Thermos Cartoon Violence

Violently jerky camera movement on impact was not uncommon in the Gene Deitch Tom and Jerry cartoons. Here’s an example from “Sorry Safari” (1962). The unnamed hunter (played by Deitch’s buddy Allen Swift) bashes Tom with his thermos. Each shot is taken twice.



The Deitch T&Js are generally a sorry mess, not a sorry safari, but the elephant design in this one is funny.



Deitch’s cartoons were produced by William Snyder, who seems to have worked out a secret deal with MGM for the cat and mouse shorts. Here’s the part of a Daily Variety story from March 9, 1961 dealing with the cartoons:

Mochrie Details MGM Plan To Resume Tom & Jerry Cartoon Prod’n Abroad
New York, March 8. – Bill Snyder’s deal with Metro for production of new Tom & Jerry cartoons in Europe, closed more than six months ago, today was publicly announced by Robert Mochrie, sales veepee, to more than 75 delegates before winding two-day sales sesh at Astor Hotel.
During past several years Metro reissued T&J's in color and other shorts singly and in packages. About five years ago Metro curtailed all shorts production when cost per subject was found prohibitive. Snyder, through his Rembrandt Films, has produced cartoons abroad for half Metro's tally sheets. He's been quietly making T&J's to build backlog for one a month release starting May 8.
Former trade paper reporter, Snyder has imported numerous foreign features and shorts, one or two winning Academy recognition.

And contrary to popular belief, the cartoons weren’t all done at Deitch’s studio in Czechoslovakia. Here’s Variety again, from April 21, 1961:

Bill Snyder, whose “Munro” short won an Oscar Monday, has five units working on new product in four foreign countries: one each in London, Zurich, Milan, Rome and Prague. Stories, soundtrack and layouts are prepared in Gotham, he said. Three of 13 “Tom & Jerry” subjects for Metro have been completed

While Deitch et al were making their shorts overseas, MGM continued to release Tom and Jerrys from its own closed studio in a compilation “Tom and Jerry Festival of Fun.” Finally, Metro announced a change. The headline in a lengthy front-page Variety story of August 30, 1963: “MGM Revives ‘Tom-Jerry’ Shorts After 6 Years, Walter Bien Producing”. Thus ended Gene Deitch’s brief connection with a 23-year-old cat and mouse team. We’ll have the Bien story tomorrow.

Cow vs Train Silently

Jerry’s on the job as a steam locomotive engineer in “The Wrong Track,” a 1920 cartoon produced by the Bray Studios.

The cartoon’s under three minutes and it consists of one joke with a long set-up. But there’s some nice perspective animation as Jerry’s train comes in at an angle and is stymied by a recalcitrant, cross-eyed cow.



Jerry tries pulling the cow off the tracks.



The cow then kicks the train back a few yards.



Jerry doesn’t give up. He revs up the train and runs into the cow, killing it and the train in the process. I liked the scrunched up cow in the first drawing below. When did cartoonists stop drawing crosses on the eyes like that?



You can read more about the Jerry on the Job series HERE and if you click around, you’ll learn about the fine work Tom Stathes is doing to preserve silent cartoons. My thanks to Devon Baxter for the frames.

It's True! It's On The Radio!

People believe what they hear on the radio, even if it’s obviously false. Jack Benny went out of his way to tip people to prove to them he wasn’t a tightwad like he was on his show. But there was a little blurring of lines when it came to Benny because on the radio he played Jack Benny, Radio Comedian.

There was no blurring of lines when it came to soap operas. The characters were made up. Their settings were made up. Yet for some, the acting was so convincing, they believed the ridiculous idea that someone had microphones planted all around them and their friends, and that real lives were being broadcast live, accompanied by organ music, an announcer and convenient commercial breaks.

Radio soap actress Mary Jane Higby devoted a chapter in her autobiography to misguided listeners who simply and steadfastly refused to believe it was only a show. Higby was one of a number of stars who had first-hand experience with delusional fans. And it is one of Higby’s shows that columnist John Crosby referred to in his thoughts on soap addicts in one of his columns published in late 1946.

