Mr. Shepard & Mr. Milne (1974) - full transcript

Narrator: Between 1923 and 1928,

two men collaborated
to produce the poems, stories,

and drawings
of Winnie-the-Pooh--

two volumes of poetry
and two of stories,

books that have been translated
into more than 20 languages.

♪

Narrator: This film has been
made on location in England

at the late A.A. Milne's
London and Sussex homes,

at Ernest Shephard's house
and studio in Surrey,

and at the places
that both men knew and loved

and put into their books
50 years ago.



The Pooh verses
and stories are read

by Christopher Robin Milne, who
also reads his father's comments

on the writing
of the earliest poems,

the first appearance
of Winnie-the-Pooh,

and his collaboration
with Ernest Shephard

the illustrator and artist.

Mr. Shephard, at over 90,
remembers in his own words

those early years of the century
and the first occasions

when he and Milne
worked together

on the humorous magazine
"Punch."

Shephard: I always drew
from the very beginning.

I'd been sending odd drawings
to "Punch" And things like that

and getting mostly sent back,
you see.

I thought of them
as money spinners, really,



because I so rarely had
an inspiration for the joke,

which was good enough
for "Punch."

I always remember
the first drawing.

It was some quotation
of something.

They took that.

That was the first drawing
I had in "Punch,"

And I think it's 1905 or '06,
it might have been.

Christopher: "Anybody
who has heard of Ernest Shephard

has probably heard
of A.A. Milne.

Just before the first war,
we worked together

on the weekly magazine "Punch."

Once a week, the regular
contributors of "Punch"

met for a dinner to decide
on the content

of the political cartoons
and other things

for the next week's issue.

At 24, I was the youngest
to be invited

to carve my initials
on that famous table,

to join those
of Dickens, Thackeray,

Sir John Tenniel,
and many others.

About this time,
Shephard began drawing cartoons,

and he, too,
joined the "Punch" Table.

As an assistant editor,
I was very much an office boy--

Checking the printer's proofs,
meeting with correspondents,

And so on--but I still
had to find time

to make my own personal
contribution to "Punch"--

a gay, I hoped, article
of 1,200 words

with a smile in every paragraph
and a laugh in every inch.

I was paid by the inch.

Shephard sent in cartoons
from time to time,

and some were published.

Strange to think of it now,
but when he was making

those early,
tentative pictures,

I used to say to F.H. Townsend,
the art editor,

on the occasion
of each new Shephard drawing,

'What on earth to do you
see in this lad?

He's perfectly hopeless,'
And Townsend

would say complacently,
'You wait,'

and Shephard continued
to send in his sketches."

Shephard: I wanted to go out
and earn my living, you see,

and I knew that
I'd have to do that.

I was already in love
with my first wife,

and I wanted to make some money

to be able to offer myself,
you see.

Oh, it came very, very--yes--
irregularly in dribs and drabs.

Well, I mean,
we struggled along,

and I got commissions
until we were getting on

a little better and we moved
into shamley green, you see.

[honk honk honk]

Well, it was very rustic,
very rural.

[bicycle bell rings]

I got to know the people.

They accept you.
Well, naturally.

I mean, at the village shop,
you went up there,

they knew you, you know?

Stent, the old man,
he served in the shop,

and Mrs. Stent, I know,
served in the shop

and lived in the cottage
next door.

Rawnsley offered to introduce me
to Florence Nightingale,

as he knew her quite well,

and I couldn't afford
the fare to go up,

hardly ever went up to London.

Christopher: "The world was
not then the world it is today.

I was very young,
very lighthearted,

confident of myself
and confident of the future.

I loved my work.
I loved not working.

I loved being in love.

In 1913, Dorothy de Selincourt,
Daphne to her friends,

was persuaded to marry me.

We had gone about together
in a way common enough now

but less usual in those days.

When I wanted a present
for a sister-in-law

or a new suit for myself,
I would ask her to help me.

When she wanted a man
to take her to a dance,

she would ring me up.

She laughed
at my jokes.

She had the most perfect
sense of humor in the world.

My next book was dedicated to
my collaborator,

who buys ink and paper, laughs,

and, in fact, does all
the really difficult parts

of the business of writing."

♪

"In August of 1920,

My collaborator produced
a more personal work.

We had intended
to call it Rosemary

but decided later that Billy
would be more suitable,

so we had to think
of two other names.

One was sort of Robin,
the other Christopher--

Christopher Robin,
names wasted on him

who called himself Billy Moon
as soon as he could talk

and has been Moon to his friends
and family ever since.

