The Oscar Built of Clay

In the winter of 1975, I was a sophomore majoring in communications at Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon. Among the courses I was enrolled in that semester was one called Writing for Publication, taught by a dynamic young instructor named Edd Whetmore (RIP). One of the assignments he gave us was to interview someone interesting, write an 1,200-word article about him or her, and submit it for publication.

I knew immediately whom I wanted to interview. As a huge fan of the locally produced clay-animated short film Closed Mondays, which I'd seen several times at The Movie House in downtown Portland, I had been looking for an excuse to meet the film's producers, Will Vinton and Bob Gardiner. Now, thanks to Mr. Whetmore, I had that excuse. And I could use my status as a writer for the college student paper, The Pioneer Log, as my "press pass."

Then I learned that Closed Mondays had been nominated for an Academy Award for best animated short subject. Damn, I thought. Now it'll be impossible for me to get an interview with these local celebrities. They'll be swarmed with interview requests from all the papers and magazines.

Nevertheless, I decided to give it a go. I found Vinton's phone number in the Portland phone directory, called him, and asked whether he would be open to an interview. Miraculously, he said, "Sure," and suggested we meet for lunch the following week at his office in Northwest Portland.

I couldn't believe my luck. Here was this semi-famous filmmaker, who might be on the verge of winning a freaking Oscar, agreeing to an interview with some 19-year-old college punk who may or may not be able to write—and definitely wouldn't be getting his article published, considering all the competition by professional journalists with actual credentials and connections to actual publications.

After Vinton and I met, I typed up a draft of the article on my manual typewriter, shared the draft with Vinton in person at his home in the Northwest Portland hills (where Vinton and Gardiner had shot Closed Mondays), took notes as Vinton suggested a few changes, and then went home and typed up a new draft incorporating the edits.

I sent the article to the first publication I could think of that might be interested: Northwest Magazine, which was the Sunday supplement to Oregon's biggest newspaper, The Oregonian. Considering that the magazine had a purported circulation of around 400,000, this was an extreme long shot for a first-time writer. I was certain the editor would read the first sentence, laugh uproariously, make several paper planes out of my article, and gleefully fly them all into the nearest round file.

Fortunately, another long shot came through for me: Closed Mondays won the Oscar. The next day, the editor of Northwest Magazine called me and said he wanted to publish my article, but could I please get a few more quotes from newly minted Oscar winners Vinton and Gardiner and add them somewhere near the end of the article? Oh, and maybe take a photographer to Vinton's house and get some nice black-and-white stills? There would be $75 in it for both me and the photographer.

"Um, sure," said the starving college student, while wetting his pants because his very first article was going to be published—in none other than Oregon's biggest magazine in Oregon's biggest newspaper.

There's more to the story (isn't there always?), but I think that's enough ado for now. Here's the article. (Apologies for the poor-quality scans and obvious seams—all DIY by yours truly, who accepts all the blame.)