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Student Paper
The Flapper in the Art of John Held, Jr.:
Modernity, Post-Feminism, and the Meaning of Women's Bodies
in 1920s Magazine Cover Illustration
Carolyn L. Kitch
Doctoral Student
Temple University
4001 Schoolhouse Lane
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania 17109
717-545-8576
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A paper submitted to the Visual Communication Division
of the Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication
for the 1997 Annual Conference in Chicago, Ill.
The Flapper in the Art of John Held, Jr.:
Modernity, Post-Feminism, and the Meaning of Women's Bodies
in 1920s Magazine Cover Illustration
Abstract
In the 1920s, the "flapper"--a symbol, then and now, of the "Jazz Age"--was
closely associated with the magazine illustration of John Held, Jr. An
examination of this imagery considers women's representation as a primary site
for the intersection of early-twentieth-century feminism, modernism, and
consumerism. It suggests that--during a pivotal decade in both women's history
and mass-media history--the progressive cultural construct of the "New Woman"
became commodified and contained in the flapper.
The Flapper in the Art of John Held, Jr.:
Modernity, Post-Feminism, and the Meaning of Women's Bodies
in 1920s Magazine Cover Illustration
In his memoirs, magazine humorist Corey Ford remembered the 1920s in terms of
its popular culture: "Fitzgerald christened it the Jazz Age, but John Held, Jr.
set its styles and manners. His angular and scantily clad flapper was . . . the
symbol of our moral revolution . . . . So sedulously did we ape his caricatures
that they lost their satiric point and came to be a documentary record of our
times."
In his time and in later decades, illustrator John Held, Jr. was credited with
creating the definitive image of the "flapper," a tall, thin, cartoonish young
woman preoccupied with dancing, drinking, and necking. Throughout the 1920s,
Held's flapper--usually accompanied by a gawky boy or a squat older
man--appeared on the covers of (and inside) national magazines, especially the
humor publication Life.
In actuality, this visual symbol represented the looks and lifestyle of only
some middle-class youth, yet she quickly came to stand for larger ideas. "By
the early 1920s," writes Held biographer Shelley Armitage, "his flapper was an
aesthetic ideal as a symbol of cultural change"; she stood for "what was free,
spontaneous, and bold about a culture in flux."
The fact that ideas about cultural change were encoded in the body of a woman
is significant, offering insights into American notions during this era about
womanhood, about modernity, and about mass media. By the 1920s, the "New
Woman," initially a political construct that signified real advances for women,
had become largely trivialized in the flapper. This symbol appeared widely
throughout popular culture of the decade, not only in Held's drawings, but also
in the movies and in novels. Moreover, she was more than a symbol: young women
dressed and acted in imitation of this new ideal, and the flapper became a
subject of debate in journalistic media.
This paper examines John Held's illustrations as, to borrow John Fiske's term,
a "cultural resource" from a complex era that saw both a backlash against
feminism and the maturing of mass culture. It reads these images as texts
within a public discourse about progress and as sites at which consumerist and
patriarchal ideologies intersected. The analysis begins with a description of
the Held flapper, offering specific examples, and then considers two cultural
uses of this image during the 1920s: its function as a symbol of modernism; and
its deployment in order to commodify American women's new "freedom."
The Image
The ideal of a tall, svelte, ornamental woman had appeared in American popular
culture as early as 1907, when Florenz Ziegfeld's towering "Ziegfeld Girls"
first paraded down staircases on the Broadway stage. By the 1920s, this
elongated body image, which connoted sophistication and smartness, was evident
as well in fashion illustrations, advertisements, and even depictions of actual
women, such as the actress Gertrude Lawrence and the aviatrix Amelia Earhart
(see Figures 1, 2, 3, and 4). Fast-living, smart-talking, worldly, sleekly-thin
young girls appeared in film (actress Clara Bow, nicknamed "the It girl," became
famous for playing such characters); on the covers of sheet music for songs
featuring "gals" and "hot mammas" (Figure 5); and in the fiction of F. Scott
Fitzgerald.
