Why Is Jay Ward in the Sports Column?

The concepts of Iron Curtain spies and science fiction space aliens are a little outdated, but remain entertaining when placed in the right hands. And, in this case, the hands belonged to the people at Jay Ward Productions.

Rocky and His Friends debuted in 1959. Its cartoons are still enjoyable. You can put dopey moose Bullwinkle in all kinds of situations—witness the “Bullwinkle’s Corner” and “Mr. Know-It-All” segments—and get fun out of them. It’s still fun almost 60 years later.

“Fractured Fairy Tales” still hold up, thanks to clever stories and excellent voice casting.

Several columnists acclaimed Ward and his staff in the early going (before moving to NBC, adding Dudley Do-Right and becoming The Bullwinkle Show). Perhaps the most unusual spot for praise was in Jim Scott’s sports column of Oct. 17, 1960.

Actually, it wasn’t unusual at all. Scott wrote for the Berkeley Daily Gazette, Ward’s hometown paper. He fit Ward into his commentary about U.C. Berkeley’s 27-10 defeat by the U.S.C. Trojans football team.

Of Rocky's Best Friend—Jay Ward
AMONG THE CAL ROOTERS at the game was J. T. (Jay) Ward. You may know him as the Domingo Ave. realtor. But he's a legend in Hollywood — though he's been there only a year. Jay's in the animated cartoon business. You've seen "Rocky And His Friend," [sic] TV's highest rated daytime show. That's his. General Foods paid him $2 million for 78 issues. Coming up are "Hoppity Hooper," "Watts Gnu" and "Super-Chicken."
I toured Jay's three buildings on Sunset Blvd. His office is in an apartment in a Spanish courtyard. There he and his co-producer, Bill Scoutt [sic], run the show, which includes (temperamental) artists. In addition, Jay maintains a unit in Mexico City, where more than 100 cartoonist ink out the bulk of his work. In his Sunset studio the artists come and go as they please. Some do the work in their homes. The most industrious seemed to be a little guy who was turning out merchandising ideas for Jay's weird creatures. Actors, directors, animators, musicians and designers also are involved.
One of Jay's pledges, Marcelle Philpott, who picked me up at the Biltmore, turned out to be a 1950 Berkeley High grad. She said that Jay's so successful because he alone can handle artists. "Artists respect him," explained Miss Philpott, "because he does only quality work and is such a warm and understanding human being. He's fair with everyone. They wouldn't work for anyone else!”
The real estate business was inherited from his father; Jay's heart has always beat for cartooning. Why back in 1948, before television had even come to the Bay Area, Jay got the idea of combining for it newspaper cartoons with Hollywood animation. He and his boyhood pal, Alex Anderson, came up with the enormously successful "Crusader Rabbit." But they lost the property when the sales agency which had taken it over went bankrupt.
Crusader Sparked It All
The Crusader's financial romp was a gnawing challenge to young Ward to do it again. He came up with Rocky, the flying squirrel. To do it right, he went to Hollywood, started hiring the best talent. Yet he made his pilot film for only $5,000. His voices include such well known names as those of Edward Everett Horton and Charley Ruggles.
"You probably never heard of three others whom we use," said Jay. "They're Paul Frees, Daws Butler and Walter Tetley. But they're the highest paid performers in Hollywood. Their voices in cartoons net each of them $250,000 a year."
You know what a copy-cat Hollywood is. You see it even in the architecture near Jay's office. A new bank, Lytton Savings, on Sunset, has a folded, zigzag roof. Well, before it could be completed, an elegant hot-dog stand, "The Plush Pup," went up next door—with an identical roof.
But Ward doesn't fear such competition. "There are lots of artists in Hollywood," he said, "but not too many good ones. Most of mine started out with Disney. It takes a long time to learn this business. You have to wait for the profits, too. But, when they come, they can be oh so delightfully big."
Although Jay, a brilliant organizer, works a seven-day week on Sunset, he still operates his Domingo Ave. realty business, still is a member of the Berkeley Tennis Club, across the street from it. Several months ago, his wife and three children moved to Hollywood. They live within walking distance of Jay's studios.
While Ward has made many cartoon commercials, he's interested only in the big stuff with the heavy residues [residuals?]. (“Rocky” already has been sold to Australia, and all sorts of merchandisers are making use of the squirrel.)
Has Hollywood changed Jay Ward? Oh, he has acquired a something of a pot. But he still has all that thick black hair, the same easy smile and engaging ways that were his in his BTC and realty days.
"This work is fun, Jim." he said. "Actually, I'd be doing it if I didn't make a damned cent."
WHAT'S JAY WARD GOT TO DO with sports? Not much, actually. It's just fun, now and then, to do a success story for a change of pace.

Ward never got Watts Gnu on the air; no one wanted a puppet series. Hoppity Hooper was picked up by ABC in 1964. It was one of Ward’s lesser efforts. Super Chicken finally got on the tube in 1967 as part of George of the Jungle, and some people say it was funnier than the title show.

The company’s cash flow likely came from Quaker Oats, as it put its brand of humour (and stock cast) into more than a decade’s worth of commercials for Cap’n Crunch cereal (ending in 1984). Several other proposed projects never got off the ground and Ward retreated into the former Plush Pup hot-dog place and opened Dudley Do-Right’s Emporium, standing behind the counter and meeting fans who had no idea whom they were talking with.

A number of cartoon studio owners or managers had no background in animation. Ward was one of them. But he allowed talent to flourish and we can still smile at the fruits of their labours.

No Longer An Aardvark

The witch in the Fractured Fairy Tales version of “Hansel and Gretel” has only one power. She can turn boys into aardvarks.

She agrees to change Hansel back if Gretel teaches her how to fly. Edward Everett Horton narrates to us Gretel did and the witch kept her word. Here’s the conversion animation. Stylised, on twos and threes.



This cartoon was animated for Jay Ward by Sam Nicholson/Gerry Ray’s TV Spots. Alex Anderson wrote the story, as revealed by Keith Scott in his fine book The Moose That Roared

She's a Piano Top and an Underwater Pen

Is it possible to pick a favourite voice of June Foray?

There are so many of them, and likely all kinds we have never heard because of the countless commercials she was hired to do.

It’s a treat to run into articles about her. She must have entertained millions of people so any recognition is welcome, especially in the 1950s and ‘60s when almost all voiceover people were anonymous (unless they appeared in cartoons).

Her first screen credit for animation came from Walter Lantz, despite her long career at Warner Bros. She worked for MGM, Format Films (The Alvin Show) and, well, I’ll stop there because long lists are the province of other places on the internet.

Here’s a short column from the Copley News Service that appeared in papers in 1963. Jay Ward would be interested to know he didn’t come up with Fractured Flickers. And Foray’s predecessor at Warners, Bea Benaderet, gets her name spelled wrong again.

ACTRESS PROFITABLY FATED TO BE HEARD, NOT SEEN
By DONALD FREEMAN
HOLLYWOOD, July 4 (CNS)—Although she would dearly love to be entrusted with a serious dramatic role, it is June Foray's enviable financial fate to be summoned whenever producers need the voice of a cat or a dog or a parrot. Or, for that matter, a visitor from the moon or a pen that's so happy to be writing under water or the evil Natasha on the "Bullwinkle" show or any of a hundred voices that comprise this gifted actress' repertoire.
This coming season, for instance, she will be heard as Bunny, girl friend to the title character in the new "Beetle Bailey" cartoon series.
She’ll be several voices on Hanna-Barbera's new "Fractured Flickers" show. And she'll be all kinds of voices on a variegated roll call of commercials, some of them easy assignments, some not so easy.
"But then, we voice people do have a certain—ah, artistic freedom," Miss Foray pointed out the other day. "They ask you to be the sound of the top of a piano being polished—who knows what the top of a piano sounds like? Who knows what a girl from the moon sounds like? In a word, we wing it."
• • •
MISS FORAY, A CHARMING package who stands about a whisper over five feet tall, is one of a handful of voice specialists in Hollywood, There are perhaps seven or eight performers available who can rattle off at least 10 voices each. In that department the list begins and virtually ends with such people as Mel Blanc, Alan Reed, Bea Benadaret [sic], Daws Butler, Paul Frees, Dave Barry and Jim Backus (who is, incidentally, the Little Old Winemaker) and Miss Foray herself. Because of this scarcity and the great demand for a diversity of voices, the pay is quite ample.
"Financially — let's face it — it is utterly fantastic," Miss Foray noted. "What does 'fantastic' mean? Well, if you make more money than the president of the United States that, to me, is fantastic. Back in radio I used to make a nice living wage but 15 years ago if someone would have said, 'June, you're gonna end up with a tax problem,' I'd have howled with idiot laughter."
• • •
RARELY ON TELEVISION does Miss Foray emerge as her own pert self although last season she did just that on an Arthur Godfrey special, demonstrating some of her voices. She has supplied six voices for "The Flintstones," for example, and all the female voices, from Natasha to Nel Fenwick, on the "Bullwinkle" show.
If duty calls, she can do the voices of cats, chickens, roosters, parrots, lambs, goats, donkeys, crows and on and on in the bird-animal kingdom. She does eerie sounds that would frighten Alfred Hitchcock.
Name a dialect and Miss Foray can rattle it off in any voice you ask—Irish, Cockney, Swedish, French, Russian, sectional accents from every section of the land from Southern to Brooklyn to Eastern to Texas.
Miss Foray herself is native to Springfield, Mass., and started in radio at age 12.
In private life, Miss Foray is married to the writer, Hobart Donovan.

