John Callahan, Cartoonist of the Rude, Crude and True, Passes Away

I often saw John Callahan on his perambulations around Northwest Portland. Though, considering his quadriplegia, perhaps they weren't perambulations at all. Still, his tell-tale shock of orange hair and heavy-set jaw were a near-daily sight on the streets of 23rd Ave or on the 15 bus. Quiet spoken and focused, he guided his wheelchair carefully between crowds of people--who often as not recognized and greeted him, or quietly muttered "look, there's Callahan" as he made his whirring, mechanized passage. Indeed, it was difficult to reconcile the vision of this polite fellow with his cartoons, which have appeared in certain newspapers for the past twenty years.

Those cartoons--often acidic, harshly critical, and outrageously un-PC--landed Callahan in trouble over the years, but nevertheless evinced a wit and point of view that was as honest as it was dark. Callahan passed away this past Saturday, at the age of 59, from complications with bedsores and painkillers. Always true to his own sense of humor and unwilling to tone down or compromise, Callahan has left a narrative of cartoons that not only produce evil snickers in its audience, but the sort of death's head grins only the grimmest humor can produce.

For a wonderfully personal obituary--with excellent descriptions of Callahan's wickedest cartoons--head to the Washington Post, here.