The incarnation of Mickey Mouse in 1928's Steamboat Willie. Photo: LMPC
It has been suggested that Mickey Mouse was along with the Coca-Cola label and the swastika, once the most recognizable symbol in the world. The indefatigable rodent made his first screen appearance in the 1928 animated short film Steamboat Willie, which, thanks to a quirk of copyright law, enters the public domain on January 1, 2024. However, good luck to those who now believe that they will be able to benefit from the Mickey character.
Those of us who enjoy a multibillion-dollar company that can continue to make money from its most popular character will no doubt breathe a sigh of relief at this news. However, the release of Steamboat Willie into the public domain should bring attention to one of the great unsung figures of 20th century animation. Ubbe «Ub» Iwerks not only worked with Disney in the early days of his empire, but was also responsible for creating the character of Mickey Mouse.
Although he wasn't completely erased from history, Iwerks' much lower status compared to his colleague and employer shows just how cruel a myth-maker Disney truly was. The story we are left with is a sanitized (even Disney-esque) version of what actually happened.
Iwerks, the son of an itinerant Dutch barber whom he hated (on hearing of his father's death he sneered, «Throw him in the ditch»), first met Disney when both men were teenagers and worked for the Kansas City-based Dogman Company. Art studio Rubin. Already now you can discern the main differences in their personalities. Iwerks was an extremely talented workaholic who could complete two months' work in two weeks if necessary, illustrating hundreds of animation cells by hand overnight. Disney, although an accomplished animator himself, excelled at the corporate side of the business.
The two collaborated throughout the 1920s, with Disney being their senior partner. But by the time they moved to Los Angeles in 1923, their careers hit a snag when the first cartoon character they created together, Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, was taken away from them by Universal Studios, the production company that owned the rights to it. . An angry Disney vowed to not only retain all rights to the characters he was responsible for, but also to come up with a figure who would be significantly more successful—and iconic—than Oswald had ever been.
The story of how Mickey Mouse was created was one Disney often liked to tell later in life, in simple, exaggerated detail. He either claimed that the idea for the anthropomorphic mouse came to him during a long train journey from New York to California, or that he was inspired by a pet he kept during his time in Kansas City. Both, or neither, could be true.
Mickey Mouse co-creator Ub Iwerks Photo: Mary Evans Image Library
But what is undeniable is that Iwerks came to Disney's rescue when he was left without a character he could monetize, and that between the two of them they came up with a figure originally called Mortimer Mouse. That is until Disney's wife Lillian, who didn't like what she considered to be a pompous name, suggested changing Mortimer to Mickey.
There is no doubt that Disney invested heavily in this character, not least because he voiced him for many years and was responsible for Mickey's personality quirks, which largely led to him becoming such a beloved character, which he remains to this day. . However, the rush to claim credit meant that Disney, whether by accident or design, sidelined Iwerks' work in creating the iconic Mickey Mouse design.
For a long time, Disney took ownership of the character, and today the accepted party line is that, in the words of one Disney employee, «Ub designed Mickey's look, but Walt gave him his soul.» However, this is inaccurate. As Iwerks biographer Jeff Ryan commented: “[Iwerks] was the man who did most of the behind-the-scenes work. And when Walt took out the loan, it was Ubu who was denied the loan. Walt, because he was never satisfied with anything, kept coming up with bigger and bigger monsters to stretch out the story of Mickey Mouse's creation. And the biggest surprise at first was that Walt did it. He didn't do it.»
1935 Sinbad short film animated by Ub Iwerks. Photo: Alami
The reasons for this are more complex than they might seem, and as Ryan suggested, «When you get Walt and Ub together, they can do almost anything.» However, Iwerks quickly grew tired of Disney's showmanship and being treated like a junior partner. Their working relationship ended in 1930 when—apocryphally—Disney, asked at a party by a young fan to draw a sketch of Mickey Mouse, simply handed the paper and pen to Iwerks and said, “Draw.” Listen as an enraged Iwerks storms out of the party and opens his own animation studio, Iwerks Studio. (He was paid less than $3,000 for a 20 percent stake in a company that would be worth billions today.)
In an ideal world, it would compete with, and perhaps even supplant, Disney. But Disney knew how important it was to hire talented people, and so he surrounded himself with capable young animators. (Although Iwerks was responsible for the discovery of Chuck Jones, the man who later created the Looney Tunes cartoons.) Iwerks struggled to make it on his own terms throughout the 1930s, and in 1940 he returned to Disney. Only this time he wasn't an animator, but a visual effects supervisor: an acknowledgment that the only way the two men could rekindle the working relationship was if Iwerks did something new and different from his previous endeavors.
1930 Mickey Mouse short «Plane Crazy,» animated by Ub Iwerks Photo: Alamy
Over the next 25 years, Iwerks worked tirelessly and productively at many Disney ventures. He was a pioneer in the integration of live action and animation on screen, which he first attempted in the much-maligned 1946 musical drama Song of the South and then, much more prominently and successfully, he perfected in Disney's landmark success Mary Poppins.
He also worked on Disney theme park attractions, creating shows such as «Hall of Presidents» and «It's a Small World.» Showcasing his virtuosity, he departed from Disney to design the terrifying-looking special effects for Hitchcock's The Birds, for which he was nominated for an Oscar — having already received a special Oscar in 1960 for his «development of an improved optical printing printer.» . special effects and matte shots.”
Animation genius, special effects pioneer, theme park visionary: Ub Iwerks should rightfully be remembered as well as Disney, Jones, or any other leading figure in 20th-century entertainment. That he is not may be due to Disney's desire to deprive him of recognition for his achievements (although he was named a Disney Legend in 1989, following his death in 1971), but also due to his anxiety.
He loved to take a car apart and put it back together over a weekend, and was known to build cameras from parts he found in his garage. He took up archery, but gave up because he got tired of hitting the bull's eye over and over again. And as Ryan said of Iwerks, “There’s a famous story in animation circles about Ub Iwerks’ short-lived love affair with bowling. He got better and better and better until one day he threw 13 strikes in a row. And once he did that, he was like, “OK, I got my bowling figured out.” And he never bowled again.» (Much the same can be said of his first career at Disney, in which he excelled at both innovation and fashion animation before leaving his unbroken record of strikes and never returning.
Iwerks' treatment may be a largely forgotten incident at the House of Mouse, but it remains common knowledge in popular culture circles. The 1996 Simpsons episode «The Day the Violence Died» revolves around homeless man Chester J. Lampwick, voiced by none other than Kirk Douglas, who tells Bart that he is responsible for creating the mouse character Itchy from the TV series Itchy and Scratchy. Roger Meyers Sr. forced him out and withheld his royalties, which was a not-so-subtle dig at Disney, right down to a joke about him being cryogenically frozen. Lampwick ultimately prevails, receiving an $800 billion settlement, which leads to the bankruptcy of Meyers' son and the demise of Itchy and Scratchy.
The episode's most telling moment, however, comes when Meyers declares in court that «The animation is plagiarized! If someone hadn't plagiarized The Honeymooners, we wouldn't have The Flintstones. If someone hadn't robbed Sergeant Bilko, there would be no Top Cat.» And, as the episode might have added, if there was no Ub Iwerks, there would be no Mickey Mouse and probably no Disney empire as we know it today. So if the release of Steamboat Willie into the public domain results in Iwerks' name being better remembered, that can only be a good thing.
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