Virgil Ross and Bashing Bugs Bunny

Virgil Ross would be 109 years old today. In April 1930, he was living at his parents’ place in Compton, California, making a career as a commercial artist in advertising. That year, he decided to get into animation. Five years later, he, Sid Sutherland and Cecil Surry joined Tex Avery in moving from the Walter Lantz studio to Warner Bros. And he stayed for years (when the studio shut down for the second half of 1953, he got a job playing piano, then returned).

Ross spent the majority of his career at Warners in Friz Freleng’s unit, where he crafted some subtle, nuanced animation. One of his scenes I really like is in Ballot Box Bunny (released 1950), where there’s violent action—Sam clobbers Bugs Bunny with a club—but also expressions and gestures that may not have been noticed, but were certainly felt by the audience.

See how Sam thumps his chest, sizes up his club with a squinted eye, pushes up his sleeve, measures Bugs with one eye, wham! (Bugs weaves around and drops out of the scene), then changes his expression to scream that he loves babies.



Virgil died on May 15, 1996.

A few years ago, a great interview with Virgil was posted on-line. I can’t find it now. But here’s another one conducted 22 years ago. And watch some highlights from his Warners cartoon below.

Virgil Ross Animation Reel from Devon Baxter on Vimeo.

Tralfaz Sunday Theatre – V For Victory

Time for a short message to buy Canadian War Bonds. This brief cartoon was made by Norman McLaren for the National Film Board in 1941. It features a symbol of the letter “V” in Morse Code (three dots and a dash), the letter “V” itself and a stick man. It was drawn on the 35-mm. film stock itself.

The music is “The Thunderer” by John Philip Sousa.

Jack Benny Comes Out for Liberace

In the 1950s, Liberace made critics shudder and retch. They derided his perma-smile, his musicianship, his masculinity. And he wasn’t even as way-over-the-top as he became in the 1970s.

Amidst the chorus of derision came a voice of defence. It was from none other than Jack Benny.

Actually, it might have been a case of Jack defending himself. He had Liberace as a guest star on his TV show of January 17, 1954 (you may be available to find it on-line). A month later, he found himself in Boston where reporters asked him why on earth he’d have a maiden auntie like that on his programme. Hadn’t he seen John Crosby’s syndicated column just days earlier that ripped apart Liberace and his act? (You can read the Crosby column and reaction in this post).

Well, of course, the answer was simple. Jack Benny was no dummy. He knew Liberace had a huge audience, and having Liberace on his show meant a potential huge rating. And he praised Lee to the assembled throng of media, while talking about his show in general. This is from the Boston Globe of February 24, 1954. The headline of the story has taken on a different, and quite ironic, meaning since then.

“Hello-o-o-o- J-a-c-k”
Benny Comes Out For Liberace
By ELIZABETH L. SULLIVAN
Jack Benny had to come to Boston to find out about the John Crosby-Liberace controversy. The repercussions have not reached the coast yet and Benny has been busy these past few days emceeing the Friars’ dinner in New York, putting on two radio shows in the East, preparing for next Sunday’s telecast and appearing as a guest speaker at last night’s Bonds for Israel dinner in the Hub.
“Why, Liberace is the nicest person you would ever want to meet!” shouted Jack. “And that is why he is successful, because he is natural. His mannerisms are not affected. That’s the make-up of the man.
“We’ve been friends for years. He has had numerous requests for TV appearances and when he selected my show to be first, I felt deeply honored. When Liberace showed up for rehearsal, he walked into the studio and in that smiling, monotone way of his, said.
“Hello-o-o-o- J-a-c-k.”
“Before I knew it,” continued Benny, “I was doing the same thing . . . wearing a Liberace smile.”

Benny, incidentally, was holding a press meeting at his suit in the Somerset Hotel, and he had everyone laughing.
“It isn’t possible to please your audiences. For instance, you would think from the ratings that everyone watches ‘I Love Lucy.’ But there are viewers who despise that show. By the same token there are viewers who like Liberace and there are those who do not.
“I’m no exception. Recently I did ‘The Horn Blows at Midnight’ on the Omnibus telecast. The first dozen responses said the performance was wonderful, but the same mail brought in a half dozen that said I was lousy.
“Liberace is breaking box office records all over the country. He played Los Angeles recently and tickets were unavailable. He is not a phony. If he were, people would sense it sooner or later and he would have faded into obscurity.
“In order to put Liberace on my TV show, his act would have to be of a different nature. If he were to sit down and play the piano in full dress, it would be just another Liberace performance. So I told him that the cast and myself would don the tails and he would have to wear a lumber jacket. Liberace roared. He was all for it.
“That proves what a regular guy he is,” emphasized Benny. “And if I could think of a good reason to have him back on my show again soon, I’d recall him.”
A Plug for Next Show

