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.

Frank and Freberg

What? Stan Freberg and Frank Nelson together?!

Among many things, Freberg was known for his extremely creative radio and TV commercials. Here are four. Nelson assists in the first pair.

A three-page article in the 2 December 1964 edition of Sponsor magazine confirms Billy May’s Orchestra is backing them, with help from Jud Conlon’s Singers. I think Bill Baldwin is the announcer in the third spot. I would love to know who the singer is in the second ad.

Cue in past 18 seconds of LP crackle.

The Sounds of Stan

If you had to pick an occupation for Stan Freberg during the 1950s, it’d impossible. He started the decade working on a puppet show and ended it operating his own ad agency. In between , he starred on two radio shows, signed a recording contract with Capitol and ran into executives deathly afraid he’d cut into corporate profits by offending someone.

The British music newspaper Disc profiled Freberg in its issue of January 24, 1959.

He ‘honours’ the stars with his satire
Pop music could, if we were to let it, become a very serious business indeed. We get a daily stream of rock, cha-cha, and every type of rhythm, plus a host of good and not so good ballads; the platters spin, the cash registers tinkle, and we are sometimes apt to lose our sense of perspective and, most of all, our sense of humour.
Of all the artistes who have attempted to put humour on record, none has done it so consistently nor so successfully as Stan Freberg. I say attempted for nothing is more difficult to do that put comedy on wax. To stand up to several playings the humour has to be exceptional.
But Freberg has mastered his medium and, knowing that actual gags will not stand the test, he has turned to satire.
That satire is usually directed at well-known songs and, such is Freberg’s brilliant mind, he is able to find comedy where one would never have believed it possible.
Some of his hits have followed soon after the initial success of the song, and while some disc fans object to the Freberg treatments, the artistes who find themselves satire are usually delighted and flattered.
If the star has become famous enough to be honoured with a Freberg satire, then he can really claim to have achieved public prominence.
New ‘Line’
I remember the delight of Lonnie Donegan when, just starting to make a big name for himself, Stan Freberg decided to record a delightful version of “Rock Island Line.” There was hardly any doubt at all who Freberg was satirising. Additionally, it gave the “Line” a new lease on life, and made people aware of the Donegan version if, by chance, they didn’t know it.
I know that I for one have become interested in an original disc through a Freberg waxing. When I first heard Freberg’s “Sh-Boom” I hadn’t heard the original disc. Through it I soon made it my business to hear The Crewcuts’ record, and other versions. Freberg, apart from delighting me, had served an additional purpose.

Stan, of course, does not make every disc a take-off of a well-known recording. Many of his records are special productions, the figment of his own very imaginative mind.
His “John and Marsha” is a case in point. Freberg took a song and, by using only the two names throughout the whole disc, made it into a fantastic seller, and a most unusual recording.
It seems hard to imagine that such a record could cause any sort of a storm, yet many people took exception to it, including the B.B.C., because of the many inflections of voice which Stan Freberg used on those two innocent-sounding names.
Much of Freberg’s success, apart from his tremendous sense of humour, can be attributed to his talent for mimicry. This particular facet is the result of long experience in the entertainment field, and a natural flair for observation.
Such attributes have taken Stan Freberg successfully through many spheres, including that of satirist, writer, actor, lyricist, composer and, more recently, commercial advertiser.
A stooge!
This six-foot, sandy-haired entertainer was brought up in Pasadena. Says Freberg, “I was brought up in Pasadena, suave, aloof, and awesomely elegant. The town, not me! Even now the place cannot get used to the idea.”
For a man full of surprises, it came as no surprise to me that Stan’s father was far removed from the world of entertainment. In fact, he is a retired Baptist minister.
However, a conjurer uncle seems to have intrigued Freberg at an early age. When only 11, Stan was helping his uncle load up his coat with the many objects which conjurers seem to be able to stow there.
This done, Stan would hurry round into the audience and offer himself as a stooge when required!
Like so many in American show business, Uncle Conray suffered badly in his chosen profession and had to take a humble job on the staff at one of the major broadcasting stations.
Young Stan soon followed his uncle. “Not through any particular loyalty,” said Stan, “but because I wanted all the free passes to radio shows that my uncle could get hold of.”
Stan Freberg devoured radio entertainment. He returned for show after show, every aspect of broadcasting intriguing him and exciting his passion for mimicry.
Another thing that Stan enjoyed about uncle’s new position was the freedom it afforded him to rummage through the waste paper baskets! Not for money, but for any discarded radio scripts.
Every find in this direction was taken home, studied and acted out in solitude in the family garage at home. It was through these performances that Stan found he could imitate any voice demanded of him.
Still at school, this talent brought him distinction and so, when he fixed a job for Stan as a petrol station attendant, the obedient son took it.
However, his career in petroleum was to last only three days. The boss caught him filling a petrol tank with a smoking pipe in his mouth and fired him.
Drawing himself up to his full height, and with all the dignity he could muster, Stan said, “That’s all right with me, buster. I happen to be in show business.” Nothing was in sight in this direction, but, so certain was Freberg that he had a future in this sphere, he soon became an entertainer.
‘Coffee Time’
With only the press cuttings of his school triumphs, Stan Freberg made the rounds of the agents. Says he, “I saw many receptionists, but very few bosses.” However, Cliffie Stone saw him and offered him a job on a morning show, “Coffee Time at Harrmony Homestead.” The salary? His fare from Pasadena to Hollywood and home again! To live he had to drive a laundry truck around town in his off-duty time.
The “Coffee Time” show was an early morning interview one, and few people ever arrived to make up the audience. Day after day, Stan would remedy this situation by being all the people who hadn’t turned up!
Cliffie Stone would interview Freberg who, on the spot, would become a mid-western tourist, a housewife, a businessman, or even a child on holiday from school! Behind the interviews an effects disc would put in the necessary atmosphere noises.
Through Stone, Freberg undertook his first solo show on radio, and a nervous 18-year-old was out on his own before he knew where he was.
During the same year, 1944, Stan Freberg went to Warner Brothers studio where his ability to supply voices put him in demand for cartoon films. Not only did Warners use his services this way, but he also supplied a tremendous amount of different voices for Paramount, Columbia and Disney.
Many shows
His career well under way, the army claimed him in 1945. However, during hiw two years’ service, he was never moved from California. During this time, it was not surprising that he wrote and staged many shows for the boys of Fort McArthur. Additionally he made many contributions to a couple of service newspapers.
His return to show business was rapid, and one of his first shows was as a disc jockey. Stan wrote the show, acted in it, and presented the records.
A further job was in a network radio show for children called “Tell It Again.” Stan got the job by assuring the producer that he could make monkey sounds! He spent all afternoon at the zo to make sure that he could do it.
Later he was responsible for Black Beauty’s whinny, the miaowing of Ulysses’ cat and a host of other strange noises.
Anxious to widen his experience still further, Stan answered an advertisement in a theatrical paper, “Wanted, comedian to travel with small band.” At the audition Stan did all that he knew. Tap dancing, impressions, and his improvisations. Said bandleader Red Fox, “That’ll do all right. Now what instrument can you play? Out comedian has to help out with the band.”
Stan couldn’t play any instrument, but this didn’t prevent him from asking “What instrument do you need?” Having been told that a guitarist was wanted, Stan replied “You’re in luck, that happens to be the instrument I play best.”
With that he went straight out, bought a guitar and an instruction book, and learned to play sufficiently to get by in the band. “Fortunately,” says Freberg, “the band always played loud, so they hardly knew whether I was playing or not.”
One of the biggest breaks in Freberg’s career came in 1949. He was signed for a long series called “Time For Beany” and, for five days a week, he entertained children with comedian Daws Butler until he resigned five years later in 1954.
Meanwhile, Stan had made his first disc, “John and Marsha,” and through this had acquired an even wider popularity.
From then on, alongside his personal appearances, a succession of Freberg discs hit the market.
They are now too numerous to mention in one feature, but perhaps I can remind you of a few of them. He scored in a big way with two saucy satires, “St. George and the Dragonet” and “Little Blue Riding Hood.”
Great LP
“C’Est Si Bon” was another gem, somehow reminiscent of the Eartha Kitt recording. “The Yellow Rose Of Texas” was another Freberg classic that rocked us on both sides of the Atlantic, as did his Les Paul and Mary Ford take-off in “The World Is Waiting For The Sunrise.” “Heart Break Hotel” was another sparkling satire, this time on—guess who?
So they’ve come at us in a steady stream. Ever welcome, and always extremely clever.
More recently, Capitol have issued two wonderful LPs called “Stan Freberg—The Best of his Shows,” (Vols. 1 and 2). This, like all his previous releases, is a “must.” My colleague Ken Graham extols them on another page.
May many more Stan Freberg records spin their way on both sides of the ocean. For, as I’ve said earlier, we can take our daily entertainment far too seriously. Doug Geddes