June Foray is one of those people who makes me smile when I hear her voice and feel happier afterwards. That’s actually not a bad accomplishment for the top of a piano.

Let Me Tell You About Bullwinkle

It took a little time, but newspaper columnists slowly discovered a cartoon series starring a moose and a squirrel bathed in send-ups and puns.

Production delays pushed back the start of Rocky and His Friends on ABC until November 19, 1959. The Copley News Service profiled the show, and producers Jay Ward and Bill Scott, in a column published in a newspaper in Ontario, California on July 24, 1960. The writer doesn’t seem to have watched the show at all up until that point.

Scott’s story about leaving the Warner Bros. cartoon studio is pure fiction and written for laughs, though he didn’t have anything good to say years later about producer Ed Selzer, who fired him.

Unlikely Pair Plan Adult Cartoons For Next Season
By DONALD FREEMAN
HOLLYWOOD (CNS)— Animated cartoons for adults as well as children are going to be big on television next season. One such series is “Rocky and His Friends,” the brainchild of two unlikely young men named Jay Ward and Bill Scott. The show itself was on the air for 26 weeks last year, in the coming season it will grace the American Broadcasting Co. on Sundays and Thursdays.
Who are Jay Ward and Bill Scott?
To begin with, both are on the plump side and each, confiding to you, expresses the solemn view that the other looks exactly like a bespectacled fire hydrant.
In common with everyone I have ever bumped into in the animated cartoon field, Ward and Scott are blessed with minds that shoot off in — well, unusual directions. This is illustrated at the mindset by the nature of their hero — Rocky, the star of the cartoon, is a flying squirrel.
Now, conjuring up such an animal demands special gifts and both Ward and Scott (with their wild, wild eyes behind their respective glasses) breathe such gifts in abundance.
“We work well together,” said Ward, who takes delight in the fact that he drives a 1948 Packard, “because I am nearsighted and Scott is farsighted. We discard our glasses and we see things quite differently. However, we agree on food — our favorite combination is pizza and popcorn. Brainfood, you know.”
Actually, Ward and Scott have excellent track records in animated cartoons. Scott, who calls himself a “heavy-bottomed Puck,” and “the world’s oldest callow youth,” broke into the cartoon writing business with Warner Bros. in 1946.
“I was writing clever dialogue for Okapis, fruit bats and other odd beasts,” Scott recalled. “After a year of this I got into a terrible fight with an aardvark over the way a scene I’d written should be played. When I found out the aardvark carried more weight with the producer than I did, I left in high dudgeon.”
Later Scott worked on “Time for Beanie” and then moved to UPA studios as a writer and by 1956 was the assistant producer of the “Gerald McBoing-Boing” show. Among others, he has written scripts — yes, even cartoon people must have scripts — for the nearsighted Mr. Magoo and the redoubtable Bugs Bunny.
As for Ward — “I was born in San Francisco with a silver spoon in my mouth. Fourteen years later someone suggested that I remove it. Naturally, I was dropped from the Social Register, but I at least lost my boyhood nickname of ‘The Mumbler.’
Professionally, Ward was co-producer of “Crusader Rabbit,” first cartoon series filmed expressly for TV and, two years ago, he joined forces with Scott to concentrate on “Rocky and His Friends.” They are also at work on other TV cartoon shows, among them being one called “Super Chicken” starring Louis Nye and Don Knotts from the Steve Allen repertory group.
Among the cohorts in “Rocky and His Friends” are such nature’s noblemen as Peabody, a Genius Dog, who adopts an orphaned boy (“The judge,” explained Ward, “ruled that if a boy can have a dog, a dog can have a boy”) and Bullwinkle the Frog [sic], who reads poetry aloud.
I was curious about the plots that would unfold and the creators of the show were quick to relate several of them. “First shot out of the box,” said Scott, “Peabody the Genius Dog invents a time machine and this starts us off on a whole series of improbable histories. For instance, we have one about Gen. Custer. In our story, Gen. Custer is captured by a famous Indian chief, but thanks to Peabody’s culinary skill, Custer manages to escape, just in time for the battle of Little Big Horn...
“We have many more improbable histories, including the story of how Ponce de Leon finds the Fountain of Youth — but his men overdrink and this causes certain problems with the Indians. And there’s one about Napoleon suddenly finding himself helpless in battle, someone having stolen his suspenders. Napoleon therefore is unable to salute, to draw his sword or order his troops forward.
Ward put in, “And we’ll also have what we called ‘Fractured Fairy Tales,’ such as our version of ‘The Princess and the Pea.’ In this one the court jester, known to everyone as ‘Million Laughs Charlie,’ tries to put over a fake princess on the unsuspecting king. Fortunately, the jester’s scheme backfires and the true princess is found.”
“And,” Scott pointed out, “there’s Bullwinkle’s poetry. In ‘Wee Willíe Winkie,’ for instance, Bullwinkle ‘runs upstairs and down, in his night gown’ — until the police begin to wonder.”

Ward couldn’t sell Super Chicken to the networks in 1960 and he brought back the idea as a segment of George of the Jungle in 1967. The voices were re-cast. This is all covered in Keith Scott's book, "The Moose That Roared."

The Modesto Bee of Aug. 28, 1960, gave potential viewers a bit more about the series, including a couple of lines about the directors of some of the cartoons; both died in the 1960s. There’s also mention of Marvin Miller, who did a lot of narration for industrial films, for UPA, and appeared on The Millionaire. He didn’t work for Ward, as far as I know. Hans Conried was hired for Fractured Flickers (1963) and the animated Hoppity Hooper (1964).

