








|
|
|
|
|
A CARTOON MENAGERIE, 1923-1933
by Katherine and Richard Greene
|
|
Walt with his Academy Award for the creation of Mickey Mouse, 1932
|
When Walt arrived
in California in 1923, he didn't even have enough clothing to fill a shabby
suitcase. Ten years later he was the world-famous father of Mickey Mouse
and the Silly Symphonies. The story of this incredible decade is replete
with enormous disappointments for Walt along with great successes. On
two occasions, men he trusted with his career and fortunes turned on him
in a totally unanticipated fashion. He drove himself with such unrelenting
fervor that toward the end of this period he suffered through an experience
he was later to call "a hell of a breakdown." Meanwhile, in 1925, Walt
married a young woman named Lillian Bounds. Their romance began when she
came to work for him in his fledgling efforts at animation, and their partnership
was to last the rest of his life. Lilly accepted Walt's dedication to
his work, understood his drive toward perfection, and (though she sometimes
fretted over his willingness to risk everything on the next gamble) had
absolute faith in his genius. During this time, too, the lifelong collaboration
with his brother Roy grew and matured into one that would combine brotherly
love with an interdependence that led both to heights that may have been
unachievable alone.
|
|
Within 10 years after
his arrival in Hollywood in 1923, Walt Disney was famous around the world
as the creator of Mickey Mouse and Silly Symphonies like "Three Little
Pigs." He played polo at the fancy Riviera Club with celebrities like Spencer
Tracy and Will Rogers. He had pioneered color and sound cartoons and
was beginning to think about yet another revolutionary step with the
first feature-length cartoon, "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs." What a
difference a decade makes. Walt boarded the train for California
in 1923 with only a pair of pants, some underwear, a checkered coat, a few shirts,
and a little cash to his name. In a move that seems daft -- but wouldn't surprise
anyone who knew Walt well -- he had purchased a first-class ticket for
the journey. "I was in my pants and coat that didn't match," he
recalled, "but I was riding first class."
|
|
Unfortunately, the trip itself was somewhat frustrating. As Walt later told the story, he'd strike up conversations with other passengers, who'd react with less than awe to the news that he intended to make animated cartoons. "It was like sayin' I sweep up the latrines or something," he said. Fortunately for Walt, his Uncle Robert had preceded him in moving out west, so he had someplace to live. Robert was a large, outgoing man who had lost his first wife, Walt's beloved Aunt Margaret, relatively early in life. He later married a woman named Charlotte, and the two of them had a son, Robert Junior. Walt arranged to pay him $5 a week for room and board while he sought his fortune (though there's every reason to suspect that Uncle Robert frequently didn't get his rent). Walt's relationship with his Uncle wasn't always smooth -- Robert had a habit of reminding Walt how much he had helped him. But on balance, Walt's feelings toward his uncle were generally affectionate.
|
|
Upon first arriving, Walt decided that perhaps he'd give up the animation business and make his way in the film industry. "I was discouraged with animation. . . . "Aesop's Fables" were very successful. "Felix the Cat" was going then. And I just said it was too late. I should have been in the business six years before. . . . I wanted to get into the motion picture business. I wanted to be a director. That was my ambition. My goal was to be a director." This ambitious notion was soon squashed. "I went from one studio to another and I went to the personnel department and everything." The only job Walt actually landed in Hollywood was as a movie extra, riding a horse in a big cavalry charge. It rained the day Walt's scene was to be shot, and Walt was replaced when they rescheduled. "That was the end of my career as an actor," he said. Back to animation -- the only skill Walt really
had. He borrowed Uncle Robert's garage and set up shop, creating samples.
