The Neighbors' Neighbor

Of all the cartoons syndicated to U.S. newspapers, few are more true to life than "The Neighbors." And few cartoonists work harder for realism than George Clark, 51, the short (5 ft. 6 in.), rumpled creator of "The Neighbors." Instead of a belly laugh, Humorist Clark tries for a smile, or at most a chuckle. This folksy, low-key humor has made the cartoon so popular that last week it was being syndicated to some 150 newspapers, from Manhattan's tabloid Daily News to the Sioux Falls (S. Dak.) Argus Leader. It is George Clark's fond hope that every reader will recognize his friends (and himself) in the everyday lives of the pert housewives, harassed males and wide-eyed moppets in "The Neighbors."

One day last week, for example, the single-panel cartoon showed a snub-nosed child stopping by his teacher's desk as he put on his coat to go home. Asked he: "Did I learn anything in school today, Miss Watts? Mom always asks." Or it may be a young secretary standing up to her pompous, jowly boss: "I hate reminding you about that raise, Mr. Doaks, but my husband keeps nagging me about it." Some fans believe Clark is at his best on the domestic scene, e.g., an adolescent daughter, about to leave on a date with her boy friend, puts the bite on her father: "I'll need more, Dad. Eddie and I go dutch treat, but I have to lend him his half."

The Candid Cameraman. Oklahoma-born George Clark started drawing at five, and at 16 began cartooning for Oklahoma City's Daily Oklahoman and Times. He became a staff artist for the Cleveland Press before he was 21. Later, free-lancing in New York, he thought up and sold a cartoon panel called "Side Glances" to N.E.A. Service, Inc. In 1939 he quit for a better deal with the Chicago Tribune-New York News Syndicate. (With a new artist, N.E.A. continued to syndicate "Side Glances," which is often confused with "The Neighbors.")

To get his homey situations, Clark spends hours watching people at soda fountains, listening to women talk on buses, sitting in railroad stations ("The benches are just the right distance apart for watching people"). Much of the time he carries his Leica, snaps hundreds of pictures of street scenes, gestures, buildings and expressions, files them all away for the time when he will need to make a background authentic. Other ideas also come from watching Elise, his wife (and childhood sweetheart), their pretty, brunette daughter Joyce, 22, and nine-year-old son George Jr. All bear strong resemblances to their cartoon counterparts. Another source of ideas is a Los Angeles housewife, Estelle Waldman. Ten years ago she wrote to Clark, suggested she offer cartoon situations. Clark agreed, put her on a salary, finds she has since furnished him with some of his best ideas.

The Night Hawk. A restless sleeper, Cartoonist Clark often gets up at 2 a.m. to plod back to the cluttered 6-by-8-ft. cubicle in the eight-room Manhattan apartment where he works. Says he: "It takes me at least six hours to warm up. I sit there trying to work and wondering what I've been doing all these years that it should still come so hard to me." Finally a situation or a gag comes to mind. He starts sketching, often works for twelve hours running to finish the week's supply of six cartoons. For his long, sleepless nights at the drawing board the syndicate pays Clark about $37,500 yearly (half "The Neighbors' " total income). But, says he, with what might make a situation for one of his own wistful sketches: "When I'm trying to think of ideas for cartoons and they won't come, I think it would be wonderful to paint landscapes, with no gags in them."

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