by Mankoff, Bob
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Dedicated to everyone who has ever done a cartoon for The New Yorker
Charles Addams, John Agee, Alain, Constantin Alajalov, Edward H. Allison, Gideon Amichay, C. W. Anderson, Geroge Annand, Robb Armstrong, Ed Arno, Peter Arno, Andrea Arroyo, Jose Arroyo, Jose Aruego, Niculae Asciu, Van Ass, T. K. Atherton, Aaron Bacall, Tom Bachtell, Peggy Bacon, Howard Baer, Bruce Bairnsfather, Ernest Hamlin Baker, Cyrus Baldridge, Perry Barlow, Bob Barnes, H. Barnes, Charles Barsotti, Donna Barstow, Ralph Barton, H. M. Bateman, Ross Bateup, Roland Baum, Glen Baxter, Ben Hur Baz, Alex Beam, Kate Beaton, Frank Beaven, Ludwig Bemelmans, Nora Benjamin, Bill Berg, Erik Bergstrom, Mike Berry, François Berthoud, Daniel Beyer, Michael Biddle, Reginald Birch, Kenneth Bird, Abe Birnbaum, Mahlon Blaine, Harry Bliss, Barry Blitt, A. Bloomberg, Victor Bobritsky, W. Bohanan, Ruben Bolling, Simon Bond, George Booth, David Borchart, Douglas Borgstedt, Irv. Breger, Herb Breneman, Wayne Bressler, Steve Brodner, Buck Brown, Chris Browne, M. K. Brown, Johan Bull, Gilbert Bundy, R. 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Sikoryak, Andrew Singer, David Sipress, Stephanie Skalisky, Barbara Smaller, Francis Smilby, Claude Smith, F. E. Smith, J. K. Smith, Henry Holmes Smith, Ton Smits, Karen Sneider, David Snell, Otto Soglow, Aaron Sopher, Edward Sorel, Leo Soretsky, M. Van Sort, Art Spiegelman, Mark Alan Stamaty, J. Stanley, Leslie Starke, Kemp Starrett, Edward Steed, William Steig, Henry Anton Steig, David Stein, Avi Steinberg, Saul Steinberg, Peter Steiner, Hans Stengel, Mick Stevens, James Stevenson, Jack Stockwell, Storm, Susanne Suba, Ed Subitsky, A. M. Suggs, Julia Suits, Ward Sutton, Anthony Taber, Richard Taylor, Eric Teitelbaum, R. Thayer, Mark Thompson, C. Throckmorton, James Thurber, Tidden, Jack Tippet, Barney Tobey, Tom Tomorrow, Tom Toro, William de la Torre, Tousey, Irwin Touster, M. Towle, S. Trachtenberg, W. P. Trent, Larry Trepel, Charles Tudor, Buford Tune, Mike Twohy, Ed Umansky, Eben A. Valentine, R. Van Buren, Hendrik Van Loon, Bud Van Sickle, M. Van Sort, P. C. Vey, Dean Vietor, S. Wade, T. Waldeyer,
John S. P. Walker, Liam Walsh, Dearing Ward, Eric Monroe Ward, Kim Warp, Noel Watson, Arthur Watts, Steve Way, Paul Webb, Robert Weber, Philippe Weisbecker, Andrew Weldon, Christopher Weyant, Shannon Wheeler, Wiggins, A. F. Wiles, Fred Wilkinson, Gilbert Wilkinson, Gluyas Williams, Herb Williams, Wilton Williams, George Wilson, Bernie Wiseman, Horace Wofford, W. Wolfson, Lawson Wood, Bill Woodman, Denys Wortman, G. Wright, Richard Yardley, Art Young, Bertrand Zadig, Roz Zanengo, A. Zeiger, Jack Ziegler
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Introduction
1. I’m Not Arguing, I’m Jewish
2. We’re Looking for People Who Like to Draw
3. A Brief History of Cartooning
4. Deconstructing New Yorker Cartoons
5. Finding My Style
6. My Generation
7. Laughing All the Way to the Cartoon Bank
8. Lucking Out, Getting In
9. Seinfeld and the Cartoon Episode
10. Tooning The New Yorker: Where Cartoons Come From
11. The Cartoon Department
12. David Decides
13. How to “Win” the New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest
14. The Kids Are All Right
Acknowledgments
Illustration Credits
Also by Bob Mankoff
About the Author
Copyright
INTRODUCTION
Since this is an introduction, I think it only appropriate that I introduce myself.
Hi, I’m Bob Mankoff, cartoon editor of The New Yorker magazine. I may not have the best job in the world, but I’m in the running.
Actually, I have the best jobs in the world. For my day job, I get to see more than five hundred cartoons every week from the best cartoonists. I also moonlight as a cartoonist for The New Yorker and have contributed more than nine hundred cartoons myself. The caption of my most famous one is now so firmly entrenched in the culture as an all-purpose put-down phrase that it can be referenced as though it were an anonymous aphorism; Nancy Pelosi did just that during the 2012 election.
Probably just a coincidence that the marketing mavens behind this book chose it as the title.
Okay, now you have me at a disadvantage. You know a little something about me, but I know zip about you, except for one thing: you like New Yorker cartoons. Why else would you be reading this?
Well, that makes two of us, and unless those same marketing mavens are very much mistaken, there are quite a few more likers like us. There better be. I’m sure you’re a swell person and I’m not a bad guy myself, but publishing a book for just the two of us wouldn’t make much sense.
And as much as we both like New Yorker cartoons, it wouldn’t make sense for this book to just be another collection of New Yorker cartoons. There are plenty of those. Hey, I should know.
