The Corny Woodpecker

Some cartoon directors loved having stuff come toward, and then away from, the camera. Bob McKimson did it at the beginning of his directorial career. So did both directors at the Lantz studio in the ‘40s. The effect probably looks a lot better on a movie screen than it does on TV. It works better in some cartoons than others. Many of McKimson’s attempts seem too contrived, like he had to do it whether it suited the action.

Over at the Lantz studio, both Shamus Culhane and Dick Lundy occasionally tossed in perspective shots like that in their cartoons. Culhane’s “The Dippy Diplomat” (1945) is an example.

Woody spots food in the Walrus back yard through a knot hole in a fence.





He reaches through and steals a cob of corn. He goes for another. Wally moves the plate of corn away. And it sweeps toward the camera as he does it. Two frames for each drawing.







Pat Matthews and Grim Natwick get the on-screen animation credits. Thad Komorowski tells me that Matthews did the Woody scene while he thinks Les Kline did the corn part.

Tex? Tash? I Got Jobs

By 1936, the Leon Schlesinger cartoon studio was rising from primordial ooze after a couple of years of poor directors and fair to lousy cartoons. It had some new starring characters it was testing. It had at least one director, Friz Freleng, who knew what he was doing and Leon was on the hunt for more. He changed animated humour for good with the men he picked.

The Film Daily reported on the activities of the Schlesinger studio in its editions of 1936. I’ve gone through them all to pick out most of the highlights. Anyone interested in the what-happened-when aspect of the Schlesinger studio can get an idea of the timeline from these stories. Even people familiar with the studio may be surprised by some of the things here.

January 13, 1936
LEON SCHLESINGER, producer of "Merrie Melodies" and "Looney Tunes," has added a new unit of 25 animators, increasing personnel to 100 people. The new unit is under the supervision of Fred Avery. Eleven cartoon subjects are now in production.

Ray Katz, assistant to Leon Schlesinger, and Mrs. Katz, formerly Johanna Salzenstein of Peoria, Ill., who were married at the Schlesinger's Beverly Hills home, have returned from a honeymoon trip to Palm Springs.

January 15, 1936
LEON SCHLESINGER, under his new three-year contract with Warners, will make annually 13-three-color Technicolor "Merrie Melodies" and 13 "Looney Tunes" in black and white.

February 4, 1936
Schlesinger Introducing Modernistic Line Cartoon
West Coast Bureau of THE FILM DAILY
Hollywood — Leon Schlesinger's next "Merrie Melody" cartoon for Warners, entitled "Miss Glory", will introduce an innovation in that the caricatured backgrounds will be entirely modernistic in line, achieved through an airbrush process. The idea was developed by Leadore Congdon, Chicago artist. Another highlight of the picture, which is in three-point Technicolor and was five months in production, is a typical Busby Berkeley dance sequence revealed for the first time in cartoon animation. A male chorus of 16 voices provides musical arrangement of the song "Page Miss Glory."

April 28, 1936
SCHLESINGER BOOSTS SHORTS LINEUP TO 34
West Coast Bureau of THE FILM DAILY
Hollywood—As a result of a deal negotiated with Norman H. Moray, Vitaphone short subject sales manager, Leon Schlesinger is boosting his 1936-37 cartoon program to 34 subjects, including 18 "Merrie Melodies" and 16 "Looney Tunes", compared with 13 of each in previous seasons. Jack L. Warner has approved plans for the reconstruction of a building which will house all the Schlesinger activities under one roof. Addition of 25 animators to the Schlesinger staff brings the total payroll up to 125.

April 29, 1936
Norman Spencer, composer and director of music for the "Looney Tunes" and "Merrie Melodies" cartoons being produced by Leon Schlesinger, has signed a new three-year contract. His son, Norman, Jr., handles the musical arrangements for the series.

June 24, 1936
Leon Schlesinger's organization is believed to have established a speed record in the making of cartoons. Working day and night, his staff made two "Merrie Melodies" and two "Looney Tunes" in two weeks. The subjects were rushed to the Warner Bros. conventions in Chicago and New York.

August 3, 1936
Carl W. Stallings has been made musical director on the Merrie Melody and Looney Tune cartoons produced by Leon Schlesinger for Warners. He succeeds Norman Spencer, resigned.

August 31, 1936
Leon Schlesinger has signed Frank Tash, former comedy strip artist, to a new five-year contract after spotting the artist's first directorial efforts in "Pokey's Poultry Plant," new Looney Tunes. Short also features the initial work of Karl W. Stallings as musical director.

September 19, 1936
Schlesinger on New Lineup
Hollywood—Leon Schlesinger has started production on the first of his 1936-1937 program for Warner release. A Merry Melodies subject, titled "Boulevardier From the Bronx", and a Looney Tune called "Milk and Money", are in production.

September 30, 1936
In order to make theaters in time for the world series, Leon Schlesinger is rushing "Boulevardier from the Bronx," a Merry Melodies subject, to New York. The cartoon is a satire on baseball.

