“Europe’s Big Question” (January 7,1939)
by Milton Rawson Halladay (1874-1961)
15.5 x 18 in., ink on board
Coppola Collection

Halladay was a native of Vermont and a noted political cartoonist for the Providence Journal (Rhode Island) for nearly fifty years (1900-1947). His cartoons were published in countless other newspapers and magazines. He has been called “one of the deans of American political cartooning.” His cartoon commemorating the death of Thomas A. Edison was a runner-up for the Pulitzer Prize.

Although World War II “officially” began in September 1939, with the invasion of Poland, following the annexation of Austria and Czechoslovakia the previous year, another early shot in the upcoming was Danzig.

Danzig was an ethnically German city located northwest of Warsaw on the Baltic Sea coast that had been part of Germany from the early 1800’s until the end of World War I. Hitler’s interest in Danzig was long-standing, arguably central to the Nazi ideology, which called for the unification of all German people.

Danzig had been stripped from German control after World War I and established as the Free City of Danzig by the League of Nations. Germany had also lost portions of Posen and West Prussia to Poland. In the post WW2 maps, Danzig and the so-called Polish Corridor ensured Poland’s access to the Baltic Sea, but they also separated East Prussia from the rest of Germany. This outraged many Germans, particularly Hitler, who saw this concession as temporary. Throughout the 1930s, Hitler called for Danzig to be reunited with Germany.

In the classic treatise “Rise and Fall of the Third Reich,” the division of Prussia was “to Germans, the most heinous crime of the Versailles peacemakers.”

On January 6, 1939, German Chancellor Hitler told Polish Foreign Minister Josef Beck, “Danzig was German, would always remain German, and sooner or later would return to Germany.” A disingenuous proposal was made to crisscross the “Polish land corridor” with new rail lines and highways, connecting Germany with East Prussia and providing a pathway to de facto control. The proposal was declined.

“Get to Work, Uncle!” (September 26, 1938)
by Milton Rawson Halladay (1874-1961)
15 x 16 in., ink on board
Coppola Collection

Halladay was a native of Vermont and a noted political cartoonist for the Providence Journal (Rhode Island) for nearly fifty years (1900-1947). His cartoons were published in countless other newspapers and magazines. He has been called “one of the deans of American political cartooning.” His cartoon commemorating the death of Thomas A. Edison was a runner-up for the Pulitzer Prize.

The ramifications from WW1 echoed though Europe for years. Mussolini marched on Rome in 1922, and by 1925 declared himself leader for life. He was a “darling” of the American press for many years, and the new experiment in Fascism was seen as having saved Italy from radical leftists and for revitalizing the economy.

Mussolini normalized the initial press reception of Hitler, who was often called “Germany’s Mussolini.” Hitler was seen as something of a joke, a volatile and insecure man who was worshipping the Italian strongman. Hitler became Chancellor in 1933, and by 1935, the mistake in underestimating him was recognized, but the isolationist US, deep in the Great Depression, was not taking the stage.

Mussolini attacked Ethiopia in 1935, and in March 1936, months before the Berlin Olympics, Hitler pushed German troops, with no objection, into the Rhineland, against terms of the Treaty of Versailles.

Hitler and Mussolini appeared together often in 1938 as chummy heads of state.

On September 12, 1938, in a keynote at the Nuremberg party rally, Hitler demanded the Sudetenland, a territory in Czechoslovakia, join Germany. Czech President Bensh was not making this concession.

On September 26, 1938, Hitler announced that the Wehrmacht would move on Czechoslovakia on October 1. He insisted that the Sudetenland issue was “the last territorial demand” he would make on Europe.

The German press was under orders to mount a strong and personal attack on Benesh, and “to sow discord between Benesh and his people.”

On September 30,1938, Germany, Italy, France and the United Kingdom signed the Munich Agreement, which allowed for the annexation and military occupation of the Sudetenland by Germany. Czechoslovakia was not consulted. Benesh agreed, despite opposition from within his country, after France and the United Kingdom warned that they would remain neutral, despite their previous promises, in a war between Germany and Czechoslovakia.

Benesh was forced to resign on October 5, 1938, under German pressure.

We see delightful editorial symbolism here, as the entirety of the US political system is charged with just tending to its own field and to not be distracted (Get to Work, Uncle) as Hitler and Mussolini sow discord in Europe.

