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

Wee Gillis, 1939 Caldecott Honor: Scottish Story, Universal Theme

 

One of five Caldecott Honor books in 1939, Wee Gillis proves that you don't need a lot of words or color to have an impact. Robert Lawson's black-and-white illustrations help us connect with the characters and setting in Munro Leaf's simple story of a young Scottish boy who must choose between two very different ways of life. 

The Story of Wee Gillis:
Torn Between Two Worlds

First, let's get one thing clear, Wee Gillis is not actually our title character's name. It's "Alastair Roderic Craigellachie Dalhousie Donnybristle MacMac, but that's too long to say, so everybody just called him Wee Gillis." While we assume the "Wee" refers to his size, there is no explanation for how the relatives came up with Gillis. It's not important to the story, of course, but my curiosity got the better of me, so I Googled it and found two meanings: 1) young goat; and 2) servant of Jesus. Either one seems fitting, especially since (although it's never directly stated), Wee Gillis is an orphan.

Growing up without your parents is difficult enough, but that's not the source of Wee Gillis's conflict in the book. Instead, he finds himself caught between two worlds: 1) the Lowland life of his mother's relatives with their farms and cows; and 2) the Highland life of his father's relatives filled with stag hunts. He spends time with both sides of his family, learning their ways. In so doing, he becomes very strong, especially in his lungs because of the need to both shout for the cows through the mist and hold his breath for long periods to avoid scaring the stags. 

Despite the challenges of each setting, Wee Gillis has affection for both places and both sides of his family. The feeling is mutual, and when he comes of age, Wee Gillis must choose between the two. On the big day, his Uncle Andrew from the Lowlands and Uncle Angus from the Highlands take him halfway up the hill between the two clans. Each makes a case for join their side of the family. Wee Gillis is truly torn, hilariously setting the two grown men into a childlike fits, complete with foot-stomping and jumping. There argument is interrupted when a forlorn bagpiper stops for a rest. Distracted by the passerby, the men stop fighting and learn that the musician is in despair because he made a set of bagpipes that are too big for him. Both uncles fail to fill the bags with enough air to play them. Finally, Wee Gillis gets his chance, and as the picture below humorously shows, he is successful; notice the feet in the corner, showing one of the uncles who "fell of their rocks in surprise":

Such a talent needs to be used, so the man offers to teach Wee Gillis how to play, and this becomes his profession. For the rest of his life, Wee Gillis visits both the Highlands and the Lowlands, playing the biggest bagpipes on Earth -- and building his home halfway up the great hill, right between his two worlds.

Lawson's Art in Wee Gillis:
Where Setting and Characters Come to Life

Just as he did in the 1938 Caldecott Honor Four and Twenty Blackbirds, Lawson shows mastery of both the large and the small. His landscapes are sweeping and pull you in, making you feel a part of the countryside. In fact, it's so well executed that you oddly don't miss the color (at least I didn't, but then I also like black and white movies).

In addition to creating a sense of distance, Lawson also creates a sense of height. In many of the scenes set in the Highlands, Lawson effectively uses white space to make us feel that we are high up in the clouds with the characters:

As impressive as these images are, it's Lawson's attention to much smaller details that makes the story come to life. As in Four and Twenty Blackbirds, facial expressions are key, but even more so here. The collage below shows one of my favorite expressions that he gives Wee Gills, as he waits in hopeful anticipation to have a chance to play the oversized bag pipes. Just above him, though, are a few of the faces that dot the background of other scenes: an old man and little girl hearing the shouting match between Wee Gillis's Highland and Lowland family members, and children listening to him play the bagpipes at the end of the story. Shock and curiosity in the first two are and palpable as the enjoyment and mischief in the third.

Below are more examples of great faces in the story. Along the top row: 1) You can just feel the irritation of the Lowland relatives as they wait for Wee Gillis to return with the cows; 2) You can almost hear Wee Gillis wondering when the lecture will end, and 3) later we feel his anxiety over having to choose which set of relatives to live with permanently. 

Along the bottom row, we can see: 1) The calm, encouragement his Highland uncle exudes as he makes a case for Wee Gillis to come live with him; 2) The funny fury of the Lowland uncle as the debate continues (I think that's how we must look to children when we get angry...); and 3) The dejection of the bagpiper upon realizing that the instrument he made is too big.

