N.C. Wyeth Defined Advertising Art

 

Foreword:  Fascinated by the design and images of American advertising, I previously have featured on this website a number of well-known artists and illustrators who have made notable contributions to the genre.  They have included Thomas Hart Benton, Norman Rockwell, Theodore “Dr. Seuss” Geisal, and Ludwig Bemelmans. This post is devoted to the acknowledged dean of American illustrators whose career spanned almost half a century, N.C. Wyeth.

One of the most successful illustrators of all time, Newell Convers Wyeth, shown here,  was born in Needham, Massachusetts in 1882.  Wyeth showed an early passion for drawing and was encouraged by his family.  Beside credited with more than 4,000 illustrations, N.C. Wyeth is famous for being the father of artist Andrew Wyeth and the grandfather of artist Jamie Wyeth— among the  most famous families in the history of American art.

N.C. Wyeth’s first illustration, published when he was 21, ran in the Saturday Evening Post in 1903.  Soon after he became in demand to do advertising art.  Here I have displayed a dozen of the artist’s commercial illustrations, roughly from his early career to his final days.  The 1906 ad for Cream of Wheat hot breakfast cereal demonstrates that the young man had a lively sense of humor.  My reading is that this grizzled old rancher has made his Cream of Wheat case into his mail box.  Although born an Easterner Wyeth early made rugged Western themes central to his artistic efforts.

In 1909 he did another ad “going postal,” this time entitled “Alaskan Mail Carrier” and advertising Champion Harvesting Machines.  They were the product of a farm machinery company located in Springfield, Ohio.  What message Wyeth was attempting to convey escapes me.  A tough looking postman has dropped his mail pouch on the ground while he has shot down no fewer than eight wolves that apparently were intent on making dinner out of him.  Perhaps the Alaskan was “harvesting.”

Guns were a familiar object in Wyeth illustrations.  In a period encompassing at least 1909-1911, he did a series of ads for the Winchester repeating arms company of New Haven Connecticut.  Among them were the relatively benign illustration of a hunter with two dogs hunting in a corn field.  The target likely was pheasants.  The quarry in a second Wyeth effort for Remington is distinctly more dangerous as a duo of hunters bang away at a bear.

During the following decade the age of the automobile came to full bloom with car companies springing up all over the landscape.  Among them was the Overland Motor Company, originally located in Indianapolis, Indiana.  Wyeth gave  the automaker a view of their #1075 Runabout in a Wild West setting, showing riders on horseback enthusiastically welcoming the Overland to the “lone prairie.”  Lest we lose the meaning, in the upper left he shows ox-drawn wagons and labels the central image, “The West of Today.”

The Pierce-Arrow Motor Car Company was an American motor vehicle manufacturer based in Buffalo, New York, that was active from 1901 to 1938.  Pierce-Arrow was best known for its expensive luxury cars, some of which were still running in my childhood.  The picture is of a blacksmith with space in the upper right for the sales pitch.  Another automobile-related picture was done in 1917 for the Fisk Tire Company,  headquartered in Chicopee Falls, Massachusetts.  It shows workers bringing balls of rubber to a ship docked in some tropical port, perhaps in the Caribbean.   Although an attractive picture, it romanticizes the often harsh realities faced by rubber workers. 

 

That lack of sensitivity is also is evident in this 1935 ad for Paul Jones Whiskey.  Jones and his successors, strong believers in the Confederate cause, in the 1930s shaped company advertising around a pre-bellum gentility that was largely a myth.  Here the Colonel is commanding his obviously enthralled black servant:  “Toby, fetch…”  A similar whitewashing of history occurred in a series of ads Wyeth did for Philip Morris on the theme “Nature in the Raw is seldom MILD.”   At left below is a heroic depiction of General George Armstrong Custer firing away at the surrounding Indians, far from the modern day view of the reckless commander.  At right, two menacing Indians look down on a group of (unseen) pioneers below them.  The text suggests Wyeth was“inspired by the fierce cruelty of the savages….”

Wyeth seems to have found other, more benign, sources of inspiration as he gave a definite Norman Rockwell look to a circa 1936 ad from Coca Cola A frequent illustrator for the soft drink manufacturer, he shows a straw-hatted boy with a pole and his dog headed off to the “old fishin’ hole.”  The lad has two bottles of Coke in his hand.  While the theme is redolent of Rockwell, the clouds that are the backdrop for the image are patently Wyeth.

The final illustration below is similarly benign.  Done for the Home Insurance Company near the end of Wyeth’s career in 1940, it depicts Daniel Boone with his family and others crossing the Appalachian Mountains to reach their new home in Kentucky.  Although Boone and others in the party are carrying rifles, a tone of tranquility is set by the woman riding a horse and tending to a baby. 

