Yeah, if each cartoon is about 7½ minutes, that’d work out to about two hours—though I can’t help but think one of the cartoons might be one of those “Let’s go to the lobby” commercials. A theatre’s got to make money somehow.
Friday, 17 January 2014
Cartoon Carnival
No TV to watch cartoons? No problem. Just head to your neighbourhood theatre. Here’s one which had a matinee of 17 cartoon shorts.
Yeah, if each cartoon is about 7½ minutes, that’d work out to about two hours—though I can’t help but think one of the cartoons might be one of those “Let’s go to the lobby” commercials. A theatre’s got to make money somehow.
Yeah, if each cartoon is about 7½ minutes, that’d work out to about two hours—though I can’t help but think one of the cartoons might be one of those “Let’s go to the lobby” commercials. A theatre’s got to make money somehow.
Thursday, 16 January 2014
Lights of the Silvery Moon
Weird creatures populated all kinds of cartoons made in New York in the early ‘30s. One of those shorts was Van Beuren’s “Silvery Moon” (1933) where a pair of cats act like Cubby Bear and his girl-friend, with the male cat dressed just like Jerry from the Tom and Jerry cartoons.
The cats climb a stairway to the moon where they discover it’s made of candy—and meet up with three bizarre beings with shining light bulbs on top of their heads. They’ve got great little individual walks that you can’t tell from these frames.
The cats eat too much candy and end up being chased by a bottle of Castor Oil and a spoon.
John Foster and Mannie Davis get the credits on this one. Sounds like Margie Hines as the girl cat.
The cats climb a stairway to the moon where they discover it’s made of candy—and meet up with three bizarre beings with shining light bulbs on top of their heads. They’ve got great little individual walks that you can’t tell from these frames.
The cats eat too much candy and end up being chased by a bottle of Castor Oil and a spoon.
John Foster and Mannie Davis get the credits on this one. Sounds like Margie Hines as the girl cat.
Wednesday, 15 January 2014
The Duck Who Wasn't
Everyone knows Frank Milano was the voice of Donald Duck. Well, he was. Just not the way you think.
Clarence Nash portrayed Donald in the Disney cartoons and, I presume, on Disneyland Records. But another record company released children’s 45s and 78s featuring cartoon characters, and it generally didn’t get the original cast members, more than likely for contractual reasons. So Golden Records in New York made do with radio actors Gil Mack and Frank Milano imitating Bugs Bunny, Yogi Bear and Donald Duck with varying degrees of success—or lack thereof, if you’ve heard the records.
That isn’t taking away anything from Mack and Milano. They were excellent radio actors and they both did some cartoon work on the East Coast. But they simply weren’t Mel Blanc or Daws Butler and their versions of the Warners and Hanna-Barbera characters sounded inept at times.
We wrote a post about Milano over at the Yowp blog some time ago. This post features a different biography on Milano, from the front page of the Chatham Courier of February 1, 1951. The writer remains anonymous.
Milano died in New York on December 15, 1962, age 64.
Clarence Nash portrayed Donald in the Disney cartoons and, I presume, on Disneyland Records. But another record company released children’s 45s and 78s featuring cartoon characters, and it generally didn’t get the original cast members, more than likely for contractual reasons. So Golden Records in New York made do with radio actors Gil Mack and Frank Milano imitating Bugs Bunny, Yogi Bear and Donald Duck with varying degrees of success—or lack thereof, if you’ve heard the records.
That isn’t taking away anything from Mack and Milano. They were excellent radio actors and they both did some cartoon work on the East Coast. But they simply weren’t Mel Blanc or Daws Butler and their versions of the Warners and Hanna-Barbera characters sounded inept at times.
We wrote a post about Milano over at the Yowp blog some time ago. This post features a different biography on Milano, from the front page of the Chatham Courier of February 1, 1951. The writer remains anonymous.
Versatile Frank Milano Is Donald Duck’s Voice:
Hillsdale Farmer is TV’s Top-Animal Noise Maker
When television and movie studios want anything from cricket sounds to lion roars, airplanes, bus, train, wind, and trick voices, as well as special effects, there's only one person they can call on and that's Frank Milano, a resident of the Town of Hillsdale.
