[August 4th
marks the 125th
anniversary of the day that Lizzie Borden may or may not have taken an axe
and given her mother
forty whacks and her father forty-one (more on that crucial ambiguity in
Friday’s post). So this week I’ll AmericanStudy five histories or stories of
deeply troubled children, leading up to a special weekend post on two children
who are anything but!]
On three telling
aspects of a longstanding, troublemaking
presence on the funny pages.
1)
Autobiographical origins: Cartoonist Hank
Ketcham’s four year old son Dennis was such a youthful troublemaker that
Hank’s wife Alice was known to exclaim, “Your son is a menace!” Shortly thereafter,
on March 12th,
1951, Hank debuted a comic
strip entitled Dennis the Menace,
featuring the Mitchell family: father Henry/Hank, mother Alice, and son Dennis.
I don’t mean to suggest that every comic strip is based on the life and
identity of the cartoonist, necessarily—but I’m willing to bet that quite often,
even when he or she changes certain elements, there’s at least an autobiographical
core (ie, Dik
Browne didn’t live in Viking times, but I’d be surprised if there isn’t a
good deal of Hagar the Horrible
in Dik nonetheless). In any case, Dennis’s mischievous exploits are portrayed
with such precision and begrudging love that it’s no surprise to learn that
there was a real-life kid behind the freckles and overalls.
2)
Multicultural misstep: Every comic strip that’s
around for decades must evolve over that time (although they don’t always—I’m
looking at you, Garfield), and not
all of those changes are going to work out, particularly when they engage with
complex cultural issues in periods of social shifts. In the late 1960s, Ketham
introduced Jackson, an African-American neighbor of Dennis’ drawn very overtly
in the stereotypical
(and by this time quite outdated) “pickaninny” style. I’m not sure I can any
more concisely sum up the problems with this character, both in image and in
how Ketcham used him for humor, than does this May,
1970 strip. There’s not really ever a good time to introduce such a racist
character, but the late 1960s was a particularly bad time, and as might be
expected protests
erupted at newspaper offices in Detroit, Little Rock, and St. Louis, among
others. Ketcham agreed to shelve Jackson, although the quotes of his in that
last hyperlinked story indicate that he never quite understood why such a
racist depiction wouldn’t be the best way to add a new culture into his strip’s
world.
3)
Still serialized: Ketcham retired in 1994 and
passed away in 2001, but Dennis
continues to this day: drawn by his former assistants Marcus
Hamilton and Ron Ferdinand, and serialized in at least 1000 newspapers in
nearly 50 countries. That the strip is still going strong 66 years after its
debut certainly reflects the universal appeal of a mischievous but lovable
young boy and of family and neighborhood life. But at the same time, I would
argue that the longstanding presence of so many decades-old strips—my hometown
paper, the Charlottesville (VA) Daily Progress, features a significant percentage of the same strips I grew up
reading a few decades ago—reflects a genre that is somewhat slower to adapt
than the culture and society around it. Am I suggesting that Dennis, Hagar,
Dagwood and Blondie, Garfield, and their venerable peers aren’t always the most
engaged with life in 2017 America? Yes, yes I am—and while that’s not necessarily
a bad thing (timelessness isn’t necessarily less desirable than timeliness), it
needs at least to be balanced by newer and more 21st century strips.
Next problem
child(ren) tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think? Other histories or stories you’d highlight?
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