Inkwell

Part One: In the Beginning

One hundred years ago, in 1921, Max and Dave Fleischer rented a New York City basement apartment, hired a single employee, and Out of the Inkwell Studios was born. Today the studio is best known by the name it adopted in 1929, and holds to this day, Fleischer Studios.

Wildly creative and technically innovative, the “Out of the Inkwell” years (1921-1929) were responsible for some of the most iconic animated films of the century, the first use of synchronized sound, the invention of the bouncing ball, and the development of techniques that continue to shape the look, feel and sound of film to this day.

We begin the celebration of our centennial anniversary with the first in a series of stories tracking the remarkable journey of Out of the Inkwell Studios; a scrappy basement start-up that would go on to become one of the most influential animation studios of the 20th Century.

The Bray Years

Even before launching their first studio, Max and Dave had created 12 “Out of the Inkwell Series” cartoons for Bray Studios. J.R. Bray hired Max, who he’d worked with years earlier at the Brooklyn Eagle, after rather fortuitously running into Max outside the office of Adolph Zukor where Max was waiting for the chance to interest the movie magnate in his invention, the rotoscope. Max had already spent two years trying, unsuccessfully, to get his invention off the ground. The rotoscope enabled animators to create characters that moved with remarkably lifelike fluidity, but the process of creating rotoscoped films was slow, precise, painstaking and was ultimately viewed as an interesting, but not practical, gimmick by major film studios. J.R. Bray, himself a pioneer of early animation, saw potential in Max’s invention, and his inventiveness. And it wasn’t long before Dave joined his brother at Bray.

J.R. Bray

The film the Fleischer brothers created to demonstrate the rotoscope featured the antics of a playful, remarkably lifelike, clown modeled on Dave who had worked as a clown at Coney Island’s Steeplechase Amusement Park, and still had the costume. Remarkably, this clown, initially created to demonstrate Max’s invention, and the inkwell from which it emerged, would become the hallmarks of the Fleischer’s iconic rubber hose style of animation and their urban, sometimes gritty, often surreal sensibility that is known today as “East Coast” animation.

Along with his other assignments, Max produced more than a dozen “Out of the Inkwell” films for Bray Studios between 1918 and 1921. The “Little Clown,” as he was then known, and his hijinks -often at the expense of his creator, played by Max- quickly became an audience favorite and the brothers seemed poised for their first big hit. At the same time, Bray Studios found itself tangled in a series of contractual and legal issues that impacted everything from the funding to the distribution of new films.

Out of the Inkwell

Max and Dave (likely around 1919)

Even with the rising popularity of their “Out of the Inkwell” series, launching an independent animation studio was a bold and risky enterprise.

The first problem would be funding. The brothers didn’t have much in the way of savings and had already invested much of what they did have (including a secret stash of $150 in household money from Max’s wife Essie) on building, testing, and patenting Max’s rotoscope. In fact, some believe that Dave’s initial share of investment in the studio was funded by a lucky day at the racetrack.

The hours would be grueling. It took one year for the brothers to complete their first rotoscoped film in 1915. The one-minute film required a staggering 2,500 images to complete. The brothers had made great strides in streamlining this process while at Bray and were turning out one Inkwell film per month by the time they left in 1921. But achieving this level of productivity with just Max, Dave, a single employee (animation photographer Charlie Schettler), would be a whole different story.

In addition to the time and expense involved in the production of animated films, there were the physical hazards. The film was highly flammable, and the ink and chemicals used throughout the animation process contained dangerous, and often highly flammable fumes as well. The Studio’s first home, in a dingy basement apartment below a brothel at 129 East 45th Street, was clearly not an ideal setting for an enterprise that required long hours, good light, and plenty of ventilation.

Then there was the problem of distribution. Larger studios, like Bray, worked with teams of animators to keep new material, and necessary funding, flowing fast enough to meet an ever-increasing demand… and even with an impressive stable of ambitious and innovative animators at its disposal, Bray struggled to meet commitments.

But, remarkably, by the start of 1938, the now renamed Fleischer Studios, had taken over four floors at 1600 Broadway and had over 250 employees. By the end of that same year, they’d moved the entire studio from New York City into an enormous, state-of-the art facility in Miami, Florida where they soon employed a staff of more than 700.

How did they do it?

We’ll be spending the rest of this landmark 100th anniversary year sharing stories, photos and films that reflect on the Fleischer’s “Out of the Inkwell” years, and how the journey that started in a New York basement, one hundred years ago, changed the face of modern animation.

The staff gathers for a holiday party at the Paramount Hotel in 1936

Pre-Inkwell Press

The two articles below, published while Max and Dave were still working at Bray Studios, speak to the public's fascination with, and hunger for, animated films featuring Max Fleischer and the "Little Clown."

Go to:

Part Two

Part Three

Part four