Ben Blue will vie with Lucille Ball in the Jack Benny Special Wednesday night. The show depicts a carnival with all its odd characters played by a host of stars. Benny himself plays everything from con man to owner of the carnival.
Jack Benny Special On WednesdayVariety gave the special a lukewarm review. It praised Lucy, called the writing “clichéd,” gave Jack a passing grade solely because was Jack Benny, but was sour about the walk-on appearances of George Burns, Bob Hope, Danny Thomas and Don Drysdale (among others). As it was, television would soon be moving away from variety shows, but Jack remained a star until the end. So did Lucy and Johnny. Ben Blue wasn’t as lucky.
HOLLYWOOD — Think about Jack Benny, and what comes to mind — a penny-pinching comedian, perennially claiming to be 39, and a squeaky violin.
Lucille Ball, Johnny Carson, and Ben Blue also conjure up instant public images. But how does Jack Benny think of them? Benny expressed his views of them in connection with their forthcoming appearance as guest stars on "The Jack Benny Special," to be colorcast over the NBC Television Network Wednesday, March 20.
"Lucy and I have been friends for many years," said Benny. "I consider her one of the real great pros that we have in show business. There isn't anything she doesn't know about all the different branches of the business. She's a terrific comedienne who instinctively knows what to do and what not to about comedy. She knows equally as much about production and she’d be a great director."
Benny enjoys alternating shows with her. "She's a perfectionist and meticulate and I try to be the same," he said. "When she asks me to be on her show I don't even ask what the story is about or to see the script. I know it'll be good and I am positive that I will never be embarrassed. I think she feels the same way about me."
In short, Benny admires Lucy. "Lucy is the type of person I have great admiration for because I love show business and to be associated with the giants in the business," he said. "She certainly is a giant and loves to work hard. She can do really anything."
Benny is impressed with Johnny Carson. "I'm a great fan of Johnny's," he said. "Not only do feel he's a fine entertainer but I always notice a terrific improvement each year, which means he absorbs a lot, learns a lot and that he must study quite a bit to hold down the kind of job he has." Continued Benny: "He's not only a fine comedian but a great straight man. You have to be both, particularly in his kind of work. That's why everyone loves Johnny Carson as Johnny Carson."
Benny considers Ben Blue a great comedian but an enigma. “I always felt that he was one of our great comedians,” said Benny. “But something, which I can’t figure out, has kept him from being one of our greatest visual comedians and pantomimists. He’s a fine artist and actually conceded to be among other entertainers, a real funny man—a comedian in every sense of the word. Sid (Fields) is particularly good for Ben and is a great straight man.”
Benny has managed to enjoy the best of two worlds—show business and music. Said he of the TV special, “I’m tremendously pleased with it.” He is also pleased with his benefit concerts, realizing that he is doing more for music than he might have done had he followed strictly a musical career. "I don't do enough concerts to suit me," he said. "I like them better than anything. I practice a lot, anywhere from a half hour to three hours a day. I also listen to music quite a bit, particularly since I've been giving concerts. I found myself a lover of good music. I never realized I liked good music that much."
He feels personally rewarded in a special way. Said he: “The reason I like appearing with a symphony orchestra is that it’s the most dignified background a comedian could be given. It is unusual and it doesn’t fit anyone else, except maybe Danny Kaye.”
BACKSTAGE ON TV When you hear the Beatles speak on their new cartoon show on ABC-TV next fall, it will be two other fellows. As explained by Al Brodax, director of TV for King Features Syndicate producer of the show, the Beatles' Liverpudlian accents are too difficult for U. S. audiences to catch in a cartoon. And even if they were readily understandable, they don't have enough "separation" between one and the other. In a cartoon, explained Brodax, each of the principal voices must be unmistakably different from the other. Brodax announced he's signed Lance Pervical, English TV personality, to do the voices of John and George. The voices of Paul and Ringo and many bit parts will be played by Paul Frees, an American voice specialist. But when you hear the Beatles sing on their cartoon show (four numbers per stanza) that's really them. The show debuts Sept. 25.And another newspaper publicity blurb revealed:
The shrieking of the Beatles fans that viewers will hear in many of the "Beatles" cartoons is authentic. The producer, Al Brodax, recorded the shrieks with portable equipment while attending the Beatles' concert in New York City's Shea Stadium this past August. (Rochester Democrat, Oct. 3, 1965).Here’s an item from—could it be coincidence?—King Features Syndicate published in papers on November 5, 1965.
Beatles Cartoon Hits The Top
By HARVEY PACK
NEW YORK — The most successful new show of the season, according to the ratings, is a cartoon series called "The Beatles" seen every Saturday morning on ABC. It boasts a better than 30 per cent share of sets in use (over 33 per cent is excellent), and its over-all rating at 13 tops any other daytime show except for the World Series.
All the Beatles had to do to start this phenomenal show in motion was agree to accept a big bundle of money, allow their records to be used on the sound track, and then let the pros take it from there. And they call that "A Hard Day's Night?"
