Radio That's Zany and Sometimes Purplish

“The feeling that all this has been heard somewhere before hung heavy thru-out the premiere,” wrote Billboard’s Sam Chase in giving a pretty lukewarm review to a new radio quiz show in 1947. It turned out Chase couldn’t have been more wrong. The show was “You Bet Your Life,” and it spawned a different kind of radio, and then TV, quiz show—where the game wasn’t as important than the dialogue between the witty host and the somewhat befuddled contestants. It spawned similar shows because of the one, the only Groucho.

Groucho Marx’s career hadn’t been going a lot of places for a while by 1947. He made some movies that Marx Brothers fans would rather forget. He starred on a radio show (“Blue Ribbon Time”) that didn’t put him anywhere near the Benny-Hope-Skelton echelon of air performers. But Hope’s producer, John Guedel, and Marx put together a formula that worked. A formula based on wit. It was a far cry from toothy Bert Parks screeching “Stop the music!”

Groucho was known for many things in the Marx Brothers films. One of them was his greasepaint moustache. When “You Bet Your Life” reached television (where it really took off after bouncing around on three radio networks in four seasons) in 1950, Groucho had real lip-hair. If you thought he grew it strictly for television realism, guess again. Here’s an Associated Press column from December 1, 1948 which reveals he had already done it, and why he did it.

GROUCHO DOFFS HIS FAMOUS MUSTACHE, MULLS “OTHELLO”
By BOB THOMAS
AP Movie Writer

HOLLYWOOD—Another landmark has vanished from the Hollywood scene — Groucho Marx’s painted mustache.
The famed swath of grease has disappeared from Groucho’s pan. In its place is a home-grown Anthony Eden-like brush with which the comic appears quite happy. “It might open new possibilities for me,” he commented. “Who knows — next season I might play ‘Othello.’”
The old grease mustache helped to bring him fame, but it became a monster to Groucho’s ambitions to play fairly legitimate roles, he said.
“I couldn’t play with real actors when I had it on,” he complained. “It gave an unreal quality to any scene I would be in.”
• • •
GROUCHO’S ENTHUSIASM for the new brush stems from the fact that he doesn’t like making Marx brothers pictures. Ask him how he feels about them and you get a reaction that makes you believe he was properly tagged:
“They’re murder. You go through a lot of strenuous physical labor and spend all your time worrying about new routines and writing half the dialogue.”
Then ask him about his pictures alone, such as his current “It’s Only Money?”:
“It’s burglary. I almost feel ashamed to take the money. You’re handed a script and all you have to do is read the lines.”
• • •
YOU MIGHT JUDGE from this that there will be no more Marx brothers films—which is something the boys say each time they make one. Groucho is definite about this:
“There will be no more Marx brothers pictures — except for ‘The Marx Brothers Story.’ All we have to do now is find four Larry Parkses.”
• • •
GROUCHO GREW the mustache after the Broadway flop of “Time for Elizabeth,” which he wrote with Norman Krasna. But don’t get the idea it was merely a disguise to leave town with. He still thinks the play was good and he has no kind words for the New York drama critics.
“Never have I read such venomous, vitriolic reviews,” he commented. “They seem to resent the fact that I didn’t inject my own sardonic, sarcastic character into it. After all, I wasn’t in the play—I was the co-author.”
Groucho said he was going to fight the critics, but decided not to. He’ll stick to movies and his successful air show. Concerning radio, he concluded: “That’s like stealing money, too.”

We opened this post with a quote from critic Sam Cohen. Lest you think he was completely off-base about “You Bet Your Life,” he said this toward the end of his review: “What prevented the show from falling into complete mediocrity was the energetic spieling of Groucho, whose zany, if sometime purplish comments brightened the proceedings.”

It’s debatable whether the game portion of the programme could be called “complete mediocrity,” but Groucho’s “zany, if sometimes purplish comments” are still pretty funny today. And they gave the show two Emmys and a Peabody and kept it on the air for 13 seasons.

