Have a Plate of Fish

Life With Feathers (1945) deserved its Oscar nomination, as Tedd Pierce’s story motors along with plot twists and plenty of situations.

After a fight with his wife, a love-bird decides to end it all by having Sylvester eat him. But the sceptical cat concludes the bird must be poisoned because he isn’t running away, so he rebuffs all attempts by the bird to swallow him.

Just as the bird has finally convinced the famished cat to turn him into a meal, a telegram arrives. The wife has decided to make-up, so the bird doesn’t want to be eaten now. But Sylvester’s mind is made up.



A gag I like is how the bird puts out all kinds of food to stop the determined Sylvester from eating him.



Virgil Ross got the rotating screen credit for animation. Paul Julian supplies the backgrounds for Friz Freleng, while Mel Blanc's lovebird is pretty much his Happy Postman voice from the Burns & Allen radio show sped up. Sylvester's name and voice came from the Judy Canova Show in 1943, though the radio Sylvester sprayed a lot more.

A Superior Benny Show in Duluth

Jack Benny wasn’t tied down with a regular TV show any more in 1967, which enabled him to do some specials, as well as appear with symphony orchestras in charity drives and go on a tour over the summer.

The tours were set up like a vaudeville bill (well, without animal acts). There was comedy, singing, music and a novelty act.

One of Jack’s stops was in Duluth, Minnesota. It was page-one news. There was the usual press conference when he arrived, and then a warm review in the local paper.

Jack wasn’t the only celebrity in town, as we learn from the Duluth News-Tribune of Sept. 14, 1967. We’ve transcribed only the portion that involves Jack.

Duluthians Warmly Welcome Jack Benny, Martina Arroyo
By JAMES HEFFERNAN AND SHARON STAUFFER
Of The News-Tribune Staff
An eager crowd awaited outside the fogbound Duluth International Airport terminal Wednesday night as an airplane circled overhead.
In that plane were lack Benny, who needs no introduction, and Martina Arroyo, internationally known opera star.
The crowd was divided, a reception committee for Benny and a welcoming group for Miss Arroyo. For a while it appeared that the plane might have to land at Hibbing, but suddenly the fog lifted and the plane was on the runway.
Benny is here for the Duluth Arena-Auditorium First Anniversary Show at 8:30 p.m. Friday in the Arena. Miss Arroyo will be singing the role of Leonora in the Duluth Symphony Association's production of the Verdi Opera "Il Trovatore" next Thursday and the following Saturday in the Auditorium.
On hand to greet the famed comedian were Manley Goldfine, president of the Arena-Auditorium Administrative Board; Leonard Rudolph, publicity chairman for the event, Dan Hudson, assistant manager of the Duluth Chamber of Commerce and Lee Vann, a member of the Arena-Auditorium board.
Miss Arroyo was met by Dr. Dan Goldish, chairman of the Opera Committee, and Mrs. Goldish; and Ben Marsh, who is assisting with publicity for the opera.
Mayor Ben Boo was on hand to greet both artists.
Benny was besieged by autograph hunters as he strolled, as only Jack Benny can stroll, into the terminal building. Smiling, he complied with all requests, patting little children on the head with a benevolent smile.
Once inside, his greeters presented him with an Ambassadors' "Ducal Decree" making him an Ambassador Extraordinary of the Duchy of Duluth.
Upon receipt of the certificate and its accompanying medal Benny, a noted "cheapskate," turned to Mayor Bon, handed him the medal and asked "How would you like to buy this for a dollar thirty-nine."
It had been a long day for Benny. His day started in Topeka, Kan., where he had been entertaining at the Topeka Mid-America Fair. From that he went to Independence, Mo., where he called on his "old friend" Harry Truman. And then on to Duluth.
The entertainer reported that he found his former president friend in good spirits but a little feeble. "He wanted me to stay for an hour," Benny said, “but I only stayed for about 25 minutes."
Discussing the upcoming show in Duluth, Benny said "It’ll be a good one." He said the bill on his prior engagement at the Mid. America Fair included all of the entertainers who will be appearing with him here.
This week's earlier engagement was the first time Benny had worked with Skitch Henderson, famed personality pianist and music conductor. They will appear together at Friday night's show for the second time.
Also in the show are singers Mary Lou Collins and Bobby Vinton. Benny termed both singers “talented kids.”
Benny gave away his perpetual age of 39 in response to a question on how long it has been since he'd entertained in Duluth.
Placing his hand aside his chin he said, "Well, I've been married for 40 years and I know it was before that."
He goes into rehearsal for his Duluth show Friday morning. Today, he said, he hopes to "get in a little golf."
Miss Arroyo, pleased with her reception which included presentation of a red rose bouquet by Mrs. Coldish, smiled as she commented, “I thought the entire crowd was welcoming Benny.”

