“History,” President Kennedy said, “is the final judge of our deeds.”
When the conversation dies around the dinner tables in a thousand villages and towns, it is fascinating to bring up the subject of the current decade. What verdict will history have on our poor efforts in this confusing age? Will we be remembered as the generation in which man’s enlightenment was put into full harness for the good of humanity, or will we simply be remembered as inhabitants of the period in which God died? Will we be remembered as the forebears of a Great Society, or merely as the generation that shrank from its responsibility of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger?
The nineteen-sixties signaled the coming of a new age. The post-war period was over and man was reaching beyond his planet into the mysterious realms of space. There was a young president in Washington and government was fun, even entertaining. “They” (the enigmatic powers which do everything that ever gets done) gave a Nobel Peace Prize to Martin Luther King. A jolly old Pope in Rome was able to awaken a new interest in religion, and church leaders from all over the world congregated in the Eternal City in a humane effort to tidy up Christianity so God would not be able to see the mess from His death bed. On a couple of occasions, “they” steered the national course so close to the brink of nuclear war (just to see what would happen), but nobody worried about it much. “After all,” Bob Hope said, “we had a president who was young enough to get drafted.” It was an age, indeed, when the world hearkened to a noble cry to “get moving again,” and Americans watched with approval and did all they could do, short of actually getting involved.
As in all ages, the nineteen-sixties awakened in American hearts the desire to crown a national hero who would symbolize with breath-taking simplicity the frustrating complexities of the age. President Kennedy was the foremost candidate in many hearts, but he was found to be the antithesis rather than the symbol of the decade. He was young and handsome, stylish and cultured, intelligent and forceful, rich and established, and eternally victorious – a perfect composite, in fact, of all the virtues the generation lacked. But while Americans were loving President Kennedy for being everything they could not be, the true hero of the sixties was reaching maturity in a world of newsprint and India ink. His name was Charlie Brown.
Charlie Brown was born at the tip of a pen wielded by cartoonist Charlie Schultz. By Schultz’s own description, Charlie Brown is the neurotic product of society. Charlie Brown is a “nobody,” and by virtue of that very act he becomes everybody. In an age when heroes are idolized, Charlie Brown has become the classic anti-hero. A Schultz cartoon finds two of Charlie Brown’s young friends discussing a recent episode in his life. “I’ve got to hand it to Charlie Brown,” says one. “He was being chased by five fourth graders on the playground today. Suddenly he stopped running and organized a discussion group.”
In an age demanding decisiveness and singleness of purpose, Charlie Brown is wishy-washy. His great ambition in life is to meet and talk with the little red-haired girl who sits across the playground from him during the school lunch hour. A hundred times he decides to “just get right up” and talk with her. A hundred times he fails to leave the security of the bench. When the little red-haired girl walks within whispering distance of Charlie Brown he summons great moral courage and ties his peanut butter sandwich into a knot.
In an age in which victors are acclaimed by the multitudes, Charlie Brown is the eternal loser. With admirable persistence he struggles to get his kite into the air – to send it skyward, free as a bird, in the pursuit of its own destinies. A faithful reader of Schultz, however, well knows that the kite is doomed to end its journey in the merciless branches of the nearest “kite-eating” tree. One is convinced that if Charlie Brown were to attempt to fly his kite in the most barren of deserts, the kite would shortly find its way to the only tree for miles around.
In an age in which one must be charismatic and popular in order to gain approval, Charlie Brown must walk a lonely road, unliked and unwanted. If, on Valentine’s Day, his mailbox were to overflow with Valentine cards, every card would be addressed not to him, but to his faithful dog, Snoopy. Society requires much strength, and Charlie Brown is weak. He fails to adjust.
Why does America love Charlie Brown? Why does America identify with him? An indication of his appeal may lie in the fact that although America idolizes a victor, she fosters a greater admiration for the loser. America’s great folk heroes are not the unbeatable General Grants, but the General Custers who demonstrate great talent for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. President Kennedy noticed that his popularity in the polls rose sharply immediately after his admission of responsibility for the Bay of Pigs disaster. “My God,” he exclaimed, “It’s as bad as Eisenhower! The worse I do, he more popular I get!”
The average reader of Schultz cartoons can also find in Charlie Brown’s poor endeavors a reminder of his own childhood. Charlie Brown’s failure to meet and talk with the little red-haired girl reminds the reader of his own personal dreams that were never fulfilled. Charlie Brown is the embodiment of the great times that never were.
Every man who roots for Charlie Brown roots for himself. Because he is not a “winner,” he demonstrates most poignantly the inborn desire of all men to win. Because he is unpopular, he is a vivid example of man’s need to be popular. Those who love Charlie Brown love him not for what he is, but for what he could be. Those who can identify with his inability to adjust to society are confident that in the end – somewhere, somehow – Charlie Brown will eventually “make it.” In some glorious future, Charlie Brown will get his kite high in the air. Someday Charlie Brown will meet and talk with and (who knows?) eventually marry the little red-haired girl. And someday Charlie Brown’s mailbox will overflow with greeting cards from all his many fans.
When that day comes, Charlie Brown’s appeal to the people will be over. When Charlie Brown finally “makes it” (as we all know he will), he will join the ranks of Flash Gordon and Barney Google and Smilin’ Jack and all the other forgotten heroes of yesterday’s comics. In the meantime, Charlie Brown’s special appeal lies in the fact that there is nothing so admired or so closely followed in today’s society than the detailed, blow-by-blow account of the Great All-American Failure Story.
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