Freberg Moves On

The year was 1957 and there were worlds left to conquer for young Stan Freberg. He had toiled anonymously in animated cartoons, received a bit of notoriety for his work on the puppet show A Time For Beany but then vaulted into fame in the novelty record business. The canny Freberg managed to take his satiric records to the next step—in summer 1957 he was handed a radio variety show where he poked fun at whatever the censors would permit (and they didn’t permit him to do all he wanted). Finally, he opened an advertising company that basically poked fun at advertising.

Let’s pass along a couple of newspaper columns. First, let’s see what the Herald Tribune syndicate’s John Crosby thought about Freberg’s radio show (actually Freberg’s second; he had a sitcom for CBS in 1954). Crosby wasn’t a fan of the banality of radio or TV; he was a fan of both Fred Allen and Henry Morgan, who liked to take shots at both media. Crosby hits on one thing I’ve found about the Freberg shows—some routines carry on a little too long. But they have moments of real brilliance, too. He also reviews Morgan’s latest radio effort as well. By 1957, Morgan had been sadly emasculated. He should have been doing a game show parody, not a game show. This appeared in papers on July 19, 1957.

Out Of The Air
By JOHN CROSBY
Freberg—The Man Of Many Voices
Stan Freberg, the man of many voices who can reduce me to helpless laughter with his better satiric flights, now has his own radio show on CBS (7:30 p. m. EDT, Sunday). The opening show last Sunday was, I would say, a yes-and-no affair which had moments of great charm and bright wit but contained some empty spots, too.
Freberg is not only a satirist but a man with a great gift for fantasy which is sometimes delightful and sometimes gets him into trouble. The show’s opening, for instance, found the live Stan Freberg arguing with the various personalities created by the recorded Stan Freberg. “It’s frightening! It’s frightening!” exclaimed Freberg. It was also a wonderful demonstration of the man s versatility and imaginative range.
THIS WAS followed by a bit in which Freberg played the part of a French sheepherder who had taught his sheep to play a tune on the bells around their necks. This was charming. It was a mixture of both fantasy and humor in pure sound — something that wouldn’t come off on a television screen at all — and an excellent example of what Freberg does best. He is essentially a sound man and he knows how to call into play the imagination of his listeners. He has done some of his things on television and always, to me, there’s a letdown. I’d rather do my own imagining.
The bulk of the show was devoted to something called a Freberg fable, entitled “Incident at Los Varoses,” and this was drawn out far too thinly. It detailed a ferocious rivalry between two gambling establishments known as El Sodom and Rancho Gomorrah, Los Varoses being a thinly disguised Las Vegas.

