The Way of All Pests

The best joke the Columbia cartoon The Way of All Pests (1941) is an inside one. Like a lot of Columbia shorts, it’s just not funny. A bunch of goofy bugs—one of whom sounds like Al Pearce’s Elmer Blurt character—take revenge on a homeowner whose crime is he doesn’t like goofy bugs in his house. All of them are voiced by Mel Blanc, who proves that it is possible to get sick of hearing Mel Blanc in a cartoon. Dopey voices and witless lines don’t necessarily equal funny.

The studio put some effort into the scenes where the bugs march toward the home. There’s perspective animation, there are overlays and there’s even a scene where bugs march behind a broken bottle and the characters are fuzzy, like you’re actually looking through glass. You can’t gauge the effect too well in these screen grabs.



The best joke is the fact that the homeowner is a caricature of the film’s director, Art Davis. Nobody in the theatre watching this would have known (cartoon studio employees excepted).



Davis ran away from the house at the end of the cartoon. By the end of 1941, he had been run out of Columbia and after a brief stop working at Fleischers in Miami (working in the Waldman unit on Raggedy Ann, found a new home animating at Warner Bros.

Symphony in Slang Opening

Limited animation? Tex Avery did it with finesse in “Symphony in Slang” (released in 1951). There are plenty of shots of a simple gag drawing (meaning no animation at all), while other scenes feature little cycles.

The opening of this cartoon also has no animation. MGM’s cameraman (Jack Stevens?) simply moves his camera toward the heavenly light over two background drawings that dissolve into each other. TV cartoon companies pulled the same thing, except they were doing it to save money on animating, inking, etc.



Johnny Johnsen is responsible for the backgrounds above. Grant Simmons, Mike Lah and Walt Clinton are the credited animators, with gags by Rich Hogan and voice work by John Brown.

Arnold the Pig, Method Actor

Green Acres started out as a sitcom with a plot-line stolen from the play George Washington Slept Here and then turned into something much cleverer. Well-off New York lawyer Oliver Wendell Douglas decided to give up New York City apartment living and buy a farm house. As well as coping with the run-down property, they had to deal with a dullard farmhand, a shyster County Agent and some off-beat local characters. But as the show developed, the situations moved from odd to surreal with a sly satirical sub-text.

Eddie Albert and Eva Gabor were ostensibly the stars of the show, but they really weren’t. Producer Jay Sommers admitted early in the first year of the show that “Arnold the pig is our biggest drawing card.” Indeed, Arnold found a place in wire service obituaries for both Albert (2005) and Gabor (1995).

The fascination over a pig that acted like a human because he was treated like one resulted in all kinds of newspaper feature columns about him. Let’s give you a couple of them. The first appeared in papers around January 3, 1967, half-way through the second season.

Well, It’s Happened: A Pig Named Ziffle Is a TV ‘Star’
By HARVEY PACK
TV Key, Inc.
New York—One of the more curious developments of this curious television season is the stardom of Arnold Ziffle [sic]. A complete unknown 18 months ago, Arnold now has his own fan clubs scattered across the country and receives more mail than some veteran TV personalties.
Recently, in fact, the students at a midwestern high school named him their "Man of the Year" and broke out in a rash of Arnold Ziffle sweatshirts.
This would not be such an odd success story, save for one fact. Arnold Ziffle is a pig. Specifically, he's the scenery chewing porker who appears with Eddie Albert and Eva Gabor on CBS' "Green Acres."
What is the source of the Ziffle cult? How has a 350 pound slab of bacon on the hoof taken to stardom? In short, what is Arnold Ziffle really like?
To answer these questions, we cornered Jay Sommers, the moon-faced ex-farm boy who produces and writes Green Acres. The following is the conversation which took place:
Q—How did you discover Arnold Ziffle?
A—I wrote a script about a farm couple, the Ziffles, who had no children — but who treated their pig like a son. Lots of people do the same thing with dogs and cats. Why not a pig? Now, I needed an actor to play the role, and put in a call to Frank Inn, one of Hollywood's best animal trainers. We screen tested ten of 12 pigs until we found one with the right combination of talent and personality. Some pigs have it, and others don't. Arnold had it.
Q—Has stardom changed Arnold?
A—Yes, for the better. He's a much more professional actor now, although I think he always had a lot of ham in him. No pun intended. He comes on the set prepared. He knows his lines. He waits quietly at the other end of the studio when he's not in a scene.