October 6, 1936
LEON SCHLESINGER has signed I. Freleng to a new contract. Freleng, who is directing the "Merrie Melodies" cartoons, has been with Schlesinger for the past three years.

October 26, 1936
LEON SCHLESINGER, producer of "Looney Tunes," and "Merrie Melodies," entertained at his Beverly Hills home in honor of Frank Tashlin ("Tish Tash") and his bride, Dorothy Marguerite Hill. Miss Hill, who sings on the Shell Chateau program, met Tashlin when she applied for an audition.

November 25, 1936
Schlesinger Drops Deal for New Novelty Series
West Coast Bureau of THE FILM DAILY
Hollywood — The deal whereby Leon Schlesinger was to have produced a series of novelty shorts for M-G-M has been dropped. Schlesinger will concentrate on his "Merrie Melodies" and "Looney Tunes" cartoons.

December 18, 1936
WHO'S WHO IN HOLLYWOOD
LEON SCHLESINGER. Producer of "Merrie Melodie" and "Looney Tunes" cartoons for Warner Brothers and a veteran of well nigh every branch of show business! First contact with theater was as usher at Blaney's Arch St. Theater, Philadelphia, and thence into its box-office. Next at the old Colonial, Chicago, as treasurer, with later years as p.a. and manager for road shows and vaude. First film post was with old Metro Company as salesman out of Chicago. Subsequent affiliations: Inter-Ocean Film Corp., New York; Agfa Film as West Coast sales manager; Pacific Title and Art Studio, which he founded. Then, back in '30, Jack Warner suggested he make a cartoon, with 30-day option for 12 more. It took Warner seven minutes after he saw the first to exercise it. Now has a straight three-year Warner pact.

Some observations...

The Avery story is a little unexpected. Tex told Mike Barrier he thought he arrived at Schlesinger’s around May 1935. At any rate, his first cartoon, “Gold Diggers of ‘49,” was in theatres by November 27, 1935. “Plane Dippy” was next in the production line, followed by “Page Miss Glory” which, according to the clippings, went into production in September 1935. So Avery’s unit (part of which was caricatured in “Glory”) was in operation before the 1936 Film Daily story. Either Leon formalised the existing unit or he added to it.

Evidently Leon had high hopes for Art Deco-styled cartoons but “Page Miss Glory” was it. Avery hated it. He told historian Joe Adamson “I think I was forced to make it.” And Miss (Mrs.?) Congdon remains a Warners mystery.

Chuck Jones used to moan that Leon never associated with the staff but evidently Schlesinger thought highly enough of Tashlin to host him and his bride at the Schlesinger home. If you want to wash the vile taste of Jones bias out of your mouth, read Martha Sigall’s book, which paints a different picture of Leon than the one Chuck spouted to anyone who would listen for years.

Leon fashioned himself as somewhat of a minor film mogul. He produced films with John Wayne in the early ‘30s and had at least one other series of shorts involving organ melodies. So it shouldn’t be a surprise to see he was working on the idea of novelty shorts. What’s interesting is he took the proposal to Metro. Perhaps MGM was looking for another series. Whether they were live action, animated or a combination isn’t clear.

It’s startling to see that Schlesinger signed Norm Spencer to a renewal, only to hire Carl Stalling to replace him a few months later. It could be Spencer left on his own volition. Anyway, it was another stroke of genius by Schlesinger to bring into his fold the man who defined cartoon music. And if anyone still believes Mel Blanc’s story that he only got hired at Warners after Spencer dropped dead, this should put an end to it. (Anyone who has followed Mel’s tales in chronological order knows that the “death” part of the story was a comparatively late, and contradictory, addition). It also settles something I’ve wondered about the pre-Stalling scores. Spencer and Bernie Brown’s music sounds pretty similar. That would make sense, given that Spencer, Jr. was arranging all the scores. I’d be interested to know who Stalling brought in before Milt Franklyn arrived in the late ‘30s.

Conversely, there’s no mention at all of Jack King returning to Disney. Tashlin took his spot as a director.

Unfortunately, there is nothing in Film Daily for the second half of 1935 to reveal staff changes at the studio. And no copies of the publication exist on line for the first half of 1935 or after 1936. The studio still had changes to go through; Bob Clampett and Chuck Jones would be directing within a couple of years and Friz Freleng would have a short career at MGM. But the pieces were starting to fall into place. The studio finally had a starring character in 1936 in the person of Porky Pig. Their biggest stars were only a few more years away.

Bill Anderson is Batman

Batman comes from Walla Walla, Washington.

We’re talking about the guy who played him, not some story line in the comics. Of course, there’s really only one actor who was Batman, and that’s Adam West. (You didn’t think I’d say Val Kilmer, did you?)

Much like Batman had his real identity of Bruce Wayne, Adam West has a real identity, too. He is Bill Anderson to Walla Wallans (Walla Wallanians? Walla Wallites?).

