Saturday, December 12, 2015

Oona Chaplin "serious" drawing

Every so often I challenge myself to do a more "serious" drawing - not a caricature, not a stylized depiction of someone or something, not a cartoon. Every so often I think the results are okay. I was unaware of the actress Oona Chaplin (daughter of Geraldine, granddaughter of Charlie) until she showed up on Game of Thrones, and I thought she was not only a strong character presence in the massive ensemble, but she also had a great face for drawing. She played the character with a nice undercurrent of sadness and impending doom, as if she felt like she was never destined for a happy life. She should have R.S.V.P.'d "ignore" instead of "going" to that Red Wedding invitation...

Friday, December 11, 2015

Bonds. Good Bonds. Bond. Bad Bond.

My brother and I were having an e-conversation the other day about High Brow Art, Outsider Art, and the role of pop culture as a substitute for mythos. (It sounds a good deal more hoity toity than it actually was - with us its more like a "Nah uh", "Yah hunh", "Fraid not", "Fraid so" kind of conversation) And he referenced James Bond as a great example (and according to him, one of the very few bona fide ones) of a pop culture icon that has transcended pop culture and ascended to the higher plane of a kind of proto-myth.  
Of course, guys like us - from a particular generation - not sayin' we're old...but we guys, us guys, when choosing their "best Bond" tend to prefer Sean Connery - this guy...
...possibly because we hungrily devoured the original source material - Ian Fleming's dark and wonderfully nihilistic cold war chronicles of the super agent On Her Majesty's Secret Service, and at the time Connery brandished the right amount of suave, sardonic and brutal. A manly-man role model apropos of the post WWII Age of seemingly imminent mutual mass nuclear annihilation and the subterranean machinations of the shadowy government groups who spied on one another.
It didn't hurt that the first cinematic incarnations of Fleming's creation- the early Bond movies - were immensely entertaining - fast-paced, far fetched and full of black humor (or humour) and a visceral, creepy violence that established a particularly sticky kind of menace - memorably indelible. 
It also introduced that widest set of villains since Batman or Dick Tracy - evil industrialists or atomic mad scientists with metal hands. Bad guys who had imposing henchmen and a nasty wit of their own.
Sean Connery made James Bond his own, and in the process made him a character with "legs" - a potent cultural presence for half a century and still going.
When the character was re-cast for the fifth time (seventh if you count Barry Nelson and David Niven, but no one really does) and the essence of Bond and his role updated for the new millennium, the choice of Daniel Craig was inspired, and has proven wildly successful.
Craig also possesses both a brooding sense of purpose and an imposing physicality. He seems perfect as the necessary "Blunt instrument"the British government wields against terrorists and shadowy criminal/terrorist organizations the equals of their Cold War counterparts. 
Even though Pierce Brosnan wasn't a bad Bond, it has taken Daniel Craig to erase the queasy memories of twelve years of the progressively depressing slapstick cartoons that were the Bond movies with Roger Moore. 
The less said about that era the better.
Oh yeah, and if you're interested in the phenomenal contribution that the music had in making Bond a cultural icon, you may want to listen to this fascinating and entertaining audio documentary on composer John Barry, the man who wrote the Bond theme, and crafted the scores for at least twelve of the Bond movies:

Thursday, December 10, 2015

Serious Abe Lincoln/Silly Abe Lincoln

Abraham Lincoln has always been one of my favorite subjects to draw - mostly because his face is just such a unique and powerful combination of structures - but also because there's such a vast catalog of clear and wonderful photos of his face. Drawing from Lincoln's face is also such a treat because there are so many ways you can go with it - certainly more sober or more irreverent. Here are a few of my own sketches/paintings of Lincoln, starting with a couple of more "serious" takes and then a few sillier versions.
An Abe portrait, from a scanned pencil sketch, painted in Photoshop...
 
Abe and Mary (initially inspired by an image of Laurel & Hardy)... also a pencil sketch into Photoshop... followed by three completely silly Lincoln sketchbook incarnations...


