The Pepe Bounce

Anyone who’s seen a Pepe Le Pew cartoon will remember the routine where a cat-turned-skunk is desperately fleeing from him, slowing down from exhaustion, while Pepe maintains an even, bouncy trot accompanied by little curly-cue notes on a violin.

In the first Pepe cartoon, The Odor-Able Kitty, the trot is in a cycle of 12 drawings.



Bobe Cannon is the credited animator, while Tedd Pierce gets the story credit in this Warner Bros. cartoon by Chuck Jones that seems to have been intended as a one-shot (credits are from the Catalog of Copyright Entries, Motion Pictures 1940-49).

Age, Television and Taste

If a survey was taken to name a character trait of Jack Benny, “39” would be somewhere on the list.

Actually, Jack Benny never purported to be 39 years old during the bulk of his career; the age was invented on a radio show in 1948. And because “40 isn’t funny,” as Jack once put it, he stayed 39—with the exception of one Shower of Stars TV special in 1958 where he turned 40, and then treated like it never happened.

Benny had thought about doing it earlier but kept changing his mind. Here’s proof in a story from the Bell Syndicate that appeared in newspapers on May 14, 1955. Several other topics are touched upon including his coming grandchild and Mary not wanting to be on his TV show while just about everyone else did. Of note is the reference to Benny continuing with his Sunday night radio show. He continued for a grand total of two more programmes. American Tobacco wasn’t certain it wanted to keep paying for an expensive radio show in a less-profitable medium. Nobody knew it when this article was published, but a deal couldn’t be worked out and Jack’s show disappeared (with the exception of “Best of Benny” reruns which began in 1956).

Enough Mileage From Gag
Jack Benny Makes Astounding Report—He'll Be 40 Next Year!
By MARGARET McMANUS
NEW YORK—Jack Benny, on the threshold of becoming a grandfather, has made a momentous announcement.
Benny, aged 39 for more years than anyone cares to remember, revealed for the first time in an interview here in his suite at the St. Regis Hotel, that next year he will go to 40.
"It has nothing to do with my becoming a grandfather," said Benny. "I just think I've gotten about enough mileage out of that gag."
On Sunday, Feb. 12, 1956, on his nation-wide television show, Benny will mark the historic occasion with a birthday party and a birthday cake—and presents, he hopes.
The celebration will be two days earlier than his actual birthday, which is Feb. 14.
However, it is indeed a moment to anticipate with poignant sadness. In this turbulent world of chaos and change, there is little to which one can hold. Up to now, there was at least one security, that Jack Benny, the Ponce de Leon of radio and television, would stay 39.
Relaxed, Agreeable

