The Screwy Door

“You have to catch me first,” challenges Screwy Squirrel to Lonesome Lenny. So the chase is on.

Here’s Tex Avery’s first chase sight-gag. If you ask how this can happen, you cannot be a Tex Avery fan.



Walt Clinton has joined the Avery unit from Disney by this point. Others getting animation credits on this 1945 release are Ray Abrams, Preston Blair and Ed Love. Only Clinton remained until the unit disbanded in March 1953.

Heeza Liar and His Friends (No Lie)

It’s always a time for celebration when old cartoons are properly restored and released on DVD, and there is a great release to tell you about.

(Note: I am not associated with this DVD. I don’t even get a free copy. I haven’t seen it, either, but point it out in the public interest).

I won’t go into the numbers about how few films from the silent era still survive, especially short films. But one man who has spent a great deal of his life rescuing prints of silent cartoons is Tommy Stathes. And he’s garnered a nice collection of silents that has been restored as best as possible and released on DVD.

His Cartoon Roots—The Bray Studios focuses on the work of what, arguably, was the first commercially successful animation studio. John L. Bray opened his own studio in 1913 and supplied cartoons from artists on a rotating basis that were part of a screen magazine released by a number of companies—Paramount and Goldwyn to name two. Many of the famous names of animation worked for Bray before striking out on their own—Max Fleischer, Walter Lantz, Paul Terry and Pat Sullivan among them.

Alas, this DVD doesn’t feature my favourite silent character; Felix the Cat is still tied up under copyright, I imagine. You do get Colonel Heeza Liar, the first film cartoon character who starred in a series; Carl Anderson’s The Police Dog; Lantz’s first star, Dinky Doodle—two hours of cartoons in all. For anyone interested in the early days of animation, this collection would seem essential. Find out more about it at this Amazon link. My congratulations to Tom and his team of experts who worked on this.

On My Way To the Grave

If Fred Allen was ever a happy, optimistic person, he never let that side of his personality show in interviews. Something was always wrong. And, generally, Allen was right about what was wrong.

He constantly found fault with the radio industry—networks, sponsors, ratings, even studio audiences. The title of his book Treadmill to Oblivion leaves you with the feeling that a morose Allen believed all his entertaining was, in the long term, really for naught.

Here’s Allen speaking to a friendly columnist at PM in an interview published on October 4, 1946. At the time he, arguably, may have been at the peak of his radio career, thanks to his Allen’s Alley segment. His comments about formats are interesting. He mentions programmes copying the Jack Benny format at one time (one of his sponsors had demanded the same thing of him in the ‘30s) and then copying Fibber McGee and Molly. The funny thing is Benny himself was pretty much doing the Fibber format by the end of his radio career, necessitated by the departure of Phil Harris and the reticence of Mary Livingstone to appear. Instead of a gang around a microphone, Benny ended up talking individually with what was left of his cast, just as Fibber and Molly chatted with stooges who individually came and went into their living room during the course of the half hour.

Wandering in Allen's Alley
By SEYMOUR PECK
Fred Allen, busy getting his own show ready for its bow this Sunday, took time out to be a guest on Information Please the night before last. Right afterwards he gave us a fast, 20-minute interview before hurrying back to the job of sweating out a program for Sunday.
As Allen settled himself on a folding chair at the engineer's booth of the studio, we said it was good of him to see us, since we knew how little time he allowed right now for anything but work. "It's all right," Allen said in his customarily dry way. "I'm just stopping by on my way to the grave." Two men sitting in the booth laughed. Allen did not smile at all. "Just passing through," he went on. "Another year should do it."
Radio 'Drudgery'
Allen recently called radio work "drudgery." Was it true he might quit radio at the end of this season to return to the stage? Allen said it was possible. "I've been sick," he explained. "I've had high blood pressure for several years. It doesn't improve as I get older. I'm half as old as a century plant. And I don't want to drop dead just to make the Joke of the Night in the New York Post. I consider that a dubious distinction. So whenever the doctor says enough . . ." Why did Allen look on radio as drudgery?
"You can't relax," he replied. "You just can't if you're going to maintain a standard week after week. For years I did an hour show every week. That's like doing one act of a play. But a playwright can take three months to do just one act. In radio you have to turn it out and it has to be good if you're going to be fair with people.
"Some of the comedians in radio come from the theater—Benny, Hope, myself. Our standards are a little different from those of the comedian who starts in radio. His standards are based on what he finds out talking to fat women at nine o'clock in the morning. The comedian who starts in radio also has a different concept of the mental level of audiences.
"I suppose you can't blame him. Radio is a medium that runs 18 hours a day. How can you even mention standards?"
TV-Too Many Imitations