“Hold That Ace!” (June 13, 1946)
by Burris A. Jenkins, Jr. (1897-1966)
11 x 14 in, ink and crayon on board
Coppola Collection

Burris Jenkins Jr. was the son of a prominent Kansas City minister, war correspondent and newspaper editor. Jenkins Jr. was a popular sports cartoonist, whose work appeared in the New York Journal-American from 1931. His humorous published verses were also popular. Although best known for his sports themes, Jenkins was also a skilled courtroom illustrator and editorial cartoonist.

Jenkins was not afraid to provoke, and he has some strong WW2 examples, including one of the rare direct commentaries on concentration (death) camps. Among his best-remembered cartoons are his angry piece on the discovery of the dead Lindbergh baby, and his sentimental image of Babe Ruth’s farewell to Yankee Stadium.

He was fired from his first job at the Kansas City Post for a series of pessimistic Christmas cartoons, a firing that prompted his father’s resignation from the same newspaper.

His father was an interesting guy. Jenkins, Sr (1968-1945) was ordained in 1891 and served as a pastor in Indianapolis. He received advanced degrees from Harvard and went on to serve as a professor and president of the University of Indianapolis and president of Kentucky University. He left Kentucky to return to Kansas City as pastor of the Linwood Boulevard Christian Church. The church burned in 1939, and Jenkins chose Frank Lloyd Wright as the architect for the church’s new home overlooking the Country Club Plaza.

Jenkins served as editor of the Kansas City Post from 1919 to 1921, hoping to fight for the establishment of the League of Nations. The Jenkins, Sr., biography tells the story about his leaving the Post slightly differently that for the son: “After two years, it became necessary for him to choose between the newspaper and his pulpit and, without hesitation, he resigned from the Post.”

“Live dangerously!” Jenkins would thunder from the pulpit, embracing his own philosophy against all adversaries. Unconventional in nearly every aspect of his chosen field, Jenkins often preached from non-Biblical texts, such as the latest book or his travels abroad. The church frequently hosted motion pictures, dances, card games, and fundraising boxing matches. These activities led to opposition to Jenkins and his Community Church from other churches in the city.

The Baruch Plan was a proposal by the United States government, written largely by Bernard Baruch but based on the Acheson–Lilienthal Report, to the United Nations Atomic Energy Commission (UNAEC) during its first meeting in June 1946. The Soviets knew they were not going to pry the atomic secrets out from the US, so their best tactic was to call for disarmament. These counter-proposals of June 11 were roundly rejected.

The failure of the plan to gain acceptance resulted in a dangerous nuclear arms race between the United States and the Soviet Union during the Cold War, and the failure of the UNAEC, which lasted only a few more years.

At this point, United States had a monopoly on the most destructive weapon known to humankind. As Cold War animosities between the United States and the Soviet Union began to develop in the months after the end of the war, a sharp discussion ensued in the administration of President Harry S. Truman. Some officials, including Secretary of War Henry R. Stimson and Secretary of Commerce Henry Wallace, argued that the United States should share its atomic secrets with the Soviets. The continuing U.S. monopoly, they argued, would only result in growing Russian suspicions and an eventual arms race.

Others, such as State Department official George F. Kennan, strenuously argued against this position. The Soviets, these people declared, could not be trusted and the United States would be foolish to relinquish its atomic “ace in the hole.”

The phrase was intimately connected with Truman who, during the Potsdam Conference (July/Aug 1945), relied on a consistent poker analogy when dealing with Stalin. In a letter to his wife, Truman boasted that “he [Stalin] doesn’t know it, but I have an ace in the hole.”

“Next?” (August 15, 1946)
by Burris A. Jenkins, Jr. (1897-1966)
11 x 14 in, ink and crayon on board
Coppola Collection

Burris Jenkins Jr. was the son of a prominent Kansas City minister, war correspondent and newspaper editor. Jenkins Jr. was a popular sports cartoonist, whose work appeared in the New York Journal-American from 1931. His humorous published verses were also popular. Although best known for his sports themes, Jenkins was also a skilled courtroom illustrator and editorial cartoonist.

Jenkins was not afraid to provoke, and he has some strong WW2 examples, including one of the rare direct commentaries on concentration (death) camps. Among his best-remembered cartoons are his angry piece on the discovery of the dead Lindbergh baby, and his sentimental image of Babe Ruth’s farewell to Yankee Stadium.

He was fired from his first job at the Kansas City Post for a series of pessimistic Christmas cartoons, a firing that prompted his father’s resignation from the same newspaper.