RADIO IN REVIEW
Soap Opera Addicts
By JOHN CROSBY
NEW YORK, Dec 30.—The dim twilight of soap opera la not everyone’s world. It is a special world, it would appear, built purposely for those persons whose credulity has no apparent limits. To the sceptical listener with a ready fund of humor the agonies of soap opera offers neither escape nor amusement. For that sort of listener, of whom there are a great many, a far more rewarding study than soap opera is that of, the people who listen to the darn things, or, as someone, put it so well, the proper study of man is man.
Soap opera is not so much a taste as an addiction. Even broadcasters will admit that the soap opera fan listens not to just one but to several, sometimes five or six a day, deriving from the later ones even more comfort than from the early ones when they sink further and further into the nebulous world of fancy and farther and farther from the prosaic world of the dishes. Just how virulent this soap opera drug can become was well illustrated by a recent occurrence in New Jersey.
A Mrs. Davis of Hillsborough township, near Somerville, New Jersey, recently received a note on which was scrawled: “Steve killed Betty MacDonald. Irma has him on her farm. I hope you will come out of this with flying colors.” Mrs. Davis turned the letter over to police who traced it without difficulty to a woman in Brooklyn, from whom they wrung this remarkable confession.
The writer told police that she listened every day to a soap opera called “When a Girl Marries.” On this program recently a Betty MacDonald was killed and Harry Davis of “Somerville” was arrested. The Brooklyn letter writer went on to explain that Harry Davis was really innocent. The real murderer, she told the startled cops, was a man named Steve, Betty’s lover, who was now hiding out on Irma's farm. (Irma loved him, too.) She had written the letter to Mrs. Davis to reassure her that everything would come out all right and to assure her that her faith in Mrs. Davis and Harry remained unshaken.
That’s all there is to the story. The police presumably told the Brooklyn lady not to write any more letters and may even have advised her against taking soap opera so seriously. The reaction of the Brooklyn addict to a visitation from the cops remains unknown. Does she still listen to “When a Girl Marries"? What went through her mind when she discovered that Harry and Irma and Steve were people of fancy, not fact? Was she outraged at this betrayal of her implicit trust and, if so, has she found anything to take its place? Or, to put it more plainly, are there any other anodynes so satisfying and undemanding as soap opera for credulous ladies from Brooklyn?
The spy psychiatrists will have to take it up from there. This column is out of its depth.

A Wild Fudd

Elmer Fudd is dwiven nuts by the horse-whinny version of Bugs Bunny in “Elmer’s Candid Camera” (1940). Bob McKimson gets the sole animation credit but Ken Harris, Bobe Cannon and Phil Monroe, I suspect, animated on this cartoon as well. Is that Harris doing Elmer in the net?



Highlights, modelling, gags that you tire of before they finish unfolding. Yes, it’s an early Chuck Jones cartoon. Fortunately, this Bugs was jettisoned by the studio after Tex Avery figured out the character and Jones went on to make outstanding, memorable cartoons with the new weisenheimer version.

She Lives Just Down the Road Apiece Yonder

Little Rural Riding Hood (Colleen Collins) directs us with her toe to her Grandma’s house. The camera pans along Johnny Johnsen’s background. Here’s the drawing. Click to enlarge.



Daws Butler and Pinto Colvig lend voices in an all-star cast in Red’s farewell performance.

Jack Benny Saves Buffalo

The Buffalo Philharmonic is thriving today. You can go to their website here and find out. But there was a time when it wasn’t. And to the rescue rode—Buck Benny!

Jack Benny was rightfully proud of the benefit concerts he gave over the years to help orchestras/symphonies and save old theatres. One was in Buffalo. Jack was pretty generous with his time, not only on stage, but in giving media interviews promoting his appearances. The Towanda News wrote on August 13, 1969 about a concert in Buffalo. Evidently, it accomplished its goal as the Buffalo Philharmonic is still with us.

Can Jack Benny Save Philharmonic?
By JIM FLATEAU
NEWS Staff Writer
Is Jack Benny willing to help save the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra? The answer appears to be a definite "yes," providing both parties can get together and guarantee "a fairly large turnout."
The fiddle-playing comedian said in an exclusive interview with the Tonawanda NEWS yesterday afternoon that he would like nothing better than to give a fund-raising concert with the financially troubled Buffalo Philharmonic.
Mr. Benny, who is appearing this week at Melody Fair, made known his feelings — as did his business manager — during a press conference at the Skylon Tower in Niagara Falls, Ont. The 39-year-old comedian (or is it 75?) said, "If I honestly thought my coming here would raise a substantial sum for the orchestra and our schedules could be brought together, I would definitely want to come."
His business manager, Irving Fein, added "We have tried to come to Buffalo, but haven't been able to work it out. We are waiting for the Buffalo people to ask us and offer a workable plan that fits into our schedule. And, if it can be shown our appearance would be beneficial, we would come."
Arlington Zetty, Buffalo Philharmonic manager, is all for it.
"We absolutely do want Mr. Benny to come to Buffalo," he said. "We cannot think of anything that would draw a bigger crowd or do so much to help our financial situation."

Said Jack Benny:
"I think there is a good chance that we'll come to Buffalo, maybe now that things have changed. It would be good to come here — if we could take in money.
"And I think it could be done. If I were in any way assured that we would raise money, we would definitely be interested.
"The dollars are needed, but it takes an orchestra that knows how to bring those dollars in!
"In the past, we have rarely played to less than a full house in this type of concert. In Oakland, whose concert hall has 2,100 seats, we raised $200,000 in one night. This was not only through ticket sales, but donations, gifts and all the rest.
"A sum of $35,000 and up sounds good. Can Buffalo raise that much? I really couldn't say, as I am not familiar with the situation.
"Yet if they want us to come, we are interested. But is it worth our time to come here and put on a performance raising $20,000 when we can be in, say Cleveland, and raise $100,000 for their orchestra?
"You have to have priorities, you must decide that in doing these concerts, those with the greatest potential should be handled first. "Then, the ones with lower potential. I don't know. Where, you tell me, does Buffalo rate itself?"
Jack Benny has played with many symphony and philharmonic orchestras throughout the nation, charging for his own personal expenses only. He simply requests that the money raised be used to help build the sponsoring orchestra.
Mr. Fein said:
"We once had a date to appear in Buffalo, but working with the people there, we just couldn't get down to details and arrive at specifics.
"After all, why do you ask me if Jack will appear? Mr. Zetty has my phone number. He could call me. He should be showing some initiative, he should be getting hold of me! Buffalo should be doing the asking.
"Also, the city does not support the orchestra. In order for us to come here, we must feel the city is interested. Otherwise, will any money be raised for the orchestra? Will there have been a reason for Jack to come?
"If we came to Buffalo, we might get $30,000 - if we are lucky, real lucky. But if we come, we want to know that Jack's being here helps make money that will be returned to the music industry.
"If we play with Buffalo's orchestra, we must be able to fit it in our schedule and know we will do some good." Mr. Zetty said:
"We would love to have Mr. Benny here — we need him as much as we want him. The orchestra, at present has a deficit of $550,000 — the largest of any orchestra in the country. If Mr. Benny is willing to come, we will re-arrange our own schedule to coincide with his."
On April 21, the boards of directors of the Buffalo and Rochester Philharmonic Orchestras agreed to study the possibility of a merger to combat the "staggering financial problems" each organization now faces.
With a $1.25-million budget for this year, the Buffalo orchestra's musicians, area businessmen and music-loving citizens organized a "Save the Philharmonic" drive earlier this year. The goal: To keep the Buffalo Philharmonic in Buffalo.

A Trip to Dimension Zero

1966 was a pretty good year for some animation studios. In California, Hanna-Barbera announced retail sales of $160,000,000 (Variety, Oct. 25) and construction of a new wing of 16,000 square feet (Variety, Nov. 30), while Warner Bros reactivated its own cartoon studio (Variety, May 17). And in New York, things were humming along for Joe Oriolo.

He had found success in the growing TV cartoon field in the late ‘50s with Felix the Cat, even though Felix the Cat Productions claimed insolvency in 1961. Oriolo was vice president and executive producer. The Felix company had plans. Sponsor magazine of September 5, 1960 revealed some cartoons you never saw.