Soon enough he had a deal to provide cartoons for M. J. Winkler, who had expressed interest in his incomplete "Alice's Wonderland" cartoon, begun in Kansas City.
|
|
Never a man to delude himself about his strengths and weaknesses, Walt knew that he needed help with the money side of the business. So he convinced Roy to sign himself out of the hospital, where he had been recovering from tuberculosis, and join him. In 1923, they started the Disney Brothers Studio with $200 of Roy's money, $500 borrowed from their Uncle Robert, and $2,500 that Flora and Elias raised by mortgaging their house in Portland. Walt, of course, brought just his own skills to the venture. The two brothers moved in together and quickly discovered that there was such a thing as too much togetherness. After a long day at the studio, living in the same cramped quarters was just a little too much. Tensions grew.
|
|
Meanwhile, Roy was yearning for Edna Francis, the girl he had begun seeing back in Kansas City when he and Walt were living in the family house on Bellefontaine. Roy was a bank teller at the time and had been holding off on marrying Edna until he advanced a little in his career. After he became ill and was sent out west to recuperate, several years passed before they could be together again. As Roy recalled it, his period living with Walt ended with a dispute over dinner. "I used to go home early to take a nap in the afternoon," he said, "and then come back to the studio and work a couple of hours, then go on home to prepare something for dinner. Well, [Walt] just walked out on my meal one night, and I said, 'OK, to hell with you. If you don't like my cooking, let's quit this business.' So I wrote my girl in Kansas City and suggested
she come out and we get married, which she did. And she and I were married on April 12, 1925." The wedding, naturally, was at Uncle Robert's house.
|
|
Meanwhile, Walt
had a girlfriend of his own -- and just three months later, he too would
be married. That girl was Lillian Bounds. Her memories of meeting Walt
were more concerned with proximity and commerce than romance. "I had come
down from Idaho," said Lilly, "and this [girl I knew] came down and said,
'Would you like a job?' And I said, 'Doing what?' And she said, 'Well,
I'm working for these two fellows up here and they need somebody to fill
in the ink [in cartoons].' She would do the inking and I would do the painting.
Anyway, I could walk to work, and I was living with my sister, Hazel.
And I said yes." What did she think of her new boss? "Oh, I liked him.
But that was another thing. When [the girl] asked me if I'd go up there
she said, 'Well, you can come, if you won't vamp the boss.' And I had
no idea of vamping him. I never had such a thought in my mind. The guy
didn't even have a sweater to take me out anyplace or anything."
|
|
Walt and Lilly, photographed during Roy and Edna's wedding
|
|
Soon enough, Walt was interested in the quiet, pretty girl who was working for him. He drove her and another employee home at night -- and was always careful to drop the other girl off first. Lilly would tell stories about life in Idaho with nine sisters and brothers, and Walt was fascinated. He loved her tales of pioneering grandparents. But for some time, Walt turned down Lilly's suggestions that he meet her family. He was embarrassed by his old, worn-out clothes. It is testimony to the fact that Walt was really
interested in this girl that he worried about such a thing. When he and Roy finally saved up enough to buy new suits (Walt's, a gray-green number, came with two pairs of pants -- Roy's only one), he was ready to call on her. "How do you like my new suit?" he asked Lilly's sister Hazel and her husband. And so began the courtship. He immediately liked Lilly's family; they were a singing, laughing bunch, somewhat like the family of his childhood friend Walt Pfeiffer, and Walt basked in their warmth. They liked him in turn.
|
|
About this time Walt
bought a secondhand Moon automobile, and he'd take Lilly driving through
the orange groves and to dinner at a tearoom on Hollywood Boulevard. Their
first big date was to see the musical "No, No, Nanette." Hazel's daughter, Marjorie,
was about eight years old at the time. "I slept on the sofa in the living
room and Walt would come over and he and Aunt Lilly would be together and
talking and whatever they were doing, and I was moved into her bed in her
bedroom. Then, when he was ready to go, I made my bed down on the sofa. He
was the only one that ever got me in that bed that I didn't fall out of it.
