Garfield: The Story Behind the Coolest of the Cats

The following is from LIFE’s new special issue Garfield: Greatest. Cat. Ever. (Just ask him.), available at newsstands and online.

Ever since Garfield swaggered onto the pages of 41 American newspapers on June 19, 1978, the rotund feline famous for his love of lasagna, naps, and sarcastic asides has occupied a special place in the cultural consciousness. Lazy, self-centered, and an unrepentant grump, the cat turned out to possess enough deadpan charm to entertain generations of audiences. Trends might come and go, but Garfield is no fad—in fact, he’ll be back on the big screen in 2024’s animated feature The Garfield Movie, voiced by none other than Chris Pratt. 

The character has enjoyed a remarkable run, says creator Jim Davis, precisely because he’s both reliable and relatable, routinely expressing familiar feelings and frustrations. After all, who among us hasn’t wanted to eat pasta and nap all day? And does anyone actually like Mondays? 

“I hold a mirror to the reader and show them [their lives] back with a humorous twist, that’s all,” Davis says. “We’re made to feel guilty for overeating, not exercising, and over-sleeping. Garfield relieves our guilt by enjoying all of those things. More often than not, when someone laughs at a Garfield gag, it’s because they’re thinking, ‘Isn’t that true?!’”

In an age when attaining a satisfying work-life balance seems virtually impossible, and at a time when everyone is constantly asked to do more, achieve more, be better or risk feeling less than, Garfield serves as a potent reminder that some days, the healthier option is just going back to bed. The furry protagonist was clearly ahead of his time when it came to the idea of self-care.

But Garfield was also very much a creature of the 1980s—maybe the creature of the 1980s, a decade that celebrated conspicuous consumption in all its myriad forms and transformed the character into an A-list superstar. During the “greed is good” era, Davis’s comic-strip cat could be found not only in daily newspapers around the globe—when daily newspapers were a thriving concern and most households were subscribers—but also on the New York Times best-seller list, the cover of People magazine, and as a balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. 

That’s in addition to headlining his own Emmy-winning animated TV specials and a Saturday morning cartoon, Garfield and Friends, not to mention the onslaught of merchandise featuring the feline. T-shirts, posters, coffee mugs—you name it, Garfield was on it. At the height of the Garfield craze, people simply couldn’t get enough of the obnoxious yet imminently lovable cat. 

“Garfield was all over the place,” says Robert J. Thompson, professor of popular culture at Syracuse University. “It was a user-friendly comic strip, which means not a whole lot of words and plenty of white space in between. And if you missed [Garfield] in the paper, you saw [him] in the licensing products and in the back windows of people’s cars or the TV specials. … Garfield was pretty much everywhere.”

Although no one could have anticipated just how successful Garfield would become, Davis had high hopes for how the cat might fare. He designed Garfield to appeal to the widest possible audience. In dreaming up the chubby character, Davis studied comic strips that were popular in the late 1970s and took notes. He’d noticed numerous high-profile offerings centering on dogs, most obviously Peanuts, with its anarchic beagle hero Snoopy. So he chose to create something for the world’s many cat lovers, taking inspiration from the felines who lived on his parents’ farm in Fairmount, Indiana.

“I pulled Garfield a little bit from several cats I knew, but more from the fat housecats that lived with my grandparents and friends—cats who had their own chair,” Davis told Entertainment Weekly in 2014. “It was the indoor cats that most influenced [Garfield]. He was also influenced by a lot of people. Basically, Garfield is a human in a cat suit. He exists in a cat’s body and moves like a cat and does many cat-like things, but really his basic personality is hopefully a lot like we all are, way down deep, with just our basic animal urges.”

To flesh out the strip, Davis developed characters—nerdy owner Jon Arbuckle, clueless dog Odie, obnoxious fellow feline Nermal—who could serve as foils for Garfield. As he explained to EW: “Jon has my eternal optimism. That’s me. I’m the guy whose glass is half full, always looking on the bright side of things. He’s a daydreamer, easygoing, puffy cheeks. I have that. … As Garfield is bright and cunning, Odie is not so bright, very accepting. Odie is a free spirit. It’s in the contrasts and the conflicts in the characters that humor is derived. If everybody looked alike and got along, there would be no humor.”

Additionally, Davis decided to omit timely political and cultural references. Garfield exists in a space where years don’t pass, characters don’t age, and no one ever argues about current events. “If you were to mention the football strike, you’re going to be excluding everyone else in the world that doesn’t watch pro football,” Davis explained to the Washington Post in 1982. 

Although critics sometimes groused that the cartoonist played things too safe, the public loved Garfield, and once it took off, Davis almost never wavered from his gag-a-day approach. The comic strip’s visual style was simple, the humor grounded in universally relatable day-to-day experiences, all the better to translate for international audiences. “I don’t use any proper names, I try to use as few colloquialisms as possible, and about the only sport I recognize is golf, which is easily translatable,” Davis told the National Post in 2007. “[If] I have to do a gag that’s based on something I know will be difficult to translate, I always encourage the translators to capture the essence of the gag, the spirit of the gag, and write it for their own vernacular. In fact, for a while, Garfield loved sushi in Japan. Until Italian restaurants opened up and they knew what lasagna was.”

Garfield-mania did abate somewhat as the 1990s gave way to the 21st century, but the character never vanished from view. In 2002, Garfield was named the globe’s most widely syndicated comic strip by the Guinness Book of World Records. It made the leap to the big screen in 2004 with Garfield: The Movie, followed two years later
by a sequel, Garfield: A Tail of Two Kitties. An animated series called The Garfield Show subsequently premiered in America in 2009. 

Garfield-branded merchandise continued to be big business—in 2018, the Guardian reported that the character brought in an estimated $750 million to $1 billion annually worldwide. 

“I say this all the time: Everyone is a fan of something, and they want their fandom to tell the story of who they are,” says Amanda Cioletti, vice president of content and strategy for Informa Markets’ global licensing group. “Engagement with licensed properties can reflect identity and self-expression for audiences. Garfield speaks to many with his frank, no-holds-barred, lasagna-loving self. He’s got a timeless, gruff charm that resonates, no matter the decade.” 

Although Davis sold the rights to Garfield to Viacom in 2019, he continues to play a hands-on role in the creation of the comic strip, ensuring that the characters and humor remain true to its essence. “I work in the same way with the same folks that I have for the last 35 years or so,” Davis says. “I write gags, and a couple of other people submit writing that I edit for use. I have long-time assistants who work on the drawing, inking, and coloring of the strip. I approve, sign, and date each strip before it goes out.” 

The fact that Davis remains so invested in his signature creation sets Garfield apart from some other long-running comic strips that have been passed on to other artists, often to their detriment, says Mike Peterson, who authors the Comic Strip of the Day feature for website Daily Cartoonist: “You get a lot of ‘zombie strips,’ which are strips that have been taken over. The original artists have been dead for 50 years, but the strip goes on. They’re not very imaginative. They’re not very interesting. But Garfield is still being produced. I realize Jim Davis [is] not sitting in a garage someplace scratching that out on Bristol board, but it’s still a fresh strip every day. It’s a new piece.”

That freshness is vital in attracting new readers to Garfield, though, given the precipitous decline in print newspaper circulation, fans young and old have long since begun keeping up with the cat in other media. Davis’s strips can be found online, on such sites as GoComics, and in 2023, Random House published the 75th Garfield book, Garfield Fully Caffeinated. Meanwhile, other creators are penning adventures for the character—people like Judd Winick, the New York Times best-selling creator of Hilo, who grew up on Davis’s comic strips. 

