Jack Enyart motivates the struggling artist with solid professional advice in his audiotape Your Art Dream. Drawing by Brandon Morino. © Jack Enyart 2003.

A glance at the history of employment patterns in the animation business would not instantly summon up the word “stability.” In the earliest days of one-shot novelty films (Humourous Phases of Funny Faces, Little Nemo, et cetera), not very much in the way of compensation or job security went to the producer or artist, who was usually one and the same. As the 20th century rolled along and Colonel Heeza Liar, Bobby Bumps, Commodore Buckeye the Braggart and a giggle of familiar characters from the funny pages began appearing on the silver screen, cartoon series were ordered up on a season to season basis. And why not? Legit theatre bookings were planned seasonally (Broadway pretty much closed down for the summer heatwaves). Same with Vaudeville houses, burlesque houses and the amusement parks. Year-to-year seasonal work was good enough for the likes of James O’Neill when he was planning his 4,800th performance of The Count of Monte Cristo. It was profitable enough for that enterprising agent William Morris when he was lining up kilted client Harry Lauder’s triumphal tours of the States. It was adequate enough for the Salome dancers when they were powdering their Anna Held beauty marks in preparation for another spin on the Columbia wheel. And it certainly made sense to the Schenck Brothers as they prepared next summer’s aeronautical wonder to lure the sweltering escapees of Manhattan to their Palisades Park in New Jersey. Of COURSE animation work was seasonal. ALL theatre bookings were seasonal. All of show biz was seasonal. Hey, all of nature was seasonal. The paper-flipping scribblers who toiled away on the Bringing Up Father, Mutt and Jeff or Happy Hooligan film cartoons would no more expect long-term contracts than legit audiences of the period would expect actor DeWolf Hopper NOT to favor them with a curtain-call recitation of Casey at the Bat!

Always of a Seasonal Nature
A quarter of a century ago, Disney’s was the only studio providing decades-long security to artists working the animation racket. Oh sure, there were a few year-round jobs to be had at Hanna-Barbara, but most of that studio’s output was tied to television’s seasonal needs. Layoffs were expected by most after a season’s work was finished.

About a decade ago a film called The Lion King made an unexpectedly large amount of money. More notably, it made an unexpectedly large amount of profit. It was, and pardon me if you’ve already heard rumors to this effect, an animated film made by employees of Disney’s feature animation division. The Bambi Meets Kimba success spawned not only long lines at the box office, but a new kind of Gold Fever. Suddenly, studios were trying to out-bid each other for animation talent in a new — delusional as it turned out — box office gold rush. There was actual competition for feature animation talent! DreamWorks SKG, newly formed, brought out a checkbook and waved it, along with matching long-term contracts, in the faces of perennially under-valued Disney animators. Other studios — Warner’s, Fox, Turner — were competing for the same moving-picture delineators. Agents and other middle-men entered the picture. Salaries went up.

That was then, as a couple of Monkees used to sing at the time, and this is now. The last couple of years has been a real eye opener for many. Profits from animated features, for whatever reason, never approached the level executives were gambling on. Such worthies as the next 30 generations or so of Disney CEO Michael Eisner’s descendants will be able to live well off of the loot pulled from that company’s coffers. But it’s a different story for most of those among us today who toiled on the other side of the Magic Kingdom’s tracks (read: former denizens of Flower Street in Glendale or of the architectural curiosity in Burbank which shouts the word “ANIMATION” to freeway travelers). Kids who were hired during their sophomore year out of CalArts, who signed multi-year contracts with a studio, who got married, who bought houses and who just recently started having families of their own have been laid off left and right. Some have left the business. Some have left Los Angeles. Many are on the cusp of something, but aren’t quite sure what.