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The Only Day Charles Schulz
Made Any Of Us Sad
by Rick Marschall
This week marked the 25th anniversary of the death of Charles Schulz, which itself coincided with the publication of his announced retirement of Peanuts -- in its 50th year.
There scarcely is a person in the United States, or the world, who does not know the name Charles Schulz (fewer know his nickname Sparky, presciently bestowed by a relative in honor of the comic-strip character Spark Plug, then a national rage). So I was not alone when I wrote a fan letter when I was 11 or 12.
By return mail I received a nice note, and an autographed daily original. It was -- of course! -- cherished through the years, and it hung on many walls.
Through the years I acquired many more originals and inscriptions and signed books, but more important to me, we became friends.
I served as his editor at United Feature Syndicate; we worked on projects together; he was the only living cartoonist, of 16, I profiled in my Abbeville Press book America's Great Comic Strip Artists; he contributed to one of my books on Little Nemo; I travelled to Paris to be with him when he received the Order of Arts from the French Ministry of Culture; he wrote me fan letters when some of projects (Nemo, the Classic Comics Library; Hogan's Alley Magazine which I founded) were published; and so forth. I continue on the list for the annual PEANUTS calendars, a gesture from his widow Jeannie; but it floored me that Sparky sent me inscribed copies of his books when issued.
A major-length interview with Sparky was a cover story in the last issue of my magazine (first run; more to come!) Nemo. It was pirated and made into a book by an Italian publisher, and has appeared in other forms, other venues, subsequently.
In his young days the famously reticent Charles Schulz was an evangelist of sorts, sharing his faith on street corners. And he drew cartoons for Christian magazines for years (for the denomination to which I now belong). Before my interview, he asked me not to venture into matters of faith, and I agreed. But he did so on his own, on and (especially) off-mike. On his studio's bookshelves he had many Bibles and Concordances.
It always thrilled me when he called my home, out of the blue, to discuss favorite cartoonists of his childhood, or strip characters' names he forgot... or anything else related to comics. (Including his opinions on contemporary cartoonists and strips... which I will never share.)
Two full years -- I thought enough time -- before Peanuts' anniversary, I wrote to Sparky, inquiring about the possibility of working on a book. Well, it had already been arranged, he wrote back; and "It's too bad because I know you and I could have done something really good."
Well, Sparky, we had, already. You sparked up my life in myriad ways. As you did with an entire generation, and more generations to come.
