Remembering Buddy Rose
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| Author | Rod "Al Rod" Rodriguez |
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| Subject | Buddy Rose |
| Genre | Member Spotlight |
| Published | EF Issue 2015.2 |
| Pages | 26-31 |
| Website |
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This article honoring Buddy Rose was written by Rod "Al Rod" Rodriguez and appears on pages 26-31 in Exaggerated Features Issue 2015.2.
Article Transcript
I first met Buddy Rose in the spring of ’89. I was 23 and just moved to Texas, looking for something, not quite sure what that was. I think I was just looking to get outta Florida and see what else was out there. I’d already had a few years of drawing caricatures under my belt at Busch Gardens in Tampa and some gig experience, but wasn’t sure if that was going to be part of my professional future at that point. I just knew I needed to find work when I moved to the Lone Star State, so I started with what I knew how to do, and that was drawing big heads with tiny bodies. So, finding myself living near Six Flags Over Texas in Arlington, I naturally stopped in there and asked who I needed to talk to about drawing caricatures. I was referred to Mike of M Enterprises, who had the concession at the time, and he seemed pleased with my samples, so much so that he thought I needed to hook up with Buddy Rose. “Who’s this Buddy Rose you speak of?” I asked, and Mike told me Buddy was the man in Dallas I needed to meet if I wanted to start working gigs in the area, and he gave me his number. Mike hired me, but I also called Mr. Rose to see if he could offer me anything. Next thing I know, I’m driving into Dallas and meeting Buddy for the first time. Buddy welcomed me with open arms (figuratively, not literally). Pretty sure it was just a hand shake. But I felt quite welcomed nonetheless. Buddy was very much established by this time. In fact I’d go as far as calling him the Caricature Baron of Dallas (my term, not his). From what he told me, if there was an event in Dallas where they wanted a caricature artist, most likely he was going to get called for it, either directly or indirectly. He was the main source for caricaturists in Dallas. And before I knew it, Buddy was booking me on gigs. Sure, he made me wear that damn beret, tuxedo shirt with black slacks, bow tie and suspenders to every freakin’ gig, even those hotter-thanhell picnic ranch gigs where they’d make us sit under a tree and draw, but hey, I was working as a caricaturist! It was still better than what they made you wear working at Six Flags. Now, before I met Buddy, I could probably count all of the caricaturists I personally knew on one hand. But working with him, that number definitely multiplied, and I saw for the first time how this caricaturing thing could be more than I ever thought. For the next eight years, Buddy was my main source for caricature gigs, and I learned so many things along the way. Buddy had taken me in and practically made me a family member. Some of my earliest memories of my time with him are going out to eat with him and his family. His boys, Wally and Harrison, were just small kids at the time. I’m Cuban and Puerto Rican, so to make me feel more at home after just meeting him, Buddy took me to a TexMex restaurant. Not at all the same food, but I appreciated the sentiment. I had so many firsts with Buddy. With him, I worked my first bar mitzvah, my first state fair, my first trade show, and my first gig in Vegas. And with him, I came into contact with so many other caricaturists. This was before the age of the Internet and cellphones. We didn’t have websites, Facebook, Twitter or Instagram. Advertising back then was pretty much the Yellow Pages or ads you’d run in magazines or newspapers. In some ways, this was a golden age for me. I was in my 20s, learning and evolving so much. I wish I could’ve appreciated it more at the time. But Buddy wasn’t one to just coast along. He was like this mad scientist of caricatures. He often dared to dream things most were too timid to consider, or not crazy enough to, at least. He was always looking for ways to grow the business, not just for him but for all the other artist friends he knew. He always wanted everyone to benefit with him. Thus was born the idea for the National Caricaturist Network (NCN), later to become ISCA. Now, perhaps I remember this differently, but I recall the NCN starting out as a national booking agency of caricaturists. Over the years, Buddy had collected contacts of artist all over the place and thought if he could advertise in major markets around the country and get an 800 number, he could book artists all over the place. This is when I first started to realize how many working caricaturists there were in the U.S. and abroad. Problem is, it was still Yellow Page advertising back then, and it was expensive, especially for any kind of display ad. So that idea didn’t get too far, but what else could we do with all of these caricaturists? I remember thinking how crazy a convention for caricature artists sounded back then. “Like really?” I laughed. But Buddy was serious and moving forward with it. He talked about planning the first convention and competition in Cozumel, Mexico. Still not sure why Mexico was the place to do this, other than him liking to visit there a lot and having a nephew who lived there. Seems like organizing something like this for the first time would just be made more difficult in a foreign land with a different language and culture. But what do I know? Of course, it wasn’t just planning a convention. He had a lawyer pal helping to designate the NCN as a union, and then a nonprofit? I don’t remember it all, much of this being a blur now. There was a bit of pot smoking at Rose Studio back then. But the NCN also needed a face for the rest of the time when caricaturists weren’t at a convention. None of us really knew anything about putting a newsletter together. But it just so happen around this time that I was trying to figure out this whole “desktop publishing” thing. I’d gone to school for graphic design and commercial art, but the whole industry had changed overnight. The ebbs and flows of gigs had forced me to revisit my initial career path, just to find out that I was ill-equipped to do so. So I bought my first Mac, a Mac Classic at the time, and got a copy of PageMaker and began to teach myself how to work this stuff. And I thought there was no better way to learn the software than to take on the very first NCN newsletter. So I volunteered to do it. It wasn’t much to look at. But it was clean looking. I spent hours working on it with my 9-inch monochrome display and 40MB hard drive. And