Harold Ross and James Thurber

 

Sixty-eight years ago, what did James Thurber, a giant among The New Yorker magazine’s brilliant and fabulously popular cartoonists, think of his boss ?

 

 

 

 

 

         

 

By Megan McKinney

 

Cartoonist James Thurber’s boss was Harold Ross, co-founder of The New Yorker, the delightful American weekly magazine that continues—a century later—to tower over its peers.

 

By Rea Irvin 

Eustace Tilley 

Above is the fictional Eustace Tilley, who appeared on the magazine’s first cover, as well as the cover of The New Yorker‘s Centennial issue, which crossed our thresholds late last February, and every other anniversary issue except 2017. Eustace was created by Artist Rea Irvin in 1925 and “has become the mascot of the magazine with various artistic interpretations”.

 

Artist Rea Irvin

 

Harold Ross

 

This is James Thurber’s boss, The New Yorker co-founder, Harold Ross, who with his wife—Jane Grant—established the legendary publication in 1925.

 

Jane Grant

 

alchetron.com

James Thurber

To learn  first hand what cartoonist James Thurber thought of Harold Ross, do buy the book and read it. This writer is currently in the midst of doing the latter and enjoying the experience immensely. 

 

 

In the meantime, to entice potential purchasers we are  providing Classic Chicago readers with a memory of the fun of Thurber art from a February 1939 cartoon to pair with his wild copy.  But you’ll need to get out the magnifying glass to read the cartoon’s caption.  

 

 

And, here is our favorite segment of book copy:

“Hell, I hire anybody,” Harold Ross told the great writer and publisher Ralph Ingersoll, who called onThe New Yorker editor Ross asking for a job, and getting one. It wasn’t as simple as it sounds, though. Ingersoll had appeared in the editor’s office dressed in a Palm Beach suit he had bought for the occasion, and Ross had talked to him for only a few minutes, gesticulating widely, when his big right hand struck an inkwell. Suddenly Ingersoll’s new suit was dripping with ink and Ross was covered with embarrassment. Ingersoll had almost reached the office door on what he was sure was his way out of Ross’s life when the editor shouted, “You’re hired!” And then a few moments later, sighed, “Hell, I hire anybody.”                                                                                                                  

Author photo: Robert F. Carl