Tag: Pat Oliphant

R.I.P., Pat Oliphant

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments
My collection of Pat Oliphant cartoons.

It’s been a real Monday for the folks Down Under.

First we got word that the fine actor Sam Neill had gone west. And following in short order was editorial cartoonist Pat Oliphant.

I never met Neill, born in Northern Ireland but raised in New Zealand, though I saw a ton of his films. The Aussie Oliphant I did meet, through the miracle of serendipity.

A brief chat with the pope.

Regulars here know the tale. It was 1978, and Your Humble Narrator was a reporter at what then was called the Gazette Telegraph in Bibleburg when Oliphant came to town for an exhibition of his cartoons and paintings at the Fine Arts Center.

I got to interview him over the phone for the paper, and then met him in person at the exhibition, where he was gent enough to hold still for an extremely unprofessional and extended Grilling by Ignoramus about how he did what he did so well. He was generous enough to provide a few tips of the trade without adding a kick up the hole by way of punctuation.

Oliphant was, simply, the best in the business. Imagine being a freshly minted priest from some dusty whistlestop having a chat with the pope. All these years later it reminds me of the time I saw Ned Overend at the Cactus Cup, chatting amiably with a father and son before finally excusing himself, saying he had to finish warming up for his race.

As Ned rolled away dad says to kid: “You know what just happened? We talked to God! And God talked to us!”

Pat Oliphant died on Monday in Santa Fe, according to his son, Grant Oliphant. He was 90. Peace to him, his family, friends, and many, many fans. And thanks, God, for talking to that dumbass kid. You know the one I mean.

One of my all-time favorite Oliphant cartoons, from his stint at The Denver Post. You can see more of his work here.

A quack in our armor

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments
Pat Oliphant has examined the Pentagon’s procurement practices over the years … 1982 being one of them.

The New York Times editorial board marches on with its “Overmatched” series. Today’s installment: “The Pentagon’s Gilded Fortress.”

An excerpt:

In 2011, the Army decided to get its soldiers new pistols. The odyssey that followed included a 350-page list of technical specifications, years of testing and a protracted battle on Capitol Hill between competing gun makers. The Pentagon won’t complete delivery until 2027 at the earliest. The Army could have raised an infantryman from birth to within two years of enlistment age in the time it will have taken to get him a new handgun.

Unsurprisingly, our elected representatives are part of the problem:

As the House and Senate work toward the country’s first trillion-dollar defense budget, over $52 billion is for things members of Congress added, unbidden, to the Pentagon’s wish list, according to the independent budget watchdog Taxpayers for Common Sense.

Jaysis. Planes that can’t fly. $13 billion sitting ducks. Millions for retrofitting Vietnam-era helicopters to carry and launch drones. For Ike’s fabled Military-Industrial Complex it’s like robbing the same bank, over and over and over again, because you have a guy on the inside. You don’t even need to bring that pistol you can’t seem to acquire for some mysterious reason.

A Monday mooning

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 26 Comments

A smattering of Oliphant from the Mad Dog library.

A few observations under the Wolf Moon:

• A Puck in the gob. The Albquerque Journal has a little piece on my favorite political cartoonist, Pat Oliphant, who spent 60 years pantsing the powerful before failing eyesight finally pushed him away from the drawing board. I met Oliphant in the Seventies, when the Fine Arts Center in Bibleburg hosted an exhibition of his work. He was very gracious to a dumbass hippie kid who claimed he was a cartoonist too, enduring a bit of grilling and even volunteering a few tips.

• Dave’s not here. Hal Walter’s dad, Dave, recently passed away. The two had had their differences over the years, as fathers and sons often do (see O’Grady, Harold and Patrick), but Hal took a moment to remember the good times with the man who introduced him to the great outdoors.

• And The Biggest Midget in the Room Award goes to. … The Gravel Cycling Hall of Fame. Every niche needs its shiny object, I guess. But if you can get to it via paved road it’s bullshit.

Ashes to ashes, dust to … eraser dust?

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments

Tom Toles has erased himself from The Washington Post.

Well, here’s a bummer: After 50 years, Pulitzer Prize winner Tom Toles has drawn what he says is his final cartoon.

Like Toles, I started out a half-century ago, as the cartoonist for my high-school newspaper. Then I scribbled for my college papers and a couple of undergrounds before getting sidetracked into reporting and editing for a series of dailies and one small group of Denver-area weeklies.

Oh, I still contributed the occasional cartoon to the newspapers whose misfortune it was to employ me in some other capacity. Wasn’t an editor alive who would turn down free anything Back in the Day®; probably still isn’t, especially if we’re talking whiskey. But the pay, such as it was, was for pounding out the column inches or chasing commas around the copy desk.

Even then the full-time editorial cartoonist was becoming an endangered species, and I was glad that I’d followed an early adviser’s recommendation that I have some sort of a backup plan just in case I didn’t become the next Pat Oliphant, or like Toles, replace Herblock.

It wasn’t until 1989 that I started cartooning regularly again — not for The Washington Post, but for VeloNews. Next came the “Shop Talk” strip for Bicycle Retailer and Industry News, in 1992.

I’ve drawn a metric shit-ton of cartoons since, but I don’t think I’ve come anywhere near 15,000 of the sonsabitches. After a job of work like that, Tom Toles deserves to get back to playing. He recently chatted with NPR about where he’s been and where he’s going.

Thanks to Kevin Drum at Mother Jones for the tip.