Floyd Gottfredson’s office, which could more appropriately be called a cubbyhole, lies on the second floor of a stucco building which in the early days was part of the Disney Studio at Hyperion Avenue in East Hollywood, and which Walt took with him when the Studio moved from Hollywood to Burbank in the late 1930s. A drawing board, a side table or two, and a couple of chairs complete the Spartan furnishings. Several model sheets for Mickey are tacked on the wall. Clearly this is an office designed for work, not for impressing visitors. The man who with a friendly smile rose to shake my hand had just moments before been deeply engrossed in a half-completed comic panel. Harried though he may have been, he handled my intrusion as a welcome respite.
He did regard me, however, as somewhat of a curiosity. Apparently, as with so many artists, the fact that others regard his work with importance is news to him. As the questions and answers progressed, it became distressingly plain that he did not equate his work with the discovery of fire or the invention of the Ouija board. Still, he was impressed that someone with a command of polysyllabic words should show such interest in his work, and as his recall proved generally excellent, he warmed to the subject with a show of enthusiasm.
The best place to begin is always at the beginning, so I asked Mr. Gottfredson whose idea it was to begin a Mickey Mouse newspaper strip. He leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his head, and began.
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