Banana Bugs

Bugs Bunny makes a 360-degree turn in perspective in Falling Hare (1943) as the gremlin trips him up with banana peels.

These are 17 consecutive drawings.

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Tom McKimson apparently animated this scene. The rotating screen credit for animation went to Rod Scribner.

Deer Mother-in-Law

In 1910, humourist Irvin S. Cobb wrote the mother-in-law joke was one of only eight jokes in the world, and all others were derivatives of the eight. (The “Peevish Wife” and the “Husband-Who-Comes-in-Stewed” were among the other two).

They were old then. And, more than 40 years later, Tex Avery was putting them on screen at MGM.

In Field and Scream (1955), the narrator tells us “Our old friend Ed here has designed a special deer hunting outfit for the mother-in-law.” Ed even helps her on with it.



It comes with a special accessory.



The mother-in-law strolls out of the scene. We hear a shot off-camera. Ed bows his head in mock sorrow.



A great look to cap the scene.



Grant Simmons, Mike Lah and Walt Clinton are the animators. Designs by Ed Benedict.

If you want an earlier example of a mother-in-law cartoon, here's one from a newspaper from 1903.

The Mid-60s Smothers

The Smothers Brothers are known today because of that moment when their variety show was pulled off television by CBS for daring to air comedy with a political viewpoint that upset the Nixon government (the same viewpoint they aimed at the previous Johnson administration).

Before that, they were like many comedians. They worked in nightclubs. They appeared at colleges and fairs. They were booked on TV talk shows and variety programmes. And they were among the many inked to that staple of the late 1950s and the 1960s—comedy records. Just like top tunes, the albums were reviewed in Billboard and in other publications.

Their first LP in 1961 consisted of routines recorded on stage at the Purple Onion in San Francisco. The article from the Newspaper Enterprise Association published Aug. 8, 1964 plugs their fifth record and goes into a bit of their background.

Smothers Brothers Recall Start in Entertainment
By JOAN CROSBY
NEW YORK (NEA) — Tom Smothers looks like a young advertising executive and Dick Smothers looks like a teacher, and that's what they both would have been if they hadn't been accidental successes as folk-singing comedians. The Smothers Brothers, whose delightful Mercury album "It Might Have Been Something I Said" is a fast-climbing hit, began singing in school in California, where they were raised.
"We were born on Governor's Island in New York," Dick said. "Our father was in the Army, and Fort Jay, on the island, was the cheapest place to have a baby."
"We began with a repertoire of two songs, 'Down By the Riverside' and 'It's a Sin to Tell a Lie," Dick said. "They were enough to get us runner-up spots in two amateur contests. One of the songs must have been weak."
They are the first in a long line of Smothers to enter show business, even though their initial appearances were hardly earth-shattering.
"We're the end of a great tradition," says Tom. "We're also carrying on the family tradition for mediocrity," adds Dick.
* * * * *
EVENTUALLY THEY achieved some fame and not much fortune in California when the first of their accidents occurred. An act canceled out of the Blue Angel in New York, and they were booked, one week before they were to open. "Jack Paar saw us,” Dick recalls. "But there was no spot for us on his show. Then another act canceled, and he put us on the show. Maybe we have had it too easy. The first two years we weren't making much money, but we were working steadily. We look around and see others who have talent but things just didn't happen to them. They don't get the break."
"It was only five and a half years ago that we began to sing," Tom, 27, says.
Dick. 25, thinks they would like to settle down into a television series, or make some movies in the future. Comedy albums for them, he says, are reaching the end. "Our well of material is running very shallow. Of course, we said that after our first album, and then we did half of our second album straight because we didn't have enough comedy material."
"Our first album sold seven copies," Tom says. “The second sold several hundred, and the third snowballed actually into the thousands."
Both Smothers are married, and Dick is the father of two children. Susan, 3 1/2, and little Little Dickie Smothers Jr., eight weeks. "I'm Little Dickie Smothers Sr., so he has to be little Little Dickie Jr."
"Have you heard," Tom asks, "that there is a rumor we are going to sign a contract with CBS like the one Barbra Streisand has? There is such a rumor. I'm starting it."

They did eventually sign with CBS, but that’s another story.