The flapper lived for leisure and never seemed to lack for money. Writing
about a hypothetical flapper in a 1925 issue of The New Republic, Bruce Bliven
described his subject as a 19-year-old girl with short hair, wearing a "brief"
dress and a great deal of makeup. Imagining her setting, he saw her "as she
strolls across the lawn of her parents' suburban home, having just put the car
away after driving sixty miles in two hours." This girl was triumphantly
"free," making her own daring choices about appearance, attitude, and behavior
"while from the sidelines to which he has been relegated mere man is vouchsafed
permission only to pipe a feeble Hurrah!"
The flappers John Held, Jr. drew for American magazine covers were a part of
this larger representational phenomenon, yet their style and tone were
distinctive. Held used the tall, thin body type--but transformed it from chic
to ridiculous. Held's flapper was a cartoon, a caricature of the New Woman who
was neither sophisticated nor smart; instead, she was self-absorbed and silly.
She was flat-chested and skinny, made up mainly of arms and legs, and she often
had an equally ridiculous-looking male in tow. She wore a sleeveless dress with
a short skirt and roll-top stockings that were usually falling down.
On most of the covers, the flapper's setting and behavior were explained
by a title, a clever phrase Held drew into each illustration. These words were
a form of (to use Roland Barthes' term) anchorage that limited the possible
meanings of the visual message, that helped viewers "to choose the correct level
of perception . . . to focus not simply [their] gaze but also [their]
understanding" of magazine illustration.
Some of Held's flappers were college students who cheered at football games and
whose boyfriends wore coonskin coats and carried hip flasks. Though his
depiction of girls in college reflected an actual upward trend in women's
enrollment, Held's campus flapper, whom he sometimes called "Betty Co-Ed," was
not the studious type. Jack Shuttlesworth, a contemporary of Held, described
her as a girl with "fingers snapping, feet jumping, troubled by nothing very
much except yesterday's hangover and tomorrow's heavy date."
Nor was she shy. She was loud, as suggested by the cheering flapper on the
November 19, 1925 Life cover titled "Hold 'Em," a phrase that no doubt referred
to both the football bame in progress and the girl's sagging stockings (Figure
6). She was immodest, like the girl shown lowering her bathing strap to check
for sunburn in front of her snickering male companion on another Life cover
titled "The Girl Who Gave Him the Cold Shoulder" (Figure 7).
She was at loose ends without a boyfriend, like "The Thinker," on Life's March
18, 1926 cover, all dressed up with no place to go--and nothing better to think
about than "Love Confessions" (Figure 8). Yet when she had a beau, she was
usually in charge of the relationship. It was the flapper who seemed to be
doing the proposing in the July 29, 1926 Life barnyard love scene, with its
title, "The Laughing Stock," presumably labeling the young man in the picture
(Figure 9). She was certainly the one winning the lover's quarrel, titled
"Where the Blue Begins" (under the man's eye!), on the April 7, 1923 cover of
Judge (Figure 10). Though positioned below her boyfriend on the golf course,
the flapper in "One Up, Two to Play" on Judge's June 30, 1923 cover also seemed
to be directing the action, considering the expression on the young man's face
(Figure 11, top left).
Other Held flappers were young society women. Some exhibited crude taste, such
as the girl about to swig whiskey from a bottle in "The Lass Who Loved a Sailor"
on Life's June 24, 1926 cover (Figure 11, bottom right). Most of the society
flappers, however, preferred champagne to gin and fit F. Scott's Fitzgerald's
description of his own female characters: "lovely and expensive and about
nineteen." Despite the elite lifestyles suggested by their clothing and
settings, these women were socially daring, smoking ("She Left Home Under a
Cloud," Figure 11, top right), bobbing their hair ("The Long and the Short of
It," Figure 12), and dancing to jazz (no title, August 1927; Figure 13).
