Swallow the Presents

As “Jingle Bells” jumps along in the background, Santa drops presents from his airborne sleigh in the 1932 Terrytoon Toyland.

My favourite part is how a chimney grows hands and a face, “swallowing” the present and then waving thanks to St. Nick.



The gift doesn’t look like it tastes very good, does it?

The cartoon’s pretty ordinary to me but Film Daily, in its edition of December 10, 1932, called it “a pip”:

A swell cartoon for the Holiday season. A Paul Terry-Toon that is one of the best of this popular line. There is a funny li'l pup as the hero that they ought to be able to build up to the popularity of Mickey Mouse. He's that cute. The Pup has a visit from Santa Claus, and the little kittens, his guests, grab the presents and have a wonderful time. One clever sequence shows all the characters of the Nursery Rhymes coming down the chimney and doing their stuff. The kids should go nuts over this one. A natural for the Holidays that you're a sucker to overlook.

Sorry, Film Daily, but the pup didn’t quite reach Mickey’s heights.

Santa Comes Down Your Radio

A snowstorm of Christmas shows repeated every year greets TV viewers at this time of year. The practice didn’t start with television; it goes back to the days of network radio.

So it was that Amos told Arbadella about the meaning of Christmas December after December. And other shows did the same kind of thing. Jack Benny didn’t repeat his Christmas shows. Instead, he took the “buying presents” plot and reworked it, although some of the same lines found themselves into the script for several years.

Here’s Herald Tribune syndicate columnist John Crosby from January 5, 1948 looking back at Christmas repeats. The Allen and Morgan Christmas shows of which he speaks should be available on-line. Morgan gave his listeners a tale of greedy kids and a cautionary message of being careful about what one wished for. Allen focused on how people didn’t treat each other according to the Golden Rule; they were paranoid and selfish instead.

RADIO IN REVIEW
Footnote on Christmas
By JOHN CROSBY
Every year at Christmas time I find it interesting to watch the nation's radio comedians approach with a sort of seasonal diffidence the problem of Santa Claus. Here they are confronted with a legend that can't be dismissed with a wisecrack like high prices or Vishinsky. Santa is a serious subject and must be dealt with reverently by a bunch of people who spend the rest of the year being irreverent about everything else.
I think the comedians grapple with the problem rather successfully or else I have been so overwhelmed with the benign spirit of Christmas that I think these Christmas skits are better than they are. Once the comedian has struggled with and mastered the inflexibilities of Santa Claus, he never changes so much as a syllable. Like children we are told the same stories every year. In fact these traditional Christmas programs are the only really sensible programs to review because if you miss them this year, you can catch them next year or the year after that. (Just carry this around in your pocket all year long.)
All of these Santa Clauses, it ought to be noted, differ greatly in personality and even in character. As in the many biographies of Lincoln, the portrayals reveal a good deal more about the authors (or the actors) than they do about the subject. Every year, for example, Fred Allen plays a Santa Claus who goes on strike because he has been treated so badly in the past. This Santa is a rugged, outspoken, acid, and, on the whole, bitter old gentleman who appears to have examined the Christmas tradition critically and found that the people of the world weren't really worth all the fuss. This is easily the most daring and natural of the radio's Santa Clauses and perhaps the children better not be exposed to him until they are about fourteen. The kids, I think, will find the Allen Santa rather charming though unexpected but they may look at the rest of us with some dismay after hearing the Allen grievances.
Henry Morgan has now twice told the same story at Christmas time which, he explained, automatically made the program a tradition. In his story, a couple of kids lobbied through Congress a bill making Christmas a daily rather than a yearly event. The Morgan Santa Claus is a defeated, wistful, rather seedy old gentleman of whom everyone is heartily tired. He reminds me of some of the aging and no longer sought-after actors who hang around The Lambs and tell you about the time they played with Jack Barrymore. Perhaps you'd better keep the children from this one entirely.

The funniest and easily the most charming of the annual Santa Claus stories is told every year by Ozzie and Harriet, or more particularly by Ozzie. (Harriet doesn't really believe in Santa Claus and has only a fond but rather dim faith in her husband.) Ozzie's Santa Claus clings to the established order. He's a hearty, merry old soul of illimitable generosity who, while he lacks the grandeur of the Allen Santa and the clarity of the Morgan Santa, is altogether satisfactory for children of all ages. The only disturbing characteristic of this Santa Claus is the fact that he blew into the Nelson household a couple of days before Christmas to check up on things. If Santa Claus is going to go tramping around the country all year round, it'll be a terrible job getting the kids to bed at any time of the year.
In addition to the regulars, a new entrant has come into the lists — the department store Santa Claus in "Miracle on 34th Street" — which was presented on Lux Theatre. Some instinct tells me he will be back again next year and all the other years like "White Christmas". Frankly, I'd rather reserve judgment on this one till next year or possibly the year after. A man can't be expected to offer a really rounded appraisal on just one performance.

Drop It! Drop It!

“Kiss the little birdie,” says Granny to Sylvester, holding a piece of mistletoe above Tweety. I like Sylvester’s expressions.



And there’s the familiar “Drop it!” from Granny as she tries to spank Tweety from Sylvester’s stomach.



Art Davis, Gerry Chiniquy, Virgil Ross and Manny Perez are the animators for Friz Freleng in what may be Warner Bros.’ best Christmas cartoon, Gift Wrapped. It’s certainly my favourite of the bunch.

Bea Benaderet is Granny here and Daws Butler was brought in to do some opening narration to set up the plot before disappearing.

Opening Night

Santa Claus and his reindeer open the Van Beuren cartoon Opening Night, the debut short for Cubby Bear.



The jolly old elf pours the Christmas gift of stars from his bag. They form a lit marquee for New York’s Roxy RKO Theatre.



Santa and the Christmas season now disappear entirely from the cartoon.

So why were they there in the first place? Simple. The cartoon was designed to run on the opening night of the real RKO Roxy, which took place on December 29, 1932. A little late for Santa, true, but this is a Van Beuren cartoon, after all.

The print that ran at the Roxy was hand-coloured by Gustav Brock.

He's Walking

It’s a bit of an overstatement to say everything Jack Benny touched turned to ratings, but there was a time when he sure helped. And we’re not talking about his own show.

Jack made guest appearances on a number of radio shows—Fred Allen’s may be the most memorable—but his presence on one particular programme helped a widow and the American Heart Fund. That’s when Jack was the Walking Man on Truth or Consequences (to the right you see host Ralph Edwards and Benny).

Benny was revealed as the Walking Man after a correct answer on the March 6, 1948 edition of Edwards’ stunt show. You can read a very excellent time frame on Martin Grams’ blog. Two days before a widow from Chicago named Florence Hubbard blurted out Benny’s name to Edwards, speculation ran through a newspaper column in the United Press.

HEY, JACK BENNY! DON'T SAY YOU'RE THE WALKING MAN
By ALINE MOSBY
United Press Hollywood Correspondent
HOLLYWOOD, March 4. — The suspicion that he might be "the Walking Man" dawned upon Jack Benny today. It isn't anything definite... but, uh, he's been thinking about it and, well, there have been a few things.
Benny has something in common with 2,000,000 Americans. They've been thinking "the Walking Man" over, too, since he began to clop his feet and make noises on Ralph Edwards' "Truth or Consequences?' NBC radio show. [Mr. Edwards' show is heard at 8:30 P.M. Saturdays and Benny is heard on the same station at 7 P. M. Sunday.]
Guess who the feet belong to, and you collect $22,000 worth of loot. This includes the usual car trailer, houseful of furniture, trip to Sun Valley, diamond watch, coat, etc.
Every Saturday night Edwards phones three people who've written the best letters on why they sent in money for the American Heart Association.
Heifitz, Fidler or Devine
To date the show has collected than 2,000,000 letters and than a million bucks—an all-time radio record.
For seven weeks unhappy guessers have made wild stabs at names like Louis B. Mayer and President Truman. Folks were in the lying-awake-nights stage—until last Saturday's noise clue. A squeaky violin.
We called up a guy who owns such a violin. Who, we inquired, did he figure 'the Walking Man' might be?
Bing Bong Bell
"It might be me," he reflected.
"No!" we said.
"Yeah," said Benny. "You know, people have been stopping me on the street and writing letters asking me if I'm the Walking Man. The boys on my show have mentioned it, too.
"Oh, and Mary said something about it. I suppose we should have put the clues together, but we never listen to the program. We're usually out on Saturday nights. We haven't paid much attention to it, frankly."

