Last week, we promised to bring you more rare and riveting insight into the life of Palmer Cox, as found in celebrated 1800s children's magazine St. Nicholas. Here it is:

After the Brownies rose to prominence at the dawn of the 20th century, Palmer Cox became a household name--and fan mail from the children of those houses began pouring into Cox's centrally located Manhattan studio.

His dedication to children propelled him to prolificness. It also didn't hurt that the children's letters provided him a great deal of feedback about which Brownies they found most endearing and wanted to see more of.

Though the bulk of the letters would have it seem that the Dude emerged as the most precious of the Brownies, some notable correspondence from young readers proved that each Brownie had his distinct audience.

One girl heralded the Cadet as her favorite: "He looks so brave in the menagerie holding on to the snake's tail."

Another boy wondered of the Policeman, "Is he as bad as the cop on our beat?"

By far, one of the most touching missives came from a small boy who confided, "Before I came to mama and papa, my two brothers died, so the Brownies have been little brothers to me instead."

Those who knew Cox personally often expressed that his life was consecrated to children and that he preferred their friendship to adults'. So tireless was his devotion to young people that he responded to every single child's written or verbal request for a personalized Brownie drawing. Cox himself estimated that, during the course of his illustrious career, he'd drawn over one million Brownies.

Though Cox spent the bulk of his career drawing at 656 Broadway in Manhattan, the last years of his life found him retired to two locations--autumns and summers at Granby, Quebec, Canada, not far from where he'd been born, and winters and springs in East Quogue village on Long Island.

It was at Granby that he built an almost palatial residence he aptly named "Brownie Castle." To further personalize the place, he hung a Brownie flag, which neighbors spotted daily soaring, and a Brownie weathervane that spun at the whim of the wind.

Granby's population was elated to find "the Brownie Man" to be such a welcoming presence and took to celebrating each of his birthdays with grand festivities. One year, every child in town confabbed to send Cox postcards, extending their best birthday wishes. The postmaster gathered them all and delivered them in mass. Their collective effort yielded a body of cards large enough to fill a whole room in Brownie Castle!

Perhaps such love and appreciation was responsible for Cox's continued creation, well into old age. When he began his last and most lavish undertaking, The Brownies and Prince Florimel, he was 80 years old. Cox is quoted in St. Nicholas as having this to say of the daunting and determined endeavor, "At first, when I tried to draw, my hand shook and trembled so that I had to steady it by holding it with the other, but soon it grew firm, and I think God must have given me strength to do the work."

As intricate and inventive as any illustrations he'd ever drawn, the works in The Brownies and Prince Florimel is believed to be among Cox's best.

As the weathered age of 84, Cox passed on, leaving behind a celebrated legacy as one of the most enduring and classic illustrators of the comics world's Platinum Age.


Why Did Palmer Cox Create New Art for Children Until He was 80?

We can assume that Cox's career continued well into his twilight years because the popularity of the Brownies sustained his relevance. In fact, any writer or artist of children's literature who perseveres in production of great work into old age does so because he has a wealth of wisdom to share and recognizes that the art is his platform. Because our society has a reviled reputation of discarding its elderly, the average stranger advanced in age does not expect the opportunity to encounter youth and offer them well-considered and hard-earned philosophies on life. The children's artist can reach a greater number of young people with his inherent revelations, spoonfed in word balloons and caption boxes--and probably for a longer period of time--than even the child's most beloved grandparent.

How do you feel about our assessment of Cox's refusal to retire? In your opinion, were he and artists like him (Charles Schulz, Hal Foster and Carl Barks spring immediately to mind) taking a stand against society's views on the relevance of the elderly? Has their work--and your fond childhood memories of it--had a lifelong impact on you?

Answer these questions--and pose others--by emailing us here: bstacia@gemstonepub.com.

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		This is Cox's epitaph, as it appears at St George's Anglican Church cemetery.