Rocky and His Friends Are Virtually Unknown—So Far
By Pat Morrison
Rocky And His Friends is called a subliminal cartoon series by its producers Jay Ward and Bill Scott, because apparently nobody has ever heard of it though Rocky has been on the air since November.
The sponsors do not seem to care about publicizing it and apparently are happy about the children who do watch the bi weekly productions—Tuesdays and Thursdays at 5 PM on channel 7 and 5:30 PM on channels 3 and 47.
Rocky, a flying squirrel, is helped immeasureably by Bullwinkle, the Moose, Boris and Natasha, a couple of delightfully “sneaky type spies from Pottsylvania, Cloyd and Gibney, two moonmen currently doing a socko duo on the nightclub circuit and Mr. Peabody and his boy, Sherman—”every dog should have a boy.”
Each half hour segment contains two episodes of the adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle, usually bring pursued by Boris and Natasha in a manner that makes The Perils of Pauline look like a Sunday picnic. Each stanza is appropriately titled and subtitled—Below Zero Heroes or I Only Have Ice For You, The Snowman Cometh or An Icicle Built For Two and The Boundary Bounders or Some Like It Shot.
The first saga is followed by a Fractured Fairy Tale as related by Edward Everett Horton. The moose comes on for his sally into culture with Bullwinkle’s Corner, a stab at poetry and classic tales, appropriately animated. Mr. Peabody and Sherman, with the help of the way back machine, illustrate segments of Improbable History and the half hour closes with another cliff hanging chapter with Rocky and Bullwinkle.
Although the show is being televised on a national scale, it so far has not reached the heights of Huckleberry Hound or Quick Draw McGraw. But producers Ward and Scott feel as long as the sponsors are happy they are in business. But the sponsor did try something. Rocky And His Friends was put on at a later time, 7:30 PM. in Cincinnati, Ohio, and the squirrel walked off with a whopping 30 rating.
By simple deduction the producers feel with a time change and a little publicity, Rocky might jump into the limelight. However, no changes are in sight.
Their main problem is just to get the cartoons out and they go about this in a strange way. For instance, their animating plant, with 70 workers, is situated in Mexico City. The idea, of course, is to put out shows at a lower cost. The writers think up the stories in Hollywood and the animators do the drawing below the border.
With the success of Huckleberry Hound and other cartoons, Scott feels the TV cartoon industry can only grow. He only wonders where the new talent is going to come from.
Most of the staff members of Jay Ward Productions have put in time at UPA, Disney or one of the movie cartoon series. Scott is a former writer for Mister McGoo [sic], Gerald McBoing-Boing and Bugs Bunny. Ward created the first TV cartoon series, Crusader Rabbit, director Pete Burness handled many McGoo shows and director Bob Cannon won two Academy Awards plus those from Venice, Cannes, and Edinburgh.
Probably the most familiar thing about the Rocky shows is the voices. The nervous voice of Edward Everett Horton lends itself to the Fractured Fairy Tales. Hans Conreid, Marvin Miller, Don Knotts and Louis Nye can be heard.
Besides these, add the two of the most talented voice men in Hollywood, Daws Butler and Paul Frees And as the credit line at the end of each show will tell you, “these are only some of the people who make this show impossible.”

Rocky was clever and fun, but the show's attitude shows you how times have changed. The series made fun of the stupidity and incompetence of the U.S. government and military, but it was all good-natured. Today, satire on the same subjects is angry and denigrates into personal insults, more so than the acrimony of the Nixon years. I prefer the Ward/Scott way better.

The Low, Low Price of Two Million Dollars

Jay Ward made funny cartoons.

Jay Ward made other funny things, too.

If you’ve read Keith Scott’s essential book The Moose That Roared, you’ll know Ward had a promotional department that sent out ridiculous news releases, twisting current events to get attention.

It worked. Newspaper columnists with a sense of humour loved getting anything other than the same staid announcements. We have reprinted their bemused reportage in previous posts and we do so again.

This one is from the Pittsburgh Press of May 26, 1961. Ward, Scott and his release writer (Alan Burns?) made fun of the concept of a Book of the Month Club or Record of the Month Club.

'Film Series Of Month'
Bonus Selections Lampooned
By FRED REMINGTON
The economic slump has "saucered out" now as they say, and you may have $2,000,000 to spare that you didn't have back there a few months ago when things were tighter.
Well, you might want to look into the TV Film Series of the Month Club.
"Remember," states the Club's monthly bulletin, "as a member you agree to buy six Jay Ward TV series within the next 12 months at our list price. After buying six series, you are entitled to a bonus series of your choice WITHOUT CHARGE! Join now!”
Jay Ward and his partner, Bill Scott, produce the "Rocky and His Friends" cartoon series. Their trade paper advertising and periodic mailings are delightfully funny.
The TV Film Series Of The Month Club Bulletin is a sample of their humor. Like the book club bulletins, this one lists the monthly selection, plus the various available bonus selections, with capsule descriptions. For example: This month's selection—
"BEAT THE PRESS." Frank Sinatra and Anita Ekberg pound, maul, pummel, hit, scratch, claw, kick and bite four well known members of the press each week for 28-action packed minutes on a bare stage! In show No. 1 alone, Frank destroys over $6000 worth of press camera equipment! Guests: May Craig, Walter Lippman, Lawrence E. Spivak and Hedda Hopper.”
The bonus selections includes—"HUM ALONG WITH MITCH." Jay Ward offers a solution to those who want to participate but can't remember the words.
"YOU ASKED TO SEE IT." Persuasive Jay Ward has made it possible for the home viewers to see such off-beat footage as lovely screen star Audrey Hepburn eating a live chicken.”
"THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.” Thoughtlessly turned down by the Prudential Insurance Co., this fascinating re-examination of a marvelous era is now available to you. Host-narrator is Robert Welch of the John Birch Society.
"CHAMPIONSHIP MAHJONGG.” Exciting action series with world's great players competing for weekly jackpot of $100. Host Lenny Bruce provides wholesome fun to relieve between-match tension. Fun for the whole family!
"TOUCH FOOTBALL HIGHLIGHTS." From Washington D. C., Palm Beach, Fla., and Hyannis Port, Mass.
On Mothers Day weekend, Ward and Scott ran trade paper ads offering: Free—Make a long distance phone call to your mom anyplace in the USA. All you have to do is buy a Jay Ward TV series, 39 weeks. Just $2,000,000.
This novel promotional campaign is prompted by the fact that the Ward enterprises have 20 unsold cartoon series, including "Super Chicken" and "Watts Gnu?"
"We're not discouraged about our big backlog of unsold shows," Scott told the United Press International the other day. "When one sells, they'll all sell, and we'll be rich. Rich. Rich. Rich."

Watts Gnu was a puppet show that Ward couldn’t interest the networks in picking up. The concept of Super Chicken was revived a few years later as a segment of George of the Jungle. Some like it better than George.

However, Ward’s major stars, Rocky and Bullwinkle, took advantage of the rush by the networks in 1961 to have their own “Flintstones,” i.e. a successful night-time cartoon comedy. That’s even though, according to this story by Jim Scott in the Berkeley Gazette of Sept. 23, 1961, NBC didn’t want it.

TV Premiere—
There's a Lot Of Berkeley In 'Bullwinkle'
There's a lot of Berkeley in Bullwinkle, who could be hottest thing on television this fall.
From a supporting role in "Rocky and his Friends," Bullwinkle, a moose, goes in his own show—"The Bullwinkle Show," of course—at 7-7:30 p.m. Sundays on NBC's 60-city network starting Sept. 24.
The pixie behind Bullwinkle, who'll be done in color, is J. T. (Jay) Ward, a onetime Berkeley sports buff who still heads the J. T. Ward (realty) office on Domingo across the street from the Berkeley Tennis Club.
Actually, NBC doesn't care much for old Bullwinkle but big General Mills, Inc., likes him even better than Wheaties. After paying Jay an estimated $3,000,000 for Bullwinkle, it used its great weight to force NBC to show the moose at the prime time.
Already Bullwinkle's creator, Ward, has become a legend in Hollywood though he's been there only two years. A brilliant organizer with a light, Jay achieved success by hiring only top talent. This goes double for his co-producer, Bill Scott.
Besides his former associates, Rocky, a flying squirrel, spy Boris Badenov and his cohort, Natasha Fatale, Bullwinkle will have to deal this season with one Dudley Do-Right of the Mounties, a meat-head who smells of the Nelson Eddy influence. BULLWINKLE is far from being the only star in Jay's stable. He's now ready to go with several other shows, including the "Fractured Flipper" [sic] and "Hoppity Hooper."
Operating in three buildings on Sunset Ward is never too busy to talk to Berkeley friends, particularly if they're hep to Cal athletics.
On a recent visit with Jay, this writer found him and Scott relaxed over cool drinks. (“We can think up ideas better than this," said Jay). Around and about them worked 25 (temperamental) artists.
In addition, Jay maintains a unit in Mexico City, where more than 100 cartoonists ink out the bulk of his work. In his Sunset studios, artists come and go as they please. Some do the work in their homes.
Ward is one of the few Hollywood producers who realize the vital role of the writer. "The writer is more important than the animator," says Jay. "Many producers are so intrigued with the novelty of the moving drawing that they forget the prime factor—the story. Cartoons, like the comic strip, have a basic appeal. But an audience will tire if they present only action and no plot. Some cartoon makers have perfected animation to a life-like reality. But the story suffers. We try to use animation to tell a story."
WARD was first exposed to the entertainment field while attending the University of California here. As chairman of the Radio Committee, he wrote many of the scripts. After service in the Air Force during World War II, he enrolled at the Harvard Business School. He returned to Berkeley following graduation to operate the real estate business he had inherited from his father.
Jay had been in his office just one day when a runaway truck smashed through his building. Ward's leg was broken. While convalescing, he turned to writing.
It was then that Jay conceived the revolutionary idea of animated cartoons for television. At the time the seven-inch screen were offering only tired vaudeville acts.
Jay and Alex Anderson in 1948 produced "Crusader Rabbit," which ran for two years on ABC. But they lost the valuable property when the sales agency which had taken it over went bankrupt.
But the Crusader's financial romp was a gnawing challenge to young Ward to do it again. To do it right, he went to Hollywood, started hiring the best talent. Yet he made his pilot film for only $5,000. His voices included such well-known names as those of Edward Everett Horton and Charles Ruggles.
THE INTEREST evinced at once in Rocky prompted Jay to expand fast with the aid of investors from Berkeley.
But his enterprise almost came a cropper at the outset. Flying home from New York, his plane hit a rough pocket that really jolted the passengers. Ward was stricken.
Since it appeared that he was suffering a heart attack the plane made an emergency landing in Salt Lake City. Physician there couldn't determine Jay's trouble but they didn't think it was his heart. He had difficulty breathing, feared he couldn’t take his next breath. He suffered claustrophobia. But, even though working at a slower pace, he met with nothing but success in his venture into animation.
Today Jay has completely recovered. Recently he drove his own car to Berkeley, from where he left his office manager, Dave Carr, on a fishing trip to the High Sierra.
"If that boy will just stick with me—and watch his weight—he'll go far," said Bullwinkle with a wink that TV watchers have come to love.