A relaxed, agreeable man, with astute blue eyes and enormous poise, he yawned through a warm Saturday afternoon in mid-Manhattan and spoke about his plans for the coming summer.
"I'm tired," he said. "I've been working hard and there's a lot of work ahead. I'm going back to the Coast now and we'll spend the month of June filming some of next year's television shows."
He said he much prefers to do the television shows live, but he plans to do about six or eight on film so that if he wants to get away for a couple of weeks during the winter, he's free to do it.
Benny, after 20 some years in radio, is now very partial to television, although when he first made friends with this new medium, he didn't much like it.
He disagrees, with his old feuding partner, Fred Allen, that radio is dead. One of the very few big radio stars to stay on in radio, Benny continues to do his Sunday night radio show in the same comfortable, familiar format.
After spending an industrious month of June on the Coast, the Bennys will return to New York in July, accompanied by their closest friends, George Burns and Gracie Allen.
The Benny's only child, Mrs. Seth Baker, wife of a New York stock broker, is expecting a baby, July 9, and they will stay here to await the arrival of their first grandchild and spend a week or so getting acquainted with it.
"I hope it will be a girl," said Mr. Benny, the poker-faced, nonsentimentalist. "I like little girls."
He said that this is the first summer he has not made any personal appearances, but with the television shows to put on film, and the coming of the baby, it turned out to be impossible.
He even had to cancel his plans to appear at the Palladium in London.
He added, however. "We're considering the month of July as our vacation. We always have a lot of fun with the Burns. They're wonderful people, just wonderful. George and I are bringing our golf clubs. Gracie and Mary will shop, probably for small garments."
Mrs. Benny, nee Mary Livingstone, will appear on some of Benny's filmed TV shows next year, but Benny said she is just too nervous about doing live television.
TV Bothers Mary
"She was going to be on our last television program, the one we did from here," said her husband, "but she backed out when we got to New York. I don't know why. It just bothers her."
Apparently nobody else in New York or Hollywood feels any nervousness about appearing on the Jack Benny show.
Numerous stars, Claudette Colbert, Barbara Stanwyck, Jimmy Stewart, Humphrey Bogart, Marilyn Monroe—all made their television debut on Benny's show.
"We have a good time doing the show. They know it will be fun," said Mr. Benny, casually dismissing the reason why so many established performers prefer to make their television debut in his company.
A colleague of Mr. Benny's was heard from.
"It's very simple why nobody is afraid to go on Jack's show," he said. "It's because everybody knows he won't hog all the good lines for himself. They all know that, to make the most of the show, Jack will probably throw them the best lines.
"Another thing, he'll never do anything that isn't in good taste. So many comedians don't care how ridiculous other people look, so long as they are funny."
Benny bowed deeply and said, "You're so very kind."
Suave and sure in manner, Benny is the antithesis of the tightwad, defensive, petulant character he has created for himself these many years.
In private conversation, Benny uses none of the exquisite pauses which so typify his character. In a much modified way, some of his familiar inflections are the same, but to add to the shattering disillusionment of the afternoon, not once, not even once, did he pause, stare coldly and say:
"Well!"
Forty years old indeed!

Private First Class Batman

The mood on social media was sombre, even respectful.

Batman had died.

Well, if you grew up in the 1960s, he was Batman. The only Batman. Those guys in the movies later on didn’t count.

And a week after Adam West’s death, people are still posting about it on-line, about how the city of Los Angeles paid a fitting tribute to West’s memory by shining the Bat Signal, just like on West’s TV show (and the comics before then).

I didn’t write about West and the show immediately after the death because I said pretty much all I had to say in this post about five years ago. The first season was great. I loved Frank Gorshin, Burgess Meredith and Cesar Romero. But then ... well, the target viewership—boys like me—started rolling our eyes at how ridiculous it got. And when an 11-year-old is thinking “Oh, please!” while he’s watching Batman play a flute as obviously mechanical mice roll off a pier, you’ve lost your audience. The writers and producers left adventure behind and larded up on the camp. It killed the show.

Anyway, I’ve decided to post something because buried deep within microfilms of old newspapers is found something you probably haven’t read in any of the obituaries, remembrances and tributes to Adam West. It has some funny personal stories from an army buddy of his—better make that an “old chum”—and was published in The Christian Science Monitor of April 12, 1966. The photos with this post come from the Associated Press.

Meet the man behind Batman’s mask
By Milton Gun
Boston
“Wow, that’s it!” I exclaimed while viewing a recent Batman episode. “I’ve unearthed the true identity of the Caped Crusader.”
“Everyone knows,” answered my wife, a victim of so-called Batmania, “that’s he’s Bruce Wayne, young millionaire, a dedicated crime fighter who springs into disguise and action as the fearsome Batman whenever evil threatens.”
“No, I mean that I know his true off-camera identity,” I persisted.
“Adam West,” she replied matter-of-factly. “He’s a popular TV actor. Been in hundreds of television commercials and was in ‘The Detectives’ with Robert Taylor.”
“I knew him as Bill Anderson,” I said. “Pfc. William Anderson of the United States Army’s Signal Corps.”
Her answering indescribable stare was upsetting enough to make me set out to verify that Batman is, indeed, an old Army buddy.
Several weeks, letters, and cross-country phone calls later I was basking in the glow of my wife’s idolizing glances. She had listened in on a phone conversation between me and my old friend Batman, alias Bruce Wayne—better known as actor Adam West, nee [sic] William “Bill” Anderson.
● ● ●

