If you’ve ever felt like the only kid who couldn’t kick the football, strike up a conversation with a beagle, or worry about whether the Great Pumpkin will finally show up, you already understand the strange magic of Charles M. Schulz. The creator of Peanuts turned everyday anxieties into four-panel philosophy, packaging loneliness, hope, and quiet joy in ink and newsprint. This article dives into rankings and opinions about Schulz his greatest creations, most influential characters, and how he stacks up against other cartoonists with a dash of humor worthy of Snoopy himself.
Who Was Charles M. Schulz, Really?
Charles M. Schulz was born on November 26, 1922, in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and died on February 12, 2000, in Santa Rosa, California. He spent roughly 50 years drawing Peanuts, which debuted in 1950 and quickly evolved into one of the most successful comic strips of all time. His shy, introspective personality shows up in the strip’s tone: kids debating the meaning of life on a baseball field, a dog dreaming of being a World War I flying ace, and a “lovable loser” who never quite wins but keeps trying anyway.
At its peak, Peanuts ran in around 2,600 newspapers across 75 countries, translated into over 20 languages, reaching hundreds of millions of readers daily. Schulz ultimately produced 17,897 published Peanuts strips a staggering lifetime output for a single creator who essentially worked alone. That level of sustained creativity is one reason many critics rank him among the greatest cartoonists in history.
Ranking Schulz’s Greatest Creative Achievements
1. The Peanuts Daily Strip (The Gold Standard)
The top spot has to go to the daily Peanuts comic strip itself. While the holiday specials and movies are beloved, the strip is where Schulz’s voice is purest. He used minimalist drawings and simple dialogue to tackle big themes: insecurity, disappointment, faith, friendship, and fear of failure. Charlie Brown’s eternal struggle to fly a kite or win a baseball game acts as a metaphor for every reader who has ever tried, failed, and tried again.
Critics often point to the 1950s through early 1970s as Schulz’s peak era: visually looser, verbally sharper, and emotionally deeper. During those decades, he fine-tuned the balance between gag humor and existential musing. Many rankings of “best comic strips of all time” put Peanuts at or near #1 because it proves that four little boxes can carry the weight of the human condition without ever losing the punchline.
2. Snoopy and His 100+ Alter Egos
In fan opinion polls, Snoopy almost always lands at the top of the character rankings, and it’s not hard to see why. Originally drawn as a fairly normal dog walking on four legs, Snoopy gradually evolved into a bipedal, wildly imaginative figure a World-Famous Author, Joe Cool, a hockey star, a figure skater, and of course the World War I Flying Ace. Schulz himself noted that once Snoopy started walking on two legs, he transformed into a lead character and opened up the strip’s narrative possibilities in a big way.
Snoopy’s personalities let Schulz parody ambition and fantasy. Snoopy types novels that are never quite finished, fights an imaginary Red Baron, and daydreams his way out of reality. If Charlie Brown represents how we feel when life defeats us, Snoopy shows how we’d like to feel confident, cool, and endlessly self-invented. Many readers rank Snoopy as one of the most recognizable and beloved cartoon characters in global pop culture, up there with Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny.
3. The Side Characters Who Quietly Stole the Show
Another major achievement: Schulz created an ensemble cast where nearly everyone could star in their own strip. The supporting characters are so distinct that they often top favorite-character rankings:
- Lucy Van Pelt – Sharp-tongued, bossy, and occasionally vulnerable, Lucy is the embodiment of weaponized honesty. Schulz famously described her as the side of himself capable of saying the mean, sarcastic things he’d never dare voice in real life, yet he also emphasized that Lucy has a softer, insecure side.
- Linus Van Pelt – The blanket-toting philosopher. Linus’s mix of theological insight and childhood anxiety gives Schulz room to explore faith, doubt, and hope, often in a single strip.
- Peppermint Patty and Marcie – Their dynamic the sporty, oblivious leader and the brainy, deadpan friend became a template for countless later cartoon duos.
- Pigpen – Covered in a dust cloud, Pigpen appears in just over 100 of the nearly 18,000 strips because Schulz found it hard to keep inventing dirt-based gags. That scarcity has only boosted his cult-favorite status among fans.