Frank, a robust, locquacious, pipe-smoking young man in his middle 30's, moved to Columbia County in May, 1949. He and his wife, a mechanical engineer, wanted to “get away from it all” and purchased the former Silas Jones home where, this summer, they will farm 300 acres. We visited the Milanos last week and found Frank waiting for us at the end of a lane on the Philmont-Craryville road.
His love for animals and animal noises began when he was a youngster in his native Wilmington, Del. His father, an avid botanist and astronomer, took the boy out into the woods and by the time he was seven, when his father died, young Frank was well versed in the science of woodlore.
BARKED FOR CASH
After his father's death young Milano went through Wilmington's schools and when his heart and mind turned to the stage, like all young hopefuls he headed for New York. This was in 1941 and Pearl Harbor clashed his immediate hopes for a theatrical career. He was turned down by the Armed Services and returned to Wilmington to work in the ship yards as.a morale director. The management evidently thought morale was high enough and the job was abolished. Frank soon found himself bound for Europe with Raymond Massey's U.S.O. troupe in the stage production "Our Town." The thespians toured the soldier circuit through England, France and Germany. Playgoers may recall that "Our Town" was done without scenery using only the stage walls as backdrops. In the production there was need of chicken sounds, train whistles and dogs howling. Frank filled the bill perfectly and "barked for cash" each time he wasn't on stage.
When the war ended, he headed for Hollywood but by this time he decided that a career of eating one week and starving the next was not for Milano. His career now would be NOISES—nothing, else.
With this in mind, he returned to New York and his success was immediate. He appeared on the Milton Berle radio show, the Lux Radio Theatre, Admiral TV show and filled in with his cricket-to-lion noises on a dozen more programs.
Along with Mel Blanc, Milano is probably the top cartoon voice man in the business. He's the voice of Mighty Mouse in the popular Paul Terry "Terrytoons", but most of his time is taken up as "Little Nipper" on the Rooty Kazooty program, a children's puppet show, televised over NBT each Saturday morning and sponsored by RCA.
HE'LL DO DONALD DUCK
Rooty is a typical American boy! He loves baseball, football and boxing, and his constant companion is "Little Nipper", a tiny dog, supposedly the son of the famous Victor trademark, the forlorn-looking white canine who has been listening for "His Master's Voice" for the last half century.
Milano does the voice or "Nipper", as the little dog and Rooty stage a weekly war against a villainous character, "Poison Zoomac." On Rooty's side, too, is "Pepito Mosquito", who though unseen, creates plenty of trouble on the video screen.
"How does Pepito sound?", we inquired innocently. Immediately the room was filled with buzzing, which reached a crescendo and ended up with a Boinnnng! The ‘Boinnng’ was the sting.
Along with "Nipper", Milano portrays El Sqeeko, a Mexican mouse who is a "catador" and Madame Gizzi Gazizzi, an opera singer. To do the half hour show, the Hillsdale farmer-noisemakcr puts in several hours work each week.
In the near future he'll do the voice of Donald Duck and Pluto the Pup on a new children's record album, and only recently he and Bob Smith completed the waxing of Howdy Doody's Laughing Circus in which Milano was "Charlie the Chattering Chimpanzee."
Between these shows he sandwiches in a few extra noises with Bobby Benson's B-Bar-B Riders on the Mutual Broadcasting System. That Milano is versatile is proven by the fact that he does Bobby's horse Amigo, a dog named "Hero", and a pet' skunk. "Honeysuckle", without flubbing a decibel.
We asked Frank what he did when he wasn't in a recording studio or at his Hillsdale farm. "You'll find me at the Bronx Zoo", was the prompt reply, "I like to listen to animals.
Hillsdale Farmer is TV’s Top-Animal Noise Maker
When television and movie studios want anything from cricket sounds to lion roars, airplanes, bus, train, wind, and trick voices, as well as special effects, there's only one person they can call on and that's Frank Milano, a resident of the Town of Hillsdale.
Frank, a robust, locquacious, pipe-smoking young man in his middle 30's, moved to Columbia County in May, 1949. He and his wife, a mechanical engineer, wanted to “get away from it all” and purchased the former Silas Jones home where, this summer, they will farm 300 acres. We visited the Milanos last week and found Frank waiting for us at the end of a lane on the Philmont-Craryville road.
His love for animals and animal noises began when he was a youngster in his native Wilmington, Del. His father, an avid botanist and astronomer, took the boy out into the woods and by the time he was seven, when his father died, young Frank was well versed in the science of woodlore.