She has since bestowed upon me the exalted title “Bat-friend.”
I first met Pfc. Bill Anderson in 1953 in California’s Camp San Luis Obispo where we had been assigned to help establish the first Army post television station. Our backgrounds in radio and television—Bill had been a writer-producer for a Stanford TV station prior to entering the service—made us logical choices for the San Luis Obispo assignment.
My first, and lasting, impression of Anderson was of his personally tailored, custom-fitting uniforms. He was the only nonofficer I had seen in such fine regalia. It’s wasn’t long before the tall, handsome, and studio-looking (he wore horn-rimmed spectacles in those days) Pfc’s capabilities became evident. A former radio-station manager and TV producer, Bill took charge of the production phase of the operation. Soon the station was on a full-time schedule and the facilities fast became a popular site for visiting Armed Forces V.I.P.’s.
The tongue-in-cheek, melodramatic dialogue that has made the current Batman series so irresistible to adults was practiced by Anderson back in those Army TV days.
During one of the several instructional programs that were telecast each day, an electronics-class lecturer continually referred to the industry’s great advancements and credited its great strides with the phrase “. . . and we owe it all to transistors.” He used that expression so often throughout the show that it caught on with the TV crew and subsequently became a catch-phrase that would pop up with regularity. Any conversation concerning any subject from food in the mess hall, to pretty girls or, for that matter, the state of the nation, would inevitably terminate with “. . . and we owe it all to transistors.”
Anderson, usually responsible for conducting V.I.P.’s on a tour of the facilities, would always conclude the demonstration by maneuvering the brass-bearing officers within pickup distance of a microphone and summarize the tour by dramatically intoning, “And all this, gentlemen, we owe to transistors.” The officers would nod solemnly while those of us in the control room howled with laughter.
● ● ●
The recent clamor by the Automobile Legal Association revived memories of Bill’s driving antics and his unique car. The ALA contended that Batman was setting a bad example for drivers. In one episode alone, claimed the Association, Batman disregarded a half-dozen driving rules. Bill drove about in a squat, antiquated foreign car. Unlike the four-wheeled, crime-thwarting Batmobile he drives in the Batman series, the auto was the object of a steady stream of barbs and jibes from members of the TV section. This often ruffled Anderson, whose continual attempts to impress us with the car’s speed and maneuverability resulted in his becoming an unpopular notable with the post’s Military Police.
The little car, often referred to as “the rock,” “puddle-jumper,” or “the toy,” was “car-napped” from the parking lot one day. The TV crew contrived to carry it into the TV building and place it on one of the television stages about to be used in a rehearsal. Bill, assigned to direct a rehearsal, was busily checking the scripts in the control room. When he finally cued the opening sequence of the show, there appeared, in all its ugliness, Anderson’s relic, smack in the middle of a classroom scene.
Bill remained unflustered and went right along with the gag. “No, no,” he shouted, “You’ve got the ‘puddle-jumper’ pointed in the wrong direction!” And then joined the crew in a hearty laugh.
During our recent phone conversation Bill acknowledged his good fortune in landing the Batman role. However, he pointed out that the opportunity came only after a difficult climb up the long ladder to success.
After completing our tour of duty at San Luis Obispo and a similar station-establishment assignment at Fort Monmouth, N.J., Bill celebrated his return to civilian life with a walking tour of Europe.
● ● ●

