I heard about the death of Shamus Culhane through a voice mail message from Animation World Editor Harvey Deneroff asking me to write an obituary. Two years had passed since Shamus had told me that he was dying, but somehow I never took this news seriously. Despite his physical decline, his mental vitality gave him an aura of permanence. I simply couldn't imagine a day when Shamus Culhane no longer would be here. Since receiving Harvey's call, I've had an opportunity not only to assess Shamus' contribution to the field of animation, but to review his presence in my life.

I first met Shamus Culhane over twenty years ago while I was a film student in New York. Researching animation history, it occurred to me one day that I could just pick up the phone and call some of the artists who made these films. The first person I phoned was Shamus Culhane, who spoke to me for hours. In many ways a private individual, he still had time for everyone. Now, I can only imagine what he must have thought as he fielded my youthfully fervent and generally idiotic questions with grace and patience.

Shamus Culhane, by Tom Sito © Tom Sito

Shortly afterwards, I organized a Fleischer retrospective at the Columbia University Cinematheque. Shamus was invited for a question and answer session along with a group of other former Fleischer employees. The evening was monopolized by the antics of an aging voice artist, who sang and danced numbers from forty year old cartoons as the animators sat in the vain hope of getting a turn to speak. While the others did a slow burn, Shamus sat, wearing a beret and smoking a cigarette, with a bemused smile on his face as if he had expected this little joke all along. And, I suppose he did.

Some years later, I went over to the Culhane home to do a formal oral history. Stiffly and awkwardly, I read out my prepared questions as if I were interviewing the Pope. Shamus was completely relaxed, recounting his years as an animator in an ironic, and occasionally ribald, fashion. "Call me Shamus." he insisted. I thought, If this were Picasso, would I say, "...uh, Pablo?"

The turning point in my relationship with Shamus came during the terrible heat of a New York August in 1990, when he and I drank the afternoon away in a nondescript bar. As the alcohol worked its magic on me, I began to look at Shamus (from my prone position beneath the brass rail) in a wholly different light. Previously, I had seen him as an historical figure as Shamus Culhane, animator of Pluto, the Seven Dwarfs, Woody Woodpecker, Betty Boop, Popeye, the Ajax Elves, and the Muriel Cigar.