In their pre-CBS days, the Smothers Brothers managed to do something that would seem impossible. Folk music can be serious stuff. It is filled with messages to help the downtrodden, to battle injustice, to advocate for world peace. Tom and Dick managed to make fun of the genre without making fun of the message. This article from the Santa Barbara Press, Oct. 17, 1964, gives you an idea what was in their act.

COUNTY BOWL PACKED
Smothers Brothers In Madcap Show
By Bill Sluis
News-Press Staff Writer
Imagine something clean-cut, All-American and serious. Give it a bass fiddle and put it on stage. Then conjure up your idea of Freud's ID. Shape it into something that looks human with a red jacket. Put him on stage with a guitar, and you have it.
The Smothers Brothers —Tom, Dick and (there were no others).
Pack the County Bowl with 5.300 Smothers fans and Mad Magazine addicts. Wind everyone up on the Smothers' "Nor an Abernacle” choir. Sprinkle in some Addams Kids —this madcap concoction smothered the bowl with brothers—all two of them.
They're the Homer and Jethro of 1964. Talented, scoffing inane John Henry never got to be a railroad typhoon, Smothers sang. He was really a high school drop out. George Washington never told a lie, but got "smacked in the teeth" for chopping down the cherry tree. And the man "who sang to the trees" was really the man who talked to other things as well. (Like, he was nuts).
DEPRIVED CHILDHOOD
And Billy the Kid did all these bad things, like gunning folks down, because he had a deprived childhood, a deprived playground (no, other kids), a deprived sandbox (no sand), a deprived swing (no seat), and a deprived slide (straight down).
Last night can only be described as a "Smotheranny.” Nothing else quite does it. When they left around 11 p.m. no one had had enough. The Smothers lasted through it all with no problem. While Tom (the ID) acted through the entire act like a little boy with something "bad to tell everyone," Dick kept the crowd from being let in on the secret just in time.
Tremendous timing and great showmanship kept the crew-cut audience see-sawing from the naughty to the not-so-nice as Tom, the ID goes from that word he won't say to the cat he dropped 10 stories which, believe it or not, landed on all four and came up looking like a duck!
RETRIEVING CHICKEN
Bewildered Tom is still trying to get through to the folks back home, his brother, the audience, his "mommy and daddy," himself, and the retrieving chicken he used to have as a childhood pet. Somehow Smothers, the ID, his childhood, his country and his guitar-playing, all funnel into a mad mixture of irrelevance absurdity, innocence. (But, what can you do with a guy whose sandbox had no sand, whose swing had no seat and . . ?)
The act was broken up by some serious, non-spoofing folkwork by Esther Ofarim and Abraham. This Israeli couple sang five songs, each in a different language. They were the "real" thing.
But last night the audience was there to watch the Smothers poke holes into folkmusic, themselves, folk heroes, unrequited love's lament and about "hot cakes boiled in cabbage juice." And, about "Mediocre Fred," who punched a dock to show he was alive."

Some of their routines continued to be re-used as time went on (including a song involving cabbage). Fortunately, they can be seen on-line by people who weren’t around when Bill Paley pulled the plug.

The Missing Tail

A fight in the ring climaxes The Bully’s End, a 1933 Van Beuren cartoon.

As Gene Rodemich’s musicians play “Tiger Rag” in the background, fists fly. Well, and a tail disappears, thanks to an oversight by the animation checker. Each of these is shot on two frames.



It happens again, this time for one frame.



Notice the line of hat-wearing ducks in the first frame above. At Warners, you'd see in-between animation as Bosko splits into multiple versions of himself. Van Beuren doesn't even try. One frame, there's one duck. The next frame, there's a row of ducks. Then it goes from the line in one frame to one duck in the next.

Van Beuren cartoons never seemed to be big on dialogue. Here, the potential for comedy patter by the ring announcer is wasted by music and sound effects that practically drown him out.

Harry Bailey gets the "by" credit, and there's screen mention of the Rufle Baton and the Bray-Hurd Process.

The frames you see above are courtesy of the restoration efforts of Steve Stanchfield.

Wacky Stripper

Warner Bros. had cartoons titled Wacky Blackouts, Wacky Wild Life and The Wacky Worm, so why not a “wacky” cartoon at Screen Gems?

