On Carl Thomas Anderson and “Henry”: Life Begins at 67

Comic strip artist Carl Thomas Anderson (1865-1948) was born of a Valentine’s Day, just like Jack Benny, Gregory Hines, and tellingly, Teller of Penn and Teller. Teller is just as silent as Anderson’s most famous creation, a delightful example of synchronicity. Today’s subject, btw, is no relation to Paul Thomas Anderson, whose own father (Ernie Anderson) was also famous.

Carl Thomas Anderson was of Norwegian Wisconsin stock. He began his working life as a cabinetmaker. Cabinetmakers often become magicians (or, rather, magicians often historically started out as a cabinetmakers) but Anderson was drawn to visual art. He studied at the Pennsylvania Museum and School of Industrial Art and got his first illustration work at the Philadelphia Times in 1894. Around the turn of the century he began to have moderate success with now forgotten comic strips like The Filipino and the Chick for the New York World and the Pulitzer chain; Raffles and Bunny for the New York Journal and Hearst; and Herr Spiegelberger, the Amateur Cracksman for the McClure syndicate. Later he did free-lance work for magazines like Judge, Life, and Puck.

Anderson was 65 years old when he returned to Madison to care for a dying father, living in a house with him and three adult sisters at the start of the Great Depression. (He was clearly a very good son. Maybe that’s why he capitalized the S in AnderSon when he signed his strips). In Madison, he returned to cabinetry, taught classes, and continued to free-lance.

Then, in 1932, he finally hit upon the formula that made him famous. The star of his comic strip Henry was a strange little boy with a bald baby head, who never spoke a word. It is surprising to learn that the strip debuted so late. I’m afraid that my memory may have confused Henry with Richard F. Outcault’s much earlier but similarly baldYellow Kid. But beyond this, Anderson retained the sensibility of his younger self, those early years of the 20th century. Latter day technology rarely appeared in Henry, it was still kind of a horse and buggy world. I find it significant that the strip died just after silent movie comedy died out, almost as if it was fulfilling a need. These are often called pantomime comics. Otto Soglow’s The Little King debuted at around the same time. Marjorie Buell’s Little Lulu, devised to replace Henry when Anderson left the Saturday Evening Post for King Features, was also originally silent.

Anderson personally produced Henry for about a decade, then handed it off to other artists. It was still very much a pop culture point of reference for decades later. I recall that in the early ’80s, my girlfriend’s brother-in-law jokingly called me “Henry”, because I (being shy) didn’t talk much. Henry forged on into the 21st century. While new daily strips were being produced only up until 1995, new Sunday strips continued through 2005. After that, old strips were rerun in syndication as late as 2018 — 70 years after the creator’s death.

Oddly, Henry is one of the few major comic strips never adapted to a film series, though the character once made an appearance in a Betty Boop cartoon. He speaks in that one!

In the ’80s, SCTVdid a hilarious and strange bit where Rick Moranis played Henry in a film by Robert Altman, negatively reviewed by Siskel (Joe Flaherty) and Ebert (Dave Thomas). This would have been around the time that Altman made Popeye, theoretically just as cockamamie. Thanks the reader who reminded me of this!

For related discourse please check out: Chain of Fools: Silent Comedy and Its Legacies from Nickelodeons to Youtube — now also available on audiobook!