THE BRIEF, EASILY-READ, INTERESTING VERSION:

ON SMITH-WEISS was born. He began cartooning around the age of five. HE attended the Montserrat School of Visual Art in Beverly, Massachusetts, but after three semesters decided to explore writing, and transferred to the University of New Hampshire as an English major. Then a few friends suggested he audition for a drama department production, and he soon changed his major to Theater.

Dodo, a play he wrote, about a children’s show taken over by terrorists, was produced there; but he never thought to use clowns as the basis for anything else until QlownTown, years later.

AFTER COLLEGE, he worked as a layout/paste-up artist, first for a printmaking company and then for a quick-print shop. There was a year doing business card and letterhead illustration, then years of house restoration, construction, and design, during which time he gradually stopped cartooning altogether. He became technical director for a professional theatre for several years, then a kitchen designer for almost ten.

ENCOURAGED when everyone at his 30th high school reunion asked him if he was still cartooning, he began drawing and e-mailing a strip to friends and relatives in 2003. Encouraged by the positive reactions, he submitted samples to all the major syndicates, who all turned him down---some with form letters, some with words of encouragement. (The strip was called The Following Program, just because he hoped that someday there would be a TV special, and the announcer would say at the end, “The Following Program has been brought to you by…”)
AS the kitchen business got busier, the e-mails stopped; but several years later, with dozens of cartoon ideas piling up in a file, he decided to do what he’d always been meant to do.

THE LONG, BORING, SELF-CONGRATULATORY VERSION:

ON SMITH-WEISS was born in 1952, which seems like a lifetime ago---and so far, it is. He began cartooning around the age of five. His grandfather actually saved this cartoon from back in those years, and it’s survived as an example of early artistic talent combined with an inability to actually come up with something funny.

THUS BEGAN years of drawing cartoons. He talked his seventh grade teacher and classmates into starting a school newspaper so he could do a comic strip. "There followed “Seymour” (about an unseen creature who lived in a drain) in a church camp newspaper, and “Junior Hy” (about a teenage boy--what a surprise!), and “Mughead and Bill Board”, two adventurers, in high school (abandoning attempts at humor, he went with a serialized story for this one). An underground high school newspaper, LIP, lasting one issue, featured a rip-off of Robert Crumb’s style. It having been the sixties, however, he doesn’t remember where he put his copy of that cartoon.

The high school yearbook featured a pop-up drawing of a band, modeled after a real jug band that was formed to advertise dances and fundraisers during school lunch hours, and the class graduation program featured a drawing of 90-odd characters in an open car, on a ride into the future.

DON WAS A MEMBER of the inaugural freshman class of the Montserrat School of Visual Art in Beverly, Massachusetts. Despite being instructed by a teacher to “save everything you do, in case you want to chronicle your artistic history someday,” he regrettably threw out most of those drawings and paintings years ago. Maybe it’s just as well:

After three semesters, though, he decided to explore writing, and transferred to the University of New Hampshire as an English major.

College newspapers featured several Weiss cartoons (his marriage and the addition of his wife’s maiden name to his own was yet to occur), and he designed the logo for a country-jazz band he played in. But a few friends suggested he audition for a drama department production, and his focus was soon on theatre. He did a few posters, but was drawing less and less.

This poster for a Greek tragedy was supposed to echo ancient Greek motifs, although it wound up with an Art Deco feel.

A play he wrote, Dodo, about a children’s show taken over by terrorists, was produced at UNH. Although Dodo, the show’s host, was a clown, Don never thought of using clowns as the basis for anything else until QlownTown, years later.

THE NEXT PHASE of cartoons survives on cocktail napkins and placemats. Sketched during evenings spent with friends and beer, they were somewhat off-the-wall. Despite encouragement from friends, Don assumed that unconventional cartoons had no place in mainstream books or newspapers, so he confined his drawings to absorbent, textured paper. (Of course, B Kliban then made a fortune with his cats, and The Far Side premiered a few years later, proving the fallibility of the artist’s vision.)

THERE THEN FOLLOWED years where he drew almost no cartoons—known to some as the Thank God Years. There was a brief stab at business card and letterhead illustration, then years spent in house restoration, construction, and design. After being talked into performing in a production of Peter Pan by some old college friends, he became Peter Pan's primary flier--that position falling by default to the first pirate killed, as he would never be onstage when Peter needed to fly---and the theater bug had bitten again. He became technical director of the theatre a year later, and spent many long hours, late nights and weekends designing and building sets and props for a couple of dozen productions over the course of several years (and a few costumes, including a spinning top costume for a children’s show which actually spun around the actor), until he realized he couldn’t remember his children’s ages and decided he needed to spend more time with his family. He became a kitchen designer and began working reasonable hours and earning decent money for a change.

IT WAS FINALLY at his 30th high school reunion, when everyone asked “Are you still doing cartoons? I always remember you drawing cartoons”, that Don began to wonder if he should start drawing again.

He began e-mailing four or five cartoons a week to about sixty friends and relatives. Encouraged by the positive reaction, he submitted samples to all the major syndicates, but they all turned him down---some with form letters, some with words of encourage-ment---but none with offers of money. (The strip was called The Following Program, just because he hoped that someday there would be a TV special, and the announcer would say at the end, “The Following Program has been brought to you by…”) As the kitchen business got busier, however, he stopped e-mailing cartoons. A couple of people wrote back that they were disappointed: “I used to open my e-mail first thing in the morning, and if you’d sent me a cartoon, that would start my day off right,” one wrote. These words were encouraging, but it would be a few years before they came back to inspire him to start sharing cartoons again.

FINALLY, however, with dozens of cartoon ideas piling up in a file, a volunteer trip that convinced him there must be a job where more people would be nicer to him, and a newfound desire to make life matter a little more, he decided to do what he’d always been meant to do.
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ADDITIONAL OLD STUFF: