In the next two days, I’m going to celebrate the birthdays of two of the twentieth century’s great creators—one an illustrator, one an author. For several decades January 29 has been a birthday dear to me. In the last week of January, during Bill Peet’s lifetime, thousands of cards and greetings arrived from children across America to his publisher’s office in Boston. He never wrote for, nor cared much about, critics. But he loved his audience—and they loved him in return.
Born in 1915 in Grandview, Indiana, Bill attended the John Herron Art Institute in Indianapolis, where he met his wife Margaret. Recruited by Walt Disney for his new film company, Bill moved to Los Angeles and worked for twenty-seven years on classic Disney films—Fantasia, 101 Dalmations, Peter Pan, Sleeping Beauty, and Alice in Wonderland. In 1959 he wrote and illustrated Hubert’s Hair Raising Adventure—the first of many books with great storytelling, cartoon-style illustrations, and animal characters engaged in fantastic adventures. Eventually, he was able to work on the books full-time and leave behind his often conflicted relationship with Disney. Although Bill’s stories can be read for their light-hearted nonsense and memorable verse, he created characters who experienced universal problems—fear, loneliness, and self-doubt. Bill also tackled timely issues—both The Wump World and Farewell to Shady Glade address environmental concerns.
In 1989 Bill created one of the best autobiographies published by a children’s book author, Bill Peet: An Autobiography. In it he honestly addressed the personal issues of his life and filled the pages with his spirited and extremely funny drawings. I was fortunate to work with Bill for many years. Whenever I was on the West Coast, I would see Bill and Margaret, usually at their beautiful home located in the Hollywood Hills. A magnificent lemon tree grew on their property, and I always came back to the East Coast bearing lemons for the publishing staff in Boston. It was just the sort of thoughtful and kind gesture that made Bill such a joy to be with.
At one conference, when Bill was about to appear for an autographing, I was alone in a booth setting up stacks of books. Two eager seven- or eight-year-old boys approached the table. “Is Mr. Peet here yet?” they asked. I said he would be right along. “And will he have his bodyguard with him?” they inquired. “Oh, no,” I said. “Well why not?” came the quick retort. “The president has a bodyguard, and Mr. Peet is more important than the president.” To these children and to so many others Bill Peet has truly been much more important than the president. His books—filled with humor and action and an understanding of childhood—continue to make young readers laugh as they turn the pages.
Happy birthday Bill! I am so glad that children today still have these glorious books.
Here’s a page from The Wump World:
