Generations of comics readers and TV watchers view Peanuts as merely a kind-hearted cartoon, rife with gently humorous observations about human nature. Yet, in the 50 years of his life in print, Charlie Brown did a whole lot more than tickle the funny bone of those perusing the Sunday papers. Though his character was forever thwarted in his attempts to kick a football, Schulz succeeded in creating a media empire that spanned print, TV and merchandising, and generated millions of dollars. In biography Schulz and Peanuts (2007, HarperCollins, 655 pages, U.S. $34.95), author David Michaelis looks to the comic strip for insights into the life of its creator and the intricacies of his relationship with television. Schulz himself was quoted as saying, “If somebody reads my strip every day, they’ll know me for sure — they’ll know exactly what I am.” However, despite Michaelis’ impressive breadth of research and painstakingly thorough (and at times absurd) analysis of the comic strip that both catalogued and drove Schulz’s life, the artist and media mogul remains elusive. Success was hard won for Schulz, despite his singular talent and determination. Trained only by a correspondence drawing course, Schulz worked diligently and suffered many rejections in seeking to get his strip picked up by a syndicate. However, his skill was undeniable, and when United Features Syndicate finally premiered his strip on October 2, 1950, he was off and running. It was not long before Peanutsoutgrew newsprint. Merchandisers came knocking, looking to slap Snoopy’s recognizable mug on everything from linens to plush toys, and the entertainment industry soon followed suit. However, Schulz was reluctant to lend his characters to film and TV projects. “There are some greater things in the world than animated cartoons” became his mantra over the next 10 years. Schulz’s real fear was that Hollywood would swoop in and change his characters’ “essential qualities.” But by 1965, when CBS and CocaCola offered to fund a Peanuts Christmas special, a producer named Lee Mendelson had earned Schulz’s trust through collaboration on a handful of commercials. Schulz was confident that Mendelson and his selected director, Bill Melendez, would preserve the look of his uncluttered drawings and the integrity of his vision. He was ready to make his magnum opus. Throughout his life, Schulz was determined and willful, but never were these traits so apparent as during the development of A Charlie Brown Christmas . Melendez recalled that the illustrator “was very sensitive and [collaborators] had to be very careful” when dealing with him. In spite of objections from his director and producer, Schulz was insistent that the special be a condemnation of the holiday season’s materialistic side. Surprisingly, Michaelis fails to call attention to the irony of Schulz’s eagerness to comment on commercialism. He had made millions licensing his characters into merchandizing and endorsement deals and would go on to make a Peanuts special for every holiday including, laughably, Arbor Day. The director and producer voiced their objections to Schulz’s offbeat ideas, but the artist would have his way, and Charlie Brown’s quest V I D E O • A G E MAY 2 0 0 8 8 B o o k R e v i e w Schulz’s Life In The Unfunny Pages Although author Michaelis dutifully recounts the particulars of Schulz’s professional success and personal life, he neglects to fully assess his impact on the entertainment industry. Charlie Brown and his friends changed the way people thought about comics. Suddenly, two-dimensional drawings could become TV stars, sell cars and insurance, and work their charm in countless languages. Though the world saw Schulz simply as Charlie Brown’s human incarnation, he was, in truth, an entertainment and marketing genius. Charles Monroe Schulz was born on November 26, 1922, in St. Paul, Minnesota to a German immigrant and his Norwegian-American bride. Schulz was dubbed “Sparky” by one of his many boisterous Scandinavian relatives while still in infancy. The nickname became ever more contradictory as Schulz grew up — he was a reticent child and an insecure adult. But it nevertheless stuck, contributing to the “Average Joe” image that made him likeable to the public despite the phenomenal wealth he eventually accrued. Michaelis delights in pointing out similarities between young Schulz and Charlie Brown. Both had barbers for fathers, an affinity for little red-haired girls, and a love-hate relationship with a “dog that thought he was a human.” Throughout the book, landmarks from Schulz’s upbringing and childhood friends pop up in the abundant strips that accompany the text. However, the most poignant resemblance of the illustrator to his round-headed drawing is the loser mentality, the shared fixation on being a “bland, stupid-looking kid” unworthy of love or recognition. For Charlie Brown, it was a trait that would draw millions of sympathetic readers to the strip. But for Schulz, it represented a deeper struggle with neuroses and undiagnosed depression. Charles Schulz passed away in 2000. His contribution to the world of comics is immeasurable, and the sheer joy he has brought to the public cannot be denied. Michaelis’ book pays tribute to the adventures of Schulz’s iconic characters in their famed holiday specials and on the printed page. However, when it debuted, Michaelis was denounced by Schulz’s surviving family members. They accused him of deliberately portraying the icon in an unfavorable light, and calling attention to his crippling social deficiencies and greed. But Michaelis’ account is nothing if not balanced. The book’s shortcomings occur not because the analysis is biased, but rather because its focus is off. Michaelis uses Schulz strips to explain the inner workings of Schulz’s psyche, which, coming from an author and not a psychoanalyst, seems presumptuous and irrelevant. Surely, not every strip Schulz ever created reflected his inner turmoil. The intriguing part of Schulz’s story is not in his unknowable emotions, but his impact on comics, entertainment, merchandizing and even holidays, the world over. ES for the true meaning of Christmas became the special’s centerpiece. When A Charlie Brown Christmaswas finally presented to CBS executives, one week before it was scheduled to air and $25,000 over the miniscule $150,000 budget, the suits were baffled. The movie had a melancholy jazz score by Vince Guaraldi, lacked the laugh track that was standard in cartoons of the day, was voiced by children rather than professionals and featured Linus reciting a biblical passage at the climax. All of these were Schulz’s touches. Expecting the worst, they broadcast the quirky film on December 9, 1965. The movie was an instant hit, declared a “Yule classic,” and nominated for prestigious TV awards. Letters poured into CBS, thanking the network and the man of the hour, Charle Schulz. Money-wise, A Charlie Brown Christmascontinues to be a gift that keeps on giving for CBS, which re-airs the special each year.
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