Summary

Frank Newfeld, ‘type-cast’ (as it were) as a book designer-cum-illustrator, as well as a designer of printed matter for art galleries, gives us a fascinating memoir both from the standpoint of human interest and from the standpoint of his involvement in the book trade — in publishing, editing, illustration, and design. Drawing on Typeis historically valuable in providing a portrait of publishing in Canada in its formative decades.Mr Newfeld was, for many years, Vice-President (Publishing) at McClelland & Stewart.

Preface	p. 9
My First Commission	p. 13
The Waterloo Street Regulars	p. 21
The Gay Hussars	p. 33
Reliable Toy	p. 57
Newfeld/Sorbonne, Paris	p. 73
Grand Arenas	p. 83
Raoul	p. 97
The Burma Road	p. 107
How to Become An Official War Artist	p. 133
Kissufim	p. 157
God Save the Queen	p. 181
Mr Robertson	p. 197
Conceptual Mathematics	p. 213
The Most Gainful Commission	p. 223
Early Days on Simcoe Street	p. 235
Many Faces	p. 259
Alligator Pie	p. 269
The Jaguar Messenger System	p. 291
Authors, Illustrators, Art Directors	p. 299
Many Types	p. 321
Home Is Where	p. 329
Glossary	p. 333
Table of Contents provided by Ingram. All Rights Reserved.

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Excerpts

... I bought a Toronto Starand carefully scanned the Want Ads. There was just the thing! And I had found it on my firstday of job search in my firstCanadian newspaper.... Armed with my Art School portfolio, I arrived at the Wellington Street plant some ten minutes early. I was aware that I would probably have to wait to see Mr Ronald who was surely a busy man. Still, I decided to go in. At the receptionist's desk I explained that I had an appointment with Mr Ronald. She smiled at me, and flicked a switch on her intercom. 'Hey Ron, there's a young man here to see you. I'll send him in, okay?' Canadians seemed to have an overly familiar way to address a vice-president.... Mr Ronald turned out to be a middle-aged, somewhat corpulent gentleman, whose cigar seemed to be the largest thing in his office. He motioned me to a metal folding-chair and handed me a questionnaire to fill out.The questions pertained to name, age, sex, address, next of kin, previous employment ... but nothing to do with education, exhibitions or awards. After filling it out, I handed it to Mr Ronald, and told him that I had brought my portfolio, to which he replied: 'That's good. Can you paint?''Yes, I took Painting at both the Brighton College of Art and Central School of Arts and Crafts in London.''London has an art school? I didn't know that. I thought they only had a County Fairground. Well, good. Do you paint fast?' The first part of this exchange I didn't quite grasp.'Average, I suppose. Would you like to see my portfolio?''In a moment. Are you a neat painter?''I suppose I am. I work in a realistic style. Would you like to see my portfolio?''Not yet. Can you work without supervison?''Actually I prefer to work without supervision.''Do you mind supervison?''Not really, I find it can be helpful in working out problems at my present stage of development. Would you like to see my portfolio?''That won't be necessary. You're hired ...'I realized I had misjudged Mr Ronald! Without even seeing my portfolio he recognized talent. This was obviously a sensitive person.'That's good, kid. Take the service elevator to the fourth floor. There'll be a young lady waiting for you. She'll be your boss, and she'll tell you exactly what she wants done. And call me Ron, eh?'The young lady's name was Vi, and she was at least ten years older than my mother. Her hair was in curlers and she wore a pair of powder blue polyester pants, elasticized at the waist and ankles.... She was waiting for me with a small pushcart, on which I could see four cans with a paintbrush beside each.Vi led me to a large room with long rows of dolls' heads fixed on wooden pegs.... Each head had beautiful red lips, rouged cheeks and delicate eyebrows. There must have been three hundred of these disembodied ''French aristocrats'' at the very minimum. But they were completely sightless!'Your job is to paint their eyes,' Vi explained.