THE TROUBLE with trying to satirize that fabled sin-spot is that the excesses of Las Vegas in the entertainment field are so bad that it is almost impossible to top them. As a result, the thing got pretty strained and seemed interminable.
Just the same, it was an interesting and unusual half-hour and well worth listening to. This Sunday Freberg promises an interview with the Abominable Showman and the inside story on the midnight ride of Paul Revere, both topics you are not likely to hear just anywhere. You might just blow the dust off that radio in the corner this weekend and sample purely aural humor for a change.
JUST AHEAD of Freberg, CBS Radio has started a new panel show called “Sez Who,” presided over — with great difficulty — by Henry Morgan. The panelists are Gypsy Rose Lee, John Henry Faulk and Joey Adams, and the idea of the game is to guess the identity of voices on records, most of them old ones. The first one, for example, was that of Enrico Caruso singing, “Johnny Get Your Gun” at a World War I bond rally.
However, the game rapidly was buried under a barrage of wisecracks and acrimony that sounded a little too edged to be quite comfortable. “What started as a simple game has developed into one of the greatest indoor fights,” lamented Mr. Morgan at one point. “I hope we can all leave this studio together.”
FROM THE POINT of view of the show, perhaps it is just as well that distemper occurred. “Sez Who” is a pretty witless and simple-minded parlor game, even as radio parlor games go, and was not especially helped by a sort of studied ignorance on the part of the panelists of almost every field with which the mystery voices were connected. “It takes two to play baseball?” asked Miss Lee innocently, a remark I always shall cherish. She was talking about comedy routine between Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig which was pretty awful, even for a couple of baseball players. It was this sort of thing that the ancients claim killed vaudeville and future generations well may say it was this kind of program that killed radio.

Freberg’s radio show debuted on July 14th, was cancelled on September 25th and went off the air October 20th. Bing Crosby was supposed to replace him but Bing wasn’t ready by the 27th. There was talk in Variety that Freberg would do another show; instead Broadway 1957 aired on the 27th in the Freberg slot. Four days later, it was reported Freberg turned down an offer from CBS to find something else for him.

In April 1958, Freberg had signed—along with Rowan and Martin—to host a summer replacement show for Dinah Shore sponsored by Chevrolet. And by June, he had opened his own ad agency. By month’s end, he and Gloria Wood had transcribed a six-minute blurb for Butternut Coffee. The syndicated TV Key column caught up with Freberg. This column was published August 25, 1958.

Stan Freberg Goes Commercial
By STEVEN H. SCHEUER
On the first floor of Hollywood's record-shaped Capital [sic] Record building, satirist Stan Freberg was busy recording a platter about Butternut, a certain gypsy. With a violinist, a tambourine player, a chorus of seven, Stan intoned "Butternut spelled backwards is Tun-ret-tub." This was take number ten and Stan and group had been at it four hours.
"This it normal for Freberg," said an engineer in the sound room. "I've seen him take all night on a single record."
After take ten, Stan called it quits until the next day. He and writer-director Allen Alch had been up till 3 a.m. working on the dialogue. And in two hours he had to report to NBC for rehearsal which included a choreography number for Sunday's Chevy Show, where Stan has been appearing every other week this summer.
Orville Sounds off
"I'm split down the middle," said Stan after the session. "Half of me is with my ad agency and my records, and the other half as an entertainer on the Chevy show. I'm very happy to be on the show, but right now I'm on a treadmill in offers. My agent keeps finding more things for me to do."
As a satirist on TV, Stan has his puppet, Orville, a creature from the Moon, speak up on local happenings and say things Freberg couldn't say himself.
"The Chevy Show is a nice show," said Stan about his new employers. "Bland maybe, but nice. The fans like the music and the show sells a lot of cars. I'm not knocking their success. It pays off. But you never hear people say, 'Gee, did you hear what they said on that show Sunday.' "
So as a satirist Stan perhaps was wondering what he was doing on the program, but nevertheless he was happy to be on it.
"Tell the people out there in Readerland," said Stan, "I'm trying to get to them as best as I know how."
Stan has already gotten to the people with records like "Banana Boat Song," "St. George," "John and Marsha," his radio show and his TV appearances on Club Oasis and with Frank Sinatra. The reviewers favorite terms for Orville and Freberg were "offbeat," "inventive," and "fresh'.
"Those are the terms I like to hear," Stan admitted without blushing. "I’d much rather be any of those than funny."
Proven Critics Wrong
His offbeat humor hasn't warmed the "big" hearts of the network and agency men. They've been telling Stan for some time. "You're just not commercial, Stan." To prove them wrong, Stan went into the ad game. After doing commercials on a small scale with the Cunningham and Walsh ad agency for two years, Freberg went into business on his own last November. With a staff of five, Freberg Ltd. is going great guns.
For instance, the Butternut coffee people used Freberg radio commercials in the Middle West to introduce their new coffee and indulged in no other form of advertising. They expected to sell a quarter of a million jars there in a few months. With the Freberg spots hawking coffee, the sales curve shot up. One million jars were sold in four weeks and the company plant got behind. That's how satire sells. Evidently the Freberg kind isn't just for sophisticates.
(Released by McClure Newspapers Syndicate.)

Three Little Bops Opening

Friz Freleng has the title of the cartoon dance onto the screen before our eyes.



And they bop to the music. There are 14 frames in this cycle. What you see below is pretty much the speed of the cycle in the cartoon.



Bob Matz gets his first animation credit. Hawley Pratt uses his stylised designs for the characters while Stan Freberg sings along to Shorty Rogers’ music which owes a lot to “Rock Around the Clock.”

Stan Freberg and the 61st Second

A lot of words have been thrown around about Stan Freberg upon his death yesterday. Let me toss in a couple of my own—insightful and articulate. One has to have both traits in volume to be a good satirist. And, that, Freberg was.

Freberg was no fan of rock-and-roll, political correctness, or the inanities of electronic media programming and advertising. He took no prisoners in “Elderly Man River,” a truly marvellous sketch where he butchered the lyrics of a Stephen Foster classic beyond recognition so it couldn’t possibly offend anyone. He saw through the showmanship of Elvis Presley and Johnny Ray by slashing and slicing their hits “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Cry,” technically and lyrically. His Jeno’s Pizza Rolls TV commercial seems to have been sparked by his umbrage that someone other than The Lone Ranger could dare to co-opt The William Tell Overture. “Green Christmas” took aim at commercialism of a religious holiday (Freberg’s father was a minister) before Charles Schulz did the same thing with some kids in a Christmas TV special. Some of his satire is awe-inspiring. You listen to it and can’t help but admire the cleverness and appreciate his intellect.