The strength and variety of the supporting cast is a major reason critics rank Schulz’s world-building on par with great novelists and TV showrunners.
4. A Charlie Brown Christmas and the Power of TV Specials
When people rank Schulz’s non-strip achievements, A Charlie Brown Christmas usually sits at the top. The 1965 animated special was made on a low budget, with real children voicing the characters and a sparse jazz score by Vince Guaraldi. It felt risky: it was slow-paced, contemplative, and included a direct reading from the Gospel of Luke almost unheard of in mainstream holiday entertainment at the time.
The gamble paid off. The special won an Emmy and became a yearly ritual for millions of families. Its success opened the door for dozens of other Peanuts specials and cemented Schulz’s reputation beyond the comics page. Fan rankings of “best Christmas specials” still regularly place it toward the top, decades after its first broadcast.
5. Schulz’s Long-Game Evolution of Style
Some cartoonists have a strong start and then fade; Schulz managed to keep evolving for half a century. Early Peanuts strips featured more detailed backgrounds and slightly more realistic children. Over time, he stripped the art down fewer lines, more open space, and a focus on expressive faces and body language. Museum exhibitions tracing the strip’s history highlight just how intentionally he simplified his style to emphasize emotion over detail.
Most rankings of Schulz’s “best years” point to the middle decades, but there’s growing appreciation for his later work, which often leans into quieter reflections on aging, memory, and change. Even as his line became shakier toward the end of his life, the emotional precision stayed sharp.
How Does Schulz Rank Among Cartoonists?
When critics and historians compile lists of the greatest cartoonists, Schulz usually appears in the top tier, often in the #1 spot. He’s frequently credited with elevating the comic strip into a literary form, using humor not just to entertain but to explore loneliness, mental health, spirituality, and disappointment with surprising subtlety.
Other artists routinely cite him as an influence, from newspaper cartoonists to graphic novelists and animators. The global reach of Peanuts along with books, television specials, merchandise, and even a theme park presence makes Schulz a rare figure who was simultaneously an artist’s artist and a commercial powerhouse.
In rankings of cultural impact, Schulz scores highly because his work crossed demographic lines: adults saw themselves in the kids’ neuroses, children laughed at the slapstick, and everyone recognized the ache of trying hard and falling short. That broad emotional resonance helps explain why new collections, exhibits, and adaptations keep appearing long after his death.
Common Opinions and Debates About Schulz and Peanuts
Was Peanuts Too Sad?
One long-running debate: is Peanuts secretly a downer? Charlie Brown loses more often than he wins. Snoopy’s fantasies rarely pan out. Lucy yanks the football away every single time. For some readers, that recurring defeat feels bleak.
But many fans and scholars argue the opposite: the strip’s honesty about failure is precisely what makes it comforting. Life is full of missed chances and awkward moments; Schulz simply refuses to lie about that. Instead, he leans into the courage of continuing anyway Charlie Brown keeps showing up at the pitcher’s mound and keeps trusting Lucy, even when every data point says he shouldn’t. That stubborn hopefulness is why “downbeat” and “heartwarming” can both apply to the same four panels.
Which Era of Peanuts Was the Best?
Ask ten fans to rank their favorite Peanuts eras, and you’ll get at least twelve opinions:
- 1950s–early 1960s: Often praised as the most daring and experimental years, with darker gags and a rawer, scratchier drawing style.
- Mid-1960s–1970s: For many, the “classic” period when Snoopy’s personas took off, the cast expanded, and the strip hit a perfect balance of philosophy and slapstick.
- 1980s–1990s: Sometimes ranked lower by purists, but this era has its defenders. Schulz explored more introspective themes and gently updated the strip while remaining true to its core.
There’s no single correct ranking, but a popular opinion is that Schulz’s consistency is the real achievement few creators maintain such a high level of quality over five decades with no ghostwriters or assistants.
How Well Has Peanuts Aged?
Another common ranking topic: how does Peanuts hold up in a modern media landscape? New readers encounter the strip alongside high-intensity CGI movies and social-media jokes. Many critics argue that Schulz’s work has aged surprisingly well because it relies on timeless human feelings rather than topical references. The kids almost never talk about specific politicians or celebrities; they talk about self-doubt, crushes, baseball, school, and the fear that you might never quite measure up.
