Gene Deitch Associates, Inc. -- possibly the most insignificant animation studio in the history of peg-holes, but MUNRO was born there, and it became my way-station to an entirely new life. Perhaps I am the first "Born-Again Animator!"

Deitch’s dream project was Samson Scrap & Delilah, but he wouldn’t sell out to Screen Gems.

The personal manager of Bob Keeshan — Captain Kangaroo — at that lunch at the Plaza Hotel in 1956 was Marvin Josephson. He was still a boyish, freckle-faced youngster of about 30, smoking a cigar and exhaling confidence. He was already the manager of Walter Cronkite, Dan Rather and other leading CBS personalities. After the Terrytoons disaster he became my personal manager, spinning dreams of millions for me.

The first task was to find backers for a studio to have the glorious name, “Gene Deitch Associates, Inc.” Marvin took 15% of my income, and took over the payment of my personal household bills. He did a lot of things, but not what I had expected: to find backers and clients for my new studio. “I am not an agent,” he declared. I was learning, but still a babe in the business woods.

I figured I could manage my grocery bills myself, and walked into his office and told him I really didn’t need a personal manager. I assumed that he, who had all these famous, gold-plated clients, would surely be happy to get rid of me. But he was furious! He made out that he was losing a potential Walt Disney. The thing is, I had no such illusions. Josephson went on to head the biggest personal management operation on the planet. I just pooped along, alone.

In 1958, my best friend, New York actor Allen Swift and I concocted an animation property named Samson Scrap & Delilah. Samson Scrap was a dedicated junk man. “Better Things For Better Living Through Junk,” was Samson’s twist on the DuPont slogan of that time. Delilah was his lady horse, pulling Samson’s wagon, loaded with castoff treasures, to the magical garden of rusted stuff that was his junkyard. Two boys, living in what appeared to be the slums of Queens, named Pinetop and Washboard, (named after two of my favorite bluesmen), were Samson’s devoted acolytes, seeing in Samson’s treasure of trash the makings of unlimited new fun constructions. (Harking back to the days when kids still made their own toys!)

We felt we had the makings of the perfect animated series, exactly at the time that Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera were getting into it. We took the idea to Screen Gems, the branch of Columbia Pictures devoted to the budding TV syndication market. Screen Gems was headed by the legendary hardball producer, Ralph Cohn, who also handled H&B.

Cohn went for our idea immediately. The wicked gleam in his eye told us that he saw a chance to have a counter weight against Bill and Joe, who he stated were “getting too big for their britches.”

The H&B product at that time was limited to Ruff & Reddy and Huckleberry Hound, but those boys had already found the cheap production road to riches, well beyond their britches of the time. Anyway, Ralph presented me with a contract the thickness of your average phonebook. My lawyer waded through it and assured me that my grandchildren might see a few nickels from it, (in their maturity). In return for ten grand to produce three six-minute pilots, the contract gave Screen Gems rights to the next six properties we might create! One can easily understand why H&B got out from their clutches at the earliest opportunity.

Well, as much as we yearned to get Samson Scrap & Delilah into the Big Time, we reluctantly said no thank you, and thus H&B made the millions and not us. So it goes.