So, what exactly is this book about? Long story short, me. Look, it’s a memoir, and you can’t spell memoir without the moi. But short story a little longer, it’s summed up nicely in the contract I signed to do the book.
That pretty much lays it out and doesn’t do too bad a job, although it does underestimate the number of cartoons by a factor of three. And as contracts are not meant to be funny, it isn’t. But this book is, and not just because of the cartoons.
I feel if something is worth saying, it’s worth saying funny. That’s why even though the contract specified forty thousand words, I ended up with only thirty-six thousand, because the other ones weren’t funny enough.
But all the laughs have a narrative purpose: to tell my story as a person, cartoonist, and cartoon editor within the larger story of the extraordinary institution that made magazine cartooning an important part of American culture, The New Yorker. So, I’m going to, as it were, show the soup-to-nuts process of cartoon creation, selection, editing, and publishing that makes a New Yorker cartoon unique and delectable. Along the way, you’ll get to know not only me but also the fascinating cast of cartoonists and editors who make all of this possible. And for the icing on the cake, I’m going to tell you how to win our famous caption contest.
Even though this book is relatively short, I’ve been working on it for a long time—really, my whole life as a cartoonist and cartoon editor. At least in the back of my mind I have. But a number of things precipitated moving it to the front.
First was my reinvolvement, after a thirty-year absence, in academic psychology. In the 1970s, I was an all-but-PhD student when I quit to become a cartoonist. Some thirty years later, I discovered that the field I’d abandoned could help me better understand the field I was in, and vice versa. In my absence, an entire discipline devoted to the study of humor had sprung up.
Putting all my all-but-PhD expertise to good use, I’ve been using cartoons to do research into humor and then using that research to better understand cartoons. One of the things I’ve learned along the way is that although humor is a fascinating topic, academics, being academics, can take the fun out of it and make it boring. Not to worry—I’m not a real academic.
However, I won’t be constantly “on.” That would be as tedious as being always “off.” Besides, much as I hate to admit it, you can’t explain everything with a joke, especially another joke. That would lead to an “infinite regression,” in which each joke would have to be explained by another joke, eventually using up all the jokes in the world and leaving us with a very sad planet with one damn joke still to be explained.
Still, there’s a middle ground, a sweet spot for the use of humor in explaining humor, and cartoons are often the spot-on way to hit it.
“Too soon?”
So, fearlessly, but hopefully not foolishly, I’ve ignored E. B. White’s famous admonition that “analyzing humor is like dissecting a frog. Few people are interested and the frog dies of it.” In fact, my online New Yorker newsletter is all about this analysis.
And even though the occasional frog bites the dust, no mass amphibian extinction occurs.
“We will always have Paris.”
The second thing that prompted me to actually put pen to paper was that writing the newsletter every week let me develop a writing style that was truly my own, using images and text in an organic way (the way I’m doing here) in which each reinforced the other. Technology now allowed me to access an illustrative cartoon as quickly as an app might autocorrect a word.
“Oh, I see what happened. Autocorrect changed ‘southpaw’ to ‘sauerkraut.’”
The third motivating factor was the realization that I wasn’t going to be the cartoon editor of The New Yorker forever—not because I plan to retire anytime soon, but because I’m not going be anything forever, including, alas, sob, alive.
I mean, I’m relatively young if you consider sixty-nine to be relatively young, which I don’t, but relatively soon I’ll be pushing seventy from the wrong side. This cartoon notwithstanding,
“Good news, honey—seventy is the new fifty.”
I figured it might be a good idea to do my memoiring while I still had plenty of memory to memoir with.
Fourthly and finally, while the nature of memoiring is to look back, I realized that I had a lot to look forward to. And you, New Yorker cartoon liker, do too, because after fifteen years, my main goal upon becoming cartoon editor had been achieved.
When I took over as cartoon editor, in 1997, I inherited a great bunch of cartoonists. Many of their cartoon characters are behind me in the opening image of this introduction. And many of them are still doing great cartoons for us. Only, if I couldn’t help develop a new generation on my watch, eventually, alas, sob, there would be no more New Yorker cartoons. But stay your tears, because that new generation is here in force, and as a force it is changing the nature of what it means to be a New Yorker cartoon.
Still, with all due immodesty, they wouldn’t be here without me, so before getting to their story, I think I should tell mine. The only question is when to start. How about now—is now good for you?<
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CHAPTER ONE
I’M NOT ARGUING, I’M JEWISH
People often ask me about my upbringing, and if there was anything particular about it that made me become a cartoonist.
To that, I could reply, “If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”
But I don’t, because if you want to know the truth, that is the first paragraph of J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye and has nothing to do with me—except that I first read that book back in my eleventh-grade English class and have been hoping ever since that I could work it into something I was writing, and now I have. So let me throw in a Salinger New Yorker cartoon of mine for good measure.
“And, in literary news, J.D. Salinger’s privacy has been violated once again by his appearance in this cartoon.”
But enough about Salinger. He’s dead now, and I’m still hanging in there.
So, let’s move back to the influences of my un-lousy childhood, in which I was the much loved (maybe too much loved) and doted upon only child of Lou and Mollie Mankoff, here seen in 1939, the year they were married.
No doubt I was doted on somewhat for my eminent dotableness.
Mollie was flamboyant and needy. Lou was reserved and giving. It was a case of the reserved Lou finding in the emotional Mollie someone who could complete him, and of Mollie finding someone who could balance her emotionalism. Besides, Mollie was hot. There’s an old song that goes,