My good friend Scott Shaw! recently posted the following over on Facebook. Read it and then I'll meet you on the other side to discuss it further…

I was just asked to do an interview to be used on an upcoming Warner Bros. DVD…but without compensation. Here was my reply:

"Sorry, but no. I am a working professional and need to be compensated for my time away from writing and drawing cartoons.

"I've done over a dozen interviews for Warner Bros. DVDs and have never been compensated. In fact, I've rarely received a copy or two of the DVD my interview appears upon. The last few times I've been approached for an interview, I've had to turn them down, with great regrets. I'm sixty years old and am one of the last generation of cartoonists who personally knew such greats of animation as Tex Avery, Bob Clampett, William Hanna and Joseph Barbera. Pros like myself are already entering the age of mortality, so we won't be around much longer to impart our first-hand knowledge of animation history.

"I realize that your production company, in order to get these 'extras' gigs, have to make rock-bottom bids. But Warner Bros. is a vast corporation that refuses to pay a cent for the content of those extras. Please let your corporate client know that if they continue to refuse to respect folks like myself by refusing to offer any professional considerations, we professionals will refuse to contribute to their product. Again, I'm sorry, but I know I'm not alone in this opinion. Good luck with your project."

With a few minor adjustments, I could have written that. I would have emphasized the many times I've done such interviews and been told, "Oh, we'll send you copies of the DVD when it comes out and of any other DVDs we do that you want." My experience has been that that's true less than half the time. I haven't received copies of most of the DVDs I was on. The person who makes the promise is probably sincere at that moment but by the time the product comes out, he or she is either not around or not involved…and no one else knows anything about it.

Usually in this world when people say, "It's not the money, it's the principle," it's the money. But in matters like this, it really isn't because there's a lot of principle and there isn't much money. For a while when I was asked to appear on DVDs, I didn't ask for compensation but I did take it if they offered. A few times — and I think at least one was a Time-Warner project — I got $200 or $300. That's not a lot, given that they expect you to go to them, all shaved and photogenic, then wait around while they finish eleven other people being interviewed that day. Sometimes, they want to bring their cameras to you, which means an hour of setting-up and the need to rearrange every piece of furniture you own…including that old end table you have in a Public Storage locker.

The DVD is being put out by Time-Warner or Sony or Disney or some huge, cash-heavy entity but the person who contacts you usually doesn't work for them, even if they're shooting their little documentary on the studio lot. You're called by a young filmmaker who just loves your work and you were the first person he thought of and, oh, this featurette wouldn't be complete without you…and even when you don't believe a word of that, the guy or gal is so nice that you'd really like to help them out.

He or she got the contract to make the DVD featurette by being the lowest bidder; ergo, they can't afford to pay interviewees. Or at least they say that. Actors, because they're actors and have actors' agents, are more prone to demand money for appearing before cameras. Sometimes, they wind up doing it for free but sometimes, they get paid. I appeared sans compensation on an animation DVD where the producer volunteered to me the statement that they weren't paying anyone because they couldn't afford to pay anyone. I later found out two voice performers who were interviewed just after me were receiving $2000 apiece.

I don't really mind not being paid on something like this but I don't like being lied to…especially because I hadn't even asked the guy about money. He brought it up to tell me there couldn't be any.

Often, they tell you, "It's good exposure…good publicity." That doesn't matter to me but if it did, I'd remind myself how often it happens that you do free interviews and then they either don't use the footage or just use ten seconds. When interviews don't cost them much, they tend to do a lot more of them than they need. What I think I like best about being paid is that those interviews are more apt to actually appear and I may even get to say something. (Three times in my life, I've gone to the trouble to get fancied-up and to drive many miles to be interviewed for something that was going to go on a DVD as a Special Feature. And then a week or two after that, they decided not to have any Special Features on the DVD.)

That I do them at all is not because I love appearing on camera. I dislike it to the point of wondering about the character of anyone who does. No, I do them because I fear that on some projects, if I didn't go in and talk about the history and about the people who made history, no one would. I guess it bothers me that some folks exploit that.

It bothers me more that this methodology creeps into so many other areas of writing and other creative arts. Lack of pay for appearing on a DVD is not a big deal and it doesn't affect many people. Alas, more and more in this Internet era, one encounters the mindset that content has little value…and if the content can be passed off as "promotional," no value at all. There are things we write and do from the heart or because we think they're good for mankind. I gross about a dime an hour on this blog, which is fine. You don't have to make a buck off everything you do. But there are some things in this world that are done for a profit and by not insisting on a share, all you're doing is charity work for Disney. Or Time-Warner. Or some other financial force of nature.

Scott is right. Those of us who were privileged to work with guys like Bill and Joe and Bob and Tex and men like Jack Kirby…we have an obligation to share what we heard and observed. That's one reason I have this blog and do other things like articles and convention panels, gratis. But I have to remember not to be so quick to do it for free for people who are going to turn around and sell it…because that's not a commitment to history. That's a commitment to being a chump.