Winick told the website Comic Book Resources that it was a dream come true to be invited to contribute a short to BOOM! Studios’ 2017 graphic novel Garfield: Unreality TV, as he’d loved Garfield since childhood. “When I was 9 or so, it first started to run in my local paper,” Winick told Comic Book Resources. “It was around the same time that the second Garfield collection came out, Garfield Gains Weight. I was just nuts for it. I can’t tell you exactly what it was, but when I was little, I just thought it was so damn funny. Maybe it was because Garfield is so mean, maybe because it was kind of slapsticky, but it just hit me in the right sweet spot back then.”

It’s easy to forget just how revolutionary the notion of Garfield as a kind of lovable antihero was back when the cat first exploded onto the scene, Thompson notes. A protagonist who proudly embraces his flaws—who is, in fact, defined by them—felt entirely new and delightfully subversive. “We were just beginning to see those kinds of characters in the culture,” Thompson says. “Now, of course, it’s commonplace to have non-heroic [protagonists], from Mad Men to Breaking Bad to The Sopranos. They’re all [series about] antiheroes. 

“But Garfield was coming out when that was still relatively new, and there was something appealing about his unapologetic, cynical, sarcastic, lazy, hedonistic, apathetic personality,” Thompson continues. “We had all certainly known cats like that, but we also recognized humans like that. In fact, I think a lot of us recognize portions of ourselves in [Garfield]. If we had someone else feeding us and providing a roof over our head like Garfield did, we would probably be happy to lie around all day, dreaming of lasagna and complaining about Mondays.”

And even though the sassy cat, who celebrated his 45th birthday in 2023, has entered middle age, he remains as witty and wily (and hungry) as he’s always been. Times may change, Davis notes, but Garfield remains the same. “Whether we read the comics over breakfast or after school or work each day, comic strips and their characters become a part of our lives,” Davis says. “They entertain us and make us feel a little better every single day. We can count on the comics. In a world where life is changing almost daily, Garfield still loves lasagna and hates Mondays.”

Here is a selection of the many images in LIFE’s new special issue Garfield: Greatest. Cat. Ever.

Garfield courtesy of Nickelodeon © 2024 by Paws, Inc. All Rights Reserved.

In The Garfield Movie (2024), Chris Pratt voices the title character, while Nicholas Hoult plays pal Jon Arbuckle and Harvey Guillén is Odie.

Courtesy of DNEG Animation

The Garfield Movie (2024) has one scene in which the cat is literally living large, much to the consternation of Odie.

Courtesy of DNEG Animation

A still from the 2006 movie Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties, which mixed animation and live action and had Bill Murray voicing the title character.

Photo by 20th Century Fox/Kobal/Shutterstock

Garfield creator Jim Davis showed a drawing of Odie to the dog who played Odie in Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties (2006).

Gemma La Mana/20th Century Fox/Kobal/Shutterstock

Garfield creator Jim Davis posed with Cathy Kothe in her Long Island home in 2014, Kothe holds the Guinness record for the largest collection of Garfield memorabilia, with more than 6,000 objects.

Courtesy of Cathy and Robery Kothe

For more than 30 years, plastic Garfield phones like this one had been mysteriously washing up on French beaches; the riddle was solved when a shipping container full of them that had been lost during a storm was found in a sea cave.

Fred Tanneau/AFP via Getty Images

“The Synanon Fix” in LIFE

The new Max series The Synanon Fix captures the rise and fall of an organization that began as an well-regarded treatment program for addicts and ended up turning into something more sinister. The full title of the show, which is a documentary, poses the question, “Did the cure become a cult?”

The names of Synanon and its founder, Charles E. Dederich, may be unfamiliar to most people today—the group, which was founded in 1958, disbanded in 1991. But for a time it was a big deal, because people saw Synanon as a revolutionary way of dealing with a scourge that was on the rise. In 1962 LIFE ran a story on Synanon that was fairly glowing, with the headline declaring that the program offered addicts “a tunnel back to the human race,” and the story said “both doctors and narcotics experts look at Synanon as en exciting, practical approach, and even skeptical federal narcotics officers see promise in it.” The pictures from LIFE’s Grey Villet focussed on the anguish of addicts as they sought to get their lives back.

