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14 December, 1999
I was five years old when "A Charlie Brown Christmas" was first broadcast. In 1964 Lee Mendelson was producing a documentary on cartoonist Charles Schultz. An executive at Coca-Cola (who was sponsoring the documentary) asked if Shultz had ever considered doing a Christmas special. Mendelson told the executive it just so happened they were working on one. He called Schultz and said, "I think I just sold the Peanuts Christmas show." "What Christmas show?" Schultz asked. "The one you're writing this weekend," Mendelson replied.
The executives loved the outline Schultz and Mendelson showed them the following week. Bill Melendez was brought in to direct. Schultz, Mendelson, and Melendez set to work. They produced the half-hour animated show in less time, and for less money, than promised. When CBS received the show, they hated it. Schultz, Mendelson, and Melendez had chosen to use real children to provide the voices. They had asked Vince Guaraldi to compose a jazzy sound track that would appeal to adults and children alike. The script included a religious message. And they refused to add a laugh track.
Right up to an hour before broadcast, the network was
considering pulling it from the air. But finally they let it go on.
It was an unqualified hit. It set a new record for ratings. It was praised by critics (it was even mentioned in a New York Times music critics' column, where the sound track was hailed as ground-breaking). It went on to win many awards, and a special place in the hearts of millions of people. Myself included.
What makes it so special, even thirty-four years later, is its genuineness. From Charlie Brown's insecurities to Lucy's cruelty, everything in the story feels as if it could really happen. Even Lucy's "Psychiatric Advice, 5-cents" stand was uncannily prophetic. Just take a look at certain radio personalities, often with "Doctor" attached to their nbame, claiming to solve all of your problems after hearing just a few moments of your life over the phone... for a price, we see that Mr. Schultz was right on the money.
I've seen many people try to read a gay/lesbian fable into "A Charlie Brown Christmas." But I think if you only see it that way, you're missing a lot. Okay, I admit, it seems pretty suspicious that a kid like Charlie Brown, just moments after being asked to direct the school Christmas play, is able to spout off all that very thorough theatre jargon. But there are a few straight people involved in the theatre. Charlie Brown's problem is that he feels excluded from everything. And the solution to his problem comes when Linus reminds him and all of the other kids that the essence of the Christmas message is that love and joy belong to everyone.
I do harbor the belief that, if Charlie Brown ever did come out, Linus, at least, would stick by him. But that's because Linus is the archetypical Good Friend. The one who never lies to you. The one who remains loyal whether you win or lose. The guy you can just hang out with doing nothing, and never feel uncomfortable.
There are many times in our lives that we have all felt like Charlie Brown. We don't feel that we're taken seriously. Or that the contributions we make are appreciated. And we've all wished that someone like Linus would come into our lives, to explain things, wrap a trusty blanket around the problem, and help everyone remember that the only thing that really matters is the love you give away.
The secret is to remember that each and every one of us has the power to be someone's Linus. Look around you. Is there someone who needs a word of encouragement? A hug? Don't be afraid to give it to them. You'll be glad you did.
Note to the readers: I've been horribly behind on e-mail for a while, now. I've received a number of wonderful, thought-provoking messages from several of you, and I haven't been prompt to reply. I'm taking a couple weeks off work for the holidays, and e-mail may get even further behind. I apologize in advance. The essays will continue throughout. Happy Solstice!
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This page is copyright 1999 by Gene Breshears. Photograph is copyright 1998 by Julie Rampke. All Rights Reserved.