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

Gillespie and the Guards, 1957 Caldecott Honor: A Lasting Impression

 

A runner-up/honoree for the 1957 Caldecott, Gillespie and the Guards is a book of seconds. It is the second Caldecott Honor for illustrator James Daugherty, eight years after Andy and the Lion. It is also the artist's second partnership with writer Benjamin Elkin, two years after The Loudest Noise in the World. It's an enjoyable story about Gillespie, a little boy who decides to take on a king's challenge to trick his Royal Guard, led by three brothers with superhuman eyesight. His plot works, due as much to the guards' arrogance as to Gillespie's ingenuity. Although the artwork is likely not to everybody's taste, it makes an impression while often adding a sense of humor, movement, and scale to the story. 

Gillespie and the Guards: Just Good Fun

Anyone familiar with James Daugherty's work as an artist and illustrator knows that he reveled in tackling weighty subjects. In fact, the majority of his books are biographies or profiles of American historical figures as well as key events from the settling of America to his present day. When Daugherty did take what must have been a well-needed break from such serious topics, he seems to have gone all out. Andy and the Lion was a whimsical twist of a classic fable that barely maintained its grip on reality, while both of his partnerships with Elkin are unabashed fantasy.

The story is very straightforward: Three brothers, each with a different version of penetrating eyesight and x-ray vision, are invited by the king to join his Royal Guards. The king is so impressed with them and confident in their ability that he offers a diamond-studded gold medal to anyone who can trick them. Hope of treasure draws people from all over the kingdom to fool them by trying to enter the palace in costume, the most ridiculous of which is a woman dressed "as a huge stick of peppermint candy" who "looked so real that two children tried to lick her" (p. 17). Thank goodness for the written description; otherwise who knows what we would make of the picture:

As the king predicted, nobody gets past his three glorious guards -- a fact that goes to their head. The once friendly threesome becomes haughty, annoying everyone but especially the prince's friend Gillespie. 

Gillespie decides to bring the guards down a peg by showing them "that no one is so great that he can't be fooled once in a while." He proceeds to leave the palace each day hauling out various worthless things (like leaves and sand) out of the palace. The guards mock him for his efforts to trick them and dutifully record all of the garbage that he is removing. At the end of the story, Gillespie claims victory, showing the king, the guards, and the whole court the dozens of red wagons that he stole from the palace. Impressed, everyone celebrates his win, especially the guards who not longer have to be "so serious and proud" -- a feeling of joy and relief that Daugherty captures in his depiction of their wild wagon ride.

Daugherty's Unreal Effects in Gillespie and the Guards

In addition to joy, the wagon ride picture above also gives a sense of movement, similar to Andy and the Lion: The characters almost feel as if they are going to fly off the page. We see this often in Gillespie and the Guards as well; most notably in the final scene where the king, Gillespie, his dog, and the three guards do a high-kneed march seemingly in mid-air -- in a move that would make a Rockette jealous:

There is also humor in these pictures. In the wagon ride, for example, not only does one guard almost spin into a flip as his wagon bounds down the hill, but Daugherty also chooses to freeze frame the event with the guard's butt facing out. This detail, combined with the other guards comically standing on tiny wagons that would never support their weight and the positioning of Gillespie and his dog almost hovering over their wagon, make the scene completely hyperbolic. In the final scene, above, the king almost looks as if he is going to crash right down on an oblivious Gillespie and his wagon.

As exaggerated as these actions may be, they are not the only thing that makes the pictures fantastic. The characters themselves do not seem at all real. The king's and Gillespie's features seem chunky and distorted. The guards here and throughout the book are strangely proportioned, and often their faces are little more than squinting eyes and moustaches. In fact, many of Daugherty's facial depictions in this book have bizarrely exaggerated features, more akin to cartoons:

Perhaps that was exactly the intended effect: to give this outlandish story more of a cartoon feel. Certainly several of the spreads and poses in the book reinforce this purpose, such as this spread depicting a guard inspecting Gillespie's wagon full of sand. With Gillespie and his dog mimicking the guard's yoga pose as he bends down and peers between his legs to see under the wagon, the scene is pure slapstick:

However, while the humor works in pictures such as this sand hauling scene, above, the distortions in other pictures can make what should be humorous disturbing to some -- as in the child trying to lick the lady dressed as a peppermint stick, seen below again. No matter how much I may know that this picture is intended to be funny, there is a grotesqueness to it that makes me turn away every time I see it; normally I might not mention such a subjective point, but based on the online discussions that I have read about this book, I am not alone:

Daugherty's artistic approach in Gillespie is more consistently successful in its ability to convey a sense of scale. The characters in this tale are meant to be larger than life, and that point is made throughout the book. In fact, often the book seems too small for them. Note this effect in the royal procession where the people in the parade fill the page and almost seem to squash the text:

Another scene where the effect is particularly noticeable -- and thematically important -- is when the guards become too proud of their own success. Again, the page can barely hold them, reflecting how large their egos have become. Also, however, the large size of the picture draws added attention to the faces of both the guards and the horses, all of which look ridiculous. It is an apt commentary on what pride does to a person, making them feel bigger and more important than they should be while actually making them look absurd to observers.

Reflecting on Gillespie and the Guards

Gillespie and the Guards is an example of what I call a "forgotten Caldecott." Long out of print, there are few copies of it available. As of this writing, I found two copies on both Amazon and AbeBooks, and three on Biblio. My municipal library system did not have any copies of it throughout its network of almost 20 branches. 

When I finally locate a forgotten title, I always try to figure out why publishers neglected to keep the book alive. Sometimes, I just blame time and changing tastes: No matter how much I may love the book, I can see why it feels dated and why a publisher would choose to let it go despite being honored. Other times, I am clueless and just blame oversight or failed marketing.

In the case of Gillespie and the Guards, there are so few copies around that I have to wonder if audiences at the time shared the issues I have with the artwork -- and that no matter how well received the book may have been by critics and experts (and I am assuming that it was since it received the honor), people even during the 1950s had a difficult time with it. For me, I see a definite connection between the art and the story, and I appreciate what I think the pictures are trying to do. 

What I cannot do, though, is enjoy the artwork. Everything about the book -- from the story to the composition of the pictures -- suggests that this should be a fun story with little more to weigh it down. Perhaps it is exactly that for some people with much different tastes. However, for me the distortions, odd proportions, and dark black-and-brown/red lithography are just too distracting and often too unpleasant to look at for long. As a result, no matter how much I may realize that I am supposed to laugh or feel joy, I just don't quite get there. 

Nevertheless, this probably says more about my lack of sophistication than Daugherty's illustrations. At the end of the day, Daugherty was too talented of an artist not to have considered my reaction, and he certainly could have made this book look any way that he wanted. I have seen too much of his other artwork to doubt that he could have provided a brighter palette, smoother figures, or more natural expressions. Understanding that his setting was a mythical place where x-ray vision existed alongside feudal kings and where kids were wiser than their elders, he clearly set out to create an other-worldly world that reflected these oddities. Thus, the pictures and people are distorted because the world in which they exist is distorted; red, the color of royalty, is not bright and regal but so earthy that it becomes brown. To put it simply, things here are just different. With this in mind, I have to applaud Daugherty for the risks he took and the impression that he made: I will certainly never forget this book.

See also:

• James Daugherty Caldecott Honoree: An American Artist of His Time
• Andy and the Lion, 1939 Caldecott Honor: Blending "Fact and Fancy"
• Gillespie and the Guards, 1957 Honor: Caldecott & Book Collector Notes