Cal Went to the Dogs

What do Jonathan Swift, Morey Amsterdam and little people wearing huge dog heads have in common?

The answer is Cal Howard.

Howard had two distinct careers. Animation fans know him for his work at a variety of cartoon studios. He wrote some of the most disjointed animated shorts ever made (Screen Gems, late ‘40s) and some of the worst ones (Walter Lantz cartoons of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s), though it’s likely unfair to entirely blame him for the latter. But Howard was also behind the scenes in network television as it began to blossom in the early ‘50s.

By all accounts, Howard was a pretty funny guy, though you wouldn’t get that impression watching “Bye-Bye Blackboard” (the last Lantz theatrical cartoon). Chuck Jones’ books have some great stories about him—the Cal Howard makeshift commissary, the Cal Howard bar mitvah collection (Howard was a gentile). There’s the story about how Howard took his son’s Cub Scout troop past the MGM cartoon studio and taught them to yell “Quimby is a red-faced jerk!” All pretty funny. And the ideas he generated for the non-animated TV shows he wrote or directed were creative, too.

No doubt biographical information and anecdotes by Howard are hidden away in one of the fine, unpublished interviews Michael Barrier did with many of the people involved in the Golden Age of Animation, but here’s what we can tell you from other sources. Calvin Henry Howard was born in Los Angeles on March 11, 1911 to Samuel L. and Mabel (Coates) Howard. What happened to his parents is unclear, but Cal was living with grandparents by age eight. He attended Lincoln High School and the Los Angeles Times nostalgically reported in 1953 that Howard used to surreptitiously paste cartoons he drew at the side of Ptomaine Tommy’s lunch wagon in the Lincoln Heights district. His Times obituary states he was hired by Walt Disney in 1929. By 1932, he was working for Walter Lantz and seems to have migrated to Leon Schlesinger’s studio around the time Tex Avery, Virgil Ross, Sid Sutherland and Cecil Surry made the jump in 1935.

Schlesinger sub-contracted some cartoons from Ub Iwerks and Howard went over to storyboard and, apparently, voice the character of Gabby Goat. He then co-directed a couple of cartoons with Cal Dalton before bolting with Pinto Colvig in November 1939 to the Max Fleischer studio in Florida where, among other things, he worked on the story of “Gulliver’s Travels” (there is the Jonathan Swift connection). Boxoffice magazine reported on May 17, 1941 that Howard had been hired by Quimby at MGM as a story unit head and gagman, and his first cartoon was the Tom and Jerry cartoon “The Midnight Snack.” How long was he at Metro? Hard to say, as the Hanna-Barbera unit never credited story men (Joe Barbera liked to leave the impression the ideas for the Tom and Jerry shorts were solely from the mind of Joe Barbera). But animator James Tim Walker related once how Howard brought some Christmas cheer to the ladies of the ink and paint department in 1946 and Quimby fired animator Ed Love, thinking he was responsible. I suspect Quimby eventually axed Howard, too (as he did Avery’s writer, Heck Allen, on more than one occasion). Howard wasn’t enamoured of him. Tom Sito’s history of animation unions tells how Howard used to roll down the window when driving past Quimby Street with Bob Kurtz and yell an “F” word at the sign (standing in for the unrelated producer), either in self-amusement or some kind of belated revenge.

The Screen Gems cartoon studio of Columbia Pictures was his next stop and gave him screen credit. But no one seems to have liked the weak cartoons it produced and the studio closed by 1947. Howard tried television cartoons, crafting “Brother Goose” that was part of the original “Telecomics” line-up eventually picked up (without Howard’s effort) by NBC.

Television in 1950 was like an elevator on the ground floor, the door open, waiting for people to get in right away and ride to the top. That’s what Howard did. He couldn’t get employment on the west coast, so he headed east to work on “Broadway Open House” with Morey Amsterdam and Jerry Lester. The Los Angeles Times reported on November 28, 1951 that Howard had come west to talk about producing/directing a new daytime network show starring Ralph Edwards. He was hired and the programme debuted January 14th. It wasn’t a success, so Edwards made a switch. Edwards replaced himself with Johnny Dugan and kept Howard as a producer/director. What was the show like? Edwards liked stunt shows where contestants basically shamed and embarrassed themselves as they were laughed at by the studio audience; he built his career on one such radio show called “Truth or Consequences.” One not-so-demeaning stunt involved blindfolded women throwing a dart at a picture of a steer. Whatever part of the animal it landed on, the woman took home—in real beef. An Associated Press column in 1952 listed some of Howard’s gag accomplishments. The last one sounds familiar from animation, doesn’t it?

HOLLYWOOD
By GENE HANKSAKER
HOLLYWOOD, Sept. 25—Like parlor games? I’ve several dandy ice-breakers here, and they cost a few cents at most. They come from Cal Howard, who lies awake nights thinking up crazy stunts for “The Johnny Dugan Show”, seen five days a week on coast-to-coast NBC-TV.
A stunt on a show I attended went like this: Seat three women in front of a large, shallow, empty cardboard box. Have them take off their shoes and put them in the box.
Blindfold the contestants. Tell ‘em there’s a prize for the one who can put on her own shoes and tie or buckle them first. Then, while everybody’s laughing and before you give the “go” signal, put in a lot of other shoes and mix them all well.
Howard, whose blue eyes have the melancholy look of most professional funnymen, has come up with these other games for the show:
Blow up several tough-textured toy balloons. Give a prize to the contestant who breaks the most balloons by sitting on them. It probably is unfair—but is funnier—if some contestants are fatter than others.
Have several men bend over. Give a prize to the lady who sews a neat patch on the seat of her partner’s pants first. Somebody’s always sure to get stuck.
Blindfold three couples, with an apple suspended on a string between each pair. Promise a prize for the couple who get the most bites out of their apple. Remove one man’s blindfold. He, of course, starts kissing his girl, who thinks it’s part of the game.
His proudest stunt requires a more uncommon prop—a vibrating reducing machine. He ties its belt across a contestant’s forearms. With arms thus wobbling wildly, a man must thread a needle or roll a cigarette. A lady must make up her face with lipstick and eyebrow pencil. The prize is announced for the lady who does the best make-up job. Actually it goes to the one who messes up her face the most.
The beauty and adaptability of most of Howard’s stunts lie in their low cost. He’s used to working on TV shows that require resourcefulness. For one New York telecast he rented, for $18, a penny-arcade flea circus. A telescopic lens showed close-ups of the insect stars—strong man, chariot racer, juggler, football players, merry-go-round riders.

Edwards loved Cal Howard. He kept Howard as a writer for a juvenile version of “Truth or Consequences” called “Funny Boners” starring Jimmy Weldon, the future voice of Yakky Doodle. Producer Les Raddatz told the Times of December 11, 1954: “We have our best session early Saturday mornings at camera rehearsal. Since we can’t use the actual contestants, every one of the crew takes turns trying the childish tricks. So far writer Cal Howard is the champ. But then he knows all the answers because he writes the questions.” And when Edwards decided to tweak “Truth or Consequences” and bring in Bob Barker to host on December 31, 1956, Howard was assigned to gag the show.

Someone else had their eye on Howard. Two of Steve Allen’s writers dared Howard to appear on Allen’s post-“Tonight” Sunday night show and get clobbered with breakaway bottles. So he did. That was March 31, 1957. Reference guides insist Howard appeared on the show in the 1959-60 season. But soon he was back writing cartoons for Format Films, then for Walter Lantz and fit in freelance work during the last gasps of the Warners studio. Howard wasn’t enamoured of the restrictions placed on TV cartoon stories and gags by that time. Reported Daily Variety on November 25, 1974: “The state of animation was derided by several speakers, with writer Cal Howard saying of Saturday morning kiddie shows, "I have five grandchildren, and not one of them cannot karate chop a cop, rob a bank, or rape a nun."” His Times obit says he became a story editor for Walt Disney Publications in 1974 and retired in 1986. His longevity in the animation industry was marked with an Annie award in 1980. Somewhere in the ‘50s, he wrote comic books featuring Bob Hope and Martin and Lewis.

Cal Howard died in Los Angeles on September 10, 1993.

Oh, you’re wondering about the little people wearing huge dog heads.

“The Adventures of Superman” lasted six seasons and wasn’t renewed in 1958. But producer Whitney Ellsworth thought there was still life in the series if it were adapted for a younger audience. So he hired Howard to come up with a screenplay for a pilot show featuring Superman as a dog. But not a real dog. The denizens of Metropolis were portrayed by actors in dog costumes, and Ellsworth cast former Oz munchkin Billy Curtis and other little people in the roles. Telefilm magazine in 1958 mentions the show as “Projected Programming” but it never aired.

