet. Whatever he wanted.
He made me work harder because I knew he was working harder. He would casually (uh huh) mention he was drawing the South Front of the U.S. Capitol Building. That was my cue to try to draw the South Front of the U.S. Capitol Building. And so on.
He called me around Christmas 2010 and told me that he had cancer. Stage IV. Inoperable. He wasn’t falsely optimistic. I burst into tears on the phone. He said, “Stop it, goddamn it. I’m up for a fight.”
I called him about 2-4 times a week, usually at 9:15 pm. His treatment was discussed. Cartoon gossip was exchanged. Finally, he tired of discussing the various shortcomings of selected peers (discussed clinically), and so did I. What’s the point?
As we parted on the phone, he would say, “Well, I love you.” I would say it, too, even as my Minnesota frozen wingnut seemed static, frosty, immobile.
Toward the end, a few weeks ago, he said something fearful. I would listen for awhile. Then I would say, “Jesus, Rex, this isn’t Brian’s Song yet.”
“OK, Magic,” he said.
Well. I love you, too.
And I’ll never see 9:15 pm again without seeing your face.
Ex-Blade cartoonist [and former AAEC member] had distinctive style
Edward Ashley drew editorial cartoons for The Blade.
By MARK ZABORNEY
BLADE STAFF WRITER
MILAN, Ohio - Edward J. Ashley, editorial cartoonist of The Blade in the 1970s and early '80s whose distinctive style combined humor, commentary, and humanity, died Saturday in his home. He was 88.
The family did not report the cause of death.
Mr. Ashley's cartoons often were about topics of the day: gasoline prices, Soviet-U.S. relations, and politics local and national.
One cartoon shows a capsule from a NASA Apollo mission awaiting retrieval in the ocean, buffeted by waves labeled, "unemployment," "fear," "crime," "hate," "poverty," and "war." An astronaut peers forlornly at what's outside his window and says, "We're home."
His cartoons also could be self-referential. A cartoon after President Nixon's resignation shows the artist at work, a caricature of Mr. Nixon on the drawing board, a dart-festooned poster of Mr. Nixon on the wall, and Mr. Nixon walking away from the artist into a room labeled "political oblivion." The caption: "Come to think of it, there goes one of the best friends a cartoonist ever had."
A gag for several Christmases running was the artist's struggle to find original ways to say "Merry Christmas."
Another cartoon shows a man and woman at the breakfast table. The man, holding an open newspaper, says, "It's Easter all right. The editorial cartoonist just laid another egg."
"He was a great guy and one of the best cartoonists," said Kirk Walters, who succeeded Mr. Ashley in 1985 and remains in that position. "He was one of those cartoonists whose work stood out because it was so original."
“My father Bob Drebelbis, who many of you knew as Dreb passed today at 94,” wrote daughter Candi Garrison in a November 16 email. “His years with you as your Secretary Treasurer were always precious to him. He drew cartoons at his home in the Air Force Village until he went into the hospital just last week. Always a cartoonist to the end.”
Cartooning was actually Col. Robert “Dreb” Drebelbis’s third career, after working as a variety store merchant for the SS Kresge Co., and serving as pilot in both WWII and the Korean War. He was commissioned as a Officer in the USAF and retired in 1973.
Dreb later became a cartoonist for the Harrison Daily Times in Harrison, Ark., drawing throughout the ’70s and ’80s. He was a long-time member of the AAEC and Secretary-Treasurer from 1981 to 1984.
In fact, it was Drebelbis who famously —and literally — threw Doug Marlette out of the 1982 San Francisco convention for being behind on dues and trying to charge his room to the AAEC.
R.C. Harvey recalled “When he was confronted by [Dreb], who attempted to advise him of his error, Marlette brushed him off. The gentleman in question took umbrage at this and grabbed Marlette by the collar and marched him away; [Marlette] never came back...”
Drebelbis is survived by three children, and seven grandchildren.
"This is a sad day, indeed," wrote Clay Bennett in a note on the AAEC-L.
"I worked with Don Addis for thirteen years at the St. Petersburg Times. Both of us being cartoonists, our relationship was both collegial and competitive... with an emphasis placed on 'competitive'.
"We were never close friends, but we shared a passion for cartooning and an impatience with stupidity. So, although we may not have been bosom buddies, we were definitely kindred spirits.
"Having a second editorial cartoonist at the newspaper always kept me on my toes. Being published across the page from Don, I always felt like we were being compared directly, that we were in a daily cartooning competition. Some days, it went my way, other days it went his, but every single day it kept me working as hard as I could to sway the outcome of the contest.
"Even though we had dramatically different drawing styles, different approaches to our craft, and a different tone to our work, Don played an instrumental role in my development as a cartoonist. Not only did he have me constantly hustling to keep up with him, but also showed me, through example, how the same end could be achieved through drastically different means.
