As a kid, I was a big fan of the Garfield comic strip. As I've gotten older, read more Garfield, and learned more about the creator of Garfield, Jim Davis, I became less and less enamored with the strip and now see it as generally very boring and repetitive. One of the recurring jokes in Garfield, and the one that recurs the most often, has to do with the fact that Garfield hates Mondays. This is an absurd idea because, as a cat, Garfield doesn't really have any concept of a weekend, or a work week, or any of that, so there's no reason for him to be so hateful of Mondays in particular. That's what makes it funny, I guess. Jim Davis took it a step further, however, and gave Garfield a reason to hate Mondays, as bad things continued to happen to him on that day and that day only. The worst day of all was, of course, Monday the 13th, it being inherently unlucky due to being a Monday, as well as having an unlucky number as the date. As a kid who grew up in the 90s, I figured this was a thing that Jim Davis came up with, and it was unique to Garfield.

This was untrue.

Big George, by Virgil Partch, which I've covered briefly before, was a single panel comic strip that began in 1960. The titular George was a family man who worked at a 9-5 office job, giving him ample reason to hate Mondays. For the first few years of the strip, Mondays never really came up, and most of the humor dealt with George and his family, or his neighbors, or his hobbies. In 1966 and 1967, however, Partch decided to try some new things with the strip. Some new characters were introduced, such as a hippy with long hair that covered most of his body, the family dog and family cat began to talk to each other and other animals though they had previously been mute, and Partch briefly experimented with breaking up the single panel dailies into a four panel format. None of these things really lasted that long, but one thing that did stick was George's newfound hatred of Mondays.

While some sources will tell you that Partch, during this and later periods, had George expressing his distaste for Mondays every week, that isn't necessarily true. The Monday gags were sprinkled throughout the various months, and there are long periods where the day of the week isn't mentioned at all. However, much like what Jim Davis would do with Garfield over a decade later, it wasn't just that George hated going into the office on Monday after the weekend. Horrible, unexpected things would happen to him on that day, such as someone driving their car into his house, or his roof leaking, or a sign falling on him, or a raincloud raining only on him, or a tree that he's trying to cut down not falling over even after it's fully detached from the stump, or getting shipwrecked on a desert island, or even an actual dragon appearing at his doorstep. While the captions would often mention what's going on as well as the fact that it's Monday, on multiple occasions the caption simply read "I hate Mondays!"

It's unfortunate that, while Garfield became famous for being anti-Monday, George had been hating Mondays for at least a decade prior to Garfield's first appearance. Garfield debuted in 1979, and George first stated that he detested Mondays as early as 1966. Big George is also a much funnier strip than Garfield (though that's all a matter of taste, I guess).

For more information:

Big George at Don Markstein's Toonopedia

Virgil Partch at Lambiek Comiclopedia

Here's one that surprised even me, and one which comes with a little bit of uncertainty that I hope to clear up.

I was, in fact, quite uncertain about this myself when I first started researching it. I have been aware for many years that there was a comic strip called Keeping Up With The Joneses, created by Arthur Momand, that first appeared sometime between 1913 and 1916. The strip revolved around the McGinis family, who were always trying to one-up their wealthy neighbors, the Joneses. The Jones family never appeared in the strip, of course. They were merely referred to by the McGinises constantly, usually in reference to how jealous they would be if they saw what one of the McGinises had purchased or done. According to Momand, this was inspired by his experiences after he moved to New York, and he and his wife's attempts to not be shown up by their wealthy neighbors. He realized how futile it was to do so, and wrote a comic strip to satirize this. The Jones name was, according to him, chosen due to how common it was and how much more interesting it sounded than "Smith." It was never meant to refer to any actual people named Jones.

This is not the story that some people believe. It's the story that they should believe, because it's true, but there are other stories that circulate regarding this phrase that are more convincing to people. I, unfortunately, have previously been one of those people.

The main problem is one of dating. As previously stated, the start date is disputed. Some sources say sometime around 1913, others say 1916. Allan Holtz, author of American Newspaper Comics: An Encyclopedic Reference Guide, and the most trustworthy source I've found, puts the start date at March 31, 1913. This is the date of the earliest published Keeping Up With The Joneses strip that he could find.