“Super Pup” isn’t even unintentionally hilarious. It’s just bad. Even the intended kid audience could have seen that. The actors can’t talk through the huge, plush heads so Dal McKennon dubbed in all the male voices in accents you’ve heard countless times in Walter Lantz cartoons. There’s stock footage and stock music, the latter mainly from Jack Shaindlin’s Langlois Filmusic library with a few cues you’ll recognise from Yogi Bear cartoons. A notable exception is when Super Pup appears. Ellsworth needed something public domain (ie. cheap) and fitting for a hero, so the strains of the Lone Ranger’s theme, the William Tell Overture, fill the soundtrack. Howard must have been amused by the cheapness. His script fits in an explanation by a narrating mouse about why two pieces of automobile stock footage don’t match. You won’t be able to sit through it all unless you’re masochistic, but I’ve embedded both parts below. It’s so bad, it makes Howard’s work on those wretched Paul J. Smith cartoons seem like pure genius. And that’s no small feat.

The Best Laid Plans of Terry Mice and Men

In the early 1950s, announcers on radio programmes would say something like “This show was transcribed for broadcast at this more convenient time.” We do the same thing here at the Tralfaz blog. Posts are written about six weeks in advance, placed on hold and then they’re automatically posted on a certain date. There’s always a danger that someone else will get the same idea for a post and put it on line while our version is still waiting in the Tralfaz queue.

And that’s what’s happened to my post about Frank Moser.

Moser was a pioneer animator who was beset by tragedy. His daughter died of sleeping sickness. His wife killed herself over it (click on story to the right). He went into the cartoon business with Paul Terry who eased him out, then lost a lawsuit over it. He was sued—and lost—after a freak traffic accident involving the son of the man who kidnapped the Lindbergh baby (which is so bizarre, no one could make it up).

He didn’t even have the respect of all his staff. Said Manny Davis, a long-time director at Terrytoons: “He was a very clever guy with his pencil, but he wasn't funny. He was very, very fast, could make the stuff move nicely in those days. But he really had no sense of humor; he couldn't get a gag over. We were always at odds about that.”

Some background about Moser’s life and career was cobbled together, stuff I hadn’t found in various books, and a nice little post was put together. The trouble is, someone else has done the same thing. And Alex Jay has done it so thoroughly and with so much more excellent information I didn’t find that it’s pointless for me to bother with my post. So I direct you to the Stripper’s Guide blog and find the time to read about a man forgotten in animation except by hard-core Golden and Silent Age fans.

This means a new post that hasn’t been transcribed for a more convenient time will be juggled into our usual Saturday animation history spot.

Crows' Feet Backgrounds

Orange and shades on either side of orange dominate the Friz Freleng cartoon “Crows’ Feat” (1961). And since we’re into the 1960s, stylisation is the key. Clouds aren’t puffy white things; they’re mere outlines in the sky.



The backgrounds are by Tom O’Loughlin, who replaced Boris Gorelick in Freleng’s unit on cartoons that were released starting in 1958. Here’s more of his work, including the scarecrow that (deliberately) resembles Elmer Fudd.



Thomas Gardner O’Loughlin was born in Canada on Christmas Eve Day 1923 to Ernest W. and Nellie Jane Gardner, neither of whom were Canadian (his father was from Washington State). The family was living in Edmonton in 1935 and moved to Indianapolis by 1940. A posting on the Big Cartoon Database states O’Loughlin began work in the animation industry in 1947 but, as usual, that’s not correct. A Los Angeles Times story in early 1952 stated he moved to California from Montana the previous year. He was married in 1953 but his marriage certificate doesn’t list his occupation. As you might expect from someone in Friz’ unit, he later worked at DePatie-Freleng and spent time at Filmation. He died in Healdsburg, California on October 26, 2007.

Felix's Nightmare Monster

Dream sequences give good cartoonists a chance to use their imaginations, and “Felix Dines and Pines” is no exception. Felix has a nightmare after eating a bunch of garbage. Immediately, some monster comes after him.





The monster stands there and his dots and eyes change. Here’s the sequence.



See the white along the legs in the last two frames? It continues in a cycle as well to give the impression the legs (and the white stuff on whatever’s dropping from the monster’s fingers) that it’s moving like ribbons of neon.

I don’t know whether Otto Messmer drew this or a “guest animator” did, but it’s one of the best of the whole Felix series.

No Hope For Bob

Show people had some dandy feuds. Some weren’t real—Jack Benny and Fred Allen, for instance. Some were professional—Parsons and Winchell, for example. And some people just didn’t like each other. I suppose you can put Bob Hope and columnist John Crosby in that category.

