The Animated Man (2 page)

Hubler was a freelance writer who wrote many magazine pieces and was the as-told-to coauthor of Ronald Reagan's memoir
Where's the Rest of Me?
He was the first author commissioned by Walt Disney Productions and the Disney family to write a biography of Walt Disney, less than a year after Disney's death. In late 1967 and 1968 Hubler interviewed many Disney employees and members of Disney's family, some of whom were never interviewed otherwise. His book was never published. “Turned it in for corrections and/or defections in fact—and got a blank wall,” he told me in 1969. “No comment, no reasons, no nothing at all. . . . They paid the considerable contractual penalty and let it drop dead.”
²
Hubler retained drafts of his manuscript, complete and partial transcripts of dozens of interviews, and a wealth of other material, all of which he donated to Boston University and much of which I consulted in the course of writing my own book. Transcripts of a number of Hubler's interviews are also held at the Walt Disney Archives, and they have been quoted extensively in subsequent Disney-authorized books like Bob Thomas's biographies of Walt Disney and his brother Roy.

In all these interviews—my own, Martin's with Disney, Hubler's, and others with Disney's friends and employees—there are no gaping chasms of fact, few if any irreconcilable disagreements. (In my research, I have encountered
starkly different versions of events only for the filming of
Swiss Family Robinson
on the island of Tobago. Disney never visited the island during shooting, so those disagreements were of limited importance to this book.) Disney himself, from the time in the early 1930s when he began revisiting his personal history for interviewers and approving press releases about it, was remarkably consistent in what he said. When he smudged or passed over episodes in his life, it was usually for readily discernible reasons, like his continuing resentment of what he saw as a former employee's disloyalty.

The greatest obstacle to writing an accurate Disney biography is not deliberate falsehood but the lapses of earlier writers. No writer wants to repeat research that other people have already done well, but a great deal of what has been published about Walt Disney's life incorporates small, avoidable errors. As reflected in the endnotes, I have tried to avoid such errors, especially by relying on primary materials whenever possible. Errors are inevitable, though, and as they surface I will post corrections on my Web site,
www.michaelbarrier.com
.

Some primary materials are more accessible than others. As part of my research for
Hollywood Cartoons
, I saw almost all of the theatrical sound cartoons that Walt Disney produced, as well as almost all of the surviving silent cartoons and a great many of the sponsored films like those made for the military. Thanks especially to the Library of Congress's collection, I have since seen all the live-action features made during Disney's lifetime, as well as almost all the live-action shorts, along with dozens of the Disney television shows. (I have seen only a sampling of the
Mickey Mouse Club
, however; you have to draw the line someplace.)

Although I enjoyed years of access to the Disney Archives during my work on
Hollywood Cartoons
, the rules have tightened since then, and I did not do any on-site research at the archives for this book—a minor inconvenience, fortunately, considering the research I had already done and the other sources available. Some primary materials are not yet available even to researchers who have the company's blessing. Roy Disney's papers, made available to Bob Thomas for his biography, remain closed to most writers, as do materials with continuing legal significance (in what are called the “main files”). If such a thing as a “definitive” biography of Walt Disney is even possible, it will be decades before it can be written. I make no such claim for this book. But I know that it is far more accurate than most books about Walt Disney, and I hope that it also offers a strong sense of what the man Disney was like and why he still commands our attention today. If I have succeeded in those aims,
I will be more than happy to let someone else aspire to write the definitive biography much later in this century.

Little Rock, Arkansas
August 1, 2006

This book draws heavily on research I conducted for
Hollywood Cartoons: American Animation in Its Golden Age
, my history of Hollywood studio animation. Milton Gray, the animator who provided me with invaluable assistance during my work on that book, deserves just as much thanks for his contribution to
The Animated Man: A Life of Walt Disney
, even though I did not impose on him nearly as much this time around. I could use only a small part of the valuable information he gathered for me in the first book, and with this book I have made only another small dent in the accumulation.

I am grateful for the same reason to Mark Kausler, the greatest student of Hollywood animation. Without all the help he gave me in writing the first book, I could never have written this one. In writing about Walt Disney I have also received valuable help from my friends Robin Allan and J. B. Kaufman, two of the people most deserving of the much-abused title “animation historian.”