Allen, despite the bitter under-current in his words, did not sound bitter. He spoke with a half-humorous sort of resignation, as though he had been over all this before and how long could you let it bother you anyway? But he did not smile at all.
"Ninety per cent of the people in radio are living on the other 10 per cent," he went on. "The minute you get something new everyone starts to imitate it. The first structures are built and the rest copy those structures. Jack Benny's show has been widely imitated. Right now everyone's using the Fibber McGee format.
"And what is it all for? A net-work wants to sell time. An agency wants to sell a show. A sponsor wants to sell a laxative. The actor, where is he? He is always in jeopardy because of a mythical rating that comes out every 30 days claiming to report mass reaction to a program. There are a million people in Indianapolis, this rating out-fit talks to four guys on the street. The four guys don't think you're funny. You're fired."
A man came into the engineer's booth and began to talk into a mike. "One, two, three, four," he said. "One, two three, four." Allen listened to him. "If you can count to 10," Allen said, "you can be a referee in a prize fight. If you can only count to four, there's a place for you in radio."
This Sunday night Allen will introduce a new character, Ajax Cassidy, to Allen's Alley. Ajax will be played by Peter Donald. Minerva Pious will be back as Mrs. Nussbaum and Kenny Delmar as Senator Claghorn.
Ajax Cassidy, "philosopher with no philosophy," is coming into Allen's Alley to replace Falstaff Openshaw. Alan Reed, who was Falstaff, is in Hollywood making movies.
"Everybody's in California," Allen said. "Radio really operates from there. This Radio City has become a mausoleum. They build a great building and then, with true radio efficiency, send everything to California."
Allen got up to leave. His wife, Portland Hoffa, was waiting for him. Had he and Mrs. Allen had a good Summer in Maine, we asked?
"Yes," Allen said, "though it rained quite a lot. Strange, he added, "NBC forgot to take care of the weather."

Miss X Appears

Walter Lantz’s “Abou Ben Boogie” (1944) owes an awful lot to Tex Avery but its success is due mainly to animator Pat Matthews. He does a great job with the sensual Miss X and he’s responsible for a wonderful solo dancing scene involving a camel.

Here’s how director Shamus Culhane handles the arrival of Miss X into this cartoon, carried by two burly servants/slaves. These are consecutive drawings.



Culhane wasn’t too concerned about matching cuts. These are consecutive frames.



Since Bugs Hardaway co-wrote this, I’d better say “The eyes have it.” He’d appreciate the hokey pun.



Lantz planned to have Miss X co-starring in the first of the Musical Miniatures, “Poet and Peasant” (Variety, Sept. 12, 1944), but the character ran afoul of the censors. Lantz never made another cartoon with her.

Not the Jones Eyes!!

Anyone want to take a guess at who was responsible for these drawings?



Far more interesting are these representations of diseases:


Whooping Cough


Diphtheria


Rheumatic Fever


Smallpox

This is from the industrial short So Much For So Little, released in 1949. As you can tell from the baby with the Cindy-Lou Who eyes, nose and eyelashes, it was made by the Chuck Jones unit at Warners. Storyman Mike Maltese doesn’t get a credit but Jones’ animators do—Ken Harris, Ben Washam, Lloyd Vaughan and Phil Monroe. I don’t know which one is responsible for the smear below; it’s either Vaughan or Washam.



Bob Gribbroek, Paul Julian and Pete Alvarado are also credited. Your narrator is Frank Graham.