“I was quite uncertain about my future when I got out of the service,” he confessed. “I thought I wanted to do some writing but wound up doing a lot of absorbing—seeking a purpose, a goal. I subsequently traveled to Hawaii where I returned to direct and, occasionally, act in a good number of TV productions. I eventually returned to the mainland to sign a Warner Brothers contract. They had selected me for the lead in a new TV series called ‘Dark Holiday’ which never got off the ground.”
Actor Adam West spent a year appearing in various Warner Brothers TV productions including “77 Sunset Strip” and “Maverick.” “The Young Philadelphians” was one of eight movies in which he appeared. “Most of them were ‘B’ movies,” he admits. “But coupled with numerous TV appearances they gave me a chance to develop and the opportunity to learn a lot about my craft.”
He got one of the better opportunities when he was cast in the romantic lead, Sgt. Steve Nelson, in the ABC-TV series “The Detectives.” However, it was one of his several hundred TV commercials that led to his being offered the Batman role. “It was the Captain Quick commercial that caught the eye of the Batman producers,” said Bill. “I was wearing a similar costume in that spot and the dialogue was comparable to that in the Batman series, and I guess that did it.” Asked what he thought was the nicest part of his work, Adam answered unhesitatingly, “Getting out of my Batman tights.”
And the most difficult? “Keeping a straight face through some of the dialogue.”
The protagonist who leaped from the pages of a 27-year-old comic strip into millions of TV homes is readily recognized by every American youngster as Batman. Adult television viewers know him as actor Adam West. But his Army buddies will always remember him as Pfc. Bill Anderson.

Making Shorts

What did you think of the Mirthquake Comedies? Or the Vagabond Adventure Series? Or Going Places With Lowell Thomas? They were among the “selected shorts” that theatres were offering in 1935 along with the better-known March of Time, and the Fitzpatrick Traveltalks (such as “Colorful Guatamala” and “Los Angeles, Wonder City of the West”).

Likely you’ve never seen many of the shorts produced back then (Mirthquake starred George Shelton and Tom Howard, by the way). They appeared on screen and then disappeared, with the idea they’d never be seen again. When television came around and local stations needed to fill air time, what was old and worthless to movie studios proved to be a gold-mine for TV syndication companies—at least in some cases, especially when it could appeal to kids. So those of you who grew up in the ’50s and ‘60s had your fill—and maybe couldn’t get enough—of the Three Stooges shorts, the Our Gang comedies, the Laurel and Hardy two-reelers and, especially, the animated cartoons. Alas for Junior Coghlan, his Frolics of Youth series didn’t make the cut. Neither did RKO’s Blondes and Redheads shorts starring Carol Tevis and Dot Grainger.

Here’s a little story on short subjects from the National Enterprise Association. It appeared in newspapers on August 17, 1935. A good portion of it involves making cartoons. The article lists a number of the series, with the reporter apparently unaware of the poor, disrespected Van Beuren studio. Flip the Frog wasn’t being made by 1935 but it’s nice of the writer to have noticed something by Ub Iwerks.

By the way, a number of years ago, the wonderful Leonard Maltin filled a void by writing about live-action shorts in his book “Selected Short Subjects.” You can read a bit about it on his page, where he links to Amazon on how to buy a copy from that financially struggling company.

How Movies Are Made
Industry Is Ever-Changing With Animated Cartoons, News Reels and Comedies Fast Assuming High Rank—Short Subjects Are Becoming Rivals of Big Productions of Filmdom
BY DAN THOMAS
NEA Service Staff Correspondent
HOLLYWOOD — The primary function of the movie industry is, of course, to produce feature length pictures.
But the activity doesn't stop there by any means. Short subjects—animated cartoons, comedies, newsreels, travelogs, and novelties also are necessary to give theaters well-balanced programs.
Of these films, cartoons and newsreels are by far the most popular. In fact, they frequently attain an importance equal to that of a feature picture.

