How To Slam a Newspaper By Jerry Mouse of Prague

No, this post won’t bash the Gene Deitch Tom and Jerry cartoons made in Czechoslovakia. They do have some redeeming factors. One is they never included an annoying duck that became Yakky Doodle. Another is they never featured a way-too-cute little French mouse.

Instead, we’ll simply post the frames from a scene in Mouse Into Space (released March 1962). Todd Dockstader’s story has Jerry reading a newspaper ad encouraging mice to enlist in the space programme, promising “There are no cats in outer space!” Here's an in-between as Jerry turns to look at Tom.



Fed up with Tom trying to kill him, first with a pistol, and then a bomb, Jerry has had enough, and storms off out of the scene after slamming down a newspaper. The action takes place pretty quickly, though it still seems a little jerky on screen. These are the drawings, one for each frame (exceptions noted below).



The drawing below is held for four frames.



The next two drawings are held for two frames.



33 frames in all, less than a second and a half. Lots of jagged impact animation, isn't there?

Vaclav Bedrich is given an "animation director" credit, though Deitch is credited as the director. Who did what is your guess. Gene isn't around any more to ask.

Gambling on Women

T.V. of Tomorrow was no kiddie cartoon. Gags were aimed at sex-starved 1950s suburban men. There’s a television set with a Faye Emerson-esque “plunging neckline.” An annoyed man has his set shoot down a small plane for distorting the picture while he’s watching a bathing beauty. There’s another set “which allows you to see all of the picture,” which happens to be another young lady in a swim suit.

There’s yet another gag featuring another bathing suit model, this one in repose. The TV set is the “Las Vegas Special, for you two-bit gamblers, lets you gamble on your channel.” It’s a one-armed bandit set. The viewer put in two bits and, well, the pictures tell the story.



If you’re wondering, the “tired businessman” gag featuring the TV with a full-sized film of Joi Lansing posing is in the earlier House of Tomorrow cartoon (released 1949).

The voiceover for this gag is provided by John Brown. Paul Frees did the rest of the cartoon. I have no idea why Avery switches voices.

At least one gag appears to have been edited out of this cartoon. At the 0:53 mark, there’s a sudden cut in the soundtrack. But if you listen to the soundtrack of the cartoon on the Scott Bradley music CD that came out some time ago, you’ll hear the music that was under the gag (the soundtrack is 30 seconds longer than the cartoon in circulation).

Heck Allen assisted Avery with the “story” in the 1953 release, with Ray Patterson added to Avery’s usual unit of Mike Lah, Grant Simmons, Walt Clinton and Bob Bentley.

Tralfaz Sunday Theatre: Marginal Weather Accidents

Animation studios were busy during World War Two, and we don’t just mean theatricals where Nazis and “Japs” got their just desserts, or gags about rationing or working at Lockheed.

The U.S. military commissioned all kinds of animated films, some made at special government film units on either coast, others contracted out. Thanks to restoration and exposure, the Snafu shorts put together by the talents at the Schlesinger studio are best-known.

Walter Lantz, MGM, even Hugh Harman were signed by the Army or Navy or government departments to make shorts to instruct personnel or get civilians to preserve fats, stay away from the Black Market, and so on.

UPA was another studio that provided the government with cartoons. Though there is no credit on Marginal Weather Accidents, the designs scream UPA (or whatever it was called then) and the main character sounds like Jerry Hausner, who was Waldo in the Mr. Magoo cartoons in the ‘50s, and spent the war with AFRS.

(A check of Amid Amidi’s Cartoon Modern states this was one of 16 cartoons produced between 1945 and 1947 to promote flight safety, mainly directed and designed by John Hubley, with additional design and direction by Zach Schwartz and Bill Hurtz, and backgrounds by Paul Julian).

If I had to guess, I’d say the score was composed by Clarence Wheeler.

It’s a shame the artwork is masked by the corporate bugs and the resolution is low, but it’s worth a look to see the early UPA in action.

No TV for Benny in 1949

Jack Benny was supposed to saunter onto TV screens a year before he actually did.

Erskine Johnson’s column for the Newspaper Enterprise Association on July 4, 1949 had this item:

“Only part of his radio cast will be with Jack Benny when he plunges into television this fall. Too expensive.”

It would appear CBS broached the idea of Jack doing some network television in the 1949-50 season. It never happened.