More Lolly on Jack

Not one of the Hollywood gossip columnists ever wrote a bad thing about Jack Benny, at least that I can tell. All the columns I’ve ever run across praise him for being a kind and gentle man and not anything like his radio character (a point I suspect Mr. B. wanted the columnists to make clear, considering how many times he talked about it himself).

Louella Parsons of the Hearst chain was particularly friendly. Perhaps it’s because Benny fed her ego by inviting her to appear on his radio show three times (something he never did with her rival, Hedda Hopper). She devoted her entire column to Jack on a number of occasions. We’ve posted a couple of them here. Here’s another one from newspapers of November 30, 1952.

Mrs. Parsons never hesitated to make herself part of the story. She does so again in this column.

Jack Benny Is Generous, Not Stingy
By LOUELLA O. PARSONS
Motion Picture Editor
International News Service
HOLLYWOOD—I was rushing to meet Jack Benny at my house, and as we drove up to the door, I said to Collins, my driver, "Oh, dear, that's Jack Benny's car now."
"No ma'am, Miss Parsons," said Collins, "Mr. Benny drives an old Maxwell."
This will give an idea of the impact of Jack's Jokes. All of his radio listeners firmly believe Jack is the stingiest man in Hollywood, and that he wants all the glory for himself. Nothing could be farther from the truth. After 20 years. Jack still makes these gags seem true, but in reality he is one of the most generous of men, the kindest, and the people who work with him swear by him.
He will never do anything to keep others on his show from going out on their own and making good, as witness Dennis Day and Phil Harris, both of whom started with Jackson (as they call him) and now have successful shows of their own.
Jack is one of the few entertainers who has stayed on radio, and can stay as long as he wishes. His format, which varies little throughout the years, is still a must in many, many homes. However, he is going to do a TV show once a month. "There are so many places where television does not reach," said Jack, "so I will do both radio and TV this year."
He takes radio in his stride, and everyone has a good time on his show. That's one of the reasons it's a success—the merriment comes over the microphone. I told him I can always hear Mary Livingston's laugh above all else.
"Mary doesn't care at all about show business," he said, "and she is so good. She would bow out anytime. She's also a wonderful critic but do you know where I go when I want to know whether my show is good or bad?"
"To Mary's great friend Barbara Stanwyck," he answered. "Barbara is completely honest. She'll say, 'you missed the boat' or 'that is a good show.' When she says the show is good she means it."
In the course of our conversation I told Jack another reason I think he is so loved is because he never resorts to off color jokes. His shows are for the whole family. Other comedians often say something so suggestive it brings a blush to people who aren't used to innuendo, but Jack never offends in the slightest.
Jack was born near Waukegan, Illinois (not far from my hometown, Freeport), on Valentine's Day, and still says he is 39 years old. His real name is Benny Kubelsky, and the boy who became Jack Benny and played on the fiddle has come a long way.
The Bennys have been married since January, 1927—and in all those years there has never been a breath of scandal connected with either of them, Jack has made "The Horn Blows at Midnight" pay off by kidding himself and the picture, which isn't in any language, a work of art. But I happen to know that it made money anyway. In fact Jack has never made a picture that didn't.
Rochester calls Jack, "Mr. Benny, star of stage, radio and screen." Now he'll have to add "and television" to the list.
If there were more Jack Bennys, Hollywood would be a better place. But I feel as do those who love him, that they broke the mold when they made this fine person.

A number of people in Hollywood didn’t have as high of an opinion about Parsons as she did about Jack Benny. Eventually, Parsons simply became irrelevant. The studio system that kept the stars—and her—in business disintegrated. In the meantime, Jack Benny, who had been in show business even longer than Parsons, carried on into the 1960s and 1970s. He was still a star when he died in 1974. When Parsons died in 1972, she was part of the past.

RKO's New Star

Felix the Cat couldn’t beat a mouse.

The rodent he was dealing with wasn’t an ordinary one. It was Mickey Mouse.

The year was 1936. RKO was releasing cartoons featuring Felix, who had been off the screen for several years thanks to the death of a) silent films and b) the man credited with creating him, Pat Sullivan. In the intervening period, Disney rose to reign over the theatrical animated world thanks to a) Mickey, b) Flowers and Trees, a Technicolor milestone and c) The Three Little Pigs, arguably the most popular cartoon to that point.