If Benny had, he might've figured out the riddle Edwards repeats like this:
"Bing bong bell church bells (Benny's program is on Sunday).
"It's ten and only one can tell" (tenth alphabet letter J is for Jack).
"The master of the metropolis fits his name quite well" (Benny is the master of his radio-show valet, Rochester. That's the name of a metropolis in New York).
Are You Or Aren't You
Benny might also discover the horse-and-gunfire sounds on "the Walking Man" show could indicate his motto "Buck Benny Rides Again!" The Walking Man played Auld Lang Syne on the trumpet, too. Jack's last movie, he might recall, was "The Horn Blows at Midnight."
The mysterious gent also whistled "Annie Laurie" which begins, "Maxwellton Braes Are Bonnie." Benny's jalopy is a Maxwell. And the cat's wail could signify what violin strings are made of.
"Come to think of it, I have been doing a lot of walking on my program lately. Mentioned 'The Horn Blows st Midnight,' too," said Benny.
We said: "Well, are you or aren't you the walking man?
"Hmmmmmmm," said Benny.

The Don'ts of Bullwinkle

There are a few things in television which continue to linger from the days of old time radio. One of them is executive skittishness.

It’s impossible to not offend someone. Anything offends somebody. Yet people with large salaries in huge offices with big mahogany desks at the networks cower in fear that someone will get upset about something on the air for the most ridiculous reason, so they try to placate them by imposing the most idiotic restrictions.

Such things lead producers, stars and other creative people to say “Are you kidding?”

Among those people were Jay Ward and Bill Scott. When their Bullwinkle Show went into prime time in 1961, they were told to be irreverent—except when it came to a whole barrage of things. Here they are musing about it in a column from November 3, 1961.

'Bullwinkle' Has Problems
By HANK GRANT
Hollywood — The voice of "Bullwinkle Moose," Bill Scott, looked at his partner, Jay Ward, and teased: "If I really sound like Red Skelton, I should get more money out of this operation!"
The remark had been prompted by just one of the headaches incumbent on Jay Ward Productions since "The Bullwinkle Show" debuted several weeks ago on NBC-TV as a primetime Sunday feature directly preceding "Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color." Just hours before we'd sat down to split a hamburger with the enterprising pair, word had reached them that Red Skelton was quite upset because many people were making bets that the "Bullwinkle" voice was actually Red's, the specific one he uses for his "Clem Kadidlehopper" character.
A foot shorter than his partner, Ward does all the tall talking, while Scott nods agreement, a relationship that reminded us of the police partners in the "Car 54, Where Are You?" series.
All Don'ts
"It's kind of funny when you think that we had no problems when we had a daytime show ("Rocky and His Friends"). Nobody bothered us about anything. For instance, the Bullwinkle voice was the same on the Rocky series — no complaints. We go big time with Bullwinkle and the first thing that happens is an eight-page list of Don'ts! from the sponsors—not a single Do. If we adhered to that nutty list, we wouldn't be able to say much more than Hello on our show.

"Everybody's a censor anticipating what might offend the public. To give you an idea of how wrong sponsors can be, they wanted us to eliminate our 'Dudley Doright' character (a Royal Canadian 'do wrong' mountie) because it might offend Canadians. Well, the show was offered to the government-controlled Canadian Broadcasting Company and they turned it down because we had Russian spies in Bullwinkle and they didn't want anything that might offend Moscow. Not a murmur of protest about 'Dudley.' You figure that one; we can't!
PTA Recommendation
"Then the network, even before we went on the air for the first time, suggested we eliminate our Fractured Fairy Tales segments because it would confuse children who took as gospel the original stories. It's satire, we screamed, and kids are more hep to satire than adults. So they let up keep it on and what happens? The Parent Teachers Association national magazine falls over backwards to heartily recommend our show for kiddies!
"Now we've got another headache. We can't satirize American idols like the Wright Brothers, Daniel Boone and Paul Revere. Especially, and man did they lay the law down to us on this, we can't caricature American presidents, living or dead. Satire, we scream, especially in a cartoon, isn't necessarily ridicule. Satire must have recognizable identity to be appreciated. But they shouted us down. It's okay, though, if we satirize foreign heroes like Napoleon, Pasteur or Lafayette! I sometimes wonder if it's just a few people without a sense of humor, but in positions of authority, who are making it seem as if our country at large has lost its sense of humor.
"Now, we lead into the Disney show, right? So we plug Disney by kidding him. People—maybe it's just one anonymous postcard—put the rap on us for this and a couple of frightened ad agency or network executives start making 'nyet' noises. But, you know, Disney has yet to say Boo? I'll bet he's even pleased! Maybe we should forget about the 10 million dollars we expect to make on this show and find an easier way to make a living."
"Me," said Scott, breaking his long silence with his "Bullwinkle" voice, "I can always go to work for Red Skelton!"