Jack Shafer in the Newark Star-Ledger reported in his column the day before:

Benny ponders video; calls style too subtle
Jack Benny was in town on another business jaunt this week. He has a new publicity gimmick. It used to be the semi-annual word of his impending retirement (a device which Fred Allen still uses—and insists he means this time). Now Benny is aboard the television wagon, riding it hell-bend-for-newspaper mentions.
On his last trip east this spring, for example, teevee was Jack's alleged oyster. His years in vaudeville were just what video needed. The matter of memorizing scripts? Why, that wasn't too formidable. He'd go on every other week, maybe, to start, and then increase the schedule. Get the cameras all set by September. Television was Jake with Jack.
Now Jack isn't so sure. In a quickie interview this week, he told me his mind is open on the question. He still thinks he's ready for television, but he's not so sure of the vice-versa angle!
"SUBTLETY doesn't register well as television now stands," he explained. "You can get the slapstick stuff across in television, sure, like hitting people with pies or buckling up like Leon Errol, but that's not my style, you know. I haven't gone in for slapstick in radio, and it wasn't my style in vaudeville, either. It seems to me that the comedians who are clicking in television have always been the noise-and-nonsense type. That's the only type television is ready for."
"I doubt that particular style will last (heaven help the poor psychiatrists if it does!), but why buck a passing fancy? What I'd do on teevee might seem so strange that people would laugh AT me instead of with me. So why take the risk when I'm doing all right in radio? Maybe I'll sit this season out. I won't really know until September."
Unlike a lot of other radio stars who are similarly on Indecision Street, Jack doesn't mind the dilemma.
"Why worry about it,” he insists. “The entertainment business is just the tinsel of life, anyway. Look underneath that tinsel and find the REAL tinsel."

There was another reason for Jack's skittishness which he expressed to the North American Newspaper Alliance. This was published starting June 30, 1949.

Benny in N. Y. Talking Video
By DAN ANDERSON
NEW YORK (NANA).—It all depends on the quality of kinescope recordings whether Jack Benny will be seen regularly on television, at least in the east, beginning in the fall, the comedian said recently. If the filmed versions of T. V. shows don't improve markedly above their present technical level, he won't be on.
* * *
Benny is here for conferences with executives of the Columbia Broadcasting system, to which he recently switched, and of the American Tobacco company, his sponsor, about television. He'll start back for the west coast soon, but probably will make no decision about going on television until early September.
Foregoing comedy, he explained, "it depends entirely on how much improvement there is in the quality of kinescope.
"It will have to improve to great deal. But some of the engineers say that it may in a very short time. I’ll make up my mind a few weeks before my radio show resumes. Early September probably is the dead line.
"Kinescope will have to be almost as good as live presentation for me to want to go on television with a regular program, probably half an hour every two weeks. It will have to be kinescoped to be shown here. It would be a physical impossibility for me to fly to New York every couple of weeks for a show and back to the Coast for my radio program.
"If I don't do a regular program, I might come here every two months or so for a big special program.
"I like television. I've been on once, when the CBS station opened in Los Angeles. That was live, of course.
* * *
"It was fine. It took me back to the days on the stage.
"The regular show, it I do it, will be a variety program, bringing in acts from the radio program. It will have to be done in Los Angeles, and if it isn't going to show well on kinescope, then my regular television appearances will have to be postponed for a year, anyway, even though I like it."

September rolled around. TV was on the air. Jack Benny wasn’t on it. The Los Angeles Daily News talked about it in its Sept. 10, 1949 issue.