After The Bullwinkle Show premiered, Ward and Scott spent time ridiculing NBC’s apathy toward their series, worked on getting Hoppity Hooper and Fractured Flickers on the air (the latter in syndication). Oh, and there were nutty promotional events to grab more media attention.

Here we are, 60-plus years later, still laughing along with them.

The World of Ward, 1967

Am I the only one who regrets there were not more cartoon series from Jay Ward Productions?

Perhaps it’s just as well, because they may have just kept repeating that they had done before. But what they had done before was fun, and smart kids picked up on the humour. The cartoons were never a straight narrative. Characters commented on the action. They commented on the dialogue. They commented on the TV network. They talked to the narrator or the viewing audience. They playfully punned. They were irreverent, not in-your-face just to be rude. Each cartoon was half the length of an old theatrical short, so the pace quickened, adding to the humour.

Jay Ward and Bill Scott’s last hurrah was George of the Jungle in the 1967-68 TV season. Some fans feel the Super Chicken segments were funnier than George. Super Chicken had a rather lengthy gestation period, as we read in this feature story from the Bell-McClure Syndicate, July 5, 1967.

Super Chicken Helped Jay Ward Conquer Censors
By Richard K. Shull
THE name has been changed out of professional courtesy to all network programing executives everywhere, but Hunt Strongbird, jr., finally made his debut on network television.
The tale behind Strongbird (no pun intended) is itself the makings of a major TV drama.
It started back in the early 1960s when James T. Aubrey, jr., was the reigning president of CBS television and Hunt Stromberg, jr., was his West Coast programing executive.
In reaching around for shows calculated for bigger and better ratings, the CBS executives had their attention captured by Jay Ward, the zany producer of such items as Bullwinkle Moose and Fractured Flickers, kiddie shows with an irreverent adult sense of humor.
Ward was commissioned to do an hour-long pilot film for CBS of something to be called Jay Ward's Nuthouse—a gathering of human and cartoon characters in blackouts and sketches reminiscent of the old Olsen and Johnson and Spike Jones routines.
Ward labored mightily and produced an hour of what he thought was great good humor. Then the CBS minions sank their hooks into it.
Out went a brief act in which a bespectacled pitch woman stepped on stage and declared “I’d like to show you the new Maidenform bra,” while she shucked her blouse.
Also out went all the scenes in which a gorilla walked through with the CBS eye attached to his derriere.
Also out went a sketch in which a poor commuter was trampled flat by the far-out habitues of a subway coffee house.
And still more. When the censors had finished snipping, less than half of Ward’s show remained.
Also out were any hopes for a weekly series, although CBS did get salvage money by broadcasting a tamed-down version of Ward’s pilot film on a hot August evening when only Ward’s immediate family was watching TV.
It was about this time when Ward got an idea for a new cartoon series—Super Chicken, with an addlepated rooster named Hunt Strongbird, jr. Merciful heavens, Ward denied, there was no connection between his disastrous relationship with CBS executives, such as Stromberg, and the new cartoon series.
But even the other networks shied away from Super Chicken a year ago. Possibly the executives saw a little of their own images mirrored in the gleam in Ward’s eyes.
Now, Super Chicken, with a new name, finally has been purchased and is scheduled to go on ABC’s Saturday morning line-up next fall, but not even the title is seen in the program logs.
Super Chicken has been submerged and concealed as a segment within a new cartoon series titled George of the Jungle, a take-off on Tarzan with a narcissistic boob in a leopard skin.
But how can anyone who knows the story, as you do, ever look at Super Chicken, without thinking of Hunt Strongbird, jr.?

Jay Ward had more to say to Mr. Shull, who set it aside for another column published in mid-October. Ward griped for the umpteenth time the network suits didn’t like his shows and avoided putting them on the air. (Fractured Flickers, for example, aired in syndication).

A Reaction to Funny (but Frustrated) Jay Ward
Tears of Mirth, Tears of Miffed
By RICHARD K. SHULL
HOLLYWOOD, Calif.—Take a visit to Jay Ward's little loonybin on Sunset Strip and you come away with tears on your cheeks. There are tears of mirth because Ward and his crew are funny men.
There are also tears of anguish because Ward and his wildmen never get a chance to show their stuff on prime network television time.
After nearly a decade of trying, Ward has concluded the networks are trying to tell him something. His problem is that he's unpredictable, he's genuinely funny, and he's never content to cash in on someone else's cliche.
For each and all of those reasons, he's a dangerous man so far as the networks are concerned.
OR HAVE you taken note that the nets go for the "Gilligan's Islands" of the industry, those nice, lathery little situation comedies in which every outburst of the laughing machine is as predictable as Old Faithful?
"The real trouble with TV is that everyone is trying to please someone else," Ward said, sitting on the back of an armchair with his feet in the seat where his seat should have been.
"We've stopped going to the networks. They're friendly and nice, but we never get an affirmative answer. I really can't blame the network men. I go in to see them with some far-out thing and they have so many nice, slick shows from Universal or MGM. They go the safe route.
"Any idea you take to a network has to go through 15 guys. Fourteen of them may like it, but if the 15th says no, they all want to hedge and take a second look. If it's something wild, they back off.
"THEY NEVER give upon Westerns. If one bombs, they try something else the next time until they get one that sticks. But, on original comedy, if one fails, that kills it for all of them," Ward said. He was laughing all the way of course, but then, Ward would see the humorous aspects of his own funeral.
Mind you, he's not completely washed out of the business. His animated cartoon, "George of the Jungle," is a Saturday morning feature on ABC, and his "Bullwinkle Moose" and "Rocky and his Friends" shows probably will play forever.
"I think maybe the kids are the most intelligent audience for TV anyhow. We go our happy way with our cartoons," he said.
His fortunes how are tied to the Quaker Oats Co. which sponsors some of his cartoon shows on the air and uses his characters on the cereal packages.
"They're gentlemen with a sense of humor," Ward said.
Ward was making his observations as we sat in his office, a second floor apartment in a Moorish apartment building down the street from an old house which is his studio, which is around the corner from the minuscule reception office on Sunset Boulevard, a prestige address.
(He's not allowed to have an office in the apartment building where it is located, but so far, the landlord hasn't been able to prove he does any business.)
IN ADDITION to his cartoons—which, if you've ever noticed, play at two levels with amusement for the kiddies overlaid on swinging adult humor—Ward is busy putting together a feature film from the great moments in Buster Keaton's silent pictures.
And he's also in the mod record business. That division of his enterprises is called the Snarf Co. which records under the label of Mother's Records. That division of his enterprises is called the Snarf Co. which records under the label of Mother's Records.
"My first record was by Teri Thornton," Ward said. "I put Laurel and Hardy on the cover of the jacket and a scene with Rudolph Valentino and Vilma Banky on the back.
"But the kids wouldn't buy it. They like the record but it's serious business to them. We changed to a plain wrapper and they began, buying."
Actually, you can't blame the networks entirely for their failure to recognize Ward. He brought some of it on himself. For example, there was the time when the N. B. C. brass wouldn't see him. So he hired some bums, put them in Salvation Army uniforms, gave them musical instruments, and camped them outside the N. B. C. headquarters in Rockefeller Center to serenade the network.
And then there was the time when a deal with C. B. S. fell through. At the time, the network's West Coast vice-president for programming was a fellow named Hunt Stromberg Jr. Coincidentally, a short time later Ward had put together a cartoon series titled "Super Chicken.” The hero was named Hunt Strongbird Jr.
But, for his over-all outlook on T.V., Ward says, "Actually, we aren't making shows anymore. We're trying to track down Nielsen's 1,100 rating families."
Network television may not yet be ready for Jay Ward, but they need him.