Wednesday, December 09, 2015

Tex Ritter, what?

For no good reason other than that I came across these and remembered that I liked 'em, here's a drawing of cowboy star Tex Ritter! 
A natural born Texan, Ritter was a bona fide cowboy star in the 30s, 40s and 50s. Although he was most successful as an early country singer on the radio, he was able to capitalize on that fame and star in at least 50 "B" Westerns for Grand National, Monogram and eventually Universal Pictures. Tex was a "singing cowboy" in his movies - consequently during breaks in the ridin' robin' rustling' action of the narrative he would begin to warble, usually to the female romantic interest. He was able to translate his "B" movie stardom into charted hits, in the country category, singles like Yippee Ti Yi Yo (Git Along Little Dogie) and the theme from the "A" movie High Noon ("Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darlin')
Tex was also the father of three successful actors: the late great John Ritter of Three's Company and Bad Santa fame, as well as John's son (with actress Amy Yasbeck of Men In Tights fame) Jason of the TV shows Gravity Falls, Joan of Arcadia and Parenthood, and Tyler Ritter, who has guested in a number of TV shows.
Here's another (pen & ink) drawing of Tex along with fellow "B" western star "Wild" Bill Elliot.


Tuesday, December 08, 2015

Threefer Tuesday: Audrey Hepburn!

In the category of "Endlessly enjoyable to draw" here are a couple of Audrey Hepburns. 
Also fun to draw: Katherine Hepburn. But not for today.


Monday, December 07, 2015

Mondays suck - funny work animals may help...

I go to far too many meetings and reviews at work - so in order to attempt to capture all the (sometimes necessary) information and direction that percolates from the mouths of the attendees, I carry around a notebook. Of course a good deal of the meetings have little or nothing to do with me, so I will frequently drift off and begin to draw strange little non-sequiter scenes. Sometimes they involve imagining co-workers as animals. just because, you know, why not...
Here's are two of those.


Sunday, December 06, 2015

Drawing from screen grabs

Drawing from old Hollywood publicity photos (I'm talking 30s & 40s old) from the Big Studios is always a great exercise, largely because the gorgeous black & white photography was so beautifully lit, so well crafted, that each image is a like a seminar in how to define the human form with lighting. The great photo portrait artists of the day like George Hurrell & Clarence Sinclair Bull created libraries of exquisite depictions of the royalty of old Hollywood that are admired and emulated still, and they're always fun to work from. Above is a drawing from a studio portrait of the character actor Edward Arnold (who frequently played evil industrialists in movies like Meet John Doe)
But with the various methods of streaming movie and TV content on computers and tablets (Watch TCM, HBO GO, Netflix, Amazon Prime, etc.) it makes it incredibly easy to draw from screen grabs from all sorts of programs, old and new. The thing I like about drawing from screen grabs is that you get to draw from equally well-lit shots of the Stars - usually with more expressions than just their glamour pose faces - but also you get to see the faces of the character actors and extras, also well lit and also with interesting faces and expressions.

The guy above is a good example - I have no idea what the actor's name is, but he played a bit part as a forlorn coachman sitting outside in the rain waiting for Greta Garbo in one of her silent films The Mysterious Lady. Random shot, but still a great face to draw, with strong lighting and expression.
Here's another character actor, named Frederick Worlock, from a Clark Gable/Joan Crawford movie called Strange Cargo - this actor shows up in a number of movies from the 30s, and has a fairly memorable face and presence - because I've watched it overandoverandover again, I recognized him from The Sea Hawk.
You can obviously draw the stars too - here's a sketch of Clark Gable emoting, probably from Dancing Lady, another Joan Crawford vehicle.
And again, from one of Joan Crawford's 30s dramas, a too-quick sketch of her that doesn't do her justice but is still a decent study I think.


