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Y KIRTLEY BASKETTE
rWENTY-FIVE years ago in Kansas City, Missouri, a small boy sat enchanted in a theater and watched a fantastic little play, hen he left, his head whirled with the magic id romance of what he thought was surely the ost wonderful story in the world. That is how "Snow White and the Seven warfs" really began. Because that was the ime of the fantastic little play the boy saw. tid the name of the boy was Walt Disney. For a score and more years, far back in his *ain those same visions whirled and survived, le impression never vanished, though the boy "ew up. And as he grew to be one of the •eatest artists in the world, the insistent mem"ies of childhood rapture demanded to be anslated into his particular art. They grew ito a dream. ■
Three and a half years ago, Walt Disney arted to make his dream come true. In those
three and a half years he spent $1,500,000 to bring "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" to the screen in exquisite color symphony. He employed 569 people who worked all day and frequently all night to finish it. He spent $70,000 developing a brand new camera to give it depth. He concocted 1500 different paints to give it unmatched color, and used enough to paint twenty-two five-room bungalows. He threw away four times the drawings he made and the film he shot. He made over 2,000,000 separate paintings that, placed end to end, would reach from New York to Pittsburgh. He used pencils that, stacked point to point, would tower above Mount Everest.
He tested hundreds of people for faceless voices on the screen. He maintained a studio menagerie so that he might study animals within reach of pencil and paper. He spent months searching for new sound effects. He developed brand new techniques in music, drawing, animation and color photography.
And all this work, this experimentation, for one hour and twenty minutes on the screen.
The story of the making of "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" can be told now. The film is finished, and it is delighting the world. It has pried open an impressive crack in the door that leads to the screen's ultimate promise. It was worth the time, the work, the worry, the courage, the tedious experimentation, the money. And the risk.
For at first Walt Disney received scant encouragement from his seasoned helpers when he casually introduced the idea of making "Snow White." It was a new departure for animated cartoons. It had human beings that had to be convincing. It was feature-length, and two reels was the limit for screen animations. It had death in it. It had horrifying scenes that might frighten children. Its expense was appalling. If it flopped, Disney's career might well be wrecked.
But in the wonderful way Walt Disney has of
transmitting enthusiasm to his co-workers he
"sold" the idea around his own studio. That
was all that was necessary. When Disney's
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