Scrappy Pushes the Envelope

I’m not sure how I’ve gone this long without writing anything for Scrappyland. It’s true that I’ve been busy with other journalistic efforts—I wrote Fast Company‘s new cover story about Satya Nadella and Microsoft—but that’s hardly an excuse. In any rational assessment of their relative contribution to society, Scrappy ranks well above Microsoft and should be prioritized.

The good news is that I’m nowhere near running out of stuff to post on this site. In fact, I have an impressive backlog to work my way through, and I promise to chip away at it. And as I do, I’m pretty confident that more Scrappy-related matters will surface. It would be a shame if I ever felt like my work here was done.

For now, here’s the newest addition to the archive: an envelope that someone at Charles Mintz’s studio sent to C.A. Loescher, the postmaster of Menasha, Wisconsin, in November 1932. It’s postmarked on the evening of the day before Thanksgiving.

I show it here, of course, mostly because of that wonderful return address art, which is worth looking at more closely. I think it might be by Dick Huemer, and the inkwell theme is so prominent that I feel like Max Fleischer might have reasonably demanded a royalty.

In 2017, I wrote about 1154 North Western Ave., which was Mintz’s first Hollywood studio. As best I can tell, he relocated to 7000 Santa Monica Blvd. sometime in 1933. He continued to use the artwork from this envelope, with the address updated, for years. It was on the letter of recommendation given to Mintz employee (and eventual Cartoonist Profiles editor) Jud Hurd when he left in October 1936—even though neither Krazy nor Scrappy’s on-screen versions much resembled these designs by that time. Then again, if I had this art, I wouldn’t want to give it up either.

The Charles Mintz Studio gradually changed its name to Screen Gems; I imagine it eventually had stationery and envelopes reflecting that fact. I haven’t seen them, but if this envelope turned up on eBay—and it did—there’s no reason later ones couldn’t someday.

By now, you are wondering why the Mintz people were contacting a Wisconsin postmaster. I’m not sure. The envelope is sealed, but that seems to be an artifact of its age—there’s nothing in it; I’d love to think that C.A. Loescher was a Scrappy fan, but I’m afraid I have no evidence to support that theory. It’s possible that he was one of many postmasters who received envelopes from Mintz, perhaps as part of some marketing campaign.

In any event, we do know what Loescher looked like, thanks to the Menasha Historical Society. In the photo below, he’s fourth from the left in the middle row. (“Backes” is the fellow in the front row at whom the arrow is pointing—maybe a snappy mail carrier?)

It’s also clear that Loescher was a pillar of Menasha society—the secretary/treasurer of the Wisconsin Postmasters’ Association, post commander of the American Legion, a speaker at local events, and more. He sounds entirely admirable, and loving Scrappy—which we have no evidence he didn’t do—would only make him more laudable. I’m sorry to say he died in 1941, the same year the final Scrappy cartoon reached theaters.

See you soon, I hope.