Heap Big Stereotype

Time for an eye-rolling gag from Tex Avery. Even he knew it was an eye roller.

The chief walks into an Indian brave. The brave explains he’s a half breed. Then he turns to face the camera.



Avery gives his opinion of this stereotype gag through the character.



This is from Jerky Turkey (1945), animated by Ray Abrams, Preston Blair and Ed Love.

He's Toinin Plaid

Hubie’s way ahead of Bert in playing mind games on Claude Cat in The Hypo-Chrondri-Cat. Hubie has to slam Bert around to get him to catch on after pointing at the cat and saying “He’s toinin’ green.”

I like the disgusted look on Hubie’s face when Bert gets wise and declares that Claude is turning green.



Director Chuck Jones has the colours appear in Claude’s eyes before he changes colour. First, green, then purple, then plaid. (Carl Stalling has “The Campbells Are Coming” accompany the last gag).



The story’s by Mike Maltese with animation by the Jones usuals of 1949—Ben Washam, Lloyd Vaughan, Ken Harris and Phil Monroe.

Benny, Cantor, Crosby and Lotions-of-Love Winchell

Jack Benny wins. Walter Winchell wins. Paramount wins. And, ultimately, newspaper readers win, too.

Gossip columnists, like the rest of us, have to take time off work. One of the favourite ways to fill space during the respite was to have stars as fill-in columnists. I suspect in most cases, the stars had their writers pounding out inches at the typewriter.

Walter Winchell’s column of July 22, 1938 has Jack Benny’s byline. I imagine part of the deal was Benny got to plug his coming Paramount picture in return for gossip and gag copy. Jack (or Bill Morrow or Ed Beloin) tosses in references to Eddie Cantor, Fred Allen, Bing Crosby (including his horses) and his four-year-old daughter speaking like the Kingfish, which strikes me as highly improbable.

Jack Benny Buys a Clock, Gets a Grandfather, Free walk home.
(Today's guest columnist for Walter Winchell is Jack Benny, radio-screen comedian).
By JACK BENNY
Dear Walter:
I received your letter (with three cents postage due) asking me to write a column for you while you are on your vacation. That’s fine. You’re on your vacation and I’m slaving and sweating in front of a hot camera, so why should I bother substituting for you? Why should I put myself out? Why should I take these few precious moments of freedom between scenes and use them in grinding out words to fill your space? You want to know why? Because I’m a ham. I like to see my name in print, even if it’s on a police blotter. So without further ado, I bring you your Hollywood correspondent—Jack Benny!
Well, to begin with, Walter, you asked me to give you some of the latest dope about Hollywood and the movie colony, as I rub elbows with all the important people here. Now I ask you, how much information can you get from an elbow?
The hottest thing in town right now is the Hollywood Park racetrack. It’s a beautiful place. You can get there by taxicab in 15 minutes, and it only takes you three hours to walk home.
It is a very modern track and the last word in progress. Everything there is streamlined, except the nags I bet on. I put $2 on one the other day, and as he was coming into the stretch he lost his wooden leg.
And everything is so formal there. The jockeys work in top hat, white tie, and the horses work in tails. They'll do anything out here, Walter. They even tried to get the Supreme Court for judges.
Bing Crosby has been very fortunate lately, as all of his horses have been winning. He happens to have the next dressing room to mine at Paramount, so I hid a dictaphone in his room to try and get some information. I played the record back today. All I found out was, his tailor's name is Smith, his youngest child is teething, and I’m a heel.
Can you Imagine that, Walter? And after all the things I’ve done for Crosby . . . What’s that? What have I done for Crosby? Well, for one thing, Walter, I have never played "Sweet Leilani" on my violin. Some gratitude.
Now let’s see, what else is going on in Hollywood? . . . Oh, yes. N. B. C. is building a new studio on Vine St. C. B. S. has already opened theirs, and the E. C. A. S. (Eddie Cantor's Antique Shop) is doing very well. I went in there the other day to pick up an antique chair and got paint all over my hands. Eddie had the nerve to tell me that it's been drying since the 15th century. I hope my hand has better luck.
Incidentally, Cantor just sailed for Europe, and the day before he left Hollywood he sold me a grandfather's clock, which financed his trip. I didn't mind that so much, but when I got home and opened the clock, his grandfather was in it.
By the way, Walter, you might be interested to know that Mary and I will be moving into our new home soon. It is really beautiful and located directly across the street from the lot you bought on Roxbury Drive. If you contemplate building on your property, I hope you will put in an extra bathroom, as the architect forgot ours.
Mary and I had quite a lot to do with the building of our new home. I’m not much of a carpenter myself, but Mary took up brick-laying at Vassar. Believe me, it came in very handy.
We had a hard time deciding on the type of architecture. Mary wanted our home to be French Colonial and I held out for Early Spanish. However, we finally compromised. The house is going to be French Colonial, but early every morning I’m going to have a Spanish omelette for breakfast.

