Film & Movies
The “Chanticleer” Saga — Part 3
In this three part series from August 2000, Jim Hill looks at the long history of the Walt Disney Company’s attempts to turn Edmund Rostand’s satirical comedy, “Chantecler” into an animated motion picture.

OUR STORY SO FAR: Since the late 1930s, Walt Disney had been trying to turn Edmund Rostand’s satirical comedy, “Chantecler” into an animated motion picture. But — in spite of the best efforts of the studio’s top artists and storymen — the project just wouldn’t jell. So Walt reluctantly tabled the proposed film back in the early 1950s.
Flash forward to 1960. Ken Anderson and Marc Davis — fresh off “101 Dalmatians” — were looking for a project they could use to drag Disney’s animated cartoons into the modern age. A story without a princess or a female fiend for a villain. A film that would work at two levels — so that children and adults could both enjoy it.
While poking around the morgue (Excuse me. “Animation Research Library”), Ken and Marc came across all the development art for those earlier versions of “Chanticleer.” Here finally was subject matter that challenged and inspired Anderson and Davis. Here was something that they could really work with, sink their teeth into, shape into an extraordinary animated film.
Working closely with Ken, Marc mapped out plans for a cartoon unlike anything Disney Studios had ever done before. The animated equivalent of a Broadway musical comedy, “Chanticleer” would have wildly funny characters, brassy musical numbers as well as a visual style and flair that would place it light years ahead of “Snow White” and “Cinderella.”
Which was kind of ironic. For — just as Ken Anderson and Marc Davis were making bold new plans to move Disney animated cartoons into the future — Roy Disney was trying to talk Walt into making feature length ‘toons a thing of the past.
Mind you, Roy’s reasoning seemed sound. Disney Studio already had 17 feature length animated cartoons in the can. These types of movies cost a lot of money to make as well as taking years to produce. So why go through the expense and bother of making new animated features when the company could make just as much money re-releasing the old films?
Walt was sorely tempted. Particularly when Roy pointed out that the money the company saved from cutting out cartoons could be applied toward the construction costs of that second theme park Walt was toying with building. But — in the end — the younger Disney just couldn’t bring himself to pull the plug on feature animation. All Walt would agree to do was scale back the studio’s feature animation operation.
At that time, Walt Disney Productions only had two animated films in active development: Bill Peet’s Arthurian fantasy, “The Sword in the Stone” and Marc and Ken’s “Chanticleer.” And — per Walt’s agreement with Roy — one of those films would now have to be shut down.
Without Bill, Marc or Ken’s knowledge, Walt brought himself up to speed concerning the current status of both projects. He did this by slipping into the animation building after hours, going into Peet, Davis and Anderson’s offices after they’d gone home for the day and examining all the pre-production art they’d produced for “The Sword in the Stone” and “Chanticleer.”
After reviewing all of the conceptual material, Disney quickly came to one conclusion: In spite of the film’s heavy reliance on magic, it looked like “The Sword in the Stone” would be the easier (read that as cheaper) of the two films to produce. It was strictly a numbers thing. “Sword”‘s cast was smaller and mostly human — which made its characters easier to draw. That film’s story — though episodic in nature — also seemed to have a bit more heart than “Chanticleer.” (Wart was an underdog that an audience could care about, root for. Chanticleer was … well … a pompous, preening rooster who thought the sun only rose because he crowed every morning. This was not exactly a character that an audience could immediately be expected to warm up to).
“Sword in the Stone” had no elaborate musical numbers to stage, nor would its characters need big name celebrities to successfully voice their parts. The final decision seemed like a no brainer. Bill Peet’s “The Sword in the Stone” would be the safer (read this also as cheaper) of the two films to produce. So Disney would have to pull the plug on “Chanticleer.”
Now came the tough part. Walt was fond of both Marc and Ken. He knew that these guys had labored for the better part of a year in their attempt to turn “Chanticleer” into an animated feature. But Disney just didn’t have the heart to tell them that all of their hard work was for naught, that their film wouldn’t be going into production.
In the end, Walt couldn’t bring himself to tell Davis and Anderson that “Chanticleer” was canceled. So he didn’t.
He let a member of Roy’s staff — with a mumbled aside — do the dirty work for him.
Marc knew he was in trouble the moment he saw where Walt was sitting.
Normally — at pitch meetings like this — Disney liked to be down front, dead center. Walt wanted to be as close to the action as possible, ready to leap up and act out a funny bit of business or quickly point out where the project had gone off track.
But Walt wasn’t sitting down front for the “Chanticleer” meeting. He quietly took a seat at the back of the room and avoided all eye contact with Davis and Anderson. The seats in the front row? They were all taken by “Roy’s Boys” — executives who worked on the financial side of the studio.
