They Were Strong and Good, 1941 Caldecott Winner: Unintended Consequences

 

With America on the brink of a war that the rest of the world was embroiled in, it is not surprising that ALA would bestow its 1941 Caldecott gold on a book that celebrated America. Both the title and text of They Were Strong and Good unabashedly assert author and illustrator Robert Lawson's purpose: to tell the story of his parents and grandparents, and in so doing, pay tribute to the ordinary people who helped build an extraordinary nation. As he stated in a speech to the Cleveland Library Association in 1940:

Now about this book They were Strong and Good. Lots of people have asked me why I wrote it-- it hasn't much story. It is just a simple account, mostly in pictures, of my mother and my father and their mothers and fathers, my grandparents. But it is pretty much the story of your parents and grandparents too. None of them were great or famous. It doesn't matter whether they were see captains or preachers or cowboys or farmers or hardware merchants or just good mothers. They were the simple, ordinary people of the generations before us who worked hard and were strong and good and who each in his own small way helped to build up this great country out of a wilderness. They have turned all this over to us and it is up to us to keep it a great nation. I have hoped that just presenting a simple picture of some of these people would give to the young people of this time and perhaps to their parents a feeling of pride in their country and their forefathers and a feeling of greater responsibility. Right now our country could do with a lot of both. I hope that this book will cause some of the young people of today to look back and think about what they did, these parents and grandparents and great-grandparents of our, and to think about what we haven't done and to feel, as I do, a little ashamed of ourselves and to decide to do something about it, to be a little more worthy of them (Lawson, Cleveland Library Speech).

Such a pointed message was a new milestone for Lawson. He was well established as a children's book artist, having been a Caldecott runner up twice before -- in 1939 for Wee Gillis and in 1938 for Four and Twenty Blackbirds: Old Nursery Rhymes -- as well as the illustrator for the 1936 smash hit The Story of Ferdinand. However, his most popular works thus far had been noted for their humor, with enjoyment as their main purpose. Now that he had both critical and commercial success, he had earned the freedom not just to pick his own projects but to originate them as well -- and he was not afraid to use it.

Given this background, you might see this book and heave a sigh as you open it, preparing for an onslaught of traditional patriotic preaching. Even the cover, with its staid portraits and red-gold flourishes, makes you think that this book will be will be a dated and forgettable experience.

Nothing could be further from the truth -- although admittedly, the book will make an impression of different people for different reasons.

Although Lawson makes his purpose known in the Foreword to the book, the message is quite short and not nearly as heavy-handed as the speeches he gave about the book. Instead, like any good storyteller, he is quick to just get on with the action -- or in this case, to give brief accounts of the lives of his grandparents and parents. 

Each account is simple but lyrical, and Lawson chooses to focus on events that underscore the humanity of these people -- strangers to us and (at least in the case of his grandparents) distant from him. Of course, this being a Caldecott book, the exquisite artwork brings these tales fully to life.

Thus, we see his grandfather, a swashbuckling Scott, almost felled by a parrot and then smitten by the demure Dutch girl he happens upon at port. Their intense romance is only suggested, and cut short by the bride's seasickness on the way to their Caribbean honeymoon. Note the humor that the parrot brings, first undercutting the Scott's proud strut by climbing the crewman's hat -- and the pandemonium that ensues when he eats a hat; the monkey's shocked look says it all.

I love the smile that his mother's mother makes while his grandfather is talking to her in the wagon. It perfectly captures that flirtatious mood when you are cautioning yourself against taking a person too seriously but also hoping that they mean what they're saying.

We also see the young couple, both sick of the sea, move to Minnesota, where life proves a bit too rough for their gentle daughter, Lawson's mother, who attends a convent school where she learns, among other things, how to charm bees. Notice in these pictures how Lawson captures the raucousness of the Minnesota lumberjacks, and the horror on his mother's face -- and how just a few pages later, he creates an almost Eden-like world.

We see his other grandfather "always fighting something," be it Satan or Yankees, and can tell from his expression that he was never at peace -- while the distant profile of his father's mother and brevity of her tale make us wonder if that fighting spirit took its toll on her. It's a glaring reminder that everyone's family has untold stories.

Finally, we see his father, who went off to war at the age of 14, where he got "not much of a mule" but "he was not much of a man." That would change as he taught himself to endure the suffering of battles and diminishing resources with honor -- and later to embark on a new life in New York City.

