My Life with Charlie Brown

Comic Inspiration

57 Comic Inspiration i ’m not often asked where I get my ideas for drawing Peanuts, like that little French café where Snoopy sits and passes the time talking to the waitress. I don’t know exactly where that idea came from—drawing a comic strip is sort of a mysterious process —but I have been to Paris a few times over the years. During my last visit, the Louvre put on a one-man show with the original artwork from about 80 Peanuts strips. The French gave me a nice medal, and I was awarded the title of Commander of Arts and Letters—not bad for a guy who just draws a dog and little kids with big heads. As a celebration, my family and I had dinner at Maxim’s. Even though I’d eaten there once before, the whole experience was something of a mystery: You’re not quite sure what you’re ordering, you don’t know what anything costs, and everything is pompous. But dining at Maxim’s is one of those experiences everyone should have at least once. I’d visited France long before that, during World War II, when my squad got off the troopship in February 1945 and was stationed briefly at a château near Rouen—the Château Malvoisin, which means the “house of the bad neighbor.” I used to think and dream about that building all the time. It was 58 My LIfe gray stone, with a stone wall around it forming a paddock where my squad set up camp. A few years ago I went back to see the château, and there I got the idea for the movie Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown, where Charlie Brown and his friends go to France as exchange students. Naturally, they spend a night at the château. It’s funny how images from your travels stick in your mind. The first trip I remember was when I was six. I grew up in St. Paul, Minnesota , where my dad had a barbershop. (Charlie Brown’s dad is also a barber.) My father decided to move to Needles, California, so we piled into our 1928 Ford and drove across America. We camped out every night; I used to wonder what it would be like to stay in a hotel. We either pitched a big tent in a campground or stopped overnight in what they called tourist cabins. Each one was just a box with nothing in it. It was the era when Americans first took to the highways to see the country. Along the road I remember standing on a picnic table and getting my first glimpse of the mountains far in the distance; I suppose they were the Rockies. I can still see them. Finally we arrived in Needles on a very hot night—most nights in Needles are very hot—and we lived there for a year. In my comic strip, Snoopy’s brother Spike lives near this same desert town, where we usually see him sitting by a saguaro. But I didn’t get my idea of his surroundings from childhood memories. Mine is just a cartoon desert, a made-up place. Most comic strip ideas are like that. They come from sitting in a room alone and drawing seven days a week, as I’ve done for 40 years. And some things from my travels would never fit into Peanuts anyway. I’ll never forget a cruise my daughter and I took with three other couples to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. When our ship docked, a friend and I went for a lunchtime stroll through the picturesque seaside town—and bumped into Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. It’s hard to believe, but they invited us up to their home and showed 59 Comic Inspiration us around. I remember that the house was hung with paintings and had lots of open windows. It was quite an experience. After all, is there a man on earth who wouldn’t like to spend 20 minutes with Elizabeth Taylor? But I don’t think we’ll ever get to see it in Peanuts. Charles M. Schulz, “Comic Inspiration,” National Geographic Traveler, July/August 1991, 25. ...