Saturday, December 05, 2015

Messing around with Mr. Joker and ZBrush

Drafting off of yesterday's bevy of Batsketches, today is devoted to Batman's favorite arch-nemesis, the Joker.
Inspired (and tutored) by the estimable Mr. Dave Kertesz - http://davidkertesz.com/wp/ - (who I am incredibly fortunate to be able to work with every day) I took advantage of a Price Reduction! earlier this year and picked up a copy of ZBrush to try my hand and cursor at some 3D sculpting. (Massive disclaimer: I would not even begin to compare my paltry efforts in this medium to the incredible work that Dave does, by the way - please take a trip over to his site if you'd like to see real Brush mastery. Not just with sculpting but with texturing and lighting - the entire package) After some initial poking about - more on that in later posts - I dug out a Joker sketch I had done and started loosely following it as a guide for sculpting.
I should mention at this point there were more than a few other Joker inspirations rattling around my head as well - namely the Joker I Grew Up With, that is, the original creepy stylized clown-face version of Bob Kane/Dick Sprang -
- and the lovely action figure version that came out a couple of years ago from the Brave And The Bold TV series -
- and then of course there's Greg Capullo's mega-scary version of late...
 

Anyhow, that all fueled the ZBrush experimentation that you see below:
This was the first version I tried - which took me much longer to do than I care to document - and which, due to either A. some hiccup in my file backup setup or B. user error (I'm gonna go out on a limb and choose B.) I subsequently lost. The image above is a screen grab.
Irked but undaunted, (Oh the cursing. You would have thought the fleet was in town.) I started again, and this was the result when I called it a day. Or three - I forget.
For an early foray into a new tool I was marginally satisfied and much self back-patting ensued, but then almost instantly I realized how much more time and practice and coaching and tutorials I will need to invest in to get the better results I'm aiming for. So I continue to work at it and will post more ZBrush forays in subsequent posts.


Friday, December 04, 2015

Silly little Batman drawings

Usually when I can't think of anything else to draw I default to Batman.
Batman has always been my comic book hero of choice, ever since I was a TV & comics-obsessed eight or nine year old. At that age, I was mesmerized by the subtle creepiness of Bob Kane and Dick Sprang's drawings of the characters - I 

I was transfixed by his origin story, especially the way this page portrayed it -
- and most compelling thing about it for me was the center panels, and the idea that someone could build themselves into the individual they wanted to be. Sure I liked the Superman "benevolent visitor from another planet"story, and (like everyone else I knew) hoped against hope that a radioactive spider would bite me (and that it wouldn't hurt too much or get all grotesquely swollen) or that a truck carrying a shipment of (again) radioactive waste would cross my path and spritz me with just enough of that glowing goo to super-empower me...but Batman made himself Batman - and that was the part of it that I could relate to. Okay sure it didn't hurt that he had inherited untold wealth and never had to hold a day job, but still, it was an inspiring concept - the "self-made" superhero -  that somehow stuck with me.
But that doesn't mean I take him too seriously. Because the character has in recent years had to shoulder so much cultural gravitas, he's fun to poke fun at. And relatively easy to draw in an off moment. 
These are a few of the goofy Batman sketches that have wormed their way out of my head over the years - or at least the ones I'm willing to share...

 







Thursday, December 03, 2015

High Society in the Big City - Excerpt

In an attempt to explain why I'm mildly obsessed with drawing from photos of folks who comprise the socio-economic-proto-cultural strata known as "High Society" - a small sampling seen below - here's an excerpt of an essay I wrote a few years ago about my adventures as a suburban paperboy. (I know, I'm as guilty as anyone of shying away from too much written substance - emitting the inward groan as a response to the idea of reading anything more than a paragraph when there are videos of cats attacking babies to watch. Cats. Attacking babies for goddsake!) But if you're a voracious consumer of the written word this shouldn't take up too much of your time - please enjoy, or just look at the pictures, that'd be fine too. 

