The Untold Story of Charlie Brown
Forty-seven years ago tomorrow marks a day, I would venture to say, no one in any of my circle of friends and their circle of friends even knows took place. A week ago, I flew up to Santa Rosa, California to find out the whole story behind this fascinating moment in history.
Nearly everyone knows Charlie Brown and his smart-aleck-y pooch, Snoopy. But what you might not know is the cast of characters didn’t start out the way it ended up. In fact, it was notably missing some color within its black and white pages.
Last Friday started out like any other. I was tired and the boys were up far earlier than was necessary or compassionate. Good grief they woke up up early. I showered and dressed, got in my car, turned on Waze, but I wasn’t heading to work. I was headed straight into my childhood, and the only way to get there was by plane.
We were flying to the Charles M Schulz Museum to learn about the world of Peanuts and meet the cast and crew of the new Peanuts Movie. I expected a fun interview and a rad museum (I’ve been before!), but what I got, quite in addition, was a cultural reality check.
I always thought the characters I grew up with were the ones that began with the comic strip. But that was until I met Harriet Glickman. Harriet was a former schoolteacher in a Los Angeles suburb back in 1968. Deeply distraught by the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Ms. Glickman wrote to Charles Schulz to request he include a person of color in his comic strip. His response was much faster than she anticipated, and their correspondence lasted around three months.
At the museum, I got to read their preserved letters. Initially, his only reservation was figuring out how to integrate a minority character without being patronizing to an entire culture. In fact, he and several colleagues had been discussing the issue at length prior to her letter. Revelation one: there were no people of color in Peanuts when it began. I had taken this all for granted.
By early July, Schulz had written her to say, “I have drawn an episode which I think will please you.” The result came a few weeks later with the arrival of a brand new character Charlie Brown met on a beach. His name was Franklin, and unlike Lucy or Peppermint Patty, Franklin was neither a caricature or a shallow image, but simply a good-hearted friend.
Schulz drew praise but the detractors made their voice loud and clear. Based on Ms. Glickman’s account, several newspapers in the south, facing “forced integration” in their schools, began threatening United Features Syndicate with business cancellation if ‘colored children’ appeared in classrooms with white kids. Again, Schulz drew his response in the same bold lines and sharp detail as his comics. They would run his comics as-is, or they could fire him. Revelation number two: Charles M Schulz, nicknamed Sparky by his close friends and family, had massive huevos.
As Ms. Glickman later said in our chat, “Unfortunately we have not gone terribly far, progressed very far from some of the things that troubled me at the time.” It’s true. The hashtags and photographs and video clips in our feeds say as much. But we should all be as vocal as Harriet Glickman, and as forthright as Peanuts creator, Charles M. Schulz. To draw the lines, and dash our black and white issues with massive swatches of color. Humanity needs artists and writers and thinkers who dream big, and make big observations even in tiny, four-frame comic strips.
Tomorrow, just 47 years ago, a cartoon character made people angry, and overjoyed in the very same pen stroke. The power of Peanuts continues with a new film coming out on November 6th. Thank you Harriet Glickman, and Sparky. And to Franklin, now 47 years old, who is looking more vibrant than ever.
Andrew says: 
Sean 
