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Curious George 70 years later

A few months ago we found a copy of the original Curious George book in a used bookstore. The girl loves Curious George—she watched the PBS cartoon pretty often and has her own stuffed Curious George that she sleeps with sometimes. Naturally, Curious George has been a frequent request for bedtime stories, so I’ve read it quite a few times now.

The Curious George stories are fun and whimiscal for children, but somewhat disturbing for adults. The Man with the Yellow Hat is by far the most irresponsible guardian I have ever encountered. His general supervisory approach consists of taking George to new situations and then leaving for extended periods of time. His sole attempt at responsibility consists of his oft-ignored admonition to George: “Be a good little monkey and don’t get into trouble.”

The newer incarnations of the Curious George paint the Man with the Yellow Hat as an innocent, cheerful fellow who works in a museum. But the original Man in the Yellow Hat of 1940 was cut from a distinctly different cloth. Rather than a naïve museum curator, he’s a shotgun-toting, pipe-smoking explorer with a square jaw, ruddy complexion, and perpetual five o’clock shadow. The Man with the Yellow Hat oozes post-colonial paternalism as he tells George that he is going to live in a zoo and that he will like it there. (That’s right! You’ll live in a cage, and you’ll like it!) This version of the Man with the Yellow Hat would be voiced by Clint Eastwood before Will Farrell.

The Man’s parenting skills wouldn’t come across so well today. George becomes a simian juvenile delinquent, complete with run-ins with the law, substance abuse habits, and incarceration. Of course, those behaviors were all much more tolerated in 1940 among children, so why not a monkey?

In the original book the Man with the Yellow Hat leaves George unattended, resulting in a false 911 call, George’s imprisonment, and a prison escape via stolen balloons that ends up gridlocking the traffic in the city. The Man then shows up, tucks the offending primate under his arm, casually tosses the balloon man a few coins, and hauls George off to the zoo. Not exactly a happy ending by today’s standards.

But the mischievous chimp was such an enduring character that he returned for many more exploits. Along the way, the Man with the Yellow Hat morphed from über-masculine Safari man to a wide-eyed and wimpy museum nerd. It’s probably a change for the better, and it appears to have had a positive effect on George, who managed to kick his smoking habit. There are still quite a few issues regarding insufficient supervision, much to PETA’s dismay, but without the Man’s inattentiveness, Curious George wouldn’t be nearly as fun.

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Note on copyrights: Unlike most posts on this blog, the copyright holder of the images used in this post has presumably retained all rights. These images are used pursuant to 17 U.S.C. § 107, and the author has concluded in good faith that this use complies with the requirements of fair use. Specifically, the purpose and character of the use is transformative, intended to use the lens of time to critique a work created nearly 70 years ago. The images have previously been published many times, and only small, low-quality portions of the original work (Curious George) have been reproduced here. These low-quality images are not direct market substitutes and will not have a negative effect on the marketability of the images or associated creative works. See Campbell v. Acuff-Rose Music, Inc., 510 U.S. 569 (1994).

Of the Pipe and Community – By Josiah Clemens and J.F. Anderson (guest writers here at pipe-smokers.net)

Humans gather around warmth. Throughout history, important cultural rituals have taken place around a central, heated space or device. When man first discovered how to create fire, civilization was birthed. When man became domesticated, the focal point of the home became the hearth. Even today, when people want to get together, they often grab coffee, which serves as a warm, gravitational centerpiece.

So it is with the pipe. It is no coincidence Native Americans used the peace pipe to seal peace treaties between warring tribes. Have you ever felt like fighting while reposed with a perfectly packed bowl? Neither have we. This traditional ceremony suggests pipe smoking as a peaceful and communal activity. Perhaps emanating from the tobacco pipe is the gravity of warmth, and by it people are drawn together.

To take a more modern example, look at the Inklings. Revered by pipe smokers, intellectuals, and LOTR nerds—excuse us, fans—everywhere, the Inklings were a group of writers (most notably C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien) who met frequently at a local pub in Oxford to enjoy a pipe and a pint. Here they discussed literature and life, with a rare mix of seriousness and gaiety. Undoubtedly, the sharing of pipe tobacco and pipe technique promoted the sharing of ideas and stories in their community.

A few weeks ago, a beautiful thing occurred in our own lives. A group of a dozen or so men gathered at our own local pub to celebrate a friend’s good fortune. The air was thick and the lights were dim. Ale, pipe’s wilder cousin, surged in waves while the pipe smoke rocked gently atop the fresh night air. The joy of brotherhood was not lost on a single soul. Everyone drank of conversation and we laughed deeply. As the warm smoke drifted from our lips, so did our anxieties. We were honest and open with one another. The pipe did not create community that night, but it did enhance it.

Indeed, the pipe can be used to unify, promote, and amplify community. And warmth, man’s relational gravity, is an integral part of what makes the smoking a pipe such an enjoyable communal activity. You can quote us on this: Life is better when lived together with a pipe in hand.

Photo: Mansell/Time & Life Pictures/Getty Images
Jan 02, 1754