The desire, for some people, is very strong. The need to record one’s life in words can be undertaken for any number of very human reasons. Perhaps we want our descendants to know who we were. Maybe we have a message that we’re trying to give to a world reluctant to listen. Some may just want to brag. Now I have to confess that, like most kids of my vintage, Hanna-Barbera cartoons were standard fare in my childhood. I personally preferred those of Warner Bros., but like a typical addict, any fix will do. I watched The Flintstones, The Jetsons, but preferred Scooby-Doo and Johnny Quest. They all had Hanna-Barbera in common. Bill Hanna published his autobiography, A Cast of Friends, in 1996 and I was curious. I located a used copy and realized something right off—here was a guy who had a knack for leaving out the best parts of the story. Perhaps it was a cartoonist’s desire to look for the fun?
We generally read autobiographies to learn about the struggles faced, the odds stacked against someone that they somehow overcame. Often with lingering trauma. To hear Bill Hanna tell it, his was a bland life with a stable upbringing, good career breaks, and commercial success that led to wealthy old age. Throughout the narrative there are hints that more was going on behind the scenes, but the carefully controlled image of the Boy Scout who ended up accomplishing much with few obstacles to face prevails. Image control is also, I suppose, a major reason for indulging in autobiography. Getting the job you want with minimal drama, however, makes me think there’s something more to why this autobiography was written. That said, I learned quite a bit about the early animation business—my reason for reading it in the first place.
Before my mother’s death, I had urged her to write her life story. There was plenty of drama there, and a strong desire to keep going, for her kids. Her father, her personal hero and therefore one of mine also, led an interesting life that he summarized in about four pages for his children. Apart from one or two words I can’t make out in his handwriting, I devoured it with fascination. He pointed out the oddities, the unexpected things. Elements that make for an interesting life. I got the sense from this brief book that more was left unsaid than was being revealed. Of course, some personality types tend to remember only the positive. And I suppose that’s cause for rejoicing. Some of the rest of us, however, wonder about what’s beneath the surface. Unless someone records it, however, we’ll never know.
