‘Swiss Cheese Man’ draws to the delight of children
If you’ve been around Holmes County long enough, you’ve probably run into Philip Sarlo, right, at various events where he is inevitably set up with a crowd of kids around him. The speed drawer tirelessly draws names in firm, blocky letters to the delight of children of all ages.
Philip Sarlo — “The Swiss Cheese Man” — is drawing holes through the competition. Literally.
Sarlo never met a stranger, and upon meeting for an interview at a local breakfast place, he had drawn the given names of two young Japanese girls visiting the area with their family — all this before a mic could be turned on. Such is the day-to-day life of someone who lives by a strong belief that God provides and is present daily.
Sarlo is a speed drawer, creating big letters that look like they’ve been cut from a block of Swiss cheese. That’s right, Swiss cheese. How does one start drawing letters that look like cheese?
One day in 1968, he began doodling holly leaves and berries while taking notes in his 10th-grade class. He turned those leaves into letters, and soon his classmates wanted their names drawn as well. Christmas came and went, and he pitched the notebook as it had been completely filled up. His mom fished it out of the trash and asked why he wasn’t drawing those weird letters anymore. He said they looked too much like Christmas letters, but she suggested he change what they looked like by removing the pointy parts. A small child saw the resulting letters and exclaimed, “Cheese!” And the Swiss cheese letters were born.
“When I was 17, I ran away from home and went from Michigan to Miami Beach,” Sarlo said. “I was sitting near the beach, and a little lady came up to me and told me, ‘Philip, you’re going to call your mother.’”
During this dark time when he was running away from what he had known, he ended up on a chartered yacht with two famous movie stars, one of them actor George C. Scott (fresh off filming the movie “Patton”). He drew Scott’s name in Swiss cheese letters on a piece of cardboard torn from a laundry detergent box, and it was promptly sent back to be redone because he had left his middle initial out. He has a short story written about this period called “Lost at Sea.”
After finding his way through the darkness, he found God again, and soon after, he met his wife of many years. He continued drawing the letters on restaurant placemats and nearly anywhere he could get his hands on. They connected with someone from Holmes County while living in Zephyrhills, Florida and began to make trips here to visit. They made many friends here.
But in 2019 Sarlo almost lost his life in a near-fatal car accident. His body was filled with metal, and though still in pain, he and his family moved to Walnut Creek. Along this very painful path, he found the will to get up again, once again pushing the darkness and pain away, and he began to do what he was meant to do. Along with drawing he has played banjo in various groups in the area and does comedy skits. And he loves to tell stories. Even with the constant pain that remains from his accident, he continues to do what he loves.
If you’ve been around Holmes County long enough, you’ve probably run into Sarlo at various events where he is inevitably set up with a crowd of kids around him. He tirelessly draws names in the firm, blocky letters, needing a new pen every several hours. He even had a young Amish boy want to learn how to draw the letters, in case Sarlo passed away before teaching someone else the method.
“I tell the Amish kids when I draw their names that I’ll sign it, making it worth a whole lot less,” Sarlo said.
He has drawn at local events, tent revivals, church fellowship halls, schools and anywhere he is called to come pass on laughter and tidbits of wisdom in the pamphlets and book on his life he has nearly completed.
“I was invited to Lancaster to a two-day event several years ago and drew 200 kids’ names in 88-degree weather,” he said. “It was about 2 p.m., and something happened that had never happened before — I ran out of ink and pens.
“I looked up, and there was a tall Amish boy that had 20 pens tucked into his shirt. He must have gone around to the vendors and collected pens. He handed me one, and it didn’t work, then another one, and I shook my head no — I didn’t like that one — then a third one. Finally, the fourth pen was wonderful. Then he disappeared and two hours goes by, and my ink is gone again, and I lift my head up, and his hand was already there handing me a new pen. Was he a pen angel? Was he real?
“I’ve told this story a thousand times, but here is the end version. I went back to Lancaster this year, and I’m telling this story. I was almost done with the story, and a lady raised her hand and said, ‘I’m his mom.’”
Sarlo weaves many different stories together. While he speaks, his hand is ever moving across the sheath of paper he keeps tucked in his clipboard. Names and letters are formed in the letter style he created so many years ago, tucked inside an envelope to give to the person he’s drawing for.
He calls the snippets of stories and adages “Phil-osophies,” which is fitting as it uses his name and combines it with what he does and how he lives. His mother once told him that whatever he does in life must have a purpose, and that’s one of the reasons he draws. He is compelled to share of himself and the darkness he went through, and possibly help make someone else’s life a little bit brighter.
Sarlo is available to draw at nearly any event or gathering he’s called to. His wife Diane Sarlo has a book she published called “The Flying Nanny Chronicles.” He is finishing a book on his own life and working on a children’s book. Sarlo can be reached at signsbytiger@gmail.com or 813-312-8446.