Wacky Wigwams (1942) has something else in common with Merrie Melodies. Besides being a spot-gag cartoon like Wacky Wild Life by Tex Avery, a variation on Avery’s stripper gag from Cross Country Detours (1940) found its way into the short.

“Back in the days of the covered wagon,” intones the narrator, “the territory which is now called the state of Oklahoma was known as the Cherokee Strip.” The panning camera stops on a helpful sign.



The camera resumes panning. Why look! It’s a stripping Cherokee!



The gag in Cross Country Detours ends with a card over the stripper’s body so we can’t see her naked. In Wacky Wigwams, guess what?



Even a better-looking print can't save this one.

Columbia put out another “wacky” cartoon—Wacky Quacky (1947) which featured a duck resembling Daffy engaging in Warners-type gags with a dumpy, bald hunter.

Cancelling Jack Benny's Birthday

Jack Benny’s career in Canada was an odd one.

Starting in fall 1944, Canadians had to listen to, or later watch, his show from American border stations. Lucky Strike cigarettes were not sold north of the 49th.

However, Jack was seen on Canadian TV semi-regularly on Shower of Stars, sponsored by Chrysler.

Except once. And it had nothing to do with American Tobacco.

The famous broadcast where Jack celebrated his 40th birthday did not appear in Canada. It was scheduled to air on the CBC at the same time as on CBS—February 13. It didn’t. Then it was supposed to be broadcast two weeks later. It wasn’t. It was replaced it with an episode of Climax, also sponsored by the Chrysler Corporation.

Here’s Bob Blackburn of the Ottawa Citizen, Feb. 20, 1958.

Give Us The Shower They Promised Us
The sponsors snap the whip in this league.
The Chrysler Corp. has decided that we are not to see the Jack Benny Shower of Stars production which, last Thursday night, was aired to mark Mr. Benny's "40th" birthday.
You may remember, this program was scheduled and advertised on CBOT for last Thursday, but was replaced by the Bell Telephone Company's latest episode in their science series.
There was indignation over the fact that this program was put in the place of a special edition of a regular show, which was to be the Benny anniversary show, and it was felt that the science program might have been aired any week, while the Benny show could only have been seen live on that date.
The last word we had from CBOT was that the Benny show would be presented to us via kinescope tonight. At the last minute it was called off, and the reason, we were told, was that the sponsors in Canada had seen a screening of the show, and didn't think it was all that funny. Anyway, they made the decision that the Benny birthday show is not to be seen by Canadian viewers, who will see, in its place, the regular edition of Climax, just as though there had been no interruption.
Now, this is the privilege of the sponsor, who, after all, is paying the shot. Were it not for him, we wouldn't get any of this stuff. Yet I venture to suggest that while the sponsors have designed wonderful cars, they are not noted for their sense of humor. In a matter like this, I would rather see the whole thing thrown up to the viewing public.
We did not see this show originally as we should have, but, on the basis of past experience. I think that any show with Jack Benny in it would be as much worth the sponsor's time and trouble as any play Climax is likely to offer this week or next. It seems to me damnably presumptuous of the sponsor to assume that, whatever he may have thought about the Benny show, he should take it upon himself to decide that Canadians would not be amused sufficiently to warrant telecasting the show as scheduled.
It was a gross error at the time to cancel this show, especially in view of the fact that the kinescope would be a muddy substitute, at best, and the sponsor must have realized this. But, so promise faithfully that viewers would see it a week late and then to renege on that promise without giving the viewers themselves a chance to decide whether they had suffered any loss must surely be considered poor policy.
I'm dwelling on this at such length simply because the issue has aroused such interest originally. Sponsors, it strikes me, have dubious senses of humor and I think that a very bad show built around Jack Benny would be a much more worthwhile experience they any play Climax has aired this season. Good or bad, let's see that Shower Of Stars.

Chrysler may not have liked “bad” shows but it disliked bad publicity even more. The car company came up with an exercise in semanatics which Blackburn brought to his readers on March 20.