Marc and Ken quickly exchanged worried glances. But then, gathering his courage, Davis stepped to the front of the room and began his pitch for the proposed animated film.
No sooner had the phrase: “The hero of our story is Chanticleer, a rooster…” left Marc’s lips when one of Roy’s boys muttered to his co-horts: “A chicken can’t be heroic.”
Then Marc knew. 30 seconds into his pitch, “Chanticleer” was already dead in the water. All of Davis’s wonderful character sketches. All of Ken’s beautifully rendered backgrounds. None of that stuff mattered. This movie was never going to get made.
Still Marc pressed on — hoping against hope that he could win this audience over to the idea of doing an all-animated Broadway style musical that starred a chicken. No dice. The people attending this pitch session were polite but indifferent. For they knew what Anderson and Davis didn’t: That Walt had already canceled “Chanticleer.” He just hadn’t gotten around to telling them yet.
When the session was over, those in attendance shuffled out silently — not saying a word.
That includes Walt. Especially Walt.
A week went by and Davis nor Anderson heard nothing from nobody. They just sat in their offices, shell-shocked at how badly the “Chanticleer” pitch session had gone.
Ken’s colleagues at Feature Animation gave these two a wide berth, avoided these two veteran animators like the plague. No one wanted to be associated with a development team that had failed that miserably in a pitch session for a proposed animated feature.
Only Davis and Anderson knew that they hadn’t really failed. They were certain that “Chanticleer” — as they designed it — would have made a wonderful animated film. Sure, it would have cost a bit more to make, taken a lot longer than “Sword” to produce. But audiences would have loved the finished product.
Only this time around, there wasn’t going to be a finished product. For some reason, the accountants — not Walt — were now calling the shots at Walt Disney Studios. And that meant an ambitious, expensive animated feature like “Chanticleer” was never going to make it off the drawing board.
What hurt most was not hearing from Walt. Walt — the guy who’d so strongly encouraged them to take this approach with the material. Walt — the guy who’d seemed so eager to get a “Chanticleer” movie made. Walt — the guy who sat in the back of that pitch session and didn’t say a word.
For a week, Marc waited by the phone — hoping that his boss would call and explain what the hell was happening. Why Roy’s Boys were suddenly deciding which features Disney’s animators could and couldn’t make.
Finally, the phone did ring. And — yes — it was Walt. But there was no explanation. No apology. Just a job offer.
“Marc,” Walt said, “Those guys at WED aren’t very good at staging gags. People have been complaining that Disneyland’s shows have gotten kind of humorless. Do you think you could go over to Glendale and help them out?”
That was it. No “I’m sorry I let the accountants torpedo your film.” No “You and Ken did a really great job. It’s just not the right time to make this movie.” No “That was the best work you guys ever did. I’m truly sorry that we can’t make this movie.” Just “Could you go over to Glendale and help those guys out?”
So Marc — because of his strong sense of personal loyalty to Walt Disney — went over to WED and helped those guys out. And he never returned to Feature Animation.
But — In the 17 years he stayed in Glendale working at Imagineering –Davis helped create some of the greatest theme park attractions the Disney theme parks had ever seen: “The Jungle Cruise.” “The Enchanted Tiki Room.” “It’s a Small World.” “Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln.” “The Carousel of Progress.” “Pirates of the Caribbean.” “The Haunted Mansion.” “The Hall of Presidents.” “County Bear Jamboree.” “America Sings.”
All of them great shows. Each of them displaying that distinctive Marc Davis touch.
But Marc never entirely forgot about “Chanticleer.” It was — to borrow a tired phrase that almost every angler uses — “the big one that got away.” The great film that would have really put a cap on his career as a master animator.
Ah, well … It wasn’t meant to be, I guess.
Mind you, this didn’t stop Davis from folding characters and concepts he created for “Chanticleer” into his work at WED. Take another look at those singing chickens in “America Sings.” Do they look familiar? They should. Those birds belting out “Down by the River Side” are modeled after the feathered French hens would who have played the chorus in “Chanticleer.”
And it wasn’t just Marc that kept trying to recycle pieces of this proposed film. His character sketches for the aborted 1960s version of “Chanticleer” were so good, they quickly become the stuff of legends around Disney Feature Animation. Artists would repeatedly go down to the morgue (Excuse me. “Animation Research Library”), pull out the full color, beautifully rendered drawings Marc made for the movie and just marvel at them.
These drawings were so good — in fact — that veteran Disney animator Mel Shaw pulled them out in 1981 to try and sell Disney management on the idea that it was finally time for the studio to make “Chanticleer.” Hoping to improve the proposed project’s chances, Shaw worked up a story treatment that stressed the rooster’s heroic qualities — making him “the most MACHO (chicken) in all of France.”
Mel also threw together an inspiring set of pastel and watercolor conceptual drawings as he tried to sell the studio on making his vision of the film. But the folks running Walt Disney Productions in the early 1980s were more cautious and conservative then “Roy’s Boys” were back in 1960. They quickly shot down the idea of the studio ever doing “Chanticleer” as a full length feature.