      Growing up in a prosperous suburb of a major metropolitan center meant I didn’t get to live in the actual Big City but still benefited from some of the cultural table scraps. I was close enough geographically that the Big City’s ripples gently jarred my little suburban boat and defined my journey in ways that were subtle yet undeniable.
The city I lived in was San Jose, but since it still had one big boot mired in agriculture it wasn’t yet considered much of an urban reality - it was still considered a suburb of the nearby Big City, San Francisco. San Jose had a downtown of it’s own, with a courthouse and banks and various office buildings, but it still had the dusty patina of a farm town center. It was still the Santa Clara Valley, The Valley of Heart’s Delight, and the drowsy downtown was appropriately small and low key in scale. It would still be a couple of decades before it was affixed with the insidious Silicon Valley moniker.
San Jose had it’s own legitimate newspapers, the Mercury in the morning - which my parents read religiously - and the News in the afternoon, which nobody I knew personally would admit to reading. My family had always read a paper in the morning the way God intended, and that meant the News was never considered.
The real city, the Big City, San Francisco, also had two newspapers - there was the morning Chronicle and the afternoon Examiner. No one in my family beginning with my grandfather had ever considered the Examiner to be much of a newspaper. Even though my grandparents were horribly bigoted snobs, their disdain wasn’t based on the fact that Hearst papers had once been the voice of choice for vast roiling multitudes of “dirty immigrants”. Nor was their aversion to the paper based on some ancient intellectual or political grudge against old Mr. Hearst’s evil ways - it was the Examiner’s afternoon status that sunk it’s chances like the Maine in Havana harbor.
That left the Chronicle.
There were plenty of people in our burgeoning suburb who read the Big City Chronicle. The reason I knew this was because I was their morning Paperboy. I was the unseen agent who put their paper on the porch every day for two years, rain or shine, while they slept.
As anxious as I am to describe how I delivered the paper each morning, I must digress just long enough to explain my product a bit more. Any good businessman should know and believe in their product, and I was no exception.
I liked the Chronicle. It had the sleek heft of sophistication, compared to the corn fed girth of the Mercury. Before I delivered it I would only see it on the occasions when we visited the aforementioned Grandparents. They had money, and lived closer to the Big City then we did. Needless to say they had no use for the provincial rag from the farm colony we inhabited. When we’d go to visit them, usually on a Sunday, I’d always take a look at their Chronicle. I liked their gothic-type masthead, and the little eagle whose wings spread below the title. I liked the sans-serif no nonsense urgency of the headlines, and I liked the comics page.
Whereas the Mercury seemed to favor newer comics like Tumbleweeds and Broom Hilda, the Chronicle stuck with the old world stalwarts, like Dick Tracy and Little Orphan Annie. I liked Broom Hilda just fine, but there was something strange and historically compelling about Blondie and Prince Valiant and the weirdly noir Steve Roper and Mike Nomad. I doubt that I ever laid eyes on Steve Roper – to this day I wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a comics lineup - the adventures, which felt vaguely and belatedly WWII-related, always seemed to spin off and around the gruff, crewcut Mike Nomad. Mike Nomad was either a photojournalist or a soldier of fortune, I could never figure which, but I followed him daily for years, mildly addicted and trying to keep up with him.

The Chronicle was also full of Big City shenanigans, most of which had no direct bearing on my life, but to me it reeked of Big City excitement and Big City culture. Since the City had actual professional sports franchises, the paper had a good sports page, the whole section of which they printed on dyed green newsprint and called The Sporting Green. Other than the rather vague grass connection, I didn’t fully understand the point, but it seemed really sophisticated to me at the time. The Chronicle was big on dyeing sections of their paper. The Sunday Datebook section with all the arts and entertainment news was nicknamed the Pink Section because, decades before San Francisco was a haven for the gay population of the world, they actually dyed the newsprint pink.