Felix the Cat Creations will try to quadruplicate the success of its Felix series now being handled by Trans-Lux TV.
Pilots are now being shown for three new cartoon series: The Kewpies, Don Poco, and Albert and Cholmondeley — pronounced, of course, Chumley.

Oriolo moved on to set up Adventure Cartoon Productions, which inflicted the iron-thighed Mighty Hercules on syndicated TV in 1963. Reaching ever lower in 1966, his studio came up with “Johnny Cypher in the Dimension Zero.” Ol’ Johnny has the distinction of making Jerry Beck’s list of the Worst Cartoons of All Time (see Jerry’s clarifying note in the comments).

There was a ready pool of veteran theatrical animators in New York City at the time but Oriolo elected to have the cartoons animated in Japan, presumably to save money. According to Variety of Oct. 29, 1969, George Kashdan wrote the stories, just as he did with Herc, did with Herc (Newton, get offa my blog). Some of the voices were handled by Gene Allen, who later appeared on “Taro, Giant of the Jungle.”

Oriolo had been syndicating cartoons through Trans-Lux but he worked out a deal with a different company for Johnny.

New series of "Astro-Drama" color cartoons, "Johnny Cypher In Dimension-Zero," will be syndicated by Seven Arts Television Aug. 1. The company will place 130 six-minute segments in worldwide distribution. (Variety, July 26, 1966)

A new syndication cartoon for kid slotting, "Johnny Cypher in Dimension Zero," is on the launch pad via Seven Arts TV. Color series of 130 six-minute segments is being produced by Oriolo Film Studios. It's fifth new syndication property to bow this year from 7A. (Variety, July 27, 1966).

Ads such as the one above touted some of the stations that had signed to run Johnny. Trade publications in 1967 mentioned he had been sold in Peru and Mexico.

I asked Charles Brubaker, who is knowledgeable on the subject of Japanese cartoon studios of that era, where Johnny was animated. His response:

Japan Tele-Cartoons, which is an English name for TV Doga (the name literally means "TV Animation"). Also, Children's Corner, which did some anime in the 1960s.
Japan Tele-Cartoons probably handled most (all) of the animation/art side.
Several Japanese sources also list "Studio Bees" as another studio involved, but I have no idea what they are or what else they worked on. Likely one of the smaller subcontract studio in Tokyo that handled extra work for larger studios.

Poor Johnny didn’t get a lot of ink in the popular press. Perhaps it’s because Seven Arts would soon have its own cartoon studio to promote after formally taking over Warner Bros following a stockholders vote on July 14, 1967 and didn’t really need him. But here’s a piece mentioning the cartoon from the Buffalo Courier-Express of May 20, 1967. I’ll bite my tongue on the matter of cartoon violence and children other than to say that as soon as the network TV industry realised what a gold mine cartoons were, it suddenly got panicky as it always does when it comes to potentially losing profits and started listening to clean-up-cartoons crusaders, to the detriment of the cartoons themselves.

U.S., Japan to Exchange More Children’s Shows
By JACK ALLEN
A NEW FEATURE of children’s programs next fall will be a stream of shows exchanged between Japan and the United States.
Contrary to our myths of U.S. superiority in all fields, the danger seems to lie in the possible effects of U.S. programs on Japanese children, rather than vice versa.
In the matter of violence, for instance, it was recently pointed out by Morris Ernst, author and critic, that in one year of U.S. TV viewing — mostly aimed at youngsters — there were 10,000 murders depicted. This was 2,000 more than had been committed in the United States that year.
ONE OF THE LARGEST syndicators of foreign programs here and U.S. programs overseas is Seven Arts Television.
A recent interview with a Seven Arts official in New York revealed some interesting points about exchanges in TV shows internationally.
The syndicators are currently working with Japan on two series, “Marine Boy” and “Johnny Cypher in Dimension Zero,” both animated offerings.
ON VIOLENCE, the official said, “it has to be kept to a minimum if you expect to make the show saleable overseas. And even in animated shows, mini-mini-skirts draw objections from parents who, at least sometimes, control what children watch.
“In Belgium and in the Scandinavian countries, parents’ groups are very watchful, and the governments themselves are very conscious of standards of acceptability in children’s programs.”
“Still,” continued the Seven Arts man, “American-produced programs have been very successful in cautious Japan. Top-rated ones include the Andy Griffith show, “Lucy,” “Flipper,” “Bonanza,” and even "The Man From U.N.C.L.E.”
“THE JAPANESE ARE very big for cartoons of the type you see on U.S. stations Saturday mornings. They’re sending a lot of theirs over here, too. “The Japanese are superb mechanics in the field of animation, which in this country it very costly.”

