Deanna Morse
ASIFA/Central, the midwest USA chapter
Animator and Professor at Grand Valley State University, Michigan

It was a treat to serve on the ASIFA International Board with Lou Hertz this past couple of years. He had a quick laugh and an easy smile. His southern drawl was like a drop of honey on his sensible and useful comments. We will miss him.

Caricature of Lou by Ward Jenkins. Courtesy of Ward Jenkins.

John Ryan
Animator
DAGNABIT!

To Lou,

Your wisdom is not lost on me. I know what you were up to, my friend. You recreated yourself as a cartoon character, because we all know toons don’t die (except in Bakshi movies). You will be with us forever. Everyone I spoke to this morning had a funny or touching Lou story to tell. We thank you for that, boobie!

I know... I coulda been a dentist!

A letter I wrote to my son, Lucas (23 and a recent graduate of Savannah College of Art & Design’s animation program)…

Luke — I know you were a little reluctant to come along with us yesterday to Lou Hertz’ memorial service. You had met him on a few occasions and heard his name mentioned, but you didn’t really know the guy. I’m glad you decided to go. You know we always take you to the most interesting places. When I asked you to attend, I realized this was something you had not experienced before… the whole funeral thing. Fact is, no two are alike, but the best ones seem to be more a celebration of the person’s life than a tearful, wailing, breast-beating sorrowfest.

It is often amusing to see the designated holy person try to put the loved one’s life in perspective. In this case the closest thing the rabbi could find to an animator in Biblical times was a self-possessed “circle maker” trying to make it rain. Talk about doing something so well that they have to make a job for you. Maybe that’s what the lesson was all about in that cryptic parable. I certainly don’t mean to belittle the rabbi’s attempt, as we know, precious few have a handle on just what we do for a living. More to the point were the family words of the daughter and #1 granddaughter. Especially quoting his wife Judy, “He had a blast!”

We should all aspire to that epitaph. I think you got a sense of the size of the Atlanta “animation community” by the turnout surrounding the family tent. I know you recognized a lot of familiar faces. Clearly, many people cared about this man. I’m sure his family was comforted to know he had touched so many lives. I reflected on the notion that a lot of these folks are connected to or actively engaged in the artform known as “the illusion of life.” But the man they came to honor showed them by his example that one could also truly live his life, fully and with gusto.

I think that about sums it up. Thanks for coming along. DAD

Jai Husband
Animation Director
Turner Studios

Ten years ago this year I met Lou Hertz. I had just returned to Atlanta for my final year at Morehouse, having just finished a year off working at Walt Disney Feature Animation. I was returning to Atlanta reluctantly because I wanted to stay and continue working at Disney, but my mother gave me the greatest guilt trip in the history of mankind about wasting the money my folks had spent on the first three years and not finishing.

So, I came back to finish school, but wanted to find some place in Atlanta where I could continue to work in animation and get experience, which I doubted was possible. An Internet search found a listing for DESIGNefx Studios in Atlanta and I called them up and got put through to a guy named Lou Hertz. He informed me that they didn’t have an official internship program at Crawford Communications (DESIGNefx’s parent company), and he couldn’t pay me, but for school credit I could come in and he’d mentor me and see if there was any work they could throw my way.

So, going to school full time and working a graveyard shift at the Quicktrip on Syndey Marcus Blvd. allowed me to come into DESIGNefx three or four days a week for six to eight hours. In no time I was doing actual production work, and that’s how I met a group of guys who were a part of what I call Atlanta’s Nine Old Men. Lou Hertz, David Strandquest, Clay Croaker, Robert Pope, John Ryan, Joe Peery and Mike Schultze. I know that’s not nine, but most of them weren’t old either, so who cares. I found in this group a crazy crew of amazing and seasoned animators — in Dixie of all places. I didn’t know animation existed south of the Mason-Dixon, and I was thrilled to be working in the industry so far from home in Southern California.

Within a couple of months I was hired right out of school by Turner Interactive to be the head animator for their new Interactive Gaming division, but I was permanently adopted by Lou, and a staple part of this crusty legion of animators. The Atlanta Animation industry is quite small, so though our little family was dispersed and reassembled by layoffs and studio changes over the next couple of years, one was never far from the sage guidance and slapstick revelry of “Uncle Looey!”

I even had to privilege of co-teaching with Lou. We taught storyboarding at the Art Institute of Atlanta and together we pioneered the inauguration of teaching traditional animation at The Atlanta College of Art, until an opportunity to do feature work in New Zealand took me away from Atlanta for a little while. And upon my return, I found myself working with “Uncle Looey” again at Turner. We all thought that Lou was the incarnation of Mr. Magoo, and the stories that he would tell made him both a hero and an animation urban legend, like how he fared unscathed through the “Animation Depression of the Sixties” and he was the “only animator working in his craft!”

Lou Hertz was a great animator, a passionate teacher, a joyous soul and a dutiful mentor. It might seem funny to say that, because my father is a 30-year animation veteran of Disney, but when I would list a mentor in the ‘bizness,’ I’d have to say it was Lou. My dad taught me a great deal about being an artist and an animator, and got me breaks in the industry and certainly I don’t know if I’d be a “pegger” today if it weren’t for him, but Lou is my daddy in the bizness, and I already miss him. He not only touched the world and the animation industry, he touched my life in ways that are eternal. I don’t think anyone can ask for a better legacy than to leave their mark — not on just the world — but in the heart of people who will forever be changed for the better. To “Uncle Looey!”