“Midvale School for the Gifted” originally ran on November 24, 1986. Gary Larson’s comic strip, “The Far Side,” frequently revisits certain themes and motifs, ranging from bovine humor to tales of the Wild West and extraterrestrial adventures. Yet, one of the most beloved backdrops for his humor was undoubtedly the classroom, where he placed his quirky characters in all sorts of absurd educational scenarios.
In what might be considered one of the pinnacle strips from “The Far Side” – and certainly one of the fan favorites – we see the return of the Nerdy Kid, now enrolled in an elite school for the exceptionally bright. However, even the brightest minds have their off moments, and here, in a classic Larson twist, he’s humorously oblivious, pushing with all his might on a door clearly marked “Pull”. This comic has become one of the most celebrated and circulated pieces from Larson’s collection.
Who in the world hasn’t chuckled at Gary Larson’s cartoons?
Gary Larson’s journey to cartooning stardom began rather serendipitously with a submission to the San Francisco Chronicle. Before “The Far Side” became a household name, Larson was just another aspiring cartoonist, working nights as a lab technician and scribbling his oddball cartoons in his spare time. His big break came when he decided to submit his work to the Chronicle in 1979. At the time, Larson’s style was far from the mainstream; his humor was dark, bizarre, and often centered around the absurdities of life, science, and nature.
The editor at the Chronicle, however, saw something special in Larson’s unique approach. His cartoons, which initially went by the name “Nature’s Way,” caught the eye of the paper’s readers almost immediately. They were unlike anything else on the comics page—full of one-liners, anthropomorphic animals, and a peculiar take on human nature. The Chronicle took a chance on Larson, and within a year, “Nature’s Way” was renamed “The Far Side,” marking the beginning of its ascent to national fame. This opportunity with the Chronicle was not just a break but a launchpad; from here, “The Far Side” would spread to hundreds of newspapers across the world, cementing Gary Larson’s place in the annals of comic history.
While Gary Larson’s The Far Side didn’t technically exist yet in 1979, San Francisco Chronicle decision-makers seemed confident that they had a winner on their hands.
Readers on Dec. 31, 1979, were greeted with a full-page advertisement announcing the new strip and featuring six samples — presumably the cartoons that Larson submitted to get the job.
“Laugh in the New Year,” The Chronicle headline read. “The Seventies brought us offbeat humor that we weren’t afraid to laugh at. And the Eighties? Take a trip to ‘The Far Side’ and see for yourself. Weekdays except Wednesdays, starting today on the TV listings page.”
Gary Larson’s “The Far Side” made its debut in The San Francisco Chronicle on Jan. 1, 1980, embedded in the television listings of the newspaper.
Fast-forward to the late 1990s or early 2000s
In the lush, evergreen heart of Seattle, Washington, there’s a hidden gem of a story about a man who once captured the world’s imagination with his quirky, surreal humor. This man is Gary Larson, the mastermind behind “The Far Side,” a comic strip that tickled the funny bones of millions with its unique blend of science, absurdity, and anthropomorphic animals. But since retiring from his cartooning career in 1995, Larson has woven a new narrative, one that’s less about drawing and more about strumming.
Larson, now a sprightly figure with a shock of white hair and a penchant for New Balance sneakers, lives a life as intriguing as any of his cartoons. His home, nestled in a quiet part of Seattle, is a sanctuary of books, guitars, and the occasional sketchpad – not for work, but for personal amusement. The walls are adorned not with his famous cartoons, but with photographs from his travels and posters of jazz legends, hinting at his second love – music.
After hanging up his pen, Larson didn’t completely vanish from the creative scene. Instead, he pivoted to his long-standing passion for music. In his youth, he had played the jazz guitar and banjo, and now, in his retirement, he’s returned to these instruments with a vengeance. His band, “The Far Notes,” is a local secret, known only to those who frequent the intimate jazz clubs and coffee houses of Seattle.
“The Far Notes” isn’t about fame or recreating “The Far Side” in musical form, although Larson’s sense of humor often finds its way into their improvisational jazz sessions. The band is a quartet, with Larson on guitar, joined by an eclectic mix of musicians: a former marine biologist on bass, a retired teacher on drums, and a local artist who plays the saxophone. They meet weekly, practicing in Larson’s garage, which doubles as a music studio, its walls plastered with soundproofing foam and vintage posters.
Their gigs are special events, announced only through word of mouth or small flyers posted in local record shops. These performances are an extension of Larson’s creative spirit, filled with the same unpredictability and wit that defined his cartoons. Each song is like a musical version of a “Far Side” panel – unexpected, thought-provoking, and often ending with a twist or a laugh.
One memorable night at The Triple Door, a venue known for its acoustic intimacy, Larson’s band took the stage. The set began with a jazz standard, but soon, the audience was treated to an original piece titled “Cow Tools,” a playful nod to one of his most enigmatic cartoons. The melody was playful, almost mischievous, mirroring the confusion and delight of the comic’s fans. Between songs, Larson, with his characteristic humility, would share stories, not of his comics, but of his love for jazz, his travels, and the joy of playing music with friends.
These gigs have become a way for Larson to reconnect with his community, offering a glimpse into the man behind the myth. Fans of “The Far Side” sometimes wander in, hoping for a glimpse of the cartoonist, only to leave with a new appreciation for his musical talents. It’s here, in the soft glow of stage lights, that Larson finds a similar joy to that he discovered in drawing – in the spontaneity of music, the connection with an audience, and the sheer pleasure of creation without deadlines.
Gary Larson’s life in Washington, away from the public eye of his cartooning days, is a testament to the multifaceted nature of creativity. His music gigs are not just performances; they’re celebrations of life’s absurdities, much like his cartoons. And while “The Far Side” might be history, “The Far Notes” continue to write new chapters, one note, one laugh at a time.