Some society flappers, like those in "Sitting Pretty" (Figure 14) and "The Girl
Who Went for a Ride in a Balloon" (Figure 15), were posed in sexually suggestive
though awkward ways. Like their teenage counterparts, these women could be
physically abusive to men ("She Missed the Boat," Figure 16). And they could be
golddiggers, the clear implication of the titles and scenes of two Life covers
showing flappers with older, shorter, bald men: "She Missed the Boat" and
"Teaching Old Dogs New Tricks" (Figure 17).
On a surface (but not insignificant) level, the latter two illustrations made
an unflattering suggestion about young society women's motives in the 1920s. On
another level, they offer examples of the symbolic use of a woman's image to
represent modernity itself: these illustrations show us the twentieth century
(a tall, attractive woman in a revealing, modern frock) overpowering the
nineteenth century (a short, bald, overweight, aging man in a tuxedo). This
interpretation is one of several ways Held's flapper--in her body image and in
her activities--can be seen as a symbol of change in the larger American
culture.
The Flapper as a Symbol of Modernity
Film historian Sumiko Higashi, writing about the 1920s, argues that "the image
of womanhood upheld by society is a cultural byproduct of its mores and
profoundly resistant to change"; therefore, "whenever change occurs, society is
experiencing certain transformations, as it was during World War I and its
aftermath."
The body of Held's flapper was a far cry from that of the Victorian matron (or
her more attractive daughter, the Victorian girl) depicted in
late-nineteenth-century popular culture. The latter ideal had been represented
by the female images drawn by Charles Dana Gibson for Collier's and Life
magazines during the 1890s and early 1900s. The "Gibson Girl" embodied the
Victorian-American values of sobriety and propriety, as well as specific moral
prescriptions for middle-class women: purity, piety, domesticity, and
submissiveness, the qualities historian Barbara Welter defined as comprising the
nineteenth-century "cult of true womanhood."
Held's flapper's appearance suggested just the opposite inclinations. The
illustrator himself contrasted these two generations in an illustration that
appeared inside a 1926 issue of Life, with the title "Thirty Years of Progress,
1896-1926" (Figure 18). Kenneth Yellis considered this set of images as
symbolic of the new century in America: "The Gibson girl was the embodiment of
stability. The flapper's aesthetic ideal was motion, [and] her characteristics
were intensity, energy, volatility. . . . She refused to recognize the
traditional moral code of American civilization, while the Gibson girl had been
its guardian."
The flapper further suggested a rejection of more recent events, a change in
national mood after World War I--what one historian later characterized as "an
immense, all-pervading disillusionment." Describing American men's reaction to
the war's end, Malcolm Cowley wrote, "we all got drunk. We had come through, we
were still alive . . . . We danced in the streets . . . with bottles of
champagne, fell asleep somewhere. On the next day, after we got over our
hangovers, we didn't know what to do, so we got drunk." As they danced, necked,
and drank bootleg gin, Held's flappers offered comic versions of the dissipation
that characterized Cowley's memoirs and much American literature of the period.
Held's flapper also was stylistically linked to trends in modern art. The fact
that she was a cartoon rather than a faithful rendition of a real woman
separated Held's art from both the idealized images of upper-class women in
nineteenth- century painting and the realistic depictions of working-class women
in the work of the "Ashcan realists" of the Progressive era . Held's girls
seemed to float in space, fitting cultural studies scholar Martin Pumphrey's
description of the flapper: "Young, with no future or past . . . angular and
poised yet always in motion, she [was] an ironic realization of modernist
principles."
