Are You “Socially Mad” Or “Capably Glad”?
The Tragedy Of "Dear Mr. Watterson" (2013), And Your Mindset
Image by L.E. Wilson from “It’s ALL (owl) Good Times”
If we deconstruct storytelling to its simplest form, we find that characters tend to fall into either of two camps. On one side are negative, resentful, bitter, envious, spiteful, angry characters—let’s call them the “Socially Mad”—and on the other side are their opposite: positive, optimistic, grateful, cheerful, confident, happy characters—let’s call them the “Capably Glad,” of which SpongeBob, Ferris Bueller, Wayne Campbell (Wayne’s World), Cinderella, Baloo (The Jungle Book), Pee-Wee Herman, Del Griffith (Planes, Trains and Automobiles), and Elle Woods (Legally Blonde) are prime exemplars.
Additionally, many movies portray characters whose journeys take them from the “Socially Mad” side toward the “Capably Glad” side, thus showing a clear and sharp contrast between these groups in terms of personalities, relationships, and outcomes. Two of the most archetypical characters to have such a transformation are Charles Dickens’ Ebenezer Scrooge from a Christmas Carol, and Dr. Seuss’s Grinch from How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Variations of these two characters are found in a number of movies:
Moonstruck (1987): Ronny Cammareri
Scrooged (1988): Frank Cross
Groundhog Day (1993): Phil Connors
The Secret Garden (1993): Mary Lennox
High Fidelity (2000): Rob Gordon
It’s probably not a coincidence that many holiday movies tend to focus on reminding viewers to share in and contribute joy to the world, to have goodwill towards others, and to be filled with the holiday spirit, which includes gratitude for one’s life and optimism about the upcoming new year. And of course many of the life lessons found in popular and enduring movies are basically guidelines about how to stop being “Socially Mad” and start being one of the “Capably Glad”:
But ultimately wisdom needs to be applied in real life in order to gain any benefit, and it turns out that this dichotomy, this contrast between the “Socially Mad” and the “Capably Glad” applies not just to characters found in movies, but to ordinary people as well. Hence, watching a documentary about a real person is a good way to put to the test how these two drastically different perspectives shape outcomes.
For this analysis, we’ll be looking at the documentary Dear Mr. Watterson (2013). I chose this movie because Bill Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes is my favorite comic strip, and I don’t think that enough people know about it, which is a tragedy and one that is entirely Mr. Watterson’s doing.
Dear Mr. Watterson (2013) is a documentary directed by Joel Allen Schroeder about his love and appreciation for the newspaper comic strip Calvin and Hobbes, created by Bill Watterson.
Life Lesson: “Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.”
— L.M. Montgomery🍿Movie Scene Link (movie quote)
The documentary is made by a fan, Joel Allen Schroeder, and it ends with a feel-good sentiment that Calvin and Hobbes lives on in its pure form in libraries and family bookshelves. But I wanted to write about Calvin and Hobbes, about Mr. Watterson, because I don’t believe that this is the truth.
When I was growing up, yes, public libraries had a section for comics, and the books I found there included Calvin and Hobbes, Garfield, The Far Side, Dilbert, etc. Now the comics section at my local public library is all Manga, and kids today are interested in playing Minecraft and other video games, not in reading the funnies.
At my county’s online library, which serves 15 cities and about 2 million people, Calvin and Hobbes books are not available to borrow in digital ebook form, but thousands of Manga are (about 2,400) as well as hundreds of Minecraft and video game inspired ebooks. Of course part of this disappearance of the old is natural; it’s part of generational change, and it’s unavoidable. Nevertheless, some characters do endure through the generations: Mickey Mouse, Charlie Brown and Snoopy, Barbie, Dilbert, Garfield.
In fact, the only comic strips that I grew up reading that are available in digital form today through my local library are Scott Adam’s Dilbert, with about 40 ebooks, and Jim Davis’ Garfield, with about 140 ebooks. What the documentary tried to say about Calvin and Hobbes is in fact true of Dilbert and Garfield. They endure in libraries and family bookshelves, and there is one very good reason why.