"I left the St. Pete Times over 15 years ago, but I still see glimmers of Don Addis appearing in my own work from time to time. Don both broadened my creative horizons as a cartoonist, and helped to inspire a work ethic that still has my wife complaining that I get home too late each night.
"I wouldn't be the cartoonist I am today had I not worked with, and competed against Don Addis. He was a cartoonist I admired, and a man the world will miss."
For the St. Pete obit of Don Addis, click here: http://www.tampabay.com/news/obituaries/former-times-cartoonist-don-addis-dies/1055351
who for 58 years contributed cartoons to the editorial page of The Oklahoman,
and was one of the founding members of the AAEC, died on April 16.
retired in October after a prodigious career for the daily newspaper in
his adopted hometown. From 1950, when he joined The Oklahoman at the age
of 24, until recent years, Lange produced seven cartoons a week. At retirement,
he was still drawing five a week. No one, not even Lange, knew exactly
how many cartoons he had published over his career, but it probably exceeded
tenure was the longest of any newsroom employee in the history of the newspaper,
which has been published continuously since 1894. He was the only employee
in the history of The Oklahoma Publishing Co. to work closely with the
three generations of the Gaylord family, who have owned The Oklahoman since
his wife Helen, survivors include two sons, Jim and Robert, both of Oklahoma
City; a daughter, Nancy, of Columbia, Tenn.; and 11 grandchildren.
Lange was born Aug. 15, 1926, in Winnebago. Minn., and spent most of his
early years in Dubuque, Iowa. Following a stint in the U.S. Air Force during
World War II, he spent his GI Bill funds at the Chicago Academy of Fine
Arts. He had always wanted to be an artist, he said. When he was a child,
his parents kept him quiet in church with a pencil and paper.
in a series of temporary, adventurous jobs until he met the woman he wanted
to marry. One of Lange's favorite stories was how his wife, the former
Helen Johnstone, prompted him to come to Oklahoma. She refused to marry
him, he said, until he had a real job.
So he began
researching newspapers that had no full-time political cartoonists. Not
knowing the protocol, he wrote to E.K. Gaylord, the editor and publisher.
Gaylord personally negotiated the terms of Lange's employment, which began
Oct. 1, 1950.
cartoon featured then Gov. Roy Turner. Before long the trademarks of Lange's
work began to appear, such as oil wells scattered in the background that
identified scenes as Oklahoma. His most notable character was John Q. Public,
Lange's cartoon sidekick who represented the common citizen trying to understand
the political maneuvers of the powerful.
his career, Lange's most advanced technology was a black felt-tip pen and
poster board. Occasionally he would whip out a pen and draft an idea on
a handy napkin.
he checked newspaper and broadcast reports, so that he arrived at his office
with several ideas for the day's cartoon. He made rough sketches of a half-dozen
or so, then submitted them to the publisher or the editorial page editor.
He completed the one selected. He once said in an interview that the newspaper's
executives rarely told him what to draw; his political philosophy was close
enough to theirs that he knew what they wanted.
one of the founding members of the American Association of Editorial Cartoonists
and served a term as its president from 1983-1984. His work was frequently
included in the annual publication, Best Editorial Cartoons of the Year,
and a collection of his best work was published by The Oklahoman in the
the posturings of many famous people; he insulted, scolded or ridiculed
them when he thought it necessary. In
a 2000 interview, on his 50th anniversary on the job, Lange said that the
worst thing someone in his line of work could do to a politician, except
ignore him completely, was to laugh at him.
praised them when he deemed it appropriate. He didn't dislike anybody,
he said once; he just didn't agree with some.
subjects called as soon as their morning papers were delivered to request
the original sketches, no matter how insulting they were. His work hangs
in many government offices, and the morning's cartoon was often the topic
of conversation across Oklahoma.
one of the first AAEC Ink Bottle Awards in 1983 and was inducted into the
Oklahoma Journalism Hall of Fame in 1993. Lange was also a director or
officer of several civic and professional organizations, ranging from the
Oklahoma City Zoological Society to the Oklahoma City Gridiron Foundation.
a natural entertainer and storyteller. With drawing pad and pen for props,
he performed for banquets, club meetings, conventions and fairs across
the state. When he told jokes, he laughed more heartily and with more delight
than his audience.
writing on the AAEC-L, recalled: “Jim hosted the first AAEC convention
I attended in the mid 1980's and made it among the most memorable. It was
the most meat I'd ever eaten in any given four day period. Over the years
spending time with Jim and Helen was always a highlight, regardless of
the setting. He will be truly missed.”
In the 2000
interview, Lange responded to a question about why he hadn't retired when
the appropriate age arrived. He said his job was just too good to leave.
a very long, successful life and career doing what he loved to do in a
place where he loved to do it,” said cartoonist Wiley Miller. “You can't
ask for more than that.”