New Jack Benny program Sunday full of vim, vigor
By WALT TALIAFERRO
(Radio and Television Editor)
Jack Benny proved to us he still has his mind concentrated on maintaining a top radio show rather than worry about television. We saw the rehearsal of the first Benny show of the season to be aired Sunday.
Instead of spoiling the fun for you by reviewing the show in advance we'll just tell you that the rehearsal was so good we are going to listen to the show too.
The vacations must have done the whole Benny gang good. They are in fine spirits and the writers gave out with a lively script to which you'll have to seep listening closely to keep up with the gags . . . if the audience doesn't drown them out.
Before Jack left on his vacation he told us—and we reported to you then—that he was not going to worry about television, but produce a top radio show.
We asked him yesterday if he had changed his mind.
"Definitely not. We’re going to get this show back on the air with the best of everything we have before we even think about television," Jackson said.
"Not that we've anything against television, but this will be our 18th consecutive year on this show . . . this is no time to split our efforts and do two things partly good instead of one really good," he added.
Benny emphasizes the fact that he has no commitments for any TV shows this season.
"If I do any at all . . . and that's not even certain . . . they will only be special occasions, not a regular show," he declared.
Even though this was the rehearsal of the first show of the season, the Benny gang had that same feeling of all being one big family that is reflected in the ease and happiness of their performances.
Even the violin virtuoso himself seemed happy they were all back to work again. And we got that impression we have often had while listening to Jack . . . he doesn't hog or steal the whole show.
We've watched rehearsals of some shown—with top performers too—and then listened to them and found that some of the good gag lines had been switched to the "star" because they were "too good" for the member of the cast for whom they had been written into the script.
If someone else in a Benny show can steal a scene with good lines . . . even an ad-lib, Jack doesn't highjack it. (And that was no pun either.) He leaves it in and lets the full benefit of the laughs go to the guy or gal who puts it over . . . or perhaps suggested it for the script.
Incidentally, one gag you won't hear on Sunday's show is the one Rochester pulled on yours truly . . . and he didn't mean it as a gag either, he just didn't know.
When he was introduced to Taliaferro, he said he'd been trying to get out and watch the games for a long time and still hoped to sometime. It threw us for a minute, but then it dawned that he was thinking he was meeting the great football player by that name.
We just aren't the same Taliaferro . . . as we have said before, we'll be happy if we can write as good as that one plays football. But as for physical effort . . . it's taken us a day to recover from landing a 25-pound white sea bass from the boat Alalunga on our day off Thursday.
Rochester, Mary Livingstone, Dennis Day, Phil Harris, Don (fat as ever) Wilson, and the rest of the cast will really be throwing their best at you Sunday afternoon at 4:00 p. m. and again at 9:30 p. m. over CBS-KNX.

To paraphrase the old song title, what a difference a year makes. Jack’s consternation about splitting efforts and flying to and from New York evaporated. Concern about kinescopes did, too. It was a matter of practicality (until Desi Arnaz, in a brilliant bargaining move, convinced CBS to allow him to film his TV show in Los Angeles in 1951). Jack began his TV career on Oct. 28, 1950, periodic at first. But his series remained on the air in 1965, done in at CBS by executive Jim Aubrey and then at NBC by competition down the dial.

Neil Sedaka Gets His Start

Something pleasant was mixed in with all the bad things that went on during the worldwide COVID-19 epidemic.

It was Neil Sedaka.

He kindly lent some comfort to people on-line by posting some short videos of him playing, and talking about, his old songs.

I was a teenage disc jockey (from the movie of the same name) when Sedaka made a comeback with a re-tempoed version of “Breaking Up Is Hard To Do,” getting a musical shout-out by Toni Tennille, and dueting with Elton John. Of course, in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s he had a nice string of pop hits.

Sedaka got attention in high school. He was one of 15 music students who won the sixth annual talent search of the New York Times and WQXR radio and appeared on the station, age 16, in April or May of 1956.

The New York Daily News of June 24, 1956 showed he was already getting out of the amateur category.

2 Teenagers Get Start on Music Ladder
Even before they get their diplomas Tuesday [26], a couple of Abraham Lincoln HS students are off to a lively start of musical careers.
Annette Farro, 17, of 2245 E. Fifth St., is one of the ambitious Brooklyn teenagers. She aims to be one-half of a girl singing team with her married sister, Rose, (a graduate of the same school, and already is being heard over the air waves via a record sung by the sisters.
The other talented student, 17-year-old Neil Sedaka, of 3260, Coney Island Ave., also is hitting the air waves through recordings of two songs he has written with an Abraham Lincoln High school alumnus, Howard Greenfeld [sic], who lives at the Coney Island Ave. address.
Faculty Composers
Indicating how things musical pop at this Brooklyn high school, Benjamin Goldman, of 2465 Haring St., Sheepshead Bay, chairman of its Music Department, is co-composer with another Brooklyn high school faculty member, of the song "I Found the Combination to Your Heart." He has also collaborated with Neil and Howard in composing a rock-n-roll number, "Wishing Well."
Describing the youngsters' accomplishments and the activities of others in the school's unique music course, the chairman said, "They show that many of these students will apply their musical training to future work just as mathematic majors will do in science or typists in business [sic]. It is gratifying."
Annette, slender and brown-eyed, has been active in the school's many musical doings, including singing with its student dance band and choral society.
Neil, a pianist who has won a scholarship to the Juilliard School of Music, has been busy too, along with his other studies at home in classical or pop music, he served as accompanist for the choral group and also the dance band.
Would Rather Sing
Annette, whose singing 19-year-old sister is Mrs. Salvatore Impoco, of 468 Ave V., Brooklyn, says, "I've no desire to go to college. I’d rather sing, even though it's hard to get a singing career started."
Neil, on the other hand, hopes after he completes his musical studies to go into teaching and continue composing and piano playing "on the side."
Recently he formed a pro singing group consisting of himself and three other students. It, too, has reached the record-making stage.

