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.
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.