The review appeared on the front page of the same paper two days later. I rather doubt that in 1967 teenagers were Bobby Vinton’s target audience, especially doing an imitation of Eddie Cantor. Jack seems to have had a thing for singers with high voices, considering he had toured before this with Wayne Newton (columnists in the 1950s also noted Dennis Day’s voice was higher on radio than in real life).

By this time, Skitch Henderson had moved on from Tonight Show.

Jack Benny’s You-Name-It Provides a Heckuva Party
BY DAVIS HELBERG
Of The News-Tribune Staff
You just can't capture Jack Benny by battering out on a typewriter what he does with his hands, his facial expressions, his timing — all of those things that make up the complete Jack Benny.
It almost seems ridiculous to "review" a Jack Benny show. Do you seriously think he'd be bad? That he could be?
A large, near-capacity crowd gave the Benny show a responsive reception Friday night as area citizens and the Benny troupe celebrated the Arena-Auditorium's first anniversary.
It was a huckuva birthday party.
Benny, of course, and Sketch Henderson, brought them in from throughout the area—there were many Ontario license plates in the parking lot, too—but don't be too sure those who were there will be saying Bobby Who? any more.
Those old-timers past the age of 25 likely will recognize Bobby Vinton's last name the next time they see it or hear it.
Vinton's been big with the teen set for about five years, but even though he sings it "straight" for the most part he hasn't caught on that well with the older group.
Vinton likes to get the audience going — clapping hands, singing along, joining in. He didn't have them for the opening few minutes of his excellent performance, but by the end they gave him a long, boisterous ovation.
Sitting on the stage edge, roaming up and down the aisles, covering territory all over the stage, Vinton sang songs ranging from “If you knew Suzie” a la Eddie Cantor and "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy" to "Mr. Lonely," which he wrote when he was in the service. Take it from here, no one can sing "Mr. Lonely" after Vinton sings it.
He played the clarinet, the saxophone, the trumpet, and played them well. He learned how to play them in the suburban Pittsburgh, Pa., high school in which his father's the band director.
He told the crowd he's been "bombing” lately, but it’s difficult to understand why. If he was serious.
But there's only one Benny and this is by no means to say that Vinton stole the show. Such larceny hardLy would be possible with the old maestro [sic] himself on hand.
Benny observed he hadn't appeared in Duluth since 1929 and said, "I was such a big hit then that they brought me back now for a return engagement — 31 years later.
"It's fortunate that I've had some other work in between."
He said his physician didn't think he should come all the way to Duluth as this is the time of year when Benny usually vacations a little.
"He (the doctor) said, 'Surely you're not playing Duluth because of the money.’"
Benny paused that long pause and gave that look.
"The man is a brilliant surgeon," he said, "but the minute he takes off his rubber gloves he's an idiot."
Benny said Manley Goldfine, president of the Arena-Auditorium Administrative Board, told him if he's a success in Duluth he might be able to get work throughout this part of Minnesota.
"He said I probably could get two days in Hibbing," Benny said, "and a full week in Twig.
"All my life, there have been three cities in the world I wanted to see—London, Paris and Twig."
He continued along that way in his relaxed fashion, explaining that he doesn't tell jokes: "I just talk and sort of ramble along."
Talking and rambling along the way Benny does, he probably could have kept the audience until three o'clock this afternoon.
Benny also served as master of ceremonies, punctuating the performances of Vinton, singer Mary Lou Collins, the Rudenko Brothers juggling act, and getting involved in some humorous asides with Henderson.
Henderson's orchestra fit the Benny mood ideally. From a "Hooray for Hollywood" opening to the "Love in Bloom" Benny theme to some heckles from Vinton, the group kept things moving along with order and with fun.
Benny took up his violin after the intermission and delighted the crowd with gags involving "my fiddle."
He admitted to being a frustrated violinist, but proved there are more reasons than his popularity for his demand on the concert circuit where he gives benefit performances regularly.
Included in several numbers he played was "The Bee" by Schubert, a brief but extremely difficult piece. It was "The Bee," Benny said, which led to famous, 30-year “feud” with the late Fred Allen.
Allen had a child prodigy play the number on his radio show about 40 years ago, Benny said. Following the youngster's performance, Allen made some "derogatory" comments regarding Benny's ability with the violin.
An avid listener to his show, Benny replied to the remarks on his own program and the feud was on. It was all in good fun, Benny pointed out, and he termed Allen "a great, great comedian."
For a change of pace, Mary Lou Collins indicated why her star has been climbing steadily in the last two years. Excellently packaged, she also showed she knows how to use her sultry voice as she covered a gamut of singing styles.
A piano rendition of "Autumn Leaves" by Henderson added more diversion and a great deal otherwise to the folksy program.
If there was a letdown, it was that old story about the show starting half an hour late. And it took a little speech-making to get the thing off the ground, but everyone survived.
Henderson, who followed U.S. Rep. John Blatnik and Jeno Paulucci, among others, announced as he strolled out: "I don't know what the hell I'm doing here — I'm a Republican."
It was party time from that point on.