His father was an interesting guy. Jenkins, Sr (1968-1945) was ordained in 1891 and served as a pastor in Indianapolis. He received advanced degrees from Harvard and went on to serve as a professor and president of the University of Indianapolis and president of Kentucky University. He left Kentucky to return to Kansas City as pastor of the Linwood Boulevard Christian Church. The church burned in 1939, and Jenkins chose Frank Lloyd Wright as the architect for the church’s new home overlooking the Country Club Plaza.

Jenkins served as editor of the Kansas City Post from 1919 to 1921, hoping to fight for the establishment of the League of Nations. The Jenkins, Sr., biography tells the story about his leaving the Post slightly differently that for the son: “After two years, it became necessary for him to choose between the newspaper and his pulpit and, without hesitation, he resigned from the Post.”

“Live dangerously!” Jenkins would thunder from the pulpit, embracing his own philosophy against all adversaries. Unconventional in nearly every aspect of his chosen field, Jenkins often preached from non-Biblical texts, such as the latest book or his travels abroad. The church frequently hosted motion pictures, dances, card games, and fundraising boxing matches. These activities led to opposition to Jenkins and his Community Church from other churches in the city.

The scenario of the corrupt Union Boss taking any excuse for a laborer to be on strike could belong to any of a hundred historical events. But the date gives a clue.

A profound aspect to this drawing is the insight into the cavalier racial stereotyping that was so unquestioningly accepted for so long. Linger for a moment on that poster in the background.

Many unsuccessful attempts were made to form a trade union prior to 1941. But in that year, on August 3, a representative miners’ conference was called by the Transvaal Provincial Committee of the African National Congress, and an organized labor union was the ultimate result.

On August 12, 1946 African mine workers of the Witwatersrand went on strike in support of a demand for higher wages – 10 shillings a day. They continued the strike for a week in the face of the most savage police terror, in which officially 1,248 workers were wounded and a very large number – officially only 9 – were killed. Lawless police and army violence smashed the strike. The resources of the racist State were mobilized, almost on a war footing, against the unarmed workmen.

The strike was the first widespread action taken by African workers since 1920.

“Anchor’s Away!” (August 31, 1935)
by Burris A. Jenkins, Jr. (1897-1966)
11 x 14 in, ink and crayon on board
Coppola Collection

Burris Jenkins Jr. was the son of a prominent Kansas City minister, war correspondent and newspaper editor. Jenkins Jr. was a popular sports cartoonist, whose work appeared in the New York Journal-American from 1931. His humorous published verses were also popular. Although best known for his sports themes, Jenkins was also a skilled courtroom illustrator and editorial cartoonist.

Jenkins was not afraid to provoke, and he has some strong WW2 examples, including one of the rare direct commentaries on concentration (death) camps. Among his best-remembered cartoons are his angry piece on the discovery of the dead Lindbergh baby, and his sentimental image of Babe Ruth’s farewell to Yankee Stadium.

He was fired from his first job at the Kansas City Post for a series of pessimistic Christmas cartoons, a firing that prompted his father’s resignation from the same newspaper.

His father was an interesting guy. Jenkins, Sr (1968-1945) was ordained in 1891 and served as a pastor in Indianapolis. He received advanced degrees from Harvard and went on to serve as a professor and president of the University of Indianapolis and president of Kentucky University. He left Kentucky to return to Kansas City as pastor of the Linwood Boulevard Christian Church. The church burned in 1939, and Jenkins chose Frank Lloyd Wright as the architect for the church’s new home overlooking the Country Club Plaza.

Jenkins served as editor of the Kansas City Post from 1919 to 1921, hoping to fight for the establishment of the League of Nations. The Jenkins, Sr., biography tells the story about his leaving the Post slightly differently that for the son: “After two years, it became necessary for him to choose between the newspaper and his pulpit and, without hesitation, he resigned from the Post.”

“Live dangerously!” Jenkins would thunder from the pulpit, embracing his own philosophy against all adversaries. Unconventional in nearly every aspect of his chosen field, Jenkins often preached from non-Biblical texts, such as the latest book or his travels abroad. The church frequently hosted motion pictures, dances, card games, and fundraising boxing matches. These activities led to opposition to Jenkins and his Community Church from other churches in the city.

FDR instituted radical tax reforms as a way to get the US out of the Great Depression.

Major Revenue Acts appeared in every year of his first administration.

The Revenue Act of 1935 was signed into law on August 30, 1935, and raised federal income tax on higher income levels, by introducing the “Wealth Tax.” It was a progressive tax that took up to 75 percent of the highest incomes (over $1 million per year.).