Many patrons are lured into theaters by cartoons. And newsreels now are demanded as a part of every bill.
Interesting as cartoons and newsreels may be to audiences, however, their production is a hundred times more fascinating.
Cartoons, particularly, enjoy a niche all by themselves, being the only type of entertainment that is wholly hand made. Today there are about nine different cartoons, including "Mickey Mouse," "Silly Symphonies," "Pop Eye the Sailor," "Oswald the Rabbit," "Bosko," "Krazy Kat," "Merrie Melodies," "Flip the Frog," and "Terry Tunes."
As the production method on each is virtually the same, let's take a peek at the Walt Disney studio, home of "Mickey Mouse" and the "Silly Symphonies" and see what happens.
DISNEY HAS STAFF OF 300
The pictures are about 650 feet in length. And, although Disney makes only 18 of them each year, he employs a staff of 300 persons.
The first step coincides with that of a feature picture. A story must be written. Then it is put into regular scenario form, with every detail of the action explained. Different scenes are then handed to the animators for drawing. They sketch the key drawings, usually every third one, leaving the mothers for their assistants.
All drawings then are sent to the inking department, where a corps of artists goes over the penciled sketches with ink. Tracing is the next step. Every drawing must be traced in ink on a sheet of celluloid. Then it is painted.
The next job is to match the various sets of drawings which belong together. As a rule, four sheets of celluloid are combined to make one complete picture for photographing. For instance, if Mickey, Pluto, and Donald Duck are walking along a dusty road, one artist draws Mickey, another Pluto, a third Donald Duck, and a fourth the background.
After being traced, they are assembled and photographed. Sixteen of these composite pictures are needed to make one foot of film.
LITTLE CUTTING ON CARTOON

There's virtually no cutting or editing on a cartoon after it's finished. Since the work is slow and painstaking, that is all done before-hand.
It would be impossible to watch a single newsreel in the making, as various scenes in it may be filmed in the United States, South America, Italy, Russia, and Japan simultaneously.
Newsreel companies, controlled by various major studios, have cameramen stationed in all parts of the world. These men work very much like newspaper reporters.
They must be ready at a moment's notice to "cover" any activity, ranging from a disastrous earthquake to crowning a prize-winning hog.
All film for United States consumption is then rushed to New York, where it is assembled and the voice of the commentator added. Then it's dispatched to various key cities by the fastest planes or trains.
GOOD RETURN IN COMEDIES
Next in importance among short subjects are the two-reel comedies. Virtually all of them are now turned out by two companies Hal Roach and Educational.
While handled on a much smaller scale, they are made exactly the same as feature pictures. The principal difference lies in the cost and gross receipts. The average cost is $25,000 and the average return about $50,000.
Naturally, the stars of these comedies receive lower salaries than those in feature pictures, the top being about $1,000 weekly. And the pictures are usually made in 10 days.
One-reel musicals and novelties, which are steadily gaining in popularity, are now being produced by nearly all major companies. Generally speaking, their production follows the same line as that of a feature. But they seldom use more than two sets and are made in two or three days.
STARS COME HIGH
Usually their actual production cost is around $5,000, although the total cost is jumped considerably when high-priced persons must be engaged for them. The Pete Smith aborts come in this category, with Pete probably receiving more than is spent on the rest of the picture.
The same holds true when an important orchestra or vaudeville headliner is featured.
Travelogs are of value principally because of the bit of wanderlust that lurks in most hearts. An imaginative person can watch them and actually believe he to going right along with the cameramen.
Very often the cameramen on these little pictures have no definite assignments. They roam at large, seeking unusual locales or places of great scenic beauty.
Since the expense of taking sound equipment with them would be too great, they shoot with silent cameras. Explanatory remarks and background music are added later in the studios here.
(THE END)

Tea Time For Tex

Reginald Fox doesn't let something silly as a hunt stop him from enjoying his tea. He's English, you know.

I like the expression of the dog as he wonders where the fox has gone. It turns out Reginald is behind him. Director Tex Avery and writer Rich Hogan switch things. Instead of showing the fox drinking tea through the scene, they change it to the fox pouring it.



The animators of "Out-Foxed" are Walt Clinton, Bobe Cannon, Mike Lah and Grant Simmons.

Suddenly, They're Contented

Brenda and Cobina were characters on Bob Hope's radio show, with names borrowed from a pair of socialites well-known in that era. And they're also the names of two cows in the Bob Clampett short "Goofy Groceries" (1941).

I love the expressions, even in the in-betweens. Here are some of them.



There are plenty of pop culture references. The "Discontented" comes from the slogan for Carnation Evaporated Milk, which came from "contented cows." Brenda and Cobina cows are reacting to a bull on the package of "Fulla Bull Tobacco," a parody on Bull Durham tobacco.