Kaye Malins, the greatest booster for Marceline, Missouri, the little railroad town where Walt grew up, gave my wife, Phyllis, and me a wonderful tour on a rainy morning in March 2005, and she has been a great help in other ways. Michael Danley helped me locate many rare documents. Paul F. Anderson provided me with missing issues of
The “E” Ticket
and his own excellent magazine about Disney,
Persistence of Vision
. Keith Scott, the greatest authority on cartoon voices, sent rare audiotapes of Walt Disney's radio performances in the 1930s and 1940s. Gail Fines, May Couch, and Craig Pfannkuche were of invaluable help in finding markers of the Disney family's life in the public records of Kansas City, Marceline, and Chicago, respectively.

I have enjoyed assistance from dedicated people at many libraries, archives, and other organizations, but especially the following:

David R. Smith and Robert Tieman of the Walt Disney Archives; Rosemary C. Hanes of the Motion Picture, Broadcasting and Recorded Sound
Division of the Library of Congress, Washington; Ned Comstock of the Archives of Performing Arts and Dace Taube of the Regional History Collections at the University of Southern California, Los Angeles; Howard Prouty, Barbara Hall, and Faye Thompson of the Margaret Herrick Library, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, Beverly Hills; Maria Morelli of the Howard Gotlieb Archival Research Center at Boston University; Carol Neyer, Lynn Rosenfeld, and Coco Halverson of the California Institute of the Arts, Valencia; Stine Lolk and Sven Hansen of Tivoli Gardens, Copenhagen; Sally McManus and Jeri Vogelsang of the Palm Springs Historical Society; Joan Blocher of Chicago Theological Seminary; Elizabeth Konzak of the University of Central Florida Libraries, Orlando; Carol Merrill-Mersky and Julio Gonzalez of the Hollywood Bowl Museum, Los Angeles; Fred Deaton of the Marshall Space Flight Center, Huntsville, Alabama; Janet Moat of the British Film Institute, London; Lillian Hess of the Danish Tourist Board, New York; Elaine Doak of the Picker Memorial Library at Truman State University, Kirksville, Missouri; Sara Nyman of the Kansas City, Missouri, Public Library; Eric Lupfer of the Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, University of Texas at Austin; Michelle Kopfer of the Dwight D. Eisenhower Library, Abilene; Carol Martin of the Harry S. Truman Library, Independence; Lisa L. Bell of Smoke Tree Ranch, Palm Springs; Martha Shahlari of the Jannes Library at the Kansas City Art Institute; Por Hsyu of the Burbank Public Library; and the interlibrary loan staff of the Central Arkansas Library System.

Phyllis Barrier, Milton Gray, J. B. Kaufman, and Mark Kausler read the manuscript and made many helpful suggestions.

During my work on
Hollywood Cartoons
, around 150 people who worked for Walt Disney or knew him in other settings sat for interviews with me or Milton Gray, or with both of us, mostly in person but sometimes by telephone. Others provided full tape-recorded responses to my written questions. Many of the people who sat for interviews also answered my questions in letters and provided me with documents of various kinds. It is a source of deep regret that so many of the people on the following list are no longer here to read this book. I regret too that not everyone on the list is represented in the text, but they all contributed to my understanding of Walt Disney and his work. I am grateful to:

Edwin Aardal, Ray Abrams, Kenneth Anderson, Michael Arens, Arthur Babbitt, Carl Barks, Aurelius Battaglia, Ed Benedict, Lee Blair, Mary Blair, Preston Blair, Billy Bletcher, James Bodrero, Stephen Bosustow, Jack Boyd, Jack Bradbury, Jameson Brewer (known in the 1930s as Jerry), Homer Brightman,
Bob Broughton, Jack Bruner, Robert Carlson, Jim Carmichael, Marge Champion, Donald Christensen, Ivy Carol Christensen, Bob Clampett, Les Clark, Claude Coats, William Cottrell, Chuck Couch, Jack Cutting, Arthur Davis, Marc Davis, Robert De Grasse, Eldon Dedini, Nelson Demorest, Philip Dike, Eyvind Earle, Mary Eastman, Phil Eastman, Jules Engel, Al Eugster, Carl Fallberg, Paul Fennell, Marceil Clark Ferguson, Eugene Fleury, Hugh Fraser, John Freeman, Friz Freleng, Gerry Geronimi, Merle Gilson, George Goepper, Morris Gollub, Campbell Grant, Joe Grant, Richard Hall (known in the 1930s as Dick Marion), David Hand, Jack Hannah, Hugh Harman, Jerry Hathcock, Gene Hazelton, T. Hee, John Hench, David Hilberman, Cal Howard, John Hubley, Richard Huemer, William Hurtz, Rudolph Ising, Willie Ito, Wilfred Jackson, Ollie Johnston, Chuck Jones, Volus Jones, Milt Kahl, Lynn Karp, Van Kaufman, Lew Keller, Hank Ketcham, Betty Kimball, Ward Kimball, Jack Kinney, Earl Klein, Phil Klein, Fred Kopietz, Eric Larson, Gordon Legg, Fini Rudiger Littlejohn, Hicks Lokey, Ed Love, Richard Lundy, Eustace Lycett, James Macdonald, Daniel MacManus, C. G. “Max” Maxwell, Helen Nerbovig McIntosh, Robert McIntosh, Robert McKimson, J. C. “Bill” Melendez, John P. Miller, Dodie Monahan, Kenneth Muse, Clarence Nash, Grim Natwick, Maurice Noble, Dan Noonan, Cliff Nordberg, Les Novros, Edwin Parks, Don Patterson, Bill Peet, Hawley Pratt, Martin Provensen, Thor Putnam, Willis Pyle, John Rose, George Rowley, Herb Ryman, Leo Salkin, Paul Satterfield, Milt Schaffer, Zack Schwartz, Ben Sharpsteen, Mel Shaw (known in the 1930s as Mel Schwartzman), Charlie Shows, Larry Silverman, Joe Smith, Margaret Smith, Carl Stalling, McLaren Stewart, Robert Stokes, John Sutherland, Howard Swift, Frank Tashlin, Frank Thomas, Richard Thomas, Clair Weeks, Don Williams, Bern Wolf, Tyrus Wong, Cornett Wood, Adrian Woolery, Ralph Wright, Rudy Zamora, and Jack Zander.