I have an apology to make here. The Chrysler Corporation has taken exception to the remarks I made over the matter of the Jack Benny Shower Of Stars show which was displaced last month by the Bell Telephone science program on meteorology.
The remarks made in this column were inspired by information supplied by the CBC I reported, and commented on, that information in good faith. If it was erroneous the Chrysler Corporation is entitled to make a statement in correction.
The Chrysler Corporation wishes to point out that it made no commitment to carry a kinescope of the missing show, and consequently cannot be accused of cancelling the telecast of the kinescope. The Corporation also wishes to point out that the original cancellation of the live telecast of the Shower Of Stars was arranged by the CBC in order to accommodate the special program in question and that the action was beyond any control of the Chrysler Corporation.
This column has not infrequently sung the praises of productions footed by the same sponsor, and it certainly was no intention of mine to blame that sponsor idly. I must say in the light of the sponsor’s letter that no blame attaches to him for the omission of the program in question (Show[er] Of Stars. Feb. 13. 1958, for the record), and I must repeat that the comments made were based on information given by proper CBC authority in the usual manner.

The unanswered question is “Why did Chrysler decide not to air the kinescope?” Certainly it couldn’t have been an un-decision, as the car maker suggested. It had bought the air-time.

Regardless, the idea of Jack-as-40 was a gimmick. It was not met with universal favour. Don Freeman of the Copley News Service equated it to dismantling Jack’s “skillfully wrought character” and wondered what would be left if more elements were stripped away. Freeman wasn’t the only newspaper writer leery about the idea. As it was, 40 was temporary. Writer Sam Perrin admitted to the Atlanta Constitution it was a mistake.

Jack guest-wrote a syndicated column in 1963, saying, “I suppose I should mention the time some of my associates talked me into turning 40. I felt just terrible all the time I was 40—about six weeks. Finally, I decided the heck with it and went back to being 39.”

Despite his chequered career on Canadian radio and TV for a while, when Benny died at age 80 in 1974, he was front-page news in Canada. The Montreal Gazette opened its obit with “Jack Benny, 39, died of cancer early yesterday at the age of 80.”

Cartoons of 1913

Yes, there were cartoons on movie screens before 1914’s Gertie the Dinosaur. And the creator of some of them never lived into the time of the silent Oswald the Rabbit.

Lyman H. Howe (right) began showing movies in the late 19th Century and turned to animation.

In 1913, Howe’s cartoons were being screened in a travelling exhibition across the U.S. A publicity release with artwork was sent to newspapers where an editor could fill in the name of the theatre and the date the film would be shown. Here’s how it read:

HOWE MOVIES WITH MANY NEW CARTOONS
The Annual Treat Comes This Week with New Features
The animated cartoons that have been presented by Lyman H. Howe on each of his more recent engagements in this city, have inspired many queries "How it is done?"' The remark has often been overheard "I wonder how they do it?" while these quaint and amusing cartoons were convulsing the audience with laughter. They afford an illustration of the fact that amazement and amusement are closely allied. These cartoons are only one of the many distinctive features by which Howe's exhibition is, always so pleasantly remembered,—but it is a feature as important as it is exclusive. They cannot be seen at other exhibitions because Mr. Howe reserves them strictly for his own use, and evidently other film producers find them too difficult of execution and too costly to manufacture. At all events, Howe claims that although each of several of the "regular" travel and spectacular features on his new program, costs a small fortune, yet none is more expensive than these snappy, lively "trick" pictures which so cleverly burlesque the serious, topical, industrial and natural history subjects presented. They leaven the entire exhibition with a rollicking and wholesome comedy which the most jaded theater goer finds simply irresistible.
The amusing antics of these cartoons are followed as intensely as the audience as any scenes of the most stirring nature. Thereby they prove how keenly "a little nonsense now and then is relished by the best of men."
The legion of "Howe travelers"' who always find these whimiscal cartoons so delightful and refreshing, may be surprised to know that their production requires not only rare skill in designing the figures but also infinite patience in directing their movements. When an artist draws a cartoon for a newspaper, his work is finished when he hands it in to the editor. Not so with the artist-creators of Howe's animated cartoons. The drawing of the figures is only the first step—and the easiest—in the process. It is only the beginning of weeks of pains-taking labor of the most exacting and nerve-racking kind in the making of only one short strip of film, possibly no more than 30 feet in length. Directing the movements of the figures is a task that requires consummate skill, judgment, originality, a fine sense of humor and the unfailing patience of Job.
Among quite a few of these animated cartoons included in the pro-gram to be presented at the [fill in name of theatre and dates], Mr. Howe promises two of the most amusing subjects that have ever been produced in his studios. One of these depicts the strange and kaleidoscopic adventures of tourists making the descent of the Grand Canyon of Arizona on mule-back. Things happen—and happen very fast. The burros have certain ideas of their own. They proceed to carry them into effect and their "stunts" would make the wildest flights of fancy seem tame by comparison with any exploits recorded in "Gulliver's travels or the Arabian Nights. When the "cow jumped over the moon" it was dead lame compared to these Grand Canyon burros. However, in another subject entitled "A Baseball Game" the cartoonist has let his humor and imagination run riot resulting in an avalanche of fun. It is "some" game. It reaches above the earth so that a field glass is necessary to locate the players, and sometimes underneath the earth. The pitcher delivers not merely curves, but parabolas, concentric circles, and other geometric figures usually recorded only in geometries. His exploits make the best efforts of your favorite pitcher sink into insignificance, no matter who he may be. So, too, with the other players here engaged in "our national game." Their achievements are heroic beyond the wildest dream of the most ardent baseball “fan." However, whether you are a "fan" or not, doesn't matter in the least. The humor of the situations, the mock seriousness and grotesque antics of the players afford so much comedy that the entire game from start to finish is irresistibly funny for everyone.

