The cover of Stage magazine from February 1938, a never-before-seen illustration of the dwarf Grumpy, conceals an article on the film Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. The article, entitled “The Adventures of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs”, is signed by Munro Leaf and illustrated with previously unpublished drawings by A. Birnbaum.

Munro Leaf happens to be the author of “The story of Ferdinand”, which was being adapted on the screen by Walt Disney as Ferdinand the Bull.

The Adventures of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Every once in a while, there comes a movie that has been buzzed about and built up so much in advance that nothing in this world or the next one could be that good, and the sourpusses of the world get out their hammers and go to work. If Walter Disney still owns any boots and hasn’t pawned them to pay for just one more little raccoon to put into Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, he must be quaking in those boots right now. The picture is out and the public is making up its mind about Disney’s latest amazingly courageous venture into the field of the full-length feature. If you come right down to it, there isn’t a live thing in the picture. Technicians can tell you how it is all done with ink, paint, photographs hooked one onto another and garnished up with sound effects. I’d hate to call a technician a liar, but anybody is going to have a tough time telling me that good, beautiful Snow White, her Prince, the wicked queen (who is really wicked when she settles down to it), all seven dwarfs, and the hundreds of birds and animals came out of any ink or paint pots. I am not very sure that Walter Disney had anything to do with the whole thing. I think I did it all myself. Ever since I was big enough to get away from all this stuff that grown -ups in their misguided moments called reality, and learned that the real world that counts just spins itself out of nothing at all, where good is good and bad is bad and there is an awfully exciting mess while they are fighting it out to a happy ending, I have been working on this picture myself. Of course, I’ll give Dopey and the Turtle and Grumpy credit for being funnier than anyone I used to spin, and every animal is just a little more pettable than mine were, and my heroes never could sing worth beans, and though he can stop quaking in his boots, I won’t thank Walter Disney for making a motion picture for me. He’s just put all your dreams and my childhood fancies into life, where we can almost — not quite — touch them. For that we thank him with all our hearts. – Munro Leaf