The original credits on this cartoon listed Tubby Millar as the story man and Vive Risto as the animator. On the Hope show, Brenda was played by Blanche Stewart and Cobina by Elvia Allman. In this cartoon, as best as I can tell, Sara Berner is playing both parts. Allman had done cartoon voices for Leon Schlesinger; maybe Leon didn't want to pay to use her. Stewart had voiced cartoons at MGM. (No, Bea Benaderet is not in this cartoon).

Our (First) Regularly Scheduled Programme

When was the first regular schedule of TV programming?

Would you believe 1928?

Yes, that was the year WGY, your friendly General Electric radio station in Schenectady, New York, decided the time was ripe to beam telecasts into homes on a regular basis. Only there really wasn’t much programming in those days.

On January 13, 1928, WGY made what it said was the first televised broadcast into people’s homes. Three of them to be precise. Newspapers raved about the picture that came through the 3 inch-by 3 inch screen, but it couldn’t have been that terrific. The New York Times reported the programming consisted of a man (Leslie Wilkins) smoking and another man (Louis Dean) playing a ukulele. The New York Herald Tribune said it was a woman smoking and a man playing a banjo. The Schenectady Gazette was silent on the genders of the performers and only stated that instruments were played.

Nevertheless, WGY continued with its experimental broadcasts, with the picture on 37.8 metres and the sound on 379.5 metres (790 kilocycles). Reported the Times on May 11, 1928:

WGY TODAY TO START TELEVISION PROGRAMS
General Electric Company Will Broadcast Pictures Three Times a Week

The General Electric Company will start this afternoon a regular schedule of television broadcasting for the benefit of experiments and amateurs who have constructed television sets. Between 1:30 and 2 P. M. Eastern Daylight Time, it will send pictures from its laboratories in Schenectady over WGY, according to Martin P. Rice, manager of broadcasting. Hereafter on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays at the same time WGY will broadcast for television sets.
Faces of men talking, laughing or smoking will be broadcast today. No elaborate effects will be attempted in the near future.
WGY broadcast television a few minutes last night so that listener[s] might recognize the peculiar sounds which accompany the transmission of pictures by radio. The signal is an intermittent, high-pitched whirr, the pitch varying with the action before the transmitter.
The regular schedule is designed primarily to assist engineers in the development of a reliable and complete system of television, but is expected that radio amateurs may contribute something to the new art.

Radio magazines keenly followed television with in-depth articles and ads from companies with the materials needed to build your very own set at home. This was the era of mechanical television. That meant a scanning wheel at a studio transmitted the images to peoples’ homes; at WGY, the wheel scanned 24 lines, 20 times a second. Not exactly high-def. But it was a miracle for 1928.

So how many amateurs with home-built sets caught the first, regularly scheduled TV programme? None. At least that WGY knew about. Here’s the Times again, part of a story from May 20th:

TELEVISION WAVES PASS UNNOTICED
No One Reports Seeing Images Broadcast by WGY—Sale of Aluminum and Neon Lamps Reveals Great Activity in Boston
THE first week of television broadcasts from WGY, Schenectady, N.Y., have traveled off into the infinite without the slightest notice, according to a representative of the station. No one has reported reception of the moving images that have been wafted into space from the Mohawk Valley during the past week.