Hope sued Crosby (settling out of court) over one column in Life magazine. In return, Crosby didn’t let up on Hope in print for almost ten years. Here’s a syndicated newspaper review from 1954 of what should have been a terrific show. Crosby panned it.

Talent, Money Fail to Save Hope TV Show
By JOHN CROSBY
NEW YORK, Dec, 10.—I just don’t understand how Bob Hope can assemble such a glittering roster of talent and spend so much money and come up with something so mediocre as his last show on NBC-TV Tuesday night.
Hope left the country in November to do a command performance at the Palladium in London. This show was filmed in London with Maurice Chevalier, Beatrice Lillie, and the Cologne 182-voice choir, a British film star named Moira Lister, and a French ballerina named Liane Dayde. With a lineup like that I didn't see how he could possibly miss but he sure did.
ONLY ONE GOOD JOKE
There was the usual opening, Hope in front of a curtain, splattering bad jokes about the English fog and the Los Angeles smog. In ten minutes, there was one good joke: “Over here the government subsidizes the actors to go on television. In our country the actors go on television to subsidize the government.”
Well, maybe it just seemed good because of the company it was in. Incidentally, Hope seemed to slow his normal machine-gun pace down to about half speed for the British who have trouble understanding fast-talking Americans. I don't know whether the laughter that greeted these feeble sallies was authentic English laughter or whether it was the canned stuff they turn out in Hollywood these days.
HEAVY GERMAN SONG
Then came the Cologne Choir. Normally, I'm a sucker for choirs, the bigger the better, but this one intoning some dreadfully German number, as heavy as the food of that country, left me unmoved. On came the incomparable Miss Lillie who was not, I'm afraid, being as incomparable as usual. There's something about being on the Hope show that takes the fire out of people.
Presently along came Liane Dayde, of the Paris Opera ballet, and she, too, was pretty much a disappointment, doing a dance that looked like the sort of thing little girls do in ballet school. Miss Lillie returned as sort of street waif who is picked up by Hope at the stage door and becomes, after a bit of shenanigans, a star of his show. As a cockney waif, she was very appealing but not terribly funny.
UNDERESTIMATES WRITERS
So far so bad, I thought, but wait till Chevalier comes on. You can't kill Chevalier. Well, I underestimated Hope's writers. They can kill anything.
Chevalier made his appearance in a sketch in which Hope is supposedly on a honeymoon with Moira Lister in Cannes. Chevalier shows up as a supposed cousin of the bride and instantly starts making passes at the girl which culminate in a lesson in love-making, involving some kissing that they could never get away with in the movies and shouldn't be allowed here either. There hasn't been anything in such poor taste on television since—well, since Hope had that show in Cleveland with Phil Harris procuring girls for him in a hotel room. Somebody ought to talk to this boy.
Chevalier did redeem himself by his “accents melodiques” number, which is a very clever spoof of different accents as heard by someone who doesn't speak the language, and by singing one of his all-time favorites, “Louise,” and “Seems Like Old Times.”
In contrast, the latest Max Liebman spectacular, while not an unqualified delight, had two perfectly wonderful numbers with Jack Buchanan, the very talented Englishman, one a lampoon of modern stage choreography, the other a little fun poked at English choir groups. It also had Jimmy Durante playing Jimmy Durante which is to say that he was just great.

Chew Chew Shake

Shamus Culhane loved violent impact shakes in his cartoons at Walter Lantz but he did them differently than any other director I can think of. Instead of just having the camera shake on a background drawing, Culhane would move in for a tight close-up of part of the drawing and even flip it around just to enhance the impact (he’d also insert a blank red, yellow or a black card a few times in the middle of the shaking.

A good example is in “Chew-Chew Baby,” a 1944 release featuring Woody Woodpecker in drag duping Wally Walrus, who fails to get even after discovering the con. Here we see Wally sawing a hole in the ceiling in the spot where Woody is standing on the floor above. Woody simply pushes a safe where Wally’s cutting a hole.



Down goes the safe. We don’t see the actual impact. We just see the camera shake and hear sound effects. But look what Culhane does with the drawings. These are consecutive frames.



It’s less than half a second but because of the way Culhane emphasizes the crash, it stands out like it takes up more screen time.

Paul Smith and Grim Natwick get the animation credits in this cartoon; Don Williams worked on it, too.

Egypt Tom

A mop and an orange crate turn Tom into an Egyptian in a nice gag in “The Lonesome Mouse” (1943).



Tom is tossed out of the house and scoots down the stairs into the mop and the box.