The Act was signed into law over strong opposition from (quelle grande surprise!) business, the rich, and conservatives from both parties. The 1935 Act also was popularly known at the time as the “Soak the Rich” tax. It took two more years to shut down the tax loopholes used by some in those aforementioned categories.

The revenue had to be raised, but a legitimate concern for the effects on a strapped country was being raised, too.

“Ain’t Doing Bad for a Tenderfoot” (June 30, 1936)
by Gerald Aloysius (Jerry) Doyle, Jr. (1898-1986)
13 x 13 in., ink on board
Coppola Collection

Jerry Doyle spent most of his career at The Philadelphia Record, The Philadelphia Daily News(1951) and The Philadelphia Inquirer. He retired in 1973. Doyle’s support for the New Deal meant that his cartoons generally expressed support for President Roosevelt, whom he depicted as tall, imposing, powerful, and larger-than-life. Doyle’s early and continual criticism towards Hitler and Mussolini made him the only American cartoonist to be put on the Nazi hit list. He wrote the book “According to Doyle – A Cartoon History of World War II” (1943). His son, who carried his name, was also a part-time cartoonist (1926-2009).

The 1936 election was the last Democratic landslide in the west. Democrats won every state except Kansas (opposition Alfred Landon’s home state) by more than 10%. West of the Great Plains States, Democrats only lost seven counties. Since 1936, only Richard Nixon in 1972 has even approached such a disproportionate ratio. After 1936, the west rapidly became a Republican stronghold, the only region that has been consistent in the party it supports for such a long time.

The editorial commentary about New Yorker FDR’s ability to woo the (wild) Western states impresses the local political forces: Joseph O’Mahoney (Wyoming), Burton Kendall Wheeler (Montana), and Edward Burke (Nebraska).

In 1940 and 1944, a big patch of Red reappeared in the heartland.

“Meditation at the Woodpile” (March 3, 1938)
by Gerald Aloysius (Jerry) Doyle, Jr. (1898-1986)
15.5 x 18 in., ink on board
Coppola Collection

Jerry Doyle spent most of his career at The Philadelphia Record, The Philadelphia Daily News(1951) and The Philadelphia Inquirer. He retired in 1973. Doyle’s support for the New Deal meant that his cartoons generally expressed support for President Roosevelt, whom he depicted as tall, imposing, powerful, and larger-than-life. Doyle’s early and continual criticism towards Hitler and Mussolini made him the only American cartoonist to be put on the Nazi hit list. He wrote the book “According to Doyle – A Cartoon History of World War II” (1943). His son, who carried his name, was also a part-time cartoonist (1926-2009).

After WW1, Kaiser Wilhelm exiled himself to Holland.  He settled in a country house in the municipality of Doorn, known as Huis Doorn, on May 15, 1920. And Hitler, a veteran of WW1, like other leading Nazis, felt nothing but contempt for the man they blamed for Germany’s greatest defeat.

On February 4, 1938, The Wehrmacht was established in Nazi Germany by decree, putting Hitler himself in complete control of the military. The new command structure abolished the position of War Minister, and twelve senior generals were sent into retirement.

On February 12, 1938, Austrian Chancellor Kurt Schuschnigg went to see Hitler in Berchtesgaden. Schuschnigg tried to open the meeting with light conversation about the beauty of the view, but Hitler brushed such talk aside and began a tirade of shouting, threatening to invade unless his demands compromising Austria’s sovereignty were met.

On February 22, 1938, by a vote of 330-168, Neville Chamberlain’s appeasement policy was endorsed by the House of Commons. Winston Churchill was among about 20 Conservatives who abstained from voting.

On March 1, 1938, Hermann Goering was presented with a field marshal’s baton by Adolf Hitler, who made the gesture to placate Goering for not giving him a cabinet position.

In news reports on March 2, 1938, Field Marshal General Hermann Goering, warns that Adolf Hitler’s “protectorate” over Germans of Austria and Czechoslovakia will be backed up by Nazi bombing planes: “We are burning with zeal … to prove to Der Fuehrer and the German people that his air force is invincible.” The Field Marshal didn’t say how the Third Reich proposed to avoid hitting Germans as well as Austrians in Vienna, further saying that his air force would be “terrible in action.”