Benny says it is impossible to turn out topnotch shows every week. “I don’t attempt it. But if next Sunday’s show is not the best show I’ve ever done, I’ll drop dead!”
Benny had reference to a comedy skit with Helen Hayes.
“Preparing shows for radio and TV require different methods,” said Jack. “In radio, a lot is left to the imagination. On TV, the shows have to be seen. I don’t have formats for each, even though it seems as if I do. I have the same radio case, but each TV lineup is different. We aim to do good shows, not spectacular ones.
“Mary dislikes both radio and TV, although she loves show business for me and she is extremely fond of show people. Rochester is wonderful, both on radio and TV. “Incidentally, I don’t wear a toupee!” exclaimed Benny. I did wear on once for a movie and it gathered momentum as a gag . . . just like the age 39 gag.
“There’s something funny about 39 . . . it’s like halting at the old-age figure of 40! Next year I’m planning a big production on TV as I actually decide to go into 40. It’s going to be a mammoth affair.
“Just like Joan’s wedding, smiled Benny. It takes place next month. Mary is in a dither and will be glad when it’s over. Of course, we have to invite everyone. It’s a big event in Joan’s life and we hope it will be a lasting marriage.”

Selling Oswald

Walter Lantz had a long association with Universal Studios, but it was not always a happy one. In a fit of pique, he refused to accept a counter-offer from Universal in 1947 and moved over to United Artists (where he announced a three-month closure at the end of the year). And before that, something happened with finances somewhere around early 1940 that caused Lantz to halt production. But he was still making cartoons for Universal when he closed his studio in 1972 and Universal was pleased to re-issue old ones after that.

Lantz’s arrival at Universal is surrounded in a bit of mystery. Animation historians will tell you the studio decided to set up its own cartoon operation with Lantz in charge, instead of distributing shorts made by Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising for middleman Charlie Mintz. That’s quite true; Variety reported on February 28, 1929 that Lantz and Bill Nolan had been signed to make a series of cartoon pictures, with work to begin on March 18th. But Lantz didn’t come out of nowhere. He had been animating and directing for Mintz. He also knew Carl Laemmle, the head of Universal. How and why did Universal decide to dump Mintz and spend the money to build a cartoon studio with one of Mintz’s staffers in charge? Did Lantz go behind Mintz’s back, just as Mintz had gone behind Walt Disney’s back about a year earlier to pirate Harman, Ising and other staffers? I’d love to know the answer. (As a side note, Lantz seems to have pirated Tom Palmer, who had been working for Mintz).

Incidentally, Nolan left the studio in October 1934. Was it really because of “a nervous condition,” as Variety claimed? (He landed at Columbia by April 1936)

Universal’s in-house magazine, Universal Weekly, contained some very nice full-page plugs for the Lantz cartoons in the ‘30s’; cartoon shorts were hot for a while thanks to Disney’s “Three Little Pigs.” There were a few articles as well. Here’s one from February 4, 1933. Oswald the rabbit was Universal’s original star, created by Disney in 1927 when the studio was releasing his cartoons. He made it into the sound era but suffered from Disneyitis, where characters became duller and cartoons filled with fewer surreal gags as the ‘30s wore on.

