| LOVED BY DIEF, HATED BY THE ROYALS, YARDLEY JONES REMAINS A CHARACTER ROSS MOROZ - Vue Weekly Magazine October 2006 |
Are all politicians ugly? This thought is the first that runs through my head as I peruse Yardley Jones: A Life of
Character(s), the extensive collection of four decades worth of the work of iconic and prolific local cartoonist
Yardley Jones on display at the U of A’s Extension Centre Gallery.
From his start at the Edmonton Journal in the early ’60s through stints in Montreal and Toronto and finally
back to Edmonton in the ’80s, Jones’s work seems, on the surface, to chronicle 40 years of making fun
of powerful, fat, ugly, white men. A jowly, worried looking Joe Clark tries to borrow West Edmonton Mall’s
submarines for use by the Canadian Navy; a buck-toothed and squinty-eyed Pierre Trudeau terrifies voters
from atop a podium; a red-nosed, dopily-grinning Ralph Klein trundles through the halls of the Legislature.
Funny stuff, certainly, but a deeper look reveals that, beneath the sight gags and clever puns, the assembled
cartoons act as a kind of visual history of the last half of the 20th century, providing a candid look at the
contemporary public’s beliefs, fears and neuroses regarding what are now looked back upon as major
historical events. From Vietnam to the Gulf War, from Diefenbaker to Chrétien, from JFK to Bill Clinton,
Jones’s cartoons tell us what the artist (and we) were thinking about these historical figures back when
they were just, you know, ugly politicians, and how these attitudes change and evolve over an artist’s (and
a politician’s) lifetime.
“I wanted to show how important cartooning is as an artform,� explains Extension Centre Gallery curator
Val Smyth as he hangs a particularly stinging caricature of Richard Nixon and pals Henry Kissinger and Spiro
Agnew flying spread eagle over a barren landscape, grinning contentedly as bombs drop from their pot
bellies. “I wanted to show the development of not only the characters [Jones] drew, but also the
development of his own style over the last 40 years.�
Having originally set his sights on becoming a classical watercolourist, the Welsh-born Jones left the UK for
Canada with his wife in 1957. Upon arriving in Edmonton, he found work as a house painter, but, having done
a bit of freelance cartooning back home, he soon found himself peddling cartoons to local publications,
delivering sketches to the publisher of the Edmonton Journal almost daily.
“He would chuckle pleasantly, but say no,� remembers Jones, surveying the collection of originals and
prints crowding the tiny gallery. Undeterred, he continued to sketch, and one afternoon in January of 1962,
while watching workers scale the treacherous heights of a building being demolished on the corner of Jasper
Avenue and 101 Street as the Western world was transfixed by American astronaut John Glenn’s heroics
as the first non-Soviet in space, he had an epiphany, drawing a simple cartoon on an envelope and delivering
it to the Journal publisher, who this time relented, hiring Jones as the paper’s full-time editorial cartoonist.
Jones went on to work for the Toronto Telelgram and then the Montreal Star in the ’60s and ’70s
before coming back to Edmonton to work for the Sun in the ’80s and finally retiring in the early ’90s
after returning to the Journal. His time in central Canada brought his work international notice and acclaim,
even bringing him into contact with some of his regular subjects. John Diefenbaker was an admitted fan of
Jones’s work, and three straight American Presidents (Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon) requested copies of
favourite Jones cartoons that featured them.
Attention from the establishment wasn’t always so laudatory, though: Jones has been sued six times, once
faced down hundreds of angry postal workers waiting for him outside the Sun offices after a series of nasty
cartoons about the Post, and even received transcontinental death threats after an publishing unflattering
piece in advance of a royal visit.
“It was a rather nasty cartoon of Princess Margaret—I had her walking down Jasper Avenue like a hooker,
� Jones remembers, chuckling. “Three papers in London ended up picking it up, and I ended up getting
phone calls from as far away as Australia and New Zealand as well as a nasty letter from the UK saying that I
ought not to come back—or else.�
Despite the often scathing nature of his work, Jones insists he’s not really all that involved or interested
in government, at least at a partisan level—for him, it was only about what would make a better cartoon.
“I really wasn’t deeply political,� he admits. “I only ever really wanted any specific person to get
elected because I really liked drawing them.�
Such as?
Jones laughs. “Well, Nixon and Diefenbaker were two good ones,� he chuckles. “I mean, look at them.