Parody was in his arsenal, too. His Jack Webb-inspired “St. George and the Dragonet” could be said to have sparked an entire comedy record industry.

And that was only the tip of the... well, I’d say “Fre-berg” but he’s used that one already. He began his entertainment career as a voice actor in cartoons. Warner Bros. fans (he worked for Columbia and UPA as well) can probably pick out a favourite. They’re liable to disagree on his best work; Freberg worked on great cartoons for a couple of directors. He moved on to the puppet show “Time For Beany,” eventually walking away with collaborator Daws Butler. Evidently Freberg didn’t think a lot of Beany’s creator, Bob Clampett; he went on TV with a Cecil-like creature and Clampett promptly sued. Children’s and comedy records followed, then his huge career in advertising. Sponsor magazine profiled him and his ad philosophies in its edition of October 14, 1963. You can read it (in pdf form) HERE.

I don’t have any personal stories about him; he spoke at a seminar locally years ago that was beyond my price range to attend. So allow me to purloin part of a feature story by Bert Prelutsky of the Los Angeles Times from June 25, 1967. Ken Sullet quoted in the story worked with him on the comedy album Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America. The other voice actor mentioned not only did an incredible amount of commercials using a variety of voices, he was the best part of “The Alvin Show” as inventor Clyde Crashcup.

● ● ●

During the first week of February he [Freberg] was to record eight radio commercials for a Chrysler campaign. The dual points of the campaign were that Plymouth had a tremendous selection of new models and colors, and that Plymouth dealers would go to any lengths to make you a deal on the one car just right for you. The eight spots were about one such dealer’s going mad trying to sell a Plymouth to a customer who couldn’t even decide what he wanted for breakfast.
One such recording session began at 5 in the afternoon at Radio Recorders Stage B, on Melrose, one of the only two studios in town with acoustics good enough for Freberg. (The other is at Capitol). By 1 o’clock in the morning, Shep Menkin, one of the best men in the business, who’s play the Plymouth dealer in the campaign, still hasn’t said line one into the mike. The reason: Freberg has been on Orange Drive all evening with a block-long extension cord, recording a passing cavalcade of Plymouth Furies. Up and down the street he’s had them for hours. At one point, though, a metallic gray Jag drove by with a For Sale sign in the window. Freberg jumped into one of the passing Furies. “Follow that Jag!” he tells the driver. Twenty minutes later he returns. It turns out he’d driven a metallic gray Jag on his honeymoon and he’s decided to buy this one.
In 1959 he married his secretary, Donna Andresen. Today she’s irreplaceable, not merely as a wife, but as one of the few people in the business he feels he can count on. She works in the studio, helping to edit the spots, sees to it that he meets deadlines, acts as a buffer between her husband and a sometimes belligerent world of clients, and serves as Freberg’s first reactor to new material.
A bright, attractive blonde in her 30s, she answers the question why Freberg works himself so hard: “He feels he has to do it the right way every time. I guess he thinks someone won’t get it. He even gets worked up reading his stuff to me. I tell him, you don’t have to sell it to me. But you can’t change him.” But she tries, anyway.
Freberg admits, “My wife is waging a campaign—less procrastination, less deliberation, less vacillation. I’m the guy in the Plymouth spots who can’t make up his mind.”
The Great Vacillator, in fact, is the nickname Sullet has given Freberg. “Never,” he advises, “go out for dinner with Freberg. You’re in a restaurant, sitting with him and four other people, and it begins.” Sullet suddenly gets a nasal twang in his voice, a pretty fair approximation of the Freberg delivery: “ ‘What are you having? The prime rib?. . .You think I’d like it?. . .You’d recommend it?. . .You really think I ought to have the prime rib?’’ He goes around the entire table that way. Finally the waiter comes and Freberg asks him what he should order. ‘The lobster, huh?. . . You’d recommend it highly?. . .I’ll be happy with it?’ So he orders the lobster. Suddenly he’s stretching his neck and staring over our heads at a table halfway across the room. ‘What’s that woman having over there? A London broil?. . .It looks kind of good. . .Waiter! Waiter!’”
Back at Radio Recorders, it’s 1:15 a.m. Freberg has gotten the Furies recorded and has made an offer on the Jag. He and Menkin are sitting at a card table, discussing the spot. In the sound booth, Donna and a couple of engineers are chatting and growing old.
Menkin and Freberg are trying out different readings. Finally they’re ready for the mike. After a few false starts, they go through the entire spot. Because of a nine-second Plymouth tag, they have only 51 seconds to work with. They finish the spot. It sounds good. They look at the booth, where Donna is shaking her head. It’s 10 seconds long.
Freberg throws his pencil at the music stand. “Who says a commercial has to be 60 seconds? Who’s the FCC anyway?”
They make a few cuts in the copy and try another take. This one is longer than the first; they’ve delivered their lines slower.
At 2:15, Freberg takes a vitamin B12.
By 2:30, they’re on take 21. It’s a good one, but the time is still two seconds too long. Freberg wants “One more take, just one more. . .” They do another take. Still two seconds too long.
At 2:35, the Frebergs argue about the wisdom of trying to fix the spot at this time. She wants him to go home. He wants to record. He wins.
At 2:37 he’s down on the floor doing push-ups.
Menkin stands watching. “Sun flower seeds, wheat germ, vitamins; he swims in his pool every day. He’s a nut about that stuff.”
Freberg disagrees. “I’m not a health food nut. I just eat more healthily than most people.”
It’s 2:53. They have managed to cut one of the two troublesome seconds out. Freberg is in the booth now, with his stop watch. “It’s a 61-second spot no matter how you slice it. Well, I’ll just tell the Plymouth dealers there’s something wrong with their watches.” He’s kidding.
He and Menkin go back to the mikes and wage war against a second of time. By 3:05 they’re still losing.
“Tell me what to do,” Freberg says to Donna. “If you want me to stay and try again, I’ll do it.” Everybody laughs.
Finally at 3:45, somehow they’ve done it. A poor battered and bleeding second, its tail between its legs, has crawled off to recuperate. It will be back, though. A battle’s a battle; a war is something else. And in Freberg’s experience, the 61st second has never failed to come out swinging when the next bell rings.
In the next two days and nights, Freberg’s supposed to record seven more spots. He won’t. He’ll have six spots completed when he sends the campaign to Detroit on Thursday morning.
During his recording sessions, he will suck on Pine Brothers honey cough drops and special vocal lozenges. After eight or nine hours in the studio, he will break out his Lif-O-Gen oxygen unit and take a few deep breaths, and then keep going into “The Golden Hours,” his apt name for overtime.
In the end, Menkin will say “That Freberg can really fuss away time. He comes up with a sensational product—but he wastes too much time. It’s not necessary.” Of course, it is necessary. It’s necessary because that’s the only way Freberg can function.