This is important, because if the strip started in 1916, there's no way it could be the origin of the phrase. The phrase appears in print outside of the comic strip as early as late 1913 and early 1914. A 1916 start date would suggest the strip had taken its name from the phrase, not the other way around. This discrepancy has caused people to try to find an alternate explanation, and there is one that has become popular. There was a wealthy family who lived in New York in the mid-19th century by the name of Jones, and who had a large mansion overlooking the Hudson river. The family were so wealthy, and keeping up with their wealth would have been so impossible, that people assume the phrase must have been referring to them. This would be a fine assumption to make, if the phrase had appeared in any 19th century publications, which it doesn't.

This was the assumption that I made, however, back when I believed the erroneous sources that gave the 1916 start date. Thankfully, I now know better, and have happily added this phrase to the list of phrases that originated in comic strips.

For more information:

Don Markstein's Toonopedia, about the strip (just don't trust that "First Appeared" date)

The Stripper's Guide, about Arthur Momand

Word Histories, about the phrase

While I've previously written about political cartoons coining political words, like Gerrymander and McCarthyism, it isn't the only kind of word that political cartoons have been known to originate. Oddly enough, not only have political cartoonists gone on to create children's toys, but in the case of the teddy bear, a cartoonist was the inspiration for a toy craze that continues to this day.

As we've seen with the Gerrymander, it seems that words coined in relation to politics have incredible staying power, especially when describing things that politicians continue to do. Associating an image with a word, as is done with political cartoons, also helps to cement it in people's minds. It also helps a great deal if the word refers to a particular well-known person. Such is the case with another political buzzword, McCarthyism.

While for some the word only brings to mind a particular time and place, it's still used by many today to describe certain undesirable political tactics. It generally refers to a political attack or character assassination of a political rival by means of wild, unsubstantiated claims about them. The man who lent his name to the word was Republican senator Joseph McCarthy of Wisconsin, who in the 1950s claimed to have an extensive list of people in the US government who were communist infiltrators. This led to large scale investigations of his claim, which never bore any fruit, and McCarthy never revealed any of the names he claimed were on his list. This ultimately led to his being officially condemned by a large majority of the Senate.

The man who coined the word, and who was one of McCarthy's most vocal critics, was political cartoonist Herbert Block, who generally signed his name "Herblock." The word first appeared in one of Block's cartoons as a label for a large bucket of tar sitting atop several smaller buckets, which the Republican elephant is being coerced into standing on. Block had been critical of McCarthy previously, and would continue to be so afterwards, but this was the only time that he would ever use the word, at least in a cartoon.

This is because, interestingly, Herblock himself never saw anything special about it. He downplayed the status of the cartoon and the word by saying there was "nothing particularly ingenious" about it, and that he "had no thought of creating a new term," but that there was simply no better word to describe what was going on. Still, the word quickly became popular and widely used to describe not only McCarthy but also those who supported him. McCarthy personally condemned Block for the cartoon, and even accused the State Department, the department that he insisted contained the highest number of Communist infiltrators, of paying Block, and called him a "man who is actively committed to oppose attempts to drive Communists out of government." It was true that Block created a pamphlet of cartoons for the State Department, but they were all anti-Communist, and neither he nor the Washington Post ever received compensation for it.

McCarthy and his supporters tried to take back the word, and used it to refer to those with a particular brand of patriotism. McCarthy even used it in the title of his autobiography. These days, however, it's mostly used in a negative sense, which may be another part of its staying power: people don't tend to forget a good insult.

For more information:

Herbert Block at Comiclopedia

McCarthyism at Tawdry Knickers

Herblock's History, biographical information on Block and images of many of his cartoons at the Library of Congress

Words continue to be widely used as long as they remain relevant and useful. Since redistricting solely for party advantage, also known as gerrymandering, is still quite the common practice, the word remains with us and will most likely remain for the forseeable future. The word is not as old as the practice it describes, but it does go all the way back to an 1812 newspaper illustration.

