MEETING JO MORA
In a country that grew up on stories of the West, a place where Frederic Remington and Charles Russell illustrated for us the life of the cowboy, where Zane Grey told us stories, and television glorified every Western icon from Roy Rogers to Wyatt Earp, Jo Mora’s name is notable for its lack of recognition. That oversight is lamentable. Jo Mora is an artist, a cartographer, an historian, an illustrator, a sculptor, a cartoonist, an explorer, and much, much more. His life and his work are a veritable textbook of the West, full of the romance and adventure that we associate with that era.
Surprisingly, in spite of the dominance of the American West in his work, Mora was not a native-born American. His parents emigrated from Uruguay in 1880, when Jo was 4 years old, and lived first in New York, a far cry from the Wild West. Jo studied art in New York and Boston-- at one time under the painter, William Merritt Chase. Jo’s father was a renowned sculptor in his native Spain, and his brother also became well-known as an artist. As a boy, Jo was fascinated with the West and, as a young man, ultimately traveled there, living among the Hopi and Navajo Indians, learning their languages and studying their way of life. He documented his studies with sketches and watercolors of their ceremonies and daily activities, offering the world a window into these little-known cultures. Later, these experiences among Native Americans informed his 1936 carte of Indians of North America.
I first encountered Joseph Jacinto Mora at an antiquarian book and map fair. It is easy to see why I noticed his work. In the rather subdued background of a map fair, a Mora map stands out with its vibrant color and its humanity. Here was something different: a maker of colorful, amazing historical maps. In my experience, maps were dry and dull additions to geography texts, showing factual information: boundaries, cities, roads, railroad lines, mountains and valleys, bodies of water, and any number of topographical features. But Jo’s maps were pictorial maps, and that is what captured me. Mora told stories… illustrated stories. He humanized his maps with detailed facts and illustrations, with people and commentary, making it impossible to dismiss his work with a brief glance. He draws you into the world of the map itself, and directs you to points of interest via his cartoons of its inhabitants.
The 1927 carte of California, his 1945 version of the same, and his map of San Diego are prime examples of Mora’s expertise. It would take months to unpack all the information from these cartes. The Californiacartes present the hikers in Yosemite, as well as the realtors giving their spiels to potential homeowners in San Diego. There is even a boatload of smugglers depicted off the coast of San Diego with their Prohibition-defying bottles of liquor. Trailing down one border are illustrations of each of Father Serra’s missions. Mora himself traveled that mission road himself on horseback.
Mora’s map takes advantage of the oddly-bent shape of the state, using its border with Nevada to define a linear map section on the evolution of transportation in the state. Surmounting that triangular section, there are linear treatments of conquest history, from Indians through the conquistadors to the present. These inhabitants, including soldiers, settlers and laborers are represented, replete with characteristic armor, daily attire, or work clothes. It is impossible to look at any of Mora’s works and walk away. There is always one more picture to see, one more figure, one more note. You cannot see it all. But Mora sees the little things, knows the history, and draws it all. He was a reflection of his times, and he teaches us the importance of knowing our subjects, of being present, and always, always, of paying attention to the details.
Another carte, The Spanish Main, shows a line of passengers, complete with baggage-handlers and white-suited travelers mopping their brows in the Caribbean heat. This carte/poster, commissioned by the Grace Cruise Line, dates to 1933. It was accompanied by a book: Mora’s version of a ship’s log for the passenger to fill out on his/her trip-- but it is so much more than a publicity handout. There are pirate stories, a story of how the Panama Canal was begun, information about the ports of call, and innumerable facts (and amusing fictions) about their route, all cleverly illustrated by the author. The cruise company was so enamored of Mora’s book that they bought the entire printing for distribution to their patrons. The cruise traversed the Caribbean, sailed through the Panama Canal, and continued up the west coast of California. Along the way, Mora treats us to the true history of the Panama Canal, the transition from sailing ships to ocean liners (blessed by Neptune), inset maps of Guatemala, El Salvador, and Cartagena (including landmarks, natives and historical events attached to each.) The border holds illustrations of figures in Mexican and South American history, of crops, natural resources, transportation, pirates and explorers. In itself, it is a short (but comprehensive) course in the topography and history of the Spanish Main, and, in the words of its creator, was “rendered in the manner humorous, that its perusal may be accomplished rather with the smile of levity than the frown of research.” Mora shows us that humor has a place in education.