By the way, Benny did not appear in Duluth in 1929. It was much earlier. He was at the Orpheum the week of February 1, 1920. The News Tribune wrote of his act: “In that category of favoured ones [with the audience] comes Benny, who fiddles and fuma-diddles his way through 14 minutes of banning the blues, an effort in which he is eminently successful.”

Garth Johnson has accomplished an enormous task of documenting Jack's vaudeville career, complete with reviews and ads. It takes a while to load, but you can find it by clicking here.

Bob Gribbroek Tidbits And Cooking Tips

Bob Gribbroek’s name gets lost when you talk about layout and background people at the Warner Bros. cartoon studio. He worked for Chuck Jones for a while, but while Jones heaped praise on Maurice Noble, he never said a lot about Gribbroek’s abilities.

He was then placed in the unit directed by Bob McKimson to make both backgrounds and layouts. McKimson derisively said his unit was full of “drunks and queers” (McKimson employed Bob Givens as a layout artist and Givens was neither). McKimson related to historian Mike Barrier: “I had a layout man—he was a very good layout man—who was a queer, and a background man at the same time who was a queer, and they were just at each other's throats all the time. So finally I had to get rid of the background man.” (The background man in question had worked at Disney).

I posted about Gribbroek some years ago on the GAC Forum (R.I.P.) and thought I had reposted it here. After writing this post, I discovered I had posted parts of it in 2023. So here it is, with some additional material.

When he arrived at the Warners studio is yet to be discovered, but Gribbroek’s picture is with the rest of the cartoon staff in the April 1945 edition of the Warner Club News. The following month, the studio paper mention him and others in the Screen Cartoonists Guild with a slide presentation on world peace. In the June issue (which reports Art Davis had taken over the Clampett unit with George Hill and Hubie Karp handling stories), it is mentioned he played in the cartoon division’s tennis championship.

Gribbroek first got screen credit in Jones’ Hare Conditioned, released August 11, 1945 when the studio finally credited layout and background people. Whether he left Warners and came back isn’t clear, but he painted backgrounds on Republic Pictures’ brief series of Jerky Journeys released in 1948-49.

He quit the animation business in May 1951; the Warner Club News of that month said he was returning to Taos, New Mexico, where he had “an eight room house on top of a mountain where he will raise chinchillas.” Jones remarked in Chuck Redux that Gribbroek made his adobe house out of green hay and had to trim it all the time (He also told a story of Gribbroek's short attempt at bullfighting). Warners always seem to have had a backlog of cartoons for release, and Gribbroek’s name is found as the layout man on Jones’ Don’t Give Up the Sheep, released Jan. 3, 1953. He returned to the studio some time after January 1954, and laid out Jones’ Two Scent’s Worth, released Oct. 15, 1955. He still had the chinchilla business back home. Devon Baxter has gone to the expense of buying a number of issues of Club News and posted the January 1955 photo to the right.

Gribbroek worked for Jones for several shorts—one of the cartoons he laid out was One Froggy Evening—before moving over to McKimson to fill the layout job. He stayed with the studio until the end, though he career was interrupted when his car was broadsided in June 1959 (Taos News, Aug. 27, 1959) and again by broken bones when his car hit stump on a mountain road near Glendale (Taos News, Nov. 3, 1960). He provided backgrounds for the final Bugs Bunny cartoon, False Hare, released July 16, 1964. Gribbroek painted some backgrounds for the Hanna-Barbera feature Hey There, It's Yogi Bear. Jones then hired him to work on several Tom and Jerrys for MGM before he retired from animation and left California.

