The Horn Blows—And So Does the Movie

Unlike Bob Hope or Red Skelton, movie stardom wasn’t really in the cards for Jack Benny. Popularity on radio didn’t translate to popularity on the big screen. He seemed to go from studio to studio making a couple of pictures along the way, all of which got plenty of publicity but mixed reviews.

Critics seem to agree Jack’s best film was ‘To Be or Not to Be’ (1942). Jack’s writers seemed to agree his worst was ‘The Horn Blows at Midnight’ (1945). At least, they agreed that way when it came to writing a running gag. Jack milked the supposed mediocrity of the movie for practically the rest of the run of his career in radio.

Instead of posting a review, here’s a little insight into the filming from the Vidette-Messenger of Valparaiso, Indiana of October 19, 1945, some six months after the film was released.

Leave It To Comedian Jack Benny To Be Working On An Angle
Jack Benny’s world is coming back to normal these days after a stretch on the Warner lot where the comedian made his latest picture, “The Horn Blows at Midnight,” currently at the Premier Theatre, in which he is co-starred with lovely Alexis Smith.
If Mr. Benny walks like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, it can be blamed upon Hugh Reticker, art director for “The Horn Blows Midnight,” who designed one of the cock-eyedest sets over seen on a sound stage.
Certain exciting sequences of the picture take place on the roof of a skyscraper hotel in Manhattan. The clock tower and penthouse part of the roof-line were built by Reticker on Stage Seven at Warner Bros. and it looked as though a high wind had tilted it 20 degrees to the southwest.
The cameraman, headed by Sid Hickox, viewed the set with considerable satisfaction and with much less alarm than did actor Benny. To them the odd angle at which it stood was an advantage because it helped them in registering the tower as of great height. above the street.
Part of the roof-top scene was made on the highest available roof In Los Angeles. But the close-ups were photographed on a set built to duplicate exactly, the roof line of the tall building selected.
The tower clock was set at twelve o’clock because that is the moment the script willed for Jack to blow Gabriel’s trumpet.
The hands of the clock were manipulated by hand, so that they could be shown approaching the zero hour in scenes just previous to the midnight one.
The clock was built on a bias but this was straightened out by the camera’s lens without making the cameraman stand on his head to photograph it.
It is all a matter of mathematics, the camera crew told Jack Benny again and again. Nevertheless, it left Mr. Benny loaning more than slightly to the left.
“I go home at night,” Jack complains, “and twist the pictures on the walls into all kinds of ridiculous angles. I’m so used lo seeing things on a slant that I’m convinced my piano at home has one short leg.
“I’ll be glad to get bank to heaven—in the picture—where everything is finally straightened out.”

‘The Horn’ sounded the end of Jack Benny’s starring career in Hollywood. He made a cameo appearance in ‘It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World’ (1963) and a few other films but never again had his name above the title. It hurt nothing than perhaps his ego. His radio career was never affected, he segued into the small screen with no problems and was considered a show business legend before he died.

Juke Box What?

That Tom and Jerry! Remember that funny cartoon about the..... well, actually, I don’t remember this one. Billboard magazine announced it in its edition of June 2, 1951:

JUKE BOX MOUSE GETS FILM NOD
CULVER CITY, Calif., May 26—Metro-Goldwyn Mayer cartoons are set to produce Juke Box Mouse with this film the next on the schedule. Dealing entirely with popular music, it follows a long series of cartoons featuring classical tunes. These include Academy Oscar winner Cat Concerto, Hollywood Bowl Cat, Saturday Evening Puss and Johann Mouse.

There are several problems with the story. ‘Saturday Evening Puss’ featured jazz, not classical music. ‘Tom and Jerry at the Hollywood Bowl’ is the proper name of one cartoon. And, finally, the most puzzling question:

What cartoon is ‘Juke Box Mouse’?

It’s nowhere to be found in the list of MGM cartoon productions Thad Komorowski has on his blog (the product of several fine and accurate researchers). And I can’t think of a cartoon which came out after all the ones listed above that involves a juke box (when I write stuff like that, someone quickly comments to jog my failing memory).

We mentioned in this post that MGM changed the name of a number of its cartoons. The book Contemporary Theatre, Film, and Television, Gale Research Co. (2007) reveals a few others from the Hanna-Barbera unit, though I don’t know the source of its information.

