Eight years ago this week, an unsuspecting audience sat in New York City's Colony Theater viewing a movie romance entitled "Lonesome," starring Barbara Kent and Glenn Tryon. As a filler, the management ran in a short animated cartoon bearing the title "Steamboat Willie." It introduced a shrill, capering India ink character billed as Mickey Mouse. The audience expressed restrained approval, unaware that it was witnessing the beginning of a success story unparalleled in Hollywood history.
The date was September 28, 1928. This week, Mickey Mouse celebrates his eighth birthday, friskily aware that he played to 468,000,000 paid admissions last year, that the League of Nations has pinned a medal on his chest, that his ubiquitous likeness penetrates the great American home on cereal boxes, chinaware, toys, candy, jewelry, baby pants, belts and a thousand other items. Through it all, Mickey Mouse has kept his head, remained a fantastic, unpretentious, squeaking personality with a heart of gold. His creator, Walt Disney, has seen to that.[…]