The Chronicle was the paper of Herb Caen, Stanton Delaplane, and the Society page. The Society page fascinated me, with its flash photography frozen rictus shots of the Very Wealthy at their expensive parties. There was no earthly reason a preteen hetero kid in the suburbs should have any recognition of the names Pat Montandon or Wilkes Bashford or Charlotte Maillard, but I did, because I could never tear my eyes away from their pictures when they appeared in the Society page. Occasionally the women in the photos were actually pretty, as when there was some young debutante event, but even then the images shone with the glaze of the grotesque. There was always the slightest tinge of desperation in the eyes, a bit more whites above the pupils than you’d expect. Ready for their close-ups, all.

I didn’t know who they were or what they did apart form all the events they attended. Galas, endless Galas - The Opera, the Black and White Ball, the Symphony, the De Young Museum Benefits, and all the other Galas. I looked at their pictures with a blend of puzzlement and envy that was laced with a curiously generous helping of loathing. These people seemed so unnecessary, so useless to regular folks like me and mine; yet here they were with their toothy mugs in the paper every couple of days.
The Mercury had a Society page with occasional pictures too, but it was too dully civic-minded, too earnestly responsible to be interesting to me. They were always cutting the ribbon on some new shopping center or housing development or bowling alley. Even I could see it was usually somehow associated with commerce instead of The Arts, and that made it low and base in my eyes. The people in the pictures always looked like chunky hayseeds compared with the bony-sleek cultural Movers and Shakers in the Chronicle. The San Jose crowd was a bunch of goofy, preening amateurs - even I knew it - and I was slightly embarrassed for them and for San Jose in general.


I knew my parents read the San Jose Mercury because it had all the news that pertained to their San Jose lives. Unlike me they liked San Jose, and they liked reading the Mercury. But I also think my parents didn’t want to be reminded every day of their former swinging life in Baghdad By The Bay. They were suburban parents now. They went to church and had a mortgage and a station wagon. Gone were the days of cocktails at Ernies, or cocktails at the Tonga Room, or cocktails at the Top of the Mark. They still had cocktails every night of course, but now the only bar they closed every night was the one on my little brother’s crib.

Wednesday, December 02, 2015

Victor

Don't look behind you, but there's little Victor, lurking and watching...
Do ya like moodycreepyatmospheric television programs that introduce all kinds of characters with all kinds of mysterious otherworldly situations and then sort of resolves some of the mysteries but sort of leaves a lot of them still on the table? The 2012 French series The Returned (or Les Revenants) does an excellent job of just that on all counts. While the last episode was a tiny bit anti-climactic, the buildup is brilliantly unsettling and genuinely creepy. There are some atmospheric and even plot similarities to HBO's/Damon Lindelof's continually astonishing The Leftovers, though with perhaps a bit less substance.
If you've seen The Returned, you'll recognize poor little Victor. But is Victor a victim or a villain? You should probably watch to make that determination for yourself - Netflix has it,  just sitting there waiting for you to binge.
HOLY SHIT! There he is again, over in the corner! Jeez Victor I, uh, didn't hear you come in - have you been there the whole time little guy?

Tuesday, December 01, 2015

Twofer Tuesday: Kirk Douglas!


Kirk Douglas is eternally fun to draw - from his his impossible chin to his constant steely intensity, seemingly on the verge of cracking every molar or shredding his throat with every line he delivers - Kirk Douglas was a pioneer, way ahead of his time in Hollywood.
Some of his films you need to see (if you already haven't already): 
Ace in the Hole (Directed by the incomparable Billy Wilder), Spartacus (written by blacklisted writer Dalton Trumbo, who Douglas insisted on hiring and then very publicly stated that he had done so, quite effectively beginning the process of ending the blacklist for once and for all. Oh yeah and directed by Stanley Kubrick),
Lust For Life (effectively capturing Vincent Van Gogh's conflicted artistic and emotional turmoil unlike anyone before or since) Paths of Glory (Kubrick again - a searing indictment of the insanity and arrogance of the first World War), 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (Disney does Jules Verne), Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (playing Doc Holliday to Burt Lancaster's Wyatt Earp, with none of that sappy "Huckleberry" nonsense), Town Without Pity, Lonely Are The Brave, The Bad and the Beautiful, the list goes on and on...
Watch any of these iconic performances and you'll see why Kirk Douglas is an icon, and also - all due respect - why Michael Douglas is good, but not Kirk good.
BTW - the reason Michael Douglas is one of the Producers of the film One Flew Under the Cuckoo's Nest is that Kirk Douglas held the rights for the film version of Ken Kesey's book. Kirk had hoped to one day play McMurphy on the big screen (and OMG what an amazing thing to behold that would have been! Read the description of McMurphy in the book and you will not picture Jack Nicholson, but you could totally see Kirk in the role, in his prime...) but by the time Hollywood was ready to fund and make the film Kirk was too old to play McMurphy, so he gave the project to Michael. 