More Tom and Jerry Violence

Tom’s caught something. No, Jerry’s caught something. No, Tom’s caught something. A fist to the eye. Bill Hanna screams as Tom.



This is from the cartoon Safety Second. It’s a July 4th cartoon that was appropriately released July 1, 1950. It was inappropriately re-released May 3, 1957.

Al Grandmain gets a credit on this short, perhaps for the fireworks effects. Ray Patterson, Ed Barge, Ken Muse and Irv Spence also animated. Is this a Spence scene?

Creatures of the Haunted Ship

Some wonderful undersea creatures are the highlights of the 1930 Van Beuren cartoon The Haunted Ship starring Don and Waffles. Don panics when they appear. Waffles doesn’t care.

Characters in 1930 cartoons, even at Disney, came toward the camera, which must have been a pretty cool effect in theatres. They do in this cartoon. I really like the designs. First, we get an octopus.



Look out! In the barrel! It’s a...a something.



Some kind of fish swims in from the distance.



The cartoon features more fun-designed sea creatures, as well as musical skeletons and drunken turtles whose heads zoom toward the camera for a nice finish. The music and actions are well-synchronised by Gene Rodemich.

Uncle Moe Plays Santa

Who would you pick to play Santa Claus? If it’s for a TV sitcom, you’d pick a scrawny, New York Jew. And if it’s a 1970s sitcom, then you’d pick long-time character actor Ned Glass.

Glass had regular or recurring roles on several shows in the first few decades of network television and almost countless guest appearances. He was one of those guy who was almost everywhere.

It’s always a treat to see columnists recognise these unsung actors. We’ll get to the Santa story in a moment. But first we have a column from the North American Newspaper Alliance, dated October 15, 1961, about one of Glass’ big film roles. He appeared in West Side Story. The arithmetic in the column is a little off; Glass was on the New York stage in the play “Counsellor-at-Law,” starring Paul Muni, in October 1931.

‘Overnight’ Fame Takes 27 Years
By HAROLD HEFFERMAN
Hollywood (NANA) — "OVERNIGHT SUCCESS," a Hollywood adage has it, is something that happens only to sexy starlets and old character actors—except in the case of the veterans it usually takes longer.
For Ned Glass, a thin, balding actor, with a nasal voice (closing your eyes you might suspect it's Walter Brennan) and an expression of pained sympathy for the entire world, the Big Night occurred here a couple of weeks ago.
After 27 years In show business, he walked into the Carthay Circle Theater—still an unknown to the crowds eagerly moving to their seats for the press preview of the filmed musical drama, "West Side Story."
Two and a half hours later, the lights went on and Ned Glass found himself surrounded by backslapping pals. He recognized a few of them.
"It was like walking into a surprise birthday party," Glass describes it. "Everywhere, there were people smiling at me, grabbing at my hand, congratulating me. My eyes got so misty I walked into two ushers and, gosh darn it, even they seemed glad to see me."
Glass, who describes himself as "the Jewish Walter Brennan," has spent nearly three decades in search of the recognition "West Side Story" now seems certain to bring to him. During that time he hasn't been exactly hiding from the public—Broadway audiences will remember him in many plays.
In "West Side Story," however, he has the kind of role that showcases an actor's talent: he plays "Doc," the owner of the candy store used as headquarters by the youthful gang calling themselves "The Jets."