Mickey had jumped from Columbia to United Artists, but Walt Disney was looking for a better deal for his cartoons. In the meantime, RKO had been releasing cartoons by the Van Beuren studio, of which it was a part owner. Van Beuren was in a state of turmoil, with characters and staff coming and going, exacerbated in 1934 when the director of the aforementioned pigs cartoon, Burt Gillett, was hired and put in charge. Gillett’s cartoons looked like night and day compared to the fun, quirky and not always well drawn Van Beuren shorts of 1930, but it wasn’t enough. RKO decided it wanted the world’s most famous cartoon character.

Daily Variety reported, in part, on March 3, 1936:

Radio Captures Disney
SPITZ TAGS COMPLETE PRODUCT
Disney cartoons will release via RKO exchanges for 1936-37 season. Producer pulls away from United Artists when he fulfills present commitment of five cartoons on current program.
Papers were signed late last night, after negotiations covering month. Leo Spitz, president of RKO, M . H. Aylesworth, chairman of board, and Ned Depinet, president of RKO Distributing Corp., sat in for releasing company, Walt and Roy Disney taking care of their end with attorney Gunther Lessing.
Releasing All Product
Agreement provides for RKO to release all Disney product, including Mickey Mouse and Silly Symphony cartoon shorts. Producer has been working on feature cartoon, 'Snow White,' expects to have it ready for spring release.
Understood main reason Disney jumped away from United Artists was his not getting owner-partnership share when Alexander Korda was taken in last fall. Another reason was unsettled affairs of U A with various executive changes, Disney figuring RKO deal, which gives him guaranteed negative cost on every subject produced, is safer than U A release without negative advances and does not require as much operating capital.

Here are some trade ads heralding the Mouse’s impending arrival.



But what of the Van Beuren cartoons? Weekly Variety reported on March 11th:

Disney Ousts Van B.?
Conflict in type of shorts product may result in RKO's dropping of Rainbow Parade cartoons, produced by Van Beuren Corp. next season. Addition of Walt Disney's Mickey Mouse and Silly Symphonies gives the company a surplus of animated cartoons. RKO claims it is not definitely set on any change thus far. Van Beuren series includes Felix the Cat, Toonerville Trolley, etc.
Other Van Reuren product which includes five other series of short features, probably will remain set unless RKO decides two-reelers are not profitable in face of influx of dual programs.

But drop Van Beuren it did. The studio was closed by June. The last Van Beuren cartoon released was Toonerville Picnic, directed by Gillett, on October 2nd. RKO’s first Disney cartoon wasn’t released until September 21, 1937—Hawaiian Holiday. A couple of months later, the studio released The Old Mill, which won an Oscar. And Disney had acquired a new director, and from Van Beuren no less. Burt Gillett had toddled home.

A Change of Scenery

An interesting but jarring effect shows up in the early Terrytoon By the Sea (1931). A mouse is driving his car in the city and makes a left turn. Suddenly, the background drawing changes. The last two frames are consecutive.



The cartoon’s story involves a cat in love with a mouse, who is stolen away by the heroic mouse in the frames above.

That's What You Think, Brother

Dumb-Hounded was one of Tex Avery’s “wild take” cartoons, where he came up with variations on huge reactions of horror by the wolf (voiced by Frank Graham).

Here’s the first. Wolfie thinks he’s escaped from Droopy (played by Bill Thompson) but realises he hasn’t after he walks into the dog, who says “That’s what you think, brother.” These are consecutive frames. Notice the outlines of Droopy and the wolf at the end. That was used for a mid-air body vibration effect.



The wolf leaps into mid-air, churns his body and takes off to the door to escape. He’s foiled.



And things get crazier after that.

Irv Spence, Ed Love, Ray Abrams and Preston Blair animated the cartoon.

Garry Marshall's Landlord Evicted by NBC

He gave Blansky’s Beauties to the world.

I’m sure that’s not how Garry Marshall would want to be remembered. Anyone who paid attention to credits on TV in the 1960s and early ‘70s would have seen his name on “The Odd Couple” (along with at least two other Marshalls) and “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” And, of course, he went on to even bigger things (and a few stinkers).