Thus, Lawson provides plenty of details to help the reader connect with these ordinary people of the past. However, for modern audiences, several of these details also may make such connections impossible. The depictions of African Americans and other nonwhites, two of which appear above, have been called cliched and stereotypical, and in a few places, Lawson's language doesn't help matters. He refers to the Native Americans where his mother grew up as "tame" (wording that I believe was later changed) and makes a point of saying that his mother feared them. Readers today also may cringe (I did) at the matter-of-fact way that he writes of his father "having" Dick, a slave -- listed as a possession after his two dogs.

Such an approach clearly (and rightly) would draw criticism today -- as would Lawson's assertion that the story of his family is "pretty much the story of your parents and grandparents too." I know, for example, that it is not the story of my parents and grandparents. Far from it. And it is not the story of countless other Americans who built, and continue to "build up this great country"  (Lawson, Cleveland Library Speech).

With all of this in mind, the impact of this book depends entirely on the individual reader -- more so than most. While some will no doubt revel in its traditional patriotism, others will reject it as a not-so-subtle example of racism in children's books from a previous era. For myself, I think the book does a very good job of creating some memorable artwork and showing the humanity, however flawed, of people from a different age. I also think it could prove a useful tool to have discussions about prejudice, racism, and changing social mores -- conversations that we desperately need to start having and not shying away from. While that may not be the legacy that Lawson intended for They Were Strong and Good, I believe that it might be an even greater gift than he realized.

Lawson, R. (1940). “Cleveland Library Speech 1940.” Free Library of Philadelphia, Frederick R. Gardner Collection of Robert Lawson, Box 39, Folder 35.

For More on this Book & Artist, see:

• They Were Strong and Good: Caldecott & Book Collector Notes

James Daugherty Caldecott Honoree: An American Artist of his Time

 

(Self-portrait from "Foreword" in
West of Boston: Yankee Rhymes and Doggerel)

James Daugherty (1887-1974) was a prolific artist who was active from his youth at the turn of the century to his death in 1974 -- and by all accounts, his vision was just as fresh and forward-looking in the 1970s as it was during the 1910s. He received two Caldecott Honors: One in 1939 for Andy and the Lion, which he also wrote, and the other in 1957 for Gillespie and the Guards, written by Benjamin Elkin. He also won the 1940 Newbery for his own Daniel Boone. He carries illustrator credits on 104 books, 15 of which he also wrote; a full bibliography is available at the Friends of James Daugherty Foundation.

Who Was James Daugherty?

There are multiple places to find a basic biography of this great artist. The Friends of James Daugherty Foundation posts the definitive James Daugherty Chronology, which is more comprehensive than the standard Wikipedia biography. You can also can find short but good biographies at the Connecticut State Library and nocloo.com. 

Beyond names, dates, and places, there is a lot to learn about James Daugherty from his writings, as well as reflections on him and his work by colleagues, friends, and students of his work. Looking here, I saw him as a well-read man of faith who loved his family and his country. That said, his patriotism did not blind him to the inequities and problems around him. He fully recognized that the Unites States had not realized the ideals on which it was based, and he understood the challenges that we still had to overcome. However, he celebrated the progress that those before him had made and believed in the wisdom and power of the next generation to go even further -- and he saw art and the free expression of ideas as critical to helping them achieve this promise.

With that said, not all of his work would hold up for modern audiences. In fact, his book Daniel Boone is the first (only?) Newbery-winner to be taken out of print due its depictions of Native Americans, although it is still available on some library shelves. Such questionable, if not simply offensive, images pop up here and there in his other works as well. I bring this up not to detract from his achievements but simply to raise the red flag for those who may be interested in seeking out more of his considerable work. As you will see if you scroll below, much of his work is quite powerful and often forward-looking. 

In fact, I think if Daugherty were alive today, he would be more likely to hear and accept such feedback on his work. He truly believed in the ideals of his country and understood that we had not attained them. More important, he trusted the next generation to know more and do better. As he stated in his Newbery Acceptance Paper for Daniel Boone: "Let us not be betrayed and put to sleep by the past. Let us look more realistically and idealistically at the present in our won land -- these teeming grade and high schools, with their dynamic young Americans stepping out on the great adventure of living, call for fresh and candid thinking" (p. 189). 

However, nowhere is his faith in the future vision clearer than in his poem "Graduating Class" from West of Boston:

In time of doubt, change, confusion, the future uncertain,

when there is no turning back, standing still, no backward look, no retreat,

a new generation springs up crying, asking, "Mister, which way peace with justice on the side?"

They keep coming, marching, rushing up like the green corn,

upspringing, full of green sap, shooting toward the sun,

pushing on upstream toward the uplands on the long ascent,

following the western star beyond the old boundaries into new country,

unmapped, uncharted, always forward-advancing, pausing and then pushing onward,

as long as the grass shall grow and the rivers run.