"It was a tremendously challenging role," Glass reports, "and not only from the acting standpoint. There was quite a bit of social responsibility involved in it for me, too."
As most people have already heard, "West Side Story," a stage sensation on Broadway and in European capitals, is the story of "Romeo and Juliet" set to Leonard Bernstein's music and played on the today's streets of New York.
The movie version, guided with expert care by producer-director Robert Wise and director-choreographer Jerome Robbins, is on wide-screen Panavision 70 color and stereophonic sound and un the opinion of envious Hollywood experts in special effects, only rarely have these cinematic features been so well put to use. "But most people don't realize something," Glass points out. "Because this story is told from the viewpoint of the kids in the streets, there are hardly any adults in the movie.
"Aside from the two cops on the beat—who aren't able to understand the youngsters—'Doc,' the candy-store owner is just about the only other grownup in the story. And he's the only one who even begins to dig the motivating forces behind the gang kids and can communicate with them a little.
"That’s why I say it was a responsibility to play the part I felt like I was representing my generation in one of the most important situations facing our society today."
How did Ned Glass win the role of "Doc"?
"I know it's fashionable to have a complicated story of discovery, all about how I got stuck in the revolving door of the commissary with the producer and suddenly he realized I was the guy for the part but actually it was through a casting agent who knew me: he set up an interview and I got the job." The most memorable moment for him in the picture?
"It came near the end," Glass answered without hesitation. "The boys have done something particularly rough. I kind of shake my head and say, 'You kids you make this world lousy.' One of the boys looks back at me. 'We didn't make it, Doc,' he says."

Now the Santa story, and a tale of Glass’ tribulations as an actor. It’s hard to believe there was a period when he wasn’t working, but the notorious blacklist seemed to tar people who weren’t even on it. This syndicated story appeared in newspapers around December 8, 1972.

Past headaches are recalled by 'Uncle Moe'
By PENNY P. ANDERSON
"I'm saving the biggest log in the cord for Christmas," smiles Ned Glass, settling back into his overstuffed chair and warming to the flames that rose in his fireplace.
"That's a laugh, isn't it?" he chuckles. "A good Jew like me all excited about a Christmas fire."
His aged countenance reads like a book of ancient philosophy. The phrases are all there — the creases and crevices of pathos and joy — but they are mellowed by the cocoon of gentleness and contentment by which Glass surrounds himself.
Ned Glass, veteran of stage and screen for more than 40 years, now a regular member of CBS's "Bridget Loves Bernie" series, thinks it is only fitting that, as Uncle Moe, he play Santa in the Christmas Episode.
"The script said, 'The scrawniest, funniest-looking Santa possible, with a baggy suit and a scraggly beard . . .' Who would you guess they'd pick?" he invites. "I'm a natural."
His plastic face smiles from the tip of his sparsely inhabited head down to his slender chin.
"This is my idea of what a home should be," he says quietly, perusing the living room of his rustic valley home with pride. "For a kid from the slums of New York, home SHOULD be a house full of love and a warm fire in the evenings."
Every wall of the cottage is covered with some art work — some of it modern, some classic and some simple posters. Antique artifacts reconstructed into lamps are set here and there and Pennsylvania Dutch-style furniture, painted with gaily colored figures, adorns the entire room.
Glass built the majority of his unpretentious homestead in Studio City, Calif., by hand. When Ned Glass and his late wife, Kitty McKew, put each nail and plank into place, Studio City did not exist.
Building on to the cottage and creating the cabinetry within were a way of life for Glass in years to follow. It was a pastime and a way of making some extra dollars during a time when he could not find work; when the Red Scare of the 50's belted away at Hollywood and chased some of the finest actors of the era into other professions.
"I was never named before the House Un-American Activities Committee," he explains with neither anger nor of bitterness. There is even a touch of humor in his tone. His voice is thick with the reminder of the Eastside New York heritage.
"But here in Hollywood I was considered 'controversial'." He supposes the reputation began during his days with "The Living Newspaper," a brain-child of the Federal Theater during the Franklin D. Roosevelt administration, and an innovative band of artists who presented experimental theater long before it was considered chic.
The Red scare that crept into Hollywood on a grand scale could not have come at a worse time for Glass's career.
He already had made an indentation in the history of the movie industry in the movie "The Bad and the Beautiful," with what was to become the screen's first improvisational scene. The piece of film is considered a classic and is still used as a teaching aid in acting classes throughout the country.
At the time, it also inspired MGM to write a role specifically tailored to Glass in "Band Wagon."
A few days before production was to begin, however, Glass was called into the executives' offices and confronted with a dosier listing, among other things, the reading material to which he subscribed.
He was reproached for his tastes "but assured that the dosier meant nothing and would have no effect on my job."
But, he sighs gently, "the movie started the next day without me."
The years of unemployment that followed were difficult on Glass who, as a young man, had given up teaching in order to act.
During the sparse years when he was ostracized from his theatrical professional, Glass worked as a cabinet maker and handyman, and finally, in 1954, he was hired as a regular co-star on the New York-based TV series.
Two years later Glass left "The Bilko Show" and returned to the Hollywood he'd left as an escape from the sorrow of his wife's early and unexpected death two years before.
His second wife, Jean, sits quietly in a corner during the conversation, listening. A handsome brunette wearing a caftan of a homespun-style fabric, she had served up cups of steaming tea, banana-nut bread, fruits and cheeses earlier in the evening.
Glass's career has never again been besmirched since he was signed for "The Bilko Show." He's appeared on nearly every major TV series, was a regular on "Julia" and appeared in scores of movies. "Lady Sings the Blues" is his latest.
"In retrospect," he offers, "I'm glad it happened. I learned it wasn't the end of the world. I found I could make a living with my hands and it gave me much inner security and pleasure. There's always another road."

