Live Free: Confessions of an Old Cartoonist

Brion O' Connor picks up the pencil again, and tries his hand at old hobbies

Like many seniors, I’m exploring new pastimes to keep me out of trouble during my “golden years.” Spine and hip surgeries retired my soccer cleats and hockey gear a while back. So, for starters, I’m pursuing a lifelong fascination with the bass guitar, a promise I made to Bill Burke, my good friend and former editor, before he tragically passed in 2021. 

But I’m also confronting a bizarre “Back to the Future” moment. At my bride’s urging, I’m literally going back to the drawing board, rekindling my love for cartooning.

My siblings and I grew up drawing, constantly. Our father was an ardent illustrator and cartoonist (his cartoon leprechauns, Homer and Humphrey, are part of O’Connor clan lore). He was a big fan of the brilliant artists of MAD Magazine and Charles Schulz’s “Peanuts.” Drawing was just something we did, like walking, eating and breathing. We collected comic books — my true introduction to the written word — and created our own superheroes. 

Cartooning was also a nice fit for my outsized opinions. I was drawn (no pun intended) to popular political cartoonists, like Pat Oliphant and the legendary Thomas Nast, the “Father of the American Cartoon.” I started sketching my own panels, first for Bergen Catholic in New Jersey, and then Manchester Central High after moving to New Hampshire.

Alma Langlois, an English teacher and advisor to Central’s “Little Green” newspaper, was my tireless supporter. Like all great teachers — and Mrs. Langlois was a great teacher — she allowed me to make mistakes while honing my craft. Arriving at the University of New Hampshire, I sought out the offices of the student newspaper, “The New Hampshire,” in the Memorial Union Building (located, conveniently, near the MUB Pub). 

 At a turbulent time of my life, that newspaper office and creating two cartoons a week on my father’s drawing table (a birthday gift from his parents) were welcome constants. I’m forever grateful. 

Any topic was fair game, from school and local matters to national politics (President Reagan!). It’s interesting to see how many issues persist today — lack of funding, tuition costs, booze, minority and LGBTQ rights, women’s equality, environmental concerns.  

One Saturday during the 1980 fall semester, a Union Leader reporter called, interested in a feature on my cartooning. I said I was game, but suggested he wait a few days before proceeding. What I didn’t tell him was I’d just finished a cartoon of Union Leader publisher Bill Loeb plastering Meldrim Thomson Jr. posters over Hugh Gallen posters during a heated governor’s race. The cartoon ran the following Tuesday; I never heard back from the reporter.

Strangely enough, the cartoon I was best remembered for wasn’t mine. An editor asked me to do a cartoon on campus overcrowding, riffing on a song by one-hit wonder Joe Dolce, named “Shaddap Your Face,” with the refrain, “Hey, wazza a matta you, itza nice-a place.” But I had a part-time job with UNH’s housing department, so I declined. My editor got another artist to draw it, but everyone (except my boss, fortunately) thought I was responsible.

Those days also served as my baptism in “real” journalism. I fell in love with the buzz and camaraderie of the newsroom. The newspaper had amazing talent, including future Pulitzer Prize winner Kevin Sullivan (with the Washington Post), Jackie MacMullan of Sports Illustrated and ESPN fame, author Todd Balf, future New Your Times editor Tim Hilchey, and Paula Tracy, who still writes for InDepth NH. 

When I started reporting, I had to shackle my love for political cartoons. Neutrality was paramount. But I kept drawing, doing a cartoon strip called “Ham Street Shuffle” (named after our street in Dover), and producing illustrations for newspapers early in my journalism career. 

Sadly, early editors kept asking me to do extra work. I eventually tired of those requests, and put my drawing pad away. Now, I’m sharpening my pencils again, starting with caricatures. I’m not sure where my doodling will lead me. But my wife reminds me that I still harbor those outsized opinions, and they still need an outlet.