Charles Musser’s book on Howe, published by Princeton University Press, points out:

After 1899, the man no longer traveled with his show. After 1907, most decisions for the Howe enterprise were made by Howe’s partner and general manager, Max Walkinshaw. Lyman H. Howe’s Hodge Podge, a series of short subjects made in the 1920s and early 1930s, was initiated by a Howe associate when Howe was already seriously ill. It continued for ten years after his death.

The first Hodge Podge, King Winter, was released on Oct. 22, 1922 through Educational Pictures. There were 110 releases. Not all included animation, as you can see by the trade ad below.


Howe died on the morning of Jan. 30, 1923 at the Christian Science Sanatorium in Boston.

This post is a hodge-podge; I’m not focusing on Howe’s career. Nor is this post an in-depth look at animation that year, it’s merely passing along random clippings.

The trade paper The New York Clipper had this brief item on June 14 (longer versions appeared in other trades):

Selig to Release Animated Cartoons.
For some months past the Chicago studios of the Selig Polyscope Company have been engaged upon the production of a series of pictures which will depict the famous comic supplement character, "Old Doc Yak," specially drawn by his creator, Sydney Smith. The series will be known, by the title of "Seligettes,” and will be numbered consecutively. For the present the series will be devoted to animated cartoon comedies of The Chicago Tribune’s famous front page comic character, "Old Doc Yak." The subjects will necessarily be restricted in length as it requires several thousand carefully prepared drawings to make a few hundred feet of film story. "Seligettes No. 1," the first subject in the series, will be released on July 8, as half of a comedy split reel. The title of the individual picture will be "Old Doc Yak."

Unfortunately, the shorts don’t appear to exist any more, according to Tommy Stathes. You can learn more about them at this web page.

A studio in Fort Lee, N.J. got into the cartoon business. This item appeared in several newspapers:

The one biggest laughing hit of the year in film circles is the Newlywed series of animated cartoons, which is being presented by the Éclair Company.
Everyone is, of course, familiar with the very clever cartoons of George McManus. The Éclair company has made arrangements with Mr. McManus for the rights to use these cartoons in films, and the result has been a novelty which has set the entire film work on edge. The first question from all is “How do they do it?”
The animated cartoons are funny—there is no question about that. The series is a hundred times funnier than would have been possible had people been used to act out the ideas.
In order to give the effect of actual lines moving—it is necessary to draw thousands of separate and distinct cartoons which are separately photographed. These men run in the quick succession of the moving picture projecting machine give the effect of smooth and natural motion about 8,000 separate drawings must be made to secure ten minutes of action on the screen.

One other cartoon producer should be noted. A review in the Oregonian, Dec. 8, 1913 advises:

If you are seeking amusement today the show at the Globe Theater is full of it. Colonel Heeza Lion, in Africa [sic], starts the fun. It is one of Bray’s animated cartoons and you cannot help wondering how it is done. The Colonel meets many funny animals and his adventures are extremely ludicrous.