My personal favorite face, appears below. It depicts one of the Lowland relatives as they mock the Highland way of life. To me, the expression on Wee Gillis perfectly captures how children look as they politely listen, somewhat amused by how the adults are acting but not really processing (or maybe not agreeing with) everything that they say. The real treasure here, though, is the relative. You can almost hear his think, Scottish-accented, "Get a load of them!"

Another important contribution that Lawson makes to the book is using his mastery of facial expressions to highlight the development of Wee Gillis's strong lungs. Mentioned only three times in the 46 or so pages before the bagpiper shows up in the story, it stands out thanks to Lawson's imagery, which is not only amusing but also very helpful for young readers (or older ones with a lot one their mind):

A final note on the artwork: Looking at the pictures above, I cannot help but notice the ribbons on Wee Gillis's hat blowing in the wind. Again, Lawson shows a superior ability to capture movement, which is also apparent in the example below, where we can sense Wee Gillis's awkward pre-teen gait, his fidgeting with his clothes, and the movement of the fabric in response to his actions and the wind.

It's a minor detail, but it's a collection of small visual moments like this one that animate the story and make the book a special experience.

Reflecting on Wee Gillis

I will be honest. When I started my Caldecott Collection, I was not expecting much from Wee Gillis. I will admit that when I saw cover at the library bookstore, its tartan pattern reminded me of my high school uniform and the portrait on the front cover seemed a bit sad and dreary. I only decided to read it out of a sense of obligation: A collector should know their collection.

I could not have been more wrong. Told with humor and sensitivity in both words and pictures, the story is meaningful for people of any age who have to decide between two paths. More than that, it reminds us to leave open the possibility of "Option C" -- and charting a new path that brings together the best of both worlds. 

Want to know more? Check out:

• Caldecott & Book Collector Notes for Wee Gillis

Four and Twenty Blackbirds, 1938 Caldecott Honor: A Slice of Past

 

Despite it's title, 1938's second Caldecott honor book Four and Twenty Blackbirds: Old Nursery Rhymes is not your typical Mother Goose. Collected by Helen Dean Fish, who also assembled the year's Caldecott winner Animals of the Bible, it contains lesser-known jingles that would have been "old" even to readers in 1937. Using only black and green tempera, Robert Lawson (who also illustrated 1939 honor book Wee Gillis and the 1941 winner They Were Strong and Good) created 13 memorable full-page illustrations and several smaller sketches to help resurrect these old rhymes for new audiences. The big question is whether their "pie" will satisfy today's tastes. The answer probably depends on who's at the table.

Author Helen Dean Fish on Making Four and Twenty Blackbirds

And so, with Robert Lawson's invaluable support I have put these blackbirds into a pie before they have flown away forever, with the hope that when the pie is opened they will sing both lustily and sweetly for American children -- Helen Dean Fish, "Foreword" to Four and Twenty Blackbirds: Old Nursery Rhymes

As the above quote suggests, the author/editor of Four and Twenty Blackbirds viewed the work as something more than just a children's book. In detailing her efforts to compile this collection of the non-Mother Goose rhymes and jingles that she loved as a child, Helen Dean Fish establishes herself as a one-woman Brother's Grimm.  

By seeking out old texts, mining "the memories of older people," and comparing "literally hundreds of variants" of certain songs or stories, Fish gave us a book of 24 rhymes (or "blackbirds") that "have possibly been loved as genuinely as the shorter and more familiar Mother Goose Melodies" but are "in danger of being soon forgotten and lost forever." Fish was so committed to this historic preservation that she included music for several of the songs on the last five pages of the book.

As a student of history and lover of literature, I have to say that I appreciate Fish's tremendous effort; the "Caldecott Collector" and blogger in me feels a bond with her over our similar missions. As a writer, I also have to admire her confidence when she makes statements like this one: "The value of these old songs and rhymes is not likely to be questioned, I think, by anyone who has seen children enjoy them." Even if I thought that about my work, I doubt that I would ever have the self-assurance to say it, much less to write it. 