And, Walter, I wish you could see our swimming pool. It's really lovely. But I do think it’s a little too large, as last night we had a typhoon in it. But even then I didn’t realise how enormous our pool was until I strolled over there this morning and found our backyard filled with beachcombers. Something will have to be done about that.
But the house itself is furnished in excellent taste. We have a gorgeous living-room overlooking a group of bill-collectors, a lovely dining room, and a beautiful den with a lion in it.
Well, so much for my house. Now let's see, what else is there to talk about?
DING-A-LING-LING! Oh, pardon me, Walter, there’s the telephone. (CLICK) HELLO . . . YES . . . OKAY, I’LL BE RIGHT OVER, GOODBY. (CLICK.)
Excuse me, Walter, that was the assistant director calling me on the set.
You know I’m in the middle of "Artists and Models Abroad," the new Paramount picture I’m making with Joan Bennett. Joan is a wonderful girl to work with. She’s so sweet and understanding. No matter how many times I forget my lines, she never says a word. She just groans. Yesterday I played a love scene with her, and I was so thrilled that I forgot to kiss her. I guess she was thrilled, too, as she forgot to remind me.
Our director, Mitch Leisen—who is one of the best in the business—runs a Men’s Shop on the side. So far in the picture I have a large wardrobe but a very small part. One of my checks bounced the other day, and he cut me out or three scenes. And is he commercial! He says he won't let me marry Joan Bennett at the end of the picture unless I buy a camel’s hair coat.
So you can see, Walter, what I’m up against. And that isn't all. The cameraman also sells insurance. And since I have all the insurance I need, you can imagine how I'm going to photograph.
But what worries me most about my career in the cinema is Mister Zukor, the head of the studio. I think he has lumbago, as he hasn't bent over to pick up my option.
But I’ll be through pretty soon, Walter, and go on my vacation. I haven’t decided just where to go, but I would like some place unusual this year . . . some tropical island nestled in the blue Pacific, with palm trees swaying in the breeze. So after looking up the boat fares to Tahiti, I’ve about decided on Catalina Island. I know it's only a short way from Hollywood, but I’m going on the far side of the island where, on a clear day, you can see Honolulu in the newsreel. I know Honolulu is very romantic with its beautiful native girls in their grass skirts, but I like women I can smoke around.
If I have time, I'll also take a trip East for a short visit. And inasmuch as I’m on a very strict diet, I’ll probably stay at the home of my old friend, Fred Allen. He has a cook who even knows how to make hash out of hash. In fact, Allen is so tight that—(KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!) ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, I’M COMING!
I'm sorry, Walter, but I've got to run along now, as they're ready for me on the set.
Oh, by the way, before I go I must tell you about my little daughter, Joanie, aged four. I told her this morning I was going to write a column for Walter Winchell. And what do you think she said? You'll never guess. She said, "Daddy, are you going to get paid for writing this column?" I said. "No, darling." And she said. "Daddy, you-all sho am slippin’!" (You see, Walter, we have a colored nurse.)
Well, that’s about all. Have a good time, Walter. Relax, take it easy, and don’t do anything that will upset you. In other words, don’t read this column.
Best wishes always. JACK BENNY.
P. S. I just saw your picture on the front cover of Time Magazine. Gee, you're pretty!

Animators at War

Bob Givens was never recognised on screen for his work with Bugs Bunny in 1940, but he was in the press a year later.

When the U.S. entered World War Two, animators were among those who found themselves in the service of Uncle Sam. Some of them, however, spent their days working on films. On the West Coast, the First Motion Picture Unit produced training films, with Rudy Ising overseeing the animation division. Perhaps the best known animated short is Position Firing, starring Trigger Joe.

On the East Coast, the Signal Corps set up a film division at Fort Monmouth, New Jersey. Little apparently has been written about what was made there, but there were certainly enough animators sent there.

The first story appeared in both the Red Bank Daily Standard (June 26, 1941) and the Fort Monmouth Signal (July 2, 1941). The second story appeared in the latter edition. You should recognise many of the names in the first one. The second is a brief squib about actor and former New York fur salesman Danny Webb, who can be heard in the cartoons of a number of West Coast studios. The date should give you an idea of the time when he stopped voice work. We wrote a bit about him in this post. In the following story, as well as in the earlier post, he claims to be the voice of Bugs Bunny. I don’t even think he voiced the rabbit in those late ‘30s, still-in-development cartoons, nor do I remember him doing Andy Panda, though he was in at least one Andy Panda cartoon.

My thanks to Mariana Givens for the use of her dad’s photo.