When Christopher was 3,
we took a house

in north Wales for August.

It rained continuously."

[rain falling]

"I pleaded urgent inspiration,
took a pencil

and an exercise book, and
escaped to the summer house.

So there I was,
with an exercise book and pencil

and a fixed determination
not to leave

the peaceful solitude
of that summer house

until it stopped raining,
but sooner or later,

I shall be asked
what I was writing.

There once was a dormouse
who lived in a bed

of delphiniums blue
and geraniums red,

and all the day long,
he had a wonderful view

of geraniums red
and delphiniums blue.

So what was I writing,
a child's book of verses?

Obviously, not a whole book,
of course,

but to write a few
would be fun.

Besides, my pencil had
an India rubber on the end,

just the thing for poetry.

John had great, big,
waterproof boots on.

John had
a great, big, waterproof hat.

John had a great, big,
waterproof mackintosh,

'And that,' said John,
'is that.'"

Boy: Hello!

"I had 11 wet days
in that summer house

and wrote 11 sets of verses.

then I took the family
back to London

a little apologetically,
feeling that a man

of strong character would be
writing that detective story

and making £2,000
for the family,

but I went on writing verses,
and by the end of the year,

I had enough for a book,

but who was to illustrate it?

My publisher suggested
Shephard."

Shephard: When Lucas suggested
that I should illustrate

his first book
"When We Were Very Young,"

He said, "What, Shephard?

Not that man who does
those awful drawings in "Punch."

That's quite
a historic story now,

but there it was.

However, E.V. Lucas, you know,
of course, a good friend,

really, because he said,
"Don't worry about what he says.

do some of the drawings for
this 'When We Were Very Young,'

and we'll show them
to Alan Milne."

I thought they were such fun,
the ones I read, that I said,

"If this is the standard,
I'd like to do it."

I looked through the poems
and picked out some

and did some sketches
and took them along to Alan.

He captured the drawings most
readily and pleased with them.

He said, "Oh, I like
these drawings you've done,"

And he said, "Yes.
Go on and do some more."

♪

Christopher: "There once
was a dormouse who lived

in a bed of delphiniums blue
and geraniums red,

and all the day long,
he had a wonderful view

of geraniums red
and delphiniums blue.

The doctor stood frowning
and shaking his head,

and he took up his shiny,
silk hat as he said,

"What the patient requires
is a change,"

And he went to see some
chrysanthemum people in Kent.

The dormouse lay there,
and he gazed at the view

of geraniums red
and delphiniums blue,

and he knew there was nothing
he wanted instead

of delphiniums blue
and geraniums red."

[marching footsteps]

♪

"They're changing guard
at Buckingham Palace.

Christopher Robin
went down with Alice.

Alice is marrying
one of the guard.

'A soldier's life
is terrible hard,' says Alice."

[man shouting orders]

"They're changing guard
at Buckingham Palace.

Christopher Robin
went down with Alice.

We saw a guard
in the sentry box.

'One of the sergeants looks
after their socks,' says Alice.

They're changing guard
at Buckingham Palace.

Christopher Robin
went down with Alice.

We looked for the king,
but he never came.

'Well, God take care of him,
all the same,' says Alice.

They're changing guard
at Buckingham Palace.

Christopher Robin
went down with Alice.

'Do you think the king
knows all about me?'

'Sure to, dear, but it's time
for tea,' says Alice."

♪

[footsteps]

"There are lions
and roaring tigers,

and enormous camels and things,

there are
biffalo-buffalo-bisons

and a great big bear
with wings.

There's a sort of tiny potamus,
and a tiny nosserus too.

There are badgers and bidgers
and bodgers,

And a super-in-tendent's house,

there are masses of goats,
and a polar,

and different kinds of mouse,
and I think

there's a sort of a something
which is called a wallaboo--

but I gave buns to the elephant
when I went down to the zoo!

If you try to talk
to the bison,

He never quite understands;

and you can't shake hands
with a mingo--

he doesn't like shaking hands.

And lions and roaring tigers
hate saying, 'How do you do?'--

but I give buns to the elephant
when I go down to the zoo!

Wherever I am,
there's always Pooh,

there's always Pooh and me.

Whatever I do, he wants to do,

'Where are you going today?'
says Pooh:

'Well, that's very odd
'cos I was too.'

'Let's go together,'
says Pooh, says he.

'Let's go together,' says Pooh.

Llet's look for dragons,'
I said to Pooh.