If you weren’t around when the TV show first aired, you may not have an idea of its impact. It was on two nights in a row. Thursday morning, everyone in class—I was in Grade 4 at the time—would excitedly discuss the previous night’s show and what might happen tonight. I pulled for the unhinged villains. Who doesn’t love Cesar Romero? Or Burgess Meredith quacking away? Frank Gorshin’s unique cadence as the Riddler left the impression he wasn’t all there. And there was just something evilly creepy about Liberace as Chandell (some say there’s something evilly creepy about Liberace, period).

But the show started falling apart. Villains got boring (The Archer? Milton Berle?). I genuinely got annoyed when puns got too obvious or if Batman suddenly got out a suspenseful jam just by using his utility belt (“I could come up with that, and I’m 10,” I’d grumble to myself. Honestly). Regardless, the show is a classic. And Adam West has a whole new fan base, thanks to “Family Guy.”

Like almost anyone who shot to fame overnight, West had been working steadily before “Batman.” 1959 was his most maddening year. Let Mike Connolly’s “Mr. Hollywood” column of August 18 tell you what happened.

Chicagoan Bob Conrad got his big break as star of Warner-TV’s new Hawaiian Eye series when the studio decided not to use Adam West in the series, after first assigning West to the role. That happened because West had already starred in the title role of the pilot film for a projected Warner Western series called Doc Holliday. First the Warners decided to scrap ol’ Doc then they decided to hold it till next January and try to peddle it to the Madison Avenue boys then. That's when West got the word to “sit out” all summer. And that’s when Conrad captured the coveted role of the Waikiki sluefoot. And now Fox-TV is trying to borrow West from the Warners for its new Formula for Adventure series but West’s Warner contract is ironclad and the lad is benched till the ad agencies’ collective stethoscope decides on the fate of Doc Holliday!

TV buried Doc on the lone prairie before he even got a chance to fire a six-shooter. But the durable West recovered, though he didn’t seem all that pleased about it. Here’s a syndicated column from February 18, 1962 that appeared in the Hayward Daily Review.

‘Detectives’ Actor
He Wants To Earn Title
By HANK GRANT
HOLLYWOOD—When it was decided early last summer to expand Robert Taylor’s “Detectives” to an hour series, a new detective was added to the cast — Adam West, who previously had been seen on sporadic featured roles on “77 Sunset Strip,” “Sugarfoot,” “Perry Mason” and “Rifleman,” among many other series.
A healthy fan-mail count already attests to the fact that Adam is in a proverbial Garden of Eden, after on-again-off-again voles, co-starring along with Goddard and Tige Andrews just under Taylor's top billing in a steady series.
But, though he loves his series and worships Taylor (“I’m learning so much from watching him”), Adam, admittedly an impatient man himself, paradoxically is annoyed at the method of grooming stars for TV.
“I want to be a star—tomorrow, if not sooner,” he says, “yet I'm rather dismayed about how little the word ‘star’ means today. There (pointing at Robert Taylor) is a STAR, but how many of them are there like him who worked for years in pictures before they became worthy of the star appellation?
“TV has abused the star title to the point where it means less than nothing. An unknown, like myself, can be cast in a series, and—presto!—he is given a star billing. Just read the credits on any TV show, or even a big motion picture, and you’ll have two or three stars, a guest star and even a special guest star two, then comes a long line of co-stars. Whatever became of featured players?
“Me, I’m impatient. I want to be a star in the worst way, but not till I’ve proved myself as an actor deserving of the title. I’d like to have achieved recognition for fine performances in a variety of roles, from sea captain to priest, before they pin a star on me. In fact, it wouldn't be a bad idea if they didn’t allow anyone to be billed as a star until he’d gotten recognition first with an Oscar Award or an Emmy Award.
“It seems kind of silly, being a star just because a producer decides you’re one. In some cases, the actors decide it for themselves. Playing on a football team doesn’t mean you’re the star of the team—your performance decides that. And, when you’re voted All-America or All-Pro, man, that’s being a star!”
Adam’s impatience with the fact he is being considered a star after just two short years of acting work in Hollywood was noted also in his student days. Not satisfied with a variety of courses at the University of California in Santa Barbara, he switched to the University of Washington, then to College of Puget Sound, and finally received his degree at Whitman College. But the degree still left him feeling a lack of achievement, so he moved to Stanford University for postgraduate work in journalism and the theatre.
Following a hitch in the Army, he went to Hawaii where for four years he doubled as performer and director of the local CBS radio and TV station. It was there he met and married a lovely dancer, Ngarua Frisbie, daughter of novelist Robert: Dean Frisbie and a Polynesian princess named Ngatokorus-A-Malaa.
Ngarua is as patient and calm as Adam is impatient and storming. She, he admits has done much to curb his restless drive toward perfection.
For Adam, perfection comes with self-gratification, after a job well done. Without this feeling, rightly or wrongly, he doesn’t want to continue as an actor.
“I’m giving myself five years in Hollywood," he says. “If, after that time, I don’t believe I’ve earned the right to be called a star—even if others say I am—Ngarua and I will go somewhere else, maybe even to the South Sea Islands, and start all over again.”
To this, Ngarua smiled sweetly and said nothing. It was evident to her that Adam was a star from the moment they met.