Return With Us Now To Those Forgotten Days of Yester-Year

A newscaster of my acquaintance, a veteran of 50-plus years in broadcasting, one day came across a piece of copy from the entertainment wire in his line-up. “I’ve fixed the typo,” he told the editor. He had helpfully changed the first name of a singer to “Alex.”

The singer was Axl Rose.

That’s right. He had no idea who Axl Rose was.

I thought of that story when all the ridicule broke out over some Kanye West fan(s) being completely oblivious about who Paul McCartney is.

And I thought about it some more when I read this recent post on Martin Gram’s blog quizzing young people about pop culture icons from a day that, in some cases, isn’t in the past.

I suppose you can shake your head after reading it, but ignorance isn’t restricted to a certain age group. And if someone doesn’t have an interest in something, they probably can’t be blamed for not knowing about it.

But when you’re on social media, it’s pretty easy to use the same computer you’re on to look up a little bit of information before rushing to post that All-Important Opinion That Everyone Must Know About.

Popcorn Chicken

Buses full of mice? Must be a Terrytoon!

Here’s a gag from “Popcorn” (1931). A bus full of mice runs over a chicken in the road. The accident leaves behind some eggs. Another bus full of mice runs over the eggs. They hatch and start dancing in time to the xylophone music.



What any of this has to do with popcorn, I don’t know. Thanks to Jerry Beck for posting a nice old British print of this cartoon.

The Endless Rockabye

“Sing it to me again, will ya, Charlie?” asks the tired old dog of the tired old polar bear, who have grown aged atop Rockabye Point. So the bear takes a deep breath, turns his head and sings.



“The Legend of Rockabye Point” was one of four cartoons Tex Avery directed for Walter Lantz. Mike Maltese may have received the story credit, but the idea of the bear trying not to wake the dog throughout the cartoon is pure Avery and reused from his MGM days.

Ray Abrams, La Verne Harding and Don Patterson are the animators. Dal McKennon (without credit) supplies the voices.

Magoo in the Comics, January 1965

Here are the Mr. Magoo dailies from this month 50 years ago.

I won’t say much about them, other than to note that two of the strips have Magoo thinking quickly after realising he’s mistaken something for something else. I quite like that.

Someone will know whether the artwork is by Pete Alvarado. It’s very nice. In a couple of places, the incidental characters look like they came from a Hanna-Barbera cartoon.

The strips start with January 4, 1965 and end with January 30, 1965. Click on each week to see it in full size.

That Ol’ Man Benny

You may have heard a tale that top syndicated radio columnist John Crosby once asked for a copy of an extremely funny Jack Benny script and was aghast to find it contained nothing funny, just “Hmmmm,” and “Well!”

That isn’t quite the way it went and, as proof, I give to you the Crosby column in question that appeared in newspapers in early 1947. He was reviewing the broadcast of December 29, 1946. It’s yet another show where, in the second half, Jack gets jealous and petulant at someone else’s fame. The first half features a running gag about Rochester mixing up an alcoholic eggnog brew with a reputation for potency. Benny’s writers set up the gag in their usual great fashion. Nobody wants to touch the stuff, finding comic reasons not to do so. Finally we come to Phil Harris who, after a brief pause, enthusiastically demands to be led to the stuff (the gag is topped by Harris complaining about the egg mixed in with the bourbon).

Crosby doesn’t include the whole gag in his column. He seems to be in a bit of a conundrum. He isn’t all that crazy about the script, but loves the Benny show so much he can’t be moved to stamp it with the dismissive criticism he pasted on other radio shows.