Unintentionally then, these three talented, impactful cartoonists, Bill Watterson on the left and Scott Adams and Jim Davis on the right, illustrate the different outcomes that can result entirely from choosing either the “Socially Mad” mindset or the “Capably Glad” mindset to guide you.
Let me explain by going back to the beginning:
Calvin and Hobbes is a comic strip that was printed everyday in newspapers across the USA for ten years, from 1985 to 1995. It’s above all funny and imaginative, but it also touches on philosophical questions, offers gentle commentary about society, and delightfully illuminates human relationships. As Joe Wos, Executive Director of ToonSeum in Pittsburgh, PA says in the documentary,
This will change your life.
It’s so hard to just sum it up other than to say, this is every one of us.
Calvin and Hobbes was wildly popular and beloved by its fans. And then, unlike comic strips like Peanuts that continue in reruns (1950 - current), or that continue with substitute cartoonists like Hägar the Horrible, (1973 - current) and Beetle Bailey (1950 - current), Calvin and Hobbes just stopped being printed—some might say out of spite—because that is what its creator Bill Watterson wanted.
If true, then Bill Watterson destroyed the reach of his creation without much consideration to its fans, or potential fans, or the industry that allowed him this unique and amazing avenue to make a very comfortable living. And if true, then Bill Watterson is a real-life representation of the “Socially Mad” side of the ledger.
Fortunately, he has written about his reasons for this. You can read for yourself his essay in his anthology, as well as words from a speech he gave in 1989 at the Festival of Cartoon Art at Ohio State University and the commencement speech he gave at Kenyon College in 1990.
Here I will try my best to succinctly put forth his arguments to the best of my abilities using his words:
Comic strips are “at the mercy of a bloodsucking corporate parasite called a syndicate. […] Cartoon merchandising is a $12 billion dollar a year industry and the syndicate understandably want[s] a piece of that pie. […] The so-called "opportunity" I faced would have meant giving up my individual voice for that of a money-grubbing corporation. It would have meant my purpose in writing was to sell things, not say things.” […] “[Newspaper] syndicates (publishers, distributors) are only too happy to sell out the comic (artist/writer) for a quick buck” and “some very good (comic) strips” have been “cheapened” and “corrupted” by licensing that uses the comic strip characters to sell t-shirts, plush toys, boxer shorts and the like. This hurts the audience’s relationship to the characters. Merchandizing can even change the characters, the art, the creator, and the creator’s vision. It can distract the artist from the work, thus preventing the art from being the best possible. Watterson believes that products, or merchandizing, can’t reflect the “nuances” of comics and do not “fit with the spirit or message” of his comic strip. For example, products like greeting cards would distort his characters because they may have them saying or doing something that is out of character. “Everything I want to say I can say in the comic” and “[Calvin and Hobbes] was designed for this [comic strip] medium. It should stay in this medium.”
In order to better understand Mr. Watterson’s sentiments of artistic purity, I’ve attempted to put the above into a philosophical framework, which can be summarized thusly, “art before commerce.”
I believe that Watterson is arguing that art is a pure expression of life, of the emotional center that unites humanity. Therefore, he believes that trinkets, that is, licensing art to sell t-shirts, mugs, greeting cards, toys etc., is a corruption of that expression of art, of the message and meaning it is trying to convey. Moreover, I think Watterson would agree with some of the people interviewed in the documentary, like cartoonist Stephan Pastis of Pearls Before Swine, that a cartoonist letting a corporation use their comic strip characters as spokespeople is selling out or exploiting the trust built with the audience, and it’s false, untrustworthy, and inauthentic. To apply it more broadly, I think that Watterson is arguing that commercialism can only diminish art by weakening its principles, its core meaning and message, in order to appease to the most base instincts of greed, profit, ownership, and materialism. Art is not things. Art is something that rises above us at a spiritual level, and cannot be found in factory made products.