‘Cat Nipped,’ ‘Kitty Foiled’ released as ‘Mouse Trouble’ (1944).
‘Mouse to Dinner’ released as ‘The Mouse Comes to Dinner’ (1945).
‘Love Boids’ released as ‘Flirty Birdy’ (1945).
‘Manhattan Serenade’ released as ‘Mouse in Manhattan’ (1945).
‘Hold That Lion’ released as ‘Jerry and the Lion’ (1950).
‘Party Cat’ released as ‘Saturday Evening Puss’ (1950).
‘City Cousin, ‘Muscles Mouse’ finally released as ‘Jerry’s Cousin’ (1950).
‘F’r Safety Sake’ released as ‘Safety Second’ (1950).
‘Tyke Takes a Nap’ released as ‘Hic-Cup Pup’ (1954).
‘One Quack Mind’ released as ‘Happy Go Ducky’ (1958).

I can just hear Fred Quimby tell Bill and Joe that the word “boids” doesn’t have the dignity associated with MGM.

Something else the story tells you is how long it took for MGM to release some of its cartoons. ‘Johann Mouse’ didn’t appear on screens until March 1953, almost two years after this story came out. That backlog of cartoons is the reason MGM gave for closing its studio (something it called “temporarily” at the time) in 1957. That forced Hanna and Barbera to go hunting for new work, something that changed television animation forever.

Farewell to a Roach

One third of The Roaches died this week.

That happens to be Alan Sues, though the only way you’d know that is if you saw an Edie Adams TV special in 1964 where she, Sues and Soupy Sales did a Beatles spoof as The Roaches (their hit was “Don’t Step on Me”).

One of the great fallacies about ‘Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In’ is the thought that the cast, except former sitcom star Judy Carne, came out of nowhere. All of the players had previously worked in television in varying degrees in the ‘60s, including Sues. Here’s a feature story about him from Pasadena’s The Independent Star-News of June 5, 1966, a few years before he was hired by George Schlatter for the ‘Laugh-In’ cast.



Not Just Nervous, Completely Nuts
Madman From the Mad Show
By Ray Duncan
ALAN SUES says he learned much of value in Pasadena to aid him in his current career.
That statement may or may not be a tribute to our city. He is one of the stars of “The Mad Show.”
That wild and irreverent theatrical non-sequitur, at P.J.’s Theatre in Hollywood, is based on the contents of Mad Magazine. Those contents require a high level of eccentricity for their interpretation. Sues was one of five performers picked to make the madness come to life in Southern California, in a production running concurrently with the highly successful version operating off-Broadway, and with two other companies now being organized for other cities likely to appreciate insanity.
His Pasadena preparation for this role consisted of attendance at Pasadena City College and Pasadena Playhouse, after his family had taken up residence here when he was 9 years old.
“I won a book of Shakespeare at Pasadena City College,” he remembers, “for giving the best reading from that author’s works. But I recall even then, when I was trying to be tragic, everybody seemed to laugh at my Hamlet’s soliloquy.”
For several years he continued to resist the tragic fate of being comic. He graduated from the Playhouse in the same class with George Nader, but not without being kicked out of school a couple of times for insubordination, for circulating angry petitions, and for fomenting student protests. Even as a student-protest leader he was not recognized as a comedian.
And in New York, where he went to study at the American Theatre Wing, he was taken seriously. And on Broadway, in his first big break, he was cast as the semi-tragic young man in “Tea and Sympathy,” creating the leading role opposite Deborah Kerr, and continuing to play it opposite Joan Fontaine and Mary Fickett.
Even in films and television he has usually been cast as a reasonably solid citizen, in “The Americanization of Emily” and “Move Over, Darling,” and “The Wheeler Dealers”; or on “Twilight Zone” and in “Many Happy Returns” or “Wild, Wild West.”
“But in ‘The Wheeler Dealers,’” he says, “somebody discovered that I looked funny when I rolled my eyes. After that I got a lot of offers to do eye-rolling scenes, but I turned most of them down. That kind of thing can ruin a career.”
To express his horror at the thought of it, he rolled his eyes. He has startling eyeballs that are inclined to bulge, and a habitual half-hurt, half-humorous look of protest.
The discovery of his comic cast of mind occurred — as many Hollywood discoveries do — at a party. He and his wife, Phyllis, were so funny together that somebody suggested they ought to do a night-club act. Matters were set in motion toward that end. The act was a success, and is still reactivated between acting assignments.
“Actually,” he says, “I hate night-club work. See this scar on my forehead? I got that when a drunken woman threw her glass at me. Another time a man reached out and ripped my wife’s dress. The women are the worst. The next day they always come back and apologize—the nicest people you can imagine. But in night-clubs, drinking, they can be vicious.”
What he likes about “The Mad Show,” which is a series of skits and sketches and songs and nonsense, is not merely that nobody throws glasses (only soft drinks are served in the intimate little cabaret-theatre), but that each of the performers gets a chance to play a wild variety of roles during the evening.
He likes it also because it avoids the danger of typecasting — except as a madman. “I was becoming type-cast in films as the nervous, harried person. In ‘The Mad Show’ I’m not just nervous, I’m completely nuts.”
His family has abandoned Pasadena for a ranch near Solvang, but he occasionally gets back here to renew old friendships. For the future, he has written a movie script (“Several studios are willing to buy my script, but the author won’t sell unless he can pick the star, which will be me”); and he has a TV pilot making the rounds. He is also deep in the greeting-card business, with a new humorous “gimmick-card” coming on the market. It is too secret for him to describe, but he laughed aloud at the very thought of it.
Meanwhile, there is always “The Mad Show,” if he can survive the demands of its demented script. He has lost 30 pounds since the strenuous show opened several weeks ago, but he insists that he has not lost his sanity.