Dederich’s program featured a technique called the Synanon Game, which was an extreme version of group therapy. LIFE described it as “a dozen or so persons seated in a circle, telling the truth about each other, interrelating. Verbally, anything goes and the games are sometimes brutal, although never physically violent.”

Over the years Synanon evolved from a therapy into a way of life, with many adherents living on the Synanon compounds. When LIFE returned for a major profile of Dederich in 1969, the founder was more at the center of the story, which featured photographs from Ralph Crane and Fred Lyon. Dederich was by then already a polarizing figure. Here’s how that story opened:

A madman with delusions of grandeur. A saint. An opportunist. A brilliant executive. Latter-day Socrates. Loud, arrogant egotist. Hilarious comic. An earthquake. A herd of one elephant. Charles E. Dederich has been called all that, and more.

And again, that was before things really started to go sour, which they would, especially in the 1970s, after LIFE had ended its original run. A passage from a history of Synanon which appeared in TIME in advance of the Max series shows how disturbing the world of Synanon became in its later years:

As Synanon’s eccentric leader Dederich started to decline, so did the organization. He began drinking again after his wife died in 1977 and remarried soon after. Then, he decided everyone in Synanon would also benefit from remarrying, and called for wife-swapping. Suddenly, men and women who were married to one another at Synanon were divorcing and marrying different people affiliated with the organization.

After encouraging people to raise families at Synanon, he called for residents to be childless. Men started to get vasectomies, like Mike Gimbel, who credits Synanon for getting him clean and worked for the organization in the 1970s. He says in the series that he was in love with his wife, but they decided to separate when Dederich called for wife-swapping. When she got pregnant, she got an abortion because they were afraid of running afoul of Dederich. As he puts it in the final episode, “Synanon saved my life, but screwed it up too.”

The group was at its most extreme when it attacked a lawyer who had successfully sued Synanon on behalf of former members. Two Synanon members placed a live rattlesnake inside the lawyer’s home mailbox, and those members were eventually convicted of attempted murder.

With that level of drama its no wonder that, so many years later, documentarians have returned to this fascinating story.

Synanon founder Charles E. Dederich at a treatment center, 1962.

Grey Villet/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles E. Dederich talked to an addict who had come with his mother in an attempt to get clean, 1962.

Grey Villet/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon Founder Charles E. Dederich posed at the group’s research and development center in California, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles E. Dederich, 1968.

Fred Lyon/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Charles E. Dederich (center) at work with other Synanon members, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles Dederich spoke at a gathering in Oakland, 1968.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Charles E. Dederich with a group of Synanon members, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles Dederich, 1968.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles Dederich, 1968.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles Dederich (left), 1968.

Ralph Crane/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles E. Dederich, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles Dederich in his office, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Synanon founder Charles E. Dederich relaxed in his office while blowing a tune on the recorder, 1968.

Fred Lyon/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Boat with “Live Ballast” Required

If you were looking for a relaxing afternoon on the water, the log canoe would not be the boat for you.

In its Aug. 9, 1954 issue, LIFE magazine wrote about a temperamental and demanding form of watercraft that was popular in the Chesapeake Bay area. The magazine described the log canoe as ‘fast, easily flipped, and tricky to handle.”

Tricky sounds like an understatement. In a log canoe the crew members had to place their body weight on boards that were propped up in the boat and extended out over the water. They did this in order to keep the boat from tipping. What’s worse was that if the winds shifted, the crew would have to dismount and move the boards to the other side of the boat and then mount them again, all without capsizing the boat in the process.