How “superb” were they? Judge for yourself by looking into Dimension Zero yourself. If you can sit through annoying kids chanting the less-than-charming theme song.

More Than a Piece of Cake

Tom attempts to hide endless copies of incriminating photos from being seen by his suburban owners in “Tom’s Photo Finish” (released Nov. 1, 1957). One snapshot gets in between layers of a cake George’s wife is baking. Here’s how Tom destroys the evidence in ten consecutive drawings.



Six animators are credited: Ken Muse, Lew Marshall, Bill Schipek, Jack Carr, Herman Cohen and Ken Southworth.

The Hollywood Reporter of November 22, 1955 gave names to the humans: Mr. and Mrs. Q. Perhaps it’s because the husband looks like Robert Q. Lewis. The wife is Julie Bennett. Variety reported on January 31, 1955 and again August 27, 1956 that she had been hired to voice cartoons for MGM. Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera signed her again in 1959 to play Sagebrush Sal on Quick Draw McGraw, but she’s probably best known as the voice of Cindy Bear (“Cutest b’ar in these h’yar parts - Julie Bennett inked to play a running role as Yogi Bear’s girl friend,” Variety, Dec. 30, 1960). Sadly, her whereabouts are unknown today.

The Dog-Rooster of Mars

Warped settings and odd characters adorn the 1937 cartoon “Porky in Wackyland” but, as is usual in the case of animation, it was all done before.

In the 1930 cartoon “Mars,” Oswald the rabbit ends up on the red planet with a bunch of strange creatures and sparse backdrops with weird plants. One is a pig-kangaroo, another is a dog-rooster. Their presence is the gag.



Both Tex Avery and Pinto Colvig worked on this, so perhaps some of they’re responsible for some of these.

How Hodge White Helped Fred Allen (and Vice Versa)

Anyone familiar with Allen’s Alley of the mid to late 1940s might not recognise Fred Allen’s earlier radio programmes. By the time Allen gave up his radio show in 1949, he had been locked into a formula—a chat with dumb-bell Portland, the man-on-the-street interview (the Alley) and a routine with a guest star.

Some ten years earlier, Allen had an hour-long programme filled with non-professionals (either performing in a contest or giving an opinion on a topic of the day) set around a “town hall” motif. After a brief opening of a parade of characters, Allen joked it up in the form of community announcements. For a while, one of the weekly announcements involved Hodge White. While Allen went to great pains to invent names and avoid lawsuits, White was a real person, born on November 16, 1880. He ran a general store ten minutes from Boston and was lame due to a spinal injury.

Some enterprising reporters discovered there really was a Hodge White and there were several stories about him. We’ll pick one from the Syracuse American of March 21, 1937.

DEALING WITH DOYLE
By J. L. (Dinty) Doyle
BOSTON, March 20.—Radio listeners from coast to coast every Wednesday night hear Fred Allen talk about one Hodge White, grocer.
Hodge White is no myth, ladies and gentlemen.
He's in business at 891 Dorchester ave., in Dorchester, about ten minutes out of Boston.
He has been there for 25 years and knows everybody in the neighborhood and everybody knows him and calls him "Hodge."
A new neon sign is going up on the front of the store.
Hodge is going to capitalize on the fame Allen has given him.
And how he loves to talk about Allen.
He knew the top radio comedian as "Johnny Sullivan," when Johnny was a kid playing around Grafton street and the Strandway Pack. Fred Allen was born Sullivan and christened John Florence.
Hodge White recalls that Allen was born in Somerville, went to grammar school in Alston, got his diploma at Boston's High School of Commerce and then went on the stage.