Three characteristics of modern art, as discussed by Roland Marchand, could be
seen in Held's flapper. One was "the license [modern art] gave to 'expressive
distortion,' to exaggeration even to the point of caricature." Unrealistic
tallness was one aspect of this characteristic. In 1920s advertising, the
modern woman "was immediately recognizable in her elongated neck, stiletto
fingers, and towering
height . . . . The proportions of some women in the tableaus suggested a height
of over nine feet . . . . Their pointed feet and toes appeared to have emerged
fresh from a pencil sharpener." This description fit many of Held's flappers
(see, especially, Figures 14 and 16). The tall twentieth-century woman was as
much as symbol of modernity as the skyscraper.
The flapper's remarkable thinness further contributed to her unreal look.
Stuart Ewen includes this female body ideal among various types of evidence
supporting his argument that modernism was based on immateriality and was
signified by imagery "freed from the liabilities of substance." The
"streamlined" flapper, he writes, looked as if "she might transcend the force of
gravity, dissolving into the weightless ecstasy of some modernistic frenzy."
The second characteristic of modern art evident in Held's flapper was the
stylistic elimination of details, a technique that became a way of "respond[ing]
to the demands of the age for a fast tempo of reading based on 'effortless
simplicity' in the type." This simplified image--what Jane Feuer would call a
"flat character," in which larger messages could be inscribed and read--enabled
viewers to recognize a familiar symbol and to quickly decode the ideas that
symbol represented.
Finally, Held conveyed motion through the use of diagonal lines in his flapper
illustrations, a third quality of modern art. Movement was suggested by the
flapper's frequently-leaning body, by her bent legs and arms ("flapping" out),
by her slimness, and by the jagged hem or swaying skirt of her outfit. All of
these visual cues "fostered the image of the woman in actual or impending
motion--the woman on the move." So did her activities: cheering (Figure 7),
fighting (Figures 10 and 16), falling through the air (Figure 16), and dancing
(Figures 13 and 17). The angularity of the flapper in Figure 18, contrasted
with the prim posture of the Gibson Girl, offers a particularly clear example of
this phenomenon.
Part of the kinetic nature of modern images was an illusion of newness and
novelty, a feeling of constant change, an offering of "the latest mode"--a
technique in verbal and visual popular culture of the 1920s that was used not
only to connote the new century, but also to sell products in a new mass-market
culture. It was particularly in this sense that the idea of a New Woman, and
images representing that idea, became yet another aspect of modernism, called
into service as "triggers for consumer behavior." The Flapper as Commodification
of the New Woman
The transformation of women's representation during the 1920s was not merely
the result of commercial imperatives. It was also a form of cultural backlash
against the (real) political gains made and the (generally illusory) threat to
the social order posed by American women as the Victorian era gave way to
modernity.
During the first two decades of the twentieth century, the role and status of
women in the United States had undergone widespread discussion and some profound
transformations. It was during these years that Progressive-era reform offered
a chance for middle-class women to become involved in the public sphere in large
numbers; that women made the final push for, and achieved, suffrage; that the
term "feminist" first came into use, by women and by the press; that women
entered the workforce, including new professions, in significant numbers; that
the American popularity of the works of Freud prompted a public acknowledgement
of women's sexuality; and that a new birth-control movement enabled women to
express that sexuality more freely and safely.
To some extent, the flapper ideal confirmed these changes. In her history of
women's cultural representation, Lois Banner notes that this image conveyed
multiple and conflicting "behavior messages" for women. Indeed, the flapper has
been a contested image among historians who have studied both image and reality
in the women's lives. Some scholars have admired the flapper's outrageousness
and irreverence and called her a revolutionary figure, the first mass-media
depiction of a woman openly expressing her sexuality in an even power
relationship with men.
Furthermore, many young women living in the 1920s chose the flapper label as a
way of declaring their rejection of social conventions. One, Ruth Hooper,
defended the term in a 1922 New York Times article titled "Flapping Not Repented
Of." She explained that "a flapper is proud of her nerve . . . . She is
shameless, selfish and honest." Such a girl, Hooper warned young men, "will
never make you a hatband or knit a necktie, but she'll drive you from the
station hot summer nights in her own little sport car. She'll don knickers and
go skiing with you; or if it happens to be summer time, swimming; she'll dive as
well as you, perhaps better; she'll dance as long as you care to . . . ."