You just don't see that type of conviction every day, and at least in terms of the preservation of U.S. oral history, it's warranted. The nursery rhymes in this book are probably obscure to most readers; when I purchased my first copy of the book several years ago, I was shocked that aside from "The Little Red Hen," I only knew the title entry (which, surprisingly, does not even have its own "chapter" in the book, instead just being tagged to the end of the Foreword). I was a little familiar with "Frog Went A-Courting," but only because the 1956 Caldecott winner by Feodor Rojankovsky (author, John Langstaff). The remaining titles -- including "The Old Gray Goose," "Old Mother Tabbyskins," and "Rufflecumtuffle" -- had me mystified. So, right away, it seemed, this was not the typical book of nursery rhymes, and I was excited to explore it.

Illustrator Robert Lawson Helps the Blackbirds Take Flight

Aside from the unique focus of the collection, the art, of course, is what makes this book stand out. Robert Lawson's green and black drawings are sometimes  bold and dramatic, sometimes delicate and whimsical, and sometimes all of these and more.  A perfect example of this is Lawson's illustration for "Little Dame Crump," about an old woman who uses a found penny to purchase a pig that is reluctant to follow her home:

Another great example of this is the illustration for "The Famous Battle of the Bumble-Bug and Bumble Bee," where Lawson plays with perspective to give these two pests heroic proportions:

Of course, while we might expect our two warriors to dominate the forefront, Lawson takes it a step further: Not only do the bugs outsize the tiny town in the background, but their size in comparison to the apple is as fanciful as their physical features are clearly delineated. 

Lawson's attention to detail extends beyond the natural world to the fantastic, as ween in his drawings for "Come Hither" and  "Rufflecumtuffle." The first of these shows a "good little boy" enjoying his horse, a reward that he received for learning his alphabet (after the house pets refused). There is s real sense of movement in the pose of the horse, and the feathers in the boy's cap seem to be blowing in the wind. The expression on his face, too, seems to be filled with awe; while literally this may be a reaction to the letters dancing around him, the picture seems to capture the idea that reading opens magical worlds.

Lawson creates another magical world for "Rufflecumtuffle," an elf who "longed to dance in the fairies' hall / For he knew he must outshine them all." The picture on the left shows a sketch of the title elf from the Table of Contents, while the picture on the right shows his three brothers heading over to the fairy hall intending to mock him:

As it happens, the faces of our studious "good little boy" and dancing elf are only two of the countless remarkable facial expressions that Lawson creates for both people and animals, giving both major and minor characters a palpable personality and adding interest to the text:

My favorite of these expressions is on "Little Ren Hen." The tale teaches the value of hard work: Goose, duck, dog, cat, mouse, rat all refuse to help our heroine plant, tend, and reap the wheat, wanting only to eat the result. In the end, they rightfully lose out to the industrious hen's chick's, makin g this a very traditional story with a strong, traditional moral. Our heroine should feel content and satisfied, if not a little proud.

However, taking a look at the two depictions of our title character, we don't get a sense that she is whistling while she works. In the picture on the left, she almost seems to be spitting the wheat out, while in the one on the right, you can feel the weight of the sack, which we can only imagine would not seem quite as heavy to Dog or Cat. The feature that really stands out, though, is her face. Here, Lawson uses a natural feather pattern to accentuate her sharp eyes, and we can feel her frustration:

These depictions of the Little Red Hen are also two great examples of how some of the smaller art scattered throughout the book adds to the experience of the text. One of my favorite examples of this is the sketch of the idyllic little town that opens the "Merry Green Fields of England": 

Reflections on Four and Twenty Blackbirds

Not all of the pictures are as bucolic ad the last picture. Like other nursery rhymes and fairy tales of old, many of the rhymes and stories featured in this book deal with some dark themes. Two, in particular, center on death and the illustrations do nothing to hide this fact:

Perhaps the "feet in the air" poses of the two animals were meant to be humorous and lighten the mood of the accompanying text. In "The Old Gray Goose," death is discussed rather cavalierly: Upon finding the dead goose, the singer simply plans to bury the animal in the morning and only somewhat laments the lack of goose eggs to eat in the future. By contrast, "Jim Findley's Pig" is much darker. After finding the pig dead in its sty, Finley's wife is so grief-stricken that she dies. All of this death pushes Finley to suicide: "The old man he died soon arter /He hung himself with his garter."