He was born March 16, 1906 in Rochester, New York, to Edward Garret and Ada C. Gribbroek (they divorced in 1923). His father was a grocer. The book Representative Art and Artists of New Mexico (originally published in 1940) states he studied at the P.A.F.A. and Rochestra Athenaeum and with Emil Bisstram in Taos. When he actually arrived in New Mexico is unclear. It would seem he split his time there and in Rochester. The Taos News of Jan. 26, 1971 stated he first came to New Mexico in 1929. In 1935, he belonged to the Rochester Art Workers and his paintings and commercial art were exhibited. The 1940 Rochester city directory still lists his name, but the 1940 Census has him in Taos (giving his occupation as “artist and draftsman”). His 1940 draft card has him employed by the New Mexico State Assessment Survey. His address is crossed out an a Hollywood address substituted; his name appears in the 1942 Los Angeles Directory.

The Albuquerque Journal included several mentions of Gribbroek in the second half of the 1930s.

June 14, 1935
Bob Gribbroek, who was one of the first to establish the Isleta art colony which since has quietly died, is returning in August, we hear, to stay in New Mexico a year or more . . . . he was a commercial artist in Rochester, Minn. [sic]

Oct. 12, 1935
Bob Gribbroek returns to town from Rochester, N. Y., and will spend the winter in Isleta, painting . . . will occupy the same Indian house he and Cory took three years ago . . . you know Bob by his tiny beard and his height . . . Paul Robinson, dilettante in many arts, is with him, en route to California from the east.

July 21, 1936
... a part of summer Taos is the University of New Mexico art class, 20 students this year, headed by Dorothea Fricke and including Martin Shaffer and Robert C. Gribbroek whom we know here.

Feb. 19, 1937
Bob, incidentally, plans to get to New Mexico and Taos [from New York City after a trip to Florida] as soon as legal matters are adjusted in Rochester, N. Y., sometime after the first of April.

Jan. 5, 1938
Ada Gribbroek went up to Taos to visit her son Bob from Rochester in September en route to California .... fascinated by the village life she is still in Taos .... came down to move his furniture from Isleta to Bob's new studio home in the art colony .... several years ago Bob started a little colony of his own in Islata and startled the Indians with his ideas on interior decorating .... Bob, merciless satirist, tells us a Country Club crowd has started up in Taos.

Oct. 19, 1938
Continuous art exhibits will be open to the public in the Arts building on the University [of New Mexico] campus, Ralph Douglass, head of the department of art announced Tuesday. Artists represented are [...] Robert Gribbroek...of Taos.

Jan. 28, 1939
The most elaborate winter sports show of the season, to be climaxed by a leap through a hoop of fire from a 80-foot ski jump, will be held at Agua Piedra near Tres Ritos in the Carson National Forest Sunday, Taos Winter Sports Club officials, sponsors of the carnival, announced Friday night.
Reno Du Pasquier, Swiss ski pro who has maintained classes in New Mexico this season, will make the famed fire leap. Du Pasquier is also slated to give a first aid demonstration on skis and a demonstration showing the advantage of skis over other methods of traveling on snow.
With many club members of the Taos art colony, an added attraction of the program will be a unique exhibition of snow sculpturing by Bob Gribbroek, carnival officials said.

Sept. 25, 1939
Bob Gribbroek took a recent completed mural down to Albuquerque last week-end to be used in the State Fair opening last Sunday. (Santa Fe New Mexican)

Nov. 7, 1940
Bob Gribbroek, artist, is continuing nicely in his career up at Taos, where he moved after gracing local scenes for a while . . . 20 of his drawings will comprise a one-man show at the Rundell Gallery in Rochester, N. Y., his former home town, this month . . . one of his non-objective works is hanging at the Guggenheim Museum in New York City.

Perhaps Gribbroek’s main accomplishment at this time was being a founding artist in the Transcendental Painting Group in Taos. The Journal, in a 2021 story, said the group had declared its purpose was “to carry painting beyond the appearance of the physical world, through new concepts of space, color, light and design, to imaginative realms that are idealistic and spiritual.”