When word got out that Disney had once again rejected the idea of doing “Chanticleer” as an animated feature, one man rejoiced. That man’s name? Don Bluth.
Two years earlier, Bluth had made a very public break from the animation operation at Walt Disney Productions. Tired of the heads of the studio constantly cutting corners, always going for the safer choices, Bluth — one of the most talented young animators Disney Studio had at the time — bailed out of Burbank. He left his cozy corporate nest, taking 15 or more of Disney’s top young animators with them.
These folks started a new animation studio, “Aurora Productions.” Their mission: to make great animated films like Walt used to do. Movies like “Pinocchio” and “Bambi.” With strong storylines and full animation. Not tired, half-hearted films like “Robin Hood” and “The Aristocats.”
Right out of the box, Aurora Productions did make a great animated film. Maybe you’ve seen it … “The Secret of Nimh?” This film has everything a hit movie should have: A solid, moving story with superb animation. Characters you care about. Big laughs. Great action sequences. A beautiful score.
Yep, “The Secret of Nimh” had everything that a hit film should … everything except an audience. In spite of receiving tremendous reviews, “Nimh” really didn’t do all that well at the box office and quickly faded from sight.
But still — buoyed by those great reviews (as well as those encouraging phone calls from Spielberg and Lucas) — Bluth remained hopeful. Maybe someday — if he played his cards right — Don might get his shot at turning “Chanticleer” into a great animated film.
For — during his 10 year long tenure at the Mouse House — Bluth too had been down to the morgue (Aw … forget it!) and seen Marc’s drawings. That’s why he knew that a truly fine animated film could be pulled out of Rostand’s barnyard comedy.
10 years later, Don did get his chance at turning “Chanticleer” into a feature length animated film. And while it would be nice to report that Bluth did want Disney couldn’t: turned this French satire into a successful cartoon … that’s not exactly what happened, kids.
What went wrong? Well, for starters, Bluth’s version of “Chanticleer” — entitled “Rock-a-Doodle” — moves the story to America and turns this French vain rooster into … well .. sort of a feathered Elvis.
Then there’s the problem with the villain. Bluth knew that if he borrowed Disney’s proposed antagonist — Reynard the Fox — that it would be too obvious where he had cribbed his original source material from. So Bluth opted to create an all new villain for his “Chanticleer” cartoon: the Grand Duke (voiced by Christopher Plummer), an owl who wanted Chanticleer out of the way so that the sun would never rise again and the world would be forever shrouded in darkness.
Alright, so that’s exactly not the greatest motivation for a movie villain. There’s still lots to like about Bluth’s “Rock-a-Doodle.” Mouse fans will be pleased to hear that old Disney favorites like Phil Harris and Sandy Duncan provide voices for characters in the film. And — as a sly tribute to the original author of “Chanticleer,” Edmund Rostand — Don named the little boy/cat who drives the action in the movie Edmund.
Unfortunately, audiences in April 1992 (when “Rock-a-Doodle” finally made its stateside debut) weren’t feeling as kindly toward Don Bluth as I did. They greeted the film with indifference. “Rock-a-Doodle” got lousy reviews, did terrible box office and quickly sank like a stone.
So — since Don Bluth Productions turned out such a mediocre “Chanticleer” movie — that’s the end of the story, right? No one will ever again attempt an animated version of Rostand’s play, correct?
Not necessarily.
Modern Disney master animator Andreas Deja remains a huge fan of Marc Davis’ conceptual work for “Chanticleer.” In Charles Solomon’s great book about Disney animated features that never quite made it off the drawing board, “The Disney That Never Was,” (Hyperion Press, 1995), Deja is quoted as saying:
“Marc designed some of the best looking characters I’ve ever seen — these characters want to be moved and used.”
Deja’s obsession with this material continues to this day. This past April — as part of the “Tribute to Marc Davis” that was held at the Samuel Goldwyn Theater in Hollywood — Andreas took a few moments to show the crowd some of Marc’s drawings from “Chanticleer.” As he looked up at the images on the screen, Deja remarked:
“It’s kind of sad that this movie was never produced; the studio decided to do ‘Sword in the Stone’ instead. Which is also a very good movie, but wouldn’t it have been nice to see these characters come to life? Apparently, at that time, the studio felt — according to Marc — that it would be too difficult to develop sympathy for a chicken. I don’t think so. I have sympathy for these guys.”
He added, while still looking up at the pictures, “One of these days, I’ll have to sit down and do a few pencil tests of these characters — just to see them move.”
So there you have it, kids. Fowl fans rejoice! Particularly now that Dreamworks SKG had a huge hit this past summer with Aardman Animation’s “Chicken Run.” Maybe someday Deja will put together a test that finally convinces the accountants who are running the Walt Disney Company that there’s a great film to be made from Marc Davis’ “Chanticleer” conceptual material.
Here’s hoping, anyway.
Film & Movies
Before He Was 626: The Surprisingly Dark Origins of Disney’s Stitch