BARKED FOR CASH
When the war ended, he headed for Hollywood but by this time he decided that a career of eating one week and starving the next was not for Milano. His career now would be NOISES—nothing, else.
With this in mind, he returned to New York and his success was immediate. He appeared on the Milton Berle radio show, the Lux Radio Theatre, Admiral TV show and filled in with his cricket-to-lion noises on a dozen more programs.
Along with Mel Blanc, Milano is probably the top cartoon voice man in the business. He's the voice of Mighty Mouse in the popular Paul Terry "Terrytoons", but most of his time is taken up as "Little Nipper" on the Rooty Kazooty program, a children's puppet show, televised over NBT each Saturday morning and sponsored by RCA.
HE'LL DO DONALD DUCK
Rooty is a typical American boy! He loves baseball, football and boxing, and his constant companion is "Little Nipper", a tiny dog, supposedly the son of the famous Victor trademark, the forlorn-looking white canine who has been listening for "His Master's Voice" for the last half century.
Milano does the voice or "Nipper", as the little dog and Rooty stage a weekly war against a villainous character, "Poison Zoomac." On Rooty's side, too, is "Pepito Mosquito", who though unseen, creates plenty of trouble on the video screen.
"How does Pepito sound?", we inquired innocently. Immediately the room was filled with buzzing, which reached a crescendo and ended up with a Boinnnng! The ‘Boinnng’ was the sting.
Along with "Nipper", Milano portrays El Sqeeko, a Mexican mouse who is a "catador" and Madame Gizzi Gazizzi, an opera singer. To do the half hour show, the Hillsdale farmer-noisemakcr puts in several hours work each week.
In the near future he'll do the voice of Donald Duck and Pluto the Pup on a new children's record album, and only recently he and Bob Smith completed the waxing of Howdy Doody's Laughing Circus in which Milano was "Charlie the Chattering Chimpanzee."
Between these shows he sandwiches in a few extra noises with Bobby Benson's B-Bar-B Riders on the Mutual Broadcasting System. That Milano is versatile is proven by the fact that he does Bobby's horse Amigo, a dog named "Hero", and a pet' skunk. "Honeysuckle", without flubbing a decibel.
We asked Frank what he did when he wasn't in a recording studio or at his Hillsdale farm. "You'll find me at the Bronx Zoo", was the prompt reply, "I like to listen to animals.
Milano died in New York on December 15, 1962, age 64.
Tuesday, 14 January 2014
A Sign of Tex Avery
Phoney title card introductions and explanatory signs were all part of Tex Avery’s comedy arsenal during his directorial career. We get both in “The Early Bird Dood It,” Avery’s first cartoon at MGM.
Here’s the introduction sign, reminiscent of the kind of thing he did at Warner Bros. (Scott Bradley plays “Here Comes the Bride” in the background).
Avery opens the cartoon with a slow pan over a background. There’s no music or dialogue. Finally the camera stops for a sign commenting on the action so far.
The worm in the picture pulls down a window shade with a title on it. Naturally, it rolls up again and the scene has changed.
And that’s followed by another explanatory sign.
Foul language is not permitted in cartoons, we’re informed.
A fun little gag (which Avery used in other cartoons) is when the chase stops for a drink. I really like how the bar is shaped like a beer keg. The bird puts out a sign informing us the cartoon is momentarily on hold, then puts out another sign when the break is finished. One of the great things about the early ‘40s MGM cartoons is checking out the different drawings of characters slipping and sliding around before they take off out of the frame (Tom does this in the Tom and Jerry cartoons). But eventually, Tex realised it slowed down the chase, making it take longer to get to the next gag, so he eliminated all those drawings.
A flurry of street sign gag follows. The bird and the worm race past a sign saying “SLOW.” So they back up and run past the sign again slowly, picking up speed when the next sign allows them to.
The cat races past the bird, we hear a screech, and the camera shakes as it pans across a background drawing littered with road signs.
Then the camera pans down the cliff to the lake below.
Another sign leads the bird and cat off another cliff.
Ah, but the worm gets eaten by the bird and the bird gets eaten by the cat. The cat closes the cartoon with another sign that Avery used again.
Rich Hogan was Avery’s writer. Animation credits go to Irv Spence, Preston Blair, Ed Love and Ray Abrams.
Here’s the introduction sign, reminiscent of the kind of thing he did at Warner Bros. (Scott Bradley plays “Here Comes the Bride” in the background).