RADIO IN REVIEW
The Jack Benny Mystery
By JOHN CROSBY
NEW YORK, Jan. 6.—One of the most mysterious things in the world, at least to, me, is the strange quality of genius that separates a good comedy script from a bad one. A couple of Sundays ago, Jack Benny offered his fans a program which to my mind was as hilarious as radio can ever get. Out of curiosity I sent to the West Coast for the script to determine, if I could, just what curious essence Mr. Benny had blown into this script to make it that funny. After reading the Benny script, I’m as much at sea as ever. Even allowing for Benny’s great gift for pacing, inflection and timing, I still don’t see why the darn thing should have made me laugh like that.
In order that you may, if you like, share my bewilderment I append below an abbreviated version of the Benny script. You’ll just have to take my word for it that the broadcast version was very, very comic.
● ● ●
Rochester: Dat ol’ man River,
Dat ol’ man River,
He must know sumpin’, but don’t say nuthin’,
He Just keeps rollin’, he keeps on rollin’ Along.
Ol’ man Benny, dat ol’ man Benny,
He won’t waste nuthin’, and don’t spend nuthin’,
He just keeps rollin’, he keeps on rollin’ along.
You should see him sweat and strain,
When he spends a nickel, he’s wracked with pain,
Benny: (Off) Rochester!
Rochester: Tote dat barge, lift dat bale.
Benny: Rochester!
Rochester: Git a little drunk an’ you lan’ in jail.
Benny: Rochester, I’ve been calling you.
Rochester: Sorry, boss, I was carried away with my own voice.
Benny: Oh, fine.
Rochester: Well, I’m becoming quite a popular singer. You know they call Bing Crosby, the Groaner?
Benny: Uh huh.
Rochester: And they call Andy Russell the Swooner?
Benny: I know. And what do they call you?
Rochester: The Razor’s Edge.
Benny: You sound more like the Yearling. Now, Rochester, my cast should be here soon for rehearsal. This is the holiday season and I’d like to serve them the eggnog I told you to make this morning. You did make it, didn’t you?
Rochester: Yes, sir.
Benny: Is it good?
Rochester: Wanna smell my breath?
Benny: No, thanks, I’m on the wagon. But you know, Rochester, that’s a strange drink. I wonder why anyone would ever think of mixing eggs and bourbon.
Rochester: It’s psychological, boss.
Benny: Psychological?
Rochester: Yeah. The eggs make you think you’re getting something very healthful.
Benny: Uh huh.
Rochester: And the bourbon makes that fact unimportant.
Benny: Well, that’s logical. By the way, Rochester, how much eggnog did you make?
Rochester: About 250 gallons.
Benny: 250 gallons! For goodness sake, Rochester, I want to drink it not bathe in it.
Rochester: Well, to each his own.
Benny: All right. All right. Make some sandwiches, too.
(Door Opens)
Livingston: Hello, Jack.
Benny: Hello, Mary. Come in. You’re the first one here.
Livingston: Jack, how come you called rehearsal so early?
Benny: Well, Mary, to tell you the truth, I have a date tonight.
Livingston: With whom?
Benny: Gladys Zybisco.
Livingston: Gladys Zybisco? Oh, Jack, surely you can do better than that.
Benny: Look, Mary, Gladys is very nice. She may not be the most beautiful girl in the world but she has a nice figure.
Livingston: I know, but does she have to walk that way?
Benny: Mary, that’s not her fault. She’s near-sighted and she anticipates the curb in the middle of the block. By the way, Mary, would you like a glass of eggnog?
Livingston: Sure, Jack, I’d love it. Wait a minute! Who made the eggnog?
Benny: Rochester.
Livingston: Uh, uh.
Benny: Why, what’s the matter?
Livingston: Well, last Christmas I tasted some of Rochester’s egg nog and the next thing I knew I was at the Rose Bowl game.
Benny: Oh, you saw the game?
Livingston: Saw it nothing. I was playing left tackle for Alabama.
● ● ●
That is just a sample of the Benny dialogue. How he manages to wrest so many laughs out of such harmless stuff is his own deep secret.

If you listen to the version of the show that’s circulating on-line, it doesn’t follow the script above. In 1946, two versions of the programme were still being made, one broadcast for the east coast then a second live show for the west.

The “secret” Crosby talks about wasn’t much of a secret. Benny always said not all his shows were great but he hoped people would tune in to hear what the characters were up to. The show had been on the air long enough that even casual listeners recognised individual character traits. They were ready to laugh as soon as those foibles came through the speaker. Combine that with expert delivery. It’s something a script will never show you.

Dot ist Gut Cartoon?

