Capp's Hardhats
Al Capp was the creator of one of the great works of satire - in any medium - of the 20th century: the comic strip Li'l Abner, which ran in the daily papers from 1934-1977. It was an hilarious and cutting rebuttal to slick hucksterism and phony sophistication, and reading the first decade or two of the strip in the Kitchen Sink Press collections several years ago left me with the impression that Capp was a decent fellow who felt it his duty to expose the fools and charlatans responsible for society's ills. That may be an oversimplification, and Capp was certainly not naive himself (his excellent, autobiographical My Well Blanced Life on a Wooden Leg is eloquent and moving proof of this) but in general, he seemed to rightly side with the underdog or victim -- even if that person was as much a dullard as his frequent, titular hero Li'l Abner, a goodhearted naif if there ever was one.
By the 1960s and 70s, though, his persona seems to have undergone a change; or was it simply that the culture had changed around him in the fifty years since his youth? I don't know what his personal politics were throughout his life, but I imagine this quote from his bio at Wikipedia is a pretty cartoonish (ha!) conclusion:
"In the '60s, Capp's politics swung from liberal to conservative, and instead of caricaturing big business types, he began spoofing counterculture icons such as Joan Baez... "
Since when are "big business types" and "counterculture icons" mutually exclusive? It's embarrassingly clear, especially in hindsight, how opportunist and careerist many (if not most) of the Baezes and Dylans of the 60s actually were -- Capp was merely doing what he had always done, deflating the fatheads and phonies. That he now had even more platforms (his strip, newspaper columns and reportedly a very popular - if increasingly controversial - presence on the college lecture circuit) to express his opinions may have inflated his tendencies to mock and goad those he saw as deserving figures and institutions...
And how could placing such a volatile (though clearly vulnerable, hence defensive -- even touchingly so) personality amid such a set of circumstances have any effect other than that of making him appear a loudmouthed fathead? I think certain groups of people knew this and they were goading Capp. He did seem to go out of his way, though, to spout off and insert himself where he might not have been welcome (certainly he was an opportunist and careerist himself). It's just a shame he didn't have the reserve and humilty (or just outright shyness?) that someone like Charles Schulz possessed.
At any rate, I'm sure I'm not saying anything that hasn't already been said - and better - by other, more knowledgable writers than myself. I just think it's a fascinating and sad situation all around. There aren't really any lessons to learn, it's just the mess of life. And I think Capp's strip, at its rare best, explored that same idea.
So:these illustrations are from a book Capp wrote called The Hardhat's Bedtime Story Book, published by Harper & Row in 1971. This was a hardcover copy I found in the free pile at the local library, and I see from my research that it's cheaply and widely available on ebay and amazon and all the other used-bookseller sites, so I have to say I don't know how uncommon it is. Hopefully it hasn't been so widely seen that this is a waste of my time -- or yours.
The book is a collection of topical essays, observances, etc. from the author -- and I have to admit I didn't read much of it. As soon as I see the names "Kennedy" or "Carson" (or their visages in cartoon form) or the designations "mayor" or "dean" my eyes glaze over and I just lose all interest. This may be shortsighted and shallow of me but this work - as a whole - is shortsided and shallow, and too specific to be of any interest even a few short years later. It's like Walt Kelly's Pogo when he began to caricature specific indviduals instead of creating ones that reflect certain types -- that's when I stop reading. I'm not interested in editorial cartooning, nor in journalism for that matter.
However, I am interested in good cartooning, and these examples are that, at least in the form of single illustrations embellishing the text. I've always liked Capp's drawing; he might not be the most supple or fluid draftsman but there's something unique about his style that I've never been able to put my finger on. I can't see any precedent for his style in earlier comic strips -- though undoubtedly he must have been influenced by many of his elders, not the least of which being his (tor)mentor Ham Fisher. So maybe Capp's lineage is obvious and I'm just ignorant... 
But I like the stuff, wherever it came from. It's a weird combination of bigfoot and grotesquerie, made even more peculiar by the occasional, strangely idealized forms. Perhaps his later reliance on assistants is the answer? Sometimes (not always) it looks as if he pasted a Big Daddy Roth decal of a freakish head on top of a body drawn by a totally anonymous artist. It's hard to pin down.
Anyhow, at this point (1971) I have no idea if he would use assistants for this kind of project -- his daily strip, sure, but a book he wrote himself, and requiring only about a dozen pages of drawings? I'd love to know.
Every illustration from the book is here; the dustjacket cover I excluded because it was stickered with assorted library tags and markings, and it was just a color variation of the title page you see at the very top of this entry. The drawings are presented here in the same order as they appear in the book, though I have in some cases removed captions and cropped other text. I did include the back cover as the last image.
I must have spent about 15 minutes googling "Bulzcht" thinking it was someone's name... then I realized he must have meant bullshit. How silly of me.
"So, Al Capp and Steve Ditko walk into a bar... "