Storyland: The Poky Little Puppy, Tootle, & Others
While Popeye was telling children to eat their spinach, children’s books of the period, particularly before and during the war, upheld high morals through thinly disguised lessons taught to puppies and trains. The literature of the time sharpened children’s minds (the vocabulary level was high compared to today’s) and the stories always pointed out that good was rewarded and bad was punished.
The Poky Little Puppy
The classic, The Poky Little Puppy, is the tale of a troupe of puppies who, after escaping their pen, enjoy adventures together frolicking in the field. As a result of their naughtiness, they lose their dessert—rice pudding, chocolate custard, and strawberry shortcake. (The thought of puppies consuming such sweets during wartime sugar rationing in 1942 must have been unbelievable to adults.) Poky has sold fifteen million copies since its publication, and as one of the original twelve Little Golden Books, has become an icon of children’s literature. Despite the critics seeking to underrate its importance to Americana by dubbing it an “escapist” piece of literature, it has excelled as the top-selling children’s book of all time.
Poky was written by Janette Sebring Lowrey, who was born in Texas in the late 1800s. Her most famous book, The Poky Little Puppy, was published on New Year’s Day when she was fifty years old. She died in 1986.
The illustrator, Gustaf Tenggren, was Swedish-American. He was raised on his grandfather’s remote Swedish farm. When a young man, he came to America, where by age twenty-five he was established as a successful artist. Moving to Hollywood, Tenggren helped the foundling Walt Disney Company bring to life its early animated features by working on Snow White (1937), as well as Pinochio (1940) and Bambi (1942). Soon after leaving the company, he illustrated The Poky Little Puppy. Tenggren’s illustrations are done in great, thick splotches of color—mostly reds, greens, and browns. They are more folksy than realistic, but they are lively and playful.
The Little Stone House
The Little Stone House is the charming story of an ordinary family, the Does. “They lived in a small apartment in a big city,” the book begins. Their apartment is much too small, so they decide to build their own house. The book was written and illustrated by Berta and Elmer Hader (who jointly worked on over seventy children’s books, from the late 1920s through the 1960s). It is a story that epitomizes the American hardworking, can-do spirit.
Berta and Elmer were married in 1919, as soon as Elmer returned from serving overseas in the first world war. They set up residence in New York City as did most artists of the time. Mrs. Hader had previously done fashion illustrations for newspapers, as well as portrait miniatures. Mr. Hader created the artwork for dust jackets (one of which was John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath). Before long, the Haders decided to build their own home. The Little Stone House is their story, for just as the Does observed stone-masons at work, bought a seemingly useless property, and rounded up friends and neighbors to help them build, so did the Haders. “When their house was built,” recalled their niece, Joy Hoerner Rich, “the first thing they decided to do was to add on.”
For The Little Stone House, the illustrations are comical, with an endearing, whimsical touch. They are bright and pleasant, though not necessarily neat and tidy.
The book was published in 1944, when an Allied victory, at least in Europe, was nearly certain. There is much in the book which makes obvious the fact that there was “still a war on.” For one thing, there is a very noticeable absence of any young men, who are all off at war. Mrs. Doe is seen doing her part by mending. For the Thanksgiving Day meal, there are no butter dishes on the table. And the Does drive a late 1930s car model. Nineteen-forties culture is also apparent. The family dog looks a lot like F.D.R.’s Fala. Mrs. Doe looks similar to Rosie the Riveter; and Dottie could just as well be Margaret O’Brien.
Tootle
Tootle has been rated No. 3 on a list of all-time best-selling children’s books. Since its first publication in 1945, it has not once been out of print.
The illustrator was Tibor Gergley, a Hungarian born at the turn of the century. The fact that he was Jewish led to his moving to the United States in 1939, in order to escape the darkening political situation in Europe. He settled in New York, and shortly became enchanted with the fast excitement of American city life. Gergley would eventually illustrate several of the Little Golden Books, inlcuding, of course, Tootle.
Gergley’s toylike, whimsical pictures feature pudgy, energetic people. His Tootle is a lovable train who twists joyfully across the pages.
The author, Gertrude Crampton, hailed from Brooklyn. She was in her thirties when she penned the adventures of Tootle the train. She lived until 1996.