The Walla Walla Union-Bulletin had a few stories about its native son. Here’s one from November 21, 1965. Remarkably, it seems West almost missed out on his biggest role.

IN HOLLYWOOD
Adam West Steps Into TV Series is ‘Batman’
Don’t look now but Walla Walla's Bill Anderson, better known professionally as Adam West, is star of a new ABC-TV series called “Batman.”
The Whitman graduate and former Walla Walla Little Theater performer is busy preparing a series of episodes about this high-soaring hero at the 20th Century-Fox Studios in Hollywood. The series will debut on Jan. 12 on the ABC-TV network and will be seen each Wednesday and Thursday evening in the 7:30 time slot.
“It’s a show which is basically designed for the young in heart but I imagine these ‘youngsters’ will run in age from 6 to 60,” says West, who explains that the plots are purely adult, often with tongue-in-cheek story lines.
Faced by Decision
Taking on the assignment as “Batman” was a problem to West, who has just returned from Italy where he starred in a successful western drama titled “The Inexorable Four” and was asked by the PEA Production Company to appear in three more of their planned films.
Shortly after his return to Hollywood, he was approached by 20th Century for “Batman” and West won the coveted role over several dozen well known actors in filmland.
Hardly had the ink dried on his contract when he was cabled from Rome to hop the first jet and take over the starring role in “Matchless,” to be filmed in Spain with several of Italy’s top players.
West had to come down from the “Batman” skies long enough to send a cable of regret. PEA replied that they would postpone the film until West was available, so it has been placed on his summer vacation schedule.
Here in Early Fall
West, or Anderson, was in Walla Walla briefly earlier in the fall to visit his father, Otto Anderson, and brother, John Anderson, Waitsburg ranchers. He had just returned from Europe at that time.
West’s career as an actor has been active ever since he was first placed under contract by Warner Bros., after he had established a name for himself as a radio and TV director-performer in Hawaii.
Well-known motion picture agent Lew Sherrell saw him in a legitimate stage production of “Picnic” in Honolulu and went backstage to sign him to a personal contract. Sherrell has guided West’s activities since.
The actor made his film debut in “Colt 45” and worked steadily for the next year in such teleseries as “77 Sunset Strip,” “Sugarfoot,” “Lawman,” “Maverick” and many others.
In between, he sliced a top role in the movie, “The Young Philadelphians.”
In TV Shows
Upon his release from the Warner contract, he went into such top TV shows as “Perry Mason,” “Overland Trail,” “Michael Shayne,” “Bonanza,” “Alcoa Theater,” "Rifleman,” “Beachcombers” and “Geronimo.”
Desi Arnaz liked his work so much that he signed him to do “Johnny Cinderella,” which was followed by the lead in “Rio.” Then came the break all young actors cherish — West was tested for the romantic Sgt. Steve Nelson in “The Detectives” series with Robert Taylor, and he was given the role.
Following this, he was in “Tammy and the Doctor,” with Sandra Dee and “Soldiers in the Rain,” both motion pictures. On TV he was paged for “Petticoat Junction," "Outer Limits,” “Bewitched” and “The Virginians.”
Seen in Movies
Among his recent movie credits are starring roles in “Robinson Crusoe on Mars,” a science-fiction thriller, “Alexander the Great,” a comedy called “The Outlaws Is Coming” and “Mara of the Wilderness.”
Formerly married to Ngarua Frisbee, a Polynesian princess whom he met in Honolulu, he is now divorced which makes him one of Hollywood's most eligible bachelors. He lives at the beach at Malibu in an old Mediterranean-type villa where he gets away from his “Batman” characterization by painting, sailing, writing, water skiing and scuba diving.

So what did fans of the Batman comic books think of the TV show? One reporter decided to find out. I haven’t found a copy of the column that has a byline, so all I can tell you is it appeared in papers starting February 4, 1967. I’ll bet this is the same Bruce Roberts who wrote the liner notes for that smash Liberty record album “Jan and Dean Meet Batman” (1966).

