The comic universe is rumbling with the news that Gary Larson’s long-neglected (but still live) website has suddenly been updated with a new comic. The front page of the website, which had not been updated in 20 years, suddenly has a new cartoon featuring the image of a frozen cow (a Larson favorite in his old cartoons) being thawed by a man with a blowtorch. The caption reads, “Uncommon, unreal, and (soon-to-be) unfrozen. A new online era of The Far Side is coming!” Wow, right? Gary Larson was such an international phenomenon with his quirky cartoons, which ran between 1980 and 1995. The cartoonist shocked fans in 1995 when he announced his sudden retirement, saying he’d achieved what he set out to do and it was time to retire.
Larson remains one of the top-selling cartoonists of all time, selling 45 million copies worldwide of his Far Side books. I was the lucky owner of one of those books. I want to share with you how that book was at one time one of the happiest things of my childhood and how it ended up being a symbol of deep betrayal, the catalyst for a lifetime of rage, disappointment, and distrust. Here’s how it all went down. ...
In the early 1980s, my mother took my sister and me to a small independent bookstore, Whistler’s Books, in Overland Park, Kansas, in the suburbs of Kansas City. I don’t recall whether we were there specifically to meet Gary Larson or whether he was there by happenstance, but I remember us being the only ones in the store. My mother bought us each a copy of his book, Beyond The Far Side, the second of his series of 23 books during his career.
I remember the store being rather empty, if not completely empty, and that meant we got some extra time with Larson. I recall how nice he was as he asked our names and began drawing personalized cartoons on the title page of each of our books, inscribing them with custom messages. We were thrilled! I went home and read it a hundred times before tucking it away with my other prized possessions: my baseball card collection and a 1980 Philadelphia Phillies autographed baseball.
So many years later, the dates are a little fuzzy regarding what happened next, but here’s where this story goes off the rails.
I started junior high in the late summer of 1984 and found myself in a class taught by Mr. Everyone’s Favorite Teacher. He was so dynamic and cool, and everyone just loved his class, including me! So, one day he announces a show-and-tell week and encourages everyone to bring an item from home to share with the class. I immediately thought of my prized Gary Larson book.
So I brought the book and shared it with the class, and I remember Mr. Favorite Teacher really enjoyed it, and he stopped me on the way out of class to ask if I would leave it behind so he could look at it more that day. I said, “Okay, Mr. Favorite Teacher. I’ll see you after school!”
After school I went bouncing back to his classroom to pick up the book, and when I asked him for it, a puzzled look came across his face, and he said, “What book?”
Huh? What did he mean, “What book?” This was the book. The book he asked me to leave with him. Mr. Favorite Teacher insisted he knew nothing of the book, and didn’t recall me leaving it with him; and I’ll never forget that he turned to motion with his arm extended toward the classroom as he told me I was welcome to search his classroom, but he didn’t recall me leaving any book.
Mr. Favorite Teacher sat there at his desk while I opened every cabinet, every drawer in his room. I don’t recall how long this went on, but the room was a former science lab room and it was filled with cabinets and drawers. I cried, opening and searching every single one of them while he sat there in silence at his desk, watching the tears roll down my face in desperation as the reality began to set in—Mr. Favorite Teacher was a thief and a liar.
I eventually gave up and cried the entire long walk home. I did not tell my mother at the time because I was afraid that I had done something wrong. I thought she would be angry at me for losing the book. The alternative fear was that she would go to the school to confront Mr. Favorite Teacher, and I would be humiliated by my mother going ballistic on a teacher everyone seemed to love. In a time of puberty and all the misery of junior high, I decided to stay silent, privately grappling with those feelings of betrayal and pain. I hated him for what he had done and I was pained to sit in his classroom for the entire rest of the school year.
Mr. Favorite Teacher stole more than a book. He stole my innocence. He stole my trust in adults. He ruined a happy memory of me, my mom, my sister, and Gary Larson. Honestly, he stole a piece of my childhood, and I will never forgive him.
I have shared this story before on the internet, and people rightfully react with disgust and rage at Mr. Favorite Teacher. I’ve been encouraged to name him publicly, but I resist. He long ago retired, and while I do still have dreams of confronting him, I have no desire to get involved in a public shaming campaign against him more than 35 years later, even though I still feel the anxiety in my chest about this incident, even now as I type out this story today. I also don’t believe he would willingly confess his crime and return the book. He proved himself to be a calloused liar that day as he watched me rummage through his entire classroom. I have no faith he would tell the truth today.
Sometimes I think I’ll wait until I hear the news that he has passed away—after all, in the era of social media, I’m still connected to so many of my classmates and various school reunion pages. Maybe then I’ll find the courage to talk to his adult children, ask them to return the book if they come across it as they go through his things (provided he hasn’t already sold it).
In the meantime, if you come across an autographed Beyond The Far Side with hand drawings from Gary Larson and an inscription to Jennifer, please get a hold of me. That little girl would really love to have her book back, and some little part of her faith in humanity restored.