Avery opens the cartoon with a slow pan over a background. There’s no music or dialogue. Finally the camera stops for a sign commenting on the action so far.
The worm in the picture pulls down a window shade with a title on it. Naturally, it rolls up again and the scene has changed.
And that’s followed by another explanatory sign.
Foul language is not permitted in cartoons, we’re informed.
A fun little gag (which Avery used in other cartoons) is when the chase stops for a drink. I really like how the bar is shaped like a beer keg. The bird puts out a sign informing us the cartoon is momentarily on hold, then puts out another sign when the break is finished. One of the great things about the early ‘40s MGM cartoons is checking out the different drawings of characters slipping and sliding around before they take off out of the frame (Tom does this in the Tom and Jerry cartoons). But eventually, Tex realised it slowed down the chase, making it take longer to get to the next gag, so he eliminated all those drawings.
A flurry of street sign gag follows. The bird and the worm race past a sign saying “SLOW.” So they back up and run past the sign again slowly, picking up speed when the next sign allows them to.
The cat races past the bird, we hear a screech, and the camera shakes as it pans across a background drawing littered with road signs.
Then the camera pans down the cliff to the lake below.
Another sign leads the bird and cat off another cliff.
Ah, but the worm gets eaten by the bird and the bird gets eaten by the cat. The cat closes the cartoon with another sign that Avery used again.
Rich Hogan was Avery’s writer. Animation credits go to Irv Spence, Preston Blair, Ed Love and Ray Abrams.
Monday, 13 January 2014
Clampett Cut
Bob Clampett had the oddest cuts at times. He’d jump from one scene to the next and the action wouldn’t be consistent.
Here’s an example from the Snafu cartoon “Fighting Tools” (1943). These are consecutive frames. But the action doesn’t match.
There’s lots of fun Rod Scribner animation in this and Mel Blanc does his machine-gun equivalent of Jack Benny’s Maxwell.
Here’s an example from the Snafu cartoon “Fighting Tools” (1943). These are consecutive frames. But the action doesn’t match.
There’s lots of fun Rod Scribner animation in this and Mel Blanc does his machine-gun equivalent of Jack Benny’s Maxwell.
Sunday, 12 January 2014
Entertaining in the Korean War Zone
To the right, you see a picture dated June 26, 1951 of the Benny troupe. You should recognise at least one other face. In the far right of the photo is the formerly swashbuckling Errol Flynn, who died eight years later not too many blocks from where Jack’s wife, Mary Livingstone, grew up in Vancouver’s West End. To the far left is someone well-known to Benny fans—guitarist Frank Remley. Also in the photo are Benay Venuta, Marjorie Reynolds, tap dancer Dolores Gay, mentalist Harry Kahne and pianist June Bruner, who had been with Benny on a U.S.O. tour of the South Pacific during World War Two. The group returned home August 6th. He was cheery about the experience when he talked to the Associated Press’ Hollywood reporter about the jaunt. The column appeared in newspapers on August 10, 1951.
JACK BENNY FINDS MORALE OF YANKS IN KOREA HIGH
By BOB THOMAS
Hollywood, Aug. 10 (AP)—"The morale of our men in Korea is terrific," reports Jack Benny, returned this week from entertaining troops in the front lines.
"They know what they're fighting for," added the fiddle-hacking comedian. "Naturally, they want peace. But they want the right kind of peace, and they're willing to continue fighting until they get it.
"The one thing that nearly every one of them asks is: 'Do the people back home know there's a war on?' I told them, 'You're darned right they do.'"
In his six weeks absence from Hollywood, Benny figures he traveled between 25,000 and 30,000 miles with his entertainment troupe. They played before troops and wounded veterans in Hawaii, Japan, Okinawa and throughout Korea. It was a thorough job. Virtually every possible audience of U. S. soldiers in the Orient was reached, with one exception. That was a group at Pusan who could not be reached because of bad landing conditions for aircraft.
"The food was good wherever we went," said Benny. "But the living and traveling conditions were tougher than anywhere I had been, including North Africa. Much of the time I was living in a dirt-floor tent close to the front lines.
"We had to use every kind of transportation, from light aircraft to helicopter to jeep. The reason is because Korea is so mountainous. The boys have a gag over there that if Korea were flattened out, it would be as big as Texas."