Bray’s cartoons released by Pathé (starring the Colonel and others, including Lovesicko the Monk in the ad to the right) got favourable reviews in the papers. To learn about Bray’s silent cartoons you can do no better than by clicking on this page.

Stan Freberg Presents: 100 Years

There’s a lot to like in a Freberg.
Sneakers. Glasses.
Flip-top head.

There are some things missing in that phoney jingle (to the tune of the one heard in Marlboro commercials way-back-when). There’s cartoon and puppet voice acting. There are parody and children’s records. There are two radio series from the 1950s (okay, they were hit-and-miss). And there are satiric TV commercials.

Stan Freberg did a lot of funny things. He would have turned 100 today. I don’t often post about dead celebrity birthdays, but Stan Freberg was an exceptional individual, so I am making an exception. And it's really more about satire and skittish, hidebound TV executives than Freberg himself.

He had enough of a name in 1962 to manage to land a TV special. But Freberg had some problems, much like he did with CBS censors when he convinced the network to give him a half hour comedy-variety radio show in 1957.

Something else to like in a Freberg for newspaper columnists was he was quotable and articulate. Several of them jumped at the chance to let him promote his special. Sorry Charles Witbeck of King Features, Bob Thomas of the AP, and Fred Danzig and Jack Gaver of UPI, but I’ve picked Hal Humphrey’s syndicated column to reprint. This appeared in papers on Sunday, Feb. 4, 1962.

It Wasn’t Easy, Mom!
Stan Freberg ‘Invades’ Television
HOLLYWOOD — Where else but on American TV could we see a show starring a Baptist minister's son named Freberg, sponsored by a Chinese food company, owned by an Italian by the name of Palucci?
The title for this 60-minute egg roll, which hits ABC at 6:30 p.m. today, runs almost as long as the show itself. It is "The Chun King Chow Mein Hour Starring Stan Freberg."
In case you've been remiss in keeping up with our culture, Stan Freberg is a puppeteer, raconteur, recording star and creator of funny TV-radio commercials. One of his commercial accounts is the Chun King Corp.
"I was sitting in my office one afternoon talking to myself, and I let the performer side of me sell the businessman side of me on this idea of a TV special to celebrate Chinese New Year's Eve for the year 4660," Stan explains.
It is generally conceded in TV circles that if you have a show and a sponsor (with money), you are fair bait for the networks. Stan discoverer that free enterprise is not so.
"I WENT TO NBC with my show, but they wouldn't take it because I had no big-name guest star. I'm not sure what NBC means by a big-name guest star, although I recall they used to employ Leo Durocher in that capacity frequently," says Stan with perhaps a trace of sarcasm.
"Anyway, my next call was to CBS, but I couldn't even get anyone there to listen. At ABC I got in the door and was told they might have a time for me provided they could see a script by last April."
Stan delivered the script, and it took ABC only 10 months to find him a time spot.
A more sensitive man might have got the impression that he wasn't wanted on TV, but after years of such nearsightedness by the networks where Stan is concerned, he has managed to work up an immunity to their insults.
SOMETHING ELSE STAN has is a sense of humor about himself. The theme of his TV special is hung around the fact that people usually refer to "that guy with the glasses," because they can't think of his name.
"We're working on two things in this show," says Stan. "There's my desire to be identified, and secondly we're checking to see if viewers are still hungry after watching one hour of a show sponsored by a Chinese food company."
Stan, of course, has created the commercials for his show, as well as writing the book and lyrics for it. All of the commercials are integrated into the proceedings except one in the middle. Stan finally overcame its orthodox look by misspelling the sponsor's name.
One of the entertainment segments is a special animated seven minutes built around the sale of Manhattan Island. The music and lyrics are from Stan's record album, "Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America." Network radio stations decided when it was first released that Stan's fun-poking at United States history was "not in good taste.”
Even his sponsor decided that Stan should drop his plan to include another of the album's numbers, 'Take an Indian to Lunch This Week." It revolves around a mayor running for re-election in colonial New England, and he is worried about capturing the Indian vote, so he sings 'Take an Indian to lunch this week; make a feathered friend feel fed this week, and overlook the fact he's red this week...."
Stan believes that what TV needs more than anything is honesty, he has proven it many times when creating commercials for the medium.
"My secret weapon in the commercials I do is honesty. It comes as such a shock to a public who have been lied to, that they go out and buy the product just out of appreciation," Stan analyzes.
The coming Chinese New Year which Stan is celebrating is known as the Year of the. Tiger. Maybe it also will turn out to be the Year of Stan Freberg,

Okay, I’ve changed my mind. Witbeck’s column features network idiocy that’s too good to pass up.