This whimsicality is ever-present in Mora’s work, as is his own life experience. One could not speak of Mora’s cartes without mentioning The Sweetheart of the Rodeo or The Evolution of the Cowboy. This carte, done as a commission for the California Rodeo Salinas was so popular that it was used as the cover art for the Byrds’ album, Sweetheart of the Rodeo, and was also used by Levi Strauss in their advertising campaigns. It is easily one of the most recognized, and most reproduced of Mora’s works. The carte recalls his years as a cowboy and his first-hand knowledge of their equipment and activities. Saddles, cowboy attire, and rodeo events are depicted –as well as a rendition of a rodeo ring, replete with stretcher bearers for the inevitable injured participants. The cowboys demonstrate their skills on horseback, and the tools of their trade are shown in detail. Not surprisingly, it is clear that Mora has been there. He has ridden those horses, used those tools. He has heard the conversations, and knows whereof he speaks. Mora is authentic and shows us the value of that authenticity.
Among his other cartes were commissions for national parks. In Yosemite, the famous Ahwahnee Hotel appears alongside happy, camera-toting vacationers camping, cooking, hiking, trail-riding and gawking at the sights. Bridal Veil Falls comes complete with a caricature of a bride, and Sentinel Rock has a uniformed sentinel atop. The sheer grandeur of Yosemite is conveyed simply by Mora’s border vignette of visitors’ ‘first view’ of the park: an entire family standing side by side, mouths agape.
The Grand Canyon carte receives equivalent treatment, with special attention paid to native Americans and the Hopi story of the Creation. The Union Pacific Grand Canyon Lodge, the Phantom Ranch, the Painted Desert, and the Canyon Guides each get their mentions and illustrations, usually with some humorous commentary on the side. As with all travel ads, the National Parks maps are essentially pictorial guidebooks, including vital information about transportation, lodging and activities for the visitor.
While his cartography alone would set Mora apart, and actually brought him into the public eye, he is also known for his sculpture, particularly the cenotaph of Father Junipero Serra in Mission San Carlos Borromeo del Rio Carmelo in Carmel, California. Mora considered this to be the supreme artistic achievement of his career. There are also a number of commercial sculptural works, both by Mora himself, and by him and his father working together. The State Chamber of Commerce Building, the Don Lee Cadillac building, a bas-relief for the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, the Native Sons of the Golden West building are all buildings that bore the Mora signature. While owners have changed, the sculptures remain. Mora has staying power.
To support his family, Jo Mora never refused a commission that he felt he could deliver. These commissions produced additional examples of Mora’s art. The Del Monte Hotel utilized his talents in a campaign advertising their establishment in Vanity Fair, Town & Country, and Fortune magazines, promoting travel to the Monterey Peninsula. Foremost among his architectural commissions was the Monterey County Courthouse in Salinas, built by the Works Progress Association (WPA) in 1937, and designed by Robert A. Stanton. Mora provided column caps and bas reliefs representing the various eras of Monterey County, ranging from that of the American Indian through the arrival of the Spanish, the Mission period, and ultimately, the development of modern recreation in the area. He provided as well over 60 busts of important figures in California history to adorn the spaces between the first and second floor windows.
Jo’s deep connection to his adopted home shows up in his work in Carmel. Not only did he do a carte of the town, featuring a detailed street map that included border vignettes of the town dog population, but his work appeared on milk bottles, advertising, and even a Christmas card from the Carmel Dairy, and a chapel at the Mission San Carlos featuring statues of St.Francis of Assisi, St. Anthony of Padua, and St.Charles Borromeo, in addition to the Serra cenotaph.
Jo Mora’s body of work would be amazing if it comprised only these items. However, in addition, he painted murals. He wrote and illustrated children’s books. He sketched. He did watercolors. He wrote two books—Traildust and Saddle Leather and The Californios—the first of which is considered to be one of the definitive works on cowboys and cowboy life-- and was named as a Book-of-the-Month Club selection. The Californios documents the era of the vaqueros, the first Spanish (soon to become American) cowboys. Written in colloquial style and comprehensively illustrated throughout, it provides the reader with an eminently readable account of vaquero life.
To meet Jo Mora, however, one needs to do more than read about his accomplishments or wonder at his versatility. To meet Jo Mora is to engage with his art: his cartes, his books, his sculptures, his architectural works. To do this is to encounter and understand his love for the West and his reverence for that way of life—and his lifelong dedication to sharing that love with his fellow Americans.