ALTHOUGH Oswald was not officially released as a cartoon personality until September 1, 1927, he was actually shown to the public on July 15th at the Criterion Theatre, Los Angeles. On this historic date, almost six years ago, "Oswald the Lucky Rabbit" as a stellar attraction took his place on a theatre marquee sign with John Gilbert and Greta Garbo. On July 15th of this year, Oswald will be six years old. Universal is planning an anniversary for him, to start on June 30th, at which time Brother Pooch the Pup will be one year old.
And Along Came Pooch
It seemed that when "Oswald the Lucky Rabbit" was five years old, he became lonesome. Walter Lantz, director of cartoons at Universal City and originator of young Oswald, decided to do something about this loneliness. He went into a huddle and evolved Pooch the Pup, unpedigreed and pretty much a tramp, but harmless to rabbits. Oswald has been very happy about this situation because ever since Pooch came, his labors have been cut in half, so to speak. Oswald goes to bat thirteen times a year, instead of twenty-six, and Pooch takes up the cudgels for the other thirteen appearances. Neither of these cartoon characters, as will be easily seen, is superstitious.
With the current release, "Oswald the Plumber," Oswald will have appeared in exactly 135 subjects. This is a stellar accomplishment which only the most popular stars, like Tom Mix, for instance, can possibly equal. But great things are ahead for Oswald. In spite of the splendid record he has made, "Oswald the Plumber" is regarded by many critics as the best Oswald yet.

"In 1933," says Lantz, cartoon director, "it is necessary to step up the quality of animated talking cartoons. In spite of the high standard we have attempted to maintain on Oswald, we are definitely committed to making improvements in his cartoons, and with Pooch we feel that we have an opportunity of unique character, and we are going to take full advantage of it. The other day, we discovered that Pooch looked better with dark ears. The whole lot was enthusiastic about the new sideboards, and we feel that Pooch's admirers will also be greatly amused by the new ears we have given him." (First picture of Pooch in his new ears will be seen on the opposite page. Take a look at them. The new ears will not appear on the screen until "The Lumber Champ," released in March.)
Lots of Hard Work
If anyone thinks that it is an easy matter to turn out animated cartoons, it will be a surprise to them to know that to turn out the thirteen Oswalds and the thirteen Pooch cartoons requires the services of forty people, artists, animators, gag men and musicians. The music is under the direction of James Dietrich.

Universal encouraged and helped theatre owners to promote the Oswald and Pooch shorts in at least two issues of Universal Weekly. Here’s one of the promotional suggestions from the same issue as the article above.



Here’s another short story about another shorts series by Universal. News commentator Lowell Thomas featured the Lantz studio in one of his entries in 1936; you can find it on one of the Woody Woodpecker DVDs as an extra.

Here’s The Way Cartoons Are Made

ONE of the greatest tributes paid to "Cartoonland Mysteries," No. 18 in the series of "Going Places" with Lowell Thomas, was paid by W. G. Van Schmus of the Radio City Music Hall.
Mr. Van Schmus has just booked "Cartoonland Mysteries" into the Music Hall and it will play there as soon as the next show is made up. The trade reviewers have all given this interesting and novel expose of the way moving picture cartoons are made, the highest of ratings.
And no wonder the reviewers enjoy and recommend this interesting subject. Everyone who sees cartoons in moving picture theatres has wondered how they are made. No matter how much you are interested in the antics of Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, of Mickey Mouse, of Pop-Eye the Sailor, and all of the other cartoon characters, you wonder how they are made to move so naturally, and yet so grotesquely, how the sound is produced, recorded and synchronized, how the sound effects are obtained, and how the story is put together into one laughable and enjoyable piece of entertainment.
Lowell Thomas, in his trip to Cartoonland, answers all of the questions which people have been asking for years and years. He satisfies their curiosity. He tells you the methods that are adopted in one of the great moving picture studios. He introduces you to Walter Lantz, who is the creator and manipulator of Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, and by means of one of Oswald's releases, he gives you the low-down on how Oswald and all the other cartoon characters get that way. This is the first picture actually showing the public how all this is done. It is a public benefaction.

The publication also printed a few cel set-ups accompanied by trade publication views to convince exhibitors to show the cartoons.



Carl Laemmle retired in 1936 and control of Universal was handed over to new owners as of April 3rd. The Universal Weekly seems to have died a few weeks later.

Jazzy Grandma

Compare Van Beuren’s Red Riding Hood to Fleischers’ Dizzy Red Riding Hood, both released in 1931, and... well, there’s no comparison. The Fleischer cartoon is superior in every way. But I like the Van Beuren short anyway.

There’s something odd in every Van Beuren cartoon, and in this case a jazz tonic turns grandma into a younger, black bottom-dancing version of herself, yet Red doesn’t even notice there’s been a change.

Grandma later pours some tonic on her slipper and it turns into a high-heeled shoe. Then she showers the stuff on herself. I like the gooney look the animator gives her.