It was 50 years ago that Marshall and writing partner Jerry Belson became producers. Mirisch-Rich had recently formed to get into the TV business. Their first three network nibbles were “The Rat Patrol,” a cartoon series called “Super 6” and a comedy called “Hey, Landlord!” The latter was put in the hands of Marshall and Belson, along associate producer Bruce Johnson. All were around 30. Proctor and Gamble bought a full sponsorship. A flotilla of people involved in the Van Dyke show came over to work on the series (Rose Marie had a guest spot). 11 additional episodes were ordered by the network in October and six more in January. But despite being sandwiched between Walt Disney and “Bonanza,” the show got killed by Ed Sullivan and “The F.B.I.” and it was pulled before the end of the season.

All I remember about the show is there was a staircase. That’s how much of an impression it made on a nine-year-old viewer (I haven’t seen it since). So it was interesting peering around trying to find some old newspaper clippings about Marshall and running into a few stories about this show instead. So here they are. Both are from September 10, 1966.

Brownstone Is Locale Of Hutchins Comedy
By CHARLES WITBECK
HOLLYWOOD—If "Dick Van Dyke Show" fans feel lost this day night group of extraverts, they should try catching "Hey, Landlord," with Will "Sugarfoot" Hutchins and Sandy Baron, NBC's new Sunday night comedy slotted between "Walt Disney" and "Bonanza."
While the "Van Dyke" series charted the problems of a successful TV writer and his delightful wife, "Hey, Landlord" drops down an age notch to watch the reactions of a young, naive, would-be writer, Woody Banner (Will Hutchins), inheritor of a beaten-up New York brownstone, and his roommate Chuck (Sandy Baron), the flegling comic, a pragmatist who prefers action to dreams except when it comes to paying rent or helping out with antiquated plumbing.
Each week Woody and Chuck check want ads for jobs to launch careers and to pay for the upkeep of the brownstone apartment house. In a sample episode, Woody lands a writing job with a toy company seeking material for a talking toy crow. This situation sets up humorous scenes of the two men trying to dream up gags for the crow, and it lets the writers take playful pokes at the big money toy market and some of its silly products.
Job And Home
Like the "Van Dyke Show," "Hey, Landlord" moves back and forth between job and home. In the Banner apartment house reside all sorts of goofy and tenants: a scatter-brained, sexy TV weather girl, Pamela Rodgers; a lovely Japanese airline stewardess, Miko Mayama, and a bedraggled widow, Ann Morgan Guilbert, with her 6-year-old brat. The pilot episode featured a crazy photographer played by Michael Constantine, and the producers liked him so much, Michael has been added to the cast. The Banner brownstone has ah open end—whenever new characters score highly they'll simply be brought back as new tenants. By the end of the season the battered dwelling may house more occupants than the Waldorf Astoria.