Ward had other programmes in development, but nobody wanted to put them on their network. And pretty soon, he gave up producing commercials for Quaker Oats because he thought the fun went out of them.

In some ways, Ward is enigmatic. Producers like Fred Quimby and Eddie Selzer are, correctly, not praised for the cartoons from their studio. Yet Ward is, even though he couldn’t draw and, creatively, merely sat in on voice sessions. He was alternately an introverted man and an extroverted promotor. Ward’s main contribution, in reading Keith Scott’s wonderful book on his studio, was creating an atmosphere of fun and silliness which fostered creativity and humour. That accomplishment deserves praise for him and his wonderful little cartoons.

Aquasmoke and Ogden T. Baloo's Mongoose

Jay Ward sent out the best news releases.

Ward had the best satiric and silly writers this side of Your Show of Shows—some ended up in live action—and the really hip TV columnists quoted from them liberally.

Rocky and Bullwinkle got caught up in the Great Prime Time Cartoon Invasion of 1961. That’s when The Flintstones became a hit in 1960 and, suddenly, all the networks wanted their own animated ratings grabbers. The aforementioned moose and squirrel were already on the air. They were simply picked up by another network and were shoved into what was considered prime-time then.

We’ve reprinted several columns praising Ward’s humour. Let’s give you two more. The first is from the Modesto Bee of July 16, 1961. Ward is pushing phoney TV shows, in addition to two of his efforts that never got bought—the puppet show Watts Gnu? and Simpson and Delaney. It took several years for Super Chicken to be appear, but as part of George of the Jungle.

The reference to “Sam the native” was an in-joke. No such series was planned. It was a jab at Bill Conrad and his somewhat limited ability to play character parts.

Jay Ward And Bil1 Scott Are Ready To Flood TV Market
By Pat Morrison
Producers Jay Ward and Bill Scott are a couple of zany characters who should be on the threshold of television success.
For many, they already have made it. The two produce Rocky And His Friends, a cartoon series seen at 5:30 PM Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays on ABC-TV. Ward and Scott think of it as their "subliminal show" since the sponsors and network have been content to leave it virtually untouched by any promotion.
But things should change come fall when the show moves over to NBC-TV in the time slot immediately preceding Walt Disney's new color offering on Sunday evening.
If the series clicks, they have about 20 other shows ready to go such as Super Chicken, Watts Gnu?, Simpson And Delaney and Fractured Flickers.
“We're not worried about our big backlog of unsold shows,” Scott said recently. "When one sells they'll all sell and we'll be rich, rich, rich!"
In an effort to unload some of this backlog, the partners have launched a campaign among advertising agencies, TV editors and trade papers.
On Mother’s Day weekend one ad ran: “Free — make a long distance phone call to your mom any place in the USA. All you have to do is buy a Jay Ward TV series, 39 weeks just $2 million.” Frequent mail promotions have offered the Jay Ward Series Of The Month Club. “With the purchase of every two series for $2 million, club members are entitled to a bonus series.” Selections could be made from such possibilities as Touch Football Highlights “originating from Palm Beach, Washington, DC, and Hyannis Port.” Others were Aquasmoke "combining the most popular features of westerns and underwater shows," Championship Mah Jong and The Unreachables "based on the stories of a group of law abiding Italians who fight corruption and evil among the Irish, German and French.”
Other mailings have proposed the Jay Ward Peace Corps for "work among the underprivileged advertising agencies," Jay Ward Summer Camp for tired TV columnists and editors and the Jay Ward Cerise Saving Stamps.
As bold as they might appear, the two basically are cowards. Their executive producer is someone named Ponsonby Britt, who gets screen credit for the Rocky shows.
Ponsonby is highly fictional but he has a prepared biography in case anyone asks. “Britt is a tall, spare fellow of 40 odd with a sparkling blue eye — his other eye, which is brown, is rather dull." Background material on the two cartoonists is a little harder to come by. “I was born in San Francisco in 1920 with a silver spoon in my mouth,” Ward admits.
Scott claims: “I was born in Philadelphia in 1920 of poor but poor parents. In 1924 I ran away from home with my mother and father and settled in Trenton, NJ.”
There will be some changes made when the cartoon series is moved from ABC to NBC. Rocky will be aced out by his pal Bullwinkle Moose. Next year the program will be called The Bullwinkle Show and will introduce a whole new set of characters, including Dudley DoRight of the mounted police and Sam the native.
The characters will sound familiar because people like Edward Everett Horton, Hans Conried, radio Gunsmoke’s Matt Dillon (Bill Conrad) and Paul Frees do many of the voices.
“We go for actors," said Scott, who is the voice of Dudley DoRight. "It’s like picking out the fish for your guppy tank. What we look for is a community fish to join our group."

Here’s what the Akron Beacon Journal’s entertainment page had to say on August 2, 1961. This one brings us phoney TV executives at phoney TV stations in phoney towns.

HOW TO PROMOTE TV
Nonsense, Fellows, Sheer Nonsense
By DICK SHIPPY
Beacon Journal Radio-TV Writer
A staggering amount of mail comes across a TV columnist's desk every week, much of it promotional material from networks, agencies, production companies and public relations firms.
Despite the volume, it's easy to wade through. Half of it goes into the circular file unopened.
ANOTHER 30 per cent can be disposed of by opening the letter and reading only the first paragraph.
That takes care of promotional blurbs which start out. "There are 7,425 beads in the flapper dress worn by Dorothy Provine in the Oct. 23 episode of "The Roaring Twenties..."
The only person who could possibly be interested in such trivia is the nut who counted the beads.
Feature stories comprise another 15 per cent, little human interest tales about the fellow who greases axles for "Wagon Train" or the chap who loads the blanks in Marshal Dillon's revolver.
These features may be digested (burp!) in their entirety, but they usually wind up in the wastebasket with the other 80 per cent.
OF THE remaining 5 per cent, 4 7/8 per cent may be usuable in some form.
What about that missing one-eighth of one per cent? Oh, that's the correspondence from Jay Ward Productions.
Jay Ward is the creator of "Rocky and His Friends" (an ABC-TV cartoon series). Jay Ward doesn't give a tinker's damn whether or not you read his promotional releases.
On the theory nobody is reading them anyway, Jay Ward throws all sorts of nonsense into his promotional releases and all sorts of columnists read them avidly.
LIKE his latest effort, plugging a forthcoming NBC-TV cartoon series, "The Bullwinkle Show" (Bullwinkle is a moose, in case you're one of those serious types). It's a personal biography of Bullwinkle.
The biography states Bullwinkle "is the finest example of the great North American Clod."
"After distinguished service in the Armed Forces as a destroyer radar mast and an officers' club hat-rack, Bullwinkle decided to study acting under the great student of Stanislavski, Francis the Talking Horse . . . After several off Broadway roles (in Laos and Yucca Flats). Bullwinkle hit the Great White Way in 'Irma La Moose' and 'Charley's Antlers.' (The Great White Way, incidentally, is the main street of Frostbite Falls, which is snowed in 11 months of the year.")
HOW HAS Jay Ward plugged "The Bullwinkle Show?"
"Williard Porter, station manager of KWQA, Flack, Tex., hit John Nance Garner with a cream pie as he was leaving a Rotary Club luncheon. . . .
"Fern Kurdle, TV editor of the Washington Shopping News, Washington, D. C., bit Sen. Everett Dirksen on the ankle during a "Capital Reports" broadcast. ...
"Ogden T. Baloo, publicist for KIVP, Como, Wash., staged a cobra-mongoose battle in the lobby of the RKO theater. Unfortunately, both unexpectedly turned on him and he died within 45 seconds. . . .
"Clyde Cooberly, program manager of KEDT-TV, Auburn, Cal., joined the John Birch Society completely naked. . . .
"Ted Urie, general manager of WROT-TV, Bisby, Conn., consummated a proxy marriage with Winnie Ruth Judd."
Jay Ward, you're sick. But you're our kind of sick.

