Read Working with Disney Online
Authors: Don Peri
Working with Disney (3 page)
The 1950s saw a major resurgence of activity at the Disney Studio. Animated features returned in full force with
Cinderella
(1950),
Alice in Wonderland
(1951),
Peter Pan
(1953),
Lady and the Tramp
(1955), and
Sleeping Beauty
(1959). Walt also produced live-action films, starting with
Treasure Island
(1950) and a host of films shot in Great Britain as well as
Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea
(1954),
The Shaggy Dog
(1959),
Third Man on the Mountain
(1959), and many more. He also moved into the nature and documentary field with the True-Life Adventures and the People and Places series. What Baby Boomer could forget Walt's entrance into the television arena with
Disneyland, The Mickey Mouse Club,
and
Zorro?
And, of course, Disneyland opened right in the middle of the decade on July 17, 1955.
The 1960s carried right on with more animated and live-action features, culminating in
Mary Poppins
(1964), Disney exhibits at the New York World's Fair, and early work on what would become Walt Disney
World in Florida. Much to the sorrow of his family and friends, his staff, and all those whose lives he touched, Walt Disney passed away on December 15, 1966.
Walt Disney was a major figure of the twentieth century and a powerful force in the world of popular culture. But the stories in this book are also about the man. Walt rose from modest beginnings to the top of his field, making his story a manifestation of the American Dream. In many ways, he personifies a Horatio Alger hero, exemplifying the “ABCs of success” (Ability, Breaks, and Courage). Walt was a shrewd judge of his own ability and that of others and pushed himself and them to unimagined heights. He benefited from some breaks, like the profusion of artists available and eager to work during the Great Depression, but he also made his own breaks. He was constantly striving for something better, from sound to color to personality animation to increased realism in his cartoons, to feature-length animated films, to live-action films, to television, to theme parks, to trying to solve the plight of our cities. His were “Walt-made” breaks. He had the courage of his convictions. He took on new challenges and made animation into an art form. He persevered when the pundits were assailing him with choruses of Disney's Folly, because he believed in himself and he succeeded. And Walt liked people. That trait may appear unremarkable, but many of his decisions, both in the early days of his studio with his staff and later at Disneyland, were driven by his philosophy of giving people more than they expected. He cared about people, and they responded and reciprocated.
In 1997, I was so fortunate to meet Diane Disney Miller, Walt's daughter. Our ensuing friendship and professional collaboration led to my involvement with the Walt Disney Family Foundation and its production of a CD biography of Walt Disney,
Walt Disney: An Intimate History of the Man and His Magic,
that was introduced at a special event at Disneyland. In June 2000, the foundation invited me to participate in a documentary,
Walt: The Man behind the Myth.
And in October 2009, the foundation opened the Walt Disney Family Museum in San Francisco. The museum is spectacular and worthy of such a figure as Walt Disney. Walking through the museumâonly twenty-five miles from
where I grew up and first discovered the Disney magicâand seeing photos of so many people I had met over the years and again hearing their voices, I felt truly grateful to all of them for allowing me to come closer to a world within my world where the wonder and excitement of childhood still lives.
SWEATBOX
was used as both a noun and a verb by Disney veterans. Originally, the sweatbox was a tiny room about the size of a closet. The closet became a makeshift projection room in the early 1930s at the Hyperion studio site. Animators would sweat because of the closeness of the room and/or because of the anxiety of having their work analyzed and scrutinized. Even after the move to the Burbank studio and spacious projection rooms, the term
sweatbox
was still used.
Sweatbox
became a verb when someone would sweatbox a work in progress or analyze it to see if it was ready to move on to the next stage of production.
INBETWEENERS
animate the fine gradations of movement in between the extremes made by an animator.
BREAKDOWN
is an intermediate drawing between the animator's key drawings.
LAYOUT ARTISTS
create the set in pencil where the animation action will occur.
BACKGROUND ARTISTS
paint the opaque scenes that appear behind the animated cels and are involved with the color styling of the scene.