“Our plans to broadcast television appear to have made a hit, but so far no one has reported picking up the signals,” said a representative of WGY. “Boston has been most active in television plans. We have learned that more than 2,000 pounds of sheet aluminum have been sold there in the past few weeks for revolving discs, and several thousand neon lamps have been sold. We, of course, have received many requests for information on the building of television sets.”
Experimenters Are Active.
Radio amateur experimenters are displaying astonishing interest in television, and the reception of pictures by radio, according to the mail being received by the General Electric Company, at Schenectady, N.Y. The pleas from amateurs that WGY broadcast moving images instead of still pictures led to the decision to adopt a regular schedule for radio motion picture broadcasts on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, between 1:30 and 2 P.M., Eastern Daylight Saving Time. The 380-meter wave is used.
To the few who have television receivers motion pictures will appear. To the millions using standard broadcast receivers tuned to the 380-meter channel the ether wave carrying moving images sounds like howls, squeals and a series of clicks.
“The interest on the part of amateurs in television is astonishing,” said the WGY representative. “We have received hundreds of letters asking for our television schedule, which up to the present time, has been irregular. The amateurs ask that we give them something to work with, so we selected a fixed schedule. It’s anybody’s opportunity now. We have also received many letters asking where a certain type of neon lamp could be purchased, because it is the heart of the television receiver. Now that we have adopted a regular time for television broadcasts it will help us continue our own work, because a stage of development has been reached where a fixed schedule will aid our research engineers.
“I want to make it clear that these early television pictures will not be masterpieces. But no matter what we put on the air, the television experimenters at this stage of the development will not be too critical. They must not expect a fine picture. They should be happy just to catch a glimpse of a moving image, whether it be a research engineer, a pretty girl, a horse or a camel. The nature of the picture should make no difference.” He said the television broadcasts were merely intended to give greater scope to the experimental field. He said no idea existed at Schenectady when television receivers would be placed on the market for the public.
WRNY Plans Tests.
Station WRNY, operating on the 326-meter channel, is scheduled to begin a series of television tests on June 10, based upon a system developed by T.H. Nakken, President of the Nakken Television Corporation of Brooklyn, N.Y.

Mr. Nakken said that his plan is to introduce a system of television that can be used by any broadcasting station under present conditions; that is, when the waves are not more than ten kilocycle apart. If a wider ethereal band could be used, he said that the images might be more pleasant to look at, but today the air is so overcrowded with stations that a suitable wave band is not available for television. This presents one disadvantage in the fact that there is likely to be a slight flicker as one image leaves the screen and the next begins. This limitation can be eliminated as soon as a wider band is made available for television broadcasts, according to Mr. Nakken.
Federal Radio Commissioner O.H. Caldwell has sounded the warning that television will sooner or later face the inescapable fact that “our varied radio services tap and utilize only a single great common conductor, the ether, and that the places in this radio spectrum are numbered and rigidly limited. Thus television by radio—the supreme achievement of the science of communication—may, when generally made available, find itself stifled by the very number and tenacity of its predecessors in the radio field.

WGY continued with its thrice-a-week schedule, occasionally adding other TV broadcasts. In late August, the station was hailed for airing Al Smith’s acceptance speech for the Democratic Party’s presidential nomination. Then on September 11th, it broadcast what was claimed to be the first televised drama, a two-person play called “The Queen's Messenger” with Izetta Jewel and the English-born Maurice Randall as the characters and Joyce Evans Rector and William J. Toniski as their hands. Meanwhile, WRNY finally got its TV casts on the air in August, broadcasting an extensive schedule of visual shows during the day.



Both carried on with their regular TV broadcasts until the end of March 1929. The stations were plagued mainly with regulatory problems. The F.R.C. first ordered WGY to sign off early to protect KGO’s signal from Oakland then demanded all television activity on radio frequencies cease on January 1, 1929 because of the interference it caused other stations. WGY got a judge to put the order on hold, as the new NBC red network took up more and more of its schedule. Meanwhile, WRNY sank deeper and deeper into debt and was finally auctioned (with other assets of its parent company) for $90,000.

WGY-TV left the radio band, but that didn’t end General Electric’s television experiments in Scheneectady. And when commercial broadcasting was allowed in 1941, the station, known as W2XB by then, received a commercial license as WRGB the following year. It’s still on the air today.

The Pancakes Are Panned

Betty Boop's pancakes fly around her diner and out through the chimney into the night air. Even the moon eats a couple. But there's one problem. They're not edible.

Everyone gets sick on them, including a customer that spins and turns into a knot, a stove and the diner itself. Customers jump out the window and moan in a circle outside.



The moon gets sick, too, and is taken away by two stars on a stretcher, while a third replaces it with an oil lamp.



Seymour Kneitel and Bernie Wolf are the credited animators in "Betty Boop's Busy Bee" (1932).