Like jazz and baseball, cartoons are an indelible, indigenous part of American culture. "Cartoon America" celebrates 250 years of American cartooning with an unprecedented selection of original art by the best, most accomplished creators in the history of comics illustration. Illustrations.

From Benjamin Franklin's drawing of the first American political cartoon in 1754 to contemporary cartoonists' blistering attacks on George W. Bush and initial love-affair with Barack Obama, editorial cartoons have been a part of American journalism and politics. American Political Cartoons chronicles the nation's highs and lows in an extensive collection of cartoons that span the entire history of American political cartooning."Good cartoons hit you primitively and emotionally," said cartoonist Doug Marlette. "A cartoon is a frontal attack, a slam dunk, a cluster bomb." Most cartoonists pride themselves on attacking honestly, if ruthlessly. American Political Cartoons recounts many direct hits, recalling the discomfort of the cartoons' targets and the delight of their readers.Through skillful combination of pictures and words, cartoonists galvanize public opinion for or against their subjects. In the process they have revealed truths about us and our democratic system that have been both embarrassing and ennobling. Stephen Hess and Sandy Northrop note that not all cartoonists have worn white hats. Many have perpetuated demeaning ethnic stereotypes, slandered honest politicians, and oversimplified complex issues.

Discusses the distinctiveness of the cartoon form, as well as myriad other types of animation production, and examines animation's importance as a barometer of the social conditions in which it is made and which it reflects. [back cover].

A history of the cartoonists and illustrators from the Connecticut School, written by the son of the artist behind the popular strips "Prince Valiant" and "Big Ben Bolt, " explores the achievements and pop-culture influence of these artists in the aftermath of World War II.

In Cartoon Vision Dan Bashara examines American animation alongside the modern design boom of the postwar era. Focusing especially on United Productions of America (UPA), a studio whose graphic, abstract style defined the postwar period, Bashara considers animation akin to a laboratory, exploring new models of vision and space alongside theorists and practitioners in other fields. The links—theoretical, historical, and aesthetic—between animators, architects, designers, artists, and filmmakers reveal a specific midcentury modernism that rigorously reimagined the senses. Cartoon Vision invokes the American Bauhaus legacy of László Moholy-Nagy and György Kepes and advocates for animation’s pivotal role in a utopian design project of retraining the public’s vision to better apprehend a rapidly changing modern world.

In the first four years of U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War (1961-64), Hollywood did not dramatize the current military conflict but rather romanticized earlier ones. Cartoons reflected only previous trends in U.S. culture, and animators comically but patriotically remembered the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and both World Wars. In the early years of military escalation in Vietnam, Hollywood was simply not ready to illustrate America's contemporary radicalism and race relations in live-action or animated films. But this trend changed when US participation dramatically increased between 1965 and 1968. In the year of the Tet Offensive and the killings of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., and Senator Robert Kennedy, the violence of the Vietnam War era caught up with animators. This book discusses the evolution of U.S. animation from militaristic and violent to liberal and pacifist and the role of the Vietnam War in this development. The book chronologically documents theatrical and television cartoon studios' changing responses to U.S. participation in the Vietnam War between 1961 and 1973, using as evidence the array of artistic commentary about the federal government, the armed forces, the draft, peace negotiations, the counterculture movement, racial issues, and pacifism produced during this period. The study further reveals the extent to which cartoon violence served as a barometer of national sentiment on Vietnam. When many Americans supported the war in the 1960s, scenes of bombings and gunfire were prevalent in animated films. As Americans began to favor withdrawal, militaristic images disappeared from the cartoon. Soon animated cartoons would serve as enlightening artifacts of Vietnam War-era ideology. In addition to the assessment of primary film materials, this book draws upon interviews with people involved in the production Vietnam-era films. Film critics responding in their newspaper columns to the era's innovative cartoon sociopolitical commentary also serve as invaluable references. Three informative appendices contribute to the work.

Mickey Mouse, Betty Boop, Donald Duck, Bugs Bunny, Felix the Cat, and other beloved cartoon characters have entertained media audiences for almost a century, outliving the human stars who were once their contemporaries in studio-era Hollywood. In Animated Personalities, David McGowan asserts that iconic American theatrical short cartoon characters should be legitimately regarded as stars, equal to their live-action counterparts, not only because they have enjoyed long careers, but also because their star personas have been created and marketed in ways also used for cinematic celebrities. Drawing on detailed archival research, McGowan analyzes how Hollywood studios constructed and manipulated the star personas of the animated characters they owned. He shows how cartoon actors frequently kept pace with their human counterparts, granting “interviews,” allowing “candid” photographs, endorsing products, and generally behaving as actual actors did—for example, Donald Duck served his country during World War II, and Mickey Mouse was even embroiled in scandal. Challenging the notion that studios needed actors with physical bodies and real off-screen lives to create stars, McGowan demonstrates that media texts have successfully articulated an off-screen existence for animated characters. Following cartoon stars from silent movies to contemporary film and television, this groundbreaking book broadens the scope of star studies to include animation, concluding with provocative questions about the nature of stardom in an age of digitally enhanced filmmaking technologies.