They land with Tom looking like the Sphynx and the ends of the crate like pyramids. Note how Tom’s feet are exaggerated to add to the effect.



Cut to Jerry capping the gag by doing a little Egyptian-type dance. He butt jerks with a thump at the end.



No animators are credited, just Bill Hanna, Joe Barbera and Fred Quimby.

Really, I'm Not Cheap. Really.

One of the things that really bothered Jack Benny was that people might really think he was a cheapskate. Why it would bother him, I don’t know. If they thought he was cheap, so what? Well, that wasn’t Jack’s attitude, so he went out of his way—on pretty much an individual basis—to prove he wasn’t tight with a nickel. Then he got resentful about it.

Jack mentioned it in several interviews, but he’s a good example from 1952.

‘Stinginess’ Costs $5000 A Year, Jack Benny Wails
By ALINE MOSBY
United Press Hollywood Correspondent
HOLLYWOOD, Sept. 29 — That stingy character which Jack Benny plays on the radio and TV is costing him $5,000 a year, the comedian sighed today.
For 16 years the amiable Benny has portrayed a tightwad who takes in laundry, pays his valet a starvation salary and hoards cash in a basement vault surrounded by a moat, alligators, three doors and an aged gatewatcher.
By now, he says, some people believe the legend. So to counteract this catastrophe, Benny has turned into in big spender in real life. “I always have to tip as much or more than the next guy,” he said, “I donate more to organizations than I otherwise would. So my expenses are bigger than they should be because of those heavy tips.
“I've done this stingy character so long I guess maybe some people think I really am a little bit cheap.
“You know,” he added, “It's funny, but even the people who work with me tip more, too.”
Once Benny gave a dollar to a hat-check girl in a local nightclub.
“She gave it back and said, ‘Please leave me some illusion’,” he chuckled.
Benny added after a minute, “You better add that I still made her take that dollar.”
Taxi-drivers, especially in New York, kid him about his spend-thrift thrift character. He has to tip them extra-well. Once he was in a hurry to get to his radio show in New York and ran off, forgetting to pay the driver. The cabbie shouted “So it's true what they say about you!”
The comedian figures his program is such a mixture of fiction and fact (Mary Livingstone really did work in that department store) that listeners have trouble dividing the two. Once he received a letter from a Cleveland attorney berating him for not paying enough salary to Rochester, the valet on the show.
On Benny’s recent personal appearance tour around Europe that first question the London reporters popped was, “Are you really mean?” Jack was puzzled until somebody explained that in England “mean” means “stingy.”
In Holland, the queen's husband, told him with a wink, “Why don't you stay at the Palace Hotel? The price is right!”
Recently Benny handed a parking lot attendant $1 to cover a 50-cent charge. The lad pocketed the bill.
“With my reputation,” said Benny firmly, “I didn’t dare ask for the change.”

An Interview With Bugs Bunny

Hollywood is a hype machine, and there’s no end of press agents, handouts, interviews, leaks to gossip writers. It’s been a part of the movie business for decades. Today you can add tweets (some of them bafflingly obtuse or illiterate) to the list. Not much modern publicity seems terribly original or creative.

One fresh way in the ‘40s to conduct an interview was to have the interviewee in character. Radio rags did this; you’ll find someone giving the inside scoop on a soap opera as if they’re the soap opera character. Here’s a cute puff piece where Bugs Bunny is interviewed as Bugs Bunny.

It has no byline, which makes me wonder if it was a standard release from the Warners P.R. department where a newspaper could simply fill in the name of a Bugs cartoon playing at a local theatre. It doesn’t have a lot of hard content and seems to have been meant as a playful parody of interviews; it adds a non-existent romance than never appeared on screen. And I highly doubt that a local newspaper writer would spell Tedd Pierce’s name with two d’s. I like the fact the writers and directors are given some credit, though it’s interesting there’s no mention of Warren Foster or Art Davis. While Davis only directed one Warners cartoon (and it seems probable that was by design), Foster wrote some of the funniest Bugs cartoons of all time.

This story was published in the The Portsmouth Times, December 21, 1946.