Characters with thick accents adorned newspaper comic pages around the turn of the 20th Century, no doubt reflecting the large influx of immigrants into the U.S. and their manner of speaking English. Everyone had a good laugh over the funny way each other spoke English, both in real life and in the comics. One of the most popular of the accent-filled comic strips was the Katzenjammer Kids.

We’ll avoid going into a detailed history of the comic and of its twin, the Captain and the Kids. Suffice it to say attempts were made at screen stardom for both. The Katzenjammers were owned by Hearst, which owned an animation studio, so Hearst put them in silent cartoons for the first time in 1916 (the first title I’ve found is “The Captain Goes A-Swimming”, released December 11, 1916). And in what critics generally concede to have been a fiasco, rights to the Captain and the Kids were bought by MGM by May 1937 and the series petered out after 15 cartoons and several changes in cartoon studio middle management. You can read more in this post.



But the Katzenjammers/Captain comics were still popular and when television started expanding after World War Two, the idea of animated TV cartoons mixed with dollar signs in the heads of many would-be producers. And among the vehicles they considered were Hans und Fritz.

Enter a company called World Video, Inc.

The fact you’ve never heard of them shows what a non-powerhouse they were when it came to television though, in reviewing a few trade publications, they did syndicate an eclectic mix of programmes. Variety reported on December 31, 1947 that “the outfit was granted a New York state charter this week in Albany. Office will be set up in Paris under the direction of Henry White, former U. S. Government staffer in the French capital. Shows will be produced and filmed there and then shipped to the U. S.” The company’s vice president was John Steinbeck. Yes, that John Steinbeck. Its first programme was “Floor Show,” a 30-minute variety series with Eddie Conlon that was quickly sold to NBC. And it had children’s programming in mind; Broadcasting magazine reported on July 12, 1948 it had completed a puppet adventure show called “The Adventures of Billy Bravo.”



Here’s a trade ad from March 1951 that shows World Video hawking “The Captain and the Kids.” Whether it was syndicating the old silent cartoons or planned to make brand-new ones is unclear. World Video had been purchased in November 1950 by Foley-Brockway. Finally, Variety reported on May 7, 1952 that the Board of the company was calling it quits after three years of turmoil. That may have sealed the fate of the cartoons.



That wasn’t the end of the Captain, the Inspector, Hans and Fritz on TV, at least potentially. Above you see another trade ad from the William Morris Agency. It wasn’t selling a cartoon series, though, according to this story in Variety of February 6, 1952:

TV Comics' Vidpix
William Morris Agency has made a pilot film of a series to be called "TV Comics" which will comprise three 10-minute segments of comic strips. Lined up for the strip are Katzenjammer Kids, Smoky Stover and Oaky Doaks. It'll be a puppet show. Deal is currently on for syndication of the strip in 2-4 stations in the Chicago area. Pact is still to be signed.

And with that, the Katzenjammer Kids disappeared from TV screens until 1971, when Filmation included them in part of “Archie’s TV Funnies.” By then, the kids were hardly stars of the newspaper comics section any more. Despite that, they’re still being syndicated today. They may not be animated, but they certainly are durable.

Divorce For Doris, aka Donna Douglas

“I think the country people will like us. Maybe the city people will feel a bit edgy—the show gets satiric at points.” With that statement, the star of a show weighed its future just before its debut in 1962. As things turned out, everyone but the critics loved it. The show was “The Beverly Hillbillies,” and the man musing about it to reporters for a spell was Buddy Ebsen.

Viewers overlooked the corn and clichés to get a half hour of satisfaction that decent folk really can get the better of the snooty, pretentious rich.

Even if the unbelievable antics left something to be desired, the casting couldn’t have been any better. And that brings us to the news being reported today that Donna Douglas, who played Elly May, has died. Douglas played her with a very wholesome sex appeal that was so innocent, it doesn’t seem like normally-uptight network censors were unnerved. As a youngin’ who watched reruns of the show daily for years, I liked the fact Elly May loved cats and taught one to swim (or, rather, Frank Inn did).

Perhaps the most interesting archived story I found on Douglas was in Parade magazine of February 23, 1964; Parade was a syndicated magazine supplement in weekend newspapers. It may be the most serious piece written about her.

DONNA DOUGLAS
PRETTIEST OF THE BEVERLY HILLBILLIES
By Arno Johansen
HOLLYWOOD
Many girls ruin their lives by marrying and having children too early—at 16, 17 or 18.
Entrapped by marriage, fearful of divorce, which in some cases is prohibited by their religion, they spend the rest of their days unrequited, unhappy, wondering from time to time how well they might have married had they only waited until they were more mature, more experienced, had developed more realistic criteria for judging good husband potential.
There are some girls of spunk and courage, however, who refuse to be defeated by an unhappy first marriage and subsequent childbirth. They try to work out their marital difficulties, but when they realize they've married the wrong man, children or no children, they obtain a divorce and set out to make a new life for themselves.

One such blue-eyed beauty who has done precisely that is Donna Douglas, 31 (real name—Doris Smith), who plays the role of Elly May Clampett in the Beverly Hillbillies, a low comedy series which at this writing is rated the nation's most popular television program.
When Donna was 17—or, as she so truthfully puts it, “when I was 17 going on 12”—she imagined herself in love with a handsome young man of the same age from Baton Rouge, La., named Roland Bourgeois, who today works as a repair man there for the Ace Appliance Company.
“Frankly,” she says, “we had no business gettin' married. All we had in common really was playin' baseball and basketball. I used to be a tomboy. We were much too young. But down home back then, no one seemed to frown on young marriage. That's what most girls think about. It's the thing to do almost without thinkin', and that's what we did.”
In 1949 Roland Bourgeois and Doris Smith were married in Baton Rouge at St. Gerard Majella church. Roland worked as a salesman for an auto parts manufacturer, and the young couple lived with the bride's parents. A few years later Roland was drafted into the Army and shipped overseas to Germany. By the time he returned in 1953, Donna was convinced their marriage was a mistake. Apparently, each had outgrown the other.
They stayed together for awhile, and in 1954 Donna gave birth to a son, Danny. Despite this, she was convinced she could not save her marriage and insisted upon a divorce.
“Today,” says Donna, “my son lives with my folks outside Baton Rouge. My daddy, who works for Esso, has a 23-acre spread, and Danny's got all the room in the world in which to play. He goes fishin' and huntin', and he's the happiest li'l ole boy you'd ever want to meet. I'm in touch with him all the time, and I know everything's goin' to work out just fine.”
DETERMINED TO HAVE CAREER

Ten years ago, however, at 21, when she filed for divorce, Donna Douglas wasn't quite so optimistic about the future. She was determined to have some career, but having been married in her last year at Redemptionist High School, she had no marketable skill.
Taking inventory of her virtues and faults, she decided that what she had to offer was beauty—large blue eyes, soft, luxuriant blonde hair, a flawless complexion and a well-turned figure. A girl with such physical attributes is a natural for modeling. It's difficult to make a living as a model in Baton Rouge, so Donna took what little money she had and headed for New York. This took guts, because she had never before traveled north of Shreveport.
In New York she moved into the Rehearsal Club, asked about modeling agencies, made the rounds and, because she is immensely photogenic—the wholesome, all-American type—she got jobs quickly, giving herself the name Tina Barron. Since many television programs require little or no acting talent, it was just one step up from modeling to TV.
Presently Donna became “The Letters Girl” on the Perry Como Show, “The Billboard Girl” on the Steve Allen Show—“one of those elbow-grabbers,” she declares, “you see on every daytime quiz program, the pretty girl who grabs the contestant by the elbow and leads him up to the microphone.”
When the newspaper reporters in New York were holding their annual By-Line Ball, they asked Donna if she would appear as Miss By-Line. Happily, she said yes, whereupon Ed Sullivan invited her to appear on one of his TV shows as "The By-Line Girl." Hollywood producer Hal Wallis happened to catch the show and, on the basis of Donna's beauty, brought her to Hollywood under a six-month contract, gave her the name Donna Douglas and gave her a few bit parts.