Disney Aides Stationed Here
Other Hollywood Cartoon Artists, Story Directors In The Army Now
Recent additions to the personnel of Fort Monmouth's polyglot Fifth Battalion include Donald Duck, Porky Pig, and Popeye the Sailor. The beloved animated cartoon characters haven't actually joined the Army, but all three are represented at Fort Monmouth by men who helped create them.
The roster of Co. E. of the 5th Signal Training Battalion includes no less than ten artists and story directors from Hollywood animation studios.
Leading with the largest contingent is the Walt Disney Studio, home pond of the irrepressible Donald himself. Disney Men now stationed in the Fifth Battalion include:
Pvt. Berk Anthony, story writer and animator who worked on nearly all of Disney's characters over a six-year period; Pvt. Rodell Johnson, one of the artists responsible for the antics of Jimminy Cricket in "Pinnochio;" Pvt. Victor Michonski, who spent over two years working on "Fantasia," Disney's most lavish production; Pvt. George Paliwoda, whose artistic efforts included everything from portraying Donald's duckiest moments to creating an earthquake for "Bambi;" Pvt. George Peed, who prepared continuity sketches for "Mickey Mouse" and "Donald Duck" shorts, "Snow White," "The Wind in the Willows," and "Pinnochio." Pvt. Robert Perry, a "Goofy the Dog" artist, also worked on the hilarious mushroom sequence in "Fantasia."
Disney's competition from Leon Schlesinger Productions, creators of "Merry Melodies" and "Porky the Pig," is as intense at Monmouth as in Hollywood.
Pvt. Robert Givens, a story sketch man who helped originate tribulations for "Sniffles the Mouse" and "Bugs Bunny," is now drawing his pay through the Fifth Battalion Headquarters.
Pvt. David Monahan is also from the Schlessinger outfit. He helped Ted Cook prepare his "Ted Cook's Cook Coos" before joining the studio. The Max Fleischer Studios, "Popeye's" masters, are represented by Pvt. Alden Getz, who worked on "Gulliver's Travels" and Betty Boop" shorts in addition to "Popeye" himself.
Approximately a dozen additional animators and story directors have transferred from the Fifth Battalion to the Twentieth Signal Service Company and are at present helping produce training motion pictures at the Training Film Production Laboratory.

Dave Weberman, Man Of A Thousand Voices, Arrives

It wasn't so long ago that the arrival at Fort Monmouth of Pvt. Dave Weberman, Co. E, 5th Slg. Trg. B'n, occurred. Before entering the Army he was teaching Leo Carillo, Jeannette MacDonald, Nelson Eddy and a dozen other Hollywood stars the tricks of voice and acting that had made him one of the country's foremost voice impressionists. That was just after the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios lured Dave away from the East and took him to Hollywood.
Between courses in the Co. E Schools, he entertains his fellow students with the impersonations that earned him his reputation as The Man of a Thousand Voices." Under his stage name of Danny Webb, Dave has impersonated vocally at various times President Roosevelt, Hitler and Mussolini on "The March of Time"; Ken Murray's Mad Russian"; the little rab[b]it in "Looney Tunes"; and, his favorite role, "Andy Panda" in the famous animated cartoon. His last assignment before entering the service was with Johnny Downs and Mischa Auer in Columbia's "Sing Another Chorus," soon to be released.

The Questioning Horse

There’s some hot Gene Rodemich music (with speak-song lyrics by that raspy voiced Van Beuren guy) in Horse Cops. I wish I knew the music better as I can’t identify the tune.

The cartoon is set around a speak-easy where cats dance, bugs and mice play musical instruments and drinks are untouched on tables because that saves animation. Oscar the police horse pulls one of those old silent cartoon bits I still like. His neck stretches into the club and a question mark forms from his ears.



The Motion Picture Herald of December 5, 1931 opined “An Aesop's fable parodying the raiding of dance halls in the days of the old West.” Old West? With jazz music? And billboards?



John McManus has a credit on this short as well as John Foster. The song “Horses” is all over the sound track. It’s another song you know from old cartoons.



Late note: Rollo Nichols tells me the song is The Man From The South by Rube Bloom and Harry Woods.

Tailing the Penguin

“He’s got m’tail again,” says the guard dog to the viewing audience in the Chilly Willy cartoon I'm Cold.



Here are some of the drawings as the dog tries to extricate itself from the hole in the floor. These are consecutive frames, shot only once.



Tex Avery borrows from himself here. The laconic dog with the accent is taken from his southern wolf character at MGM (both were done by Daws Butler). The gags have a nice flow. Avery handled Chilly Willy very well in the two cartoons he made with the character.

The orchestrations in Clarence Wheeler’s score in this cartoon are really good, especially the selection of solo instruments and the flute when the penguin scurries about. The animation is by Ray Abrams, Don Patterson and La Verne Harding.