STARS BEWARE! MR. B IS ON WAY FOR TOP BILLING
Bugs Bunny Relates Hare-Raising 'From Rabbits To Riches' Saga
Probably none of Hollywood’s top stars realizes it, but they’re all in grave danger of losing their favored positions to a four-footed fugitive from a cartoonist’s ink bottle.
This long-eared pretender to the cinema throne is Warner Brothers’ popular leading man, “Bugs Bunny”, whose rabbity escapades have zoomed him to film-town heights. In a dressing room between scenes of his latest picture, “Rhapsody Rabbit”, which began Friday at the Laroy theater, America’s No. 1 carrot connoisseur gave his own version of “from rabbits to riches”.
“Yeah, Doc, I’ll be glad to tell ya about my hare-raising exploits,” began Mr. B. “If there’s one thing I love to talk about, it’s myself. What’s more interesting, anyway?
It’s Strictly Platonic
“But Doc, keep your nose clean and don’t go sayin’ t’ings about yours truly dat ain’t true. I’m on to youse guys—first t’ing ya know you’ll be startin’ a big romance up between me and dat cute little number I was visitin’ out in de cabbage patch, las’ night. Dat’s stric’ly Platonic, Doc, so don’t go getting’ any ideas!”
Mr. B. stopped momentarily to select another carrot and then continued in a reminiscent mood:
“Ya know, Doc, for my age I’ve come a good long way . . . but dat’s to be expected from someone of my caliber, eh? It all began back in 1936 [sic] when I made my deboo as an extra in a cartoon featurin’ dat big bum, Elmer Fudd. I was one of Elmer’s intended victims, but somehow I didn’t create any furor.
“Agony, agony, I was completely forgotten for over two years while de world did its best to get along widout me. But class will tell, and den I returned to de screen in a ‘quickie’. I wowed ‘em dat time, Doc Knocked ‘em right in de aisles as dey say in de movie business. An’ I kept right on goin’ from dere!”
Admits He’s Modest
Pausing to pick out a sliver of carrot from his prominent bicuspids, Mr. B. went on: “Of course, Doc, I’m a modest character. I’ll admit dat I’m de combined product of over 200 men and women of Warner Brothers’ Cartoons, Inc., in Hollywood. You might quote me as saying dat de Messrs. Charles M. Jones, Isadore Freleng, Bob McKimson, Tedd Pierce and Michael Maltese are all responsible. Even my voice is not me own—it belongs to Mel Blanc, a swell gent who’s allergic to carrots!”
Bugs smiled and added: "Don't know how I do it, Doc. I’m just wot de American public loves. Dey call me de ‘Bogart of de Cartoons’ or de ‘Errol Flynn of de Drawing Board.’
"But you'll have to excuse me now, Doc. I see I'm due back on t set. Ya know how wit is wid artists, Doc, de show must go on!

Perhaps not coincidentally, Bogey and Flynn were under contract to Warners when this was written.

Bugs mentions in his interview that Mel Blanc’s allergic to carrots. Actor (voice and otherwise) Craig Crumpton asked me where the rumour started about Mel’s allergy. Judging by this story and one posted a while ago on the blog, the answer is at least 1946. Here’s another short piece, from the Portland Press Herald, March 10, 1947, where the situation is discussed further.

INSIDE RADIO
By PAUL LUTHER
Prior to the launching of his own starring vehicle this past Fall, Hollywood’s Mel Blanc gained wide recognition as the voice of numerous movie cartoon characters. Among them is the well-known Bugs Bunny. If you’re a moviegoer, you’ve probably enjoyed the antics of Bugs and marveled at his capacity for carrots. This brings us to the point of our little secret.
Mel had been making these particular cartoons for several months but in every instance where the script called upon him to munch carrots while reading his lines he became ill. Puzzled, Mel consulted a doctor who began a series of tests to determine if an allergy existed and sure enough the answer proved to be—carrots.
Informed of this turn of events studio technicians began at once to test all manner of fruits and vegetables to obtain an exact duplication of the carrot crunch. Apples, beets, celery, asparagus all were tried—but to no avail. Finally studio chiefs came up with the following solution: Since the sound couldn’t be duplicated would Mel agree to record all dialogue wherein carrots were used in one session. Seemingly the only answer Mel consented. And to this day whenever Bugs has to gnaw and talk, his creator must undergo a rather unpleasant time with his allergy.

However, Mel’s own autobiography, That’s Not All, Folks, published several decades later, doesn’t say anything about an allergy or illness at all. Mel simply states he doesn’t like the taste of raw carrots. It repeats the story above of Treg Brown being unable to get the right sound from other things and Mel goes on to write he ended up spitting out the carrot in order to read his next line. While Mel is known for really stretching the truth (eg. how he came up with the name “Bugs Bunny”), the carrot expectoration sounds perfectly plausible. So perhaps Mel’s being honest about carrots in his book. Bugs Bunny being allergic to them may have been just another concocted irony of Hollywood’s hype machine.