Freberg Does Chinese Special
By CHARLES WITBECK
TV Key Columnist
HOLLYWOOD—Not many people are aware of this but Chinese New Year's is Feb. 5th, and to celebrate it properly Stan Freberg has an hour's TV show on New Year's Eve, Sunday, Feb. 4th on ABC.
Mr. Freberg became a Chinese specialist a year and a half ago when he created commercials plugging Chun King's Chow Mein in which he stated that 95 per-cent of the country did not eat the delicacy.
"The president of the Chun King Corporation, Mr. Paulucci (you like that) was upset by those big figures," said Mr. Freberg. " 'Stan, you don't have to tell 'em the truth,' he said. I answered, why not put the truth in advertising for a change."
Mr. Freberg happened to be correct. In three months more than 5 per cent of the country gobbled chow mein. Mr. Paulucci was so impressed he told Freberg to go ahead and write an hour's TV show and he would sponsor it.
This took a little time because if he's one thing for certain, Stan Freberg is a perfectionist. Finally the script was finished and Stan called network X to learn of their interest. Network X wouldn't even consider reading the script.
Next call went to network Y, and after the opening remarks, the gentleman in charge of giving o.k.'s to shows said quickly, "Who's the guest star?"
"Saul Bass," replied Freberg.
"Who's Saul Bass?"
"Ever see 'Round The World in 80 Days'?"
"Was he in it?"
"He did the titles," answered Stan.
After a moment of silence the man said he'd have to see a script. "Maybe we could give you a little time in the summer," he added.
Freberg said he wanted to do it on Chinese New Year's Eve.
"We don't go around giving time out like that," the man said and wound up the conversation.
So in desperation Stan went to ABC, and his timing was perfect, because he walked in the day before FCC head Newton Minow made his now famous "wasteland" speech and asked for improved programming.
Ready to show Mr. Minow, ABC snapped up Stan's Chinese epic with Saul Bass, and in appreciation Freberg immediately put Mr. Minow's name in the script.
"I even wanted Mr. Minow to appear on our program," said Stan. "But if he did, the thing would get out of hand. Then Dinah would want him and Perry."
Now about the show. It mainly concerns Freberg's attempt to do a TV Chinese New Year's show amidst interruption from networks, agencies and other interest seekers. Saul Bass has designed the graphic element and features a solid five minute animated sequence about the island of Manhattan and a character: Peter Tishman. Seven-year-old Chinese star Ginny Tiu turns up, but she will not play the piano for a change and she'll be joined by meek, high-voiced Sterling Holloway and Orville, Freberg's outer space puppet.
"This is the first show I've ever done on my own," said Stan, "and I'll never do another one. It's too exhausting."
"One thing this show is going to have is the best musical sound ever," said Freberg. "That's because nobody ever took this much time with music. We've spent 8, 10 and 12 hours of just rehearsals with the Billy May Band. "People say, 'think pictures.' I say think pictures and sound.
"Why we've got a Sing Along With Freb bit that is madness. There's a bouncing coin that hops along above words the audience is supposed to sing and it jumps right into a cash register. And there I am, Freb, waving my arms, leading my singers, and we're going faster and faster. Finally my arms turn into propellers, and old Freb takes off."
It is hoped Freb will have the energy to take off. Interviewed before he began the six-day tape job, Stan seemed a hit weary. His brain was hopping, but could the body keep up.
“I've prepped for this," said writer Stan, co-producer and big-boss Freberg. "I've been running around the block in Beverly Hills and swimming four laps in the pool. And I've also been eating the good, delicious chow mein. Happy New Year."

Since you will want to celebrate the Freberg-day, why not do so in style? You can find the complete run of the 1957 Freberg radio show, including Daws Butler, June Foray and Peter Leeds, by clicking here and maybe the most famous of his parody records, St. George and the Dragonet, with Daws Butler, June Foray and announcer Hy Averback below.