The story goes that members of the Democratic-Republican party in the Massechussetts legislature drafted a redistricting proposal which created a winding, snaking district map. Upon seeing this map, either at a dinner party or in the office of a newspaper editor, the creator of the illustration added a mouth, feet, wings, and a tail to it, creating a picture of a dragon-like monster. Someone remarked that it looked like a bit like a salamander, added Gerry's name in front of it, and the term "gerrymander" was born. The resulting illustration was printed in the Boston Gazette in late March, and was later widely distributed to other newspapers favoring the opposition party, the Federalists. It was even reprinted the next year in several Federalist papers, anticipating the upcoming election.

The "Gerry" part of the word refers to the then governor of Massechussetts, Elbridge Gerry, who probably didn't actually have much to do with the original proposal for redistricting. On the other hand, he did sign it, and he stood to gain from it, as he belonged to the party it favored, so the blame was placed squarely on his shoulders.

Interestingly, it's not clear who created the original drawing. Currently, it's fairly widely accepted that the artist was Elkanah Tisdale, an illustrator and engraver who was working in the area. Washington Allston and Gilbert Stewart have also been suggested, though the evidence for them is not as compelling as for Tisdale.

For more information:

The Gerrymander at the Massachussetts Historical Society

The Gerrymander Map at the Cornell University Library digital collection

The Gerrymander and Elbridge Gerry at Tawdry Knickers

Most of the things I've covered previously have been either from the early 20th century, or perhaps the very late 19th century. This time, I'd like to go back a bit further in order to discuss a fascinating man, and a fascinating newspaper, that had quite an effect on newspaper illustration at the time, and continued to have an effect for many years.

The newspaper was one in Indianapolis, called The Freeman, and was African-American owned and operated. It was first published in 1888 by Edward Cooper, and while there were several African-American papers in various cities at the time, The Freeman was the only one that was illustrated. That was its boast, at least, and that fact certainly helped its publicity and circulation.

The most prominent illustrator at The Freeman was Henry Jackson Lewis, who was born, according to the best records anyone has, sometime around 1837 in Water Valley, Mississippi, as a slave. Very little is known about his early life, apart from an accident as a child which left him blind in one eye. Around 1863 he gained his freedom, fought in the Civil War, and ended up in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, where he learned to draw. Early on in his art career, he sold drawings to publications such as Harper's Weekly and Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper. His work was noticed by mainstream white publications as well as black publications, and most interestingly, no matter where his work was published his name was actually attached to it. Edward Palmer, archeologist at the Smithsonian, was quite aware of his talent, and enlisted him to sketch Native American burial grounds in Arkansas, as well as to draw maps of several surrounding states. While in Arkansas, he also worked at the Arkansas Gazette in Little Rock, and sold several drawings to the national magazines Puck and Judge.

In 1889, he moved to Indianapolis to begin work for Edward Cooper's The Freeman, and became what many have called the first African-American political cartoonist. One reason for this appellation was his sharp rebuke of president Benjamin Harrison, as well as his artistic statements on race relations in general. Another reason, however, was how his artwork, as well as that of other Freeman artists, depicted African-Americans.

From the early days of newspaper cartoons all the way to nearly the middle of the 20th century, black people tended to be depicted in comic strips as distorted caricatures with uneducated dialects. Stereotypes in cartoons and comic strips obviously abounded, but even in "realistic" action and adventure comics, no favors were done to black characters. Only comics that appeared in black newspapers actually depicted them as real people with regular lives. In the 20th century, the expansive comics sections of black newspapers such as the Pittsburg Courier and the Chicago Defender were well known for doing this, but in 1889, it was only ever done in the pages of The Freeman.

While it seems a small thing, showing an African-American as a person, who was just as much of one as any white person, was a serious political statement. It was one that Lewis continued to strive to make throughout his career, even after it became threatened by Edward Cooper's reticence to let him continue. Cooper felt an increasing need to appeal to the masses in order to increase readership, and the statements in the Freeman became less and less bold over time. Still, Lewis continued to stay true to his convictions for as long as he could.

Lewis only worked at the Freeman for about two years before he died in 1891, but he produced nearly 200 cartoons and illustrations for them in that time. The Freeman itself continued until 1892 under Cooper, and lasted until 1926 under later publisher George Knox.

For more information:

Henry Jackson Lewis at Indiana Illustrators

Henry Jackson Lewis at the Encyclopedia of Arkansas History and Culture

Rough Henry Jackson Lewis timeline