Monday, November 30, 2015

Keef and the Blackwing

Back when I was still at Kabam, my friend, the incredibly talented and generous Erik Chichester, gave me a Blackwing pencil -http://palominobrands.com/blackwing/, saying it was his favorite pencil to draw with and that I should for crying out loud stop dicking around with Carmine red and Indigo blue Prismacolors and use a real graphite pencil! (He was much nicer about it of course) I had been in a bit of a drawing tools rut with those two particular drawing sticks. (I had used a Blackwing years before, when I was a callow art student and could barely draw a human hand, and years before I could draw a paycheck). So I thanked him sincerely and took the pencil and placed it in a place of honor - an old coffee cup I keep my "fully intend to use all of these sometime real soon"drawing tools in. And there it sat, pristine and unsullied by sharpening.
And it kept sitting in there, its pure white replaceable eraser and its matte black sheath taunting me and calling me all sorts of unflattering names until finally I picked it up and sharpened it, just to silence the pesky pencil. Okay, it was pretty heavenly drawing experience. Velvety line texture and a delicate but broad tonal range. I liked it and began to use it constantly. Then I went to Comic-Con and bought a whole box of the damn things - something wonderfully inspiring and hopeful about a whole BOX of pristine pencils!
So most of the sketchbook stuff I've been perpetrating recently has been with the Blackwing - I highly recommend it as a tool. 
Here's a relatively recent effort: Mr. Keith Richards, musician and pirate dad. 

Sunday, November 29, 2015

Elaan of Troyius

Star Trek TOS - The alluring France Nuyen played the seductive princess whose tears have the power to make a slobbering love slave out of Captain Kirk - temporarily of course, because his only true love is the starship Enterprise. Duh.
France Nuyen was a popular actress throughout the 60's - frequently referred to as "an exotic beauty" because of her French/Vietnamese heritage - she co-starred in films like South Pacific, Diamond Head, Battle for the Planet of the Apes and The Joy Luck Club, and such TV shows as Gunsmoke, The Man From U.N.C.L.E., Hawaii Five-O, Kung Fu, and Charlie's Angels.
But what was really impressive about her was that, after a long career as an actress, she earned a master's degree in clinical psychology. She began a second career as a psychological counselor for abused women and children, and women in prison.
Not bad - changing the course of her life in her mid-forties and making an actual positive difference in the world.  
Just do NOT let her tears get on you!

The Honorable Harold Stassen

Harold Stassen (April 13, 1907 - March 4, 2001) is mostly known as "That Guy Who Loves To Run For President". A native Minnesotan, Stassen ran for President of the U.S. of A. TEN TIMES between the years 1940 and 2000 (waging his last campaign at the age of 92!). He never won of course - never even won the Republican Nomination - but he did hold more than one legitimate offices nonetheless. He was the Governor of Minnesota, the Director of the U.S. Foreign Operations Administration (under Ike) and the President of the University of Pennsylvania, to name a few. He also served in the Navy during WWII under Adm. Wm. "Bull" Halsey.
So here's to perseverance - and the belief that you can by god do anything you wanna. 
And that its never too late. (once your student loans are mostly paid off)
And that maybe you're not crazy after all, with your cockamamie dreams...

