A Saturday with Jim

I drew this as part of a story I wrote for The Cincinnati Enquirer in 2021, celebrating the 30th anniversary of Jim Borgman’s Pulitzer Prize win. Fun fact: Jim doesn’t draw with a dip pin. He uses a brush. But a brush didn’t read as “cartoony” so I changed it to the pen.

On occasion I get to do cool things. One such occasion happened last weekend, when I got to watch one of my childhood art heroes geek out over priceless cartoon art.

This past weekend Jim Borgman, the former Cincinnati Enquirer editorial cartoonist, gave a talk in Dayton, Ohio, hosted by the Great Lakes Chapter of the National Cartoonists Society. I was invited to a private luncheon with other cartoonists and illustrators, where Jim and his writing partner, cartoonist Jerry Scott, who joined us by Zoom, regaled us with tales about the creation of their long-running cartoon strip, Zits. That was followed by a public program where Jim and Jerry again talked about Zits, but with a lot less cartoon jargon.

Jim talking during the public portion of the event. On the screen is the model sheet turnaround for Walt Duncan, a character in Zits. Also on screen is Zits writer and co-creator Jerry Scott, who joined in via Zoom.

Just going to the luncheon and talk would have been enough to make my day. I got to visit and catch up with friends and colleagues, such as C.F. Payne, Jerry Dowling, Frank Pauer, and my brother from another mother, graphic novelist Wes Molebash, while also getting the chance to meet other cartoonists from around the region. I felt like Norm walking into Cheers as I was greeted by the cartoonists I knew and happily introduced to those I didn’t.

But I can’t truly describe how it felt when Jim came over, sat down, and asked, “How’s it going, brother?”

Jim Borgman is my favorite cartoonist. He has been since I was a kid. As someone who always had a pencil or crayon in his hand, making marks on paper, it was a gift growing up and seeing Jim’s cartoons on a daily basis in the newspaper. Obviously I’m biased because he was my hometown cartoonist. But it goes much deeper than that. Jim’s work — his line quality, his characters, his compositions, and the heart he put into his cartoons — just feel right.

As a kid I would send Jim my drawings, and he’d write back with critiques and encouragement. During one visit to downtown Cincinnati I when I was 14 or 15 I wandered away from my parents, made my way up to the Enquirer’s newsroom, and sat in Jim’s office, ambushing him when he returned from lunch. (A few years later, as an intern during my first stint at the Enquirer, Jim asked if I was the kid who’d show up in his office, and I sheepishly admitted I was.)

Jim always lent his support when it came to my career. While my nine years drawing cartoons for WCPO-TV and, later, The Cincinnati Enquirer, pale in comparison to Jim’s 32 years at the Enquirer, it was still an honor to follow in his footsteps as a cartoonist in our shared hometown. I honestly don’t know Jim that well, but I do know how special it is to have had someone of Jim’s caliber in my corner, and I still get a thrill when he sends a text or message complimenting one of my cartoons.

To this day I look at Borgman drawings and think they’re magic. I’ve got his books and prints and even an original or two, and have spent countless hours just studying them. When a kid at the Dayton talk asked Jim who his influences were, Wes and I, lurking in the back, joked that the kid should have asked the question to us.

We both would have just pointed to the guy behind the microphone.

After the event, Jim and I were invited to take a gander at a private cartoon collection. I am not going to say much about the collection, because I want to respect the owners’ privacy and safety. I will say I saw pieces that, to me, are the equivalent of the Mona Lisa. I described one piece to my wife as the cartoon equivalent of a personalized song written and performed by John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

The real treat for me, though, was watching Jim geek out over the artwork and techniques of legendary cartoonists. We cartoonists love to talk shop, because at the end of the day we love drawing, and we love seeing how others draw. There’s a big difference between politely blowing smoke up someone’s ass when looking at their artwork and saying their drawing is good, and honing in on and dissecting a professional’s technique and style. When we’re truly analyzing artwork, you’ll hear us go in deep over hatching and line weight and materials and color. We’ll pick out weird details that might not seem significant to civilians, but to us shows mastery over the art form. (For instance, Wes and I had a whole conversation about how Jim draws shoes.)

There was a moment where I stood right behind Jim as he closely examined an ink illustration by Windsor McCay. I heard him softly say “Oh, my God!” a few times has he got nose to nose with the drawing. I’ll leave it to you to suss out why two former Cincinnati Enquirer cartoonists examining an original McCay felt significant. But in that moment I tangibly felt I was a (small) part of a connected legacy that stretched back over a century.

Like I said above, I occasionally get to do cool things. As a cartoonist and a Cincinnatian, I can’t think of anything more cool than that.