Holy Comic Books! It's a Superbatfan
What has 6,000 comic books stored in a closet, can elaborate on Robin’s parentage at the bat of an eye, and never misses an episode of ABC-TV’s “Batman?”
A Superbatfan — what else?
Bruce Roberts, a 24-year-old computer operator from Gardena, Calif., has earned that appellation outstandingly. His extensive knowledge of everything pertaining to the Caped Crusader and his youthful aide amazed, even Adam West (not easily astoundable) on a recent visit to the “Batman” set.
“I’ve collected comic books all my life,” he explained to West, “but I only took it up seriously about five years ago.”
With that he handed West the 1931 “Detective Comics No. 27”—the public’s introduction to Batman. Adam took it with interest and flipped the first page.
“It’s worth $200,” Roberts commented proudly.
West turned the next page slowly, with added respect.
Then he looked through “Detective Comics No. 88,” which introduced Robin and is worth a trifling $75, and “Batman No. 1” (1940) in which the Dynamic Duo branched out on their own.
“I have a complete set of the first 30 “Batman” issues which are worth abont $1000,” Roberts continued. By now, Adam West was transfixed.
As the circle of bystanders silently kicked themselves for having cleaned out their attics, someone asked, “How did all this interest get started?”
“Well, Batman sets an example of physical and mental perfection — he’s a very realistic hero,” Roberts explained.
“He could be harmed, whereas Superman and the others couldn’t be. Superheroes have always appealed to me because the world might be a much better place with a few of them around, don't you think?”
While that significant syncrisis sank into the silent circle, he continued. “In 1954 the Comics Code of Authority ended what I consider to be the Golden Age of comic books. Superheroes are kind of goody goody these days. They can’t even knock a door down, much less wreck a city.”
West asked: “How does the ‘Batman’ series compare with the comics in your opinion?”
“The comic version is not as square as the TV version, but then the series is strictly for laughs. I would resent it if you made absolute fools of Batman and Robin, but that’s not the case.”
With that verdict, it was West’s turn to show his visitor something he had never seen before — an original drawing by Batman's creator. On the wall of the actor’s dressing room is a striking sketch of the Caped Crusader bearing the inscription: “To Adam West, who breathed life into my pen and ink creation. My thanks—Bob Kane.”

West’s Batman was always a very earnest man, not a self-pitying, brooding guy wearing an insecurity-compensating muscle-suit, bathed in black shadows that choke the screen. To the that concept, I say POW! BOFF! EEE-OWW!! I’ll take the fun Batman from Walla Walla instead.

They Keep Killing Bob Denver

The internet’s a great way to spread information. The wrong information.

Twitter went nuts within the last day with the forlorn tidings that Bob Denver had passed away, quoting something from the MSNBC web site. Only thing is, the obituary is from 2005. Some obviously wasn’t reading too carefully and just simply posted a quicky line on Twitter he was dead, and others instantly re-tweeted, blindly accepting anything they see on Twitter as accurate.

Of course, to blame modern technology on misinformation would be, well, misinformation. As proof, and in honour of the Twitter foul-up, here’s a story from the Salt Lake Tribune from June 15, 1961, when Bob Denver first died.

Bob Denver Wonders Who Is Killing Him Off
By Richard O. Martin
“I can say unequivocally, ‘Bob Denver is not dead,’” says Bob Denver unequivocally.
Mr. Denver, of course, is the young actor who stars as beatnik Maynard G. Krebs in the Dobie Gillis series.
The reason Mr. Denver makes such an unequivocal statement is that since last January he has been reported dead more than 36 times in more than 30 states—including Utah.
“At first it was spooky,” he says. “Then it seemed like a gag. When it kept up, it made me somewhat angry.
“Now, well, I’m still angry. I know it’s no gag. And it isn’t spooky. It’s frightening,” he says.
THE REPORTS of his death generally come when someone calls a newspaper and asks: “Is it true Bob Denver is dead?”
In fact, several of these calls have come to The Tribune over the past five months. And Salt Lake City has been reported among the places where Mr. Denver met his demise, along with being shot down in a New York gun battle or killed in a Montana auto crash.
“Fortunately,” says Mr. Denver, “these tips aren’t true.”
THE REPORT of Mr. Denver’s death most widely circulated is that he was electrocuted while taking a bath when a radio fell into the water.
“I don’t know how it all started, who’s doing it or where it comes from,” he says. “I just know I wish it would stop. I'm going broke.”
The drain on Mr. Denver’s pocketbook comes from the fact that at each report of his “death,” he is forced to get on the long distance telephone to assure his relatives in the East he is still kicking.

Bob Denver is remarkable in that he was immensely popular on a TV series, then did a second series and was even more popular. Maynard Krebs on “Dobie Gillis” is almost a footnote compared to his starring role on “Gilligan’s Island.” People loved the show because it was completely unassuming. The characters were basic and you could laugh with and at them. Therefore, people accepted the ridiculous situation they saw on the screen every week. Mind you, it was an era where viewers bought talking horses, mother-cars, witch-wives, Martian roommates and sexy genies. Here’s a story from the National Enterprise Association that appeared in papers starting January 6, 1966.

