As we neared completion of our
work on "The Rescuers", I learned that our next picture, "Pete's
Dragon" was being staffed, and Don Bluth was the Director of Animation. He
was using most of the trainees to animate the film under his instruction, and
had pulled them over to his unit for this opportunity. Ollie and Art told me
that no more animation was available on "Rescuers", so I would have
to spend about three or four more months doing follow-up work and clean-up-- or
I could try to be included on "Pete's Dragon". I hadn't spoken to Don
for almost two years! Now-- if I wanted any significant future
here at all-- I would have to heal
this rift.
I decided to approach this in a
purely professional manner. I worked on a new personal test at home that I
hoped would impress John Pomeroy, a brilliant trainee who had become a
full-fledged Animator and sequence director on the film. He was a close friend
of Don's. I'd always had a respectful rapport with John, who I knew had
advanced under his own talent and perseverance, and I trusted him to be
businesslike. I felt he would probably respond according to the merits of my
work, and if favorably impressed, he might bridge the gap.
I collected model sheets of
"Elliot" the dragon, studied his character, and conceived of an original
scene for my test. The dragon anticipated a sneeze, tried desperately to hold
his nose, but sneezed through anyway-- helplessly blasting smoke and flames from
his nostrils. When the smoke cleared, he stood there apologetically, looking
sheepish and blinking. It turned out pretty cute... having personality, timing
and humor. I had requested no assistance from any other Animator on this one,
as I wanted my bid for inclusion on the new picture to remain a secret. What if
I was rejected?
When I received my first film
loop from the editing department and threaded it up, the scene looked just the
way I had envisioned it. Could I possibly have created something which looked
that good on the very first try? That was a rare occurrence-- even for an
experienced Animator. Since time was of the essence, I took a deep breath and
headed right over to John. He and everyone else close to Don Bluth had
re-located in their own separate wing of the building... coincidentally,
dubbed, "B-wing".
Feeling like I was entering
hostile territory, I anticipated possible defensive maneuvers from the local
natives. Had I been talked about these last two years? Would someone see me
entering the hall and warn the chief of a hostile invasion? Not a soul saw me
tap on John's door, and enter to his welcoming and non-specific, "Come
in!" His eyes widened, and then softened knowingly as I peeked around the
opening door. He postured himself, back straight, chin tucked in, pale
gray-green eyes looking right into me from beneath wavy black hair and arched
brows... always the courtly gentleman with a deliberate air of self assurance.
He beckoned me in with a graceful gesture. Eyeing the film loop in my hand, he
offered, "You have a test to show me?" I nodded gratefully. John
faced his desk and continued to draw as I threaded my film onto his Movieola. His hands were fine,
elegant-- he held his pencil with as little pressure from the thumb and index
finger as possible, gliding it across the paper like a figure-skater on point,
tracing perfect curves across the ice. His draftsmanship was exquisite, and he
knew it.
"Ok John... I'm ready."
He stepped down from his chair and positioned himself beside me. I pressed my
right foot on the pedal and held my breath as "Elliot" sniffed three
times, held his finger against his nostrils, blinked, tried to hold back, and
sneezed smoke and flame into the camera. I shifted my eyes in John's direction
without moving my head, catching his warm smile. When the smoke cleared,
revealing Elliot looking self-conscious and apologetic, he chuckled warmly.
"That's really cute. Was
this your own idea?"
"Yes... I imagined this and
thought it might be fun. This is my very first version. I haven't changed
anything." He raised his eyebrow in my direction, and looked impressed.
"I heard about 'Pete's Dragon'. I was hoping a good test might earn me a
chance to work with you guys. Don and I haven't spoken in about two years.
That's why I came to you. I hoped time might have healed old wounds." I
finally stopped rattling on and waited for his response.
"I heard about all
that." His tone indicated a tense refusal to discuss it further. Pause. I
looked at the floor-- wondering how Don had presented his own point of view, and
if John agreed with him. I sensed that the tension accrued from not wanting to
take sides. "I'll take this in to Don right now.",
he offered, warmth sifting back into his voice. "Wait here."
As John decisively left the room
I fought back tears. His kindness seemed to evaporate any defenses I'd
maintained. I quivered inside. About five minutes later, John reentered alone,
but smiling. He told me that Don was heading right into Ed Hansen's office to
have me transferred from "The Rescuers" onto this picture, and to
come back to his room next morning to receive an assignment. When I stepped
back out of John's room, I saw Don's back as he strode briskly down the hall
and turned into Ed Hansen's office. I was at my desk for only a few minutes
before the phone rang, and Ed called me in to see him. He seemed happy to give
me the good news, and I was overly conscious of my own irrepressible relief and
happiness. It embarrassed me.
***
I could hardly sleep that night,
and the old emotions welled up with newfound intensity. Don Bluth wanted me
back! I had vivid fantasies about walking into his room and meeting his gaze
with mine. Without uttering a word, he would send his Assistant Director on
some trumped-up errand, lock the door, and I would capture his glance just
before collapsing into his waiting arms. Passionate tears would be shed in a unison of realization that we were meant for each other now that I was single again!
I selected one of my best outfits
that morning, and my intestines knotted up all the way down the freeway to Buena
Vista Street. I had to take a detour to the
bathroom before I could even progress to B-wing. I strolled into Don's room,
feigning nonchalance. It was choked with people. The Assistant Director, Rick
Rich, busied himself with Exposure Sheets at the table next to the wall, and
another animation trainee stood at Don's desk, receiving suggestions. I awaited
my turn. When the other young, aspiring Animator headed off with his stack of
drawings, I moved gently over to Don, afraid to look at him now that the moment
was nigh. He kept facing his desk and flipping his drawings. I stood there
quietly