● ● ●

Want more Freberg? Seek out his 1957 radio show on CBS on-line. We’ve got some old newspaper articles quoting him HERE and HERE. But the best way I can end this post is to direct you to Mark Evanier’s remembrance of him HERE. Mark’s pretty insightful and articulate, too.

No Satire Wanted

Satire and the radio industry have never been a good match, as satirists have discovered. Satire has a point of view. People who disagree with that point of view get upset. And the last thing the radio industry wants is people upset with what it puts on the air because that could affect profits.

Fred Allen learned that lesson. So did Henry Morgan. And so did Stan Freberg. When television took over the living room from radio, Allen and Morgan became emasculated and spent their days as panelists for the Goodson-Todman empire. Freberg went into the advertising business he professed to hate and earned an extremely comfortable living—and still got some satiric licks in.

Freberg went from cartoon voice actor to puppeteer to recording star to radio to advertising, building his reputation along the way and leaving behind some truly brilliant work. Who can’t appreciate his stab at censorship (re-imagined by listeners today as an attack on political correctness) in his “Elderly Man River” sketch? Or his kick-in-the-you-know-whats at Lark Cigarettes for appropriating the William Tell Overture (complete with appearance by TV’s Lone Ranger and Tonto)?

Mr. Freberg’s creativity over six decades will be honoured at a function in Los Angeles on November 2nd. Read more about it HERE, especially those of you who can go. The rest of us will have to settle with munching on some Geno’s Pizza Rolls, or singing about Omaha, in tribute.

During the ‘50s, it appears some people didn’t appreciate Freberg’s talents. At least, when directed at them. Arthur Godfrey didn’t mind Bob and Ray making fun of him (even though some of it was a little nasty) and Ralph Edwards’ “This Is Your Life” got a screamingly funny makeover on Sid Caesar’s show. But when it came to Freberg, it looks like the subjects got a little unnerved.

Here’s a United Press story from 1956.

Satirist Is Stymied by Reluctant Performers
By VERNON SCOTT
UP Hollywood Correspondent
HOLLYWOOD, Aug. 31 (UP)—Stan Freberg, last of the vanishing tribe of satirists, claims Ed Sullivan, Arthur Godfrey and Ralph Edwards have cost him a small fortune by refusing to grant him permission to poke fun at them.
BEST KNOWN FOR his broad parodies on record, Freberg is a frustrated man. Unless he gets the green light from celebrities involved he can't cut recordings. "The only TV star ever to give me permission was Jack Webb," Stan said. "Jack has a sense of humor. And my record, 'St. George and the Dragonet,' sold a million and a half. I don't think it hurt his show one iota."
It turns out that Freberg, an owlish-looking individual with cropped hair and horn-rimmed glasses, is a dedicated man. Friday night he takes over CBS "Radio Workshop" to present a study of satire titled "It only hurts when I laugh."
"I BECAME a satirist about 1950 when a lot of absurdities in show business began to irritate me," he said, "I talked to Capitol records and they let me vent my feeling on wax.
“But a multi-million dollar company can't fight multi-million-dollar law suits every day. So I have to ask permission."
Stan, whose parodies of Eartha Kitt, Johnny Ray and other personalities are classics of satire, believes satire is a form of criticism. He considers himself a critic, beyond the reach of censorship.
"Satire started 2,000 years ago, to get around censorship by using humor. Through burlesque, lampooning and exaggeration the satirist used his wit as a weapon to point up flaws and shortcomings of the thing he criticized.
"But what critic sends his story to the person he's criticizing before it appears in print?" Stan asked. "I feel the same way about my recordings."
FREBERG SAYS he makes only three records a year "to retain the novelty of his work. His latest is a take-off on Elvis Presley's echo-chambered version of "Heartbreak Hotel."
"I didn't need Presley's go-ahead," he said. "Recording outfits figure record artists are fair game because they aren't public institutions like national TV figures.
"Sullivan has turned me down three times. And Edwards and Godfrey want no part of satire. I think if I'd just gone ahead and done them anyway they wouldn't have sued. But it's too late now, everyone's afraid they'd take me to court.
“It seems to me laughter is an escape valve for modern pressures,” Stan concluded. "But we're losing our sense of humor, and that could be dangerous."

A year later, Freberg waxed on about the same topic to the Associated Press. This was after his CBS radio show was pulled from the airwaves in what turned out to be a bit of a mess. Variety reported on September 26, 1957 that Freberg had been told the day before he would go off the air on October 20th, when Bing Crosby would take over his slot. But Crosby wasn’t ready. Seems he was lured by the sound of wedding bells. So Freberg’s show ran until the 27th and was replaced with Morgan’s game show “Sez Who!” (in its third time slot in less than four months). Freberg discussed a TV syndication deal with former NBC president Pat Weaver in October but it was not to be. There was talk a month after he was cancelled (and before he was off the air) that CBS wanted him to remain but Freberg rejected the idea (Variety, Oct. 31, 1957).