Benny commented that his audiences were highly appreciative of the entertainment. They howled at any reference to Benny's alleged stinginess, such as: "That Tokyo is a fast town; I was there just a few days ago and 50 yen went just like that." As for his violin playing, "you'd think I was Heifetz."
Wherever he went, army bands would strike up "Love in Bloom." A navy base in Japan was filled with signs reading "Waukegan City Limits." As in the last war, there were occasional "Welcome Fred Allen" banners.
"There was only one audience from which we didn't get the laughs we usually got," he recalled. "They were a bunch of fellows who had to go out the next morning and take a hill which we could see from where we were. They were naturally uneasy, not because they were scared but because of the feeling that they might get hit with the peace possibly near."
Benny is urging other stars to enlist for entertainment in Korea. "It is the greatest audience in the world," he said.
"But it's a funny thing—they want good entertainment or none at all. They get fairly late movies and they like them if the pictures are good. If they're bad, the boys will walk out in the middle."
I asked Jack what gag got his biggest laugh.
"It was usually a local joke," he replied. "The best one was when I'd tell them I was going to retire and be a movie producer: "I can see it now—Jack Benny presents Bing Crosby and Bob Hope in 'The Road to Taegu'."
The United Press published a bit of a different take on the tour the following month. Jack admitted he was a little worn out by the whole experience. It wasn’t like he was 39; he was 57 years old. But he didn’t take it easy, either. He appeared in living rooms weekly for more than a dozen more years and performed benefit concerts and other charity events. He was beginning a movie comeback at the time of his death in 1974. But when the next war rolled around in Vietnam, Benny left the entertaining to others. One of them was Bob Hope. Ol’ Ski Nose wasn’t quite exhausted yet.
Saturday, 11 January 2014
How to Write a Cartoon by a Non-Cartoon Writer
To the average person, it would seem logical to ask the owner of a cartoon studio how a cartoon is made. And you’d get a good answer out of Walt Disney or Walter Lantz, Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera or Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising. After all, at one time they were animators who worked on the actual cartoons themselves.
But it’d have been pointless asking someone like Charlie Mintz. Not only did Mintz never draw anything, he got into the cartoon business by marriage. His wife, Margaret Winkler, was distributing a number of animated series when the two tied the knot back in the silent days. But someone interviewed Mintz about writing cartoons. Here’s what he had to say. This was published in the Charleston Gazette of October 20, 1935.
Cartoonists Shout Lots and Scribble Much, Says Mintz
BY PETTERSEN MARZONI
One sure way to tell a writer or gagman for animated cartoons Is to observe him carefully and see whether he acts like a human being If he does he is not working on cartoons. A touch of sanity is the distinguishing mark of the breed. This is the opinion of Charles Mintz, head of the staff which details the adventures of Scrappy, Krazy Kat, Barney Google, et al, for Columbia Pictures.
“They are what most people would call screwy”, is the way Mr. Mintz puts it. “Life seems to them just as haphazard and startling as the plots they conceive for animateds. They become accustomed to letting their minds run loose, so to speak:—for their writing isn’t bound by the rules of real life. But the trick is to think up things that are not only strange but that can be drawn. Also, it takes a special gift to conceive the many little incidental touches which distinguish a good animated from a bad one.”
Long experience has taught him that there are no absolute tests by which to determine a man’s talent for creating animated cartoon plots. The Mintz studio employs seven writers and five gagmen. Some of the best used to be highbrow writers, some have served an apprenticeship in vaudeville and some came straight from college. However, Mr. Mintz has observed that they all have a few traits in common.
Heated Conferences
“A stranger sitting in at one of our story conferences would think they were maniacs”, says he. “They fight just as much as delegates to a peace conference. A good gagman will scream and jump to try to get one of his ideas used in a picture. They all talk at once and each tries to talk louder than the others. Also, they walk up and down a lot—we would get along without chairs nicely in our conference rooms.”
“But the surest sign of an animated writer is that when he talks, he automatically reaches for a pencil to illustrate what he’s talking about. If he doesn't sketch figures, he will at least make lines and eccentric designs. In other words, he’s a man who thinks with his pencil.”
So, when Mr. Mintz interviews a prospective writer, he always has plenty of paper around. If the applicant doesn’t reach for a pencil as soon as he starts telling his ideas, the verdict is apt to be thumbs down.