Hopes are high for Disney’s live-action version of Lilo & Stitch, which opens in theaters next week (on May 23rd to be exact). And – if current box office projections hold – it will sell more than $120 million worth of tickets in North America.
Stitch Before the Live-Action: What Fans Need to Know
But here’s the thing – there wouldn’t have been a hand-drawn version of Stitch to reimagine as a live-action film if it weren’t for Academy Award-winner Chris Sanders. Who – some 40 years ago – had a very different idea in mind for this project. Not an animated film or a live-action movie, for that matter. But – rather – a children’s picture book.
Sanders revealed the true origins of Lilo & Stitch in his self-published book, From Pitch to Stitch: The Origins of Disney’s Most Unusual Classic.

From Picture Book to Pitch Meeting
Chris – after he graduated from CalArts back in 1984 (this was three years before he began working for Disney) – landed a job at Marvel Comics. Which – because Marvel Animation was producing the Muppet Babies TV show – led to an opportunity to design characters for that animated series.
About a year into this gig (we’re now talking 1985), Sanders – in his time away from work – began noodling on a side project. As Chris recalled in From Pitch to Stitch:
“Early in my animation career, I tried writing a picture book that centered around a weird little creature that lived a solitary life in the forest. He was a monster, unsure of where he had come from, or where he belonged. I generated a concept drawing, wrote some pages and started making a sculpted version of him. But I soon abandoned it as the idea seemed too large and vague to fit in thirty pages or so.”
We now jump ahead 12 years or so. Sanders has quickly moved up through the ranks at Walt Disney Animation Studios. So much so that – by 1997 – Chris is now the Head of Story on Disney’s Mulan.


A Monster in the Forest Becomes Stitch on Earth
With Mulan deep in production, Sanders was looking for his next project when an opportunity came his way.
“I had dinner with Tom Schumacher, who was president of Feature Animation at the time. He asked if there was anything I might be interested in directing. After a little reflection, I realized that there was something: That old idea from a decade prior.”
When Sanders told Schumacher about the monster who lived alone in the forest…
“Tom offered the crucial observation that – because the animal world is already alien to us – I should consider relocating the creature to the human world.”
With that in mind, Chris dusted off the story and went to work.
Over the next three months, Sanders created a pitch book for the proposed animated film. What he came up with was very different from the version of Lilo & Stitch that eventually hit theaters in 2002.
The Most Dangerous Creature in the Known Universe
The pitch – first shared with Walt Disney Feature Animation staffers on January 9, 1998 – was titled: Lilo & Stitch: A love story of a girl and what she thinks is a dog.
This early version of Stitch was… not cute. Not cuddly. He was mean, selfish, self-centered – a career criminal. When the story opens, Stitch is in a security pod at an intergalactic trial, found guilty of 12,000 counts of hooliganism and attempted planetary enslavement.
Instead of being created by Jumba, Stitch leads a gang of marauders. His second-in-command? Ramthar, a giant, red shark-like brute.
When Stitch refuses to reveal the gang’s location, he’s sentenced to life on a maximum-security asteroid. But en route, his gang attacks the prison convoy. In the chaos, Stitch escapes in a hijacked pod and crash-lands on Earth.


Earth in Danger, Jumba on the Hunt
Terrified of what Stitch could do to our technologically inferior planet, the Grand Council Woman sends bounty hunter Jumba – along with a rule-abiding Cultural Contamination Control agent named Pleakley – to retrieve (or eliminate) Stitch.
Their mission must be secret, follow Earth laws, and – most importantly – ensure no harm comes to any humans.
Naturally, Stitch ignores all that.
After his crash, Stitch claws out of the wreckage, sees the lights of a nearby town, and screams, “I will destroy you all!” That plan is immediately derailed when he’s run over by a convoy of sugar cane trucks.
Waking up in the local humane society, Stitch sees a news report confirming the Federation is already hot on his trail. He needs to blend in. Fast.
Enter Lilo
Lilo is a lonely little girl, mourning her parents, looking for a pet. Stitch plays the role of a “cute little doggie” because it’s a means to an end. At this point, Lilo is just someone to use while he builds a communications device.
Using parts from her toys and a stolen police radio, Stitch contacts his old gang. But Ramthar, now the leader, isn’t thrilled. Still, Stitch sends a signal.
Then he builds an army.
Stitch Goes Full Skynet
Stitch constructs a small robot, sends it to the junkyard to build bigger robots. Soon, he has an army. When Ramthar and crew arrive, Stitch’s robots surround them. Ramthar is furious, but Stitch regains command.
Next, Stitch sets his robotic horde on a nearby town. Everything goes smoothly until a robot targets the hula studio where Lilo is dancing. As it lifts her in its claw, Stitch has a change of heart. He saves her.
From here, the plot begins to resemble the Lilo & Stitch we know today. Sort of.
The Ending That Never Was
In Sanders’ original version, it’s not Captain Gantu who kidnaps Lilo, but Ramthar. And when the Grand Council Woman comes to collect Stitch, Lilo produces a receipt from the humane society.
“I paid a $4 processing fee to adopt him. If you take Stitch, you’re stealing.”
The Grand Council Woman crumples the receipt and says, “I didn’t see it.”
Nani chimes in: “Well, I saw it.”
Then Jumba. Then one of Stitch’s old crew. Then a hula girl. And finally, Pleakley pulls out his CCC badge and says:
“Well, I am Pleakley Grathor, Cultural Contamination Control Agent No. 444. And I saw it.”
Pleakley saves Stitch.


