Charles Schulz: Quotes from The Commonplace Book

“Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos.”
― Charles M. Schulz

From the Schulz File

“Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos.”
― Charles M. Schulz

“My life has no purpose, no direction, no aim, no meaning, and yet I'm happy. I can't figure it out. What am I doing right?”
― Charles M. Schulz

Pumpkinification I: It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!

It has been said that it is not A Halloween special, it is THE Halloween special. Charles Schulz first came up with the concept of the Great Pumpkin in 1959. It was a simple idea: Linus in his eagerness confuses the holidays and ends up with the idea of a holiday gift-giver who comes on Halloween. Schulz is reported to have said (by Bill Melendez and Lee Mendelson) something along the lines of "...the Great Pumpkin is really a kind of satire on Santa Claus, because Linus of course writes for gifts and expects to get them. And when the Great Pumpkin doesn't come, Linus is crushed. And it shows that you can't always get what you hoped for but you can still survive...and you can keep trying. Linus never gives up, just like Charlie Brown."[1] The special premiered in 1966, and has run every year since, entering the popular imagination of generations.

It has inspired parodies and tributes from Robot Chicken

And The Simpsons

To artists at DeviantArt.

An odd thing about these representations is the general consensus many people have about what the Great Pumpkin looks like, even though Schulz is commonly supposed to never have drawn any pictures of him. This might be true: but in October of 1977 a strip appeared with this image in the header, (here generously colored by my brother John):

Could this be the Great Pumpkin? The strip it appears with particularly mentions him flying through the air.

As a kid who grew up in a religion that strictly prohibited tricks-or-treats, it was a glimpse into forbidden fun for us. But Linus's situation as someone who believed in a system alternate to the mainstream paradoxically had special meaning to me at the same time. And it's applicability appears widespread: "Linus's seemingly unshakable belief in the Great Pumpkin, and his desire to foster the same belief in others, has been interpreted as a parody of Christian evangelism by some observers. Others have seen Linus's belief in the Great Pumpkin as symbolic of the struggles faced by anyone with beliefs or practices that are not shared by the majority. Still others view Linus's lonely vigils, in the service of a being that may or may not exist and which never makes its presence known in any case, as a metaphor for mankind's basic existential dilemmas. Charles Schulz himself, however, claimed no motivation beyond the humor of having one of his young characters confuse Halloween with Christmas."[2]

Little bits of animation (since edited out) announced the sponsors:

and I remember hearing about Dolly Madison cakes with every Peanuts special I watched up into the Seventies.

And I'd like to end by adding for the record that, for all her crabby reputation, Lucy shows herself to be a truly caring sister. Her objections to Linus's belief in the Great Pumpkin are partly worry for the social grief it could bring Linus himself. Throughout her own trick or treating she constantly asks for candy for Linus, so he will not be left totally out. In the end, she wakes up at four o'clock in the morning to herd her little brother out of a freezing pumpkin patch and into his warm bed. Pretty tender for a girl with such a hard outer shell.

[1] "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown": The Making of a Television Classic, by Lee Mendelson.
[2] Wikipedia.

Two Comics Collections: A Twosday Twofer

The Wizard of Id: 1972 Daily and Sunday Strips, by Brant Parker and Johnny Hart, Titan Books.

I think everyone likes to remember certain periods of the past by the best products of the time. When I recall what it was actually like to live in the 1970's, I think of ubiquitous cigarette smoke, awful synthetic fabric, and social and political unrest everywhere. One of the best things that came out of the Seventies (and one of the few things that made them bearable to live through) was the humor. And I find that some of the best humor is now preserved in these yearly collections of The Wizard of Id.

Created by Brant Parker and Johnny Hart, punched up by gag writers Jack Caprio and Dick Boland, the comic is set in the pseudo-medieval Kingdom of Id, ruled over by a short and short-tempered King. His main advisers are the Wizard (an incompetent magician) and Rodney (a cowardly knight). The concept of the strip allows for a broad spectrum of humor, from full-out jokes on human nature, to jabs at the social problems of the day, to fantasy-specific gags about magic and fairy tales (these last I particularly enjoy). Because of the Cloud-Cuckoo-Land setting the humor seems less of a period piece and more perpetually applicable.