There’s an interesting gay subtext to the article. Nader had a long-time husband—both were close friends of Rock Hudson—and when Sues’ wife got a divorce in the late ‘50s, she was working in Liberace’s stage show.

Sues’ main sketch characters on ‘Laugh-In’ were outrageous gay stereotypes. Then, they were seen as fun campiness. Who knows what future generations will think; people over the years have warmed less and less to any kind of stereotypes. Sues himself is far less remembered today than two other not-very-veiled gay men on TV about the same time—Paul Lynde and Charles Nelson Reilly. Those two had the advantage of playing “themselves,” spouting clever, bitchy wit on game shows. Sues was buried in a bunch of characterisations on a show that very quickly flamed out of the top of the prime time ratings. Still, there he was, lending a “we’re here, we’re queer” validation to ‘60s gays looking to see any positive trace of themselves anywhere. That’s not a bad legacy.

‘Laugh-In’ hasn’t aged terribly well, and the show’s ubiquitous laugh track annoyingly stepped on everyone’s punch lines, but there’s something you have to like about Sues as Uncle Al the Kiddies’ Pal screaming back and forth at the constantly-interrupting Jo Anne Worley. Alan Sues made people laugh. Even as a musical Roach. That’s not a bad legacy, either.

The Animators of Hillbilly Hare

Today it seems every 14-year-old with an internet connection can divine, with absolute certainty, who animated each scene of every cartoon made before even their parents were born. I don’t say this pejoratively, but wistfully. There was a time when such animation identifications were rare and, therefore, a real delight.

One of the best places—well, it might have been the only place—to talk about Warner Bros. cartoons was on Usenet at alt.animation.warner-bros. The calibre of posters was extremely high and quite a number had worked with the old time animators. One was Greg Duffell, who worked for Chuck Jones but has been living for some years back home in Canada.

One day, Greg posted a breakdown of the animators who worked on one of the Warners cartoons and it was greeted by almost everyone with enthusiasm. It was such an education to me, I actually saved the posts and made hard copies of them (on a 9-pin printer; kids, ask your parents about that) lest I never see them again. One was for ‘Hillbilly Hare,’ one of the McKimson unit’s more acclaimed efforts.

Let’s take a look at that post from June 17, 1998 where Greg reveals all. Just a note, Greg refers to an article in Animato! magazine. I don’t recall if the controversy was discussed on the newsgroup and my subscription of Animato! somehow vanished into the ether after paying for it.

Subject: "Hillbilly Hare" notes

Amidst all the McKimson Animato! controversy...here is an analysis of a truly great Warner cartoon. This has all the ingredients of a memorable Bugs cartoon: singing, dressing in drag..and lots of violence.

The animation team were: Charles McKimson, Emery Hawkins, John Carey, Phil de Lara and Rod Scribner. Tedd Pierce wrote the film with Robert McKimson directing the crew.

The film starts out with Bugs singing "I Like Mountain Music" animated by Emery Hawkins. He also does the second scene where Bugs first gets prodded by a Martin gun.

