Walt Disney
BY EDITH EFRON A cheerful group of men sits at a round table in the commissary, chatting, laughing and lunching. Their high spirits are not surprising. They are stockholders, and their company is doing well. Their annual report — adorned with a photograph of Mickey Mouse leading a triumphal parade in front of a white, fairy-tale castle — says, in its very first paragraph: “Consolidated net profit after taxes . . for the fiscal year ended Oct. 3, 1964 was $7,057,435.” At a near-by table, a tall, heavy-set man is chatting away, in his slow, affably rambling fashion, about his theories of color and composition. “Purpose,” he says, “determines composition. Now, for instance, if I were to paint that stockholders’ meeting over there. . . ” Then, he grins slowly. “Well, if I wanted to sell it to them. . . I'd sure feature the Chairman of the Board.” It’s a fanciful notion, in this case, because the affable, rambling man is somewhat in the position of the gold to the stockhol...