�
To Nov 8, 2006
Yardley Jones: A Life of Character(s)
U of A Extension Centre Gallery
(2nd floor, 8303 - 112 Street)
Character(s), the extensive collection of four decades worth of the work of iconic and prolific local cartoonist
Yardley Jones on display at the U of A’s Extension Centre Gallery.
From his start at the Edmonton Journal in the early ’60s through stints in Montreal and Toronto and finally
back to Edmonton in the ’80s, Jones’s work seems, on the surface, to chronicle 40 years of making fun
of powerful, fat, ugly, white men. A jowly, worried looking Joe Clark tries to borrow West Edmonton Mall’s
submarines for use by the Canadian Navy; a buck-toothed and squinty-eyed Pierre Trudeau terrifies voters
from atop a podium; a red-nosed, dopily-grinning Ralph Klein trundles through the halls of the Legislature.
Funny stuff, certainly, but a deeper look reveals that, beneath the sight gags and clever puns, the assembled
cartoons act as a kind of visual history of the last half of the 20th century, providing a candid look at the
contemporary public’s beliefs, fears and neuroses regarding what are now looked back upon as major
historical events. From Vietnam to the Gulf War, from Diefenbaker to Chrétien, from JFK to Bill Clinton,
Jones’s cartoons tell us what the artist (and we) were thinking about these historical figures back when
they were just, you know, ugly politicians, and how these attitudes change and evolve over an artist’s (and
a politician’s) lifetime.
“I wanted to show how important cartooning is as an artform,� explains Extension Centre Gallery curator
Val Smyth as he hangs a particularly stinging caricature of Richard Nixon and pals Henry Kissinger and Spiro
Agnew flying spread eagle over a barren landscape, grinning contentedly as bombs drop from their pot
bellies. “I wanted to show the development of not only the characters [Jones] drew, but also the
development of his own style over the last 40 years.�
Having originally set his sights on becoming a classical watercolourist, the Welsh-born Jones left the UK for
Canada with his wife in 1957. Upon arriving in Edmonton, he found work as a house painter, but, having done
a bit of freelance cartooning back home, he soon found himself peddling cartoons to local publications,
delivering sketches to the publisher of the Edmonton Journal almost daily.
“He would chuckle pleasantly, but say no,� remembers Jones, surveying the collection of originals and
prints crowding the tiny gallery. Undeterred, he continued to sketch, and one afternoon in January of 1962,
while watching workers scale the treacherous heights of a building being demolished on the corner of Jasper
Avenue and 101 Street as the Western world was transfixed by American astronaut John Glenn’s heroics
as the first non-Soviet in space, he had an epiphany, drawing a simple cartoon on an envelope and delivering
it to the Journal publisher, who this time relented, hiring Jones as the paper’s full-time editorial cartoonist.
Jones went on to work for the Toronto Telelgram and then the Montreal Star in the ’60s and ’70s
before coming back to Edmonton to work for the Sun in the ’80s and finally retiring in the early ’90s
after returning to the Journal. His time in central Canada brought his work international notice and acclaim,
even bringing him into contact with some of his regular subjects. John Diefenbaker was an admitted fan of
Jones’s work, and three straight American Presidents (Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon) requested copies of
favourite Jones cartoons that featured them.
Attention from the establishment wasn’t always so laudatory, though: Jones has been sued six times, once
faced down hundreds of angry postal workers waiting for him outside the Sun offices after a series of nasty
cartoons about the Post, and even received transcontinental death threats after an publishing unflattering
piece in advance of a royal visit.
“It was a rather nasty cartoon of Princess Margaret—I had her walking down Jasper Avenue like a hooker,
� Jones remembers, chuckling. “Three papers in London ended up picking it up, and I ended up getting
phone calls from as far away as Australia and New Zealand as well as a nasty letter from the UK saying that I
ought not to come back—or else.�
Despite the often scathing nature of his work, Jones insists he’s not really all that involved or interested
in government, at least at a partisan level—for him, it was only about what would make a better cartoon.
“I really wasn’t deeply political,� he admits. “I only ever really wanted any specific person to get
elected because I really liked drawing them.�
Such as?
Jones laughs. “Well, Nixon and Diefenbaker were two good ones,� he chuckles. “I mean, look at them.
�
To Nov 8, 2006
Yardley Jones: A Life of Character(s)
U of A Extension Centre Gallery
(2nd floor, 8303 - 112 Street)