Charles McKimson, as per usual in Robert McKimson cartoons, handles the extreme close-ups of Bugs and the following few scenes of the dark haired Martin talking with Bugs. Bugs says "Boo Hoo" mockingly contemplating his demise at the end of a Martin rifle. Bugs plugs up the barrel with a carrot and it's Martin that gets blasted.

Bugs walks away from one Martin right into another, this time, red-haired Martin. John Carey animates this whole section of Bugs outsmarting another Martin.

Scribner's first work is seen as the two brothers walk over an animated hill in search or their quarry.

Next we see a Phil de Lara scene of Bugs singing "Pop goes the Weasel". There is some nice, cute-faced Bugs here....quite different than the way that Bob McKimson usually draws him in his layouts. De Lara also does the next scene of the Martins going in chase.

Hawkins picks up as Bugs runs for a Powder house, followed in hot pursuit by the Martins. Bugs sneaks out and hides behind a tree, encouraging the Martins to keep trying to illuminate the dark powder house with their lighter. The powder house explodes.

De Lara probably animated the next scene of the Martin complaining about his lighter fluid and the next few scenes of the Martins running down a hill and noticing Bugs in drag.

Charles McKimson probably does the close up of Bugs as a woman.

De Lara does a really nice scene of the Martins lusting after the dolled-up Bugs. The dark haired one does a lovely little wind up to walking inside the house and the other Martin does a funny little animal like noise to camera. Phil continues to animate as Bugs puts money in the juke box.

Charles McKimson animated the Hillbillies inside the juke box.

Emery Hawkins was assigned the scenes of Bugs and the Martins beginning the genuine square dance up to where Bugs pulls the plug and starts to masquerade as a square dance caller.

Rod Scribner animates a long sequence here as the Martins and Bugs go out the door, the hillbillies following Bugs' increasingly bizarre call outs. The Martins pull each other's beards only to cut by a quick clip of shears that Bugs pulls out.

Charles McKimson animates a sequence of the Martins swishing around in water and then jumping into a pig pen and dancing with pigs. He also does a nice scene of Bugs playing the fiddle like it's an upright bass, twirling around in a circle and doing a little double bounce step.

The "whomping" and hitting and eye-poking duties are handled by Rod Scribner right through the whole hay bailer sequence.

Emery Hawkins has a tour-de-force, animating the entire ending of this film starting from the "right hand over, left hand under". My favourite scene here is a long panning sequence as the Martins run around jumping over fences and around rocks---it's just masterfully done. Bugs pulls them back from the brink with one of his call-outs...only to send them right out over a cliff right afterward. Here the Martins look a lot like the characters in Davis' "Holiday for Drumsticks", which Hawkins worked on.

Bugs casually finishes his square dance calling looking down on the Martins from the top of the cliff, watching them collapse in a heap. Hawkins gets a nice close-up of Bugs fiddling to finish off this delightful cartoon.

Of course the highlight of the cartoon is the square dance sequence which is nothing short of brilliantly conceived and written. Blanc again proves he's a great singer too. I don't know who did the red haired Martin's voice----it's not Blanc.

This is one of many great McKimson films produced in this era, one I don't think I'll ever tire of.

Greg just dealt with the animators. The layouts were by Cornett Wood and the backgrounds by Dick Thomas.

Yowp Update: I had written the non-Mel Blanc voice in this cartoon remained unidentified. As you can read in the comments, historian Keith Scott has identified it to be radio actor John T. Smith. There are all kinds of internet sources that are not reliable. However, Keith’s research is meticulous so if he says it’s John T. Smith, that’s who it is. Smith is one of the people Keith has been trying to find more information about. If J.T. is known at all, it’s for lending a gruff voice to a number of characters in Chuck Jones’ Warner cartoons around 1950, including the bully dog in ‘Chow Hound’ (1951). Thanks to Thad for the note.

Many of the artists at the Warners studio were involved in lunch-hour square dancing. Jones, especially, took to it and was involved in a square dancing organisation that travelled here and there. You can read about one of Jones’ experiences in a letter to his daughter HERE. You have to wonder if the musicians in the Sourbelly Trio are caricatures of the ones at those noon-hour dances (it is safe to say there was musical accompaniment).

Lucky Ducky

If someone were to compile a list of the top five most famous gags by Tex Avery at MGM, this would have to be in there. It’s from ‘Lucky Ducky’ (1948).