Excrement!—like Mr. Keating says in the movie Dead Poets Society. This is what I think of Mr. Watterson’s thesis. Art is very much things, objects, and to allow artists the means to create more art, they would be wise to sell at least some of their works to others. Watterson himself sold his comic strip to the syndicates he so maligns, which helped him to develop Calvin and Hobbes and did all the promotion and distribution on his behalf, which in turn helped him to sell his books, that is, things, objects to willing customers. It is buyers, usually relatively wealthy buyers, who have made possible the preservation and amplification of art, be it painting, sculpture, photography, literature, or the performing arts like opera and ballet. Art is not necessary for survival, so people struggling to meet their basic needs in terms of food and shelter are not really the ones buying and promoting art, so if a cheap reproduction of a painting or drawing is made available in postcard, t-shirt, mug or magnet form and this brings people comfort, who are you to look down on them for trying to bring some joy into their lives? Isn’t this pleasure at least part of the spiritual benefit obtained through art? But Watterson sneers at this, revealing the elitist attitude that lies at the core of his distaste, “I didn’t like the idea of using this hard-won, precious job to peddle a bunch if trinkets.” In other words, he saw the commerce part of the job as beneath him and never thought for a moment about all the people whose livelihoods depend on commerce, or the fans who would enjoy these “trinkets.” Not to mention the fact that one can sell objects and ideas simultaneously. Indeed, the “trinkets” can symbolically take on and encompass a larger meaning. The existence of Calvin and Hobbes merchandize would not necessarily detract from the books. As a matter of fact, the merchandize could enhance the relationships and messages established in the books.
Moreover, the artist has no control over how an audience will view, interpret, or regard a work of art. The idea that Watterson believes that Calvin and Hobbes can only truly be appreciated and understood in comic strip form suggest a uniformity of thought that doesn’t happen. It’s unrealistic. Readers can and will differ on the interpretation, meaning, and significance of the characters, their stories, and their interactions even if restricted to one medium, and they will take this very same understanding and apply it to the “trinkets” they acquire that reproduce enough of the sentiment to appeal to them in some way. In fact, Watterson lost more control by not licensing because of the proliferation of unlicensed Calvin and Hobbes merchandize that is available, e.g. Calvin car decals. Even if a company uses comic strip characters to advertise products, it doesn’t mean that people will just mindlessly buy things, and the truth is that a company that is willing to pay a well-regarded cartoonist for the rights to use cartoon characters probably has a good product that fans of the comic may very well appreciate being introduced to and purchasing. To attempt to control people’s thoughts, interpretations, and reactions, as Watterson suggests is his intention by limiting the comic to the printed page only, is an arrogant, elitist, authoritarian and ugly instinct, and one that flies in the face of loftier notions of art as a way for people, both artists and their audiences, to have and promote freedom of expression and freedom of thought.
This bitterness against commercialism sounds a lot more like an excuse to deny the “greedy” newspaper syndicates their share of profits that according to the documentary may have been in the hundreds of millions of dollars from Calvin and Hobbes licensing revenue. Watterson’s own words make clear that he felt pressured and took offense at the syndicates who wanted him to agree to a licensing agreement. So it all just comes down to spite, and like any negative emotion, you wind up hurting yourself and innocent people even more than those who you direct your anger towards. But just imagine for a moment if newspaper syndicates were put into a better financial footing because of an infusion of hundreds of millions of dollars into their industry in the 1990s? Wouldn’t this have allowed for an expansion of the comic pages? Wouldn’t it have allowed for more comic strip artists to get the opportunity to be published and syndicated like Bill Watterson did? Instead, the deterioration of the newspaper industry has led to even further shrinkage of the comic pages and even fewer opportunities for artists. Did this never occur to you, Mr. Watterson?