CLEAN UP ARTISTS
refine the animator's rough drawings into a finished drawing that will appear in the film.
INKERS AND PAINTERS
transfer the cleanup drawings to transparent celluloid. Inkers trace the drawings on the front of the celluloid or cels, and the painters fill in the color on the reverse side.
THE TRAFFIC DEPARTMENT
included entry-level staffers at the Disney Studios who literally moved materials from one department to another. Many Disney artists began in the Traffic Department and praised their tenure there as a great way for them to learn about all the facets of animation production and get a sense of where they might best fit in.
WED [WALTER ELIAS DISNEY] ENTERPRISES
was the design and development company founded by Walt Disney in December 1952. It was initially involved with the design of Disneyland. Walt sold WED to Walt Disney Productions (later the Walt Disney Company) in 1965. WED moved from the Burbank studio site to Glendale, California, in 1961 and is now known as Walt Disney Imagineering.
UPA (UNITED PRODUCTIONS OF AMERICA)
was an American studio started in the 1940s that pioneered significant new directions in animation styling, content, and technique.
Gerald McBoingBoing,
an Academy Awardâwinning short subject (1950), brought UPA to the attention of the animation world. UPA is also well remembered for its Mr. Magoo cartoons. Amid Amidi's
Cartoon Modern
is an excellent resource for more information about UPA.
I believe that history is interactive, and while I have tried to ensure the accuracy of names and dates referenced in the interviews, the stories are more challenging. How someone remembers an event may be as significant as what really happened. Readers who are curious need to do some follow-up on their ownâin a sense, verifying if what they have been told in the interview is correct. Does the story match what they have previously heard or read? Is this a new facet to a familiar story, or does the account demonstrate the effects of time on memory? Is the version presented in the interview wishful thinking, or could it be the rounding of edges as stories move along through the years? Readers should remember that everyone likes to present themselves in the best possible light.
Working with Disney
Frank Thomas was born on September 5, 1913, in Fresno, California. Interested in art at an early age, he attended Fresno State College and Stanford University, where he met Ollie Johnston, who would become a lifelong friend and a fellow animator. Frank subsequently studied at Chouinard Art Institute in Los Angeles. On September 24, 1934, Frank joined the Walt Disney Studio as employee 224, thereby beginning what would be one of the most celebrated careers in animation. After working on short subjects, Frank joined the team on Disney's first feature-length film,
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,
where his animation of the dwarfs grieving at Snow White's bier was a breakthrough that brought audiences to tears. Over his forty-five-year career, Frank set a standard of sincerity in animation that few others could meet and none could surpass. He was a key figure on almost every Disney animation feature produced during that period, including
Pinocchio, Bambi, The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad, Cinderella, Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan, Lady and the Tramp, Sleeping Beauty, 101 Dalmatians
(1961),
The Sword in the Stone
(1963),
Mary Poppins, The Jungle Book
(1967),
The Rescuers
(1977), and
The Fox and the Hound
(1981). One of Walt Disney's Nine Old Men of Animation, Frank's influence
on the industry is immeasurable. When he and Ollie retired, they continued to provide guidance to animation through the books they authored:
Disney Animation: The Illusion of Life, Too Funny for Words, Walt Disney's Bambi: The Story and the Film,
and
The Disney Villain.
Frank was inducted as a Disney Legend in 1989 and passed away on September 8, 2004. He and Ollie Johnston profoundly influenced subsequent generations of animators, and Brad Bird has given them cameo animated appearances in two of his films, Warner Bros.'
The Iron Giant
and Pixar's
The Incredibles.
I interviewed Frank at the Walt Disney Studios on March 26, 1976. He was only my fourth interview so I was still on a steep learning curve. But he was generous in allotting me time during his working day. According to my notes about my visit,
Frank Thomas was standing out in front of the Animation Building [after the guard had called him upon my arrival] and met me there. We went in and walked down a hall adorned with an aerial photo of the studio, early photographs of Walt and his staff, some beautiful backgrounds and set-ups from
Cinderella
and all of the major releases, and a lot of cels from this new movie they are working on,
The Rescuers.