'Yes, let's,' said Pooh to me.

We crossed the river
and found a few--

'Yes, those are dragons
all right,' said Pooh.

'I'm not afraid,'
I said to Pooh,

and I held his paw
and I shouted "Shoo!"

So wherever I am,
there's always Pooh,

there's always Pooh and me.

'What would I do?'
I said to Pooh,

'If it wasn't for you,'
and Pooh said: 'True,

'it isn't much fun for one,
but two, can stick together,'

Says Pooh, says he.

'That's how it is,' says Pooh."

Shephard: Before it is
published, Methuen's, they
offered me £50

for the drawings,
the set of drawings, you see,

and the day it was published,
they invited me into the office

and presented me
with a check for £100,

so that means I got £150 for
doing the whole book, you see.

[chuckles]

When the book was complete
and I'd done all the drawings,

it had gone to press.

Alan said to me that Methuen's
had told him

they wanted him to write a book,
and he said,

"I shall do it in my own time,
but in any case,

I shall want you
to illustrate it,"

Which I think was
quite a compliment.

Christopher: "Once upon a time,
about last Friday,

Winnie-the-Pooh lived
in a forest all by himself.

in the same forest
lived Christopher Robin,

and nearby
in the hundred acre wood

Lived Piglet, Kanga, and Roo,

Tigger, Rabbit, Owl,
and Eeyore."

♪

"I finished the first two
chapters of 'Winnie-the-Pooh'

after a year's work
and sent them to Shephard.

The colossal success
of the poems

was in no small part
due to his work,

and I wanted him to do the
drawings for "Winnie-the-Pooh."

I asked him to come
to our new house near the forest

and see the places for himself,

see all the things
that were nearby

that I had put into the book
and hoped he would illustrate.

Now, one day, Pooh and Piglet
and Rabbit and Roo

were all playing
Poohsticks together.

They had dropped their sticks
in when Rabbit said, 'go,'

and they had hurried across
to the other side of the bridge,

and now they were all
leaning over the edge

waiting to see whose stick
would come out first.

'They always take longer
than you think,' said Rabbit.

'I can see yours, Piglet,'
said Pooh suddenly.

'Mine's a sort of grayish one,'
said Piglet.

'Yes. That's what I can see.
It's coming over onto my side.'

'Oh, no, it isn't.
It's Eeyore,'

and out floated Eeyore.

'I didn't know
you were playing,' said Pooh.

'I'm not,' said Eeyore."

Shephard: I got some
pencil drawings of the bear

that my boy had
when he was young.

Growler they called him,
you see.

The children called him Growler

because when he laid down,
he growled,

which is a delightful thing
to do, you see.

He was a very superior bear.

In fact, I've never seen
a bear like him.

He had a figure, too.

I mean, he was dignified
in a way.

They have very little brain.

Well, they're inclined to wander
and bewildered.

That's Pooh all over.

He was inclined to be
hazy in the brain a bit.

Christopher: One day
when he was out walking,

he, Winnie-the-Pooh,
came to an open place

in the middle of the forest,
and in the middle of this place

was a large oak tree,
and from the top of the tree

came a loud, buzzing noise."

[buzzing]

"That buzzing noise
means something.

The only reason
for making a buzzing noise

that I know of is because
you're a bee,

and the only reason for
being a bee that I know of

is making honey, and
the only reason for making honey

is so as I can eat it."

"It's a very funny thought
that if bears were bees,

They'd build their nests
at the bottom of trees

and, that being so,
if bees were bears,

we shouldn't have to climb up
all these stairs.

How sweet to be a cloud
floating in the blue.

Every little cloud
always sings aloud.

How sweet to be a cloud
floating in the blue.

It makes him very proud
to be a little cloud."

♪

Shephard: I think that he
retired into himself,

very often for long periods,

and then it was a great relief
to him to change everything else

and go off and do that.

He was a different man
going over the ground

and showing me the places,

all the spots
where things happened.

They're all drawn
from the real thing,

all the illustrations
and the backgrounds.

Christopher:
"Eeyore stood by himself

in a thistly corner
of the forest

and thought about things.

Winnie-the-Pooh
came stumping along.

Eeyore was very glad to be able
to stop thinking for a little

In order to say,
'How do you do?'

in a gloomy manner to him.

'Why, what's happened
to your tail?

It isn't there.'

'Then what is?'
'Nothing.'

'Let's have a look.

I believe you're right.'

