Life of Lantz

Walter Lantz always strikes me as a decent enough man, even though his cartoons left a lot to be desired as time went on.

He had an extremely long career, turning out inventive live action/animation combinations during the silent era, then being handed Oswald the rabbit from the hands of Charles Mintz and given a cartoon studio to run by Universal. He manoeuvred through the Golden Age, striking upon his own raucous cartoon character during the height of their popularity, then successfully managing to re-package his cartoons for television, complete with insightful little segments about how cartoons were made.

As the theatrical era wound down, Lantz set up charitable groups to help young people. He even went to Vietnam to meet with soldiers, not exactly something animation studio heads are known to do.

Here’s a full-page profile in the Motion Picture Exhibitor of May 8, 1957. He was soon to embark on a TV career, hosting a half-hour show a la Walt Disney.

Walter Lantz: Dean Of Cartoonists
Producer Walter Lantz, dean of the animated film cartoonists, is going strong in his 41st year of motion picture production.
Lantz broke into the animated cartoon business in 1916, at age 16, he got a job with the late Gregory LaCava in New York, when the cartoon industry was in its infancy. At that time, Lantz was an ambitious art student without professional experience. For the old-timers who remember such early, and jerky, film cartoons as The Katzenjammer Kids, Happy Hooligan, Krazy Kat, and Mutt And Jeff, Lantz played a prominent part in the films’ production.
Later, the J. R. Bray studio offered Lantz a better deal than the $10 a week he was making with LaCava, and he started making films for Bray. Among the best-known cartoons which Lantz created and directed for Bray were Pete The Pup, Dinky Doodle, and the most famous of them all, Colonel Hezza Liar [sic].

In these early films Lantz conceived the idea, which has been copied many times, of combining animation with live action. And, to cut costs, Lantz usually played the actor’s role himself. That was in 1922. Today the producer enjoys many a chuckle as he sees himself cavorting on a television screen when the late shows reel off the old cartoons. In Hollywood, the “Lantz Luck” is a well-known phrase. His “luck,” however, really started in 1928 when he traveled across the country for a short vacation in Hollywood and Carl Laemmle offered him the job of running Universal’s animated film cartoon department. Lantz stayed with Universal until he decided to form his own company at the time that Universal was considering closing out its own cartoon department. The two got together and set up a deal whereby Lantz would produce cartoons on his own and Universal would handle the distribution. For the past two decades, this arrangement has been mutually profitable.
Today, Lantz owns his own ultra-modern studio in the heart of Hollywood. Staffed by a creative group of artists and technicians, it turns out 13 cartoons a year for Universal release. Seven of the 13 films are Woody Woodpeckers.
In keeping with the “Lantz Luck,” there never would have been a celluloid Woody Woodpecker if it hadn’t been for Lantz’ wife, former actress Grace Stafford. To capsule a long story, a real woodpecker was driving Lantz crazy some years ago by knocking holes in the producer’s mountain cabin. Completely exasperated, Lantz finally got out his gun and was about to blast the noisy and destructive bird when Grace interceded with the observation that the woodpecker would make a good cartoon character.
So, the woodpecker’s life was saved and Lantz used him as a model for today’s Woody Woodpecker who, from his first public screening, zoomed to stardom and has remained popular ever since, to such a degree that when one thinks of Walter Lantz he automatically is reminded of this top cartoon character, the ace of the producer’s menagerie of mirth and merriment. Woody has been the star as well as the top money-maker of the stable since his creation a decade ago, and it appears that his popularity will not wane for many more years to come.

Lantz had quality people on his staff over the years. In a 1954 photo accompanying the article, you can see Mike Maltese in the front left, Don Patterson standing at the front right and Tex Avery in the back right. In the ‘40s, he hired good radio actors to supply voices when Blanc became tied to Warners, including Jack Mather, Will Wright, Walter Tetley and Lionel Stander. In the ‘50s, he brought in Daws Butler and June Foray and actually put their names on the screen.

A few of the Lantz cartoons I like:

Mars (1930). Weird things can happen in the early Lantz sound cartoons. In this one, Oswald the Rabbit ends up on Mars where bizarre combination creatures exist. The short boots along at a merry pace. Oswald sings and plays his theme song; mercifully, he’s not doing a Mickey Mouse falsetto.

Woody Woodpecker (1941). The closest thing to a Warners cartoon. Mel Blanc’s voice is all over the place as Woody and Dr. Horace N. Buggy are both nutcases, though without the energy of the early, screwed-up Daffy Duck.

Abou Ben Boogie (1944). The second of the Miss X cartoons. Pat Matthews animates a marvellous dancing camel as well as the sexy harem girl. Fine brassy score from Darrell Calker, who did good work on the other Swing Symphonies.

Musical Moments From Chopin (1947) Calker wasn’t only adept at swing, he was an excellent classical arranger. A drunken horse (again, Pat Matthews) and little living flames highlight this cartoon. Another classical cartoon, The Bandmaster (1947) has another fine score from Calker and more great animation from Matthews of a drunk on a high wire with pink elephants. Matthews gets my vote as the most unsung animator of the Golden Era.

Real Gone Woody (1954). The addition of writer Mike Maltese from Warner Bros. could even improve the tepid direction of Paul J. Smith. He puts down Guy Lombardo, parodies Johnny Ray and satirises the school sock-hop culture. We get a switch on his cake gag from Rabbit Hood.

The Legend of Rockabye Point (1955). Tex Avery directed four shorts for Lantz. This one has variations on Avery’s theme of “Don’t-make-noise-to-disturb-other-character,” including a gag with a clarinet and sheet music. Avery’s other Chilly Willy short, I’m Cold (1954), includes an even more laconic version of his Southern wolf at MGM with solid scenes. Dal McKennon supplies a good voice for the Old Salt.

Things went downhill from here, with increasingly lacklustre characters, one after another. There was nothing innovative. Gabby Gator? Inspector Willoughby? The Beary Family? Mrs. Meany? Did anyone laugh at them? Smile, even? Still, Lantz remained in business, keeping a loyal crew employed into the early ‘70s and supplying theatres with something, albeit watered-down slapstick.

Lantz complained endlessly about the lack of money he was getting from theatres to turn a profit. Despite that, he lived a comfortable lifestyle. He did find the money to come up with many enjoyable cartoons at his own studio, and was responsible for some entertaining shorts reaching back to his days with Dinky Doodle for the Bray studio in the ‘20s.

Walter Lantz was recognised over the years for his accomplishments. And deservedly so.