These are only a sample of what American democracy can do at turning out first-rate men and women . . . maybe not all experts or geniuses, but maybe better, having sound character and native intelligence.

Because this enterprise, these States, this freedom, is still so new, 

this liberty so green . . .only a start toward possibilities

infinite, horizons unlimited (p. 70-71)

Given these expressions, I find it difficult to believe that he would NOT want to hear and learn from audiences today.

Below is a chronology of words and works by and about James Daugherty. It is by no means exhaustive, as he was quite prolific (According to Lynd Ward, he completed a full drawing every 15 minutes.). I hope, though, that it gives an idea of his art. 

(As a side note: I have not purposely included any potentially objectionable illustrations because I really don't want to keep those types of things in circulation or detract from the larger body of his work --especially since there is a lot of beauty there. I have, however, noted books where I recall seeing such illustrations. My intention wasn't to detract from the art shown or to incite; I just didn't want anyone who may seek out the books to be surprised by them. On the other side of that: If something I posted is problematic, please email me through the blog. I am aware that my perspective may blind me to things, and I am ready to learn and make corrections.)

1914-1970
From James Daugherty: Late Abstractions. New York: Spanierman Gallery LLC, 2002.

When you draw really freely, letting the lines go for a walk on their own, they begin to answer each other in a sort of rhythmic dance -- James Daugherty, Introduction to West of Boston: Yankee Rhymes and Doggerel. New York: Viking, 1956, p. 8

1928

From Sandburg, Carl. Abe Lincoln Grows Up. Illustrated by James Daugherty. New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company.

"Abe Lincoln Grows Up . . .reached a new high in compatibility between text and pictures. Daugherty established an very vital relationship between the words and the drawings. The book became the union of these two inseparable elements" -- Lynd Ward, "Biographical Note: James Daugherty" in Newbery Medal Books: 1922-1955 with their Author's Acceptance Papers and Related Material chiefly from the Horn Book Magazine, p. 182

Ward's praise is fitting, but there are some depictions that likely would be omitted if the book were reprinted today. The focus, however, is on Lincoln.

1933-1939
From "James Daugherty (1887-1974): American Modernist Works on Paper from the New Deal Era [1933-1939]." New York: Janet Marqusee Fine Arts.

"Life Magazine in October 1937 devoted several pages to Daugherty's mural commission . . .The article's headline reads 'A SHY ARTIST PAINTS BOLD MURALS: JAMES DAUGHERTY'S FAVORITE SUBJECT IS AMERICA' and describes the artist as a 'soft-spoken blue-eyed man who . . . paints with a flamboyance and vigor that belie his diffident manner. Violent in color and sweeping in subject . . . Daugherty is well equipped to depict the American scene" -- Janet Marqusee (p. 6)

". . .Daugherty has directed his talent towards the rendering in visual terms the roots of American life. He has chosen two forms in which to channel his expression, the book and the mural. It would be difficult to find two media more widely separated from the point of view of physical size, but beneath this apparent disparity there exists a logical unity that reflects the basic motivation of Daugherty's work . . .both of these media imply talking to a large audience and saying something to that audience that shall be both articulate and meaningful. This is precisely what Daugherty does and his work in each form gains sustenance from his experience in the other" -- -- Lynd Ward, "Biographical Note: James Daugherty" in Newbery Medal Books: 1922-1955 with their Author's Acceptance Papers and Related Material chiefly from the Horn Book Magazine, p. 181

I think that children's literature is much devitalized by the reluctance of writers and artists to look the present in the face. If Huckleberry Finn is a great national classic, the great American juvenile, it is partly because an artists looked at it, and keenly sympathized with, what he knew and lived. I imagine the Lower Mississippi was just as dull and drab then as now, and the colorless vagrants of the river towns were not then the fictional material that they have since become. . . --James Daugherty, "Daniel Boone Acceptance Paper," in Newbery Medal Books: 1922-1955 with their Author's Acceptance Papers and Related Material chiefly from the Horn Book Magazine, p. 187

1938

From Andy and the Lion, a Caldecott Honor book. Illustrated and written by James Daugherty. New York: Viking, 1938.