STAN FREBERG FINDING FEWER THINGS TO KID
By BOB THOMAS
HOLLYWOOD, Dec. 30 (AP) – Is America losing its sense of humor?
Perhaps we can laugh just as easily as before, but we are getting less and less opportunity. The decline of comedy in TV, movies and radio has been cited by many observers. In Atlantic Monthly, Steve Allen attributes this to such causes as the force-feeding of comedy on a mass scale, lack of training grounds for new comics and unsettled conditions in the world.
George S. Kaufman has also complained that funnymen have fewer things to kid these days; there are too many sacred cows.
Stan Freberg, the brilliant young satirist, can attest to this in the radio and record field. Freberg is a curly-haired fellow with a devilish sense of humor though he has the face of a hick "I'm from Pasadena, and I wear it like a badge," he says defiantly. His take-off on Dragnet, "St. George and the Dragonet," sold over 1½ million records, an amazing number for a non-musical, comedy disc.
NO SPONSORS

Since then he has satirized rock 'n roll singers, Johnny Ray, Texans, Harry Belafonte and other phenomena, his latest hit being a takeoff of Lawrence Welk called "Wunnerful, Wunnerful." Stan also lasted 15 weeks on network radio with a show that won critical acclaim but no sponsors. He shows scars from trying to be funny in both radio and records.
"The subjects you can satirize are getting narrower and narrower," he sighed. "I had records about Ed Sullivan, Arthur Godfrey and Ralph Edwards ready to go, but I couldn't get approval for them.
"Capitol Records is too concerned that the subjects will sue unless we get permission from them. The lawyers argue that a single takeoff on TV might not bring action, but the repetition of a record might be cause for damages. I can't convince them otherwise.
REJECT RECORDS
"Sullivan said the record was very funny, but wouldn't give his go-ahead. I sent the record to Godfrey and it was rejected, though I don't know if Godfrey himself ever heard it. Edwards was very nice about it. He said he'd never be able to do ‘This is Your Life’ with a straight face if he allowed the record to come out.
Tired of such goings-on, Freberg sneaked the Welk record out without the bandleader’s approval or the Capitol legal department’s permission.
Freberg said his tangle with radio was even more difficult. On his opening show, he had a satire of Las Vegas. It featured two desert hotels called El Sodom and Rancho Gomorrah, which vied to get the greatest attractions. The climax had one importing the Gaza Strip, parcel by parcel, and staging “The Suez Follies” complete with gunfire.
The other hotel countered by book an H-bomb, which returned the entire resort to desert again.
The skittish network made Freberg change the acts to “An International Incident” and an earthquake. “All the punch was taken out of the whole skit,” the comedian complained. He added that he once had to remove an imitation of Walter Winchell because a top network official hated him.
Fortunately for those who appreciate laughter, Freberg is not giving up. He has formed Freberg, Limited ("but not very much") and is cooking up a TV show for one of the networks. He also is producing some spot commercials which are hilarious.
He is determined to continue, though he readily admits that being funny these days is serious work.

And continue he did. That’s why he’s being honoured on the 2nd. It’ll be a little like “This Is Your Life.” Without Ralph Edwards. Which, somehow, is very appropriate.

Stan Freberg Has a Message

If Stan Freberg were doing what he was doing 60 years ago, many people would be cheering him on as he skewers Justin Bieber and the network people who produce and buy reality TV shows.

Yes, endless numbers of people do that today. But not with the panache and creativeness of Freberg.

Wicked satire is just one specialty of Stanley Victor Freberg, who turns 87 today. Cartoon voice actor. Puppeteer. Advertising media mogul. Children’s recording artist. He’s all those, but he’s best known for lancing stupidity and banality.

Freberg’s name became known in January 1951 when Capitol released “John and Marsha,” a record making fun of trite dialogue in radio soap operas (it consisted of Freberg as both John and Marsha, each calling the other by name as they get progressively older). It was a huge hit—an Associated Press story of February 1951 estimated Freberg’s royalties of 4½ cents a record would earn him $50,000—so, naturally, Capitol, released more of his parody records.

Like Fred Allen and Henry Morgan before him, Freberg ran into censorship and complaints from people who didn’t appreciate what he was doing. Here’s a United Press story from 1952. If you can imagine Freberg’s take on Bieber and how those little Beliebers would react, you’ll get the idea behind this story.

Platter Satire
'Cry' Fans Stan For 'Try'
By ALINE MOSBY
HOLLYWOOD, Apr. 3 (UP)—Singer Stan Freberg wailed today that Johnny Ray fans "just don't have a sense of humor" when they get screaming mad over Freberg's satire of the weeping crooner.
Ray, at devotees of the arts know by now, is the new swoon boy who sobs such sad songs as "Cry."
Freberg decided "so many sad songs come out of radios now they'll find the sets have been corroded by tears." So he and composer Rudy Raskin dashed off a murderous satire, "Try." Stan's record of it swept the country.
• • •
ON THE PLATTER he cries and gurgles, "don't you know . . . nobody laughs it up no more . . . Wipe off that smile and weep awhile . . . It's real George to cry . . . Don't be a snob . . . Sit down and sob . . Come in and Taa-ry!"
Freberg innocently shrugged that he doesn't see why Ray fans bombarded him with letters labelling him "a dirty louse."
"I got one card with flowers on it and I thought, boy, this one will congratulate me. But inside it said, 'drop dead'," sighed the 25-year-old composer-singer.
"I was just having a little fun. I didn't do this maliciously, but in a good-natured way. But when people start taking you seriously and can't laugh at themselves . . .
• • •
"RAY FANS want to shoot me. Others, though," he beamed, "think my record is the greatest thing since the invention of the wheel." Ray himself, Freberg added with a sob, was "honored that he was imitated."
Freberg has waded in hot water for his satire before. He plays Cecil the Seasick Serpent on "Time for Beany," the children's television puppet show. But he also records satirical tunes, such as his famous "John and Marsha."
This take-off on soap operas consisted of Freberg saying only "John . . . Marsha." The radio networks sniffed innuendo and banned the tune. "ALL I DID was say two words," said Freberg. "I'm a nice boy who lives with his father who's a minister in a nice home in Pasadena.
"My father said why did they ban the song, son? I had to tell him a lot of people have dirty minds. It's banned in the whole city of Boston. They can't even sell the record. That shows you what kind of minds they have in Boston."
Freberg's next record "Abe Snake for President."
"With each record you get a campaign button, 'I'll take a snake'."