He fixed it so and tucked it so that I never fell out of bed. Otherwise,
I would always wake up in the morning on the floor."
|
|
Walt and Lilly spent
a fair amount of time at Hazel's house. "My mother was an excellent cook,"
said Marjorie. "They never could decide whether he was there because of Aunt
Lilly or because of my mother's cooking. But I guess it was Aunt Lilly." Meanwhile,
back at the office, Walt and Roy repeatedly asked Lilly if she'd please
not cash her $15 paycheck. "I happily did so," she said. "I'd keep them. I
didn't need them. I'd put them away and then they would use that little bit
of money to pay their expenses." Years later, Lilly reported that "he said
he married me because he got so far in debt to me." Walt proposed shortly
after Roy announced his plans to marry Edna. In home movies of Roy's wedding,
one is struck by Walt and Lilly; they are not the center of attention here,
and, unconcerned about prying eyes or cameras, are the model of a young couple
in love.
|
|
They went to Lewiston,
Idaho, to get married at her brother's house. He was the town's fire chief
and had a parlor large enough for the wedding. Lilly, who giggled throughout,
wore a lavender dress. Walt presented her with a little white-gold ring with
a half-dozen tiny diamonds in it. After the wedding, they honeymooned at Mount
Rainier, where from the look of photos that have been preserved of the
occasion they were a rather elegant couple. Back in Los Angeles, however,
their life was far from elegant. Their first home was a small, one-room apartment
with a view of an alley. But they were happy. Though Walt was not known to
outsiders as a physically demonstrative man, family members recalled that
he never entered his home without hugging and kissing Lilly hello. Still,
Lilly had to learn that a marriage to Walt Disney meant a marriage to
the studio as well. In the evening, the newly married couple might go out
for fun with Roy and Edna or by themselves. But eventually Walt would always
indicate that he had to return to the office, and off he and Lilly would traipse.
While Walt worked, Lilly slept on the couch. When it was time to go home,
perhaps one or two in the morning, Walt would awaken her, lying about the
time.
|
|
The studio was churning
out Alice cartoons at an incredible clip. Walt's relationship with his distributor,
Charlie Mintz, was fraught with tension, and his own perfectionist tendencies
were starting to evidence themselves. He pushed his employees relentlessly.
Staffers were required to re-animate sequences, once, twice, five times, until
they were acceptable to Walt. Of course, Walt's drive for the best applied
to himself more than anyone else. As a result, he fired himself as an artist
in order to concentrate on his greater skills as a story man and director.
"I was never happy with anything I ever did as an artist," he later said.
|
|
Walt and Roy's staff assemble in front of the Disney Brothers Studio at 4649 Kingswell
|
|
Meanwhile, Walt and Roy
decided to change the name of the business from Disney Brothers to Walt Disney
Productions. After all, went the logic, that way the public would come to
feel that there was a human being behind the product being turned out by the
studio, and this would be a powerful marketing tool. One of their employees,
Hugh Harman, recalled some harsh conversations between Walt and Roy when this
idea was first addressed. But Disney archivist Dave Smith says that Roy claimed
the idea for the name change as his own! In fact, given Roy's unassuming nature
-- and his dedication to his brother and the business -- it does seem consistent
that he would have been willing to forgo glory for the good of the company.
As the studio did better, Walt and Lilly moved to a larger apartment, and
then, in the fall of 1927, Walt and Roy bought identical prefabricated houses
on adjoining lots.
|
|
At about this time, Walt
brought the first of a series of dogs into the Disney household. It wasn't
easy -- at first. Walt: "My wife would have nothing to do with dogs. She said,
'They get hair on everything. They're dirty. And there's dog odors.' So I
got a book that had to do with dogs and I kept reading about different dogs.