And he was an accomplished cook, as several stories from 1959 mention. Unfortunately, there's no Duck au Gratin Under Tooled Leather:

HONOLULU, Dec. 5 (UPI) - A bachelor whose avocation is cooking defeated four other single men and 20 husbands in a contest to choose the nation's leading male backyard barbecue chef.
Robert G. Gribbroek, Los Angeles, accomplished this with an original recipe for a skewer specialty he called pork tenderloin Javanese.
His $10,000 cash first prize could well help him to future cooking honors. Gribbroek said in an interview that he plans to use the prize money to help build a new home with the kind of modern, well-equipped kitchen any cook, man or woman, would love to work in.
The combination of cooking skill and new home qualifies the handsome, 53-year-old 6-foot 2 inch bachelor for another title: most eligible male.
But Gribbroek indicated that he's satisfied with the status quo.
His job as a layout artist with Warner Brothers' cartoon division keeps him too busy to think of marriage. Too busy even for cooking, except on special occasions, he added.
His mother, who acts as his housekeeper, presides at the kitchen stove except at party time.
Then, Gribbroek steps up to his outdoor grill or kitchen range to prepare such exotic dishes as the one that captured first prize in the (Kaiser/Foil) cookout championship.
Here's the prize-winning recipe:
Cut 2 pounds of pork tenderloin into 1-inch cubes, combine 6 Brazil or macadamia nuts, grated, 1 cup of minced onion, 2 garlic cloves, minced, 1-4 cup each of lemon juice and soy sauce, 2 tablespoons each of brown sugar and ground coriander, 1-4 tea spoon of crushed red pepper of chili powder and 1-4 cup of olive oil. Marinate pork cubes in this mixture 10 minutes.
Place pork on skewers and grill over hot coals about 10 minutes on each side. Present skewers on heated serving dish and garnish with contents; of one 12-ounce jar of preserved kumquats and fresh orange leaves or parsley. Serves 4 to 6.
Gribbroek usually serves the meat flaming with cointreau, an orange-flavored liqueur.

By STAN DELAPLANE
Arizona Republic [Syndicated column published Nov. 24, 1959]
HONOLULU—Have been interviewing Mr. Robert Gribbroek beside the beach at Waikiki this morning. We found him happy.
Mr. Gribbroek is the new world's champion backyard barbecue chef. He won over 24 final contestants in Mr. Henry Kaiser's elegant backyard at the Hawaiian Village—a happy $10,000. (Unhappily, it will be reduced to some $6,000 by the happy tax collector.)
He won in a last-minute finish with a skewered pork tenderloin dish called "Pork Tenderloin Javanese."
It was a win to make any red-blooded suburb chef proud. (I am a suburb-backyard chef, and I was proud.)
"When we lined up behind our grills, we discovered that all my ingredients had been lost," said the champion.
* * *
THE TENDER pork tenderloin he had chopped so tenderly had been misplaced. This is the sort of thing that makes a man beat his wife.
Mr. Gribbroek is a bachelor and had no wife to beat, a terrible handicap.
The contest started at 10:30 in the morning.
Each cook had enough for three tries—except Gribbroek, who stood around moodily slicing a piece of borrowed garlic. The finish time was 3:30 and Gribbroek got under the wire at 3:15!
"They were unable to furnish Brazil nuts," he said. "But I agreed to settle for Hawaiian macedamia [sic] nuts, which are about the same."
In this catastrophe, Gribbroek stood firm. All around him the fires were blazing and the smell of completed entries rose richly to the coco palms.
Gradually ingredients arrived by panting messenger.
* * *
HE SKEWERED his trimmed pork tenderloin bits on little fencing foil skewers that he brought with him.
"What is the marinade, please?"
"A little lemon juice, brown sugar, coriander—it's a natural for pork. A little olive oil and a little chili and soya sauce [sic]. I garnished with preserved kumquats and some lime leaves and served on a plain white Japanese platter."
Gribbroek was ready to go with a curried rice, cooked in chicken broth, on the side. But losing his food and time upset him.
"I couldn't control the heat and the rice came out too soft."
Reluctantly, he withdrew it and sent in the skewered pork alone.
It won.
* * *
"I'M REALLY not much of a barbecue chef," said the barbecue champion, frankly. "At home when I throw a party, I usually cook on the stove."
Now that is what I have been trying to tell those eggheads in my neighborhood.
This keeping up with the Joneses barbecue has got to stop.

The event was held Nov. 14, 1959.