The general story’s pretty good. The wolf is more interested in eloping with the swingin’ grandma than eating Red. Trouble is, he’s already married. Red tells the wolf’s wife, who marches toward the church with her brood, each carrying a rolling pin, and chase the wolf away before the “I dos.” The grandma, Red, then the minister all cry but recover enough to sing and zoom their heads toward the camera. Why? Because it’s a Van Beuren cartoon.

Harry Bailey and John Foster receive the “by” credit.

He Swims With the Fishes

The wolf tries to escape Sergeant McPoodle throughout “Northwest Hounded Police.” He goes from one gag to the next with no stops. Here, the wolf dives into an icy Johnny Johnsen lake. He thinks he’s escaped. We get another Avery take again before the wolf swims up out of the lake and into the next gag.



Ed Love, Ray Abrams, Preston Blair and Walt Clinton animated this 1946 cartoon.

The Lawyer Who Didn't Play One on TV

Herb Vigran was one of a number of actors who made a very good living without being a star. In radio, he was among an elite group constantly in demand for dramas and comedies. The same in early network television based on the West Coast. On top of that, he realised—like a number of good radio actors—that commercials were not something to be sneered at. They paid very well. Stardom? Fame? Yeah, that may be nice, but a good character actor could make plenty of cash and, as Arnold Stang once observed, without all the stress.

Vigran did land a starring role, but like other supporting players in radio who did the same, it didn’t last very long. We’ll get to it in a moment.

First, let’s pass along this unbylined biography about Vigran found in the Lewiston Evening Journal of February 29, 1964. I doubt the paper interviewed him and he isn’t plugging anything. I imagine his agency had it sent out to newspapers in the hope someone might publish it.

There Have Been Changes For Herb
HOLLYWOOD—When Herb Vigran first arrived in Hollywood, he was broke and unknown, and had scant experience as an actor.
Today he’s not penniless, obscure or inexperienced. His voice, if not his face, is known to millions. His voice got him started in show business and earns him the income which in part built his new San Fernando Valley home he has named “Rancho Residual.”
Herb’s professional career, which spans more than 25 years, got its start in 1939 when he was lucky enough to get an interview with an agent. An hour later, he had the lead in a radio “Silver theatre” drama. It was a welcome change after a particularly bleak year in the world’s entertainment capital.
For $5, which he could ill afford, Vigran had a recording made of the show. It proved to be the open sesame for future jobs. He parlayed his vocal versatility into a career covering most of radio’s top shows as well as both radio and television commercials.
The move from radio to television and motion pictures came naturally. His bushy-browed features were as much an asset as his voice. He has appeared in character roles in innumerable live and filmed TV series, including “The Donna Reed Show,” “Hazel,” the Jack Benny, Ed Wynn, Red Skelton and Lucille Ball shows, and “McHale’s Navy.”

Vigran perhaps is best known for his role of Monty in the Dick Powell “Willie Dante” shows. His most recent motion picture credit is Universal’s “The Brass Bottle,” starring Burl Ives and Tony Randall.
Herb was born June 5, 1910, in Cincinnati, Ohio. At 16 he moved with the family to Fort Wayne, Ind., where he was graduated from the local high school and from Indiana University’s Law School.
As soon as he had taken his bar examination, Herb abandoned Blackstone for greasepaint and struck out for Hollywood.
“I didn’t even wait to find out if I’d passed the exam,” he says. “I headed West because I had an aunt living in Hollywood and knew I could sponge on her for room and board.”
He got a few bit parts, but finally packed off to New York. After roles in “Boy Meets Girl,” and “Having a Wonderful Time” on Broadway, Vigran headed West again, determined to take another crack at Hollywood before thinking of going back to the law books.
That was in 1929, when he met the agent. Herb hasn’t looked back since. One good radio role followed another and except for a two-year stint in the Army during World War II, he hasn’t been out of show business.
A year after he took the bar examination Herb learned he had passed. He later returned to Indiana to be officially admitted to the bar, but he has never practiced law.
Coupling his infantry and acting experience, he starred in “Sad Sack,” a 13-week summer show, when the war ended. Good roles in motion pictures followed. By the advent of television, he was known, trained and ready.
Herb married the former Belle Pasternak, a secretary to a motion picture executive, in 1952. They have two sons, Richard, 10, and Robert 8, and live in Woodland Hills in California’s San Fernando Valley.

