Howard Beckerman's Experience with Cels
In a recent issue of Museum Magazine, Leonard Maltin relates the story of the rise in public interest in obtaining cartoon cels and their ascending prices. He details the now common story of how this daily production art was often discarded or destroyed after the completion of a film and how even those most closely connected with it were not concerned with what happened to all of it. Today, it is not unusual for a cel and background combination from a classic '30s cartoon to sell in the neighborhood of $4,000.
Maltin expresses the same dismay that many others have in the fact that not only are these examples of animation art being grabbed up at galleries and auctions at high prices, but that of the thousands of pieces that were made over the last 50 years, so little remains. He quotes a few prominent animators such as Chuck Jones of Road Runner fame and Frank Thomas a longtime Disney directing animator, who explain the reasons why this came about.
Attitude Changes
Heading the list was the attitude, as expressed by Frank Thomas, that, "None of us thought of what we were doing as art...the form in which we were working was held in low esteem." Chuck Jones adds that the cost of warehousing thousands of paper and cel drawings was considered impractical by producers and during the '30s and '40s it was also common practice to wash off the cels and reuse them in future productions.
Reading through Maltin's article with its handsome reproductions, reminded me of my own early experiences with cels and how these experiences coincide with some of the reasons they are so scarce.
The first time I saw a cel was in a film trailer made to announce the release of “ Snow White." It showed people working on the thousands of drawings that went into the final production. There was something tantalizing about the shiny, see-through material that had these col-orful little characters inscribed on it. Most of us kids in the audience weren't too sure what these celluloids were used for, but when we saw them placed over beautifully rendered backgrounds for the film, we began to get the basic idea.
Disney Cel
A few years later while in high school, a friend of mine acquired a cel setup that had been used in Disney's "Pinocchio." I never quite understood exactly how he came by this cel. It contained a magnificent pan background and overlaying art depicting an underwater scene replete with many colored fishes. My friend claimed to have met Walt Disney at an exhibit of many sample setups which were being offered for sale. His father had seen a notice in the newspaper and after taking him there, Disney gave him this autographed, matted, original. Whether such an event actually took place was of least importance to those of us who used to drop over to his house periodically just to stare at this wonderful thing. There was still something tantalizing about those shiny cels bearing the inked and colored cartoon drawings.
A short time later, while browsing in a photo store in the financial district, my eye was struck by two familiar shiny objects in a display case. Two cels from a 1930's MGM cartoon production of a Buck Cheezer short were on view to aid in the selling of home movie versions of these films.
Not For Sale
I returned to the store many times just to look at these examples of assembly line cartoon production. They weren't matted. In fact they looked a little the worse for wear. One had a small tear on the corner, but there they were, in all of their shiny magnificence, peg holes and all. I decided to ask if they were for sale. I assumed that nobody else would even be interested in them. I weighed my $l allowance and decided to offer the dealer 25 cents apiece for them, and if he balked I would go as high as 75 cents. I was prepared however to extend myself to the limit of a dollar and a quarter, but I wasn't going to let on. Unfortunately all of these calculations were for naught, the cels were not for sale. They belonged to the film company and had to go back to them.
Soon after this I did find the Disney cels that were being offered for sale at the Kennedy Galleries on 59th Street, which were probably the remainder of the sets that were related to the one that my friend had acquired. These were examples of the kind of thing that would be selling in four figures today. At that time though, these matted background and cel combinations from Dumbo, Donald Duck, Mickey Mouse and Goofy cartoons were being offered for between $15 and $40. Since I was a big spender at $1.25, certainly $15 was beyond my reach. The thing that I remember was that whenever I stopped in to look at these setups, I never saw anyone else show the slightest bit of interest in them.
It seemed that the acquisition of cels would continue to allude me. Then I entered the animation field. My first assignment at Terry-Toons in New Rochelle was to separate the camera ready cels from their accompanying drawings and protective cels called "slip cels." The use of "slip cels" were necessitated by the nature of the paint that was used at that time and which when in contact with the animator's paper drawing would somehow result in the fading of the color. Old cels that were no longer clear would be slipped in between the freshly painted new ones and these "slip-cels" had to be removed before the scenes were shot.
After all those fruitless years of searching for shiny, original cels, I found myself sitting at a table with not just a few cels, but piles of cels. There were cels to the right of me, cels to the left of me and cels directly in front of me. When these cels were taken to the camera room, other cels took their place. This went on all day, all week and all month. I began to see that if something didn't interrupt this flow of acetate this would go on for a whole year. Also there is an odor that stacks of painted acetate sheets give off. I can still remember the smell of those old slip cels and I don't recall it with relish. I was like the kid that gets locked overnight in the chocolate factory. You get the idea.
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