Film & Movies
The Real Fat Albert
Animation industry vet (and JHM fan favorite) Floyd Norman returns with a fun new column that takes a behind-the-scenes look at Bill Cosby's first animated cartoon studio.

A few weeks from now movie audiences will be treated to a big screen version of Bill Cosby’s comedy creation, “Fat Albert.” Actually, this movie should really be titled, “Slightly Over Weight Albert” because the star of the movie can hardly be called fat. In any event, the lead character is based on Bill Cosby’s childhood stories about growing up in Philadelphia in the fifties. Fat Albert was always a favorite in Bill Cosby’s famous comedy routines, and that led to an animated television special, to a TV series and finally a live-action feature film. Where do I fit into all this, you ask? Well, I was there at the beginning.
After the untimely death of Walt Disney in 1966, I left the Disney studio to begin a new venture along with my partner, Leo Sullivan. Like all young and eager entrepreneurs we were ready to take on anything. Somehow, Leo had gotten word that Bill Cosby was interested in taking his Fat Albert comedy routine into cartoon animation. We knew that if we were to be taken seriously we would have to have more than talk when it came to meeting Mr. Cosby. So, the two of us took one of Cosby’s routines from an LP (remember those?) entitled, “Wonderfulness,” and animated the routine using Cosby’s voice as the soundtrack. Having completed our little film, we began the search for Bill Cosby.
To be honest, we knew nothing about tracking down a star of Cosby’s stature. Still, we were persistent, and eventually the trail led to a building in Beverly Hills, and the offices of Campbell-Silver-Cosby. After securing an appointment, we met with a producer named Marvin Miller. Miller seemed impressed by our animated pitch, but told us Bill Cosby had already spoken to another animator who wanted to be part of the deal. As a matter of fact this animator had so impressed Cosby that Bill wanted him to direct the “Fat Albert” television special. Much to our surprise, the animator turned out to be a guy we both knew. His name was Ken Mundie.
Ken Mundie had always seemed an unusual choice by many in the animation business. Ken was unconventional in many ways. Not just an animator, he was a fine artist, and a ski bum who often jetted off to Europe on many a skiing jaunt. Ken was probably best known for his main title designs for motion pictures. He also designed and directed the main titles for the TV series, “I Spy,” which starred Cosby and Robert Culp. Ken hated the mainstream studio system, and felt artists should drive the creative process, not businessmen or studio managers. He had bounced from studio to studio because his unconventional ideas were not always welcomed. Now, here he was in charge of a major television animated special, with the blessing of one of America’s biggest entertainers. Things were about to get interesting.
Cosby’s partners, Bruce Campbell and Roy Silver found office space for the “Fat Albert” animation team on Melrose Avenue in West Los Angeles. Oddly enough, the studio was owned by producer, Dick Brown who had produced the “Clutch Cargo” TV series. Anybody remember that weird show with the animated drawings and live-action mouths? Anyway, this facility became our home for the duration of the production. One of the first things Ken Mundie ordered was an Oxberry Camera System. Ken was insistent in doing all the production in house. Nothing, not even photography was to be jobbed out. Ken was intent on breaking the so-called animation rules. This was going to be a film where the artists did everything — and I do mean everything. The art team would develop the story, sketch out the layouts, paint the backgrounds, animate the characters, and finally ink and paint the cels. Talk about breaking the rules. Ken Mundie was just getting started.
Let me introduce you to the animation team. The team that would create one of the most unusual animated specials ever produced for television. First off, there was director, Ken Mundie and production manager, Ray Thursby. The artists, in no particular order were, Richard Drew, Amby Paliwoda, Bill Hadji, Leo Sullivan, Lil Evans and Bob Bachman. Late in the production, Jackie Banks joined the crew as a cel painter. I painted cels on the production myself even though I was not an official member of the crew. I was working as a writer on another TV series for ABC called, “Turn On,” but that’s another story.