That said, some storylines and character portrayals reflect the norms of their time, and contemporary readers may view them through a more critical lens. As with many long-running works, thoughtful curation and context help new audiences appreciate the strengths while recognizing dated elements.
How to Start Reading Peanuts Today
If your only exposure to Schulz is from a holiday special or a Snoopy plush, it’s worth ranking your reading options and diving into the strips themselves:
- Start with curated collections. Numerous anthologies focus on specific decades or themes (like baseball, holidays, or Snoopy’s Flying Ace episodes). These are great “greatest hits” samplers that showcase Schulz at his sharpest.
- Explore the chronological “complete” editions. For readers who love watching an artist grow, the year-by-year reprints highlight how dramatically the strip evolved in tone and drawing style.
- Revisit the TV specials after reading the comics. Once you know the characters from the strip, the holiday specials feel richer almost like seeing old friends step off the page and onto your screen.
Approaching Schulz this way lets you form your own rankings: best characters, best story arcs, funniest strips, or most heartbreakingly honest moments. The joy of Peanuts is that every reader discovers a different favorite panel to carry around in their head.
Experiences and Reflections on “Charles M. Schulz Rankings And Opinions”
Talk to longtime fans, and you’ll hear a recurring theme: people rarely remember the first time they saw a Peanuts strip it just feels like it was always there, like the alphabet or the taste of peanut butter. For many readers, the daily ritual of opening the newspaper and checking in on Charlie Brown, Snoopy, and the gang became a quiet anchor in their lives. The strip didn’t shout for attention; it waited patiently in the corner of the comics page, offering a small moment of recognition that you weren’t the only one who felt awkward and unsure.
When fans describe their personal “rankings” of Schulz moments, they often focus less on the objectively funniest strips and more on the ones that seemed to understand them. A shy kid might rank a simple drawing of Charlie Brown sitting alone on a bench as their #1, because it captured a feeling they didn’t yet have words for. Someone who struggled with perfectionism might remember a strip where Linus lets go of his blanket for just one panel and then grabs it back as a perfect miniature of how hard change really is.
Adults who grew up with Peanuts sometimes rediscover the strip later and realize how much went over their heads as children. The jokes about psychiatry booths, unreturned love, and free-floating anxiety land differently when you’re paying your own bills. Re-reading the strip as an adult can reshuffle your internal rankings: what once seemed like a simple gag about a baseball team losing every game suddenly reads as a profound commentary on showing up even when success is unlikely.
There’s also a communal side to Schulz’s legacy. Families bond over watching A Charlie Brown Christmas every year, or over arguing about who the best character is. (Someone always votes for Pigpen just to be contrary; there’s usually a Snoopy superfan; and at least one person passionately defends Marcie.) These informal rankings and opinions create shared language in households and friend groups. Quoting the strip “Good grief,” “You blockhead!” or “Happiness is a warm puppy” becomes a shorthand way of saying, “I get how you feel.”
Even people who aren’t hardcore fans often feel a surprising jolt of emotion when they see Schulz’s linework in a museum or a high-quality reprint. The original art shows tiny corrections, erased pencil lines, and the slightly uneven rhythm of hand-drawn lettering. It reminds viewers that every one of those nearly 18,000 strips was the result of a real person sitting at a drawing board, day after day, turning his worries and observations into something shareable. That awareness tends to nudge Schulz higher in personal rankings: he stops being just “the Peanuts guy” and becomes a meticulous craftsman who quietly chronicled mid-20th-century American life.
Ultimately, the most meaningful ranking isn’t where Schulz lands on a list of “Top Cartoonists Ever,” but how his work sits in individual memory. For some, Peanuts is the soundtrack of childhood mornings; for others, it’s a comforting rediscovery in adulthood. Whether a reader connects most with Snoopy’s swagger, Linus’s doubt, Lucy’s blunt honesty, or Charlie Brown’s endless attempts to do the right thing, those personal opinions form a living legacy one that continues to grow every time a new reader encounters four simple panels and thinks, “Wow. That’s me.”