John Ficarra was the editor of Mad magazine from 1985 to 2018.
The Quality Paperback Book Club knew how to catch your eye. In the 1980s and ’90s, it ran a series of ads in magazines and newspapers, these pages included. Cleverly worded and visually distinct, many of them featured small, full-body caricatures of literary giants: Mark Twain, John Updike and, my favorite, Ernest Hemingway. The genius behind the drawings was an illustrator named Gerry Gersten.
I’m not much of a joiner — I never did become a member of QPB — but I pored over their ads every chance I got. I would savor every playful turn of a phrase, carefully examining every detail in Gersten’s work. When I became co-editor of Mad magazine with Nick Meglin in 1985, getting Gersten into the fold was high on our wish list. Gersten was well-regarded and in demand. We knew the odds of landing him were slim, but we took a shot and, after a little cajoling, scored a meeting.
On the day Gersten arrived at our Manhattan offices, Meglin and I were talking with George Woodbridge, a longtime Mad illustrator, who was delivering an assignment. His art was spread across my sofa. As Gersten walked by, Meglin immediately cracked a zinger he inflicted on every artist, every time they walked through the Mad hallways.
“Ah, Gersten, come in and see what real artwork looks like!”
His jaw dropped at the perceived insult. Well-dressed in a tweed sports coat, button-down shirt and tie, Gersten was accustomed to respect from the editors and advertising execs he normally dealt with. That wasn’t a concept normally associated with Mad’s freewheeling and snarky offices, where everyone and everything was fair game.
Nonetheless, he warily ventured into my office and was quickly wowed by Woodbridge’s work. We then launched into our pitch. Several great caricaturists were already contributing to the magazine, but none whose style was like his. We had a parody of Edgar Allan Poe’s poem, “The Raven,” called “The Reagan,” by writer Frank Jacobs, and wanted Gersten to create a full-page illustration to run opposite the verse. Unlike the tightly controlled Madison Avenue world he was accustomed to, we offered him free rein.
Despite whatever initial misgivings he had with us, he was intrigued and agreed to take on the assignment. Two weeks later, Gersten delivered a magnificent piece: a head-and-shoulders profile of the president with a long raven beak and a feathered body. It was elegant, sophisticated, funny. Exactly what we’d hoped for.
While Gersten was there, another longtime Mad artist, Angelo Torres, walked by. “Ah, Torres,” Meglin called out. “Come in and see what real artwork looks like!” Gersten smiled. He suddenly understood he was on his way to becoming one of Mad’s “usual gang of idiots.”
The day after Gersten’s piece was published, I received two phone calls. The first was from Mad’s founding editor, Harvey Kurtzman, who wanted to know how we managed to land Gersten, whom he called “a top-flight illustrator.” The second call was from Gersten, wanting to know when he could pick up another assignment.
In the 32 years that followed, Gersten contributed dozens of memorable pieces to the magazine. We also became close friends, sharing lunches, phone calls and laughs, traveling through Europe together on Mad trips. He was sitting in my office when the call came in that I was going to be a father, joyously sharing with me one of the most memorable days of my life.
Gerry Gersten died in 2017 at age 89.
All of this is prologue to a bit of serendipitous good fortune that recently befell me.
While scrolling on eBay, I stumbled on a listing for the original art of Gersten’s QPB Hemingway drawing, the piece that first attracted me to his work, spurred his Mad career and sparked our 32-year friendship. It was a mere $349.77. Cheap! I could scarcely believe my luck, quickly clicking the “Buy Now” button.
When the art arrived, it exceeded my expectations. Classic Gersten, the caricature is pencil on vellum and breathtakingly great. At 17 by 13 inches, it is surprisingly larger than the 3-by-2-inch illustration that appeared in the QPB ad.
There is a Latin phrase that speaks to how art can help man attain symbolic immortality: ars longa, vita brevis. “Art is long, life is short.” Gerry Gersten may be gone, but a piece of him and his genius still lives in the framed drawing prominently hanging in my home office.
It’s nice to be back in the company of my old friend.
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