Burning with Zeal… Locked and Loaded… Fire and Fury…

Kaiser Wilhelm, in Holland, Wilhelm has grown to distrust Hitler: “We have ceased to live under the rule of law and everyone must be prepared for the possibility that the Nazis will push their way in and put them up against the wall!”

On March 12, 1938, German troops marched into Austria to annex the German-speaking nation for the Third Reich.

Wilhelm was also appalled at the Kristallnacht of 9–10 November 1938: “For the first time, I am ashamed to be a German.”

From a published article by ex-Kaiser Wilhelm on Hitler, December 15, 1938:

“There’s a man alone, without family, without children, without God … He builds legions, but he doesn’t build a nation. A nation is created by families, a religion, traditions: it is made up out of the hearts of mothers, the wisdom of fathers, the joy and the exuberance of children … For a few months I was inclined to believe in National Socialism. I thought of it as a necessary fever. And I was gratified to see that there were, associated with it for a time, some of the wisest and most outstanding Germans. But these, one by one, he has got rid of or even killed … He has left nothing but a bunch of shirted gangsters! This man could bring home victories to our people each year, without bringing them either glory or danger. But of our Germany, which was a nation of poets and musicians, of artists and soldiers, he has made a nation of hysterics and hermits, engulfed in a mob and led by a thousand liars or fanatics.”

“Mr Benito Micawber Waits for Something to Show Up” (July 3, 1943)
by Gerald Aloysius (Jerry) Doyle, Jr. (1898-1986)
16 x 18 in., ink on board
Coppola Collection

Jerry Doyle spent most of his career at The Philadelphia Record, The Philadelphia Daily News(1951) and The Philadelphia Inquirer. He retired in 1973. Doyle’s support for the New Deal meant that his cartoons generally expressed support for President Roosevelt, whom he depicted as tall, imposing, powerful, and larger-than-life. Doyle’s early and continual criticism towards Hitler and Mussolini made him the only American cartoonist to be put on the Nazi hit list. He wrote the book “According to Doyle – A Cartoon History of World War II” (1943). His son, who carried his name, was also a part-time cartoonist (1926-2009).

Wilkins Micawber was a clerk in Charles Dickens’s 1850 novel David Copperfield. He is traditionally identified with the optimistic belief that “something will turn up.” His name has become synonymous with someone who lives in hopeful expectation.

Mussolini’s dreams of waging a short war almost independently from Hitler faded away during 1941 in the snows of Greece. His main concern became how to secure an important place for Italy in a German-dominated Europe. Hitler blamed his need to go rescue the Italians on the Greek front for delaying his invasion of Russia.

As the war turned against Germany, Mussolini wanted to find a political solution to the conflict by negotiating a separate peace agreement with Moscow.

By mid-June, 1943, the war was all but lost for the Italians. The Italian population was alienated, and the Grand Council and the king were pressing Mussolini to negotiate a way out of the war.

Mussolini was completely isolated. He was playing both sides. And although years later, Mussolini’s alienation is notably described in Bosworth’s biography of him as Dickens’s Wilkins Micawber who, despite ‘of being utterly devoid of plans’, obstinately hoped – somehow – ‘that something positive would turn up,’ it’s pretty clear that this was a contemporary editorial position.

In late June, Mussolini was continuing his psychological contest with Hitler. On July 1, 1943, against the Hitler’s wishes, Mussolini met with the Romanian deputy premier, Antonescu, with whom he agreed to promote the long-debated inter-Axis conference (and a Nazi-Soviet settlement, which was of no interest to Hitler).

The Allies were knocking on the door, and the first invasion of Nazi-controlled Europe would begin on July 10, 1943, when Patton’s army landed in Sicily.  In his last speech before the invasion, Mussolini was still declaring his confidence in being able to repulse the Allies and demonstrate the futility of taking on the Axis. ‘Maybe then’, he said, ‘whoever until now has let himself be slaughtered all to the good of the Anglo-Saxon plutocracy will realize that the game is not worth the candle.’

This is a great saying that we have lost. It refers to playing a game of cards for stakes that are so low that it is not worth the price of the candle being used to light the play.***

On the day of the landing, the Italian government secretly agreed to the Allies’ terms for surrender, but no public announcement was made until September 8.

On July 25, 1943, following the agreement, Mussolini was voted out of power by his own Grand Council and arrested upon leaving a meeting with King Vittorio Emanuele, who tells Il Duce that the war is lost.

*** candles were a real expense, of course, as much as paying an electric bill is today; perhaps not surprisingly, there were many phrases that related to not wasting your candles. I wonder if its use by Mussolini in 1943 might not have been the last highly visible occurrence?