Twelve people in the story department? Well, there was Lou Lilly and Irv Spector and, uh, well, I suppose Allen Rose and Ben Harrison in 1935. But I don’t know who else he meant.
Mintz was having a tough time of it. Columbia Pictures eventually took over his studio and Mintz was dead before the start of 1940.
Friday, 10 January 2014
Walter Lantz' Secret Ad
Walter Lantz gets in a plug for his comic books in “Well Oiled” (1947).
Background painting by Fred Brunish.
Background painting by Fred Brunish.
Thursday, 9 January 2014
Blitz Wolf Zoom
Words form on the screen in a scene from “Blitz Wolf” (1942). First, a bomb turns into a bottle opener to rip the top off a tank. Adolf Wolf quickly escapes.
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Then it blows up with a “boom.” We know that because the cartoon tells us.
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And here’s another letter formation in the next scene.
Devon Baxter via Mark Kausler tells me this is a Ray Abrams scene. Ed Love, Preston Blair and Irv Spence also get animation credits in this great Tex Avery short.
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Then it blows up with a “boom.” We know that because the cartoon tells us.
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And here’s another letter formation in the next scene.
Devon Baxter via Mark Kausler tells me this is a Ray Abrams scene. Ed Love, Preston Blair and Irv Spence also get animation credits in this great Tex Avery short.
Wednesday, 8 January 2014
Orchestrating Lantz
Carl Stalling didn’t do all the musical work on his own at Warners Bros. He had Milt Franklyn as an orchestrator for many years. Before him, Bernie Brown and Norm Spencer had Norm Spencer, Jr. Over at MGM, Scott Bradley had Paul Marquard (as well as Dave Snell as a musical adviser on the Captain and the Kids shorts). So who handled arrangements at the Walter Lantz studio?
The answer is sort of provided in Variety. Here’s a blurb in the weekly version that’s a repeat from Daily Variety of November 16, 1954.
Keith Williams was a drummer with a number of different bands, including Bobby Sherwood’s in 1947. He served as president of the American Society of Music Arrangers and president of the Musicians Union local 47. Here’s part of his obit from the Long Beach Press Telegram.
KEITH ROLLINS WILLIAMS July 25, 1924-December 27, 2008 Keith was born in Garfield, Utah. At the age of two he moved to California. He went to John H. Francis Polytechnic High School, and attended Occidental College, obtaining his Bachelor of Arts in music. After completing a tour of duty in the Air Force in 1945, he organized his own 14-piece dance band, which played extensively in and around the South West.
Throughout his career he studied under leaders in his field - writing, conducting, arranging and creating 12-tone compositions. Upon disbanding the dance group he became Staff Orchestrator for Walter Lantz cartoons. moving on to become Staff Composer for Gene Autry Range Writer Productions for TV. A change of pace saw him take over the chores of Capitol Producer - Capitol Writer for the TV show "Melody Time" on KTTV, as well as executive producer for TV Unlimited Productions. During his multifaceted career, Keith arranged, orchestrated and composed for no less than 28 full length motion pictures, 42 cartoons and 7 commercial films. His best known work was as Musical Director and Conductor for Charles Chaplin's film, "Limelight".
Keith's desire to again form a big band returned. He organized a new 17-piece band labeled "The Dazzling Sound", recording for Liberty Records, an album which was considered one of the All Time Best Selling Albums. The orchestra was listed in the 1957 Disc Jockey Poll as one of America's top ten "most promising Orchestras". During this time, he traveled with Johnny Mathis and the "Hi-Lo's".
Other highlights in his career were were serving as Arranger and Copysit Representative and President of the Musician's Union Local-47, as well as President of the California Copywrite [sic] Conference. In the meantime, Keith earned his Master's degree in music at CSUN. He went on to teach music in both private and public school systems, retiring from LAUSD in 1988.
If you’re interested in the Liberty recording, check out this blog.
It’d be interesting to learn which composer Williams worked with at Lantz. Darrell Calker in the ‘40s went from swing to classical, as well comic compositions with those peek-a-boo reeds he loved. He took the latter with him when he wrote music for the Columbia cartoons in the mid-‘40s (he was also composing for features at the same time). Clarence Wheeler’s music at Lantz in the early ‘50s is comparatively sparse; one cartoon features little more than an electric organ.