PERFECT FOR THE PART
In these parts, sweet and fragile-looking Donna failed to generate the sex appeal Wallis thought she possessed, so he dropped her. But she encountered no trouble in finding TV jobs. In one year in Hollywood she found 45 such jobs and gradually learned how to act.
Two years ago, when writer Paul Henning dreamed up the Beverly Hillbillies, he remembered Donna Douglas in Lover Come Back, a film she had made with Tony Randall. To him, she seemed perfect for the part of Elly May Clampett—a beautiful, rural, naive girl at home with animals and simple country folk. He tested and signed her, and ever since, Donna has risen in popularity along with the Beverly Hillbillies.
Today, despite her weekly salary of $750, she lives most economically in a small one-bedroom Hollywood apartment ($90 a month), sends money home for the support of her son, only a few weeks ago bought herself a Buick, puts on no airs, is liked and respected by everyone she works with.
Perpetually optimistic and quietly ambitious, Donna says: “What I've learned thus far is never to be discouraged by hard knocks. People must have faith in themselves and in God. I'm livin' proof that if you work with life, life will work with you. Just don't be afraid to meet it.”

In hunting around entertainment web sites looking for confirmation about the death, I came across a gossip piece on a reality show trash-lebrity named Mama June. It shows you how much TV hillbillies have changed. Call me old-fashioned, but I’ll take the friendly and genuine Donna Douglas any day.

My thanks to Armando Gomes who passed on the news earlier today

A Devil of a Cartoon

The devil disguises himself as a tycoon at a swank dinner between a business baron and John Q. Public in “The Devil and John Q,” a 1952 John Sutherland anti-Communism short.

Here are some poses as the devil (devil = Godless Communism) tries to con the pair into keeping profits high (“and keep labour right under our thumb”), then reacts to John Q’s counter argument about high prices causing inflation. See the eye stretch as the businessman is shocked.



Variety explained a little about Sutherland’s operation at the time this short was made. MGM had released six of Sutherland’s shorts before their deal was quietly ended. The last Sutherland cartoon put into theatres by Metro was “Inside Cackle Corners” as of November 10, 1951. This story was published on February 28, 1952.

Industrial Film Prod’n Booms For Sutherland
In an expansion of industrial film activities, John Sutherland Productions is prepping a 45-minute feature for National Carbon Co., and a 30-minute feature for Kaiser Aluminum & Chemical Co. Carbon Co. picture will be filmed in color, on subject of industrial public relations, and is for use by its sponsor both on TV and before groups. Kaiser film will be in 16m Kodachrome, and combo live-action and animation.
Sutherland is now doing final editing on an animated film turned out in Technicolor for the NY Stock Exchange, tagged “What Makes Us Tick.” Two additional Technicolor animation shorts also are being started for program which Metro in the past has released. First is “Dear Uncle,” dealing with taxes, and second, “The Devil and John Q,” on inflation.
Three previous shorts in this series received awards from Freedom’s Foundation in Valley Forge, for achievements showing the American way of life. Trio included “Make Mine Freedom,” which won the award in 1949; “Albert in Blunderland,” 1950 winner; and “Why Play Leapfrog,” 1951 winner.

The animation in this short was handled by Arnold Gillespie, Emery Hawkins, Bill Higgins and Russ Van Neida. There’s a great opening theme with blaring trumpets by Les Baxter. Sutherland seems to have had a stock company of voice actors around this time. Frank Nelson is terrific as the devil. I don’t know who is voicing John Q, but you can hear Bud Hiestand, Herb Vigran and someone I’m pretty sure is Harry Morgan (as Abe Lincoln) on the soundtrack.

New Year's Eve Killed

“The trophy room,” declares narrator Frank Graham in ‘The House of Tomorrow,’ “contains many exhibits of the hunt.” The camera then pans across a Johnny Johnsen background of some important “kills,” ending with a New Year’s Eve pun (accompanied by a shaky version of “Auld Lang Syne” in the background).



I suspect there were animators who were quite familiar with that last drawing (a somewhat similar white label on the bottle could be found on Walker’s DeLuxe). And the sequence takes up 16 seconds of screen time with no animation, meaning Fred Quimby was probably celebrating the cost-savings.

Here’s hoping your 2015 will be full of Tex Avery-like fun.