Cheaper by the Dozen is a biographical book written by Frank Bunker Gilbreth, Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey that tells the story of time and motion study and efficiency experts Frank Bunker Gilbreth and Lillian Moller Gilbreth, and their twelve children. The book focuses on the many years the family resided in Montclair, New Jersey. It was adapted to film by Twentieth Century Fox in 1950.
The title comes from one of Frank Sr.'s favorite jokes: it often happened that when he and his family were out driving and stopped at a red light, a pedestrian would ask, "Hey, Mister! How come you got so many kids?" Gilbreth would pretend to ponder the question carefully, and then, just as the light turned green, would say, "Well, they come cheaper by the dozen, you know," and drive off.
In real life, the Gilbreths' second eldest child, Mary, died of diphtheria at age five. The book does not explicitly explain the absence of Mary Gilbreth; it was not until the sequel, Belles on Their Toes, was published that her death is mentioned in a footnote.
Belles on Their Toes, published in 1950, outlines the family's adventures after Frank Sr.'s death in 1924. Belles on Their Toes was also made into a movie, starring Jeanne Crain and Myrna Loy, in 1952. This film focuses on the lives of Mrs. Gilbreth and her children.
Read more about Cheaper By The Dozen: Film Adaptations
Famous quotes containing the words cheaper by, cheaper and/or dozen:
“If there be any man who thinks the ruin of a race of men a small matter, compared with the last decoration and completions of his own comfort,—who would not so much as part with his ice- cream, to save them from rapine and manacles, I think I must not hesitate to satisfy that man that also his cream and vanilla are safer and cheaper by placing the negro nation on a fair footing than by robbing them.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
“I hate flowers—I paint them because they’re cheaper than models and they don’t move.”
—Georgia O’Keeffe (1887–1986)
“I will venture to affirm, that the three seasons wherein our corn has miscarried did no more contribute to our present misery, than one spoonful of water thrown upon a rat already drowned would contribute to his death; and that the present plentiful harvest, although it should be followed by a dozen ensuing, would no more restore us, than it would the rat aforesaid to put him near the fire, which might indeed warm his fur-coat, but never bring him back to life.”
—Jonathan Swift (1667–1745)