[In Frank's office,] there was a big drawing board with a drawing on it that looked like a knee joint or maybe a knot on a tree, drawn in blue pencil. I really couldn't tell because it hadn't been finished. Part of a human skull was on top of a stack of papers. There were some drawings of a gorilla. Silver model heads of the three fairies from
Sleeping Beauty
sat on top of a cabinet behind his drawing board. There was also a movieola right behind the chair where I sat. It was bigger and more complicated than I had imagined.
This first interview led to warm friendship with Frank over the years, in which we kept in touch by mail and occasionally in person, usually through the wonderful hospitality of Howard Green, who would arrange dinners with Frank and Ollie and their wives and with Joe Grant. I treasure Frank's letters
that were filled with news, enthusiasm, self-deprecating humor, advice, and an occasional irresistible barb that was so typical of him. Our Christmas card usually has a photo of my family in front of our 1938 Standard Oil Santa Claus. One year, we did something different, and I heard about it from Frank right away. So every year for the rest of his life, we made sure the Santa was featured on our card and we have kept it there ever since in Frank's memory. I feel honored to have known Frank for almost thirty years.
DP:
What was your first impression of Walt Disney?
FT:
I think I was probably more impressed with his product than I was with him as a person. I didn't have very much contact with him. You know, I'd see him around the halls, and he seemed to be a nice enough guy. He'd say “Hi,” and I'd say “Hi.” But there wasn't anything until I got further along. I was working for Freddy Moore. He had a lot of footage on a picture with the little pigs [
Three Little Wolves
(1936)]. It was more than one guy would normally turn out. I was responsible for about two hundred feet or something like that. Walt called me in because he thought it ought to be divided to get the picture out: “You've more than you can handle.” I said, “Gee, I don't [think so],” because I wanted to do it myself. I thought I was the only guy who could do it, naturally, because Freddy had told me how he wanted it. Actually, I wasn't that good, but I didn't realize it then. So that was probably the first time I talked to Walt. He gave me a long piercing look and said, “Well, okay, if you think you can do it, we'll let you try.” So all my first meetings with him were very favorable that way. He seemed to have a good impression. He seemed to like what I was doing and believed in what I was saying, which is more than I did. So I didn't get into any kind of pressure situations with him. It was all just a good pleasant relationship for a long time.
DP:
I guess when you came to Disney, he was already well established. Did he seem to fit the image that you had in your mind, or did he seem more down-to-earth than you might have thought?
FT:
Maybe I was awfully naive, but I didn't really think that much about people and what they were like. You see, I'd come down here to go to art school. First of all, I wanted to be an industrial designer. Then I was talked into switching over to magazine illustration. Cartoon[ing] had always been fun for me, but I never thought of it as a lifework. Here's a chance to do that. I just wasn't sure that I wanted to stay with this business, yet every day it got more interesting, more intriguing to me. The further I went in it, the more I was hooked on the thing. So Walt was just another guy who was making a success of what he was doing. I don't know, maybe I thought of him like a teacher I had at college or something of that sort. He was young, and he wasn't a boss behind a desk and didn't smoke cigars or a pipe [although he was a heavy cigarette smoker]. There was nothing about the image. He was just a guy who worked with you. I would hear stories about things he had done to someone or how mad he'd got. He didn't always get mad; he had other ways of dealing with it! The guys would try to put things over on him or get by with something.
What kind of personality? Boy, it was years later before I really began to be aware of that. Since he's gone and looking back on the things he did now that we have the problems that he had, we begin to say, “God, how did he do it? How did he handle it? How did he keep twelve hundred people all working on a product and know which each one was on? How could his mind conceive of this? His personnel workâhow could he pick out what was the right way to go with something?”
