Frank shows Gary a thing or two about animation.

Just as luck would have it, Frank was also scheduled for a vacation. He and his wife were leaving for a two-week holiday in Japan with Ollie Johnston and his wife. As he was leaving the building he dropped by my desk to assign me my first official scene for the film, Robin Hood. In front of me, on a sheet of multi-pan layout paper he drew a long line describing the path of action for four children characters. Included in the scene were Frank’s animation of individual run cycles with drawings about four inches tall, all separate, of the characters running in place, on “ones.” The assignment was to redraw the characters about one inch high following Skippy, a young rabbit who had received a new bow and arrow from Robin Hood, along the line Frank had drawn, to a knoll on the other side of the paper. Next, animate the younger toddler character, Tagalong, trailing way behind the three and then catching up as they slowed down to go up the hill. My head was already spinning when he asked me to do the math for the scene plan. What?! I had only two weeks to get this scene finished and shot as a pencil test on film before he returned. I was totally overwhelmed.

The scene totaled 512 individual drawings (on ones) with all of the characters on the same sheets of paper. Needless to say, after he left for vacation, I arrived at work by 6:00 am every morning and worked well beyond 5:00 pm for the next two weeks. When Frank returned, I nervously (that self-doubt, vomit thing) ran the scene on Frank’s movieola. He approved it on the spot! What a relief! He approved the animation and the camera move, which consisted of a pan following the characters’ action across the screen then trucked in closer to the characters as they ascended the knoll. He told me, “From now on, you plan all of my scenes.” I was blown away. He asked to see the actual drawings and, after examining them, told me that no cleanup would be necessary. “These drawings will go straight in for Xeroxing to cels.” Wow. For the duration of the animation schedule on Robin Hood, I was attached to Frank Thomas.

I was totally in awe of this man. He had worked on almost every feature that Disney produced and was key to some of the most beautiful scenes in Pinocchio, Bambi and Lady and the Tramp, not to mention the incredibly emotional funeral scene of all the Dwarfs mourning Snow White’s death. That scene had earned Frank the number one credit on the list of animators for that film.

Every scene he did was so real. His understanding of drawing in the round or with depth and dimension was outstanding. He would come into my office and repeatedly remind me to turn off the backlight. “Turn off the backlight. You need to get used to feeling the movement and really understand the timing charts. It’s not just about putting drawings in-between my drawings; it’s about helping me bring it to life. Avoid being mechanical. Avoid tracing between drawings. Imitate the animator’s drawings.” Whatever his rumored past, I found him very instructive and ready to help in any way. His drawing style wasn’t heavy with design like, say, Milt Kahl, but it was extremely dimensional and he had a great sense of entertainment. Another great asset was his musical knowledge and experience, especially when it came to creating texture and contrast in timing. He was always patient and calm with all the young animators, even when we broke into one of our rubber-band fights. Always observant and aware, he would incorporate traits of those around him into the personalities of the characters he animated.

Once a highly focused and disciplined animator, with little tolerance for failure, he was now a calm and mature artistic leader. He told me a story about one of the instances that helped him to become a more patient person and animator. He said he almost suffered a nervous breakdown over the scene of another animator in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in 1937. It was the scene where the Dwarfs were returning to their cottage and singing “Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it’s home from work we go…” They were marching over a fallen log. It was an upshot, and to Frank the Dwarfs appeared off-balance, leaning forward too much. He thought that it looked bad, was upset about it, and wasted no opportunity to share this opinion with others, including Walt Disney himself. He finally mused that some people probably thought he needed to be committed to an institution. The drawings were never corrected.

Years later, at one of our weekly screenings for the training program, they showed us Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Frank sat next to me for the entire screening. When it was over, he said, “That wasn’t so bad. In fact, it’s pretty good. Better than I remembered it.” Pretty good? What these men had achieved some 35 years before was absolutely incredible! Were they really expecting us fledglings to be able to take on these responsibilities by the time they were ready to retire?! That would give us only five or six years to prepare. Scary.