Hodge insists that he helped Allen along in his theatrical career. You see Allen was a juggler and he practiced with White's vegetables and eggs.
White has a little establishment, maybe 22 feet wide, flanked on one side by an empty store which was formerly occupied by a chain grocery and the other by an establishment which boasts "Flats Fixed, 35 cents."
There are a funeral parlor and a barber shop directly opposite, and a liquor store on the corner.
But it seems that the boys who hang around Hodge White's store dont drink. They are what is known as good, clean young fellers and they all remember Allen as one of that type, "a good boy," those neighbors say.
Incidentally that empty store next to White's is eloquent tribute to the loyalty of the neighborhood to the White institution. His trade doubled when the chain store opened. They haven't anything against the chains, but they like Hodge.
Sure, He Charges
It is one of those old-fashioned places, with an ancient stove around which the boys sit these cool evenings. The customers help themselves, if Hodge or his assistant, "Mame" Carr, are busy, and Hodge marks the purchases down on the "slip." Sure, he charges.
Half a dozen pictures of Allen and Portland Hoffa are on the walls. There is one of which Hodge is particularly proud. It shows Primo Camera holding up Allen, and the inscription reads: "To Hodge—See What I Did to Primo—Fred." He has another which he is having done in oils.
Mr. Allen refers in his broadcasts to "Mame." She's an institution, too, and has been tending store for White these 16 years.
Allen now and then speaks of Bill McDonough and Eddie Sheehan over the radio. In other days he used to play with those fellows. McDonough, incidentally, is extremely proud of three store teeth, right out in front.
When Allen was Johnny Sullivan he was a pretty fair pitcher. McDonough forgot to duck a fast one and the ball caught him flush on the mouth, knocking out three teeth.
Mr. Allen paid the dentist. McDonough recalls with pride that the bill was $85, "and Allen never complained."
Sheehan is now a fireman, and he's another of those neighbors who swears by Allen.
They All Love Allen
It really is heart-warming to hear them speak of the nationally-famous comedian who regales with his merry quips every Wednesday night.
Let's call White as a witness again:
"Why Allen always saw the funny side of life—if things weren't merry, he'd start something. He was always putting on a show in his yard. He'd get the kids together, and he'd make the announcements, and the high point of the show always was his own juggling act."
"Why I can see him light now placing three tomatoes in McDonough's hands, turning him around three times and yelling, 'Bet you can't hit me,' and McDonough would let fly—the tomatoes would land everywhere except on Allen.
"And you ought to see this place when Fred comes up here to visit his aunts around the corner—he always did go for their cooking. Why, the kids just hang around, and Fred sits in here with them and autographs all day.
"Of course, he's famous now, and he can't do the things he wants to. I'll bet if he had his way he wouldn't go to Maine for a vacation. He'd come right here and go swimming with his old gang. But he can't do that any more. The traffic cops would object to the crowds he'd draw.
"But he'll never change. He'll still be the same regular guy he always was—yes, sir—Johnny Sullivan was a GOOD boy!"
New Sign Up Soon
This Hodge White is a moonfaced, affable fellow, always grinning, who believes in being nice to people. They'll tell you around that Dorchester comer that in depression times Hodge saw to it that all his old customers got their groceries regularly whether they could pay or not.
"They'll pay." said Hodge.
They did.
For Hodge is in one of those old-time "solid" neighborhoods. where all the houses and flats are let and people don't move often. "Why, there are families who have lived in this neighborhood for 60 years," says Hodge. "All fine people, too."
Hodge has never seen an Allen broadcast, but he never missed one by ear, and he virtually shuts up shop from 9 to 10 of a Wednesday night. People just wait for their milk or cigars or eggs—and Hodge is particularly proud of those eggs.
They are strictly fresh, right from the farm—and they're from the same place he got the eggs Fred Allen used to juggle.
About that new Neon sign Hodge is planning. For a long time he ducked newsmen, never talked about his friendship for Allen, believed that he might embarrass Fred by capitalizing upon the fame his old pal has given him.
Allen was in Dorchester last Summer and told Hodge to climb on the prosperity van and get some value out of the radio advertising. So if you're driving along Dorchester ave. in another week you'll see the big sign: "Hodge White, Delicatessen."

Charles Hodge White was still alive when World War Two broke out but, by then, Allen’s show had changed and references to him had vanished. Whether Hodge himself vanished is unclear. We’ve been unable to discover when he passed away.