Freberg went on to huge success in novelty music, and an even bigger career in novelty advertising (novelty because it used comedy); he resurrected John and Marsha for a Snowdrift shortening ad that was voted the best animated commercial of 1956 in the New York Art Directors Club annual show. His radio career may be best described as one that garnered a cult following, while he didn’t score success hosting TV shows (the Chevy Show in 1958 and a few specials) or in feature films (“Geraldine,” a movie about a crying pop singer, is long forgotten). He tried TV puppeteering after walking away from “Beany and Cecil” in 1954, only to be sued for $2,000,000 two years later by Bob Clampett, who won a court injunction to stop Freberg from using a snake-like character named Grover on TV because it looked too much like Cecil (Freberg later came up with an alien puppet called Orville you see to the right).

But probably the most unusual part of his career dealt with faith advertising. Perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise. Freberg’s father, the Rev. Victor Friberg, was born in Ferndale, Washington and later became a minister in California. Freberg’s rip at Christmas commercialism in his single “Green Chri$tma$” seems to have been sparked by religious indignation as much as anything else. Freberg won an award for his work on religious ads and it was written up in the popular press. The St. Petersburg Times of April 24, 1976 picked up this story.

Stan Freberg wins award for church ads
By BONITA SPARROW
Baptist Press
FORT WORTH—“I got into advertising because, as a consumer, I wondered why I had to be subjected to assaults on my intelligence. “I have wanted out since about 20 minutes after I got into it.”
The words are Stan Freberg’s, the creative genius whose satirical records—“St. George And The Dragonet” (which would never have seen the light of day, he says, “if Jack Webb hadn’t had a sense of humor”) and “Stan Freberg Presents The United States of America”—are classics and sold in the millions in the ‘50s. The records are now collectors’ items, selling for as much as $40 in specialty shops.
Freberg’s advertising agency has made a fortune producing commercials that kid around with the product to offer viewers and listeners a change from the pompous, irritating hard-sell that dominated TV advertising for so long.
Freberg was in Fort Worth from California to accept the Christian Service Award from the Southern Baptist Radio and Television Commission for a series of religious commercials he did for the Presbyterian Church. The Commission has previously honored Dale Evans Rogers and Astronaut James B. Irwin with a Christian Service Award.
The Agency cities Freberg “for pioneering in the use of humor and wit to breathe life into religious radio and TV spot announcements,” and for using his talents “to advance the cause of Christianity in America.”
“Actually, I didn’t do those Christian spots for the Presbyterians, or the Baptists, or any other organized religious group,” Freberg told “Master-Control” and “Country Crossroads” interviewers.
“I did them for the Lord. The attempt to do them at all was one of the great challenges of my life, not just as a writer, or producer, by as a Christian.”
The son of a retired Baptist minister (the Rev. Victor R. Freberg of Pasadena, Calif.), Freberg said the spots were aimed at people who were told that God is dead.
“I wanted to get the message across that God will help us if he let Him. I felt non-Christians would not listen to anything religious and I wanted to do something that would reach them. I thought it would be nice to have people talk as they usually talk, as opposed to what I call ‘advertisingese.’”
When the spots were aired, Time magazine described them as “a disarming natural conversational approach leading into a song that’s like a pop tune—sort of an espionage approach.”
In one commercial, a secular-type says he can’t make it to church because “this Sunday I’m playing golf,” and next Sunday “I promised to take the kids to the beach.” A voice (Freberg’s) asks, “Well, how about two weeks from Sunday?” “Oh, I never plan that far ahead. Two weeks. Why, the world could blow up by then.” There’s a meaningful pase and Freberg comes back softly with, “That’s right.”
A chorus then swings into a jingle that concludes, “It’s a great life, but it could be greater. Why try and go it alone? The blessings you lose may be your own.”
That spot, and others like it, enjoyed immense success. “Industry demographics show that in New York, for instance, you need at least 200-300 spots a week to reach all economic levels,” Freberg said. “Well, in Detroit the church got something like 500 spots a week for that commercial.”
Another well-received commercial—Freberg prefers to call them messages—featured a hippie-type character reading aloud from an art-deco poster the words of John 3:16 and saying, “That’s really heavy, man.” Freberg’s voice says, “Yes, it’s from an ancient book that’s been around more than 2,000 years. It’s called the Bible.”
“That particular message got the attention of a lot of young people,” Freberg said. “I guess I received more comments about that one from kids than any I did. They said it really gave them something to think about.”
Freberg’s background as a “P.K.” (preacher’s kid) made him into a “theoretical Christian” until his late teens when he “accepted Christ” for himself. From that point on, “everything changed.”
“It’s tough, in this fact-paced world, to sit back and let Jesus help you do things,” he said, “but if you can get the message across that you do not have to fight it alone, it helps.”
“The church can do a great work,” he said, “and the church is not as dumb as some people would have you believe. The church today is aware that it has trouble communicating with people outside its influence. If the church only had to worry about talking to the people who come all the time that’s great.
“But what about the people who are not sitting in church, and who may never get there? You have to talk to people in everyday language, not that of a pulpiteer. And you have to be relevant.
The reason he hasn’t done any church spots recently?
“Nobody’s asked me,” he said.

Freberg ended up doing more within a few years, making fun of TM with a character called Maharishi Cosgrove (“This is the single most important message of 1979” said Paul Stevens of the Southern Baptist Radio and Television Commission).

People may remember Freberg for Pete Puma at Warner Bros., or parodying “Dragnet” with “St. George and the Dragonet” (the opening two lines, by the way, were read by Bob Hope’s former announcer, Hy Averback). But I like to think of him taking shots at deserving targets, even when he was threatened with censorship or outright bans. Freberg once did an ad for the animal preservation film “Bless the Beasts and Children,” opening with an actor representing the phoney ‘American Gun Association’ condemning the movie because it was a vicious attack on American hunters. Another actor says “I wouldn’t let my kids see ‘Bless the Beasts and Children’ .. not unless I wanted ‘em to grow up hating guns.”

Stan Freberg’s satire still speaks volumes today.