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Humphrey & Betty


BECAUSE NO ONE ASKED FOR IT:
The return of Blog of Jim!
I have to credit and thank my friend and colleague, the supremely talented and prolific Karla Ortiz http://www.karlaortizart.com - for reminding me of how powerful and elegant a tool the lowly pencil is.
About a year and a half ago a couple of pals and I were at Monsterpalooza, and I ran into Dawn Carlos http://dawncarlosart.com - at a booth she was working for the other worldly Allen Williams -http://www.allenwilliamsstudio.com - Dawn was nice enough to invite me to a gallery show that very evening featuring pencil work of Allen's, Karla's and a handful of other amazing artists, including the phenomenal Sooey Milk - http://milkbomb.blogspot.com. In addition to catching up with Karla, I got all mesmerized by the beautiful, ethereal works of nothing but pencil on the walls. I've always defaulted to pencil drawings as my medium of expression of choice, but this show gently whacked me in the back of my head and re-starting my respect for the wonders of graphite.
So, in realizing that I've been keeping sketchbooks for so long that I have this backlog of (mostly) Moleskines filled with drawings and sketches and weird little ideas, there was no reason not to start posting them - I think I figured that if I posted just one drawing a day I could annoy people for at least until the end of Trump's first term in office - so in a way that decision pretty much made itself.
The drawings I got tons of - mostly pencil, but some pen and ink, and maybe even some paintings - those are the easy part - its the accompanying writing that I'll have to work on. I'll need to overcome the dreaded Lazy Brain Syndrome in order to make this blog something you'll want to visit more than once or twice. So please do visit once or twice and if you see anything you like feel free to re-post it and send others here.
Thanks!




Friday, September 10, 2010

Sad For Norma


How could I not contribute to the sublime silliness of the meme
http://saddondraper.tumblr.com/

Friday, April 02, 2010

Richard Nixon: Bad President!

January 20, 1969 – August 9, 1974, almost two terms

In terms of the Worst U.S. Presidents in history, for a long time in my estimation, Nixon was the one. He was elected President when I was twelve years old. My parents were big Nixon fans, which at the time I just accepted without judgment or opinion, because Presidents were not the stuff of children. I became more and more aware of the outcry against Nixon, because I read the paper every day and watched All In The Family, but I had no reason or stimulus to have an opinion different than my parents yet. It wasn’t until I was a High School freshman, with Nixon still occupying the Oval Office, that I found myself in a U.S. History class with a young firebrand teacher who did have an opinion and wasn’t shy about sharing it. Every day Mr. Coleco would give a spirited lecture about some aspect of U.S. History, both from the distant dusty past and the confusing present. He made it clear to those of us listening exactly what was going on in Washington with the Watergate Scandal and the Hearings. I liked Mr. Coleco, because he talked to us as if we were adults, and he had a sense of humor, so suddenly I had an opinion about Nixon: he was a crook!

When Nixon resigned the White House in disgrace in August of ’74, my family was on an East Coast vacation. The day he made his farewell speech we were staying in a hotel in Erie, Pennsylvania. "Therefore, I shall resign the Presidency effective at noon tomorrow...” Even through the crushing shame and disappointment that my parents were feeling, as well as what felt to me like the epic historical implications of the event, inwardly I was celebrating it as a victory for Democracy, or at least what I understood of it from listening to Mr. Coleco. For years afterward I thought of Nixon as a Bad President – certainly the worst I had experienced, an opinion I clung to even during the baffling years of Reagan, and was unshaken until W. subjected us to eight years of his scabrous, lawbreaking, condescending, intellectually challenged, train wreck of a presidency. I still get slightly queasy thinking about what he and his rat fink buddies did to this country.