Through copse and spinney
marched bear

To the hundred acre wood,
for it is

in the hundred acre wood
that Owl lives,

the chestnuts,
an old-world residence

Of great charm which was
grander than anybody else's,

or seemed so to bear,
because it had

both a knocker
and a bell pull.

'Handsome bell rope, isn't it?'
said owl.

Pooh nodded.

'It reminds me of something,
but I can't think what.

Where did you get it?'

'I just came across it
in the forest,

and, as nobody seemed to
want it, I took it home and--'

'Owl, you made a mistake.
Somebody did want it.'

'Who?'
'Eeyore.

My dear friend Eeyore,
he was--he was fond of it.'

'Fond of it?'
'Attached to it.'

When Christopher Robin
had nailed it

on its right place again,
Eeyore frisked about the forest

waving his tail so happily
that Winnie-the-Pooh

came over all funny
and had to hurry home

for a little snack
of something."

[typing]

"Pooh looked up at his clock,
which had stopped

at 5 minutes to 11:00
some weeks ago.

'Nearly 11:00.

You're just in time for
a little smackerel of something,

and then we'll go out, Piglet,
and sing my song to Eeyore.

It's a special outdoors song

which has to be sung
in the snow.'

'The more it snows,
(tiddely pom),

the more
it goes (tiddely pom),

the more it goes
(tiddely pom), on snowing.

and nobody knows
(tiddely pom),

how cold
my toes (tiddely pom),

how cold my toes
(tiddely pom), are growing.'"

♪

"After thinking
the matter out carefully,

Piglet said, 'Pooh, it isn't
the toes so much as the ears.'

'I've been thinking,'
said Pooh,

'and what I've been thinking
is this.

I've been thinking
about Eeyore.

Let's build him a house.'

'What with all this snow
and one thing and another,

not to mention icicles
and suchlike,

it isn't so hot in my field
about 3:00 in the morning.

It isn't close.
It isn't stuffy.

In fact, it's cold.'

The sun was
so delightfully warm

and the stone which had been
sitting in it for a long time

was so warm, too, that the Pooh
had almost decided

to go on being Pooh
in the middle of the stream

for the rest of the morning.

'I could spend a happy morning
seeing Roo.

I could spend
a happy morning being Pooh,

but it doesn't seem to matter
if I don't get any fatter,

and I don't get any fatter,
what I do.'

"I have not created the animals
Pooh, Piglet, and Eeyore,

Kanga and Roo and the rest.

Christopher Robin and
his mother gave life to them,

and I have just put them
into a book,

and Ernest Shephard
has drawn them.

Between us, it may be
we have given them shape,

but you only have to look
at them to see as I saw at once

Tigger is bouncy,
Piglet squeaky,

Eeyore melancholy,

and the Pooh is a bear
of very little brain."

Shephard: I had a lot
of experience

illustrating children's books,

and I'd always done it
straightforwardly.

I'd done a drawing which I liked
and which I felt,

"This is a little thing
children would like,

and everything,"
And that was sufficient,

and I think that pertains
everywhere,

I mean, in writing
just the same, I imagine.

If he felt he was writing
to please himself

and the children, too,
that was good enough.

Christopher: "Writing--let me
confess it unashamedly--is fun,

though there is something
of inspiration in it,

something of business,
something, at times,

of frustration,
yet in the main,

it is just thrill,
the thrill of exploring.

The more difficult the country,
the more untraveled

by the writer, the greater--
to me, anyhow--the thrill.

As children, we have explored
the world of imagination

from end to end,
and always the map of it

lies buried in our hearts
half-forgotten.

a gleam from outside
may light it up for us

so that for a moment,
it becomes clear again,

and perhaps in that
precious moment,

we can make a copy of it
for others."

♪

"'Where are we going?'
said Pooh.

'Nowhere,'
said Christopher Robin.

So they began going there.

They walked on
thinking of this and that,

and by and by they came
to an enchanted place

on the very top of the forest
called Galleon's Lap

which is 60-something trees
in a circle,

and Christopher knew
that it was enchanted

because nobody
had ever been able to count

whether it was 63 or 64.

Sitting there, they could see
the whole world spread out

until it reached the sky,
and whatever there was

all the world over was
with them in Galleon's Lap.

'When you wake up
in the morning, Pooh,'

Said Piglet at last,

'What's the first thing
you say to yourself?'

'What's for breakfast?'
said Pooh.

'What do you say, Piglet?'

'I say, "I wonder what's going
to happen exciting today,"'

Said Piglet.

Pooh nodded thoughtfully. 'It's
the same thing,' he said."