And finally I had a story on the chow. The chow did not . . . shed hair. The
chow does not have fleas. The chow has very little dog odor. And . . . she
said, Well, if I had to have a dog that's the kind of dog I would want. That's
all I wanted. The next day I went out and bought a chow and kept it under
wraps until Christmas. I got a big hat box, I got a big ribbon on it. When
the time came I went over, put the little puppy in the hat box, and when they
were all busy I put it over by the tree. And my niece was tipped off, so my
wife didn't see me bring it in. So then, my niece went over and got this and
she said, 'Oh, who is this for?' It said, 'To Lilly from Santa Claus.' So
she brought this big hat box over and put it in front of my wife. And my wife
said, 'Oh Walt, you didn't . . . ' and from that time on, that was her baby.
I've never seen anybody so crazy over an animal."
|
|
Walt and Lilly with their dog, Sunnee, in the early 1930s
|
|
With the larger quarters
the new house afforded, there began something of a Disney tradition that was
to last for some time: Lilly's relatives lived with them. At first, it was
her mother. Family members recalled him treating his mother-in-law "like
a queen." On Sundays he would take Lilly, her mother, and her niece Marjorie
out for rides in the car and stop at an ice cream parlor on the way home.
The ritual was set. According to Marjorie, "He and I would go in the ice cream
parlor and bring out an ice cream cone for Grandma, one for me, one for Aunt
Lilly, one for their dog, one for himself. And he would stand by the curb
and feed Sunnee her ice cream cone." When Lilly's sister Hazel got divorced,
she and daughter Marjorie moved in and stayed for about five years. When
they moved out, Lilly's sister Grace took up residence.
|
|
Walt practiced being
a father with Marjorie. She remembers her uncle as a forgiving, loving, gentle
man. One time, after she had lived in Walt's house for several years, Marjorie
grew annoyed at Walt -- in typical adolescent fashion. "I said, 'Well, you're
a self-made man and you worship your maker!'" she recalls. "I don't know where
I'd heard this . . . But I'd read it someplace and it seemed appropriate
at the time. I turned and went out of the room, and the worst thing was that
by the time I got to the bottom of those stairs I heard him laughing. And
that just killed me. That just undid the whole thing. I thought I'd stood
up on my own and then he was laughing at me. The next weekend, we also had
an altercation of some kind and he really lit into me. . . . And the following
week up at school, I got a call at study hall to come up to the office. And
I went up. Sister Francis [told me my uncle was there to take me to Pasadena].
So I went out and he said he had some film to deliver, which was made up.
And we went down and went to a particular ice cream parlor down there that
was very popular at that time, and we had hot fudge sundaes. Nothing was said
about my being an obnoxious brat or anything like that. . . . He just drove
me back up to school, and I kissed him and went in, riding on high. I knew
he'd forgiven me. And he knew I'd forgiven him. That was it. He didn't say
'I'm sorry' for anything. Nothing. He just came by and took me out for an
ice cream."
|
|
In early 1928, Walt
suffered the now-famous betrayal of Charlie Mintz and his staff, in which
Mintz stole away Walt's then-popular cartoon character Oswald the Lucky Rabbit,
as well as most of Walt's employees. It's hard to know which caused Walt
greater pain -- the loss of the character, upon which his studio's success
rested, or the loss of his staff, whom he regarded as friends, and many of
whom he had brought with him from the early days in Kansas City. More likely
it was the latter. Repeatedly in his life, Walt was disappointed by people
who didn't see his vision clearly -- and who were willing to leave him. It's
unfair to these employees to regard them as renegades or turncoats. For one
thing, though Walt was their boss, he was still a very young and relatively
unproven man. His artists knew they could draw better than he could and may
not have even understood the dramatic nature of his contributions to their
work. At heart, they were just people who wanted to make a better living for
their families, wherever it was offered. But Walt couldn't understand this
outlook. To him, the work was everything; and he knew that his studio was
going to do the best work anyplace. Walt bounced back (sort of like the indestructible
characters in his cartoons) with Mickey Mouse. Luckily, Ub Iwerks had stayed
loyal to Walt when the rest of his staff left him for Mintz. With Ub's help,
he quickly had a new line of cartoons to sell. When distributors weren't interested
in his new character, Walt took a giant leap of faith and introduced sound
into his cartoons.