Produced and distributed by King Features, the program is the brain-child of executive producer Al Brodax who readily admits he wasn't the only one out to sign the Beatles as a TV cartoon feature. But his proposed formula was the most practical and apparently appealed to Beatles mentor Brian Epstein, so he received the nod.
"I knew it would be a hit," explained Al, "but I think it has gone way past my estimates. Of course we're working very hard trying to meet the deadlines, but now that we're rolling I think the next series will be a lot easier."
Produced In England
"The Beatles" is primarily done in an English studio so Brodax is virtually a London-New York commuter. The voices are provided by British Lance Percival and American Paul Frees who record their contribution in England.
The cartoons, which run about five minutes each, are all based to Beatle recordings which are used for background. The pace of the episodes and even the style of presentation are quite similar to the highly successful Beatles film "A Hard Day's Night." Brodax does not deny the similarity and he's quite pleased when a viewer notices it.
Flushed with success, Mr. Brodax has now embarked on a campaign of signing teen-age musical stars for future shows. He now has Herman's Hermits and Freddie and the Dreamers ready to go, one in animation and the other live.
"I watch those top 40 record lists like a vulture," he laughed. "If we can get them inked before they hit the top we'll save a lot of money. The fact that 'Shindig' and similar shows are fading in the ratings this year actually encourages me. The major difference between our presentation and that of a 'Shindig' or a 'Hullabaloo' is the incorporation of a solid storyline. In effect, we do a musical comedy — a weekly 'Fantasia,' so to speak, starring the Marx Brothers. We know from record sales and our own show's ratings that the youngsters still want to hear the music so we can only assume they want a new style of presentation and we think we've got it."
The Face Is FamiliarAnd now to the Los Angeles Times syndicate and a story originally published February 23, 1980. Lucy 2.0 and Petticoat Junction were far behind him. By this time, he had also appeared regularly on the short-lived sitcom Karen and the second half of the first season of Soap.
Meet Charles Lane, Semi-Anonymous Champion of the Small Role
By GLADWIN HILL
HOLLYWOOD
This is an introduction to an old friend of yours. If you bumped into him on the street, actually experience indicates, you’d probably fumble vainly for his name, but would wind up definitely placing him as a man who was up at the lake two summers ago, or who ran a store back in your home town. Charles Lane has been in so many movies, albeit in semi-anonymity, that he find to his embarrassment that people have a sub-conscious impression of him not as a movie actor but as a member of the community—some fixture in their own lives.
Lane is the-little-man-who-almost-wasn’t-there—the bright-eyed movie reporter who says, “Any comment to make, Mr. Smith?”; the efficient private secretary who says, “Those papers will be ready in just a minute”; the lawyer who pops up in the courtroom scene to say, “I object—”; the hotel clerk who says, “Sorry, no rooms.”
Typical American
Earnest and lean-faced, with a Truman-like universal American physiognomy, and often wearing his own rimless spectacles, he was in “Forty-second Street.” He was in “Gold Dinners of 1933.” He was in “Broadway Melody.” He was in “Nothing Sacred,” “Having a Wonderful Time,” “Ball of Fire,” “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” etc., etc.
Lane, now 42, made his movie debut—fresh from the Pasadena Playhouse—in 1930; his a pace with twenty-three pictures in 1933; and in seventeen years has been in some 200 pictures. He doesn’t claim to have been in more pictures than anybody, because some extra’s always popping up to challenge such records. But in the field of speaking parts, he has been in more movies than any star or featured player, while pursuing a career completely counter to popular impressions of life in Hollywood.
Although a professional actor, now commanding upwards of $750 a week, Lane looks and talks more like a business man and operates that way. He drives to work at 9, goes home to at 5 to his wife and two children in Pasadena and outside the studio takes only a passing interest in the movies. “When I get in the car, turn the switch and start home I forget all about them,” he says. He never sees many of the pictures he plays in, can’t remember the titles of many or even what kind of part he had, and once had the eerie experience of watching himself on the screen in a role he had absolutely no recollection of doing.
Always Reliable
His reliability is one of his principal assets and, with his versatility in characterization, is the reason directors hire him so often. Of Frank Capra’s last six pictures, Lane has been in five. He does no politicking for parts, relying on customary agent representation, and has no special pull. A free lancer, he works at all the studios. Most of his jobs are one-day affairs, although his minimum fee is for a week. His longest job was thirteen weeks in Harold Lloyd’s “Milky Way” when the production was stalled because somebody got sick.
He feels that his work is subject to the same determinants as a star’s” Did he play a part well? and was the picture good? His best part, the income-tax collector in “You Can’t Take It With You,” he says, helped him get roles for two years afterward.
In a busy year, he may work thirty weeks. In 1939 he played in twenty-six pictures, and in 1941 in thirty-one pictures. Then he went in the Navy, and served four years in the Southern Pacific as a lieutenant on an attack transport whose staff diverted themselves by running and re-running a corny picture Lane was in. His avocation now is schooling horses—hunters and jumpers, of which he owns two.
