In the post-war era, St. Nicholas, like other magazines, had to compete with moving pictures, radio, and the first hints of television. Worse, sensationalism was rampant in the inevitable let-down from the anxieties of war. Advertising not only took on a life of its own, but took over everybody else’s as well. Fashions became fads, quick to sweep the country, faster to die (death without dignity!): crossword puzzles, Mah Jongg, psychology, “Yes, we have no bananas”, the Hall-Dennis murder trial. Saccho and Vanzetti were executed in prison, William Jennings Bryant and God were crucified in court and in the newspapers. Prohibition was in law, hip flasks were in pockets, and Al Capone was in Chicago -- so much for order and justice.
In the early 20s, St. Nicholas relied on its tried and true mystery serial writers and sports authors to keep its standards high. Illustrations became lighter and more varied -- even Charles Relyea returned to line drawings and less detailed pen and ink sketches, such as this one for Ralph Henry Barbour’s “Nid and Nod,” a sports story. Considering that Relyea had, at this point, been illustrating St. Nicholas for at least four decades, his versatility is remarkable: compare the style of these two bathing beauties with some of his work from the 1890s.
Silhouettes, those fashionable black & white figures last seen in the 1880s, were back in style: here’s one by Hope Avery for “A Page from Mother Goose” -- reminds me of early Pyle. And reminiscent of early Rackham (perhaps combined with Pyle?) is Marion T. Justice’s illustration for “Ballad of Cross-Stitch Town.”
By 1928, St. Nicholas had grown from a child-sized, easy to hold magazine to an emulation of the large, glossy, three-columned productions aimed at seducing adults. Advertising was creeping into its pages -- always before, St. Nicholas held to the policy of having separate advertising pages at front and back, with no advertisements in the actual reading content -- but at least the ads were confined to the last third. New illustrators were conforming to the styles of the day: Leslie Turner’s comical drawings, Louis Lundean’s sharp pencil sketches, and T. G. Richardson’s war drawings, while very different, all seem rather impressionistic. Other artists, most unfortunately, seem to have returned to the 1870s style of fainting heroines: Both Manning de V. Lee’s and Charles Lassell’s unconscious females are so limp they look like they either have broken backs or no spines whatsoever -- probably the latter.
1930, the last copy of the magazine I have in my possession, shows how far sensationalism has eroded literary standards. By this time, Scholastic had taken over from The Century Company, and the results seem dismal. “Dead-shot Garrity, the red-headed Texas Terror, would try anything once! And his friend Tommy had been bored since the revolution” reads the sub-heading to one story. “Can a boy of fourteen subdue a crazed elephant?” asks another. Hmmm. Gee, I wonder how the story ends.
The illustrations are the bright spot, though: take a look at Armstrong Sperry’s illustration for “Terrors of the Deep” (actually a story about ocean creatures), or La Verne Nelson Black’s Navajo Canyon.
St. Nicholas stopped publishing during World War II, after almost 70 years of entertaining children.