We learn of his life after MGM from the News of Aug. 13, 1970:

Former Taos artist Robert (Bob) Gribbroek, is back in Taos, after returning from Barcelona and Sitges, Spain, where he has lived since 1965. While there he worked on an animated feature film and as actor in TV commercials and four feature films.

The News reported on Oct. 22, 1970 he was working three days a week at an art gallery and on June 16, 1971 he had been appointed production manager of the Little Theatre of Taos. He didn’t enjoy it long. Gribbroek died Oct. 13, 1971.

How a Cat Wakes Up

Percy the cat is either awoken by the sound of Little Roquefort mixing a cake or Phil Scheib’s repetitious hippity-hop background music in Pastry Panic (1951).

Because Jim Tyer is at work here, Percy is roused like no other sleepy cat. First, his ear goes up, grows and shakes. The remaining drawings follow, ending in a shock take.



There’s more typical Tyer later in the cartoon, where body parts stretch like a balloon being pulled.

Manny Davis is the director and Tommy Morrison came up with the story with a sentimental ending which I liked.

Extra Credit

Don Patterson, Ray Abrams, La Verne Harding and Paul J. Smith were the credited animators at the Walter Lantz studio when it returned to operation after a shutdown of more than a year. In Slingshot 6 7/8, there is more than one credit.

In an early scene, you can see their names in the background. “Ken” refers to Ken Southworth. It took him some time to get screen credit at Lantz. I don’t know why.



Harding has a “Dress Shoppe.”



As for Smith, he gets the short end here. “Mac & Paul Trucking” is in the background, but in a building only seen during a dissolve from the opening shot.



Who “Mac” is, I couldn’t tell you. (Late note: Devon Baxter can. Read his comment).

The backgrounds are by Fred Brunish. Here’s the opening scene.



The cartoon’s official release date was July 23, 1951.

A Close Look at Close

Commentators have been with us since before electronic media. Back then, they were found in newspapers and called “editorial writers.”

Radio networks were skittish whenever analysts veered into giving their own opinions. It usually resulted in management deciding it would be better having one less analyst. H.V. Kaltenborn was shown the door at CBS. So was Bill Shirer. Later, Howard K. Smith. Even the sainted Edward R. Murrow ran afoul of the executive suite at CBS.

Another lesser-known commentator was Upton Close, whose real name was Josef Washington Hall. In his newspaper days in 1932, he predicted China would become Communist, and “a mad military clique” was rising in Japan. However, on the day of the attack on Pearl Harbor, Close put forward the idea on radio that the Japanese government and military really weren’t responsible.

After NBC decided Close was not suitable for its airwaves, he ended up at the Mutual Broadcasting System. That’s where we find him at the start of 1947. Herald Tribune columnist John Crosby decided to do what we now call “fact checking” into some of things Close declared on his broadcasts. The Daily Worker called him a “fascist.” Crosby was more restrained in his column of Feb. 5th that year.