The Daily Province in Vancouver published a music page with the top ten songs on each of the local stations. Sedaka wasn’t in any of them on Dec. 20, 1957 (four of the five pop charts were topped with Jimmy Rogers’ “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine”) but there was an article about him, likely a release supplied by Decca’s distributor.

Play it smooth or 'rock'; Neil does both with ease
It's quite a jump from the classics to rhythm and blues — but it's a jump that young Neil Sedaka has bridged successfully. Neil, who makes his Decca bow with two original compositions, Snowtime and Laura Lee, is, when not rocking and rolling, a student of classical piano at the world-famous Juilliard School of Music.
This new facet of his musical activities is, as of now, a temporary one. For 17-year-old Neil still intends to follow the career that was his first love—the concert stage.
Neil was born in Brooklyn, N.Y., on March 13, 1940. As far as he is able to determine, he inherited his musical leanings from his grandmother, who had studied with Walter Damrosch.
By the time Neil was in the fourth grade of P.S. 253, his talent was recognized. He was right in front of the school chorus, and it was his teacher who suggested to Mrs. Sedaka that Neil should be given piano lessons. After getting the piano, Neil studied privately for one year. His progress was so rapid that at the end of that time his instructor recommended him to Juilliard, where he received a scholarship.
During his last year at the Juilliard prep school, Sedaka won the New York high school musical talent auditions, which were held before noted pianist Artur Rubeinstein [sic].
IN THE MEANTIME, however, he had started to go to parties and had, like other youngsters his age, developed an interest in pop music. With the full approval of his teachers at Juilliard, he entered into activities in this field with almost the same enthusiasm that he has always shown for the classics. He began to write tunes, he formed his own vocal group with a few other classmates at Lincoln High School, he has been musical director at summer camps and, during the summer of 1957, played and sang with the orchestra at the Lake Tarleton Club in New Hampshire.
On his first Decca release, Neil exhibits several of his talents. He is co-author of the two tunes, he plays the piano and sings not only the vocal lead, but all of the choral parts as well.

Billboard reviewed the release in its Dec. 7, 1957 issue. The review was dropped into its Country and Western category, along with records by Roy Acuff, Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, Grandpa Jones and the great Wanda Jackson. It explained:

Laura Lee DECCA 30520 – Bright, cheerful sounds by the chorus on this rock-a-blues gives it a good potential in both pop and c.&w. markets. It could catch on. (Norman-Leonard, BMI)
Snowtime
Rockaballad is fervently sung by the crew. This, too, could cop play, but flip appears a stronger try. (Norman-Leonard, BMI)

The next we hear of Sekada in Billboard is in its Sept. 15, 1958 edition, when it reviewed two songs: “Ring a Rockin’” backed with “Fly Don’t Fly on Me” on the Guyden label. This gained the attention of TV hitmaker Dick Clark, who featured him (and Julius La Rosa) on American Bandstand on Oct. 18, 1958.

In less than a month, Sedaka was recording for RCA. He was on his way.

It’s sad to learn of Sedaka’s death, but encouraging that he was a boy who fulfilled a dream and, years later, did what he could to help other people through a pandemic.

Such Language in a Cartoon

The familiar theme of noise/silence is explored yet again by Tex Avery in his final theatrical cartoon, Sh-h-h-h-h-h (Walter Lantz, 1955).

Unlike Avery’s other cartoons with this plot device, Mr. Twiddle doesn’t run into the distance and make noise. He and other characters hold up little signs instead.

In one scene, Twiddle stubs his toe on a footstool.



Cut to the sign gag and topper.



Notice Twiddle has a red nose like an Avery character at Warners in the late-'30s.

The cartoon is a disappointment to me. The idea of the hotel staff maintaining quiet is completely violated when noise comes from the room next to Twiddle’s. Why aren’t they taking any measures to deal with it? And in the opening scene, Twiddle’s reaction to the noise is weak compared to the emotional reactions of Avery’s wolf in Northwest Hounded Police at MGM ten years earlier.

Avery left Lantz after this cartoon and, after a bit, worked on TV commercials, which he found less stressful.

The picture everyone seems left with is Avery was a sad and broken man when Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera gave him a job near the end of his life, where he had to deal with the restraints of television and the sausage factory attitude of the studio.

As this was Avery’s final cartoon for the big screen, this is our final post as we go on an indefinite hiatus. Thank you for reading.