Page 30 - Trending_041519

Artist reflects on Strawberry Shortcake’s 40-year birthday
By JIMMIE TRAMEL Tulsa World
TULSA, Okla. (AP) — Strawberry Short- cake — the character, not the dessert — is 40. Unveiled in 1979, Strawberry Shortcake
has a local connection.
Artist Muriel Fahrion, who created Straw-
berry Shortcake, is an Ohio transplant who has lived in Tulsa for three years.
“I always thought what I did was insig- nificant compared to what doctors do or firemen or policemen or people that save your life, what they do,” Fahrion said during an interview at her midtown home.
Then Fahrion began to hear stories from adults who grew up with Strawberry Short- cake as a companion. Some told Fahrion she “saved” their childhood because Strawberry Shortcake and her pals provided an escape from a bad family life or struggles at home.
“They had to get lost in something,” Fahrion told the Tulsa World. “And they got lost in Strawberry Shortcake Land, and it was important.”
Fahrion’s place in history is bigger than Strawberry Shortcake. She also was part of the launch team for the Care Bears and the Get Along Gang. She continues to create characters because it’s impossible to keep them locked up in her brain. They. Must. Get. Out.
“I have all these ideas,” she said, provid- ing background details on a stable of newer characters.
For those who require an introduction, Strawberry Shortcake became a pop culture and licensing phenomenon in the 1980s. She and pals like Lemon Meringue and Blueber- ry Muffin (Fahrion had a hand in creating the first 32 characters in the line) were everywhere. Dolls. Toys. Video game. Ani- mated TV specials. You name it. Strawberry Shortcake even graduated to a feature film (“Strawberry Shortcake: The Sweet Dreams Movie”) in 2006.
The Strawberry Shortcake franchise has generated millions upon millions in profits.
“Maybe a billion,” Fahrion said. “Who knows?”
Fahrion shares a nice home with two terri- ers, but, for clarity’s sake, it should be pointed
out that she does not reside in a mansion in Tulsa’s most Grey Poupon neighborhood.
“I didn’t get (Strawberry Shortcake) roy- alties because I was work for hire,” she said. “Most artists are that way. Most commercial artists and illustrators work that way. Only the rare ones make the big time and get the royalties.”
A former employer in Oklahoma told her it was a shame she didn’t get a piece of the financial pie (or in this case, the shortcake). Her reply: If I had gotten royalties, you never would have met me.
“I would have been in Cleveland living on the Gold Coast,” she said. “That’s where I would have been. I wouldn’t have left Cleve- land. In some ways, it’s not about money. I really like Oklahoma.”
Fahrion doesn’t want this to be — and it’s not — a story about how the creator of an iconic character is sour about missing out on a jackpot. Fellow Clevelanders Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster created Superman, sold the rights to a comic publishing company for $130 and revisited the character’s ownership in litigation.
She’s happy with her lot in life (you can catch her in her kitchen dancing on Insta- gram because why shouldn’t people dance in the kitchen?), and she’s happy she wound up in Tulsa.
“I love the Tulsa arts community,” she said. “They are so welcoming and generous that I am amazed.”
If the question is what brought Fahrion
to Tulsa, the easy answer is, a daughter lives here. But you have to go back a few addresses to get the full picture.
Fahrion was working for a boss she didn’t particularly like in Chicago and decided this: I’m going to like the people I work for, and I don’t care where it is.
That place became Oklahoma. Fahrion, who had never been to the state, moved to Norman in 1995 and took a position with United Design in Noble.
Fahrion and her husband, Michael, later relocated to Medicine Park, a resort commu- nity near Lawton. Michael was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. When his
health began failing and the resort property became too difficult for him to navigate, a decision was made to move to Tulsa. She served as his caretaker until his death Oct. 16, 2018.
Once retired, Fahrion now is unretired. She said circumstances related to her husband’s health struggles “drained all the money we had. Everything. It’s gone. I’m not a starving artist. I still get social security. I still get some money. But it drained so much that now I am supporting myself again. I’m back in it.”
Fahrion, who can be reached on Facebook and Instagram, sells art and does com- missions. Unless it’s for a charity project, Fahrion doesn’t draw Strawberry Shortcake because she doesn’t want to risk winding up in a courtroom. But her “style,” even before Strawberry Shortcake was born, was the Strawberry Shortcake style.
The story behind Strawberry Shortcake? Fahrion was working as a greeting card
artist in Cleveland. An art director asked
her to come up with a rag doll character and suggested a theme of daisies and strawberries and the color pink.
“And I ran with that,” Fahrion said. “I developed the look, and I also added Custard the Cat at that point.”
The initial plan was for Strawberry Patches (renamed Strawberry Shortcake because the name was already claimed) to appear on six greeting cards. A couple of years before that, toy developer and marketer Bernie Loom-
is saw potential in a little film called “Star Wars” and acquired licensing rights. Boom. Loomis was on the hunt for a girl-centric
property that might do well on toy shelves. Loomis was shown five properties, according to Fahrion, and the one he chose was Straw- berry Shortcake.
Fahrion said $1,000 was budgeted to create a Strawberry Shortcake line. She continued to hit her greeting card quota while working with a small team of people on the Strawber- ry Shortcake project. Related characters were born in brainstorming sessions. Fahrion said she submitted drawings to an older sister, Susan Trentel, who crafted the first Strawber-
30 | TRENDING