Part V
Chapter Ten
As the summer of 1917 came to a close, Walter’s time as a news butcher on the Missouri Pacific came to an end. Packing up his things and leaving Herbert and his family at the Bellefontaine house, he returned to Chicago where Elias, Flora and Ruth were living on Ogden Avenue.
With the autumn term soon beginning, Walter was enrolled as a student at McKinley High School. The 16-year-old quickly found a niche in the life of the school, becoming a regular contributor as an artist for the school newspaper, The McKinley Voice. Many of his cartoons featured commentary on current events, including those with propaganda messages relating to the war raging across the Atlantic. One cartoon reportedly challenged young men in the school by asking them if they would spend their summer holiday working or fighting as a part of the United States armed forces. The cartoons that he drew also had a personal purpose: shortly before Walter moved back to Chicago, his brother Roy and Edna Francis’s younger brother Mitch felt a surge of patriotism and decided to enlist in the United States Navy. Roy and Mitch were sworn in together on 22 June 1917 and immediately sent to the Great Lakes Naval Station, approximately 60 kilometres from the Disney home in Chicago. Raymond Disney, another of Walter’s older brothers, had enlisted as well, but in the Army instead of the Navy. Creating propagandistic political cartoons for The McKinley Voice was Walter’s way of supporting his brothers who were fighting overseas, as well as doing his part supporting the war effort because he was too young to enlist.
In addition to attending McKinley High as a student, Walter filled his time with hobbies and work. At this point, he wasn’t planning to become an illustrator, but he knew he loved art. In order to pursue illustration at night school, the young creative persuaded his strict father that it was merely a hobby and not a possible career. Elias allowed Walter to enrol in night classes at the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts where he studied under Chicago Tribune cartoonist Carey Orr. The budding artist idolised Orr, who satirised daily news stories and current events in his strip, The Tiny Trib. Orr’s enthusiastic student would later create a similar segment in his school newspaper which he called The Tiny Voice. Unfortunately, Walter found that the classes and styles taught at the Academy didn’t necessarily align with his talents: while many of the courses taught the intricacies of producing still lifes and realistic drawings of people, the aspiring cartoonist realised that his real passion was for humorous caricature. By early 1918, Walter stopped attending the night classes at the art school, and instead poured himself into his work on The McKinley Voice.
Art and drawing quickly became all-consuming for the young Walter Disney. His education began to suffer as he spent precious class time drawing instead of attending to his studies. Instead of socialising like a ‘normal’ teenager, Walter would attend school social events for artistic inspiration: perched on a chair along the wall, he would watch the other children mingle and sketch their actions or even occasionally draw trick images to impress his friends and acquaintances.
Despairing that he was too young to enlist like his brothers, the young patriot decided to help his city and country by contributing to the workforce. Shortly after moving back to Chicago, he begrudgingly took work at O-Zell performing odd jobs. Specifically working in the jelly production facilities, he spent time washing out jelly jars, mashing up apples to produce the gelatinous pectin that made jellies thick, capping the jars once they were full, and nailing up boxes for shipment. On one occasion, he was even asked to perform as nightwatchman when the regular security guard called in sick. Recognising that the factory was located in an area of town where crime was abundant and not far from the railroad tracks from which immoral or dangerous vagabonds could wander, Walter was extra vigilant. It certainly didn’t help his paranoia when, upon arriving for duty, the manager of the factory handed him a .38 calibre handgun to serve as protection and enforcement. That evening, while on his rounds, Walter kept all the lights on in the factory; he convinced himself it was so that anyone who might potentially try to steal from the factory would think twice when they saw the pistol the skinny, young nightwatchman was carrying.
Walter was lucky enough to live in a city with what seemed to be an overabundance of trains, further feeding his passion. Luckily for him, he was able to secure additional employment working at the elevated train line station located at Wilson Avenue for days when work was lacking at O-Zell. After getting out of school for the day, he would head to the station, don a cap and badge identifying him as a railway employee, and help to load and unload passengers from the elevated train. Manually opening and closing the doors of the train, Walter worked in a team with his fellow gatemen. Starting at the rear of the train, the first gateman would ring his bell, signalling that all passengers were on the train and that his doors were closed. This would prompt the succeeding gatemen to ring their bells, carriage by carriage, until the sound of the bells reached the front of the train, letting the conductor and engineer know that the train was ready to pull out from the station. On one occasion, Walter, situated in the middle of the train platform, gave the signal too early; luckily, his mistake didn’t mess up the rest of the process and cause the train to take off before all passengers were secure.
None of these jobs, nor school, seemed to satisfy Walter, however. The war hysteria that swept the United States during the summer of 1917 pulled on his conscience. America officially became an aggressor in the First World War on 6 April 1917, after numerous offences perpetuated by Germany; the biggest was the resumption of Germany’s unrestricted submarine warfare on ‘neutral’ American merchant vessels, which was a reversal of a German promise not to fire on those not considered belligerents. The United States and its citizens activated the domestic war machine, churning out propaganda: even Walter Disney drew propaganda cartoons for his Tiny Voice column in McKinley’s school newspaper.
As one of America’s largest cities, Chicago became a major hub of American patriotism and war fervour. During the summer and early autumn of 1917, the streets of the city seemed to be perpetually filled with war parades consisting of great columns of soldiers from the Great Lakes Naval Station, brass bands, contingents of American Red Cross workers, and floats covered in beautiful girls catcalling the young men watching them drift by.
One afternoon, while Walter stared up at the beauties perched on a patriotic float, one of them called out to the crowd, “Why don’t you join up? What’s the matter with you? Are you a slacker or something? Enlist! I dare you!” The young man shuddered as he felt goose bumps break out all over his body. The girls were talking to him. Why didn’t he join? Both Roy and older brother Raymond had enlisted and were fighting for freedom. Wasn’t it his duty to serve democracy as well?
The problem was that he was only 16, too young to join any branch of the United States military.
One afternoon in the early autumn, the Disneys received word that Roy was transferring to Chicago’s Great Lakes Naval Station and would be passing through the city on his way north. It was rare to hear from Walter’s older brother: Elias had been so bitter at his son’s betrayal in Kansas City, as well as his choice to enlist in the armed forces, that he had immediately thrown every unopened letter from Roy into the stove.
When it was time to meet up with Roy, Walter went to the train station alone to greet his brother. One of the first things he noticed was how swell and grown up his brother looked in his Navy uniform. It was only a few minutes that the two had to chat, sitting together on a bench along the train platform. Other soldiers milled around, either mingling with each other or talking to their own friends and family. When it was time for the troops to move out, an officer barked out to the troops, “Fall in!” The two brothers stood up and embraced, offering each other well wishes. Roy picked up his things and began to move towards the column of troops. Noticing Walter standing near the bench, watching his brother walk away, the officer marched over to him, believing him to be one of the enlisted men. “Come on! Didn’t you hear me? Fall in!” Walter apologised, explaining that he wasn’t a soldier and was just there visiting his brother. The officer acknowledged Walter, spun on his heel, and walked back to his waiting troops.
As Walter Disney walked out of the train station that afternoon, back into the sun of an early autumn day in Chicago, he realised something: while he had been busy working numerous jobs and was preparing for an autumn term at McKinley High, none of these were fulfilling. If he truly believed in what America stood for, he should enlist and be a part of this great war happening in Europe, no matter what.