so, the NCN was born and artists were joining. Not sure what the numbers were at the time, but I do recall there being 15 artists in Cozumel for the first convention. I didn’t make it to Cozumel for the first or second convention but did for the third, and the first one in Las Vegas. That Vegas convention was a hot mess, 75 artists spread out all over town, meeting at the mall to draw every day. Why? Was this a competition or experiment gone wrong? But the seminars in the evenings at some school were interesting. Nonetheless, this convention literally changed my life. I can go on and on about all the artists I met there who are still a part of my life today or have had some influence on me since. I met some of my closest friends there. Meanwhile, Buddy’s life was all consumed by the NCN, and not in good, healthy way. It was taking a toll on his marriage among other aspects of his life. I had done that first newsletter, but I’d gotten too busy to work on the following ones, and Buddy was doing them himself. God bless him, those were some hideous looking newsletters. I’d try to help out at times, going to his house, trying to fix the design nightmare he’d created. But they were often too far gone in most cases for the little time I had to spend on them. Either way, Buddy forged ahead until the following year when he decided to turn the NCN over to the control of the artists themselves. The fourth NCN convention, right after Vegas, was set to be in San Antonio, and Buddy had it all arranged to transfer the ownership of the NCN from him to the members. This required all sorts of paperwork, meetings, elections of officers and a board of directors, and documents to sign. Buddy selected Kid Cardona, Dan Dunn and myself as the officers to sign the original constitution for the NCN, which we did in front of the Alamo before the official elections of the officers and board of directors. It was an exciting time, and a huge gift that Buddy Rose was giving to all of us. Buddy wasn’t always the most tactful person. His ego and passionate approach often rubbed many people the wrong way, and, like most of us, he had his own insecurities. To many who didn’t always play well with him, the NCN was often referred to as “that Buddy thing.” But Buddy wanted it to be a “caricaturists’ thing.” He truly sacrificed so much to get the NCN up and rolling. The first few years of the NCN after that were pretty rocky. Some wondered if it would survive, myself included. But Buddy was always willing to step in and save it if he needed to. After that, Buddy and his wife split. He had that strange, long episode with the accident that hurt his drawing hand. He moved to Colorado and eventually to Vegas, where he remade himself as the Las Vegas Caricature Baron (my term, not his). Found love again and became a father all over. He pursued other ventures but always stayed close to caricaturing. I ran into Buddy a few years back in Vegas while working a trade show, and we got to hang out some. He was still the same. Doing what he did. Running their caricature business and talking about the next great thing he was gonna do to provide more work for artists. I was the one there who was different now. No longer the inexperienced artist. In so many ways, I had become a version of Buddy. I now run my own caricature business in Miami, booking myself and other artists, doing my best to be fair and honest with all whom I work with, and I learned to do this by watching Buddy all of those years. When I was asked to write this piece, I was kind of hesitant. I felt, and still feel, like I only knew a small part of Buddy Rose. Surely I’m not qualified to write this all on my own. This is only my impression of who he was. He was a complicated man who came into contact, befriended and helped countless artists over the years. He wasn’t perfect but always tried to play fair and do his best. So many of the artists I know who knew him surely have their own Buddy stories. Buddy lost his long struggle with pancreatic cancer. He didn’t go without a fight. In the end, I hope most will remember him for all the good he did for the art of caricatures, as well as that squinty eyed smile he’d get when something tickled him just right. I’ll miss ya, Buddy.
Back in 1992, when a friend of mine named Texas Tim said, “How would you like to go to Cozumel to a caricature artist convention?” I had just begun to draw caricatures. I had been a confirmed portrait artist until then. Going to that convention changed my life. Buddy Rose changed my life...and to an extent the other twelve people who went. Buddy was extremely generous with his money, his time, and his love. His favorite expression was “Love ya man!” and he used it for all of us. The next year he did it again, paid almost all of the costs of the convention out of his own pocket. We were a larger group: 25 of us. The next year was in Las Vegas, about 54 people. Next year 100. It’s been around 200 attendees ever since. And now we are international! Thank you Buddy, for daring to corral a bunch of “cats” and succeeding...and then giving up “your baby” when the group became an independent organization. You’re our hero. Love ya man! -Eve Myles
From Dave ‘Bippy’ Boyer, Rochester, New York - Buddy Rose was an artist and a man of vision. Buddy wanted to elevate caricature to a higher level so the general public could understand that these artists are hard-working. And the caricaturists are creating truly amazing art that’s one of a kind. I served a short time as treasurer of the National Caricaturist Network (NCN). I remember the day that I received the treasury from Buddy. Naturally I expected a check. Instead he gave me an envelope with several thousand dollars cash in it. I was taken aback. I even wondered if I could bring that kind of cash on a plane trip. He simply smiled and said, “I trust you. We trust you. You’ll take care of it.” That was pure Buddy. From this group photo taken at the third annual caricature convention March 1994, to the detail that Buddy Rose and his editor assistants did on the copy paper stapled quarterly newsletters, one can see that there was a very high amount of energy and people participation to grow NCN which would later become ISCA. For me, Buddy Rose took a very personal interest in my growing the skill of caricature. I think Buddy did that for almost everybody who joined the organization. That personal touch meant a great deal for me. I’m not sure that all officers find the time to go out of their way and reach out positively to fledging individual members. But Buddy Rose did that very consistently. Myself and many others will miss Buddy’s encouragement and affirmation.
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