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& Walt Kelly with one of his Sunday "Pogo" drawings. Albert Alligator and Pogo Possum en route to The Star. ftpkyyxHf u6 W1U ^0Ufc LAPV - V’*-—aI I * **** ***£' V c> r **** 'NTQ Ub COULP *0*X IT (JUT rt T ft C j fkmw iute ntoTnUu** *2* HtPUBMf Yj\ '“pcffirv*"*£•"»* * ™ I wi we it Foe >ou to ^tetNAOt Hte / J I BAU ****** ****** ***** 1J* XU*?1 S"1 - with- pitHKNMfP A^J r MAMtP UK} TW.P By Philip II. Lov«* kkATVRE k.DITOR Ok Tllk STAR tto000 fans. relax: 1. Your favorite comic still is being drawn by its originator, Walt Kelly. The strange names signed to it lately are only a test. Cartoonist Kelly, it seems, has developed an inferiority complex in relation to the characters he draws for The Star and about 270 other newspapers. ‘ Millions of people know Pogo," he points out. “Mil lions know Albert the Alliga tor, Churchy La Femme the Turtle. Beauregard the Houn' Dog, Howland Owl, Deacon Mushrat, even the lowly caterpiggles. But hbw many of those people know that Pogo and his pals are drawn by Walt Kelly? Why. I’ll bet you could sign any name to the strip and nobody would ever notice it!" That’s why Pogo has been carrying such improbable signatures as Moron Mundy. Tuppence Happenny. Crib bage Moonbeam and Pres. Wm. J. Bryan. But Mr. Kelly has lost his bet. At this writing, five readers of The Star have phoned to ask what has become of him and his syndicate reports similar inquiries from readers of other papers. “If Walt Kelly has been fired," one of The Star's call ers said, “somebody's head needs examining. It just isn’t right for anybody else to be drawing Pogo." Actually, it is extremely un likely that any one else could do the job satisfactorily. Pogo is the product of a sense of humor that is peculiar to Mr. Kelly The last time the cartoon The cartoonist's children, Carolyn, Peter and Kathleen, enjoy a preview Lst was in Washington, he and Ills wife Stephanie visited my home. They were expected at 8:30 p.m., but didn't show up until 10:40. "The cab driver got lost,” Walt explained "He followed my directions." Something that Walt said seemed to irritate his wife. "What did you say?" she de manded. He shrugged. "I don't know. I just went olT and left my mouth running." The Kellys were hardly well settled in their seats when the doorbell rang. "That must be the cab driver," Walt said. "I told him to come back at 11:15.” Walt followed me to the door. "We're not ready to go yet,” he told the driver. Then, to me: “He's a good fellow. Phil. Why don't you invite him in?" - bo tne hacker came m and stayed until 1 a.m. “Are you a reader of the comics?” Walt asked him. The cabbie said he was and Walt wanted to know what strip he liked best. "Dick Tracy," was the disillusioning answer. I told the driver about Pogo. "Never heard of it," he said, “but I’ll sure read it from now on. Is it anything like Dick Tracy?" When the time came to go. the taximan said: "Mr. Kelly, my wife will never believe what happened to me. I was supposed to be home by mid night. To prove where I’ve been, will you please give me your autograph?” "Gladly," Walt responded He drew a card from his pocket, wrote on it and handed it to the driver “Thank you, sir,” the cab man said. Then he glanced at the card. "Why. this says ‘Dick Tracy!’” "A slip of the pen," Walt laughed. "Sorry.” He signed another card and gave it to the hacker. Walt Kelly was born in Philadelphia in 1913 and the family moved to Bridgeport. Conn., about two years later. In high school, he was associ ate editor of the student newspaper and illustrator of • the yearbook. His first job was wrapping bundles of scrap cloth in an underwear factory; the next, smashing faulty switches in an elec trical appliance plant He also worked as a clerk in an artists’ supply store and as a public welfare investigator. Mr. Kelly entered newspa per work as a reporter in Bridgeport, but soon turned to cartooning. He tried free ^ lancing in New York for a ' while, then went to Holly wood as an artist for the Walt Disney Studios. It was in 1942, after his return to New York to work for a publisher of comic mag azines, that he conceived the idea oi me feature mat even tually became Pogo. A swamp beside his home in Darien, Conn., suggested the setting and he decided to have the characters talk the Florlda Oeorgia “cracker" dialect in which his father liked to tell funny stories. The elder Kelly had picked up the lingo on visits to the South. The feature began as a comic magazine. The prin cipal character was a colored boy named Bumbazinc. and an alligator and an opos sum were in the supporting cast. After a while. Mr. Kelly decided he liked the alligator and the possum better than the boy. He named the 'pos sum Pogo and promoted him to the starring role, advanced the alligator to a more im portant part as Albert and fired Bumbazine. Pogo made its debut as a daily strip in the short-lived New York Star. When the paper died, Mr. Kelly re ceived hundreds of letters demanding that the comic be published in one of the other New York dailies. He took-the letters and samples of the strip to Robert M. Hall, pres ident of the Post-Hall Syndi cate, Inc. Mr. Hall persuaded the New York Post to carry the comic and began trying to sell it to papers in other cities. Now Mr Kelly's weekly in come from the daily and Sun day feature alone is in four figures and he still does three comic magazines a year a»)d considerable commercial art work. Also, a collection of his daily strips recently was published in book form Mr. Kelly is tall, dark and good-looking, with brown eyes, black hair and match ing mustache. Black-rimmed glasses and a huge black cigar or a pipe complete the en semble. He works at home, quite often, with his three children—Kathleen, 7; Caro lyn, 5, and Peter, 3—watching every stroke of his pen. "When they laugh,” their father says, "I know the strip is really funny.”