Unlike an awful lot of sitcom character actors, Glass was nominated for an Emmy (in 1969) but—and you’d never see this today—nobody won in his category because the judges didn’t think any of them deserved the award (Hal Holbrook didn’t win, either).

Glass died of heart failure in 1984 at the age of 78.

At's-a Scrappy

Columbia’s mid-1930s Color Rhapsodies boast some good layouts and animation—even perspective animation—but they’re still second-rate imitations of Walt Disney’s Silly Symphonies.

An example is In My Gondola, released on September 3, 1936, with story by Sid Marcus and animated by Art Davis (and others). Paul Etcheverry’s synopsis¹:

Scrappy, Margie and Yippy glide along the Venetian canals, and enjoy the romantic music of local troubadours. On flute and mandolin, Scrappy too, tries a little serenading, but is upstaged by the pranks of a violinist lobster. Yippy complicates matters by falling overboard and being chased by a swordfish at the bottom of the canal. After he returns, the threesome humourously eat huge amounts of spaghetti at a nearby restaurant, concluding a happy day. This light, uncharacteristically innocuous Scrappy entry presents smooth animation and attractive and overall visual styling.

Yippy brings to mind Pluto as he curiously deals with a smaller creature, then emulates Donald Duck by bouncing up and down with his arm straight out, closed-fisted, ready for a fight.

This all happens after the lobster gets in Scrappy’s pants. He plays a concertina, and then a violin, smashing around the little dog.



Yippy covers his eyes as the lobster is about to punch him with a right. No! He fakes and gets with a left.



After Margie bashes around Scrappy with a mandolin and flute, the lobster jumps overboard, with Yippy leaping in after him.

More reviews:

Plenty of imagination went into this Scrappy cartoon. The result is good entertainment with much spectacular excitement. Set on the Venetian canals the story has Scrappy boating with a girl. Scrappy’s dog gets involved with a musical lobster and while chasing him along the canal bottom annoys a swordfish. Here a cleverly drawn chase is worked in with the pup being rescued just as he is about to be run through. A comic, spaghetti eating sequence concludes. Production Code Seal No. 2,482. Running time, 8 mins. “G.” ²

A color cartoon featuring Scrappy, this is very good entertainment. Scrappy and his girl friend glide the Venetian waters in a gondola to the romantically tuneful “Neapolitan Nights.” Scrappy’s dog engages the undersea inhabitants in combat, particularly a swordfish. Then there is dancing at a casino with interludes of a spaghetti dinner. Running time, 8 minutes.³

Scrappy carried on until 1941. You needn’t hunt through your home trying to figure out where you put your copies of Animania to read more. Go to Harry McCracken’s site right here.

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1 Animania, Issue No 20, Feb. 28, 1981, pg. 27.^↩
2 Motion Picture Daily, Oct. 5, 1936, pg. 13^↩
3 Motion Picture News, Oct. 17, 1936, pg. 51^↩