One of my other favourite gags in this cartoon is a visual pun that comes out of nowhere. Other directors had lame visual puns (can anyone say “Famous Studios”?). Avery either set up a visual pun to make fun of it, or he surprised the audience by interrupting the action with one, then carrying on. That’s what he does in this cartoon.



When the sign said “School Crossing,” it meant it.

Something else remarkable is the fact that Avery created Daffy Duck in a hunting picture. Here, he has an entirely different smarty-pants duck in a hunting picture, one you certainly wouldn’t mistake for Daffy. The size of the character and lack of dialogue in ‘Lucky Ducky’ help but the gags and pace of the cartoon are quite different than ‘Porky’s Duck Hunt’ (though I miss the singing fish in this one).

The animators in this cartoon are a transitional group—Walt Clinton and Grant Simmons worked on Avery’s later cartoons while Preston Blair worked on the early ones. They’re joined by Louis Schmitt. Let Kevin Langley tell you more about it by clicking on his name.

Hollywood’s Best (as of 1949)

The stars agree—Ashton Kutcher’s performance in ‘Dude, Where’s My Car’ is not the best of all time.

Mind you, there’s a reason, and it has nothing to do with Mr. Kutcher’s abilities as an actor. The stars were surveyed in 1949. At last check, Mr. Kutcher wasn’t around then. However, reporter Bob Thomas was, and he seems to have done a series of straw polls on the topic of Greatest Performances. You might have guessed some of the names on the list. A couple you may never have heard of.

Actors Cite Best Movie Performances
By BOB THOMAS
HOLLYWOOD, June 1.—(AP)—What was the greatest performance in the history of motion pictures?
This is a question that draws sharply divided opinion in Hollywood. I have asked more film stars for their verdicts, since they should be expert on the subject. Here are some of the latest answers:
Gene Autry—“The one I remember most is Greta Garbo in ‘Camille.’ I don’t think that will ever be topped.”
Lucille Ball—“Vivien Leigh in ‘Gone With the Wind.’ It’s a difficult role and she did a great job. I have seen it eight times and try to catch it every year.”
Fred MacMurray— “It’s hard to pick one, but I think Barbara Stanwyck in ‘Stella Dallas’ left the biggest impression with me.”
NEVER FORGET
Claudette Colbert—“I’ll never forget Helen Hayes in ‘The Sin of Madelon Claudet.’ I cried and cried.”
Robert Young—“John Barrymore was outstanding in anything . . . to name one, ‘Topaz.’
And Laurence Olivier’s job in ‘Hamlet’ was one of the best of all time.”
Joan Bennett—“Vivien Leigh in ‘Gone With the Wind.’
Irene Dunne—“Diana Wynward in ‘Cavalcade’ stays in my memory as the best. She was fascinating.”
Alan Ladd—“Clark Gable in ‘Gone With the Wind.’ That was the most perfect casting in history.”
Jimmy Stewart—“I think maybe Frederic March in ‘Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde.’ It was a frightening thing to watch.”
Marie Wilson—“Charles Coburn in ‘More the Merrior’ was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, especially the scene where he lost his pants."
Rosalind Russell—“Cary Grant in ‘None But the Lonely Heart.’ I had always considered him an expert comedian, but my opinion of him went up a hundred-fold when I saw him in that dramatic role.”
GARBO IN ANYTHING
Diana Lynn—“Garbo in ‘Camille,’ or anything.”
Erich von Stroheim—“This may sound like immodesty, because I directed her, but I would pick ZaSu Pitts in ‘Greed.’ A great tragedienne.”
Gloria Swanson—“I don’t see many pictures, but the best performance I can think of is Van Heflin in ‘Johnny Eager.’”
Gregory Peck—‘Charlie Chaplin in everything; he’s the greatest of actors. He can make you laugh one minute, cry the next. For the actresses, Garbo—especially in ‘Camille.’”
James Cagney—“For an all-round flawless performance, I’d pick J.M. Kerrigan in ‘The Informer.’ There was nothing you could find wrong with it.”
Maureen O’Hara (who didn’t see a movie until she was 18)—“I’d select three: Bette Davis in ‘Dark Victory,’ Fredric March in ‘Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde’ and Charles Laughton in ‘Mutiny on the Bounty.’”
Coleen Gray—“Laurence Olivier in ‘Wuthering Heights,’ especially the bedroom scene.”
John Lund—“Alfred Lunt in ‘The Guardsmen’—and he’s no relative of mine, either.”