My pal, Leo Sullivan was the only black animator on the crew, and following Bill Cosby’s instructions, Leo proceeded to teach the “white dudes” about “The black experience.” How should the characters walk and talk? What makes a person hip or cool, and is there a difference? I confess it was fun watching my friend, long time Disney animator, Amby Paliwoda who was probably in his sixties at the time, trying to get the “groove” into his animation. For an “old white dude,” Amby did a pretty darn good job.
When the studio opened its doors on quiet Monday morning, the crew was surprised to find coffee and fresh pastries from a Beverly Hills bakery waiting for them. With the artists being pampered from day one, it was clear the Campbell-Silver-Cosby office knew little about the animation business. Yet, there’s something missing from this whole scenario. What about the creator of Fat Albert? Where was Bill Cosby in all of this? Well, to be fair Bill Cosby had his hands full back in the sixties. He was busy performing live, doing recordings, and had just begun production on his new television show over at Warner Bros. studio where he played a high school coach. Cosby pretty much turned responsibility for the special over to his partners, along with input from writer, Jack Mendelsohn. As I said, Ken Mundie’s concept of animation production was unconventional. The artists animated on sheets of acetate with China markers. The stacks of acetate were painted on the opposite side, as is normal in conventional animation, and then photographed on the Oxberry Camera with live-action footage being projected up through the bottom of the camera’s platen. Thus, animation and live-action was being composited during photography. No expensive opticals were required.
The unique little production continued on track with Ken Mundie and his creative team cranking out a ton of drawings. One of the things Ken was determined to prove was that animation could be developed and produced with a small team of artists. There was no need for a huge animation factory where lackluster shows are stamped out like widgets. Animation was an art form, right? Why handle art like an assembly line product? Still, it was hard work and the crew put in many late- nighters and weekends. Yet, tough as it was, the crew was energized and inspired. They were doing something that had not be done before — and as we have come to see, never would again.
“Hey! Hey! Hey! Its Fat Albert” premiered on NBC in the summer of 1969. Those who saw this unique animated film still talk about it even today. The energetic sketchy animation playing over live-action footage was unique all by itself. The film had a European sensibility, and like it or not, reflected the vision of its director, Ken Mundie. Jazz master, Herbie Hancock, provided the film score. If you’ve never heard the Fat Albert main theme, you’ve missed some truly great jazz. This television special eventually led to an animated series produced by Filmmation in the seventies called “Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids.” More people probably remember this rather mundane TV series than the Campbell-Silver-Cosby produced Special. More often than not, this lackluster factory made product sticks in people’s minds more than the animated masterpiece that has probably been forgotten. Yet, the story doesn’t end here. Bill Cosby’s little animation team actually made another film that’s never been seen. Plus, there are more funny stories surrounding the little creative group that haven’t been told, such as Mrs. Cosby kicking the artists out of her Beverly Hills home. In animation, it seems, the fun never ends.
So, if you happen to catch “Fat Albert,” or at least the slightly overweight Albert at your local movie house this December, look for some great title animation done by a new generation of talented young animators, led by my pal, Bert Klein. I worry the current “truckload” of CGI animated feature films bodes ill for the future of traditional animation. Eventually, this wonderful art form will be lost because there will be no one left who remembers how to do it. These kids are my hope for animations’ future and the future of hand drawn cartoons in particular. It’s guys like this that make me want to stand up and shout, Hey! Hey! Hey!
Did you enjoy Floyd’s column today? well, if so, please be aware that there are already two great collections of Norman’s writings & cartoons on the market: his original collection of cartoons and stories — “Faster! Cheaper! The Flip Side of the Art of Animation” (which is available for sale over at John Cawley’s excellent www.cataroo.com web site) as well as the follow-up to that book, “Son of Faster, Cheaper.” Which you can purchase by clicking on that the image on to the right, which will take you straight over to Afrokids.com.
If you’re an animation fan and don’t already own either of these two great books, NOW would be a really good time to get them! | ![]() |
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 Entertainment9 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)
-
Film & Movies3 days ago
Before He Was 626: The Surprisingly Dark Origins of Disney’s Stitch