Disney Studio – Burbank

Adam marveled at the ease of getting onto the Studio Lot. Years ago he and Beth had become members of a local Disney Fan Club and were able to join one of their rare, private tours of the Studio. But he was well aware that the average fan walking in off the street would only get as far as the guard station on Buena Vista Street before being politely turned away. Glancing at Peter as they got out of the car, he couldn’t help but notice the boy’s ease and air of familiarity. There was no wide-eyed sense of wonder he would have expected from a fan as big as Peter. He knew about Peter’s escapade in the Studio’s Nunnery—so named decades ago because it was a No Man’s Land so the many female inkers would be able to relax without male interruption—but thought it had been an isolated incident. Now he was curious.

Adam’s curiosity would have to wait, though. Kenneth, the security guard at the entrance gate, had followed them to their parking spot in the visitor lot. Clipboard in hand, he began by pointing at the three soundstages and neighboring trailers over to the right. “We have a lot of production filming going on today, so you need to stay away from those buildings. You might want to begin at the popular signpost at Dopey Drive and then proceed to the front of the Animation Building.” Kenneth glanced at the dark suit Peter was wearing. Very businesslike. His eyes then paused on the backward-facing baseball cap Adam had shoved onto his blond hair. The pause was just long enough for Adam to uneasily shift under the scrutiny. The hat had been a last-minute addition in an attempt to give him the air of a ‘blog filmer’ for a young host. Kenneth’s eyes shifted away to hide his amusement. “You are also free to film in the Legends Plaza.” His look stayed on Peter this time. “Just don’t climb all over the statues, all right?”

Trying to keep in the professional mode his dad and Uncle Adam had stressed, Peter held back from rolling his eyes. “Yes, sir. Do we have access to the Archives?”

Kenneth’s eyebrows lifted. “No. That’s off-limits except by invitation.” He consulted his clipboard again. “Which you don’t have.” When he saw Peter’s hopeful look falter, he added, “But you can go into the lobby of the Frank G. Wells Building here,” as he pointed to his printed map. “There are some artifacts on display there.” He looked from Adam to Peter. “Any other questions? Do you need this map? No? All right. You’ve been allowed three hours. Have fun.” The look on the guard’s face indicated anything but fun. “I’ll come find you when your time is up.” It wasn’t an offer.

Forcing a smile, Adam held out his hand. “Thanks for your help. I’m sure we’ll get just what we need.”

Kenneth shook the proffered hand, his eyes again straying to Adam’s hat. “Right.”

Letting Peter lead the way, Adam refrained from jerking the cap off his head. “So, do we start on Dopey Drive? It sounded like that was expected. I have my iPad ready. You know what you’re going to say?” He was less-than-encouraged by Peter’s quick reply.

“Nope. I figured I’d just wing it.”

Adam’s groan was drowned out by an electric cart zipping by. He recognized one of the stars of a popular television show. “We are so going to jail.”

“What’d you say, Uncle Adam?”

“Nothing, Pete. Let’s just get this show on the road.”

After pretending to film the signpost and Pluto’s three paw prints in front of the bright red fire hydrant, Adam began to relax. Peter seemed as full of hot air as his father had been when they did this same ruse in Kansas City back in 2002. Gesturing at the nearby Animation Building that had housed Walt’s offices, Peter chattered on and on. Adam had already quit listening and concentrated on holding the iPad level. They had, unfortunately, begun to attract unwanted attention as employees from different departments walked past their position.

When the audience around them had grown, Adam signaled to Peter. “Um, cut! Hey, Peter? I think we have enough footage here. Shall we go on to the next spot?” Adam almost laughed when Peter ran a hand through his hair. His dad had that used that same mannerism when he was in view of ‘his adoring public.’

“Yes. Let’s go on to the Wells Building.”

Adam stifled a chuckle. “Yes. Let’s.”

As they continued down Minnie Avenue, Peter thought Uncle Adam was acting odd and wondered if something was off. “Did I do something wrong?” He looked down at his clothes to straighten the hated tie.

Adam smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “No, you’re doing just fine. Isn’t that the Ink and Paint Department?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, that’s the main entrance. There are other doors on the different streets. We’ll have to see which one looks best. This entry seems awfully busy.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, too. One of the hazards of coming on a week day. Let’s get some footage of the Legends for good measure. I’m not sure if we’re being followed or not.”

“What?” Peter’s head jerked around as they walked. “You think so? What’d you see?”

“Calm down and act professional, Pete. I didn’t see anything particular. Just talking out loud.” Which I probably shouldn’tdo. “We’ll play it by ear. You ready to talk about the Partners Statue?”

The prospect of being able to stand next to the famous statue helped dissipate Peter’s concern. In the Disneyland Hub, the identical statue was up on a pedestal, surrounded by flowerbeds and a metal fence. Pictures there could only be taken from a distance. Here, in the Plaza, the statue was ground level. Over on the edge of the Plaza was a park bench that held bronze statues of Roy Disney and Minnie Mouse.

Once Peter had made up enough facts about the statues of the two famous brothers, they edged back toward the Ink and Paint Department. Adam heard Peter gasp when he glanced inside.

“What’s wrong, Pete?”

“I…I didn’t know there were so many rooms. I only saw the one when I went through the tunnel last year. Look at all those bottles!”

Adam could hear an edge of panic in the boy’s voice. “Steady there, Pete. We’ll figure it out.” His heart sank when he saw that Peter hadn’t been exaggerating. There had to be hundreds of bottles in the room they could see. What would they find in the other rooms through those inner doors? “Just remember, we’re doing this for Catie. Remember Catie and be calm.”