RADIO IN REVIEW
By JOHN CROSBY
The All-American Commentator
Criticism of journalism on the radio is a ticklish subject, particularly in a newspaper which is engaged in the same line of work. But, since news is not only the most popular but certainly the most important commodity radio has to offer, the handling of news and news comment is a difficult topic to avoid. Certainly all sorts of opinions, from extreme right to extreme left, should be on the air, but those who purvey them should have something to offer besides an opinion.
I'm speaking specifically of Upton Close, "defender of American principles and champion of straight thinking" or, as he is sometimes billed, "The All-American Commentator." Close, now heard on the Mutual Broadcasting System on Tuesdays at 10:15 p. m., was twice dropped by the National Broadcasting Company. After a decidedly curious interpretation of Pearl Harbor made in a broadcast on Dec. 7, 1941, he was suspended on the ground that his comments were irresponsible. His later broadcasts convinced NBC that his knowledge of the Far Eastern situation was questionable and they refused to renew his con-tract in 1944. Close's political convictions are about one hundred yards to the right of even the National Association of Manufacturers, which is pretty far right. After a close atudy of five of his scripts, and after hearing many of his broadcasts, I can report with reasonable confidence that he is anti-Communist, anti-British, anti-Russian, anti-United Nations, anti-Roosevelt, anti-Truman and even, curiously enough, anti-Republican or at least anti-Vandenberg. I use the phrase "reasonable confidence" advisedly because is very difficult to pin Mr. Close down in any one statement. His sentences start out bravely toward the Polish elections and may wind up with an oblique reference to Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt's automobile accident. Here is a typical example of his "straight thinking":
"Our Communist allies have as usual clipped us with surprise offensives. We're all wrapped up by their push on Norway to fortify Spitzbergen and the election in Poland which, if we leave it alone, makes us look either like mice or admitting that eastern Europe was outside our province to begin with. Either alternative would leave the Roosevelt war effort still further without meaning and internationalism a yet more discredited illusion." For a sheer jumble of disconnected incidents, the only comparable statement I ever heard emanated from a terribly confused woman at Schraffts, who was attempting to explain the Supreme Court's gold decision.
Close, however, is not confused; he is just cautious. Sensible persons, he says, "can see no possible further use for all those in the Latin-American and Far Eastern Divisions (of the State Depart-ment) who can't forget both the hates of the last war which are no longer useful and the false loves of the last war which make us ridiculous." What are the "false loves of the last war which make us ridiculous?" Britain and Russia, apparently, but it's hard to tell. What are the false hates—Peron and Franco, or the Nazis and Fascists?
"Under a Republican Congress and with no great persuasive voice to sell them on world government, the American people are going to have sober second thoughts about the United Nations, particularly about setting up world government authority over our economy, including tariffs and prices and how much stuff we can make and grow." You will note that Close doesn't say that the "world government," which the United Nations certainly isn't, has any intention of controlling American tariffs, prices and "the stuff we can make and grow." He just says we'll have sober second thoughts about it. Who had the first thoughts, Mr. Close? No one has ever hinted at the extension of United Nations authority to include control of prices, which even the Administration has abandoned; production, which has never been attempted in this country except in war time, and farm products. Such irresponsibility isn't funny and goes dangerously beyond the ordinary concepts of free speech.
• • •
Close is adept at this sort of shadowy mud-slinging. A masterpiece of Close "straight thinking" is this paragraph in which the commentator was discussing General George C. Marshall's fitness to be Secretary of State: "Those who doubt General Marshall base their feelings largely upon his equivocal testimony before the Pearl Harbor Investigating Committee but at that time Marshall was still a soldier, who never brings dishonor upon a superior officer." The implication is that Marshall didn't tell all he knew about President Roosevelt's pre-war diplomacy but Close can't quite bring himself to make bold statements. While the air should be free to all opinion, the broadcasters certainly ought to set up some sort of journalistic standards. Close's talks are unfair, wildly implausible and at their worst are plain gobbledygook. They don't meet any editorial standards at all. No matter what his convictions, any good editor would ask Close to clarify these curious sentences, to substantiate the vague implications, and to explain why his incredible conclusions differ so widely from those of his fellow reporters.
Mr. Close is sponsored by an organization called the National Economic Council, which has dedidicated itself, it says, to "upholding the American way of life."

Close’s career at Mutual didn’t last much longer. He had been fighting with his sponsor, which decided not to renew its contact with him. Close announced on the air Feb. 11 his broadcast would be the final one for Mutual. He was being heard on 67 affiliates.

He had other problems that year. In September, his wife sued for divorce, claiming her 54-year-old husband was openly fooling around with his secretary, who was 30 years younger than him. He was living in Mexico in November 1960 when he died in a car-train crash.

The week’s columns are below. Some are dated.

Monday, February 3: The movie The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) was inspired by a radio show written by Fulton Oursler, who also got a credit on the film. Of course, the radio show was inspired by something that was a little older. Crosby gives the radio version a passing grade.
Tuesday, February 4: Odds and ends, including a rare story about television. Crosby leads off with his take on something got lots of notice—Lee DeForest’s public complaint about commercial radio. My recollection is Crosby appeared in a short film after a clip of DeForest dictating this column.
Thursday, February 6 and Friday, February 7: a two-part piece on the F.C.C. and the new Republican congress.

You can click on the stories to enlarge the copy. Cartoons are by Bob Moore of the Daily News in Los Angeles.

No April Fool

No, there will be no April Fool post this year.

The blog will be taking a holiday fairly soon (for how long, we don’t know). It was supposed to have wrapped up months ago but new posts have been squeezed out. We’ll be here at least two more weeks.

The frame above comes from Stooge For a Mouse, a 1950 Warners release from the Friz Freleng unit.

Here’s a 12-drawing run cycle of Sylvester from the same cartoon. Note he sprouts an extra leg when he has to look speedier.



Emery Hawkins animated part of this cartoon, in addition to Friz’ regulars of Art Davis, Ken Champin, Gerry Chiniquy and Virgil Ross.