At Norman Rockwell Museum exhibit, Janice Harvey finds a balm for a 'Mad' world
It’s been said that holding the office of the U.S. presidency ages a person. One look at before-and-after photos of Barack Obama is proof: his hair went white overnight. Let me add that electing a president ages the country’s citizens as well. I feel like Methuselah right about now, and there’s still four months to go.
Like many voters who have decided to support democracy over the impending doom of dictatorship, I watched the presidential debate with fingers crossed, only to develop heartburn five minutes into the event. There were no winners. This was not a debate. I muted the TV when Donald Trump spoke, and used closed captioning to avoid the sound of his voice. Sadly, I didn’t need to mute President Biden; he arrived pre-muted and remained so throughout an excruciating 90 minutes. I went to bed worried.
In the morning, I headed with friends to Stockbridge, to soothe my soul by visiting the Norman Rockwell Museum. From the moment we climbed into the Jeep we let loose our frustrations regarding the debate. We were verklempt. It would make for a long ride. Once in Stockbridge, I felt my mood improve, thanks to Alfred E. Neuman. I’d been waiting months for an exhibit to open at the museum and I wasn’t disappointed. “The Art and Humor of Mad Magazine” opened June 8 and runs through Oct. 27, and it proved to be the balm that would help me heal from the pummeling my senses took the night before.
More:Beyond the folk festival: Taking a family vacation in Newport, Rhode Island
More:Last Call: Artist Katie Goldstone finds meaning and creative media in the abstract
I’ve long been a rabid fan of Mad. My older brother tossed me a copy when I was around 8 years old, and ever since, I’ve adored the magazine’s irreverence and ink-stained anarchy. Mad has always been an equal opportunity poker of fun, lambasting Democrats, Republicans, Communists, Socialists, celebrities and anyone else deserving of a lampoon. No one and nothing was above Mad’s marvelous eye for calling out the absurd.
Wandering through the exhibit, I was thrilled to revisit some of the best and funniest Mad issues, including jabs at everything from “The Sound Of Music” to the Halls of Congress. Mad took no prisoners, but for me, the satirical roasting was on equal footing with the amazing artwork that filled the pages. Among the many artists who created Mad’s best issues were Norman Mingo, Sergio Aragonés, Al Jaffee, Jack Davis — geniuses all.
The Mad exhibit offers original works of art and a gallery devoted to Mort Drucker, the caricaturist whose uncanny likenesses of the famous- and the infamous- were my Mad favorites. Drucker, whose work with Mad spanned five decades, captured nearly every notable mug from Kennedy and Kruschev to "Starsky & Hutch."
That’s when I came upon a display of Alfred E. Neuman’s presidential aspirations, and my heart sang. The iconic knucklehead who graced over 550 Mad covers “ran” for the highest office many times, always with the slogan: “What, Me Worry?”
Considering the sense of dread I was experiencing after the debate, Alfred’s gap-toothed grin and ridiculous air of confidence lifted me out of my funk. In the museum gift shop, where I could have easily blown threw a roll of dough on everything from playing cards to coffee mugs, I chose an “Alfred E. Neuman for President” pin.
Riding home, we tuned into Biden’s speech in North Carolina, where he delivered in a strong, clear voice his determination to remain President. On the campaign trail, Trump ranted about electric planes crashing on cloudy days.
What, me worry?