It strikes me as odd that many actors insist comedy is more difficult than drama, yet “best performances” almost always tend to be dramatic, as if a comedic performance can’t be taken seriously because a comedy isn’t serious.

The mention of Robert Young, whose television career later overshadowed his work in films, gives me a chance to post another nice-looking newspaper movie ad, this one from 1939. Through the ‘30s and into the war years, there were all kinds of virtually plotless films solely designed for star-gazing. ‘Honolulu’ is one of them. Young was one of the stars.



George Burns and Gracie Allen were to supply the laughs but, oddly, one of radio’s most famous comedy couples spent virtually the entire film apart. Below is one of Gracie’s numbers. Yes, Gracie sings. And you’ll quickly perceive she’s not with the real Marx Brothers. They’re actually the King’s Men in disguise; they were singers on a show featuring another of radio’s most famous comedy couples, Fibber McGee and Molly.

The Greatest Backgrounds in Siam

Art Heinemann never seemed to stay at any animation studio for any length of time. He toiled for the Harman-Ising studio in the ‘30s, jumped to Disney, stopped at the Walter Lantz studio in between two stints at Warner Bros, was the responsible for the brief series of Daffy Dittys released by RKO in the late ‘40s, then moved on UPA and the John Sutherland studio, all within about 15 years.

Heinemann’s stay at Lantz wasn’t terribly long—June 3, 1943 to September 26, 1944 according to Joe Adamson’s research through the studio’s records—but it was memorable. He seems to have meshed well with director Shamus Culhane, no mean feat in itself. Not only is he credited with simplifying Woody Woodpecker’s design from the multi-coloured, stump-legged bird of the first few cartoons, he provided some great layouts for a couple of shorts featuring Miss X, Lantz’ answer to Tex Avery’s Red at MGM.



In ‘The Greatest Man in Siam’ (1944), Culhane relied on background art to meet Lantz’ budgets, which were below both Warners and MGM. This drawing is part of the opening scene of the exterior of the Siamese village. There’s no animation in almost the first 20 seconds of the cartoon—it’s nothing but camera-work over backgrounds—and there’s another 29 seconds of the same thing a little bit later. Less animation equals less money spent, and Culhane instead wisely used his animators later in the cartoon for dance sequences.



Heinemann came up with various angles for the interior settings in this cartoon. The archways are stylised which match some of the stylised animation. Here are a few of them.





The background artist is Phil DeGuard, who’s better-known to fans of old cartoons for his work with Maurice Noble in the Chuck Jones unit at Warners in the ‘50s (Heinemann designed for Jones prior to that). The animation jumps back and forth from standard ‘40s type to stylised movement. The credited animators are two of the best—Pat Matthews and Emery Hawkins. We’ll have some of their work in a future post.

A Smear Grows in Manhattan

Bugs Bunny gives “Lolly” his life story in ‘A Hare Grows in Manhattan,’ a fine 1947 cartoon by Friz Freleng. The credited animators are Manny Perez, Ken Champin, Gerry Chiniquy and Virgil Ross. It’s Virgil who was responsible for the expressive animation of Bugs in his hole, including a couple of smear drawings.




Bea Benaderet plays the not-too-veiled stand-in for Louella Parsons and co-writer Tedd Pierce supplies his voice for a couple of members of a Brooklyn dog gang.

The cartoon opens with a couple of pans over long backgrounds of somewhat stylised homes in Beverly Hills and ends with this street shot from a layout by Hawley Pratt.



Paul Julian disappeared from the Freleng unit for awhile around this time. Terry Lind and then Phil DeGuard (both late of the Walter Lantz studio) created the background art until Julian returned. It’s DeGuard’s work you see in this cartoon.

The Wives of Radio’s Funny Men Speak

Here’s a 1945 wire service article that’s pretty self-explanatory. Long-time TV and movie columnist Bob Thomas, in a feature story early in his career at the A.P., simply asked wives of some of radio’s comedians a couple of basic, and fairly unimaginative, questions: “Is he funny at home?” and “Is he like what you hear on the radio?”

There probably are no surprises here to anyone familiar with the people being discussed. Jack Benny was known as being a great laugher at someone else’s jokes, especially George Burns.’ Interestingly, Gracie Allen isn’t interviewed for this piece. It certainly wasn’t because she was a star because Thomas talked with Marian Jordan.