How Roy E. Disney Made Stitch Cuddly
Ultimately, this version of Lilo & Stitch was streamlined. Roy E. Disney believed Stitch shouldn’t be nasty. Just naughty. And not by choice – he was designed that way.
Which is how Stitch became Experiment 626. A misunderstood creation of Jumba the mad scientist, not a hardened criminal with a vendetta.
The rest, as they say, is history.

Ricardo Montalbán’s Lost Role
Here’s a detail that even hardcore Lilo & Stitch fans may not know: Ricardo Montalbán—best known as Mr. Roarke from Fantasy Island and Khan Noonien Singh from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan—was originally cast as the voice of Ramthar, Stitch’s second-in-command in this early version of the film. He had already recorded a significant amount of dialogue before the story was reworked following Roy E. Disney’s guidance. When Stitch evolved from a ruthless galactic outlaw to a misunderstood genetic experiment, Montalbán’s character (and much of the original gang concept) was written out entirely.
Which is kind of wild when you think about it. Wrath of Khan is widely considered the gold standard of Star Trek films. So yes, for a time, Khan himself was supposed to be part of Disney’s weirdest sci-fi comedy.
Stitch’s Legacy (and Why It Still Resonates)
Looking back at Stitch’s original story, it’s wild to think how close we came to getting a very different kind of movie. One where our favorite blue alien was less “ohana means family” and more “I’ll destroy you all.” But that transformation—from outlaw to outcast to ohana—is exactly what makes Lilo & Stitch so special.
So as the live-action version prepares to hit theaters, keep in mind that behind all the cuddly merch and tiki mugs lies one of Disney’s strangest, boldest, and most hard-won reinventions. One that started with a forest monster and became a beloved franchise about found family.
June 26th is officially Stitch Day—so mark your calendar. It’s a good excuse to celebrate just how far this little blue alien has come.
Film & Movies
How “An American Tail” Led to Disney’s “Hocus Pocus”

Over the last week, I’ve been delving into Witches Run Amok, Shannon Carlin’s oral history of the making of Disney’s Hocus Pocus. This book reveals some fascinating behind-the-scenes stories about the 1993 film that initially bombed at the box office but has since become a cult favorite, even spawning a sequel in 2022 that went on to become the most-watched release in Disney+ history.
But what really caught my eye in this 284-page hardcover wasn’t just the tales of Hocus Pocus’s unlikely rise to fame. Rather, it was the unexpected connections between Hocus Pocus and another beloved film—An American Tail. As it turns out, the two films share a curious origin story, one that begins in the mid-1980s, during the early days of the creative rebirth of Walt Disney Studios under Michael Eisner, Frank Wells, and Jeffrey Katzenberg.
The Birth of An American Tail
Let’s rewind to late 1984/early 1985, a period when Eisner, Wells, and Katzenberg were just getting settled at Disney and were on the hunt for fresh projects that would signal a new era at the studio. During this time, Katzenberg—tasked with revitalizing Disney Feature Animation—began meeting with talent across Hollywood, hoping to find a project that could breathe life into the struggling division.
One such meeting was with a 29-year-old writer and illustrator named David Kirschner. At the time, Kirschner’s biggest credit was illustrating children’s books featuring Muppets and Sesame Street characters, but he had an idea for a new project: a TV special about a mouse emigrating to America, culminating in the mouse’s arrival in New York Harbor on the same day as the dedication of the Statue of Liberty in 1886.