Nowadays, with the softening of intervening years, it’s clear to me that one can, but shouldn’t judge Nixon’s presidency solely based on the power crazed behavior of his that led to Watergate. He actually achieved a great deal, for a crook – and a Republican crook at that! There are some historians who, whether they think Nixon was a “Good” President or a “Bad” President, believe he was one of the greatest Presidents of the 2oth Century, and you can’t dispute that, unlike many of the mooks on my list, he certainly did a lot, “good” and “bad”.

The stuff you could praise: Nixon opened the giant doors of diplomacy and trade with China – a stunning feat for the period, and he worked with the Soviets to craft the first Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty and the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty and initiate détente – even more amazing because Nixon had historically been so virulently anti-communist and all. (He once referred to Helen Gahagan Douglas, his opponent during the contentious 1950 Senate race as “Pink right down to her underwear”, apparently unaware of the inadvertent genital impression it evoked. Douglas retaliated by referring to Nixon as “Tricky Dick”, apparently intentionally utilizing the genital innuendo. Atta girl!) He eventually got us out of Vietnam and brought American troops home from Southeast Asia. He increased Social Security spending, advocated affirmative action programs for racial minorities, launched a broad environmental initiative, ended conscription (one year before I would have been eligible for the draft – Thank You Tricky Dick!), and was surprisingly progressive in his approach to handling inflation and unemployment.

Why else would Noam Chomsky himself remark that, in some respects, Nixon was "the last liberal president."? At his non-power drunk core, Nixon believed in using government wisely to benefit all and actually supported the idea of practical liberalism.

The stuff, aside from Watergate, that wasn’t so good: Nixon dealt too harshly with anti-war protesters while he approved and then expanded a covert bombing campaign in Cambodia, (some 20,000 American soldiers died while Nixon was in office, not to mention countless Southeast Asians) appointed several conservative Supreme Court judges, cut funds to NASA programs (we coulda had a base on the MOON!), and one has to say, on the uber-negative side, he could be considered one of the chief architects of the modern Republican party.

In spite of the self-rehabilitation efforts Nixon undertook in the years after his disgrace and resignation, the predominant historical image (and certainly my own) of Nixon was negative. He had made a lot of enemies during his political career, and politicians have long memories. Here are two quotes about Nixon from Democratic leaders from different generations:

"Richard Nixon is a no-good lying bastard. He can lie out of both sides of his mouth at the same time, and if he ever caught himself telling the truth, he'd lie just to keep his hand in." Harry S Truman

Ouch! (No disrespect intended, but when I read that quote, I try to hear it in Truman’s voice, which to me always sounded a lot like a cross between Pat Paulsen and Elmer Fudd)

"In 200 years of history, he's the most dishonest president we've ever had. I think he's disgraced the presidency." Jimmy Carter

(Now there are some who would argue that Carter was so ineffective as President that he would have no right to criticize. But Carter was above all, an honest man, a moral man – two traits he held as important attributes for a politician. While realizing that Carter was ultimately not a very good President, I like and respect him, and the added fact that he was also someone who knew history, and took it’s lessons seriously would cause me to believe his assessment of Nixon.)

So ultimately Nixon, like all “Bad” Presidents, is a bit of a mixed bag. This entire exercise has been a clear indication of the importance of embracing the Gray. Very little in the world, or indeed in history, is black or white. It’s the nuances in the vast middle Gray that make it so interesting.

Fun Facts: As a student, Nixon was known as Gloomy Gus. A great synonym for that is “Picklepuss”, which personally I think is more applicable here.

Nixon was the first president to visit all 50 states. Apropos of nothing, much like the Fun Fact that Nixon’s second Secretary of Agriculture was Earl Butz. Huh huh! “Butz”

Nixon was in Dallas on the day that John F Kennedy was shot. Conspiracy theorists: discuss.

And, most awesome of all: In 1970, Elvis Presley, more than likely fairly buzzed on painkillers, visited the White House to talk about drugs – and gave Nixon a gold revolver as a gift a gun which he somehow had managed to get past the Secret Service detail that guarded the President.