Like every actor, he strives for bigger parts, and wouldn’t cavil at being starred, although he’s making a very comfortable living without the headaches of stardom. But he has his own unique headache of being misrecognized by strangers, particularly at convivial public functions. “Football games,” he says, “have become torture. Then there was that drunk in the railway station in Palo Alto. He kept yelling about my having been with him in a hotel corridor with a couple of blondes. . . .”
Charles Lane: Resigned to a Career as a ‘Stinker’Lane had a realistic attitude about typecasting. It doesn’t help an actor that wants to try different roles, but it shows that people like and accept his performance as a certain type of character and want to see more. If an audience wants to see you, an actor should have it made.
By JORDAN YOUNG
One look at that face and you know he’s come to foreclose the mortgage, repossess the car, audit your taxes or issue a subpoena. At 74, actor Charles Lane is the epitome of the tight-lipped, stubborn, stingy old s.o.b.
“I think that started with ‘I Love Lucy,’” says Lane. “I always played some sort of jerk on that show. They were all good parts, but they were all jerks. If you have a type established, though, and you’re any good, it can mean considerable work for you.” Indeed, Lane’s characterizations of crusty old skinflints are more than a stereotype; they have become a career.
Celebrating his 50th year in films, Lane observes, “There aren’t many parts for old goats like me, but I try to stay as active as I can.” He has played a race track tout on TV’s “Lou Grant” and an immigration officer on an episode of “Mork & Mindy.” He also appears as a kindly grandfather in the upcoming Tony Bill production “The Little Dragons.” Of the latter role, Lane says, “He’s a nice old codger, which is a marvelous departure for me. I always play these stinkers.”
Although a versatile, stage-trained performer, Lane has come to accept the “stinker” image over the years. “Typecasting is one of the most destructive things for an actor we’re ever had and it’ll continue always. But you have to resign yourself to it,” he contends. “You can’t fight that and be miserable all the time. I have a very healthy attitude toward casting—I’ve always felt it’s none of my business.”
Born in San Francisco, Lane decided to become an actor after “fiddling around in the insurance business, and probably doing it more harm than good.” He came to Los Angeles in 1928 to join the company at the Pasadena Playhouse, where he honed his craft and also met his wife. Movie producers regularly attended the Playhouse, scouting for talent, and before long Lane was working in pictures. He made his debut in “Smart Money,” starring Edward G. Robinson.
Hollywood was prolific in those days and so was Lane. “When I started at Warner Brothers,” he recalls, “my salary was $35 a day. I’d go over to Stage 26 at 11 o’clock and play an elevator operator with four lines, and do another one at 3 o’clock, then I’d go over to Stage 13 and do a taxi driver with four lines. I’d do three pictures in one day, all for the same $35. That was before we had the Screen Actors Guild.”
Lane, who claims he can “count on the fingers of one hand the unpleasant experiences I’ve had in my profession,” says he has probably derived the greatest satisfaction from his association with Frank Capra, who directed him in “You Can’t Take It With You,” “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” “It’s a Wonderful Life” and other classics.
“I’m prejudiced, I’ll say that from the start. But I think Frank is the most talented man we ever had. He knew the camera department better than the head cameraman; he had an intuitive feeling with scripts. And on top of that, he had this marvelous ability to relate.”
As a rule, Lane prefers not to watch himself on the screen. “It’s a very unpleasant sensation for me,” he says. “I try to avoid it.” Away from the studios, Lane’s chief recreation is golf. He is also very fond of music, particularly opera, a passion he inherited from his father.
While he enjoys reminiscing, the veteran actor is quick to point out. “I’m not one of these old goats who dwells on the past and says, ‘The great old days . . . ,” because the great old days, a lot of them, stunk. But those big stars, and I don’t use that word loosely—in the heyday of picture, we had maybe a dozen of them—they were bigger than life, those people. When Gable walked into the MGM commissary, silence descended over the room. It takes some kind of presence to project that. Clark was totally unaware of it, but he had that quality, quit a few of the stars did. And I don’t see that anymore.”
Big Heel-Watha (Excellent)
MGM — Cartoon - 8 mins.
The rationing problem hits an Indian community without reservations, and Big Chief Rain-in-the-Face offers his daughter in marriage to the first brave who brings in some meat. Big Heel-Watha after much tribulation makes a deal with a red squirrel and wins the hand of the veiled Minnie Hot-Cha. Lifting the veil, he is confounded by a horrifying face whereupon he, the chief and the braves, dive into the cauldron joining the cooking squirrel. Minnie attempts to join them, and all but the squirrel and the heel scram. The squirrel pulls a false face from Minnie, revealing a beautiful face, all of which makes the brave Heel-Watha happy. This cartoon in Technicolor is almost up to Red Hot Riding Hood, so all that needs be said is: get it dated.