Killed in a train-car accident in 1944, Wyeth left a lasting mark on American advertising but that accomplisment is perhaps is less well recognized than his contribution to book illustration.  The artist’s ability vividly to present to his audiences images ranging from the violent to the romantic and bucolic, all done with equal skill, mark him as a master.

Note:  The information about N.C. Wyeth was gleaned from multiple Internet sources, as were the illustrations of his work in advertising. 

High Jinks at the UN General Assembly

In the Fall of 1973 I moved to New York City for the General Assembly Session of the United Nations (UNGA) as part of the U.S. delegation.  As an assistant to two congressional delegates. I had an office in a nearby building, a secretary, and a mandate to keep the House members happy.  From the beginning things went badly.  

Henry Kissinger had just been named U.S. Secretary of State,  having successfully undermined the incumbent, William Rogers,  with President Nixon.  Kissinger was anxious to be part of the U.S. delegation at the opening ceremonies of the General Assembly.   Since his confirmation was still pending in the Senate,  his status was still unofficial and as a result he was assigned to the periphery of the U.S. retinue.  

Henry ended up seated next to one of the congressmen, the Honorable Robert Nix of Pennsylvania,  an elderly African-American gentleman and longtime member of the House of Representatives and chairman of the Subcommittee on Africa.   The United States delegation was seated alphabetically right next to the folks from Upper Volta and their sign was not far from Nix’s elbow. Kissinger leaned over to Nix as the Assembly was coming to order and inquired in a friendly fashion:  “How are things going in your country?”

Highly insulted and disdaining to explain,  Nix walked out and could not be found later for the delegation photograph or to accept Henry’s apology.   Although an official member of the delegation, I had not been invited to the opening session and was in my office when the frantic calls came in from the State Department.   When I stopped laughing,  I began to look for Nix and finally found Nix at the fancy Beekman Towers apartment the US/UN Embassy had rented for him.  

“Tell ‘em to go to hell,”  he growled.   Although he continued to occupy the Beekman and take the New York per diem,  Nix never showed at another UN meeting or social function for the entire four months.

The plus side of Nix’s absence was his willingness to let me program his $800 representation allowance.   Bradford Morse, a former Massachusetts congressman who now headed the United Nations Development Program,  proposed that the U.S. congressional contingent host an event for all the parliamentarians in the various delegations.  John Buchanan, the other House member,  was willing so we arranged a catered lunch in one of the UN Headquarters dining rooms.

At issue was alcohol.  Buchanan was a Baptist minister and at least theoretically a teetotaler.    After I pointed out that a glass of wine was appropriate -- for toasts and the like at international gatherings -- he agreed but seemed reluctant.

The response to our invitation was huge.   It seemed that virtually every country in the world had 1) one or more parliamentarian delegate,  2) delegates who once had been parliamentarians, or 3)  perhaps my imagination -- people who would like to be thought of as parliamentarians and thereby nab a free lunch.

The banquet table seemed to stretch the length of the building.  “It will take a while to prepare meals for this many.  There will be a short delay until we can serve,”  the maitre d' whispered to me.  “May we offer some mixed drinks before lunch?”

I went to Buchanan with the problem, and he promptly tossed the decision back to me.  “Serve ‘em up,”  I told the maitre d'.  The short delay turned into over hour -- a period during which the alcohol flowed like water, with notable effects on our guests.  During the meal a Dutch delegate -- a stocky gentleman with one arm -- rose majestically and roared,”I propose a toast.”  Everyone raised a glass and a long silence ensued.  “I drunk,” the Dutchman concluded.  “I sit down.” 

Shortly after that an African gentleman from Niger, who was elegantly dressed in an embroidered gown and wearing a tall conical hat, slid out of his seat and under the table.   As I left, clutching a bill that was more than double the estimate,  Brad Morse,  our guest of honor,  was waltzing enthusiastically with a gray-haired waitress.

Lest it be thought that the United Nations is solely a party animal, serious things were happening there as well.   The 1973 October War broke out in the Middle East during the session and the UN Security Council began to meet early and late to obtain a ceasefire.  The crisis occurred during a high boiling point in the Sino-Soviet rift.  

While these events of some magnitude swirled around me, my role was minimal.   Although I was accredited to the United States delegation and bore all necessary credentials,  State Department officers apparently were frightened that I might someday be embolden to speak during one of the committee session I regularly attended.   On one occasion when I momentarily was left alone as the sole American representative at a meeting, the Embassy dispatched a 23-year-old secretary  to replace me in the American chair.

In the final analysis, I found the United Nations -- essential as it is -- too much talk and too little action.   By comparison, the UN made the Congress of the United States look like a dynamo of action.  When the General Assembly session ended,  I returned to Capitol Hill with not a little relief.