Here’s how LIFE put it:

It requires a crew of nimble-footed gymnasts whose chores are as precarious as a tightrope walker’s. Because the slightest breeze will capsize it unless the towering masts and a 1,000-square-foot expanse of sail are counterbalanced by human ballast, the crew extends boards out from the windward side and scrambles out on them to maintain the delicate equilibrium. When the wind shifts or the easily tipped craft comes about on a different tack, the boards must be shifted from one side to the other in maneuvers that require precise teamwork and add an exhilarating touch to the ancient art of sailing.

The log canoe may have required expertise to sail, but it was also picturesque, as evidenced by the photos taken by LIFE staff photographer George Skadding. And as impractical as these boats may seem, they continue to be part of the local flavor in the Chesapeake area today, with log canoe regattas running through the summer.

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picutre Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picutre Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

A log canoe sailboat sailing in the sea, during the race at the Chesapeake Bay, July 1954.

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Log Canoe sailboats racing on the Chesapeake Bay, 1954; crew members needed to hang over the side to keep the boats balanced.

George Skadding/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Coca-Cola Comes to France!

In 1950, LIFE Photographer Mark Kauffman captured the so-called “Coca-Colonization” of the sugary soft drink’s formal introduction to France. The drink had been unofficially available for consumption in France before World War II, and the first bottle was imported to Bordeaux in 1919. However, the American company began an energetic marketing campaign in France in 1950 to maximize the popularity the drink had gained in the United States. 

Created in the late 19th century as a pseudo-medicinal beverage, Coca-Cola soon became a sweet, artificial refreshment that reflected American capitalism, culture, and society. And while Coca-Cola was initially based on French coca wine, the people of France were skeptical of the first widely-marketed, flavorful nonalcoholic beverage. 

Coca-Cola Comes to France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Coca-Cola crew giving a free taste in France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

The French did not want their country to be overtaken by American enterprises and so they tried to prevent the mass production of ‘Coke’ (as the beverage would come to be known) in France. Today, however, the beverage is manufactured in France, and all across Europe, although the recipe varies slightly from the original American version.

Squeezing through the narrow streets of Paris, and zooming past iconic landmarks in the French capital, Mark Kauffman snapped photographs of a Coca-Cola delivery truck bringing the beverage to the people of France in 1950. “Buvez Coca-Cola Bien Glace” (translated to “Drink Ice Cold Coca-Cola”) emblazoned on the vehicle captured the attention of both the young and old. However, skeptics of the drink also ranged in age, and winegrowers in the famous wine region strongly suggested that the drink was addictive. 

A man in a beret spits a mouthful of Coca-Cola at the camera – Paris, France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Skeptical French winemaker tasting Coca-Cola for the first time, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Regardless of the initial protest against the splendidly sweet beverage, the French government granted Coca-Cola a license in 1952 and the consumption in France officially began. However, even today, on a per capita basis, the French drink less Coke than any other European country. The sugary beverage may still be popular worldwide, but scroll through the rest of the gallery below to see initial reactions to Coca-Cola coming to France! 

Couple drinking Cola-Cola at a French Cafe in Paris, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Coca-Cola Comes to France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Coca-Cola truck driving past Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Woman drinking Coca-Cola at a wine shop in Paris, France – 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Coca-Cola representative pouring a glass of Coke for a Parisian to taste, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Coca-Cola truck driving though Paris, France – 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

A Coca-Cola delivery driver sits in the open door of his truck while on a break, France, 1950. (Mark Kauffman/LIFE Picture Collection)

Craving more Coke? Click here to view images of vintage Coca-Cola ads all across the world!

Benjamin Franklin: The Embodiment of the American Ideal

The following is excerpted from the new LIFE special edition Benjamin Franklin: The Patriot Who Changed the World, available at newsstands and online:

On August 27, 1783, a week before he signed the Treaty of Paris that ended the American Revolution, Benjamin Franklin and his grandson Temple stood with 50,000 Parisians on the Champ de Mars, a large field where the Eiffel Tower now looms. There they watched as the first hydrogen-filled balloon took flight. The rubberized silk sphere soared for 45 minutes and covered 13 miles. When one of the onlookers asked, “What good is it?” Franklin responded, “What purpose does a newborn child have?”