Bullwinkle et al splashed their irreverance on NBC for three seasons, though the last one was on late Saturday mornings/early Saturday afternoons. Ward accused the network of actively disliking the show and refusing to promote it. Ward came up with other concepts; only George of the Jungle was picked up as a series. It’s perhaps one of the great tragedies of television of the 1960s that more of a place wasn’t found for Jay Ward and Bill Scott, and more of their facetious promotions.

Bending An Elbow With Bullwinkle

It’s a comforting sight to tourists and local residents alike, standing firm at 8218 Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood.

It’s the Bullwinkle statute (with Rocky the Flying Squirrel atop his left palm).

The spinning statue returned to its home last year after restoration work that began in 2013. It was created by Bill Oberlin, who had designed sets for Bob Clampett’s A Time For Beany puppet show, had worked at Leon Schlesinger’s cartoon studio around 1940 and was named assistant producer on The Bullwinkle Show in 1961. Of course, the statue and the huge block party for its unveiling were part of Jay Ward’s outrageous publicity for the show.

The story of the statue and party are recounted in Keith Scott’s book The Moose That Roared (which we once again urge you to own). One of the invitees was Allen Rich, who related his experience in his “Listening Post and TV Review” column in the Hollywood Valley Times.

We’re going to bait and switch here. This story isn’t about the statue or its party. It’s about a second party Ward threw a few months later to which he invited Mr. Rich. This was his column of December 18, 1961.

A Strange Tale Of Sunset Strip
The voice on the telephone was enticing. It said, “We would like you to bend your elbow. The Bullwinkle Show and its producer Mr. Jay Ward will be your host at Frascatis.”
After due consideration (three seconds) I said, why that is just fine. I will be glad to bend my elbow at Frascatis and I only hope they have my favorite brand. “No, no. You do not understand. The brand is only incidental to the main attraction,” said the voice.
"So what is the main attraction?” I asked.
"You. We want you to bend your elbow, put it in the cement in front of the large and imposing stature of Bullwinkle on Sunset Boulevard. Then we will write your name and the date in the wet cement and it will remain ever enshrined for posterity. This is an honor we are according to a few of the columnists, and it is a very great honor, indeed. Why, for the rest of your life people will point you out, even little children, as a man who has his elbow prints on the Sunset Strip ... you know, like the movie stars have their footprints at Grauman’s Chinese," said the Bullwinkle representative.
"Did you read my review on Bullwinkle? I asked timidly.
"Why, yes. Yes, indeed. But Bullwinkle is bigger than the both of us. He never holds a grudge.”
Thus assured, I found myself at Frascatis on the night in question. Mr. Jay Ward in person greeted me warmly. (All had apparently been forgiven.)
Curiously I asked why they wanted columnists’ elbow prints?
"Well, finger prints might be more appropriate, said Jay snidely, "but on the other hand, elbow-bending is a sort of badge of your profession."
For this noteworthy occasion, Mr. Ward thoughtfully hired the bistro’s cozy banquet room. Soon the party was swingin', complete with good food, favorite brands of this or that beverage, and a couple of lady photographers, one of whom was a beautiful doll named Miss Linda Palmer.
Mr. Ward, as host, was also his own best customer for the brands of this and that. After about two hours he sidled over and said, "You the guy that wrote that review?”
I parried this cleverly [sic]. I said, “What review?” and hid behind Miss Palmer’s skirts.
But by now it was time for the ceremony, so our jolly party at considerable peril to life and limb made its way en masse across Sunset Blvd. to the statue of Bullwinkle . . . which towers some 25 feet into outer space and cost $6,000 to erect.
In the forecourt we came upon a very energetic jaz [sic] band performing lustily although by now, what with one thing and another, it was approaching the witching hour of midnight.
More favorite brands were dispensed, the two photographers were taking pictures of everybody in sight including each other, the musicians continued to blare away, and I was somewhat surprised that nobody any longer seemed to care whether I put my elbow in the cement or not.
Pretty soon the fuzz arrived in their shiny new police car and wanted to know what was going on? They said the musicians were making too much noise. It was just like a party at the Garden of Allah (the former site of which is now occupied by Bullwinkle’s statue) during the halcyon days of kookie movie characters.
Miss Palmer, the beautiful femme photographer, asked the officers to smile pretty and took their pictures. They got back in their car, but like true guardians of the law stayed parked right there to keep the peace.
Finally, someone remembered why we had all gathered at the Bullwinkle statue.
By this time the wind was blowing up a storm and the mercury had lowered ominously. It was COLD, let me tell you.
But I thought of all the little children who would be deprived of the chance to point me out on the street in years to come . . . and bravely took off my coat and went through with it.
Unfortunately, the two photographers had at this point taken so many pictures—of the musicians, I think—that they had no film left for me, a man whose elbow marks will forever be enshrined and share billing with Bullwinkle on the fabulous Sunset Strip.
Shivering somewhat more than slightly, new horrors awaited me.
"Wheresa fella wrote ‘at review?” asked Mr. Ward.
It was then that I jumped into my wife’s fashionable DeSoto convertible—and sped to safety as Bullwinkle leered happily after me from his lofty perch.

Incidentally, Mr. Rich’s conclusion about the NBC debut of Bullwinkle was “the buildup was much funnier than the show” which he called too swift and jerky. I guess we’ll never know what Ward thought of the review.

Party With Jay Ward

Who’s the greatest cartoon producer?

When it comes to promoting cartoons, the answer has to be Jay Ward.

Ward’s cartoons were irreverent and silly. So were his promotions. Ward may have loved the publicity stunts as much as his cartoons.

Here are some examples in a syndicated “Under Twenty” column that appeared in papers starting August 9, 1963. The column’s sub-head “For Teenagers Only” is bunk. Jay Ward cartoons are for everyone with a sense of fun, humour and iconoclasm.

Jay Ward Is Crazy Party Giver
By John Larson
A constant question comes to mind when one knows Jay Ward: “Is there a private, out-of-show-business, non-wacky individual behind all the nutty doings of the bouncing and jovial character?”
Jay Ward, creator and producer of “Bullwinkle,” is the only man who really knows that answer. No matter how many times one sees him, the only side shown is one even more wacky than the characters in “Bullwinkle.”
He won the reputation of being the nuttiest party giver and promoter since P. T. Barnum built his circus. For example: Not long ago in New York Jay gave a “Coming Home Party” on the Campus of Columbia university.
Asked why he said, “Because I’m leaving for California in the morning.” Had he gone to Columbia? “No, the only college I attended was Moose U. in Moosylvania.”
A couple of years ago a section of Hollywood's Sunset Boulevard was roped off for a block party celebrating the unveiling of a statue of Bullwinkle. Directly across the street is a huge statue of a girl rotating for advertising purposes. Jay had the Bullwinkle so constructed that the statue rotates in perfect unison with the scantilly clad “Sahara Girl.”
Meanwhile back at New York, as they say in westerns, Jay threw a picnic at the Plaza, one of New- York’s most plush hotels. So many people turned up that they ran out of picnic baskets. The hotel wasn’t too happy with the picnic idea, but their management screamed a shrill “NO” when Jay suggested they import ants from the country to attend the picnic. “After all,” he said later, “What’s a picnic without ants?”
Last March Jay took over a small coffee house and held a Gala New Year’s Eve Party. Six-foot long hero sandwiches and spaghetti were served and New Year’s Eve was celebrated at four different times between 11 o’clock and 3:30 in the morning.
“I couldn’t spend New Year’s with my New York friends last year, so I decided to do it in March. Even the weather cooperated. It snowed that day!” “On the drawing boards,” Jay told us, “is a Jailhouse Jamboree. New York is tearing down one of its jails and we have arranged to have dancing in the cells and refreshments served from the magistrates desk in the courtroom.”
In September . . . Jay’s new syndiated series “FRACTURED FLICKERS” (syndicated through Desilu) will be simultaneously premiered on Broadway and in Hollywood, in a true silent-movie tradition, Rolls Royce, of ancient vintage containing celebrities decked-out in 1920’s regalia, will pull up to the theatre entrance, and old-fashioned movie cameramen and directors will shoot newsreels on the sidewalk, amidst the blare of 1920 jazz bands and on-location crystal set radio interviews. A silent-screen star party will follow on stage.
Also planned is another “first” in motion picture history—a “Coney Island Film Festival.” A 10-car train will be rented from the subway to carry people back and forth between New York and the festival. On view, of course, will be Jay’s “Fractured Flickers. These consist of old, silent movies re-edited with the most insane words and sound effects dubbed in. “They’re for young adults. Young adults are people all the way up to 85 who have forgotten to laugh.”
What is the real Jay Ward like? We still don’t know. “The world,” he says, “is a pretty serious place. I feel that people are entitled to a laugh to break the monotony. The parties? I think everybody gets a kick out of an off beat party, that’s why I like to give them.”
The truth of the matter is that nobody, but nobody has a better time at one of Jay Ward’s parties than Jay Ward!