Darkness also pervades some of the cautionary tales. In "The Robber Kitten," the title character defiantly leaves his mother to "go and be a robber fierce/ And live in a dreary wood!" He immediately meets a rooster "And blew its head, with a pistol, off." Although the kitten eventually returns home after getting beaten by an older cat and a dog -- and seeing just how "bad" bad can be -- the "lesson" seems more rooted in a desire for self-preservation than an understanding of right and wrong. Lawson's artwork only underscores this darkness, as he chooses to illustrate the wayward kitten, not the enlightened one. His drawing for the tale is reminiscent of old cartoons and, as such may make them chuckle; however, for others it may seem a bit too graphic:

I have laughed quite a bit at the violence in old cartoons like Tom and Jerry or Coyote and Road Runner. However, while those characters have a million lives, the death here was real. This fact and other events in the story, including the kitten going on a drinking binge with the dog, made me take the tale perhaps too seriously. 

"The Tragic Tale of Hooty the Owl" likely also was intended to inspire some  smiles and giggles, but also left me unsettled. Here, an owl sends a local hunter in the direction of the fox who ate his son. When the fox dies after putting up an extended fight, the owl laughs at his fate: "And the owl looked down from the branch overhead/ Where the lifeless, tailless fox lay dead, / And laughed aloud as away he flew, / 'Too-whit, too-whit, too-whit, too-whoo!" While I wanted to see the fox get his comeuppance for eating the owlet, laughing over a corpse seemed a bit too macabre.

Of course, maybe my reaction is more a critique of modern society. Taking risks, like running away from home, can lead to real danger. Vengeance can transform a victim into a villain. Violence is, after all, violent. No one would argue these points, and yet we shield children from these truths by creating cartoons and action movies with characters that often survive impossible circumstances -- or by sanitizing these ideas to a point where they barely resemble the lessons that they are meant to show. 

Who is doing more harm? It's an interesting question to ponder as we think about rising numbers of children's mental health issues in today's world and wonder if that's due to our actions, changes in our social fabric, or simply greater awareness of problems that always existed.

If the violence in some of these rhymes doesn't goes too far for you, some of the male chauvinism might. Given the fact that this book was written in 1938 and attempted to preserve an oral tradition dating back even further, I expected rhymes such as "Joe Dobson." In this jingle, a man brags he can outdo his wife with the house chores. She takes him up on the challenge, but he is overwhelmed by her everyday tasks and thwarted by the farm animals: "Joe suddenly confessed/He was convinced that wives could do/ The household business best." Honestly, aside from the last three lines, it's a rather funny rhyme and easily seems the stuff any sitcom in which people trade roles.

The same cannot be said for "Mr. Bourne and His Wife." In the rhyme, the title characters get into a fight over bread, toast, and butter. Their neighbor "overhear[s] the splutter" and attacks Mr. Bourne, saying, "'By my life, / You shall not beat your wife! / It is both a sin and a disgrace!'" In return, Mrs. Bourne attacks him and sends him running. The listener is cautioned not to poke "his snout in" if  "married folks are flouting." My guess (hope?) is that the scenario is a humorous dramatization of more nuanced disagreements and interference --  and thankfully Lawson's illustration (below) supports this interpretation. However, given the language, it really just seems to advise looking the other way in cases of spousal abuse.

While I truly believe that it is important to read older works in the time period of their era and not be overly critical of them in light of modern standards and tastes, I do think that I would have great difficulty reading or singing many of these rhymes to a child -- particularly one at a "nursery rhyme age." Just as I cannot change the time period in which these rhymes developed and were recorded, I also cannot change the time period in which I grew up and now live. 

Still, I am glad that someone took the time to preserve these rhymes. Not only does it give us a sense of what life was like "back then," but it also gives us a new lens through which we can view our own cultural perspective. The book also proved a wonderful vehicle to experience the art of one of the great children's illustrators, Robert Lawson, who does more in two colors than many can accomplish with a full palette. 

Thus, as the book's creator, Helen Dean Fish predicted, I am "not likely" to question "the value of these old songs and rhymes." However, for me at least, times have changed too much for children to "sing both lustily and sweetly" many of the songs in this book. Whether this legacy would be enough for Fish is a question that must remain unanswered.