That late summer day, Franklin could not have dreamed of what would become of the newly conceived United States, which had just emerged from seven years of war with Great Britain. Nor could the man whom the early-20th-century historian Frederick Jackson Turner called “the first great American” have imagined as a youth how the trajectory of his life would bring him to the banks of the Seine. In his early years, Franklin was a fervent imperialist, who in 1751 was among the earliest to suggest a united confederation for the British colonies of North America so they could protect themselves from England’s enemies. Yet by 1776 he had renounced his love for king and country; wholly dedicated his life, fortune, and sacred honor to the nascent cause of liberty; and, with Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and others, crafted the Declaration of Independence. Then, needing help for their seemingly quixotic revolt against the world’s most powerful nation, Franklin headed to France, where he used his charm to convince the empire to financially and militarily nurse the infant anti-monarchical country. After negotiating the treaty with England, he accepted the call in 1787 to help redesign America’s federal government and became one of the fathers of the United States Constitution.

Very few Americans did as much as Franklin to make the United States possible. He could envision what others could not, and this made him one of the great minds of the Enlightenment. Even so, he is recalled as the most grandfatherly and folksy of America’s founders, not severe like George Washington, intimidating like Thomas Jefferson, nor prickly like Alexander Hamilton. According to Adams, Franklin “had wit at will. He had humor that when he pleased was delicate and delightful. He had a satire that was good- natured or caustic . . . at his pleasure. He had talents for irony, allegory, and fable that he could adapt with great skill, to the promotion of moral and political truth. He was master of that infantine simplicity which the French call naivete, which never fails to charm.”

The son of an impoverished Boston tallow-candle maker, Franklin started out with minimal advantages. Yet early on he showed sparks of brilliance, clear signs that his was a life of potential. He rejected his parents’ fundamental Puritanism, read religiously, and worshipped what in the 20th century became known as the Protestant work ethic. This made him the proto-embodiment of the Horatio-Alger ethos of social mobility. With just two years of formal education, the teenage Franklin rebelled against the restrictions of his printer’s apprenticeship, fled for Philadelphia, and within a few years became a successful artisan, expertly crafting his hardworking public image so fellow citizens could not help but notice that he was a man worth watching.

But Franklin refused to hog the limelight. America in the early 18th century was a youthful place lacking much of the class restrictions of Europe. Franklin assisted others to get ahead. He not only started groups for Philadelphians like himself who aspired to more, but he  imparted advice through his wildly popular Poor Richard’s Almanack, such as that the way to wealth “depends chiefly on two Words, INDUSTRY and FRUGALITY.”

While he packed his almanac with pithy sayings, he also believed in the importance of a free press and an informed public. His brother James had been imprisoned after leaders in Boston took offense at articles in his New-England Courant. So when Franklin bought the Pennsylvania Gazette, he wrote that “Printers are educated in the Belief that when Men differ in Opinion, both Sides ought equally to have the Advantage of being heard by the Publick, and that when Truth and Error have fair Play, the former is always an overmatch for the latter.”

Franklin deeply believed that it was good to do good, and his professional achievements became a means to greater ends. For him, a devotion to public service allowed him to work on the grand level, like the Treaty of Paris, as well as on local issues that impacted his neighbors, such as fire protection and passable city streets. And Franklin’s open mind made him constantly question things. It caused him to wonder about the nature of nature. His observations about lightning sent him out on what seemed the foolhardy hoisting of a kite during a storm and led to a profound understanding of the connection between electricity and lightning. As an inventor-cum-craftsman, he sought practical uses for his discoveries, creating things like lightning rods to protect homes, a better stove to heat frigid colonial houses, and an improved soup bowl for use on wave-tossed ships.