Squirrel Animator Sal

There were problems aplenty at Val-Mar Productions, so many that even an heroic flying squirrel couldn’t solve them.

It was the studio set up in Mexico to handle a lot of the artwork for Rocky and His Friends in 1959. The cartoon series was going to be sponsored by General Mills, and someone in its ad agency told the cereal maker it could save half-a-million dollars a year by having it animated outside the U.S. (where unionised labour would have to be employed). The contract with Jay Ward Productions set the budget for each half-hour at a ridiculous $8,520. By contrast, Hanna-Barbera was getting $21,000 for a half-hour of The Quick Draw McGraw Show.

Keith Scott’s book The Moose That Roared outlined some of the problems, including the fact the studio didn’t have a phone. Film was held up at the border. Rookie artists were hired, and they only spoke Spanish. Ward responded by getting some Americans to work out of Mexico—Bill Hurtz, Dun Roman, Gerard Baldwin (briefly) and the man who is the subject of our story. It appeared on newswires on July 22, 1961.

'Rocky' Animator Works in Mexico
Sal Faillace is an American artist with a Mexican ink bottle.
South of the border, where they munch tortillas, ole to bulls and matadors, and palaver in Spanish, this ex-New York area resident cha chas with brush and palette to animate the characters for ABC-TV's "Rocky and his Friends."
Sal Faillace does all this animated nonsense on a drawing board in Mexico City. He is production supervisor for Gamma productions, an outfit that employs 150 people and does both the story lines and animation for "Rocky and his Friends." The studio will also do the animation for "Rocky" when it hits the South American market — in Spanish.
"When I first came to Mexico nine months ago," said Sal, "my biggest problem was the language barrier. There were 12 animators in the department, and only myself and the Mexican interpreter could speak English. So I used hand signals and expressed what I wanted to say in my drawings. It worked out fine. Besides, an animator is like an actor; instead of acting on stage he acts on paper."
In New York recently to attend his brother's wedding, Sal, 31, recalled his childhood doodling days in Larchmont, N.Y.
"I always liked to draw cartoons," admitted Sal. "I bought comic books and copied all the Disney characters. I learned by experience."
Sal, who never had any formal cartoon schooling, ventured into whut he calls the "play for pay" ranks when he graduated from high school a dozen years ago. He bundled up his art work, kissed mom goodbye, and bought a one-way ticket to New York and the Famous Studios.
"I guess I was lucky," said Sal. "The director of Famous liked my stuff and put me on the payroll as one of the animators for Popeye."
But Sal finally tired of Wimpy, Olive Oil and other Popeye personalities and expanded into animated commercials for television. His journey across the Rio Grande was prompted by information that Gamma was looking for an animator.
Unmarried, he plays the role of an American tourist in metropolitan Mexico City. "Sometimes I get homesick," said Sal. "But never lonely. Besides, I'm too busy learning Spanish."

After Bullwinkle wrapped up, Sal worked on the Underdog Show. He also animated on Schoolhouse Rock in New York in the mid-70s.

What happened to Sal after that is difficult to say. There was a Salvatore Fallace who died in Laramie, Wyoming last July who would be our Faillace’s age, but there’s no confirmation it’s him. No biography is in his obituary (this Sal’s brother was a professional magician in New Jersey). He’s one of the countless people who animated in the Golden Age and even managed to get credit on the small screen. Their talents deserve recognition.

Beavers and a Pink Sweatshirt

How many cartoon producers had a sense of humour?

By all accounts, Fred Quimby at MGM and Ed Selzer at Warner Bros. did not. Paul Terry liked borrowing gags so maybe he had everyone else’s sense of humour.

Then there was Jay Ward.

His sense of humour was like his cartoons—irreverent. Take away his PR department that cooked up ridiculous and facetious promotions and Ward was still a playful, amusing man. He was an enigma, too. He was private, on one hand, but outrageous whenever he decided to brave going out in public.

The success of The Flintstones on ABC in prime time had an unexpected effect—other networks wanted their own cartoon hits, and NBC saw one in Rocky and His Friends. They had some elements changed, revised the name to The Bullwinkle Show and then were aghast at what Ward and co-producer Bill Scott wrought. The two of them continually accused the network of either ignoring the show or wilfully trying to kill it.

Here are a couple of feature columns that give you an idea of Ward’s warped sense of humour, not that any of what you’ll read will surprise Bullwinkle fans. The first story came from the Pittsburgh Press of November 9, 1962 and the latter appeared in papers starting April 1st. It was syndicated by the Newspaper Enterprise Association. Roasting the NBC peacock is a truly inspired idea; the network’s executives showed their traditional horror toward anyone who dared to be sacrilegious toward the hallowed National Broadcasting Company. Even Quimby and Selzer weren’t that much of a corporate toady.

Bullwinkle Creator Is An Unusual Harvard Graduate
His Pink Sweat Shirt Is Definitely Non-Ivy
By FRED REMINGTON
Jay Ward is perhaps the only alumnus of the Harvard Graduate School of Business Administration who lunches in metropolitan hotels wearing a pink sweatshirt. With the gracious manners of a Harvard man, however, he removes his hat before entering the dining room. This is fortunate, since his hat is a lavishly plumed affair, looking like something the Goodwill might have picked up at Napoleon's house on Clean-up Day.

He was in Pittsburgh this week on a promotional tour for the "Bullwinkle" cartoon show of which he is producer.
“Thirty cities, 30 states, 30 days, 30 parties,” he said of his trip. “I just met your mayor. We had a very pleasant chat.”
“What did he say to you?”
“Get out! But he said it in a friendly tone. I could see right off he was my kind of politician. I have big plans for this man. He gave me a key to the city; I gave him a lock.”
Jay has a laugh that can be heard all over the Golden Triangle which, combined with his pink sweatshirt and plumed hat, made him a rather noticeable figure in the Hilton Hotel.
A waitress came over and asked: “Are you Mr. Jay Ward of Hollywood? I have a phone call for you.”
“Now how in the world did she know it was me?” marveled Jay.
He got into cartooning more or less by accident, he relates. He had intended to put his Harvard business education to use in the real estate field and opened an office in Los Angeles.
“I had barely got to the office and sat down at the desk when my first prospect entered,” he said. "The driver of an out-of-control truck. The office was smashed and I was in a plaster cast for six months.” During this period of incapacitation, when, he explained, “I didn't dare try to sell any real estate because I couldn't run,” he took to cartooning. The result is the fanciful characters of Bullwinkle, Rocky the Squirrel, Dudley Do-Right and the others who brighten Sunday afternoons (5:30 p. m.) on the NBC network.

Bullwinkle Has Rocky Going On TV
By JOAN CROSBY
NEW YORK — Yes, television viewers, there really is a Jay Ward.
Who is Jay Ward? Well, he’s a man who never stops smiling, who yells “beaver” whenever he sees a man with a beard, who laughs through his stories of a feud with NBC, who will go to enormous lengths for a practical joke, who sends out the funniest mail carried by any postmen, and, incidentally, heads Jay Ward Productions, the firm which produces the Bullwinkle Show.
Jay came to New York recently in the company of his co-producer Bill Scott (who also supplies Bullwinkle’s voice) for the sole purpose of throwing a gigantic picnic at the staid old Plaza Hotel. )Invitations to the press were delivered in person by a man dressed as a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, accompanied by an eight-piece band wearing Bullwinkle hats.)
Ants and a pickpocket were hired for the picnic, atmosphere, you know, although Scott did express a small amount of concern regarding the pickpocket: “We’re not sure he is honest.”
A good deal of New York’s population was there—but no one from NBC was invited.