Q—Does Arnold have any unusual talents?
A—Yes. He can turn on a television set with his nose ... I mean his snout. Not many pigs can do that.
Q—How does he get along with the other actors in the show.
A—We have several animals on Green Acres and I'm proud to say they're like one big happy family. There is no professional jealousy in our stock company, if you'll pardon the expression.
Q—Who are some of the others?
A—Let's see ... we have a piano playing chicken. And we once used a tap-dancing horse. Then there's Eleanor, the cow, who doesn't really do any tricks but has a terrific personality.
Q—What about Eva Gabor and Eddie Albert?
A—They don't do any tricks, either, but they have terrific personalities.
Q—I meant how does Arnold get along with them?
A—He respects them as fellow professionals. There was only one bad moment—when Eva played her first scene with Arnold. She cried out, "Darling, you don't mean it. I'm not co-starring with an . . . ugh . . . pig! ! ! Arnold's feelings were hurt, but they're great pals now. Q—Would you say that Arnold is a born actor?
A—Yes. He follows the Stanislavasky [sic] "method," which, stated simply, means playing a role naturally, drawing on one's feelings. His characterization never falters. He always comes across as a pig.
Q—Is it difficult to write for Arnold?
A—In writing for any animal, I follow one simple rule. I t[r]eat them as I would human characters, giving each one a definite point of view. Otherwise, there's no humor. The script may say, "Arnold grunts in disappointment" or "Arnold registers surprise," but never just "Arnold grunts." The director and the other actors have to know what Arnold is grunting about, so they can play against him.
Q—Can you sum up your feelings about Arnold?
A—To the rest of the world, Arnold may be just, a pig. To me, he's a focal character, in a television series. I just hope that, despite all this attention, he stays the same sweet, wonderful pig he is today.

The Associated Press caught up with Sommers after the third season. This column appeared in papers on August 21, 1968.

Pig In ‘Green Acres’ Gets A Fatter Status
By CYNTHIA LOWRY
HOLLYWOOD (AP) — Arnold Ziffel, a cast regular in "Green Acres" for the past four seasons, has finally achieved featured-player rank in the series. Now the show's producer and the CBS television network plan to spin Arnold off to star in his own series.
This is not exactly unprecedented in television: The only thing that makes it unusual is that Arnold is a young pig.
Arnold—or rather Arnold and Baby, his stand-in—were working Tuesday at the studio with the trainer. Neither seemed interested in anything but a bit of dog food, rewards for learning, on command, to trot up to a mail box, open it, remove a letter and return to Glen Gamer, their drama coach.
Jay Sommers, "Green Acres" producer, slipped Arnold into the show for off-beat comedy value early in its run. The pig was treated like a child by the Ziffel family. Then Frank Inn, who specializes in training what he calls "picture" animals—from assorted critters of the "Beverly Hillbillies" to the performing cats of "Rhubarb"—taught the original Arnold and his twin so many unusual tricks that the role became stronger and stronger. Arnold learned to turn on and off a television set—he likes only Westerns. Arnold learned to pull a little cart, so one story was built around the porker and his newspaper route. It built and built.

Arnold suddenly started getting lots of fan mail, kids all over the country wrote in asking for autographed pictures and official permission to start Arnold Ziffel fan clubs. Eva Gabor, never one to be upstaged by a human, much less a pig, trotted Arnold out on Joey Bishop's stage one night and the hammy actor, in jeweled collar and leash, stopped the show. He is now besieged with requests for personal appearances.
Sommers said he has a network deal to develop a show called "Arnold," perhaps for next season, and plans to base the story line on having Arnold inherit $80 million—in trust, of course—and leave the Ziffels to go to New York. Among other things, he'll buy a hotel when it won't admit a pig; buy a stockyard to liberate fellow porkers.
Sommers is intrigued and amused with the idea—and also very aware of the popular and financial success of such shows as "Lassie," "Flipper" and now, "Gentle Ben."
"I think you can do even more with a pig—in comedy anyway —than with a bear," he said. "We can also insert some oblique social commentary.
In next season's opening “Green Acres” show, Arnold will win an all-expense trip to Hawaii, but in the climactic scene, turn it down when he finds that he will be guest of honor at a luau—the Hawaiian feast which centers around a roast pig.

The series’ ratings dropped in the final two seasons, though it didn’t make much difference. CBS was determined to get rid of any show with a rural tinge, and swept Green Acres off the air in 1971, ignoring the fact it had become a social satire as much as anything else (perhaps because it was not as heavy-handed at it as All in the Family, the network’s new darling). To engage in the kind of egregious pun Sommers liked to spout in interviews, no longer did Arnold bring home the bacon.

The Arrow That Loved His Job

Crotch and butt violation jokes were as much a part of animated cartoons as Mickey Mouse’s round ears. Even Hanna-Barbera got laughs with Yogi Bear being shot in the rear by an arrow.

Here’s an example of an arrow enjoying his crotchy assignment a little too much. It’s from Robin Hood, Jr., a 1933 Ub Iwerks cartoon. It starts with Maid Marian sending a message by carrier pigeon (Eastern Union) to Robin Hood, Jr. to rescue her. But the evil King John sees the bird, so he gets his hoodlum crow to stop that pigeon.

There’s a nice bit of cycle animation of the birds fighting in mid-air. We’ll give you a couple of drawings.



Robin, Jr. and his Merry Men see what’s happening and Robin (who is really Willie Whopper telling one of his whoppers) dispatches an arrow to take care of the situation. The arrow grows a head with a large open smile. He goes right for the crotch. Both the arrow and crow seem to enjoy it all.



The arrow now develops a determined expression and brings Maid Marian’s message to Robin, Jr.



There’s an effeminate joke as well because, well, that was a part of ‘30s cartoons as well. All Robin Hood, Jr. is missing is a radio programme catchphrase.

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.