"The book is gay both in its physical aspect where a yellow second color appears on every page and in its spirit of happy, carefree childhood, where fact and fancy combine in a world far more real than the prosaic pedestrianism of adult years" -- Lynd Ward, "Biographical Note: James Daugherty" in Newbery Medal Books: 1922-1955 with their Author's Acceptance Papers and Related Material chiefly from the Horn Book Magazine, p. 183

"The admirable brevity of the tale is also worth notice. Every step is here, but not one unnecessary word, with the result that the reader feels he is moving as rapidly and sometimes as breathlessly as the lively young hero. . . The drawings of Andy and the lion running rapidly around the rock . . .convey an amazing sense of motion . . . a rollicking good humor which young readers find irresistible" -- Anne T. Eaton, New York Times Book Review, May 22, 1938

 

1939

From Daugherty, James. Daniel Boone. New York: The Viking Press. This book won the 1940 Newbery Award. Again, this book is out of print due to its depictions of Native Americans. Since I think that decision says enough about them, I have not included any below.

"Unlike many who seek to recreate in terms of art the vital qualities of our heritage from the past, Daugherty is able to give you a sense of having been there himself and known the qualities of those earlier experiences firsthand" -- Lynd Ward, "Biographical Note: James Daugherty" in Newbery Medal Books: 1922-1955 with their Author's Acceptance Papers and Related Material chiefly from the Horn Book Magazine, p. 182

Certainly the vast and fantastic epic of America is a rich storehouse of true stories that make the legends of Greece and Old Europe seem trivial and tame, Instead of a handful of bad-tempered national heroes, we have a vast lore of actual saints, desperadoes, romantics, inventors, robber barons, Indian chiefs and rail-splitters roaring across the plains and mountains in a cavalcade so fierce and gaudy, so splendid and ragged, so near and so real that a whole race of writers and artists is needed to sing and to image it, make books and plays and symphonies, sculptured friezes and murals in libraries -- celebrating the nation composed of all nations marching on the long, rough road to freedom -- James Daughtery, "Daniel Boone Acceptance Paper," in Newbery Medal Books: 1922-1955 with their Author's Acceptance Papers and Related Material chiefly from the Horn Book Magazine, p. 187

 

1941
From Thornton, Willis. Almanac for Americans. Illustrated by James Daugherty. New York: Greenberg Publisher, 1941, 1954. 

Although these words are penned by Willis Thornton about the book and don't concern Daugherty, I could see him nodding his head in agreement:

"Just as some people go to church twice a year -- at Easter and at Christmas -- so there are some who turn a conscious thought to patriotism and its background in the history of the Republic only on the Fourth of July, and possibly on the birthdays of Lincoln and Washington. 

The thought of the past struggles of our people to gain what they have gained ought to be more consistently with us. So rich in incident has our history become, that every day of the year has long been graced with a memorable event. . . I hope [this book of days] may give to many the sense of fullness of the crowded story of America, in which every day of the year has its testimony to make. . ." -- Preface to Almanac for Americans.

1943
From Daugherty, James. Abraham Lincoln. New York: The Viking Press, 1943.

1947
From Lincoln's Gettysburg Address: A Pictorial Interpretation Painted by James Daugherty. Chicago: Albert Whitman & Company Publishers, 1947, 2013.

Again we have stood at the close of a great war, the most terrible in history, with the unfinished task before us. At a time when events, directions, and purposes seem confused and the path ahead clouded and obscure, Lincoln's words are clear, strong, comforting, eloquent of the central idea. The stupendous rush of history has not ignored but expanded their deepest meanings. . . In spite of the failures and the betrayals, the long delays and setbacks, we the people have not failed. Our voice has spoken out clear and strong the testament of liberty. . . -- James Daugherty, Weston Connecticut, Introduction 

 For more about the book, check out the Kirkus Review.

1954

From Elkin, Benjamin. The Loudest Noise in the World. Illustrated by James Daugherty. New York: Viking.

In her New York Times book review, Ellen Lewis Buell wrote, ". . .James Daugherty makes the book as good to look at as it is to hear" (March 21, 1954). It is certainly a fun story, but its depictions of non-white cultures will offend modern audiences. (See my Goodreads review.)

1955
From Miers, Earl Schenck. The New and Revised Edition: The Rainbow Book of American History. Illustrated by James Daugherty. Cleveland and New York: The World Publishing Company, 1955 (Second Edition, 1962).

1956
From Elkin, Benjamin. Gillespie and the Guards. Illustrated by James Daugherty. New York: The Viking Press. 1956. 

From Daugherty, James. West of Boston: Yankee Rhymes and Doggerel. New York: Viking, 1956.

William Blake claimed that the old timers from away back used to drop in and pose for him, Cleopatra, Caesar, Pharaoh, and that old Bible prophets occasionally stopped in for dinner and an evening talk. . . I think I know what he meant. 

