Being funny makes money

TheStar, Saturday November 12, 1994, By S.B.Toh.

The son of a tailor from generations of tailors, Reggie Lee didn't last long in typing, language or architecture classes. He seemed destined to be either the blacksheep of the family or to carry on the tradition of thread and needles....

REGGIE'S JOB IS NO LARK
That cartoonist Reggie Lee's first name should have been inspired by a cartoon character years ago when the idea hadn't yet crossed his mind is perhaps a most fitting coincidence.

A fifth former then, Lee was the resident prankster of St Xavier's Institution in Penang, especially among the "older women" - the sixth formers.

His antics were unique in part because of his appearance. With his trademark slicked back hairstyle and ever present striped T-shirt, the young Lee apparently bore an uncanny resemblance to Reggie of the Archie comic strip.


For the trouble and the resemblance, the girls christened him Reggie. It wasn't exactly an unflattering comparison and the name has stuck since.
Reggie Lee.

Admittedly, the name does not necessarily prompt instant nor universal recognition. His is not a household name like Lat's.

Still, Reggie's name surely cannot escape many. Surely?

Gila-Gila readers of yore may remember Reggie Lee as the name behind the cheeky kung fu spoof Sap Sap Suey.

Some may recognize Reggie's caricatures in The Malay Mail. Yet others may vaguely recall a beer ad campaign that used his works in the not-so distant past.

At present, Reggie's caricatures, Good Morning Malaysia, appear twice weekly in a national daily. For this, he gets a respectable paycheck. But caricatures Reggie does only on the sideline.

"I make a living from advertising," he says.

"Cartoon is just a pastime. Satisfaction, I get from cartoons. You can do anything under the sun. You don't have to answer to clients."

The last statement, it would appear, resonates a discontentment that comes from deep within Reggie. It is a disdain he has to bear with; a situation that sticks in this throat.

Describing himself as "an artist caught in a commercial world," Reggie is at pains to make clear he isn't exactly wallowing in the advertising world where he has to jump to orders. The artist's angst, it seems, is alive.

Advertising pays good money, he admits. He is in it for the money, he concedes. But Reggie also likens it to "prostituting" oneself to others' whims and fancies.

"Maybe I'm too greedy . . . money, money, money. I have a lot of friends aboard who are real artists and they practice their art the way they want. Every time they come down, they hurl insults at me.

"I would love to do it too but I have to think of my children. Hopefully when they've finished their education, I can go to the kampungs and paint."

There was a time when such luxurious musings were the least of Reggie's bothers. It was a time when his parents worried he would end up a drug addict or a derelict of some other genus.

This son of a tailor from generations of tailors was the black sheep of his family. In studies where his four siblings excelled, Reggie floundered. And floundered.




"I did only a year of Form Six. I never was interested in studies. My parents enrolled me in a private school to learn typing - government jobs were highly regarded then - but every time I started to type, my fingers would cramp."

"Then they sent me to a language school. 'Maybe he can become a tour guide.' Didn't work out.

"Put me in architectural class. 'At least he loves art.' But I didn't like technical drawing and it didn't work out either.

"My parents began to seriously worry I wouldn't make it. I was mixing with my childhood friends, some of whom were quite notorious. Basically, we just lepak, smoked and did nothing. I wasted my life in Penang loafing for a year plus.

"My dad was hopeful at least one in this generation would be a tailor. Academically I was weak. I was the oddball of the family and I was the obvious choice," Reggie recalls.

But it was not to be the case. Reggie wasn't prepared to submit to such a fate.
At 19, he did commercial art in Singapore. Away from Penang and his gang, perchance he would do better. It was a three-year course but true-to-form Reggie didn't complete it.

"I guess three years was a bit too long. I was dying for some action," he shrugs.

Nevertheless, Reggie did do something positive there. He did a training stint with an advertising agency, saw some action and headed back home with some useful experience.

Reggie then started to work in ad agencies in his home state, doing everything from visualizing to writing and account servicing.

He was humbly salaried but like a true Penangite, Reggie resolved to stay put on his beloved island. "Penang people are kiam siap," grins the cartoonist. "They pay you RM300 and they think it's a lot of money."

Adversity, as Calvin's father is fond of saying, builds character. So it was with Reggie.

Committing himself to buying a house on his modest pay was burdensome but it proved to be the turning point for him as a cartoonist. (He contributed to magazines when hew was schooling for pocket money.)

"I needed the extra money and that was when I wrote to Gila-Gila and asked to be a contributor. I knew the magazine was in Malay and I wasn't any good at it. So it was a pretty bold move," Reggie remarks.

But it paid off. Soon Reggie was earning more from his part time work than his full time one. A good RM260 more. And it was the beginning of his reputation as a cartoonist.

Reggie did eventually leave the idyllic existence of Penang.

"Penang is a paradise. But there comes a time when you become stifled and that's how I came to this gold-mine," he says of his eventual migration to KL.

Leaning back on the sofa in his spacious home in USJ, a BMW and another car parked in the porch, Reggie has come a long way from the uncertainties of his youth.

"Cartoon is actually another style of illustration. It's still an art form. It's just you draw figures in different proportions. A lot of things can be said in just a few strokes," says the cartoonist, whose favourite medium is the brush.

"With cartoons, you can't lie. You must always tell the truth. It you can be really sarcastic or imply certain things from the way you draw.

"The beauty of cartoons is you can even get away with murder. Sometimes I do worry my cartoons aren't funny. The toughest person to please is yourself.

"In a way we cartoonists are a mirror to society," Reggie concludes.

A father of two, Reggie reckons he's a weekend dad, being the busy advertising man that he is.

During the course of the interview, daughter Cheryl hovered about curiously.

"Cheryl, go upstairs. Daddy is busy."
"Don't want."
This happened a number of times. At length, Reggie abandoned the struggle and gave a sheepish smile.

"My kids don't take my orders. I can't control them. I think it's the lifestyle. They seldom see their daddy at home."

"I tell my family I would take them out for the weekend and then I have to tell them: 'Daddy can't take you out. Daddy has to work." People control your life. I want to be able to control my own life."

Reggie sees the biggest possibility of doing this in his capacity as a cartoonist. He has already published three cartoon books in the past (all of which sold more than 10,000 copies) and is planning another one before the year ends.

Reggie also merchandises his caricatures through souvenirs like T-shirts, caps and the like which cab be found in big hotels.

"I'm working towards being a full-time cartoonist. I'd love to do it," he says ( a little wishfully perhaps).

"There's real good money in advertising… you get awards and there is satisfaction. But it's not everything. I think the industry actually pampers me. It becomes difficult to quit because you a lifestyle to sustain," comments the associate creative director.

"I came and I have found. I'm rethinking now. To me the pleasures of life is more important. I'm actually looking into the quality of life."