A brief view of the early etymology:

Stephen Gosson’s “The ephemerides of Phialo… And a short apologie of The schoole of abuse,” (1579): “I burnt one candle to seek another, and lost bothe my time and my trauell [work].”

In William Lambarde’s “Eirenarcha,” (1581): “I shal but set a Candle in the Sunshine.”

‘Not worth the candle’ is ultimately of French origin. It appears in Randle Cotgrave’s “A Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues,” (1611), where it is listed as: “Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle.”

The first known printed record of the phrase in English is in Sir William Temple’s “Works,” (1690): “Perhaps the Play is not worth the Candle.”

“War! War!” (June 13, 1940)
by Emidio (Mike) Angelo (1903-1990)
18 x 18 in., ink on art board
Coppola Collection

Emidio Angelo was born in Philadelphia, a year after his mother and father, a baker, arrived from Italy. He studied art from 1924 to 1928 at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. Angelo joined The Philadelphia Inquirer as a political cartoonist in 1937 and worked there until 1954. He also drew cartoons for the Saturday Evening Post, Life and Esquire.

On September 1, 1939, Germany invaded Poland. And less than a year later, both sides (but especially the Germans) were set to escalate past The Phoney War. Germany invades the West on May 10, 1940, taking the Netherlands, Belgium, and Luxembourg. This was the day British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain resigned and was replaced by Winston Churchill. In six weeks time, Hitler would be walking through the streets of Paris.

On June 8, 1940, the Germans crossed the Seine.

On June 9, 1940, the French government fled Paris.

On June 10, Norway surrendered to Germany.

On the evening of June 10, 1940, Benito Mussolini appeared on the balcony of the Palazzo Venezia to announce that in six hours, Italy would be in a state of war with France and Britain.

“People of Italy: take up your weapons and show your tenacity, your courage and your valor.”

The Italians had no battle plans of any kind prepared. Anti-Italian riots broke out in major cities across the United Kingdom after Italy’s declaration of war. Bricks, stones and bottles were thrown through the windows of Italian-owned shops, and 100 arrests were made in Edinburgh alone. Canada declared war on Italy. Italy broke off relations with Poland. Belgium broke off relations with Italy. And the Italian invasion of France began.

While making a commencement speech at the Memorial Gymnasium of the University of Virginia, President Roosevelt denounced Mussolini: “On this tenth day of June, 1940, the hand that held the dagger has plunged it into the back of its neighbor.” The president also said that military victories for the “gods of force and hate” were a threat to all democracies in the western world and that America could no longer pretend to be a “lone island in a world of force.”

On June 14, the Germans entered Paris unopposed (and as every fan of Casablancaknows, Ilsa Lund left Rick Blaine a goodbye note as he boarded the train to Marseille, on the way to North Africa).

On June 23, 1940, Adolf Hitler took a train to Paris and visited sites including the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe and Napoleon’s tomb.

“You Gotta Stop Picking on Me!” (October 9, 1939)
by Emidio (Mike) Angelo (1903-1990)
18 x 18 in., ink on art board
Coppola Collection

Emidio Angelo was born in Philadelphia, a year after his mother and father, a baker, arrived from Italy. He studied art from 1924 to 1928 at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. Angelo joined The Philadelphia Inquirer as a political cartoonist in 1937 and worked there until 1954. He also drew cartoons for the Saturday Evening Post, Life and Esquire.

On September 1, 1939, Germany invaded Poland.

On October 4, 1939, Adolf Hitler issued a secret decree granting an amnesty to all crimes committed by German military and police personnel in Poland between September 1 and October 4. The decree justified the crimes as being natural responses to “atrocities committed by the Poles.

On October 5, 1939, Hitler flew to Warsaw and reviewed a victory parade in the fallen Polish capital.

On October 6, 1939, Hitler addressed a special session of the Reichstag. After speaking at great length about the victory over Poland he then proposed an international security conference, hinting at desire for an armistice by saying that such a conference would be impossible “while cannons are thundering.”

And there is the context for this view of Germany’s two-faced relationship with the truth. The public face of Germany’s actions was so guided and calculated as to appear uneventful, birthing the notion that these first 8 months or so of WW2 were called The Phoney War (until the European invasion on May 10, 1940).

On October 12, 1939, the regions of Nazi-occupied Poland not annexed by the Reich were incorporated into a new administrative unit called the General Government.