Vigran’s starring role was on a half-hour summer replacement comedy in 1946, portraying World War Two’s most put-upon soldier, the Sad Sack. Summer shows were treated as auditions for fall pick-up, but that isn’t what happened with Vigran’s show. It finished its 13-week run and never returned. Vigran told interviewer Chuck Schaden the show failed because people didn’t want to be reminded about the war any more.

Radio Life magazine profiled the show in its edition of August 18, 1946. Any fan of the Golden Days of Radio should love this publication. It’s full of network publicity pictures about anyone who was anyone on the air. It’s a shame the copies on-line aren’t better scanned but it’s nice to have them. The photos come from that edition.

“Sad Sack’s” In Civvies
—And On the Air With Veteran Actor Herb Vigran in His First Starring Role as the Wistful Little Hero of George Baker's Pen
By Lynn Roberts

ALTHOUGH actually, Herb Vigran didn't become "Sad Sack" until just a few weeks ago when the new airshow was inaugurated, Herb himself will tell you that he has been "Sad Sack" for over two years. For that length of time, the actor was wearing khaki that was no stage costume in an Army camp that was no movie set. "And all of us guys in the Army," related Vigran earnestly, "turned to see what the 'Sack' was doing the minute we got hold of a Yank magazine, because every guy in the Army thought of the 'Sack' as himself—including me."
After years of skipping meals and pounding pavements in search of acting assignments, thirty-six-year-old Vigran had just established himself as a successful character actor in Hollywood radio when Uncle Sam called him to the colors in October of 1943. "That made me a little sad," grinned Vigran, "and the Army made me a 'Sack'."
The actor was stationed with the Infantry at Camp Roberts for six months, then transferred to the Torney General Hospital at Palm Springs, where he was placed in charge of entertainment, staged shows and taught classes in stage acting and radio production. He was discharged from service in October of 1945.
Looking very unlike "Sad Sack" (save for the discharge button in his lapel) in a conservative well-pressed dark blue suit, his thinning black hair combed neatly back, actor Vigran talked with enthusiasm about his new radio assignment. The title role on this CBS comedy series that is based on George Baker's familiar comic-strip character, is Vigran's initial starring part.
He expressed gratitude to the show's producer, Ted Sherdeman. "It was Ted, in fact," reminisced the actor, "who gave me my very first Hollywood radio job—on Hedda Hopper's 'Brent House'."
Said Sherdeman of the "Sad Sack" show, "We're having fun with it," and Vigran pointed out, "That's typical of Ted. When he's putting together a radio show, he always says, 'Let's have fun with it,' and as a result, so does the audience."
Cast of the "Sad Sack" show includes Sandra Gould as "Lucy Twitchell," Ken Christie as "Lucy's father," Patsy Moran as "Mrs. Flanagan, the landlady," and Jim Backus as "Chester Fenwick."
Ex-Navyman Dick Joy is its announcer.
Ex-Coast Guardsman Charlie Isaacs and ex-Army man Arthur Stander do the scripting. Producer Sherdeman is an ex-Lt. Col. "Sad Sack's" creator, Baker, in an ex-Sgt.
Smiled Vigran: "The ruptured ducks are thick around the 'Sad Sack' microphone."

Besides radio and TV, Vigran could also be heard in cartoons. He’s the uncredited narrator in the Warner Bros. short What’s My Lion? (1961) and appears in a number of industrials for John Sutherland Productions, such as It’s Everybody’s Business (1954). He died in 1986.

Press the arrow below to hear him and Jim Backus (several years before he was Mr. Magoo) in The Sad Sack.

Gin! You Lose!

“I’m a-thinkin.’ (pause) And my head hurts,” Yosemite Sam tells Bugs Bunny as they play cards in the great Western spoof “Bugs Bunny Rides Again.”

The title could have been borrowed from “Buck Benny Rides Again,” a Jack Benny Western parody, and so could the card routine. In one of the Benny radio shows, Dennis Day “helps” Jack by telling him what card to play in a game of Gin Rummy against Mary Livingstone. Immediately after the card is laid down, Mary cries “Gin!” Bugs does the same thing here and zooms out of the scene. The best part is Sam’s expressions, subtle one moment and vivid the next. Gerry Chiniquy’s animation?



Carl Stalling has the Warners orchestra play a light version of My Little Buckaroo under the scene.

Tedd Pierce and Mike Maltese came up with the story and the gags, timed perfectly by Friz Freleng.