All these "Van Dyke" traits in the Sunday night comedy come as no surprise when one checks the list of credits. Producers Garry Marshall and Jerry Belson used to write for the Emmy laden show, while director Jerry Paris learned his trade on the series.
Another member of the distinguished alumni is Ann Morgan Guilbert, formerly neighbor Milly, now the exhausted widow. And, at the top of the credit pyramid, is executive consultant Sheldon Leonard, the man who launched "Dick Van Dyke Show" and managed to keep it on the air after those initial shaky six months. For Will Hutchins, "Hey, Landlord" is a gift from heaven. The sandy-haired Phi Beta Kappa cast as the slow-moving, simple western hero in "Sugarfoot" for three years, finally gets a break in status.
Even though Hutchins still receives fan mail on "Sugarfoot," he has been given short shrift by Hollywood casting people who look down on the crop of Warner Bros. TV actors noted for bringing in all that money during the mid-50's. Up for an "Alfred Hitchcock" TV part a few years ago, Hutchins was asked by producer Norman Lloyd to read the entire script before being accepted. Lloyd simply felt unsure of Will's acting abilities because he wore a Warner Bros. label.
Hutchins Doesn't Shuffle
In the role of intelligent, naive, 21-year-old Woody who is trying to find himself after graduating from Ohio State, Hutchins can at least erase that Warner Bros. stigma. Will doesn't shuffle as Woody, he says some funny things and makes pertinent observations. He is even quiet and appreciative in certain key scenes, playing a normal young man who doesn't have to kick clods for laughs.
His co-star Sandy Baron, cast as the fast-talking, effervescent comic Chuck who performs everywhere for nothing, is playing a role he knows by heart. Sandy started out In the comedy business as a bus boy and waiter in the Catskills, watching the standup comics perform, and he had confidence right off the bat.
"I knew I was funny at the time, but delivering one-line jokes wasn't my racket," says Baron. Instead Sandy bought monologues and then found his niche improvising material in the off-Broadway theater hits, "The Premise' and "Second City." Dramatic roles followed "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and this spring's "Generation" with Henry Fonda.
"I used to think getting a TV job was a sell-out," admitted Sandy, "but work has changed my mind."
Baron Learning Business
Now, Sandy is learning the filmed TV comedy business playing a familiar part, and he's taking lessons from the best pros in town. Says Sandy about overseer Sheldon Leonard: "He will frighten you. He does a great Indian war dance. He watches you perform, and then he will come up and begin with 'I would like it if...'."
Says Leonard, concisely summing up "Hey, Landlord":
"This is the story of three musketeers, but with two."

Pamela Rodgers? Was she on it? I only remember her as a replacement cast member on “Laugh-In” before vanishing from TV. But “Landlord” gave Rogers her first regular role. Several different interviews with her saw print; this one was found in the Binghamton Press; I suspect it’s a syndicated piece.

Pamela Turns Up the Heat As Hey, Landlord! Regular
New York—Everybody talks about the weather but once they get a look at Pamela Rodgers as a stunning weather reporter, they will change the subject.
Pamela, a striking beauty, co-stars as slightly scatter-brained TV weather girl Timothy Morgan on Hey Landlord!, a new half-hour comedy series dealing with the life, times and tenants of a venerable New York brownstone, showing in color NBC and Channel 40.
A former "Miss Texas," Pam went directly from the stage of the Miss Universe Beauty Pageant to the stages of such top night spots as the Hotel Sahara in Las Vegas and New York's Copacabana as a dancer and ultimately to the sound stages of Hollywood.
As recently as 1965, just three years after graduation from Jesse H. Jones High School in her hometown of Houston, that she made her film debut. She has since appeared in The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and The Donna Reed Show as well as such motion pictures as "The Silencers," "Three on a Couch;" "Doomsday Flight" and "The Oscar."

AS WEATHER GIRL Timothy Morgan, Pamela portrays a starry-eyed innocent, aspiring to a career in show business and whose not-so-innocent face and figure, all agree, portend imminent stardom.
Timothy shares an apartment with another career girl, airline stewardess Kyoko Mitsui (Miko Mayama) in a typical metropolitan brownstone landlorded by series star Will Hutchins as Woody. Sandy Baron also stars as Chuck, Woody's roommate, confidante and some-time managerial assistant.
Timothy feels her participation on the local TV weather program is affording her the exposure necessary for a start in the business. But it is back at the brownstone where Timothy attracts the most viewers thanks to her passion for the latest in such "mod" fashions as hip buggers, bikinis and mini-skirts. The fact is, considering the total male tenant contingent plus the helicopter and dirigible crews who hover over the rooftop sundeck, Timothy gets a much better audience rating when she is not working.
Wondrously, she somehow detects logic in why half the Eastern Seaboard's militaryand civilian aircraft must "practice their low-level maneuvers" smack over the center of the world's largest city but like Kyoko, her companion sunbather, she'd prefer the planes go someplace else because, "they make too much shade." As to Pamela's ability to handle her role in this, her TV series debut, among a cast of players with considerably more acting experience, co-producers Garry Marshall and Jerry Belson sum it up this way:
"It takes brains to play a scatterbrain."

Garry Marshall didn’t let the failure of “Hey, Landlord” faze him. And TV fans can be grateful for that. Blansky’s Beauties notwithstanding.