Here's something you won't want to buy.  A dealer on eBay is selling a copy of my high school yearbook.  What's more, he's making a fuss about it being mine, even though I think there are several (now) more famous students in there.

No, I won't be bidding.  I have one…filled with autographs from my classmates.  About every ten years, I flip through it…and while I have fond memories of certain friends, I really didn't like high school.  I had long since decided what I wanted to do with my life.  I think I knew when I was ten.  From that moment on, I was acutely aware of how irrelevant most of what I was learning in school was to what I wanted to do.  The most valuable class I took there or in junior high was probably Typing.

But I had to take a lot of other stuff that has never mattered.  For instance, I had to learn how to balance a Redox Equation in Chemistry…something I managed to do without ever quite learning what a Redox Equation was or why they had to be balanced.  What's more, I learned what I learned in "Final Exam Mode," which means that after you commit it to paper for the final exam, it's instantly and forever erased from your head…like someone picked up the film on one of those Magic Slates we all had when I was eight.  (The analogy today would be to flushing the Recycle Bin icon on your desktop.)

So I couldn't wait to get out of high school and I only look back to remind myself that the Good Ol' Days weren't all that good and things got better as soon as I put them behind me.  A week after graduation, I made my first real sale as a professional writer — a real sale meaning I submitted something to a stranger and he bought it and paid me real money. That was the moment I decided the preface was over and my life was finally beginning.

The seller of my yearbook notes that there is but one photo of me in there. This is because I was a notorious non-participant in high school. I wasn't interested in inside-the-classroom activities, let alone outside-the-classroom endeavors. I did briefly let myself get drafted into serving in Student Government, a silly faux-democratic organization that tried to act like the United States Government…which is to say it got nothing done. I sat there for several long meetings while representatives debated a proposal to raise money to buy paint and then to solicit volunteers to come to the campus some weekend and paint all the trashcans.

I got so annoyed with the process that I introduced a proposal to abolish Student Government. I insisted I was not kidding and that I expected my proposal to be voted upon with the same seriousness as the one about painting the trashcans. A student who served as President sighed and granted my demand, and this led to several more meetings and much debate before we came to the conclusion that Student Government did not have the power to abolish Student Government. I'm not even sure we had the power to paint the trashcans but anyway, that's when I got out.

The seller notes "Mark's listed in the Speech Club Photo but looks like he was a No Show." I think that's because I never signed up for the Speech Club and didn't know until I got the yearbook that I was considered a member. I'm not even sure I knew there was a Speech Club before that.

Anyway, I thought I'd tell you the story of the one contribution I made to this yearbook. I didn't work on its staff but I had a good relationship with an art teacher named Mr. Nikirk who supervised its assembly. Mr. Nikirk had wanted to be a professional cartoonist at some past point in his life and we talked often about that profession and how hard it was (he said) to break into it.

He got into a certain amount of trouble over this yearbook because costs got out of hand. When it went off to press, the printing company began sending back little notes that certain things would incur extra charges — this would cost more or that would cost more, etc. The final damages came to around $500 more than expected and while Mr. Nikirk wasn't on the hook for that money — the school was and would have to take it out of something else — he had a lot of administrative-type people mad at him. One of his extravagances had been to have an aerial photo taken of the campus — a photo that, as you can see in the pic below, ran as the endpapers in the book.

When I got my copy of the yearbook, I noticed something. I was far from the first person on campus to see the yearbook but I was the first person to point this out. I went to Mr. Nikirk and knowing of his overcharge problem, I suggested he demand at least a bill reduction from the printers. "For what?" he asked. I told him, "For printing the big aerial photo backwards."

He grabbed the book I was holding out of my mitts and stared at the endpapers. With his finger, he tried to trace the route from the Teachers' Parking Lot to his classroom. It would not trace.

Sure enough: The photo was flipped over, printed mirror-image. East was West and West was East.

He dashed to the nearest phone, which was in the Teacher's Lounge. I tagged along to eavesdrop (with his permission) as he called the printers and told them of the error. They replied that it was his fault as he'd approved the proofs they'd sent over of the book. And he had…but there was a look of pure triumph on his face as he reminded them that the proofs had not included the endpapers. They, therefore, were responsible.

Over the next day or three, much arguing ensued along with threats of non-payment and legal action. The school finally told the printer that they were going to have the students all turn in their yearbooks and the lot of them would be shipped back. Uni High was rejecting the print job and it expected the books to be reprinted with the endpapers corrected. The printers, who stood to lose many thousands of dollars if they had to do that, offered to knock $1000 off the bill if the school would accept the books "as is." The school agreed…and that's how my high school yearbook not only didn't lose money but actually turned a nice profit.

It's also how we wound up with an apt metaphor in its endpapers. That school really was a backward place to get an education.