The Rarest Stan Freberg Cartoon

About the only people who didn’t know what to do with cartoons in the 1950s were the people who produced them. All the film companies knew how to do was make them and distribute them to theatres. They were happy (and stupid) to rid themselves of old cartoons to television syndicators or networks who knew what to do with them—make lots of money.

The television programme businessmen realised if old cartoons could make them a windfall, maybe old children’s records could do the same. After all, the 78s and 45s had been released once and had likely wrung out most of their sales. Why not marry old records to new cartoons, ones especially made for television? They didn’t need theatrical-style animation on every frame—“NBC Comics” and (especially) “Crusader Rabbit” had proven kids would watch virtually static drawings over narration, so they were affordable to make.

However, the idea of cartoons based on children’s records seems to have had a lengthy gestation period. Former Disney animator Art Scott’s company produced Mel-O-Toons starting in 1959. But the idea goes back before that, to 1954, according to an article in Billboard in December that year. Scott, apparently, wasn’t involved at that point. But Ed Nofziger, later with UPA and Hanna-Barbera, was. So was ex-Disney animator Cecil Beard.

Here’s what Billboard had to say. It looks like Fischel had all the loose ends tied up.

Film Cartoons’ Kidisk Tie-In
HOLLYWOOD, Dec. 18.—The children’s record field is expected to achieve its biggest sales potential very shortly with the upcoming television debut of a series of animated cartoons, cued to the sound tracks from children’s records.
Record-Toons, Inc., TV film producers, have completed negotiations with Capitol and Columbia Records and acquired rights to approximately 200 kidisk selections for which a series of seven-and-one-half minute films are to be produced. Further negotiations with the other major recording companies are currently under way and are expected to be consummated shortly.
Bob Fischel, president of Record-Toons, revealed that negotiations with a number of TV film distributing organizations have been entered into with the announcement of a definite agreement to be made shortly.
Included in the block of records acquired from Capitol is music by Nat (King) Cole, Jack Smith, Van Alexander, Stan Freberg, Billy May, Jerry Marlowe, Sportsmen Quartet, Don Wilson, Knox Manning, Smiley Burnette, Paul Weston, Hal Derwin and Paul Sells.
A roster of 36 additional artists are available to Record-Toons, tho contracts have not been signed. A total of 132 selections have been made available from the Capitol catalog.
Clearances for the use of the disk sound tracks have been received from the artists involved, with Record-Toons also inking a contract with the American Federation of Musicians calling for repayment to musicians originally on the recording dates, and a 5 per cent payment to the AFM’s music performance trust fund.
Record-Toons is completing its first film, an original animated cartoon based on the Stan Freberg recording of “Dinky Pinky” on Capitol.
Additional executives of Record-Toons include Milt Feldman, producer; Jerry Marlowe, music supervisor; Ed Nofzinger [sic], art director; Cecil Beard, animation director; and Max Morgan, camera man.
Lloyd Dunn, vice-president of Capitol Records, and Hecky Krasnow, artists and repertoire director of the children’s department at Columbia, represented their firms in the negotiations with Record-Toons. Hal Spector handled details of the Columbia pact in New York for the new firm.
In addition, Record-Toons is currently planning two additional TV film series, using disk material as a basis. “Sandman,” a 15 minute teleshow tailored to urge youngsters to get to bed, and “Record-Toons Review,” a one-hour panel record discussion show, are both being scripted.

Billboard of April 16, 1955 shows Record-Toons was in the pilot stage with Fischel producing, then mentions the series no more. But the 3rd edition of The Encyclopedia of Animated Cartoons by Jeff Lenburg picks up the story.

RECORD TOONS
Legendary animator James “Shamus” Culhane produced and directed this short-lived, ultra-limited animated series of seven-minute theatrical cartoons on a shoestring budget in 1957 based on popular novelty tunes of the day. Besides serving as a creative supervisor on the series, UPA animator Ed Nofziger, best known for his work on UPA’s Mister Magoo cartoons, designed and animated the films along with fellow animators Cecil Beard, Joe Messerli (of TV’s Captain Fathom fame) and Milt Feldman, and films were drawn by animators Fred Crippen, Jack Heiter, Ed Levitt and Shirley Silvey. A few 16-mm prints that exist today are in blackand white, though it is possible the series was made in color. Listed below are known titles.
Produced and directed by James “Shamus” Culhane. Black and white. A Shamus Culhane Production.
1957:
“Dinky Pinky”; “Pepe the Possum”; and “D-O-G Spells Dog.”

Evidently, the few cartoons that were made were so forgettable, Culhane forgets to mention them in his autobiography Talking Animals and Other People.

The exact same concept appeared on TV screens several years later as Mel-O-Toons, using Capitol and RCA children’s records as narration for cartoons with lots of pans over backgrounds and bits of limited animation. They weren’t 7½ minutes like the Record-Toons were supposed to be; they were the length of the record plus opening and closing titles. And one of the Mel-O-Toons was Freberg’s “Dinky Pinky the Elephant,” released on disc about August 1953 by Capitol. Incidentally, it was written by Charlie Shows, who went on to Disney and then wrote every cartoon produced by Hanna-Barbera in its first two seasons.

You can see the UPA influence on them in the drawings below. The first is from “Noah’s Ark” and the second from “Helen of Troy.”




Time worked against the Mel-O-Toons. Between the time Record-Toons was a concept and the Mel-O-Toons were released, Hanna-Barbera opened its TV factory with limited animation that was a lot less limited than what narration-over-records delivered, and starred characters like Huckleberry Hound and Quick Draw McGraw that were funny and enduring. Mel-O-Toons was merely one of a number of inexpensive series that stations could buy to fill our their morning or afternoon roundups of cartoons dominated by AAP packages of Bugs Bunny and Popeye.

The idea of combining kids’ records and animation is still a fun one and, surprisingly, has its backers today. “Daffy Duck’s Rhapsody”, with CGI animation atop a soundtrack of an old Capitol record by Mel Blanc, hit screens this year. And someone else got the idea of augmenting the song with clips from some classic cartoons and posted it on-line.