In addition, Marcellite Garner Lincoln, Tom McKimson, and Claude Smith provided helpful information through letters, and Fred Niemann shared his correspondence with Frank Tashlin.

After I began work on this book, I interviewed fifteen more people whose paths crossed Walt Disney's. I am grateful to:

Ken Annakin, Kathryn Beaumont, Frank Bogert, Jim Fletcher, Sven Hansen, Richard Jenkins, James MacArthur, Floyd Norman, Fess Parker, Harrison “Buzz” Price, Maurice Rapf, Norman Tate, Dee Vaughan Taylor, Richard Todd, and Gus Walker.

As indicated in the notes, I have been granted access over the years to the personal papers of a number of people who worked on the Disney films. I
am indebted to the following people for that access: to Nick and Tee Bosustow, for items from the papers of their late father, Stephen Bosustow; to Mrs. David Hand, for items from her late husband's papers; and to the late Polly Huemer, for items from her late husband's papers, in addition to those that Dick Huemer himself permitted me to copy.

At the University of California Press, Mary Francis, Rachel Berchten, and Kalicia Pivirotto have made transforming my manuscript into a book an exceptionally pleasant experience. And thanks also to Edith Gladstone for her scrupulous, attentive editing.

Finally, I am especially grateful to my agent, Jake Elwell, who guided me through many revisions of my proposal for this book. I think he believed even more than I did that I could write a Disney biography significantly different—and significantly better—than those that had come before.

Walt Disney was angry. Very angry. A few years later, when he talked about this time in his life, tears would come, but on February 10, 1941, his eyes were dry, and his voice had a hard edge.

He was speaking late that Monday afternoon in the theater at Walt Disney Productions' sparkling new studio in Burbank, in the San Fernando Valley just north of Los Angeles. That studio had cost more than three million dollars, and an experienced Hollywood journalist wrote after a visit that it compared with any other film studio “as a model dairy to an old-fashioned cow shed.”
¹
Disney was standing before several hundred of his employees, most of them artists of various kinds. Some directed his animated films, others wrote them. Still others—the Disney studio's true aristocrats—were animators, the artists who brought the Disney characters to life on the screen.

Walt Disney had nurtured his young animators throughout the previous decade, with spectacular results. In 1941, Disney could still lay claim to being a young man himself—he was not yet forty, slender and dark-haired, with a mustache and prominent nose that gave him a passing resemblance, especially when his face was in repose, to the actor William Powell—but he had been a filmmaker for almost twenty years. His earliest cartoons were lightweight novelties, just like almost everyone else's silent cartoons, but Disney stepped out of the pack when he began making sound cartoons in 1928. Over the next few years, he carried audiences with him into new territory, again and again, until, triumphantly, he made a feature-length cartoon,
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
, that was enormously popular with both critics and audiences. By the spring of 1938, little more than a year after it was released, that film had already returned to Disney and his distributor RKO almost seven million dollars—much more than any other sound film, and probably more than any other film ever released.
²
Its record was short-lived—
Gone with the
Wind
surpassed it the next year—but
Snow White
's audiences may have been larger, because so many of its tickets were sold to children.