This was certainly a description of an independent, confident young woman. Yet
the New Woman who became a flapper was depicted--by Hooper as well as by
Held--as an equal with men only in the world of leisure. Another New York Times
piece, a tongue-in-cheek essay published in 1929, claimed that the flapper had
earned "the feminine right to equal representation in such hitherto masculine
fields of endeavor as smoking and drinking, swearing, petting and disturbing the
community peace."
Sumiko Higashi argues that, in film as well as magazine illustration, "[t]he
flapper's youthful, spirited and impulsive manner suggested a party without
end." Contrasting the flapper with the image of female Progressive reformers of
the previous generation, Mary P. Ryan has noted that
The slim figure of the new woman seemed designed
for play and pleasure, energetic self-expression rather
than altruistic service to mankind. . . . It was old-
fashioned to gather with one's own sex and pledge
mutual dedication to solace the poor children of
slums and factories. The flapper symbolized a
solipsistic, hedonistic, and privated femininity, a
gay abandonment of social housekeeping, women's
organizations, and dogged professionalism.
Through the flapper image, the "new" freedom of American women was thus
symbolically reduced to showing a lot of leg and public necking--essentially,
exhibitionistic fun. In her history of courtship in America, Beth Bailey has
noted that by the 1920s, such public displays of sexuality were far from
shocking; they were, in fact, expected behavior among middle-class youth.
Furthermore, as Lois Banner has observed, Held's illustrations portrayed women's
sexuality as comical, as a prank they played on unsuspecting men.
At the same time, the flapper's body itself--flat-chested, hipless,
skinny--posed little real sexual threat. Surveying American "trends in feminine
beauty," sociologist Allan Mazur notes that "[f]lapper beauty was remarkable for
the near absence of female sexual characteristics."
As a cultural ideal, Held's flapper was, in fact, not a woman at all, but an
adolescent. She had none of the responsibilities of adulthood--she was never
shown caring for children or working at a job. Her name itself suggested a
teenager: "The term 'flapper,'" explains Kenneth Yellis, "originated in England
as a description of girls of the awkward age . . . . meant literally . . . a
girl who flapped had not yet reached mature, dignified womanhood."
It is significant that this particular shift in women's body-image ideals
occurred during the decade that began with the passage of the Nineteenth
Amendment granting women's suffrage and that saw the introduction (by self-
identified "feminists") of the Equal Rights Amendment. Communication scholars
Margaret Hawkins and Thomas Nakayama analyzed the flapper image against this
political backdrop and saw it as a form of backlash against feminist gains.
"Understood as a cultural struggle within patriarchy at the time," they wrote,
"this idealized female body [was] . . . a crucial weapon in disempowering women
by idealizing the body of a girl."
Historian Elaine Tyler May agrees. The flapper's "childish aura," she writes,
suggested that even in the 1920s, "women remained in a state of dependency on
men, consistent with their traditional positions in both the economy and the
home. They could gain the attention of men, but not from a stance of autonomy.
The apparent freedom of the flapper, then, led directly to the protective
support of a man."
In this light, Held's illustration titled "Thirty Years of Progress, 1896-1926"
(Figure 18) can be seen as supremely ironic. His flapper poked fun at women's
actual advances while offering a "surface impresssion of the liberated
woman"--an image which, Hawkins and Nakayama argue, was crucial to the formation
"of advertising as an industry and ideological force, with women centered as the
focal point of consumerism."
Historians Rayna Rapp and Ellen Ross make a similar case, maintaining that,
during the 1920s, "themes of female independence" disappeared from the political
sphere but "resurfac[ed] in advertising" and media that contained advertising.