|
|
Here again he demonstrated
an ability to get involved with unsavory characters. After a depressing quest
in New York City for someone who could help him add sound to his cartoons,
he discovered a "big, lovable, friendly Irishman" named Pat Powers. Powers
was the kind of guy who could charm the birds out of the trees. He certainly
had Walt in the palm of his hand quickly enough. "He is personally taking
care of me," Walt wrote home. Powers took care of Walt -- but good. Despite
Roy's concerns that Powers might not be honest, Walt gave him distribution
rights for Mickey Mouse. As Roy grew increasingly convinced that Powers
wasn't paying them properly, Walt pooh-poohed his big brother's concerns as
unnecessary negativism. His own natural optimism -- buoyed by Mickey's instant
success -- obscured all signs of trouble. Walt and Roy even saw clear to
giving Ub a 20% share in the studio and credit on the cartoons; rewards for
his loyalty. The staff grew. The Silly Symphonies were introduced.
|
|
Walt and Ub Iwerks: a formidable team in the early days of Mickey Mouse
|
|
Finally, the bubble
burst when Powers tried to blackmail Walt into coming to work for him.
The leverage? Powers had hired away Ub Iwerks, convinced that he was the
key to Disney's success. Ub likely left out of frustration that though
he was a 20% owner, he was still clearly working for the domineering and
short-tempered Walt. Though shocked, Walt wouldn't yield. He just moved
on without Ub. And although Ub must be acknowledged as an integral force
in shaping the look and style of the early Mickey Mouse cartoons, the
reality is that Walt's business didn't seem to suffer without him. One
change: He would never again give an employee the kind of credit he had
given Iwerks. Ub, by contrast, spent the next decade creating forgettable
cartoons like Flip the Frog, and then returned to the Disney Studio. As
Leonard Maltin writes in "Of Mice and Magic," "The 10 years away from Disney
were the least rewarding or productive he spent in the motion picture
field. This in no way demeans Iwerks or his talent. It merely underscores
the fact that making cartoons was not his goal, but rather a means to
an end for him. His ambition -- and great love -- was to conquer technical
challenges."
|
|
As Walt entered his
30s, his fame was growing. With Powers out of the picture, the studio
was financially successful for the first time. By the beginning of 1931,
Walt had 75 employees -- and the number was growing quickly. But Walt
was miserable. He was sleeping less and less and working harder and harder.
Nights he would work in the studio, lighting one cigarette after the other.
His artists frequently disappointed him. And even though money was pouring
in, Walt was almost entirely incapable of estimating costs -- his cartoons
were perpetually over budget. The studio's new distributor, Columbia Pictures,
might have been sending checks on a regular basis, but its president,
Harry Cohn, was not an easy man to work with. According to film director
Frank Capra, Cohn "badgered and bulldozed" Walt. In 1931, newspapers
reported that Walt went into the Good Samaritan Hospital for an operation
on his throat, "caused by strain to the larynx muscles overworked by Disney
in making the various squeaks and squeals used for the talkie cartoons."
This is a somewhat mysterious episode, in that he never seems to have
made reference to that hospital stay. His irritability began to grow
alarming. "I got to a point that I couldn't talk on the telephone. I'd
begin to cry. . . ."
|
|
In off moments,
he dwelled on other, simpler times. He began animated correspondences
with friends and acquaintances from Kansas City and the Red Cross Ambulance
Corps. Meanwhile, he had a deep yearning for children -- accentuated when
Roy had a son, Roy Edward Disney, in January of 1930. During this time, Lilly suffered two miscarriages. In those days, of course, people didn't talk
about miscarriages in the way that they do today. Society didn't understand
the kind of deeply felt grief that often attends the loss of a pregnancy.