Still staring at the task ahead of him, Peter didn’t see Adam swipe at his eyes. “For Catie. I’ll do it for her.”

Adam had to clear his throat before he could speak. “From what I can see, it looks clear in this room. You want to give it a go? You have something prepared to talk about?”

“Sure.”

Shaking his head at the unconvincing tone of Peter’s voice, Adam opened the door and urged the boy inside. “Just act like we’re supposed to be in here, Pete. People tend to believe you if you act like you know what you’re doing.” We are so going to jail.

“Gotcha.” Peter ran a hand through his hair again and shook it back. “Ready, Uncle Adam.” His eyes constantly moved around the room while he talked on and on about different Disney movies that might have used these paints. Every time he found a paint bottle that was yellow, he walked over to it and ‘accidently’ dropped his microphone to look more closely at the bottle. Over and over he only found plastic containers. “Okay, people, let’s move into the next room. Here we find the sinks that the animators use to mix the paints to match the exact colors needed for their projects. Just think. Walt Disney himself might have used that very sink.”

An artist doing just that was startled to see someone walk in filming. Turning off the water, she excused herself, saying she’d come back in a couple of minutes to allow them some space.

“Why, thank you. That’s nice of you.” Peter dimpled at her and Adam had to keep from laughing.

“We need to speed it up, Pete.” Adam had refrained from speaking until the woman was gone from the room. “She’s on the clock and won’t want to wait too long. If we upset too many animators, they might call in a complaint. That could bring our friend Kenneth sooner than we want.”

Peter had just dropped his mike again. “Rats. There’s nothing here. Gosh, how many yellows do they have?” He hurried to the other side of the small room to look at another group of yellow paints. “There’s another room over there. Let’s try that one and she can get back to the sink.”

Adam followed Peter out of the room and thanked the animator for waiting. But, he didn’t have Peter’s dimples.

“Just don’t take too long. People have to work, you know.”

“Yes. Sorry.” Adam caught up to Peter in the next room. This room had an animator’s desk and an overhead ventilation system for the paint fumes. There were another wall of shelving, but there was more than just paint. He could see folder systems and books. Signed artwork was displayed on the upper walls. Peter, he could see, was examining the shelves of glass bottles and animator’s brushes. “Is that it, Peter?”

Peter’s hands shook as he reached for the bottles. “There aren’t any yellows. Look! There isn’t even one yellow.” He gently pushed a blue bottle aside, his heart pounding. “It isn’t here.”

“Don’t panic, Pete. This has to be the room. There’re lots of yellows over on that far wall. Just start talking before someone wonders what we’re doing in here.” Adam lifted the iPad to eye level again and pushed the record button. “Start talking, Peter.”

Running out of material and nerves, Peter started to rattle on about his favorite rides at Disneyland as he edged his way around the room. “Oops, dropped my mike,” he announced rather loudly.

“Be careful with the equipment, buddy,” Adam automatically replied as he glanced over his shoulder. No one seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to them any longer. “We’re clear, Pete. Check out that bottom shelf.”

“Uncle Adam! Look! There’s a WED engraved into the shelf. This is it. It has to be.”

Adam hefted the iPad again and hit record, using his body to block anyone from seeing Peter on the floor. “I only see plastic from here, but do what you have to.”

Peter didn’t take time to reply. There were five different yellows lined up on that shelf, three deep. All of the tall plastic bottles had their elaborate color code facing outward. Peter pulled some of them off the shelf to set them on the floor out of his way. In his hurry, one of them tipped over. He gasped when the bottle’s blue endcap slowly rolled away. Canary yellow paint began to ooze all over the floor. Before he could panic further, his eye caught the glint of glass in the back corner. A small, round paint bottle was crammed into the darkest corner behind all the tall containers. And it was yellow. “I found it!”

“Someone’s coming. Pocket it and stand up. Hurry. Start talking.”

His face flushed, Peter stood just as a different artist came into the room.

“You guys almost done in here?” His mouth went into a deeper frown when he saw the yellow paint spreading over the floor. “What happened here?”

Peter managed to look teary-eyed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I was trying to show the bottle to the camera and it just fell out of my hands! I’ll clean it up. I’m so sorry.”

Adam felt he needed to step in. “We’re awfully sorry about the mess. If you show us where the rags are, I’ll be glad to clean the floor. Sometimes the boy gets so excited while he’s talking. Probably why his blog is so popular.” Adam forced his lips to close when he found he was rambling.

The artist looked up from the spill. “No, that’s all right. It happens more than you’d think. I’ll call for the janitor. He’s used to this kind of mess.” If he wondered why the young one no longer looked so devastated, he didn’t say anything. “You have all you need for your, uh, blog?”

“Yes, we have exactly what we needed. We got just what we came for.”

Adam signaled for Peter to tone it down. “Yes, thanks. Everyone has been so helpful. We need to get going, Pete. I think our time’s up.”

In his excitement, Peter had to hold himself from breaking into a run as they headed for Adam’s car. “We did it, Uncle Adam! We found Walt’s next clue! Can we go tell Catie?”

Adam put a fond arm around the boy’s shoulders. “I think that’s a great idea. Do you think we have a minute to shop in the Studio store? I’d like to pick up a souvenir. Or two.”

“How about the Commissary? I’m starving.”

Just like his dad. “You’re always starving. Let’s not push our luck. We’ll stop somewhere on the way home. How about the Tam O’Shanter on Los Feliz Boulevard? We’ll ask for Walt’s table.”