To be useful as selling tools, women's body images and lifestyles had to seem
new, yet any revolutionary tendencies of American women themselves--who,
according to advertising industry research, made 85 percent of product-purchase
decisions-- needed to be channeled into spending (not sexual, professional, or
political) impulses.
The flapper image played an important role in communicating to American women
such prescriptions for consumption. Martin Pumphrey argues that the flapper's
preoccupation with appearance and entertainment made her the perfect pitchperson
for new industries that revolved around leisure and personal pleasure:
[she] required clothes for innumerable occasions:
travelling, shopping, lunching, weddings, outdoor
amusements, tea, dining, theatre, dancing . . . .
Constantly in movement, the Flapper required cars,
trains and planes at her disposal. Enjoying sport and
the healthy life, she needed outfits for driving, golf
and tennis. Looking for a suntan in summer and
skiing in winter, she took advantage of the summer
cruises and winter holidays beng offered by the new
tour companies. Seeking nightlife, she frequented
places of luxury and expense.
The flapper promoted a range of consumer products and services, but her main
work was selling fashion. Held's illustrations did a large part of this work;
indeed, so closely were flapper fashions associated with him that F. Scott
Fitzgerald called them "John Held Clothes."
The flapper uniform--which itself "came to symbolize the 'new woman's'
independence," Higashi notes--included not only the short, narrow, sleeveless
dress, but also a combination girdle and bra that bound the breasts and
minimized the hips; roll-top, silk stockings; a handbag (the streamlined shift
could not accommodate functional pockets); and cosmetics. The sales of hose and
cosmetics alone betweeen 1923 and 1925 prompted the advertising firm N. W. Ayer
to take flappers seriously. In an industry ad, Ayer executives noted that
"tomorrow these young women will be home executives . . . . They will buy
enormous quantities of every conceivable kind of staple merchandise."
Sociologists Robert and Helen Lynd, in Middletown, their 1929 study of a
representative American town, found evidence that flapper imagery had indeed
spurred national consumption. Since the turn of the century, they reported,
women's "skirts have shortened from the ground to the knee and the lower limbs
have been emphasized by sheer silk stockings; more of the arms and neck are
habitually exposed."
Thanks to the new ready-to-wear clothing industry and the wide availability of
consumer credit in the 1920s, this outfit, which began as a costume for urban
elites, became affordable to middle-class women across the country. Flapper
dresses were available for mail-order through the Sears-Roebuck catalog
beginning in 1923, and retail stores sold them in the fashion industry's first
standardized sizes.
The vertical dress style and the new sizing system bolstered two other growing
national industries, the weight-loss business and the tobacco industry. Then as
now, smoking was portrayed in advertising as a gesture of independence: "In the
1920s," writes Michael Schudson, "cigarettes came to be a personal and social
marker for 'the new woman,' a sign of divorce from the past and inclusion in the
group of the new, young, and liberated." But tobacco companies also created a
new female market by promoting their product as a diet aid, as a (to quote a
Lucky Strike ad of the day) "new-day and common-sense way to keep a slender,
fashionable figure."
Ultimately, the flapper was a saleswoman. And in this sense, she became a
prime example of how feminist notions about freedom and choice were co-opted by
commercial culture--of how the New Woman in American culture became more
profitable than political--during the 1920s.
Conclusion
In the flapper, epitomized by the cartoonish girls drawn by John Held, Jr.,
issues of feminism, modernism, and commerce intersected in complex ways. So too
did image and reality intersect: women's body images in popular art carried
prescriptions for the behavior of actual American women, and that behavior
further defined the image. An examination of Held's flapper supports Raymond
Williams' argument that art is a part, not merely a "reflection," of any
particular era, that it is inside rather than outside history, and that until we
know a society's imagery, "we cannot really claim to know the society."
