Pogo says it for the very first time

Ah, Roger your choice of cartoons always makes this grateful octogenarian smile! Of course, Pogo was one of my favorites. I quote his immortal line often. Thank you.

Pogo was certainly one of the all-time greats, thanks Roger. However, as one from the "Peanuts is the bestest with the mostest and always will be" camp, I can't help but mention you misspelled "Schulz." Which is just the sort of unintended slight that would fuel the neurotic genius of the aforementioned Sparky.

I always loved Walt Kelly... He's the reason I became an artist. Though I left my ambitions of newspaper cartooning behind with my childhood, I learned to draw by copying from the many collections of his work that my mother kept around the house.

I always thought, though I can't prove it, that the line above was first used in the 1950s in reference to McCarthyism, which was a special target of Walt's. The cartoon here was from the 1970s, I think - I seem to remember reading it in the paper!

I go Pogo!

"Don't take life so serious — it ain't NOhow permanent." (paraphrased from memory, no doubt)

It could be argued that to do much with little takes as great a talent as to do prodigies with lots.

But I am content, Kelly and Schulz are peers and if one must measure each against the other the ruler will have to be flexible to reach such heights.

I once said that if I could touch half as many people, half as long, half as often and half as deeply as Charles Schulz, I would consider myself to be both blessed and wildly successful.

And if the subject of the above were Walt Kelly, I would have to say, "Ditto."

My motto is Porkypine's "Don't take life so serious, son. It ain't nohow permanent."

I wanted to disagree with you on your thoughts about Peanuts, but I shouldn't because I haven't read much of Pogo. Here's the wonderful Bill Watterson about his influences:

INFLUENCES

Three comic strips have been tremendously inspirational to me: Peanuts by Charles Schultz, Pogo by Walt Kelly, and Krazy Kat by George Herriman. These strips have very different sensibilities, but they've helped me discover what a comic strip can do.

Peanuts books were among the first things I ever read, and once I saw them, I knew I wanted to be a cartoonist. I instantly related to the flat, spare drawings, the honesty of the children's insecurities, and to Snoopy's bizarre and separate world. At the time, I didn't appreciate how innovative all that was--I just knew it had a kind of humor and truth that other strips lacked. Now when I reread the old books, I'm amazed what a melancholy comic strip it was in the '60s. Surely no other strip presented a world so relentlessly cruel and heartless. Charlie Brown's self-torture in the face of constant failure is funny in a bitter, hopelessly sad way. I think the most important thing I learned from Peanuts is that a comic strip can have an emotional edge to it and that it can talk about the big issues of life in a sensitive and perceptive way.

Pogo, in some ways, is the opposite of Peanuts. Whereas Peanuts is a visually spare strip about private insecurities, Pogo was a lushly drawn strip, full of bombast and physical commotion. The strip's dialogue was a stew of dialect, pun, and nonsense, and word balloons were often filled with gothic type of circus poster letters to suggest the character's personality and voice. With the possible exception of Porkypine, there was not a soul-searching character in a cast o dozens. The drawings were beautifully animated and the stories wandered down back roads, got lost, and forgot their destinations. Kelly's animals satirized the day's politics, back when comics were expected to avoid controversy altogether. Beneath the chaos and bluster though, the strip had a basic faith in human decency and an optimism for bumbling through. Pogo had a pace and an atmosphere that will probably never be seen again. The strip is a wonderful lesson in what a lively, rich world the comics can present.

It is Krazy Kat, however, that fills me with the most awe today. Krazy Kat is more poetic than funny, with a charm that's impossible to describe. Everything about the strip is idiosyncratic and peculiar--the wonderful, scratchy drawings, the bold design and color of the Sunday strips, the kooky, austere Arizona landscapes, and the bizarre conglomeration of Spanish, slang, literary allusion, dialect, and mispronunciation that makes up the dialogue. The circular plot, such as it is, can be interpreted (and over-interpreted) as an allegory about good and evil, love and hate, society and individual...or it can simply be enjoyed for its lunatic machinery. For me, the magic of the strip is not so much in what it says, but how it says it. In its singular, uncompromised vision, its subtle whimsy and its odd beauty, Krazy Kat, stands alone.

Other cartoonists and artists have inspired me as well, but these three strips shaped my idea of what a comic strip could be. All the strips work on several levels, and entertaining while they deal with bigger issues of life. Most important, these strips reflect uniquely personal views of the world. They argue that comics can be vehicles for beautiful artwork and serious, intelligent expression. They set the example I wanted to follow.

The challenge of any cartoonist is not just to duplicate the achievements of the past, bu to build on them as well. Comic strips have a short history, but their traditions are important. Cartoonists learn about cartooning by reading cartoons. Unfortunately, the history of comics is not very accessible. [This writing was published in 1995] Peanuts and Pogo collections are often difficult to find and are increasingly expensive. Krazy Kat still has not been adequately published in book form. It has only been in the last few years that I've seen any extended runs of the true classics of the medium. Early strips are amazing--some are far more inventive than today's--but they can't educate future cartoonists if they're not collected and republished. Sometimes i wonder what strips would be like if every generation didn't have to reinvent the wheel.

-- The Calvin and Hobbes Tenth Anniversary Book by Bill Watterson

Pogo was/is wonderful, but don't forget Krazy Kat (by George Herriman) with Ignatz, Offissa Pup, and a few others. Pogo, Krazy, Charlie - truly great stuff, probably never to be equaled again.

I think it behooves us (a phrase that for some reason reminds me of Kelly!) to remember that Pogo's immortal comment was in itself a "parody" on Commander Perry's message from 1813 about a military victory: "We have met the enemy, and they are ours." (I've left out the remainder of the message.)

It's ironic that Kelly's version has clearly become more well-known than the original, but that befits one of the all-time great, not just comic strip, but literary achievements in American history.

I was born in 1960's. I read Pogo books.

Walt Kelly books were read to death in my house when I was a kid. I seemed to get more out of it every time, so that sparked a lifetime habit of rereading favorite authors. Seldom has a cartoonist been so quoted, outside of the Op Ed page. Kelly is one of the very few things I collect. I have a couple of reprints, but a total of 30 Kelly books, all the rest are originals, and treasured. My oldest is dated 1954, and is about the Jack Acid Society, Kelly's crushing take on the McCarthy times. I cried when he passed away in 1973, and felt I lost a personal friend, even though he got pretty bitter in his last few years.

My Dad is a tremendous Pogo fan, and we all grew up reading it-I didn't get all of the political nuances as a child, but loved it anyway. Dad's copy of the Complete Pogo is well worn, and I'm amazed when I go back and read them, with a better understanding of the political satire. After all who can forget, "Bark us all, BowWows of Folly...". Although our family's favorite line was Grundoon's "I carry the hose"-I've never met a small person who wasn't obsessed with hoses and water!

Our Biology teacher in 10th grade, Brother Neal, read the strip to us each day and would lead a class discussion.

I had the pleasure of seeing Walt Kelly speak at Chatham College in the 70s. Kelly drew pictures of several characters, one of which, Howland Owl, came into my possession.

Months later, much to my chagrin, it disappeared. Nothing beats Pogo.