Through the years I have made a lot of illustrations of American themes and have come to know the faces of some of the principal actors of out history -- and what faces they are! You know them yourself: Franklin, Jefferson. . .These faces have at times seemed so real to me that I have felt that my old studio was haunted and that they had really come to sit for me as Blake said -- James Daugherty, Introduction, p. 7-8.

 

1961
From Calvert, Captain James N. A Promise to Our Country: I pledge allegiance . . . Illustrated by James Daugherty. New York, Toronto, London: Whittlesey House, 1961.

1962
From Shapiro, Irwin. Heroes in American Folklore. Illustrated by Donald McKay & James Daugherty. New York: Julian Messner Incorporated, 1962. 

A full review of the first story, "Joe Magarac and his U.S.A. Citizen Papers" is available at Kirkus. Also in her New York Times book review, Ellen Lewis Buell wrote, "The traditional yarns of mighty feats performed on the open hearth are bound together by the theme of Joe's yearning to be an American citizen, climaxed by his magnificent and efficient wrath when he hears a couple of Congressmen talking about the undesirability of foreigners. As vigorous as its hero, told in a gusty workers' colloquialism and perfectly illustrated by James Daugherty, this story, which won the Julia Ellsworth Ford Foundation award for 1947, will entertain...." (September 26, 1948).

I thought it was interesting (and sad) to see evidence of the same social discord we have today and think the story's stance against xenophobia must have made it stand out for its time. However, I feel a bit differently about the "gusty workers' colloquialism"; the hero's voice in particular read more like a parody of an old Tarzan movie.

I had the same feelings about language in "John Henry and the Double Jointed Steam Drill," the other story in the volume that Daugherty illustrated. Both stories were certainly well-intended; the very fact that an immigrant and an African American were placed in a volume of "American heroes" speaks to the desire of the book's creators to make them equal partners in the story of the nation. That said, the creators are still mired in their time. The dialects used, together with some of the pictures, detract significantly from the experience for today's audience. As a result, the story does not accomplish the celebration of other cultures that the creators intend -- and often has just the opposite effect.

 1964

From Walt Whitman's America: Selections & Drawings by James Daugherty. Cleveland & New York: The World Publishing Company, 1964.

Poetry was food and drink in the daily life of our home. The Library of Poetry and Song was a worn volume from which my father read aloud with such contagious delight that we looked forward to long winter evenings filled with the splendor of great poetry . . . There was none of Whitman's poetry in the Library of Poetry and Song, and I suppose my father disapproved of him for the same reason Emily Dickinson wrote, "I have not read Mr. Whitman but have been told he is disgraceful" -- James Daugherty, Introduction, p. 11.

Upon finally being introduced to Whitman by an American that he met in London, Daugherty writes, Was this really my America, this splendor of democracy, this new world of affirmation and fraternity and hope? We read and chanted and roared our favorite passages to out bewildered British comrades."

Leaves of Grass got under my skin and into my bones. For the first time I felt the meaning and power of that majestic word, "America," and through Whitman's eyes I dimly glimpsed the grandeur of its possibilities. I must return to my country at once and forever -- James Daugherty, Introduction, p. 13.

 

1967
From Henry David Thoreau: A Man for Our Time, Selections & Drawings by James Daugherty. New York: The Viking Press, 1967.

"In his book Drawings by American Artists, Norman Kent notes of Daugherty's composition that it is '. . . built up on an abstract basis of opposing linear movements that weave in and out, as well as laterally' and that it 'is the result of careful planning. A lifelong study of the baroque masters, particularly Michelangelo and El Greco, has provided the artist with a remarkable feeling for form in space" -- Janet Marqusee, "James Daugherty (1887-1974): American Modernist Works on Paper from the New Deal Era [1933-1939]" (p.6)

Young Thoreau found that if he lived frugally he could earn enough in a few weeks to live for a year, So he went to the woods and built a hut by Walden Pond on land that Emerson owned and permitted him to use rent free. . . He bragged about how little it cost him to live and when he told Emerson at the dinner table that he had lived on twenty-seven cents the previous week, Lidian, Emerson's wife, said, "But Henry, you forget that you dines with us three times.'

Nevertheless, Thoreau could always do many things well. He was at different times a carpenter, a gardener, a pencil maker, and a surveyor. He was also a scholar in ancient languages . . . a poet, a lecturer, a naturalist -- James Daugherty, Introduction

See also:

• Andy and the Lion, 1939 Caldecott Honor: Blending "Fact and Fancy"
• Gillespie and the Guards, 1957 Caldecott Honor: A Lasting Impression