Ultimately, as someone keenly concerned about his own failings—“I was surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined,” he noted in The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin—he sought to correct them. He had once supported enslavement, an institution he would fight against in his twilight years. Even in death, he continued his encouragement of his fellow citizens. The posthumous publication of his autobiography is the most popular accounting of a life, with historian Louis Wright noting how his “homely aphorisms and observations have influenced more Americans than the learned wisdom of all the formal philosophers put together.”

Benjamin Franklin is proof of the American dream, the ability of the common citizen to rise through by-your-bootstraps work, pragmatism, and levelheaded smarts. His example shows that all of us have the potential for greatness.

Here are a selection of images from Benjamin Franklin: The Patriot Who Changed the World:

Fine Art Images/Heritage Images/Hulton/Getty

An undated illustration of Benjamin Franklin as a young boy, selling his own ballads.

Bettmann/Getty

An illustration of the structure and appearance of a waterspout, from an article by Benjamin Franklin.

SSPL/Getty

A portrait of Benjamin Franklin from 1767, when he was in London; he had come there ten years earlier to advocate for Pennsylvania, and continued to live there primarily through 1775.

History/Universal Images Group/Getty

Benjamin Franklin (left), with John Adams and Thomas Jefferson during the drafting of the Declaration of Independence, 1776.

Universal History Archive/Universal Images Group/Getty

Ben Franklin, left, at the signing of the U.S. Constitution, 1787.

Henry Hintermeister/Wikimedia

Ben Franklin went to France in 1776 to rally support for America during the Revolutionary War.

Buyenlarge/Archive Photos/Getty

A 1790 illustration of Benjamin Franklin on his deathbed; he died of pleurisy at age 84.

Bettmann/Getty

A portrait of Franklin circa 1770.

Stock Montage/Archive Photos/Getty

Vintage Venice, In and Out of Season

The ancient city of Venice draws 30 million visitors a year, and for good reason. The canals, the architecture, the art, the food, the singular beauty—there’s no place in the world like it. The city’s only drawback, you could argue, is its popularity with tourists (and the many, many shops that cater to them).

LIFE photographers ventured to this picturesque city many times for many reasons—popping in on Peggy Guggenheim, for example—but this story is built off two shoots by Dmitri Kessel. Both were done in the 1950s, and they are very different. Kessel shot Venice in 1959 during the peak of summer with a focus on the American tourists who thronged there, and the other shoot was done in 1952, in winter, when the streets were largely empty and also flooded in areas, as tends to happen that time of year.

The moods could not be more different. During the summer a navy of gondoliers rule the waterways and visitors fill Piazza San Marco, or St. Mark’s Square, while in the winter those boats are all tied up. The two constants are the stunning architecture and the pigeons. Even in the winter, a local woman finds the time to give the birds a little attention.

The real message of this shoots is that Venice is beautiful in every circumstance.

American tourists sightseeing in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in a gondola in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Tourists in a gondolas, Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Americans in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists gathering in Saint Mark’s Square in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in a gondola, Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American tourists in Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Venice, Italy, 1959.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Moored gondolas on a foggy Grand Canal in Venice, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The Doge’s Palace on a rainy day in the Piazza San Marco in Venice, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Pedestrians threading their way along makeshift wooden sidewalk across a flooded Piazza San Marco during its usual winter condition, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A flooded Venice, Italy in the winter of 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Moored gondola on Grand Canal in front of Piazza San Marco during off-season in Venice, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Moored gondolas in canal that runs between ancient buildings of Venice, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The flooded Piazza San Marco during off-season in Venice, Italy, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Venice, Italy during off-season, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A local woman fed the pigeons in the Piazza San Marco on a rainy day, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Pigeons flocking above pedestrians crossing Piazza San Marco on a rainy Venice day, 1952.

Dmitri Kessel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

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