But there is also something else. Calvin is a naughty boy, much like Bart Simpson. They are both blonde little kids with spiky hair who get to terrorize others and say and do outrageous things under the cover of “being a kid,” or more precisely, the idea that “boys will be boys.” In a society where we are so constrained by what we can and cannot do, by all the rules implicit and explicit, and all the other stuff that doesn’t make any sense like sending kids to a factory-like school to be taught “units” by tired and uncreative teachers, Calvin and Bart Simpson are socially accepted pressure valves that allow us to quietly protest and rage against the oppressive constraints that don’t allow kids—or us—to challenge, to question, or even to be truly free to run around and play.
Watterson, of course, is Calvin, at least partly, and the refusal to agree to what his bosses wanted in terms of licensing is a demonstration of the rebellious spirit that energizes the comic strip. But at the end of the day, it is juvenile, shortsighted, and damaging. This is why becoming an adult is hard to do. Watterson made a decision that was rooted in pettiness:
I worked too long to get this job, and worked too hard once I got it, to let other people run away with my creation once it became successful.
And it is a decision more akin to a petulant temper tantrum from an entitled artist who didn’t have to do the hard work of marketing and selling himself—since he had the syndicate to do the “dirty” work—rather than a well-thought out and seriously considered position. Let me illuminate some of the things Bill Watterson didn’t take into account.
He was struggling to go back to an older paradigm in the same way I am. I want to go back to the library stacks like they used to be, and he wanted full page comics the way they were printed in the decades before his, when, not coincidentally, mass produced cheap “trinkets” were also a lot less common. But the forces of change—which are neither sinister nor intentional, they just are—prevent this. I can understand it, and hope you will too, but Mr. Watterson sure didn’t.
There is something compelling in what he is objecting to. It has the ring of authenticity and integrity, but it’s like raging against the dark, and ultimately it’s a misunderstanding and misinterpretation of reality. It reminds me of the word salad of some politicians when they speak. It sounds lofty and crowds cheer them, but what exactly is being said and what are the implications?
The mass market, where at one point a comic artist could reach millions of readers, was the daily newspaper. To ask professional cartoonists to give that up and put their work instead in “quality cartoon magazines” sold in bookstores and supermarkets, and to ask them to give up on the merchandizing potential as he insultingly did in his 1989 speech at the Festival of Cartoon Art, shows a kind of arrogant, self-righteous, naïveté that is utterly unhelpful and unproductive. Like a spoiled bratty child who takes his ball and goes home, Watterson never showed an appreciation or gratefulness for the rare chance he was uniquely given to earn hundreds of millions of dollars. It was an opportunity of a lifetime that he pissed away. And now, because of the collapse of the newspaper industry, no new comic strip character is likely to ever have the mass market impact that Calvin and Hobbes did.
The value of artistic work is in reaching people, not just for the opportunity to find a paying customer, it’s not just the commercial potential, but the opportunity to share with a larger audience the benefits, the joys, the insights, the truths, the beauty, the emotional power, and, in the case of some comic strips, the laughs they provide. To never consider the potential benefit to humanity, and only look through cynical eyes at the newspaper industry, and all business and commerce for that matter, is such a tragedy. It’s like spitting into a communal water well. It’s biting the hand that feeds you. And for what? To remember Calvin and Hobbes in the “proper” way?
What about the kid whose parents would never buy a comic magazine for them, but who could run across discarded newspapers in the recycling bin and read the funnies? Did you ever consider that Mr. Watterson? Did it never occur to you that “greedy” industries employ thousands and thousands of workers and provide valuable services to even more customers? Can you not see that in denying the syndicates profits that countless others were harmed, including potential artists, designers, readers, store owners, and the future of the comic strip art form itself?
How can you not see, or fully embrace, the potential of licensing and the good you could have done if you were given the opportunity to receive 40 million dollars or more per year? You could have bought land and built a nature preserve, or built a library, or created a foundation to provide opportunities to artists. Why would you turn all that real world impact to preserve the supposed purity of a cartoon, of what at the end of the day is a collection of drawings?
What a loss of foresight, of perspective, of imagination, of goodwill.
It’s a decision borne out of negativity, of cynism, resentment, and jealousy, of ugliness—and look at the result. Look at what happened. Look at the loss.
