ROMANTIC STORY of MICKEY MOUSE told by YVONNE GORDON

Waikato Times, Volume 118, Issue 19762, 18 December 1935, Page 22 (Supplement)

ROMANTIC STORY of MICKEY MOUSE told by YVONNE GORDON

A Five-year-old boy stood before the white wall of a farmhouse near Marceline, Missouri. By his feet was a large pot of tar which he had “borrowed” from a nearby road-mender. On the wall in front of the youngster were daubs of tar, shaped like people, houses and animals. He stepped back, brush clasped firmly in his small hand, to survey the effect of a large stroke of black to the tail of a “cat.” At that moment a horrified voice called “Walter!”

At the sound of his mother’s cry the boy dropped his brush, tripped over the tar-pot, and headed for the open fields and temporary escape. That boy was Walt Disney—the man who made Mickey Mouse.

Caricatures for the Barber.

Walter Disney and a gang of cronies used to congregate round the local barber’s shop, and the young artist would entertain hisc gang with pictures of the barber’s customers as they entered or left the shop. Every day would find Walt Disney on his knees, cleaning the pavement preparatory to executing the latest customer in chalks. Then came the never-to-be-forgotten day when Walt caricatured the barber himself just as that worthy came past. When the man grabbed Walt by the collar and marched him into the shop the rest of the gang ran for their lives. Walt had been caught! But Walt had been more than “caught,” he had been appreciated. The barber made him draw the same caricature on a piece of paper and exhibited it with great pride in the saloon!

The customers laughed at it so much that the barber had a flash of inspiration. He engaged the ten-year-old Disney to supply him with a drawing of his best customer every week. For this commission Walt received the princely sum of 25 cents.—or sometimes he would have a haircut free instead. And this was the first money ever earned by the cartoonist who was later to make a fortune—out of a mouse. Disney had just finished his tuition at the art schools in Kansas City and Chicago, when the Great War broke upon a startled world. He tried desperately to enlist in the fighting forces but was turned down at every attempt. He was too young. But Walt was determined, and be is a man who always gets what he sets out for. He lied to the commandant and entered the Red Cross service as 18. In reality he was 16. On November 12, 1918, Walt Disney sailed for France as an ambulance driver. When he reached the Front the war was over—he had lied for nothing! On his return to America his first job was with a Kansas City advertising company, drawing animated slides. For this he received the salary of 40 dollars a week. As yet, there was no pointer to the fame that was to come. It was Disney’s first acquaintance with this kind of work, and he liked it. Perhaps even then he had some idea at the back of his head that one day he would make* animated cartoons, although what would be their subjects he had no idea. That flash of genius came to him later when he was living in a small top room in Kansas City—with two mice. Outlined Idea to Niece. Walt. Disney had a young niece called Dorothy, to whom he used to write every week without fail. And it was to her that, he outlined the germ of his idea. Extracts from those letters make interesting reading, but, 1 cannot quote them at. length. Let, me, instead, take one page of a letter which is kept still as a souvenir of a great undertaking. "Dear Dorothy,” it read, “they have been doing 1 the most extraordinary tilings again,

those two little mice ... I am sure they have the mentality of a -well-trained dog or cat . . . they chase each other all over chairs and stools, and don’t mind me in the least . . . . they are so tame, and I feed them with cheese on the end of a knitting needle.

“Do you know, Dorothy, one day I think I’m going to draw those two mice and make a fortune out of them ’. . . they’re that funny! ...” But mice were not the first subject Disney tried in the form of animated film cartoons. Soon he was able to saveenough money from his advertising salary to be able to rent a room at five dollars a month. And while he worked for the advertising company by day, he worked at animated cartoon reels of his own conception at night. Then came the day when he hadcopjpleted a whole reel. He wrapped it lip very carefully, and with beating heart called on a Mr Newman, who was Kansas City’s biggest showman. With trembling fingers Walt undid the parcel, took out his first animated cartoon reel, and ran it through to the showman. Being politically minded, Disney had already captioned the film on a sub-title as “Newman’s Laugh-o-grams,” hoping against hope.

“And supposing I don’t take it?” queried the showman, “what about that sub-title?” “I’ll have to cut it off and make another,” said Walt, his heart doing nip-ups, “but you will take it, won’t you?” “Sure, I will,” laughed Newman. . It was a hit, and Disney was asked for more. So started his career as a film cartoonist.

Then came a spell of bad luck. Disney formed a company to produce animated cartoons. At the last minute his backers failed him, the company went smash, and Disney was left high and dry and very broke. “Why don’t you try your luck in Hollywood?” said his brothers. So Roy and'Walt Disney borrowed and scraped the fare and set out to fire Hollywood. From a back-room in a real-estate office emerged the next essay in film-cartoons. This was a series of pictures called “Alice Comedies.” Birth of Silly Symphonies. L Even in those days, Disney realised the material and potentialities of fairy stories through the medium of animated drawings. It was the birth of his Silly Symphonies. The comedies were made around a child actress, Virginia Davis, who played in each picture, and they were more or less based on the “Alice in Wonderland” theme. But the success of these series was hardly staggering. Finance failed to roll in with the gust of an autumn gale. The Disney brothers ate infrequently and sparingly. . , Then came Walt’s first all-pen-and-ink cartoon, “Oswald, the Lucky Rabbit.” It was aptly named, for it turned the tide of the Disngy fortunes. Then came the sudden flash of remembrance. • “We’ll make a series of films on those!’ cried Disney at two o’clock one morning. “Go to sleep, for the love of Pete,” mut- . tered Roy from beneath the clothes, “A film of what, anyway?” . . . . that’s it, Mortimer the Mouse can’t you see it?” “No, I can’t,” snapped Roy, “and I can t sleep either.” Later the cartoons took shape. Mortimer was too unwieldy, so they, changed it to Mickey. And as Michael Mans in Germany, Miguel Ratonocito in Spain, Michel Souris in Franco and Miki Kuchi in. .Japan, the mouse became internationally famous. To-day, Walt Disney is a wealthy man, (Continued in next column.)

and regarded as one of the most important figures in the film business. They also hail him as its greatest genius. “Three Little Pigs” Profit. Yet from his huge income, Walt draxvs a salary of a mere 200 dollars per week. Roy, who is /now his brother’s manager, takes 175 dollars as his weekly xvage. In 1932 Disney put £160,000 of his profits back into his business. This sum xvas used to extend his production department and to finance his equally famous Silly Symphony works. The cost of producing one Mickey Mouse film is, on an average 8,000 dollars, while a Silly Symphony works out at a conservative 20,000. Walt says his pictures take from a year to 18 months before they commence showing” any profit. At the end of 1935, for instance lie expects to have made 25,000 dollars net profit on his “Three Little Pigs.” Thus far has lie travelled—Walt Disney, who once xvould daub black tar on a wall, and leave bis creations at that!