I SMELL A RAT!
Walt Disney didn’t invent Mickey Mouse; he created the ’toon with a friend — whom he then ripped off
ACCORDING to Walt Disney, the idea for Mickey Mouse suddenly popped into his head on a 1928 cross-country train ride “when the business fortunes of my brother Roy and myself were at [their] lowest ebb,” as he wrote in 1948.
Nice story. It’s become part of American lore. But it’s not true.
In reality, Mickey Mouse was created by an animator named Ub Iwerks — sketched in March 1928 on an ordinary piece of two-hole punch paper in less than an hour.
Iwerks has been largely forgotten by the general public, his place in creating the Disney brand downplayed. Walt made sure of that, says a new book, “AMouseDivided” by Jeff Ryan (Post Hill Press), out Tuesday.
“After [Walt and Ub’s] acrimonious breakup, Walt started telling a story that he had made up Mickey solo, leaving Iwerks out of the equation,” Ryan tells The Post. “As he kept adding to it, people began to realize it wasn’t true. Walt knew what audiences wanted wasn’t the unglamorous truth but a legend, a myth.”
Walt and Ub, whose full name is Ubbe (pronounced “oob”) Iwwerks, started out as best friends. The two men met in Kansas City in 1919 while working at an art studio. They soon launched their own animation venture, producing cartoon shorts that were screened before feature films.
Their biggest success was Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, but the men lost control of the character after a disagreement with a distributor. A replacement was needed. Walt and Ub sat down and began brainstorming. Ub drew a horse, a cow, a frog and a dog, but none worked. Finally, Walt suggested a mouse.
Ub went to work and soon filled a piece of paper, divided into six panels, with various versions. One looked more rat-like, with a long, thin snout. Others were dressed in a shirt and necktie. Another was a female, with dramatic eyelashes and a skirt. The final choice, circled in Ub’s blue pencil, shows a crude version of Mickey with the familiar silhouette and two-button pants.
Iwerks soon got to work on Mickey’s first animated short, a May 1928 tribute to Charles Lind- bergh called “Plane Crazy.” The animator drew every frame himself, cranking out an unheard-of 700 illustrations a day.
The film was shown at a single Hollywood theater and failed to secure a distributor. Mickey’s follow-up, “The Gallopin’ Gaucho,” also didn’t get picked up for theaters.
It wasn’t until November1928’s seven-minute “Steamboat Willie,” the first Mickey cartoon with synchronized sound, that the character took off. After it was first screened for Walt on a bed sheet hung on the wall inside the Disney studio, the studio head declared, “This is it! We’ve got it.”
“Steamboat Willie” secured a twoweek engagement at New York’s Colony Theater and became an immediate hit. It was so popular that it played before and af- ter the feature film. Celebrity Productions picked up the national distribution rights. Several more shorts followed. Audiences continued to adore the lovable little rodent. Mickey Mouse, “in a few months’ time, has become a star and worth a star’s billing,” film critic C.A. Lejeune wrote in 1929. Mickey even blew up overseas, becoming so popular that a 1931 Nazi publication felt the need to condemn him as “filthy, dirt-caked vermin.” But Ub and Walt’s relationship had begun to fray. Iwerks chafed under the bullying Disney, who treated him less like a partner and more like an employee. According to Iwerks’ wife, the two men were out to lunch one day in 1930 when a young Mickey fan approached them. Walt asked Ub to whip up a quick sketch for the lad and promised to sign it.
“Draw your own goddamn Mickey,” Ub shot back.
So when Iwerks was offered his own animation studio in 1930, he bolted. For his 20 percent stake in the Disney studio, Iwerks got just $3,000.
Iwerks Studio began producing cartoons featuring new creations, including Flip the Frog. After Walt got wind of Iwerks’ new character, he commissioned a “Silly Symphonies” short with his own cartoon frogs. That production beat Iwerks’ cartoon to theaters by three weeks.
And when Iwerks tried playing Walt’s devious games, he couldn’t compete.
Clarence Nash was a traveling entertainer and impressionist, who Disney invited to do voice work after hearing Nash’s popular bit about a duck reciting “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”
Iwerks also lured Nash to voice a cartoon duck, but technical problems scuttled the recording. In the meantime, Nash phoned Disney and told him what Iwerks was planning. Walt ordered the actor “not to do a damned thing for [Iwerks].”
And that’s how Disney got Donald Duck.
Iwerks was a brilliant animator, but without Walt’s storytelling, his cartoons ultimately fell flat.
His studio went belly up in 1940 and Iwerks put “aside his manque pride” and wrote Walt a letter, seemingly seeking reconciliation. Iwerks soon found himself working for Disney again. It’s unclear if Walt simply took pity on him or if the awkwardness between the men had faded — although “it’s very probable,” said animator Grim Natwick, the two never went back to being friends. Iwerks worked in various technical capacities at Disney for years, this time as a rank-and-file employee, not a partner. As Iwerks faded into obscurity, his creation continued to explode — first in mountains of merchandise, then with television shows, theatrical films, a daily comic strip, a theme park and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Mickey Mouse was the first animated character to receive that honor.
Iwerks died in 1971, his legacy diminished by the not-so-wonderful world of Disney.