Word: dispatched
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...rival organs are. One the political Left the Kraken has waked and has begun to treat America with a half-dozen bright, new lollipops: literate, exciting journals of opinion. The older liberal publications, such as the New Republic and the Reporter, still engender consistent flashes of excellence; a single dispatch of Douglass Cater is worth more than the sum of Advance's recent efforts. Even the conscience of the primitive right, the National Review exudes professional slickness. Surely liberal Republicanism deserves as much. It is a creed that puzzles me, but it appeals to many, and probably it is good...
Kudos for the story on the Post-Dispatch's Bill Mauldin [July 21]. Although never known for its adaptability to new ideas, the Midwest can be proud of Dan Fitzpatrick's equally corrosive successor. Mauldin gives fair promise of adhering to Joseph Pulitzer's platform: "Always fight for progress and reform, never tolerate injustice or corruption, always fight demagogues of all parties...
Mauldin's originality hatches only after the most stringent of professional routines, of which the morning parboil is but a part. Four hours of preparation, four hours of execution go into each cartoon. Arriving at his cluttered Post-Dispatch office about 10 in the morning, Mauldin reads the freshly printed city edition for the current news. Within the hour, he has submitted, half anxiously, half belligerently, a rough pencil sketch of his idea to Editorial Page Editor Robert Lasch. The two have a smooth working relation. "Bob," says Mauldin, "is like a good cop, there to protect...
...over Europe. The G.I. could richly appreciate the saw-toothed irony of Mauldin's cartoons. In one, a dog-tired and shambling Joe guards the three equally exhausted Germans he has flushed from some bloody pocket of the war. Mauldin's caption, inspired by a news dispatch: "Fresh, spirited American troops, flushed with victory, are bringing in thousands of hungry, ragged, battle-weary prisoners." A cavalryman sadly administers the coup de grâce to a Jeep with a broken axle. Relaxed before battle, Willie angrily casts his eye on his buddy's unlovely countenance...
...from the lower right-hand corner so as not to smear his work, Mauldin generally has finished next day's cartoon by 6, personally escorts it to the engraving department ("I would never trust a copy boy with it") before "heading out for the Bismarck, a Post-Dispatch hangout, for a relaxing martini or two with friends. But his thoughts are never far from the job. His second wife Natalie, a Sarah Lawrence graduate whom Mauldin met at a Manhattan party after the war, has learned not to talk to Bill at bedtime, when his glazed eyes tell...