Hand-Drawn History: How Don Smith’s Artwork Helped Shape the Co-op by Bev Faxon
Sorting through a box of Co-op memorabilia, I uncovered treasure: a stack of drawings with the distinctive signature of “DAS.” For years, starting in the 1980s, Don Smith created graphics, cartoons, and logos that were the artistic face of the Co-op. Don designed the iconic Co-op logo when the store moved from Pine Street to First Street in 1985. The logo was hand-drawn, of course: valley, trees, river, the “Skagit Valley Food Co-op” script that predates a menu of computer fonts. His work graces the store awnings, and he also did the original 1988 Deli Next Store logo, as well as the logo on our red brick exterior, declaring the three story, block-long structure to be the Co-op Building. That colorful mural of vegetables above the produce case? Don. Looking through Don’s drawings, a mix of beautiful pen and ink work and funny cartoons, brought back years of artwork he supplied for The Natural Enquirer. As editor, all I would have to say was, “It’s time for the Earth Day tree giveaway, can you bring us something?”, and Don would. A classic illustration of Don’s “begrudge-no-detail style” shows two people buried behind their newspapers, over a breakfast table set with everything from a honey pot to salt and pepper shakers, their beverages of choice before them; one humming “I love coffee”, the other “I love tea” in thought bubbles floating overhead. Their newspapers are replete with columns and scribbles of writing, even inked photos. The wallpaper is a complex stripe and dot pattern design, the tablecloth painstakingly checked. The cartoon takes up an entire 11 by 14 inch page. At first glance it’s flawless, until I note a careful patch smaller than a postage stamp—some error of a hand curled around a coffee cup, carefully redrawn and covered. Somehow this patch just makes the picture more perfect, a seamless repair I’d never even noticed. In December 1992, the Enquirer ran two articles—one was “Confessions of a Chocoholic (and Some Actual, True Facts about Chocolate)”. The other headline read “Why on Earth Would Anyone Buy... Carob?” An aside: carob enjoyed popularity in the 70s, 80s, and early 90s, when it was billed as a healthy, delicious chocolate substitute, which turned out to be a disservice to both products. Eventually, it was largely acknowledged by anyone not trying to get their kids to eat it as not in the least delicious. I note a New Yorker article titled “How Carob Traumatized a Generation,” and I’m afraid my son might have written it. I asked Don to illustrate these two side by side articles, and he came up with one of my favorite Don interpretations: A carob Easter bunny and a milk chocolate Santa, both wriggled free of their foil wrappers, wrestling each other to see who would be the victor. It was light and silly and perfect.
When I look back at the original graphics I have from Don, I also love the frequent penciled marginalia with some version of, “I’m sorry I was so late, and I hope it didn’t foul up your schedule” or “The rest will be here in the morning.” Don himself smiles over this, saying if he got something done before midnight of the deadline day, he figured it was still on time. Yet, there is additional context here. Without email, without digital graphic tools, without scanners, the only way to deliver these carefully hand-drawn pictures was to get in a car and drive them to the Co-op, handing them over in a stiff protective portfolio. For many years, that was how we defined “sharing files”—you give me the work, and then we sit down for some coffee. Last fall, I met with Don at his home up valley, just a few miles from Rockport State Park, where he worked as a senior park aide from 2015 until his retirement for health reasons last spring. We spread out the old Co-op artwork on a picnic table, and Don was off and running with stories—about particular drawings, about his early days as an artist, about his love of both art and the Skagit Valley. Don is a lover of tangents, and to sit and talk with him is to get drawn into stories as delightfully detailed as his art. He reminded me that one of the first things he ever did at the Co-op was painting the holiday windows, always the day after Thanksgiving, before he eventually handed that task over to fellow artist and Co-op employee Cathy Schoenberg. He used a style that he later employed to good advantage in Europe when he was backpacking and low on money. Don says, “My cousin introduced me to shopkeepers, and I offered to paint their windows. And their response was ‘Why would I do that? I want people to look in and see my wares.’” Don demonstrated how his paintings created little snow-frosted windows and doorways where you could peek through to see the jewelry or cookies or toys for sale inside. His payment from at least one store was a shopping cart filled to the top with whatever he needed. Says Don, “I had no warm clothing, so I filled it with moon boots and sweaters.” When I asked Don where he grew up, he replied, joking, but also a little serious, “I don’t think I ever did grow up.” It turns out, Don was born in Hollywood, and this birthplace, known for its stories and images, somehow fits just right. When he was four or five, his dad, also a graphic artist, got a job in the art department at Boeing, and the family moved to the Seattle area. Don got an art degree from Western Washington University, as well as a teaching certificate. He wanted to be both an art teacher and a gymnastics coach, and eventually he served as an assistant coach for the Mount Vernon girls’ gymnastic team. While still in school, he took a job with the fire crew at the Baker River Ranger Station, working as a summer firefighter. He loved working up in the Cascades, and put himself through school without his parents “having to spend a nickel.” As a graduation gift, his parents paid the fee for him to do a gymnastics workshop in Hawaii. But Don preferred to return to his fire crew in the Skagit, see his friends, and fight fires. So, he asked his parents for a point and shoot camera to replace the gym fee.
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Says Todd Wood, General Manager during those years, “The work Don did for the newspaper—that human touch, and that Gary Larson-esque fun twist—you have to think that they were a reflection of Don’s personality. I’d take things to him to get worked on, and then watch him—how fast he was. Years later, watching him on a computer, he was still so fast. It was amazing.” Every spring, Don illustrated the issue featuring board elections, and somehow repeatedly put a fresh spin on the topic. One of my favorites, from 1986, shows Don’s trademark detail: a long table, with 14 board members in attendance—all in front of open briefcases (of course not a laptop or iPad in site, just pencils and paper). Both men and women are wearing ties and suits, including the fellow in the foreground, who also has a beard, a ponytail, a broad smile, and a big carrot held between his fingers as though it is a cigar. Don’s holiday illustrations capture candlelight and coziness. Once I asked for a set of elves, and Don sent ten, in a range of poses. They were beautifully designed to cozy up to a bit of text, snooze on top of a headline, or point excitedly to a featured product. I used them shamelessly for years, highlighting every December issue.
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SKAGIT VALLEY FOOD CO-OP • THE NATURAL ENQUIRER • JANUARY – MARCH 2024
Don reminiscing over years of his Co-op illustrations.
