Youngsters who knew the late Winsor Zenic McCay at all remember him for his elaborate editorial cartoons in Sunday Hearstpapers. “Cartoons” they were in subject only. In workmanship, detail, and fantasy they suggested to some critics the exciting drawings of Gustave Dore. On such a Brisbanal theme as the triumph of Knowledge over Prejudice, Artist McCay could produce a startling half-page conception of titanic struggle.
Oldsters remember Winsor McCay less for his editorial drawings than for “Little Nemo,” whose Adventures in Slumberland were a high spot of Sunday comic supplements 25 years ago. Nemo was a sweet-faced little boy supposedly inspired by Artist McCay’s son Robert Winsor. He moved through a fabulous world of clouds and seas and palaces, drawn in delicate color. His companions, natives of Slumberland, were a lovely little Princess, daughter of King Morpheus; an officious, green-faced fellow named Flip who always wore a yellow top hat and held a long cigar between his huge lips; a grass-skirted savage named Impie. Last panel in every page showed Nemo at home, in bed, waking from his dream.
Nemo disappeared from the comic sections in 1913. This week he appears again in Manhattan and Chicago Hearstpapers, drawn by Son Robert Winsor McCay. At 38, R. Winsor McCay looks much less like the Nemo for which he was a model than like his late father, who died last summer at 62. Also like his father, he always wears his hat at work. Although his pen lacks the elder McCay’s magic for intricate background and breath-taking perspective, Son Winsor has faithfully copied the characters of Impie, Flip, the Princess, has made Nemo much sturdier, much more competent looking.
Oldtime Nemo-lovers, however, will miss the gentle conception of Slumberland. Instead of giving Nemo’s adventures the honest simplicity of a child’s dreams, Winsor Jr. has compromised with the “Buck Rogers” school of Jules Verne adventure. Thus the new series has Nemo accidentally shot sky-high from a circus cannon, takes him toward “another planet” where propeller-driven men called “gyro-scouts” broadcast news of his approach from their radio helmets. Flip & Impie fly out to meet him in an airplane.
“Hey, there, and how are you, Flip? Hey, Impie!” Nemo calls.
“Am I glad to see you, Pal!” shouts modernized Flip.
“Little Nemo is here, he’s back with us again—Hurrah!” cries a gyro-scout.
But for 1935’s juveniles, never a mention of Slumberland, never a hint of a dream.