I loved Cheaper by the Dozen growing up. My mom read it aloud to us, and my brother and I were simultaneously grateful for our small family and jealous of the Gilbreths. To this day, the book still makes me cry with laughter until my entire abdomen hurts and my lungs burn for air. I’m not sure I could get through reading this aloud because I would laugh so much.
Over a century after the time period it depicts, Cheaper by the Dozen remains poignant and funny. Lillian and Frank seem like modern parents, not always presenting a unified front, but open about their love for each other and their many children. Frank Gilbreth, remembered by his children, is an unforgettable character. (Since some of his children were quite young when he passed away, I imagine the stories that went into this book helped the youngest “know” their father.) He is just as mischievous as his dozen, and he finds the most creative ways to teach his careless children life skills.
Once again, I must resolve to learn more about Lillian Moller Gilbreth. She deserves a place in my history of women in STEM collection. The Gilbreth methods of management sound useful even today, with their priority on “the human element” and dedication to reducing worker fatigue. Every once in a while, when I find a more efficient way of completing a mundane task, I feel a Gilbreth smiling on me warmly. (Like Frank, “efficient” is the magic word for my husband, also an engineer.) I can only imagine what the big tech world would be like with Gilbrethian architects. Imagine if our email apps were designed for efficiency rather than addiction, if social media was designed for human connection rather than addiction, if smart devices in the home were designed for usefulness rather than addiction…alas. These things are supposed to make our lives easier, not to override executive function and addict our brains!
Because Cheaper by the Dozen is such a good read-aloud, I would also urge those going through it with young readers to preview the material and plan what to skip. Lillian’s visit from a birth control activist is h i l a r i o u s but may go over the heads of little readers, and this really isn’t the place to begin a conversation about Margaret Sanger and her eugenics scheme. The Peeping Tom scene is uproarious, a satisfying comeuppance tale, but I’m glad my mom skipped it when she read it to us because it would have terrified me as a young girl who wasn’t blessed with a bevy of siblings to defend my honor against a skunk. And the few evidences of racism can be skipped without confusion to the story, if the young readers are in an imitating stage, not quite ready for rational discussion about such things. There are two particularly mean-spirited scenes, one with a Chinese cook with the Gilbreths visit the Mollers in California, and one where both Dad and Mother imitate vaudeville blackface acts in the chapter on family performances and recitation.
Cheaper by the Dozen has never been satisfactorily adapted on screen for me. The key lies in casting Dad. The 2000s Disney movies didn’t make a pretense of adhering to the books, but Steve Martin could have made a passable Gilbreth, had he been allowed to be the mischievous, boisterous Dad rather than the pranked-upon father of the film. The 1950s films do a passable job of recreating the story, but the casting of Clifton Webb is simply a desecration upon the real person. Webb lacks the body type, along with Gilbreth’s charisma. Webb brings a stiffness and starchiness to the character that ruins it for me. However, Cheaper by the Dozen was made into a stage play, and I think I may have seen a school production of it ages ago, but I might be thinking of the whistling assembly scene in The Sound of Music. The story would be smashing onstage, with the right actor having a blast in the role of Gilbreth. Live performance would capture the essence of the book, which is chaos narrowly restrained by familial affection and two engineers’ best efforts.