Even Walt was hesitant to acknowledge his feelings. He wrote a cousin
in 1931, "I am married and so far all I can boast of is a cute little
wife and a dandy chow dog." While he waited for an heir (and even after
he had two daughters), nephews, nieces, and children of friends and employees
were recipients of a steady supply of toys and games. Marjorie recalled,
"Aunt Lilly made me clothes for my dolls, and Uncle Walt gave me
skates and scooters and all the exciting things." Herbert's daughter Dorothy
remembered that Walt gave her "my first prom dress." A nephew of Lilly's,
Bill Papineau, even went to college courtesy of his uncle and aunt. But
though Walt made children around him happy, he was descending deeper and
deeper into an unfamiliar state of anxiety. In later years, Walt was to
say that "in 1931 I had a hell of a breakdown, I went all to pieces."
His doctor prescribed a vacation and more exercise.
|
|
Walt and Lilly went
off on a trip they called their "gypsy jaunt." Walt booked passage on
a boat to Cuba. He wanted to take a steamer down the Mississippi and pick
up the boat in New Orleans, but that didn't work out. They had some time
to kill, "so we got on a train and went to Washington, D.C. I stayed there
about three days. Walked all around. Saw all the monuments. I was thrilled
to death to see all these things. I sat in the parks and fed the pigeons."
Then they visited Florida and Cuba and cruised all 5,000 miles back from
Havana to Los Angeles. "We had the time of our life," Walt said. "We met
a lot of wonderful people going through the canal. It was warm and relaxed."
Walt jumped into an exercise program with his usual vigor. He started
with wrestling, but that didn't last long. He didn't want to "stay for
10 minutes in somebody's crotch." He boxed for a while, then played golf,
rising before dawn so he could get to the studio at opening. Any golfer,
knowing Walt's personality, could predict that this would not be his game.
He'd get as furious as Donald Duck when his ball rolled past the cup.
It was hardly the relaxing sport he was looking for.
|
|
Walt in action during a polo game, sometime in the mid-1930s
|
|
At last he came to polo.
It was a natural for Walt, who would have enjoyed hanging around the horses
even if there was no sport attached. From the looks of a variety of photos, he was certainly
impressive all rigged up on horseback for a game. According to Bill
Cottrell, a longtime staffer (and eventually his brother-in-law, when Cottrell
married Lilly's sister Hazel), Walt was a fair amateur. Staffers felt obligated
to take up the sport as well. Animators Norm Ferguson, Les Clark, and Dick
Lundy joined up, as did the studio attorney, Gunther Lessing. Roy also played.
Never inclined to half-measures, Walt engaged Gil Proctor, a polo expert, to
teach his team about the sport. According to Bob Thomas' biography of Walt,
"Practice started at six in the morning and was completed in time for all
of the players to report to the studio by eight. Walt erected a polo cage
at the studio; on the lunch hour or during work breaks, the players could
sit on a wooden mount and practice hitting the wooden ball."
|
|
After a while, Walt
and Roy became members of the Riviera Club, one of the swankiest polo clubs
around. There Walt rode with some of the biggest names in Hollywood -- Spencer
Tracy, Will Rogers, and Darryl Zanuck. He and Lilly had always avoided the
Hollywood party scene; no matter how successful they got, he and Roy always
seemed more like solid midwesterners than Hollywood moguls. But in the world
of polo, Walt enjoyed his contacts with local luminaries. The diversion and the
exercise may have paid off -- or perhaps Walt's time in the doldrums had simply
run its course. In any case, he was back to his old plucky self in 1932. His
career was booming. Pluto and Goofy came on the scene. He and Roy got rid
of Harry Cohn and Columbia and moved to a happier relationship with United
Artists. Under the gifted guidance of Herman "Kay" Kamen, the studio started
licensing products, thus bringing in more cash. "Flowers and Trees," the first
Technicolor cartoon -- made despite heavy financial risks -- won an Academy
Award. "Three Little Pigs" was a smash hit. It was wonderful. It was exciting.
But none of it was more important to Walt than Lilly's pregnancy in mid-1933,
which appeared to be a healthy one.
|
|
|
|
|
|