It is no surprise that the subject of this children’s book is a train. In the 1940s, trains were culturally, economically, and symbolically important. They were endlessly featured in songs (Chattanooga Choo Choo, Atchison Topeka & Santa Fe, Freedom Train), as well as being the classic child’s toy. Trains provided the foremost form of transportation during this time. In 1942 alone, 45,000 passenger cars were chugging along the railroad lines, carrying 650 million bustling passengers annually. And in a 13-month period during the war, 11 million soldiers kissed their wives and sweethearts goodbye at the depots before being transported in troop trains. “Our railroads are one of our finest examples of free enterprise,” beamed one article of the era.
But another significant aspect of Tootle is the moral involved. “The school of Lower Trainswitch was a fine school for engines,” reads the book, and most of all it taught its pupils the importance of “Staying on the Rails No Matter What.” Tootle, however, is overcome with the desire to play off the tracks. Finnaly he is taught a lesson that shows him the profit of staying on the tracks, and the book ends with young locomotives of the next generation listeing to Tootle’s sage advice. Naturally, the book’s statement is that duty and dilligence—“Staying on the Rails No Matter What”—bring their own reward.
Too Many Kittens
This 1947 children’s book is the story of a little girl, Susie, who finds herself in the predicament of her pet cat’s having too many kittens, therefore forcing Susie to find homes for them before she and her family leave their summer residence and return to the city. Susie solves the problem by giving away the kittens to her parent’s boarders. (Boarders were still common in post-war America, since the housing shortage was just wearing off.)
Both through the words and pictures, we can easily feel that this is a post-war setting. The Judge can afford to smoke cigars. Catnip, which would have been thought of as a frivolty during the war years, is now included in the grocery sack. Susie’s father, who we imagine must have recently returned from the war, has gained a little weight on home cooking. Last but not least, the cook is seen slicing a three-layer chocolate cake, a reminder that sugar rationing had long been lifted and chocolate was no longer that horrible waxy imitation.
Harry Lees offers illustrations that are effortlessly classic and sophisticated, yet realistically approached. The pictures, as smooth and wholesome as buttermilk, are colored prettily in pinks, yellows, and blues. Lees has the Rockwellian touch in creating attractive pictures with characters wearing true-to-life expressions.
Helen Hoke wrote the story in such a way as to make us root for Susie, and frown with the little girl over her problems. Hoke wrote nearly 100 books for children and young people. She initially focused on humor, including such tales as The Fuzzy Kitten (1941) and The Horse that Took the Milk Around (1946). However, in the following decades, Hoke made a dramatic turn from her wholesome, captivating books to write horror stories, for which she became famous. Helen Hoke would later succumb to pnuemonia, dying at age eighty-six.
Blueberries for Sal
When he wrote and illustrated Blueberries for Sal, Robert McCloskey had not the faintest idea of how famous it would become. It would be included in a “Top 100 Picture Books” poll (2012), win a Caldecott Medal, and be translated into various languages (including Japanese, Chinese, Hebrew, and French). And in 1967, Weston Woods Studios made Blueberries for Sal into a short film.
McCloskey grew up in Ohio, but lived mostly in Maine. In high school he taught hobby classes at a Y.M.C.A., directing soap-carving and model-airplane assembly. His favorite pastimes were inventing, music (he played the drums, harmonica, piano, and oboe), and wood-carving. McCloskey published his first book, Lentil, in 1940, the same year that he married a children’s librarian, Miss Margaret Durand. When WWII came, he joined the Army, where as a technical sergeant he drew illustrations for training manuals.
McCloskey published Blueberries for Sal in 1948 when he was thirty-four. He was living in Maine at the time, thus the setting. The little girl in the story he named after his eldest daughter, Sal. When the book was first on the market, it was selling for only two dollars.
In keeping with the theme of the story, McCloskey chose to illustrate the book in blueberry-colored ink. As usual, he drew his people with button noses, tousled hair, and rumpled clothing. His pictures have a sketch-like, yet realistic quality.
Christian Science Monitor praised the book, saying that “a fresh breath of country air seems to blow through the book” (1948). New Republic decided that “it has just enough hint of danger to be exciting but maintain good feelings” (1948).
Photograph credits—CHILDREN READING: wikipedia; POKY LITTLE PUPPY: vintagebooksfortheveryyoung.blogspot; TENNGREN: gustaftenngren.com; HADERS: bookstellyouwhy; LITTLE STONE HOUSE: nyacknewsandviews; GERGLEY: pinterest; TOOTLE: rubylane; TOO MANY KITTENS: pinterest; MCCLOSKEY: readingtoknow; BLUEBERRIES FOR SAL (2): thebookchildren.
During World War II, this song’s simple words would remind more than one soldier of a friend or two who had not been able to make it back home.