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An icy January blast tore at my coat as I hurried on my way to work. I noticed that the Christmas street decorations had been taken down, and in a way I was relieved. My wife was suffering from a long illness and I didn’t feel very festive.

I was glad to get inside the foyer of the Montgomery Ward building. In the elevator I leaned back and listened to the younger men eagerly discuss their work.

“And how are you starting the new year?” I glumly asked myself. Here I was, heavily in debt at age 35, still grinding out catalogue copy. Instead of writing the great American novel, as I’d once hoped, I was describing men’s white shirts. It seemed I’d always been a loser.

In the copy department a secretary called. “Bob, the boss wants to see you.”

What now? I wondered.


No, I didn't write that. The above was written by a person who's touched your life. You know who he is, even though you may never have even heard his name. Read on:


Our department head stood at the window in his office. “Bob,” he barked, “I’ve got an idea. For years our stores have been buying those little Christmas giveaway coloring books from local peddlers. I think we can save a lot of money if we create one ourselves. Could you come up with a better booklet we could use?”

I started to answer but he kept right on talking. “I think it should be an animal story, with a main character like Ferdinand the Bull.”

Finally I said I’d try.

That night, I wondered about what kind of animal it should be. Christmas. Santa. Reindeer? Of course; it must be a reindeer – Barbara, my four-year-old daughter, loved the deer down at the zoo.


The creative process at work.


But what could a little reindeer teach children?

Suppose he were an underdog – a loser, yet triumphant in the end. But what kind of underdog?

Certainly a reindeer’s dream would be to pull Santa’s sleigh.

Outside, the fog swirled in from Lake Michigan, dimming the street lights. Light. Something to help Santa find his way on a night like this.

Suddenly I had it! A nose! A bright red nose that would shine through fog like a floodlight.


Aha!


The next morning I enthusiastically presented my idea to the boss. “For gosh sakes, Bob, can’t you do better than that?”

I retreated to my desk and sat staring at the wall. I had faith in the reindeer I had by now named Rudolph. But how could I convince the boss? I prayed for inspiration.

An idea struck me. A bold, audacious idea. I walked over to the art department, where my friend Denver Gillen worked. “Denver, could you draw a deer with a big red nose and make him look appealing?”

He looked at me quizzically and I explained my idea. The following Saturday morning, Barbara, Denver and I met at the deer corral at Chicago’s Lincoln Park Zoo. As he sketched, I held Barbara up so she could better see those gentle creatures.


Sometimes even great ideas don't work just because you want them to. Sometimes, a miracle needs a hand...


By afternoon we felt we had something.

On Monday morning we brought the sketches into the boss’s office. He studied them for a long time. “Bob,” he said softly, “forget what I said and put the story into finished form.”

I started writing:

“Twas the day before Christmas and all through the hills – The reindeer were playing . . . enjoying the spills . . .”

Spring slipped into summer. My wife’s parents came to stay with us to help. Suddenly her condition grew worse. Then in July she was gone.

At the office the boss put his hand on my shoulder. “Bob,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. “I can understand your not wanting to go on with the kids’ book. Give me what you’ve got and I’ll let someone else finish it.”

But I needed Rudolph now more than ever. Gratefully I buried myself in the writing. Finally, in late August, it was done. I called Barbara and her grandparents into the living room and read it to them.

In their eyes I could see that the story accomplished what I had hoped.

Today children all over the world read and hear about the little deer who started out in life as a loser, just as I did. But they learn that when he gave himself for others, his handicap became the very means through which he received happiness.

My reward is knowing that every year, when Christmas rolls around, Rudolph still brings that message to millions, both young and old.


And that's the story of Robert L. May, the creator of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. And as cheering as the story is, there's more: Montgomery Ward, in a rare, stunning act of corporate generosity, gave May all of the rights to Rudolph, even though the company could have claimed the misfit reindeer as its own, since it was created under a work-for-hire contract. (The same kind of contract that denied creator's rights to Marvel artist Jack Kirby). And as for the rest of the story...Robert L. May "went down in history" and became a millionaire. His story is an object lesson to those artists who are on the brink of giving up. And also how misfits can make good. What artist doesn't identify with that?

So keep trying. Believe in yourself. You are NOT just a misfit. This is my Christmas gift to you. And thank you for visiting my page! :)



Rudolphmay by Toonicorn



:iconsnapai:
Snapai Featured By Owner Dec 22, 2013  Professional Filmographer
Eh, he still was doing better at age 33 than I am. :P
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:icontoonicorn:
Toonicorn Featured By Owner Dec 22, 2013  Professional General Artist
I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you won't give up, though.
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