What a sad person one would have to be to be offended by a Garfield mug.
Not choosing to allow licensing of Calvin and Hobbes products and not allowing a reprint, rerun, or continuation of the comic strip by another cartoonist has hurt the long term legacy of the comic strip. People have forgotten. Merchandizing allows for the creation of new audiences. It allows new people to discover and share their interests, their joy, with others, and Watterson took all that away.
The day after Bill Watterson delivered his missive at the Festival of Cartoon Art to unsuspecting cartoonists, some of whom had been working professionally far longer than he, there was a response. Mort Walker, the creator of Beetle Bailey gave his rebuttal in a speech, which he began by saying, “I'm one of those old dinosaurs [Watterson] spoke of who draws one of those stupid strips,” which at that time he had been doing for 40 years.
“I love to see cartoon toys and t-shirts,” he continued.
“They add color, life, and good humor to the world.”
I agree with Mr. Walker, who also said that comic strips “add to the language of the country, comment on the foibles of society, and add to the fun of living.”
Add humor to the world. Add to the fun of living. I believe this is the way. This is the higher plane of existence, the higher ground. This is the apex of spirituality to me. Mort Walker also demonstrated gratitude in that speech, noting that he owed much of his early success to King Features Syndicate, which “advised me, encouraged me, and had salespeople out there selling for me.”
The ending of the article reporting on the Festival of Cartoon Art shows the contrast between a happy cheerful, confident person, Mort Walker—the “Capably Glad”—and Bill Watterson, the “Socially Mad” grump:
Walker and Watterson also had very different approaches to dealing with the public at the three-day festival. Walker agreed to numerous requests to do autographed sketches and pose for photos, while Watterson declined to give autographs and requested no photos and no taping of his remarks.
On that day, who would you rather meet? Who would you rather be? Who do you think is happier?
Bill Watterson could have found a way—within the context of running a business that other people depended on for their livelihoods—to maintain the quality and integrity of any licensed product so that Calvin and Hobbes would continue to last and endure in the public consciousness to this day with a living legacy.
It’s just a shame that he couldn’t get himself to work out a business arrangement and adopt a better, more productive, more charitable mindset. How great things might have been for so many more people.
For me, this is a cautionary tale about the difficulty and the effort that it takes to get ourselves out from the “Socially Mad” mindset into the “Capably Glad” mindset. It’s not easy, but I have no doubt that everything would be a lot better for everyone if more people did.
Nevertheless we have to focus on and appreciate what we do have, which is some Calvin and Hobbes books in some public libraries, and in some bookstores. If you can find any of them, please give this comic strip a try. It’s very special and good.
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I found this piece really interesting especially the idea of art as voice versus art as product. And the view of the AND - how an artist can still keep their voice and have their product being worth shared and distributed. His view (and perhaps privilege) didn't allow him to see the joy he brought others, and how a little trinket could be meaningful to someone. Thoughtful piece... and inspiring as I work to have my own art as voice and product. Thanks for sharing!
You give me much to think about. As a lifelong Watterson fan (I am not aware of a time when I was not well-acquainted with his work) I tend to side with him in his fight against commercialization of his artistic legacy. However, you raise some good points about motivation, selfishness, and the duty an artist has to the world around them.
Is there an ethical line, though? Is an artist required to submit to the demands of the market? Is it true that "he who pays the piper calls the tune", and is there any limit to what "tune" can be called? If the artist legitimately feels that a certain application of their artwork would pollute their message, can they put a stop to that use? And who gets to decide the meaning of "legitimate" in that instance?
It is ironic that several of the "elitist" artists have made heaps and heaps of money off their art (Damien Hirst and Jeff Koons come first to mind), while other "popular" artists (Thomas Kinkade) have gone the commercialist route and suffered no dilution of their underlying artistic message.
As an example of the exact opposite of what has happened to Calvin and Hobbes, you really ought to watch this hour-long analysis of Garfield. It has some pretty disturbing imagery so be careful if the kids are in the room. https://youtu.be/O2C5R3FOWdE