Bob Is A Nut And He Always Will Be One
By DICK KLEINER
Hollywood Correspondent
Newspaper Enterprise Assn.
Bob Denver has renewed his license — the one that comes with being an actor. And that is the license to be nutty.
He thinks that is one of the greatest advantages of his career. People, he says, will accept nuttiness and non-conformism from actors, where they almost expect it and are disappointed
if a little nuttiness isn’t forthcoming.
And Bob Denver, the hero of CBS’ Gilligan's Island, is a bit on the nonconforming side to start with. So it isn’t hard for him to give the public what it wants in the way of nuttiness.
“Most of the time now,” he says, “I wear western clothes. Even to parties.”
He has a beautiful new deerskin shirt and he wears it almost everywhere, accompanied by boots and blue denims. He says everybody wants to know where he got the shirt (at a western store in Santa Monica) and feels it admiringly.
Another nutty thing. One Friday day he and his wife thought that it would be kind of fun to go to Hawaii for the weekend. So they went to Hawaii for the weekend. They left Saturday morning and they were back Sunday night.
Bob Denver is like that. He admits that he and money have only a passing acquaintance.
“With me,” he says, “it isn’t easy come, easy go. It’s hard come, easy go. My business manager has given up on me. He knows I'm hopeless.”
Besides things like weekend trips to Hawaii, Bob just bought a new house. It wasn’t the house itself which was so expensive—although no house around Los Angeles is cheap — but the Denvers did it all over.
“We should have waited,” Bob says, “but we didn’t want to. So we didn’t.”
The house is in Topanga Canyon, not far from Malibu. It sits in a two-acre oak grove and this is pretty wild country. It's only a 35-minute drive Studio City, where Gilligan’s Island is shot, but it could be 1,000 miles or a century in time away.
“I can walk up above my house,” Bob says, “and look down into Santa Ynez Canyon and there’s nothing and nobody — just a bunch of hawks flying around.
“One night I woke up and I heard a weird screaming, threw on my pants and went outside and I saw this cougar walking across our property. He was screaming, trying to something to run so he could chase it down. My two dogs just watched and scratched — they weren’t about to go there.”
Bob likes to go camping with his kids, and he likes to ride — he owns a horse which he keeps in a nearby pasture.
Happily, he can afford to indulge himself in these things. Gilligan’s Island rolls along merrily and so does Bob Denver. He has his choice of two motion pictures to do during the show’s coming vacation period. And then it’s back for another year, at least, with the other marooned islanders.
So the criticism which been heaped on the show—only the public seems to like it—doesn’t really bother him.
“Some man,” Denver says, “came up to me and said, ‘That’s a ridiculous show.’ I said, “I’m glad you like it. Sure it’s ridiculous — it’s meant to be ridiculous and silly.”
So Bob Denver laughs all the way to Hawaii — for the weekend.

I’m not sure what Bob thought about Kleiner’s column. I’m still waiting for him to tweet me about it.

Run Over By a Streetcar

“And if that ain’t the truth, I hope—I hope I get run over by a streetcar!” says the wolf to a sceptical jury of wolves (and one skunk) in “The Trial of Mr. Wolf.” And that’s what happens.
It’s a gag used a couple of times in cartoons but you’ve got to admire Friz Freleng’s pacing here. No sooner does the wolf say his line than the streetcar roars over him. It takes less than a second (24 frames).
Here’s one foot (16 frames) of action, all on ones.


















Dick Bickenbach is the credited animator. I can’t tell you who was handling layouts for Friz at the time (1941).

Cartoon Ads, 1936

The Film Daily gave an awful lot of coverage to short films, cartoons included, in the 1930s. Its pages contained blurbs about the studios, lots of reviews of cartoons and, of course, advertising.

Virtually the whole run of the publication through the silent era is available on archive.org but Mr. Scrappyland, Harry McCracken, alerted me to editions from the early sound era, with a good portion of the editions up to the end of 1936 available. They’re invaluable for researchers. Unlike Boxoffice, which has much of its archives on-line, The Film Daily is searchable. And the scans are pretty good, not murky like the ones at the vault at Boxoffice. Want to know when Tex Avery arrived at Leon Schlesinger? When Carlo Vinci left Van Beuren? Who produced the Bonzo series? It’s all there.

The ads are stunning. Many are in full, vibrant colour. And the ones for cartoons feature studio artwork so the characters look like the characters. I’m going to post some from 1936. The worst that can be said is some of the pages are yellowed and the gutter gets in the way so part of the image isn’t there.

The Popeye and Fleischer studios ads were part of an 11-pager by Paramount. Surprisingly, Warners forked out a two-pager for the short “Let it Be Me”—complete with credits.

You can click on any of them to make them larger.















The ads for 1929-30 are interesting. It can’t be under-estimated how Mickey Mouse created a huge demand for sound cartoons and studios started gearing up to make them. We’ll try to post some of those in the not-too-distant future.

What is Offensive Comedy?

Everything in this world offends someone, somewhere. So where should the line be drawn to determine what humour is legitimately offensive?

There probably isn’t an answer to that question any more. But, years ago, Jack Benny had one. He felt common sense should prevail. Maybe it was possible in 1961 when he was interviewed by the National Enterprise Association but far more people today are quick to take umbrage and demand instant mollification.

I’ll simply post Jack’s comments and let you decide for yourself how much, if anything, has changed since this interview.