The Complete Peanuts: 1985 to 1986, by Charles Schulz, Fantagraphic Books. Foreword by Patton Oswalt.

Few people reverence the art and achievement of Charles Schulz or love his creation, Peanuts, more than I do, but I have to admit (which I think few connected to the project of publishing the complete strips would) that by the mid-Eighties the comic was definitely on the downswing. Much of the humor seems to be Schulz saying "Look at these wacky trends! Aren't they funny?" rather than making any real gags. It's kind of like seeing your grandfather, if he been an elegant champion-grade ballroom dancer, trying to stay relevant by attempting to break dance. Patton Oswalt in his introduction points out how much of the comic during these years are "shadow autobiography," dealing with lawyers and product licencing; other parts seem recursive, the characters and established themes feeding in on themselves instead of blossoming outward.

But there are occasional nuggets of silver in the silt, if little gold, and I intend to keep collecting this series to the end, which should come in seven more volumes. As I said, I love Peanuts, and this complete collection will make obsolete a ton of the old Fawcett-Crest paperbacks I've been collecting since I was in second grade. With this volume I finally noticed a design feature of this set. On the spine of each cover is a little oval cartouche with a different Peanuts character. On the books from 1950 to 1974 the characters are walking to the left; on the 1975-1976 volume Charlie Brown stares straight ahead; after that, the characters are headed to the right. They seem to be headed to the future. I am going that way with them.

10 Books A Day: #9

Today's ten books are all part of one set. So instead of individually writing out the long repetitive name of each volume (which is virtually the same, except for dates) I'll write the overall title, then list the years and the writers of the introductions for each. These are:

The Complete Peanuts: The Definitive Collection Of Charles M. Schulz's Comic Strip Masterpiece...Charles M. Schulz...Fantagraphics

I. 1950-1952, Garrison Keillor

II. 1953-1954, Walter Cronkite

III. 1955-1956, Matt Groening

IV. 1957-1958, Jonathan Franzen

V. 1959-1960, Whoopi Goldberg

VI. 1961-1962, Diana Krall

VII. 1963-1964, Bill Melendez

VIII. 1965-1966, Hal Hartley

IX. 1967-1968, John Waters

X. 1969-1970, Mo Willems

These are great books. Every single strip, dailies and Sundays, are all gathered here for the first time. You get to see strips that were excluded from anthologies before for being too topical; the ephemeral nature of the joke made being based not on universal themes but on some passing happening makes it something of a social artifact if not a classic observation, and that makes it of extra interest to me. You watch Schulz's evolving style, you walk his neighborhoods of long sidewalks, little trees, and board fences. You watch the Peanuts gang as new characters are introduced, grow, and develop; you watch as some fade away. I learned that the two little identical girls in the Christmas special that I always wondered about were 3 and 4, 5's sisters, rather obscure characters that came and went but are now forever immortalized each holiday season.

I think it would be difficult to explain to the present generation just how popular Peanuts was. Schulz and the strip have been gone for almost nine years now, except for re-runs run in newspapers and the yearly TV specials, media which nowhere have the same impact they once did. But at the time I began reading Peanuts it was at its greatest popularity. The catalog page from 1971 reproduced above gives some small idea of what it was like. Peanuts was loved by hippies and conservatives alike; its gentle humane philosophy crossed boundaries. I thought at the time that he was one of the best and wisest men alive.

I learned later about the darker side of Schulz, his divorce (scandalous to us at the time) and his depression. But I have come to realize that it was his persistence in the face of this darkness that makes his achievement all the more remarkable. It is that quality in Charlie Brown, always losing, but never defeated, picking himself up, dusting himself off, and "ready for more punishment" facing the next day that makes him, in the final analysis, a hero.

And I need all the heroes I can get.