My dad was born in 1914. Four years later, his mother died in the influenza epidemic, eight months pregnant at the time. He grew up in difficult circumstances, but, somehow along the way, he learned to draw, and earned a living, post-high school, painting signs on the inside of store windows. As he thought about his future, he took a civil service test. A short while later, word of his ability reached this fellow Disney who
suggested he move west and join his fledgling operation, when the Postal Service informed him that they, too, had a real job for him. It was an easy decision in those times, and, 35 years later he retired from what was then the USPS. My dad was an officer of the Brooklyn NY postal union, edited the union paper (I still have the plates of the cartoons he drew for it), and fought long and hard for better wages, as he worked two, and sometimes three, jobs. His efforts earned him a security investigation during the McCarthy era.
When I was in the Army, in SE Asia in the 1960's, every day's mail (for 18 months) contained a multi-colored message and drawing from him.
Every time I encounter a drawing from Fred Plewa, and now, Will Gunadi, I think of him.
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