There’s a formality here that has long gone out of style. Who reads today of a wife being referred to be her husband’s name? It was considered improper to do so otherwise in a formal setting at one time; I recall reading an Emily Post column from years ago on the proper manner of addressing a married woman in formal settings. It would have been “Mrs. Bob Hope” not “Mrs. Dolores Hope.”

There was a time, long before instant communications of today, when newspapers would bank a feature story for whenever they had available space, even months after getting it on the wire. The earliest I’ve found this piece was January 15, 1945.

Comedians Play It Straight Off Stage
By ROBERT THOMAS
Associated Press Newsfeatures
HOLLYWOOD — Does Jack Benny give his wife $1 spending money weekly?
Are Fibber McGee’s closets piled with junk?
Does Bob Hope whistle at girls who pass his home?
Radio and movie fans may wonder where a comedian’s characterization ends and his home life begins. Their wives will tell you that the funnyman is like any normal husband around the house, except for a more marked sense of humor. And the wife’s function is equally normal, except for the duty of delivering a verdict on the comic’s latest gag.
Mrs. Bob Hope says her husband is “very delightful” at home, but no cut-up. “He is an intelligent, well-balanced man,” she declares, “and he has his serious side as well.”
* * *
TRIES OUT JOKES
Sometimes he tries out untested jokes on her. She listens faithfully to every broadcast and will tell him if he seems off his routine, providing he inquires.
Hope’s large-scale wanderings to entertain servicemen would seem hard on the wife at home, but Mrs. Hope considers herself “much luckier than the wives who haven't seen their husbands in two or three years.”
Mary Livingston thinks her husband, Jack Benny, has “a wonderful sense of humor,” but the “Love in Bloom” virtuoso is little different from any other husband. “He doesn't wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me a new gag he has just dreamed up,” she assures.
Mary says Jack doesn’t invariably convulse guests at their home. “He is usually laughing at someone else.”
Sylvia Fine, who is Danny Kaye’s wife and writer, says her husband is even funnier at home than professionally. She adores his “child’s sense of humor,” which she says is keener than most people’s.
* * *
SEES HUMOROUS SIDE
“You can't make him be funny when he doesn’t want to be,” she remarked, “but usually he sees the humorous side of everything—even little things about the house.” She says they have a perfect domestic arrangement—“He bawls me out for taking so long to dress and I criticize his professional performances.”
When told her father was a funny man, Bob Burns’ young daughter replied, “Yes when we have company.”
The man with the relatives says he soft pedals the gagging at home for fear of driving his family bugs, but Mrs. Burns opines that he is “decidedly funny.” That is no small tribute from Mrs. Burns, who hears his radio gags many times since she does his stenography.
As to that now-famous bit of plumbing, his wife says Robin plays the Bazooka very little around the house, usually only for company. Anyway, Mrs. Burns adds, she likes it.
* * *
NEAT FIBBER McGEE
Marian Jordan (Molly) testifies that unlike his Fibber McGee counterpart, Jim Jordan is very neat and thoughtful about the house and doesn’t accumulate masses of hardware and junk in closets. Also unlike the sage of Wistful Vista, Jim is very mechanically minded and handy at fixing things.
His family thinks he is even funnier at home than on the air. Jordan was a singer before he found the gold mine in comedy and loves to sing around the house, whether or not company is present.
Eddie Cantor is a card around the house, says his wife, Ida, but still can be very serious and is a strict father to his famed five daughters. They are also very strict with him—when he tries out his gags on them. Failure to evoke laughter from his feminine audience usually outlaws a joke from his repertoire.
Mrs. Cantor says she picked Eddie out of the crowd when they were teen-agers in New York’s East Side because of his sense of humor. He was even funnier then, she reflects.

A Bob Clampett Debu-uuuuuut

Only one man would make a 1960s children’s TV cartoon featuring a character singing while rubbing her nose and scratching her butt at the same time.

It wasn’t Jay Ward or Bill Scott of ‘Bullwinkle’ fame. And it certainly wasn’t Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera. No, it was that man whose animated likeness and lyricised name were featured in every cartoon, Robert Emerson Clampett. The show was ‘Beany and Cecil.’ Eventually.

Both Bob Clampett and his cartoon invention had lineages in the entertainment business. Clampett started working on Warner Bros. cartoons in 1930, eventually being promoted to a director’s job and crafting theatrical shorts featuring Porky Pig, Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck. He moved into early local television in Los Angeles and developed several puppet shows, the first of which revolved around a boy and his buddy, a sea serpent named Cecil.

