Monte Schulz' Response To Schulz and Peanuts

From Cartoon Brew's comments:

I forgot to look for responses to my last message on here, but seeing the comments, I believe I need to clarify a few things. First of all, we did not expect, nor did we desire, a fan-bio on Dad. I spoke with David Michaelis on a regular basis for the six years he worked on the book and discussed many issues with him. We knew he’d write about the affair and had no dispute with him at all over that. Nor did we anticipate the book being merely a glowing tribute. After all, we didn’t hire him to write the book; we simply agreed (myself and stepmother) than he seemed to be a good choice. He brought the project to us; we did not seek anyone to write Dad’s biography. Remember, he sold the bio to Harper Collins, not to us. So why the complaints?

How could we have been so surprised by what he wrote? And why does he and Harper Collins maintain that I, in particular, had the chance to correct any errors in the book, yet chose not to? Well, this is not a good venue to explain all this in full, but I’ll summarize as best I can. First of all, there are three levels of problems in the book for me (and not only the family objects to this book, by the way, but also everyone in Dad’s inner circle — close friends, his lawyers, business associates, etc.), and they are as follows: an array of factual errors, both large and small, which highlight David’s intentions in the book; a number of people who were interviewed but whose comments were essentially excluded because they either contradicted or failed to support David’s thesis; and lastly, the greater part of Dad’s story, which David’s deliberately left out of the book because it did not interest him.

Now, we were sent a manuscript at Christmas time last year to read through and comment on. I spoke with David just a couple of days before receiving my copys and reiterated my support of his book, and his right as a writer to voice his opinion (which is another reason why we’d never sue him, even if we had grounds: we believe in his First Amendment rights and his legitimacy as an author). But once I read the manuscript and several of the things in it, well, basically, the top of my head blew off. Factual errors, by example: he argued that my dad was able to work so effectively because my mom ran the place where we lived, doing all the cooking, cleaning, etc. But he left out a wonderful black woman who worked for us almost seven years, Eva Gray, one of the dearest people I ever knew (she just died last year, and we made sure that she and her husband Jim were able to attend Dad’s memorial service), and very integral to our lives back then. David leaves her out of the book entirely, boosting Mom’s roll in our lives and diminishing Dad’s. Then, when he does mention her as fixing snacks for us in 1969 while my mom worked at our ice arena, it’s absurd because she hadn’t been with us for three years by then, having left in 1966 to help with her husband’s business.

He also talks about how my mom had built a pond in 1960 and stocked it with bass so my grandfather could fish when he visited (more proof of everything my mom did, which Dad did not), but, in fact, that pond didn’t even exist until seven years or so later, well after my grandfather was already dead. Just two of many, many factual errors, minor except in their intent, and unnecessary because David could easily have asked me about them during his writing. He didn’t because he’s arrogant. Also, he wrote about how we were inundated by strangers visiting for autographs and Kodak pics of Dad. Not true. I have no memory of strangers driving onto our property (which was not the vast estate David makes it out to be), nor does my sister Jill, nor does my mother. It wasn’t true. Lots of errors like that, careless, silly mistakes. There was no bid of $170,000 in ‘69 for the ice arena, and therefore the costs did not, as David wrote, balloon up 780% to 1.25 million. That latter number was the actual bid. I know this because my stepfather was the contractor and that was his bid. He was astounded that David would write that first number. Lots of mistakes like that.

But what about voices who weren’t heard? Well, for example, he only spoke to my sister Jill once over a lunch and that was that. He did interview Cathy Guisewite, but then called back to ask her, if you can believe it, whether or not my dad “came on to her.” Is he joking? Cathy knew Dad for more than twenty years, and except for one or two lines, David left her out of the book in favor of Lynn Johnston who provided much more provocative information, much of which (particularly in the first draft) is silly and self-serving.