One thing neither Calker, Wheeler nor Williams did was write the Lantz studio’s number one hit. “The Woody Woodpecker Song” was penned by two guys in the orchestra Calker used for the cartoons. However, Lantz apparently wasn’t doing as well as Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising at their studio a decade earlier. They had their own lyricist. Variety again.
I haven’t found much about Myers. He copyrighted a song in 1931 while he was living in Cleveland. I wonder if he’s responsible for these lyrics in the 1934 H-I short “The Discontented Canary” (sung by the Rhythmettes?):
Once a canary, his love did bemoan
Locked in an old cage to live all alone
While out in the wild world he wanted to roam
And fly with the birds in the trees.
Now the bird that we sing of was lonesome
He wanted to fly in the breeze
But all he could do was to lead (?) and to sing
And swing on his flying trapeze.
Scott Bradley gets the sole credit for the compositions in this cartoon. Given his classical aspirations, I suspect he’d be glad to have someone else claim the lyrics as theirs.’
The answer is sort of provided in Variety. Here’s a blurb in the weekly version that’s a repeat from Daily Variety of November 16, 1954.
Keith Williams was a drummer with a number of different bands, including Bobby Sherwood’s in 1947. He served as president of the American Society of Music Arrangers and president of the Musicians Union local 47. Here’s part of his obit from the Long Beach Press Telegram.
KEITH ROLLINS WILLIAMS July 25, 1924-December 27, 2008 Keith was born in Garfield, Utah. At the age of two he moved to California. He went to John H. Francis Polytechnic High School, and attended Occidental College, obtaining his Bachelor of Arts in music. After completing a tour of duty in the Air Force in 1945, he organized his own 14-piece dance band, which played extensively in and around the South West.
Throughout his career he studied under leaders in his field - writing, conducting, arranging and creating 12-tone compositions. Upon disbanding the dance group he became Staff Orchestrator for Walter Lantz cartoons. moving on to become Staff Composer for Gene Autry Range Writer Productions for TV. A change of pace saw him take over the chores of Capitol Producer - Capitol Writer for the TV show "Melody Time" on KTTV, as well as executive producer for TV Unlimited Productions. During his multifaceted career, Keith arranged, orchestrated and composed for no less than 28 full length motion pictures, 42 cartoons and 7 commercial films. His best known work was as Musical Director and Conductor for Charles Chaplin's film, "Limelight".
Keith's desire to again form a big band returned. He organized a new 17-piece band labeled "The Dazzling Sound", recording for Liberty Records, an album which was considered one of the All Time Best Selling Albums. The orchestra was listed in the 1957 Disc Jockey Poll as one of America's top ten "most promising Orchestras". During this time, he traveled with Johnny Mathis and the "Hi-Lo's".
Other highlights in his career were were serving as Arranger and Copysit Representative and President of the Musician's Union Local-47, as well as President of the California Copywrite [sic] Conference. In the meantime, Keith earned his Master's degree in music at CSUN. He went on to teach music in both private and public school systems, retiring from LAUSD in 1988.
If you’re interested in the Liberty recording, check out this blog.
It’d be interesting to learn which composer Williams worked with at Lantz. Darrell Calker in the ‘40s went from swing to classical, as well comic compositions with those peek-a-boo reeds he loved. He took the latter with him when he wrote music for the Columbia cartoons in the mid-‘40s (he was also composing for features at the same time). Clarence Wheeler’s music at Lantz in the early ‘50s is comparatively sparse; one cartoon features little more than an electric organ.
One thing neither Calker, Wheeler nor Williams did was write the Lantz studio’s number one hit. “The Woody Woodpecker Song” was penned by two guys in the orchestra Calker used for the cartoons. However, Lantz apparently wasn’t doing as well as Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising at their studio a decade earlier. They had their own lyricist. Variety again.
I haven’t found much about Myers. He copyrighted a song in 1931 while he was living in Cleveland. I wonder if he’s responsible for these lyrics in the 1934 H-I short “The Discontented Canary” (sung by the Rhythmettes?):
Once a canary, his love did bemoan
Locked in an old cage to live all alone
While out in the wild world he wanted to roam
And fly with the birds in the trees.
Now the bird that we sing of was lonesome
He wanted to fly in the breeze
But all he could do was to lead (?) and to sing
And swing on his flying trapeze.
Scott Bradley gets the sole credit for the compositions in this cartoon. Given his classical aspirations, I suspect he’d be glad to have someone else claim the lyrics as theirs.’
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