The network, it seems, is persona non Minow to the Ward production company. There is the matter of the Bullwinkle puppet no longer being allowed to appear on his own show (the network was offended when he roasted the NBC peacock for Thanksgiving) and also the matter of cannibalism.
One episode, concerning Bullwinkle and his friend, Rocky, a squirrel, contained a sequence described by Scott as “so usual as to be time-honored in cartoons.” Our heroes parachuted out of a plane into deep jungle territory. Waiting below was a group of cannibals, a large pot containing boiling water, and a chef reading a book called “Fifty Ways To Cook a Squirrel.”
“That was as far as we got with the sequence,” says Ward. “The continuity acceptance telephone in our office (it has an angry ring and fire comes up when you answer) rang resolutely. A voice on the other end said, ‘We have been looking over the script and NBC will countenance no cannibalism in any program on the network.’
“We brooded for a while, then we sent back a very terse, concise letter in which we asked, ‘As a moral point, is it strictly cannibalism to eat a squirrel?’ We're still waiting for an answer.”

The Accidental Cartoon Producer

Bullwinkle the moose may the only cartoon character who took a back seat to the publicity for his own show. When NBC picked up The Bullwinkle Show in 1961, Jay Ward, Bill Scott and PR maven Howard Brandy sent out a seemingly endless stream of off-beat news releases and other plugs for the show, not to mention organising events that were way out of the realm of anything anyone else was doing to grab attention.

Writers succumbed to the temptation of writing about the PR campaign instead of the actual cartoons, though Ward and Scott managed to get their personal philosophies of animated comedy in the stories at times, too.

Here’s a piece from Bob Foster’s “TV Screenings” column in the San Mateo Times of November 29, 1961. The quotes about tiring an audience can be found in other newspaper stories around this time. This is one of two references I recall seeing about the “Playville Club.” Ward and Scott (and their writers) satirised key clubs of the early ‘60s, and sent out fake brochures like the Playboy Club used to make.

Jay Ward, the Delightful ‘Nut’
Jay Ward is a nut. At least that is what one must presume from his press releases, his cartoon antics and from talking to the guy. One of the real humorists of our time, Jay does the unexpected, not only now and then, but every week right on schedule.
A former real estate salesman from Oakland, and one of television's first animators, he is currently giving birth each week to some of the most subtle comedy on television in his "Bullwinkle Show" (KRON-TV, 7 p.m. Sunday).
We discussed Jay's very funny press releases previously, but they still come to our desk and have become must reading for the entire staff.
The latest was the proud announcement that Jay Ward was opening "Playville Clubs" in 86 American cities and enclosed were two skeleton keys.
Previously he sent along some of the funniest parodies on well known songs, in a book entitled "Sing Along With Bullwinkle."
The Brandy agency, I even wonder about that name, who handles Jay Ward's account can be credited with much of the humor, but knowing Jay, he must contribute quite a bit to the humor.
JAY BECAME AN animated film producer strictly by accident. He really intended to be a real estate salesman. On July 10, 1947, sitting quietly in his Oakland office, he suffered a fractured leg when a runaway truck smashed through his front window.
"I was six months in a plaster cast and had lots of time to think things over like hospital equipment and plastering. About this time I met an old air force buddy and we got together with pencil and paper to develop an animated cartoon, 'Crusader Rabbit,' made entirely in Oakland... in a garage."
THIS VENTURE obviously was away ahead of its time ... so far ahead, in fact, that San Francisco still didn't enjoy television. "Crusader Rabbit" ran for two years locally, and is still being seen around the country in syndication.
"About this time," Jay says, "we got the feeling that television wasn't ready for us yet, so I went back to the real estate office in Oakland. I still have that office, just in case of, but it's now in the Claremont hotel, Berkeley."
Jay will cheerfully admit he can't draw, but he feels that writing is the thing in cartooning. Far too often mechanics are confused with the "results." Many cartoon producers become so intrigued with the novelty of a moving drawing that they forget the prime factor, story.
"Cartoons have a basic appeal," Ward says, "but an audience will tire if presented only action without thought. Some cartoon makers go as far as to perfect animating a life-like reality. This is fine, but the story suffers in consequence. We try to use animation to tell the story, not the story to sell animation."
ACTUALLY THE "BULLWINKLE" show is either liked or disliked with a passion. The humor on the show is subtle, and aimed at lovers of subtle humor, yet the series does have an appeal for youngsters as well as grownups. Those who do not like "Bullwinkle" refuse to admit that it has any humor. Those who really like "The Moose," however, are the color set owners. The series has some of the best darn color to be found on the air.

Satire the Ward Way

The Jay Ward studios had some ideas that never got off the ground and others which took some time before they finally appeared on TV screens.

One of the latter was Hoppity Hooper, which finally found a place on ABC’s Saturday schedule in 1964-65, airing at 12:30 p.m. Keith Scott’s indispensable book, “The Moose That Roared,” reveals it germinated in the idea for a Fractured Fairy Tale in 1960, but Bill Scott envisioned the character as the lead of a series (which would also include something called Clobbered Classics). Ward’s staff was asked to pony up money so a pilot could be shot.

I love the humour of Ward’s writers but Hoppity was blah and not all that sharp, certainly not as much as The Bullwinkle Show. The pace seemed slower, too. Hoppity lasted three seasons on Saturdays but it seems to me the show ended up on Sundays for a time.

Ward refers to Hoppity in this 1964 column by the Newspaper Enterprise Association around May 28th. There’s a reference as well to The Nut House, a pastiche of comedy that was being bashed about by Ward’s staff as early as July 1963 and aired as an hour-long special on CBS on September 1, 1964. Nothing like it had been tried on television before and it’s compared these days to Laugh In, which appeared three years later. Critics found the show uneven and the network took a pass on turning it into a series. Ward always had some clever concepts and it’s too bad some of them never made it.

Satire? Yes. Malicious? No
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
HOLLYWOOD, Calif. (NEA) — Can satire be funny without a point of view?
The answer from Jay Ward is a resounding "Yes."
A professional funny man in the field of animated television cartoons, Ward is making it pay big money. He has the popularity rating charts of a delighted audience to prove he is right.
Ward is the creator - producer of such cartoon hits as Bullwinkle, Rocky and His Friends and, an old film with narration, Fractured Flickers. He crashed home screens early, in 1947 [sic], with Crusader Rabbit. Next season he is introducing a new series, Hoppity, starring a frog.
But about satire being funny he adds:
"You can't be malicious. That's the secret of our whole operation."
Via Bullwinkle, his outlandish moose of a star, Ward has kidded the Northwest Mounted Police (Dudley Do Right), Chicago politics, the Los Angeles City Council, the Peace Corps, assorted Washington figures, film stars, TV shows and personalities and even television commercials.
Ward's "commercial" kidded a well-known drive-it-yourself auto rental company. In Ward's version, the driver had to be yanked skyward out of the car, which then crashed into a wall.

He is happy to say that no one has complained seriously and the laughs have paid off. Since he is not malicious and attempts no points of view, even sensitive network censors welcome the Ward brand of looking at the world satirically.
The old Hollywood comedy film he features in Fractured Flickers is Ward's guide, he says, in seeking audience laughter.
He says: "Mack Sennett, Buster Keaton and Hal Roach had a sense of comedy we would like to equal. Their film was just funny, period."
A jolly, sport-shirted, 38-year-old, Ward came home to Berkeley, Calif., after World War II to launch a real estate business, which he still owns. With the coming of TV he and an artist friend created Crusader Rabbit which they sold to NBC as the first cartoon series made especially for home screens. Now Ward hopes to equal his past success with a live one-hour variety show featuring young talent and titled, The Nut House.
"We hope to do a lot of wild, crazy things," he says, adding. "It will be nice for a change to work with people who can talk back."
For his new Hoppity series he chuckles: "We will be featuring the only frog in existence who isn't really a prince." Hans Conreid [sic] will provide the voice of another frog [he was actually a fox], a conman always involved in wild schemes. It's another chance for non-malicious satire with — as Ward puts it — "no point of view. Just funny, period."