PERENNIAL JACK BENNY IS VENDOR OF GOOD TASTE
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
Hollywood Correspondent Newspaper Enterprise Assn.
HOLLYWOOD (NEA)—Jack Benny has a vault full of money, shelves loaded with trophies and awards, a record of 29 years on the air—he’s now approaching conclusion of his 11th season on television—and a head full of enthusiasm.
“Next to Bob Hope I’m the biggest ham around,” he laughed to us the other day. “I’m relaxed only when I'm working.”
Seldom topical, never faddish, Jack Benny’s humor always seems to be in style and the years wear as well on his scripts as they do on Jack himself.
THERE’S NO BIG SECRET about it, he admits.
“It’s good taste—good taste is the most important single ingredient.
“Shook value comedy—they call it ‘sick’ comedy today—may make people sit up and take notice at first, but it quickly wears thin.
“Good warm humor, without abuse and in good taste—the ability to laugh at yourself—this can win friends and affection even for a minority group, whether it’s political, religious, racial or some other type of minority.”
THAT GOOD TASTE couldn’t have a better frame than Jack’s show and he’s justly proud when he says:
“Rochester has played my butler for many years but the NAACP has never protested our showing a Negro as a servant. We always let Rochester come out the victor, showing me up as a stupid jerk.
“My home hasn’t been bombed because Dennis Day, an Irishman, is depicted as a silly kid. We don’t get letters from fat people because I always insult Don Wilson.
“Any intelligent person who himself belongs to a minority group is aware of the risk of offending. But it is a shame that people who are capable of handling any situation in good taste, with an understanding of the problems involved, are prohibited from certain types of comedy because others abuse the unwritten rules of common sense.”
Benny pointed out that these restrictions on comedy apply not only to ethnic groups. You seldom see stuttering comedians any more because stutterers in the audience are offended and may not buy the sponsor’s product.
“Unless you’re a Jimmy Durante or a Danny Thomas you don't make jokes about big noses,” he points out, too.
DESPITE THE LIMITATIONS it imposes Benny favors the elimination of any joke, gag or sequence which, within bounds of reason, may offend.
“Let’s face it,” he says, “we’re living in an age when millions of human beings who were villified in concentration camps are trying to establish their right to a decent life. People of one color want the right to use the same railroad station waiting room as people of another color. The world is watching. We must be careful.
“There are enough basic concepts in life to poke fun at. Funny things happen to all of us all the time. The comedian or comedy writer must be alert to these, remember them, and then invent variations on them. If a gag is hurtful, I don’t need it.”
Jack's lucky, of course. The Benny character — stingy, picayunish, vain with no real reason for vanity, intolerant of Rochester and insulting to his announcer, Don Wilson—is familiar to all. He’s milked each gag on the character for more years than most comedians can milk an entire career.

The Stillborn Cartoon Studios

Theatrical cartoon shorts flourished on the West Coast for about three decades. Walt Disney was the leading animation studio, of course, but Warner Bros. (né Leon Schlesinger) arguably had the most popular characters. MGM garnered piles of Oscars. Walter Lantz can be considered an ‘A’ lister, thanks to Woody Woodpecker and lots of TV exposure starting in the late ‘50s.

Then there were places like Ub Iwerks, who petered out in the ‘30s. The Harman-Ising studio got fired by both Schlesinger and MGM in the same decade. And the Mintz studio went through a takeover followed by a revolving door of Columbia management turmoil until it died in the late ‘40s, the front office deciding to contract its cartoons from UPA.

And then there are those that tried to get into game and failed for any number of reasons. One reason was there were only so many studios prepared to release short subjects. Another was the impending war. And perhaps the biggest was it took a while to make any money off cartoons. Unless a company had a thick wallet to begin with (Lantz, for example, shut down for a bit when Universal refused to advance him money) the future couldn’t possibly be bright.

Bob Stokes was one who tried. Stokes had worked for Harman-Ising, Ub Iwerks and Walt Disney but decided in 1940 the time was ripe to make his own theatrical cartoons. Boxoffice magazine of September 14, 1940 contains the following:

STOKES-EDMONDS PRODUCTIONS files incorporation papers and announces plans to produce a series of one-reel Technicolor cartoons starring a semi-human five-year-old girl, “Sassy Sis.” Bob Stokes, former Walt Disney employe, as president, Paul Edmonds, at one time an agent and personal business representative for Boris Morros Productions, is vice-president and treasurer. Herbert T. Silverberg is corporation counsel. Schedule calls for production of 13 one-reelers during the coming year for a major release now being negotiated.

A similar story was contained in the Motion Picture Herald, with a mention that the George R. Bilson office would handle press relations. Stokes-Edmonds got a copyright on Sassy Sis on December 11, 1940. The U.S. Government copyright catalogue lists it under paintings or designs for works of art; presumably the company copyrighted some model sheets. And they went hunting for a voice for Sis. Louella Parsons revealed who it was in her column of September 11, 1940:

If the offers made Shirley Temple were put end to end they would reach to New York and back. The latest and one of the most interesting is made her by Bob Stokes and Paul Edmonds to merely lend her voice to the cartoon character of “Sassy Sis.” In the event the offer is accepted Stokes, who was formerly key man at the Walt Disney studios, says that Shirley, who is now at the awkward age, would keep her contact with the public and not be seen until she is a little older. The character of “Sassy Sis.” is a five-year-old girl who will appear in a series of 13 cartoons made in color. Shirley’s voice is of course known to millions.

But that’s where the trail ends. What happened to his company? What happened to Stokes? Someone out there likely knows. About all I can tell you is during the war, he served with the Photographic Science Lab, Art & Animation Division, USMAS Anacostia. He died in Riverside, California on February 17, 1980, age 71.