Though initially associated with the upper-class, urban phenomenon of the "Jazz
Age," Held's flapper quickly became a national icon, distributed via mass-
market magazines to middle-class Americans across the United States. On one
level, this symbol incorporated larger messages: a modernist rejection of
Victorian social, moral, and aesthetic values; a dismissal of women's sexual and
political power; and an affirmation of pleasure-seeking through consumption. On
another level, she quite literally showed millions of Americans, many of them
women, what to buy in order to have a modern look and lifestyle.
The flapper was a product of her time and society, and she existed in popular
culture beyond the magazine world. John Held, Jr. did not invent the flapper.
Yet he gave her a unique visual form that was widely recognized in his time and
that remains a powerful figure in American memory and cultural history. The
emergence and deployment of this image during the 1920s offer cultural
historians valuable perspectives on American values and identity, on the loss of
women's newfound political and social agency in this era, and on the role of
mass-media representations of women's bodies in twentieth-century commercial
culture.
Credits and sources for illustrations
Figure 1. (Clockwise from upper left:) Fashion illustration in Harper's
Bazaar, 1925, reprinted in Jane Trahey, Harper's Bazaar: 100 Years of
the American Female, 120; two advertisements (for advertising design
itself) that appeared in Advertising and Selling, April 18, 1929 and
March 24, 1926, reprinted in Marchand, Advertising the American
Dream, 147, 143; silverware advertisement from the Saturday Evening
Post, May 9, 1931, reprinted in Marchand, 182.
Figure 2. Advertisement, Saturday Evening Post, April 9, 1927, reprinted in
Marchand, 201.
Figure 3. Advertisement, Saturday Evening Post, April 22, 1930, reprinted in
Marchand, 183.
Figure 4. Photo, Amelia Earhart (late 1920s), reprinted in Trahey, 40.
Figure 5. Sheet music: "Danger! (Look Out for that Gal!)" and "Red Hot
Mamma" (full citations in text).
Figure 6. John Held, Jr., "Hold 'Em," Life, November 19, 1925, reprinted in
Armitage, John Held, Jr.: Illustrator of the Jazz Age, 42.
Figure 7. Held, "The Girl Who Gave Him the Cold Shoulder," Life, August 26,
1926, reprinted in John Held, Jr., The Most of John Held, Jr.
(Brattleboro, VT: The Stephen Greene Press, 1972), 74.
Figure 8. Held, "The Thinker," Life, March 18, 1926, reprinted in Armitage,
106-107.
Figure 9. Held, "The Laughing Stock," Life, July 29, 1926, reprinted in
Armitage, 106-107.
Figure 10. Held, "Where the Blue Begins," Judge, April 7, 1923, reprinted in
Armitage, 106-107.
Figure 11. Held, (clockwise from upper left:) "One Up, Two to Play," Judge,
June 30, 1923; "She Left Home Under a Cloud," Life, n. d.; "The Lass
Who Loved a Sailor," Life, June 24, 1926; "The Girl Who Gave Him the
Cold Shoulder," Life, August 26, 1926; all reprinted in Shuttlesworth,
"John Held, Jr. and his World," 32.
Figure 12. Held, "The Long and the Short of It," Life, December 18, 1924,
reprinted in Held, 46.
Figure 13. Held, [no title] McClure's, August 1927, reprinted in Walt Reed,
The Illustrator in America, 1900-1960s (New York: Reinhold, 1966), 93.
Figure 14. Held, "Sitting Pretty," Life, March 31, 1927, reprinted in Meyer,
America's Great Illustrators, 297.
Figure 15. Held, "The Girl Who Went for a Ride in a Balloon," Life, January
14, 1926, reprinted in Armitage, 86.
Figure 16. Held, "She Missed the Boat," Life, April 28, 1927, reprinted in
Held, 63.
Figure 17. Held, "Teaching Old Dogs New Tricks," Life, February 18, 1926,
reprinted in Armitage, cover.
Figure 18. Held, "Thirty Years of Progress 1896-1926," Life (n. d.), reprinted
in Meyer, 296.
Notes
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