Katzenberg saw the patriotic appeal of the concept but ultimately passed on it, as he was focused on finding full-length feature projects for Disney’s animation department. Kirschner, undeterred, took his pitch elsewhere—to none other than Kathleen Kennedy, Steven Spielberg’s production partner. Kennedy was intrigued and invited Kirschner to Spielberg’s annual Fourth of July party to pitch the idea directly to the famed director.
Spielberg immediately saw the potential in Kirschner’s idea, but instead of a TV special, he envisioned a full-length animated feature film. This project would eventually become An American Tail, a tribute of sorts to Spielberg’s own grandfather, Philip Posner, who emigrated from Russia to the United States in the late 19th century. The film’s lead character, Fievel, was even named after Spielberg’s grandfather, whose Yiddish name was also Fievel.
Disney’s Loss Becomes Universal’s Gain
An American Tail went on to become a major success for Universal Pictures, which hadn’t been involved in an animated feature since the release of Pinocchio in Outer Space in 1965. Meanwhile, over at Disney, Eisner and Wells weren’t exactly thrilled that Katzenberg had let such a promising project slip through his fingers.
Not wanting to miss out on any future opportunities with Kirschner, Katzenberg quickly scheduled another meeting with him to discuss any other ideas he might have. And as fate would have it, Kirschner had just written a short story for Muppet Magazine called Halloween House, about a boy who is magically transformed into a cat by a trio of witches.
The Pitch That Sealed the Deal
Knowing Katzenberg could be a tough sell, Kirschner went all out to impress during his pitch. He requested access to the Disney lot 30 minutes early to set the stage for his presentation. When Katzenberg and the Disney development team walked into the conference room, they were greeted by a table covered in candy corn, a cauldron of dry ice fog, and a broom, mop, and vacuum cleaner suspended from the ceiling as if they were flying—evoking the magical world of Halloween House.
Katzenberg was reportedly unimpressed by the theatrical setup, muttering, “Oy, show-and-tell time” as he took his seat. But Kirschner knew exactly how to grab his attention. He started his pitch with the fact that Halloween was a billion-dollar business—a figure that made Katzenberg sit up and take notice. He listened attentively to Kirschner’s pitch, and by the time the meeting was over, Katzenberg was convinced. Halloween House would become Hocus Pocus, and Disney had its next big Halloween film.
A Bit of Hollywood Drama
Interestingly, Kirschner’s success with Hocus Pocus didn’t sit well with his old collaborators. About a year after the film’s release, Kirschner ran into Kathleen Kennedy at an Amblin holiday party, and she wasted no time in expressing her disappointment. According to Kirschner, Kennedy said, “You really hurt Steven.” When Kirschner asked how, she explained that Spielberg and Kennedy had given him his big break with An American Tail, but when he came up with the idea for his next film, he brought it to Disney rather than to them.
Hollywood can be a place where loyalty is valued—or, at least, perceived loyalty. At the same time, this was happening just as Katzenberg was leaving Disney and partnering with Spielberg and David Geffen to launch DreamWorks SKG, which only added to the tension. Loyalty, as Kirschner found out, can be an abstract concept in the entertainment industry.
A Halloween Favorite is Born
Despite its rocky start at the box office in 1993, Hocus Pocus has gone on to become a beloved part of Halloween pop culture. And, as Carlin’s book details, its success helped pave the way for more Disney Halloween-themed projects in the years that followed.

As for why Hocus Pocus was released in July of 1993 instead of during Halloween? That’s a story for another time, but it has something to do with another Halloween-themed project Disney was working on that year—Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas—and Katzenberg finding himself in the awkward position of having to choose between keeping Bette Midler or Tim Burton happy.
For more behind-the-scenes stories about Hocus Pocus and other Disney films, be sure to check out Witches Run Amok by Shannon Carlin. It’s a fascinating read for any Disney fan!
And if you love hearing these kinds of behind-the-scenes stories about animation and film history, be sure to check out Fine Tooning with Drew Taylor, where Drew and I dive deep into all things movies, animation, and the creative decisions that shape the films we love. You can find us on your favorite podcast platforms or right here on limegreen-loris-912771.hostingersite.com.
Film & Movies
How Disney’s “Bambi” led to the creation of Smokey Bear

When people talk about Disney’s “Bambi,” the scene that they typically cite as being the one from this 1942 film which then scarred them for life is – of course – the moment in this movie where Bambi’s mother gets shot by hunters.
Which is kind of ironic. Given that – if you watch this animated feature today – you’ll see that a lot of this ruined-my-childhood scene actually happens off-camera. I mean, you hear the rifle shot that takes down Bambi’s Mom. But you don’t actually see that Mama Deer get clipped.
Now for the scariest part of that movie that you actually see on-camera … Hands down, that has to be the forest fire sequence in “Bambi.” As the grown-up Bambi & his bride, Faline, desperately race through those woods, trying to find a path to safety as literally everything around them is ablaze … That sequence is literally nightmare fuel.

Mind you, the artists at Walt Disney Animation Studios had lots of inspiration for the forest fire sequence in “Bambi.” You see, in a typical year, the United States experiences – due to either natural phenomenon like lightning strikes or human carelessness – 100 forest fires. Whereas in 1940 (i.e., the year that Disney Studios began working in earnest of a movie version of Felix Salten’s best-selling movie), America found itself battling a record 360 forest fires.
Which greatly concerned the U.S. Forest Service. But not for the reason you might think.
Protecting the Forest for World War II
I mean, yes. Sure. Officials over in the Agricultural Department (That’s the arm of the U.S. government that manages the Forest Service) were obviously concerned about the impact that this record number of forest fires in 1940 had had on citizens. Not to mention all of the wildlife habitat that was now lost.
But to be honest, what really concerned government officials was those hundreds of thousands of acres of raw timber that had been consumed by these blazes. You see, by 1940, the world was on the cusp of the next world war. A conflict that the U.S. would inevitably be pulled into. And all that now-lost timber? It could have been used to fuel the U.S. war machine.
So with this in mind (and U.S. government officials now seeing an urgent need to preserve & protect this precious resource) … Which is why – in 1942 (just a few months after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor) – the U.S. Forest Service rolls out its first-ever forest fire prevention program.
Which – given that this was the early days of World War II – the slogan that the U.S. Forest Service initially chose for its forest fire prevention program is very in that era’s we’re-all-in-this-together / so-let’s-do-what-we-can-to-help-America’s war-effort esthetic – made a direct appeal to all those folks who were taking part in scrap metal drives: “Forest Defense is National Defense.”

And the poster that the U.S. Forest Service had created to support this campaign? … Well, it was well-meaning as well. It was done in the WPA style and showed men out in the forest, wielding shovels to ditch a ditch. They were trying to construct a fire break, which would then supposedly slow the forest fire that was directly behind them.
But the downside was … That “Forest Defense is National Defense” slogan – along with that poster which the U.S. Forest Service had created to support their new forest fire prevention program didn’t exactly capture America’s attention.
I mean, it was the War Years after all. A lot was going in the country at that time. But long story short: the U.S. Forest Service’s first attempt at launching a successful forest fire prevention program sank without a trace.
So what do you do in a situation like this? You regroup. You try something different.
Disney & Bambi to the Rescue
And within the U.S. government, the thinking now was “Well, what if we got a celebrity to serve as the spokesman for our new forest fire prevention program? Maybe that would then grab the public’s attention.”
The only problem was … Well, again, these are the War Years. And a lot of that era’s A-listers (people like Jimmy Stewart, Clark Gable, even Mel Brooks) had already enlisted. So there weren’t really a lot of big-name celebrities to choose from.
But then some enterprising official at the U.S. Forest Service came up with an interesting idea. He supposedly said “Hey, have you seen that new Disney movie? You know, the one with the deer? That movie has a forest fire in it. Maybe we should go talk with Walt Disney? Maybe he has some ideas about how we can better capture the public’s attention when it comes to our new forest fire prevention program?”
And it turns Walt did have an idea. Which was to use this government initiative as a way to cross-promote Disney Studio’s latest full-length animated feature, “Bambi.” Which been first released to theaters in August of 1942.
So Walt had artists at Disney Studio work up a poster that featured the grown-up versions of Bambi the Deer, Thumper the Rabbit & Flower the Skunk. As this trio stood in some tall grasses, they looked imploring out at whoever was standing in front of this poster. Above them was a piece of text that read “Please Mister, Don’t Be Careless.” And below these three cartoon characters was an additional line that read “Prevent Forest Fires. Greater Danger Than Ever!”

According to folks I’ve spoken with at Disney’s Corporate Archives, this “Bambi” -based promotional campaign for the U.S. Forest Service’s forest fire prevention campaign was a huge success. So much so that – as 1943 drew to a close – this division of the Department of Agriculture reportedly reached out to Walt to see if he’d be willing to let the U.S. Forest Service continue to use these cartoon characters to help raise the public’s awareness of fire safety.
Walt – for reasons known only to Mr. Disney – declined. Some have suggested that — because “Bambi” had actually lost money during its initial theatrical release in North America – that Walt was now looking to put that project behind him. And if there were posters plastered all over the place that then used the “Bambi” characters that then promoted the U.S.’s forest fire prevention efforts … Well, it would then be far harder for Mr. Disney to put this particular animated feature in the rear view mirror.
Introducing Smokey Bear
Long story short: Walt said “No” when it came to reusing the “Bambi” characters to promote the U.S. Forest Service’s forest fire prevention program. But given how successful the previous cartoon-based promotional campaign had been … Well, some enterprising employee at the Department of Agriculture reportedly said “Why don’t we come up with a cartoon character of our own?”
So – for the Summer of 1944 – the U.S. Forest Service (with the help of the Ad Council and the National Association of State Foresters) came up with a character to help promote the prevention of forest fires. And his name is Smokey Bear.
Now a lot of thought had gone into Smokey’s creation. Right from the get-go, it was decided that he would be an American black bear (NOT a brown bear or a grizzly). To make this character seem approachable, Smokey was outfitted with a ranger’s hat. He also wore a pair of blue jeans & carried a bucket.
As for his debut poster, Smokey was depicted as pouring water over a still-smoldering campfire. And below this cartoon character was printed Smokey’s initial catchphrase. Which was “Care will prevent 9 out of 10 forest fires!”