Most of the sizeable studios in the late ‘30s-early ‘40s had animation deals wrapped up. The biggest exception was United Artists, which had been distributing Disney cartoons for three years until 1937 and then avoided animation until signing a deal with the Sutherland-Moray studio in 1944 for a stop-motion series. But it wasn’t through a lack of trying.

Walter Winchell’s column reported on May 19, 1937 that U.A. was working on a deal. Then Boxoffice magazine reported on June 19 under the headline “36 on United Artist List With 18 ‘Skippy’ Shorts”:

To replace the Walt Disney short subjects, which will be released by RKO, UA will have 18 “Skippy” cartoons in Technicolor, based on the familiar cartoon strip by Percy Crosby, which Crosby will produce in Hollywood. The Skippys will be released starting August 15, the start of UA’s selling season.

Boxoffice of July 3, 1937 added:

THE FIRST “SKIPPY” UA SUBJECT READY
NEW YORK—“The Dog Catcher,” first of nine animated subjects in Technicolor based on Percy Crosby’s “Skippy” newspaper cartoon strip produced for the United Artists 1937-38 program, has been finished by Mayfair Productions in Hollywood. Norman Stevenson is the general manager of Mayfair and several artists formerly employed by Disney are now working for the new company. The Skippy subjects will be released early in UA’s selling season which starts August 15. The company has five completed Disney cartoons ready for release, with no date set.

“Skippy” may have been the biggest bust in cartoon short history, even more so than Republic’s flirtation with Bob Clampett in the mid-‘40s. United Artists planned to mount a huge push. Our friend Ted Watts points to the book American films in Latin America: The Case History of United Artists Corporation which reveals the following:

Mayfair Productions obtained the franchise to film the cartoons. Crosby had the right of approval and some characters in the first filmed cartoon had to be re-drawn several times before he okayed them. Mayfair was headed by E.C. Simmons, managing director Kenneth McLellan, Norman Stephenson, formerly associated with Disney and by Mr. [Bill] Nolan, the head animator. … The company, with the latest and best mechanical devices, was housed in the UAC Studio and staffed with 4 animators. … [m]any organizations specializing in film animation approached 130 UAC but only Skippy gained its interest. The contract with Mayfair Productions called for the making of 9 films. The negative cost was estimated at no less than $35,000. Additional prints, advertising and other distribution charges were expected to total $60,000.

United Artist’s publicity department talked to its exchanges about a 300 to 400 foot Technicolor trailer, gag advertising stills, and feature stories about Crosby “whom we will build up in the same way we did Walt Disney.” There was even a “Skippy Merchandising Bureau, which is an organization similar to the Kay Kamen Co. handling the Mickey Mouse merchandise.”



The Motion Picture Herald reported the first cartoon was shown to United Artists executives. The National Board of Review magazine that year included a short blurb:

SKIPPY. Percy Crosby’s Skippy, saving the dog from the dog-catcher. Rather different from other cartoons. United Artists.

So what happened?

Boxoffice magazine tells the story on January 15, 1938.

Sell Mayfair Productions Assets at Creditors Meeting All assets, including furniture, materials, supplies, equities and conditional sales contracts of Mayfair Productions, which was organized in early 1937, to produce a series of movie shorts based on the “Skippy” cartoon character, were sold this week at a creditors’ meeting conducted by Benno Brink, referee in bankruptcy. Mayfair held contracts with United Artists for the delivery of two “Skippy” cartoons and had delivered one of them.

Oddly, the one Skippy cartoon was copyright May 9, 1938 by Mayfair Productions, which was supposed to be out of business.

It’d be interesting to learn who else besides Bill Nolan was working for Mayfair. He’s credited with inventing the rubber-hose style of animation in New York in the early ‘20s which was becoming passé toward the end of the ‘30s. Nolan had a parting of the ways with Walter Lantz in 1936.

Oh, to learn the fate of any prints of the cartoon. Unless they’re hiding in a U-A vault somewhere, or Percy Crosby kept a copy and it was passed down to his family, it doesn’t appear any survived. Too bad.

Animation had its A-list and B-list studios and it appears they had at least two that are mere footnotes in cartoon history.

A 2021 UPDATE: Eric Costello has sent along this note on 17 April 2021:

I've actually found an instance where a theater showed one of the United Artists/Mayfair Productions "Skippy" cartoons, the only one that was actually produced, entitled "The Dog Catcher." The Loew's Premier Theater in Brooklyn had it playing on a bill with "The Shopworn Angel" and "Devil's Party" August 25-29, 1938. Which is a bit strange, since this was over a year after the cartoon was produced, and some seven months or so after Mayfair's assets were sold in bankruptcy.

Jerry Beck says a copy exists in the collection of the Library of Congress. So now we know.

A 2024 UPDATE: Devon Baxter says besides Nolan, Emery Hawkins and Dick Bickenbach animated the cartoon, along with another animator whose work looks like a watered-down Jim Tyer.