Clampett brought the characters back and they debuted on Saturday, January 6, 1962 as the stars of a revamped ‘Matty’s Funnies,’ an early-evening show that brought together tired old Paramount cartoons like Baby Huey and Little Audrey. No doubt the time slot was picked because Hanna-Barbera had three very successful half-hour cartoon shows in the early evening on different weekdays (same generally time, but not on a competing day). The Associated Press’ intrepid West Coast TV columnist told all about it in a story that appeared in newspapers a week later. For reasons unknown, Bob Thomas spells the lead character’s name incorrectly.

Beanie And His Pal Back On Television
By BOB THOMAS
AP Movie-TV Writer
HOLLYWOOD (AP) — Beanie and his pal, Cecil the seasick sea serpent, are back on TV!
This news may be received with apathy east of San Bernardino. It’s a joyous event for many Southern Californians.
“Time for Beanie” was one of the pioneer TV shows in Los Angeles and later was syndicated in other parts of the nation. It developed a large and sometimes fanatical following here.
I recall hearing from Lana Turner that she and her then husband Bob Topping would allow nothing to interfere with their watching of “Beanie.” Lionel Barrymore was an enthusiastic viewer. Groucho Marx wrote a fan letter to producer Bob Clampett.
“Time for Beanie” went on KTLA in 1948, began as a series in 1949. The stringless puppets, made a hit in those pioneering days with their literate humor and boundless imagination. Most of us adult fans thought it was much too good for kids.
The show lasted eight years. Then Clampett decided to call a halt.
“My Eastern distributor said that the dam was about to break,” he explained. “The film companies were going to flood the market with Bugs Bunnies and Popeyes, etc. We couldn’t hope to compete with cartoons that had cost $30,000-$40,000 to make.”
Clampett ended the five-day weekly grind and spent a year doing the things he had wanted to do during the eight arduous years. But he wasn’t ready to give up on Beanie and Cece. He bought up all rights to the characters and started working up a backlog of stories.
“I still wanted to do the series as puppets,” said Clampett, a tall-brush-haired man with quiet voice. “But all the Eastern people told me puppets were out. Animation was in.”
The producer adapted. He made a deal with United Artists for releasing the Beanies as theater shorts abroad. A toy manufacturer signed up as TV sponsor, planning a direct pitch for toys based on the show’s characters. ABC scheduled the show for 7 p.m. EST Saturdays. (Monday nights in Los Angeles.)
I can report to the aging members of the local fan club that Beanie and Cece are as ingenuous as ever in animated form, and Dishonest John is just as outrageous with his puns and nefarious deeds.
“Animation gives us more scope for the adventures,” Clampett observed, “but we also lose a human quality that we had in puppets. I still think there is room for a puppet show on TV.”

The ‘Matty’s Funnies’ name was dropped fairly quickly and the show was known by the names of the lead characters.

There was always something odd about Beany and Cecil. Beany rarely had any variation in expression. Captain whatever-his-name-was had no real personality and seemingly existed to read strained puns that appeared on the screen. Really warped things used to be inflicted on Cecil (not unlike Clampett’s Bugs in ‘Falling Hare’). And then there’s the woman mentioned above: So What (a name reworked from another Clampett Warners cartoon).

At times, Clampett couldn’t resist following the path of self-indulgence blazed by the 1950s UPA studio (full of designs made only to please the designer) and Chuck Jones (who made cartoons for himself). The audience sometimes was a secondary consideration. In a gag that went over every kid viewer’s head, So fixes a black wig in place, her body shape inexplicably morphs and she starts rubbing her nose and scratching her butt as “Squeely Smith.” Later in the scene, she’s suddenly back to normal with no explanation.

On the other hand, Clampett’s writers could pull some brilliant stuff. In this cartoon, Clampett repeats his ‘An Itch in Time’ routine at Warners (perfected by Tex Avery) where he stopped the picture for a comment to the audience. Dishonest John is being painfully zapped with electricity, except for a moment when he asks viewers in an aside “Do you think there’s too much violence on television?” Jay Ward’s characters tossed off contemporary show biz cracks like that all the time and they always work because the audience is in on the joke.

Beany and Cecil was a cartoon series that was inconsistent and unpredictable but still worth watching. You can probably say the same thing about its creator.