He cherry-picked quotes, put ones together that did not belong together (getting my sister Amy in a section about how Dad was unaffectionate to his children to say that she had to learn to hug from the Mormon church. Actually, she told me that she explained to David how when she was younger, she hated people invading her personal space, but when she joined the Mormons, people were always coming up and hugging her, so she had to learn to do so, as well. But she said that story had nothing to do with Dad at all). Yet David conflated the ideas together.

For my part, Dad was a wonderful parent, reading to me, teaching me to throw baseballs, watching movies with me, driving me to school for years, taking me down to SF for doubleheaders, hitting fly balls to me for hours, teaching me how to shoot marbles, sharing his books with me as I grew older and began to write, flying out to Minnesota with me to help buy sheets and pillows for my dorm room, picking me up at the airport each time I flew home, and even in the last six months of his life, staying up late at the ice arena, well past his bedtime, to watch his 49 year old son play hockey games. None of that is in the book. nor are Dad’s passions for golf (which he played all his life, including at the Bing Crosby Pro-Am and the Dinah Shore Invitational for years, baseball (he coached our Bronco League baseball team one summer when I was twelve), tennis where he and my stepmother joined club and met many new friends and played tournaments (he and I won a father-son tournament when I was in my late 20s) and met Billie Jean King, went to Wimbledon twice and became very involved with the Woman’s Sports Foundation, a huge part of his life. And, of course, he loved books, movies, cars, music. What does David mentions of that? Nothing?

Does he name Dad’s, say, five favorite books? Nope. Artists? Nope. He writes a lot about “Citizen Kane” but not about “Beau Geste” or any of Dad’s other favorite films, because the Welles movie influences David’s theme and the others don’t. Why only ten lines or so about the Santa Barbara Writer’s Conference, which Dad and I attended for more than twenty five years? That was huge interest of Dad’s. He loved books and writing and talking about both. In David’s first draft, his only mention of the conference was regarding Dad’s “writer’s conference girl-friend, Suzanne Del Rossi,” a completely preposterous page and a half about a woman Dad knew there, someone all of us knew, anyone attended the conference knew, who was married and flirted endlessly, not only with Dad but with many other men there. And nothing ever happened because it was only for fun. Reading that section is what put me over the edge, because I knew then that David had no desire to tell Dad’s life, but rather was more interesting in moralizing and psychoanalyzing Dad because David himself loves analysis. That’s his story, but not ours.

So, why didn’t I correct him when I read that first version? Because to change the central erroneous nature of what he’d written would have required a massive re-write and re-thinking of the entire book, something he would never have had time to do, even had he the will and the desire, which he obviously did not. I did not want to clean up the minor errors, only to see the bigger ones remain. Again, I’m only touching on a few issues. If any of you want me to answer anything with greater specificity, I’d be happy to do so. I apologize for rambling like this, but the story is very convoluted. I will tell you that NY Times piece happened because a long interview I did for Time magazine was apparently killed somewhere high above the magazine, up at corporate (I’m not allowed to say more than that), and therefore I was directed to the NY Times reporter who, sadly, hadn’t even read the book when we spoke.

Let me tell you, though, that David never met my father, and basically hid from us what he intended to write. This is very apparent when you read some of the email exchanges we had over the years, and what we spoke about on the phone. I used to ask him not to babble about how Dad was depressed all the time because it wasn’t true, and “don’t write some kind of tabloid novel about Dad’s life.” To which he’d always respond, “I wouldn’t spend six years writing that kind of book.” But he did. Oh, someone asked about any of us carrying on Dad’s legacy. Well, none of us can draw, nor do we have the same sensibility he had toward his characters. The strip was his, but we were the ones who made the decision (by renewal copyright law in the ’70s) have the strip die when he did. We have our own lives and interests, though Dad did tell a friend that he thought my fiction was “raising the level of art in the family.” Thanks for that, Dad! Nor true, of course, but I do my best. Yes, all of this, even responding on here is frustrating, but that biography is so absurdly false in so many ways, I could not just be quiet. I’m mostly disappointed that so many reviewers apparently believe what’s in it. Such is life.

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That's enlightening! I'm still curious to read it, but I'll make sure to take it all with a mountain of salt.