Which makes me think that this slogan was written by the very advertising executive who wrote “Four out of five dentists recommend sugarless gum for their patients who chew gum.”
Anyway … By the Summer of 1947, Smokey got a brand-new slogan. The one that he uses even today. Which is “Only YOU can prevent forest fires.”
The Real Smokey Bear
Now where this gets interesting is – in the Summer of 1950 – there was a terrible forest fire up in the Capitan Mountains of New Mexico. And over the course of this blaze, a bear cub climbed high up into a tree to try & escape those flames.
Firefighters were finally able to rescue that cub. But he was so badly injured in that fire that he was shipped off to the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. and nursed back to health. And since this bear really couldn’t be released back in the wild at this point, he was then put on exhibit.
And what does this bear’s keepers decide to call him? You guessed it: Smokey.

And due to all the news coverage that this orphaned bear got, he eventually became the living symbol of the U.S. Forest Service’s forest fire prevention program. Which then meant that this particular Smokey Bear got hit with a ton of fan mail. So much so that the National Zoo in Washington D.C. wound up with its own Zip Code.
“Smokey the Bear” Hit Song
And on the heels of a really-for-real Smokey Bear taking up residence in our nation’s capital, Steve Nelson & Jack Rollins decide to write a song that shined a spotlight on this fire-fightin’ bruin. Here’s the opening stanza:
With a ranger’s hat and shovel and a pair of dungarees,
You will find him in the forest always sniffin’ at the breeze,
People stop and pay attention when he tells them to beware
Because everybody knows that he’s the fire-preventin’ bear
Believe or not, even with lyrics like these, “Smokey the Bear” briefly topped the Country charts in the Summer of 1950. Thanks to a version of this song that was recorded by Gene Autry, the Singing Cowboy.
By the way, it was this song that started all of the confusion in regards to Smokey Bear’s now. You see, Nelson & Rollins – because they need the lyrics of their song to scan properly – opted to call this fire-fightin’-bruin Smokey THE Bear. Rather than Smokey Bear. Which has been this cartoon character’s official name since the U.S. Forest Service first introduced him back in 1944.
“The Ballad of Smokey the Bear”
Further complicating this issue was “The Ballad of Smokey the Bear,” which was a stop-motion animated special that debuted on NBC in late November of 1966. Produced by Rankin-Bass as a follow-up to their hugely popular “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” (which premiered on the Peacock Network in December of 1964) … This hour-long TV show also put a “THE” in the middle of Smokey Bear’s name because the folks at Rankin-Bass thought his name sounded better that way.
And speaking of animation … Disney’s “Bambi” made a brief return to the promotional campaign for the U.S. Forest Service’s forest fire prevention program in the late 1980s. This was because the Company’s home entertainment division had decided to release this full-length animated feature on VHS.
What’s kind of interesting, though, is the language used on the “Bambi” poster is a wee different than the language that’s used on Smokey’s poster. It reads “Protect Our Forest Friends. Only You Can Prevent Wildfires.” NOT “Forest Fires.”
Anyway, that’s how Disney’s “Bambi” led to the creation of Smokey Bear. Thanks for bearin’ with me as I clawed my way through this grizzly tale.
-
Theme Parks & Themed Entertainment8 months ago
Disney’s Forgotten Halloween Event: The Original Little Monsters on Main Street
-
Theme Parks & Themed Entertainment8 months ago
The Story of Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party: From One Night to a Halloween Family Tradition
-
Film & Movies8 months ago
How “An American Tail” Led to Disney’s “Hocus Pocus”
-
Theme Parks & Themed Entertainment6 months ago
Disney and Macy’s 90-Year Thanksgiving Day Parade Partnership: From Mickey’s First Balloon to Minnie’s Big Debut
-
Television & Shows4 months ago
How the Creators of South Park Tricked A-List Celebrities to Roast Universal – “Your Studio & You”
-
History3 months ago
The Super Bowl & Disney: The Untold Story Behind ‘I’m Going to Disneyland!’
-
Podcast2 months ago
Epic Universal Podcast – Aztec Dancers, Mariachis, Tequila, and Ceremonial Sacrifices?! (Ep. 45)
-
Television & Shows4 weeks ago
The Untold Story of Super Soap Weekend at Disney-MGM Studios: How Daytime TV Took Over the Parks