Henry Morgan, the Lobster

On came several announcers, proclaiming that they were a Schick Eversharp pen. When the commercial ended, on came Henry Morgan, childishly mimicking that he was a Schick Eversharp pen. Morgan’s audience broke into sustained laughter over the ad-lib.

Morgan hated ridiculous radio advertising which sponsors insisted on, and was prepared to go to any length to show how ridiculous it was. Morgan had a whole fan base that agreed.

One of Morgan’s fans was columnist John Crosby. They were kindred spirits. Crosby had little good to say about the banal, inane and predictable nature of a lot of radio programming. This column comes from June 12, 1946.

Man on a Street Corner
Henry Morgan is one of the strangest phenomena in radio. In a quiet way, he has built up a small band of devoted followers who consider him the greatest man in broadcasting. I know a number of people who keep their radios tuned exclusively to WQXR until 6:45 p. m. Then they switch to Morgan for fifteen minutes and immediately thereafter return to WQXR.
That’s what the Federal Communications Commission would call unbalanced programming, but I can’t persuade these people to do otherwise. And, incidentally, I have several acquaintances who read this column every day but, so far as I know, they never listen to the radio. I think it was Katharine Brush who once remarked that New Yorkers read the book reviews but never read the books. Reading a radio review when you never listen is I suppose just a modern twist to that strange habit.
*    *    *
But let’s get back to Morgan. I hesitate to recommend him because Morgan is a special taste like lobsters. You either love lobsters or you can’t stand them. There is no middle ground on Morgan, either. Many, many persons can’t understand Morgan at all and are at a loss to explain why any one wants to listen to him. In case you never heard him, Morgan just pops on the air and starts talking about anything that’s bothering him at the moment.
“I’ve been worrying about words,” he will say. “People are always getting to a pretty pass. Doesn’t any one ever get to an ugly pass? That’s a fine how-do-you-do. What’s the matter with a fair how-do-you-do? Restaurants always feature prime ribs of beef. What do they do with all the secondary ribs—ship ‘em?”
Whenever he runs down for a moment, Morgan yells to the engineer, who turns on a record, and Morgan has the dizziest collection of records anywhere. You’re likely to hear “The Moonlight Sonata” played on bagpipes.
*    *    *
A moment later Morgan is back to tell you the story of Gilda Thermidor. “Gilda is happy today because her husband, Lieutenant Phosphorus, is coming home with a wonderful brand of volcanic soap which sponsored their marriage. But Lieutenant Phosphorus has picked up a severe case of red rash. What will happen now? Tune in again next week.”
I first heard Morgan years ago when he had a sustaining program at 10 a. m. At that time he used to give a daily weather report, which was sheer wishful thinking. “Weather report—tidal wave,” he would declare hopefully. Morgan had no sponsors then, but he has picked up a great many since then. Too many, in fact. Morgan kids his sponsors, but a commercial is still a commercial, and they chew up too much of his time.
In one respect Morgan is unique in radio. Now and then he simply runs out of things to say. For a minute or two the air is full of lovely silence, and all the vice-presidents of the American Broadcasting Company turn purple at the thought of that precious, wasted time.
“Why don’t you people tune in on C. B. S.?” Morgan will mutter savagely. Remarks like that are not calculated to endear Morgan to the executives of A. B. C. either.
At other times, Morgan is likely to say: “Would you mind just sitting there for ten or fifteen seconds? I’d like to light a cigarette.” And for ten or fifteen seconds nothing comes out of your radio but the sound of a flaring match.
“Now, where were we? Oh, yes, advertising. I think we ought to be grateful for all those advertisers who took ads to tell us how much money they made during the war and are now talking ads attacking the O. P. A. because they can’t make more money.
*    *    *
You have to listen to Morgan for a long time before you discover the sense behind his nonsense. Morgan is a wit with a sharp eye for the ridiculous, but he doesn’t explain his jokes. He expects you to understand them. He recoils from any form of showmanship like a minister from sin. For that very reason Morgan will never be on the top of the Hooper ratings.
The Morgan program, I’m forced to add, is also extremely uneven. Like the little girl in the jingle, when he’s good, he’s very good; when he’s bad, he’s awful. Five times a week is too many times a week to be funny. I wish Morgan would get a full-size show with other entertainers on it which would come on just once a week. I also wish he had one big sponsor instead of a lot of little ones.
If you care to listen, Morgan “will be on the same corner in front of the cigar store at the same time” tonight. The cigar store is WJZ, and the time is 6:45 p. m.

I’ve been trying to post Crosby’s columns beginning at the start of his career reviewing radio shows. Here’s the rest of the week that the Morgan column appeared. June 10, 1946 looks at a D-Day anniversary broadcast on NBC with correspondent John McVane, who later moved over to ABC and was still working for them on radio and TV in the early ‘70s.

The June 11th column reports on both pianist Alec Templeton and the Frank Morgan summer show; yes, the same Frank Morgan who played the title role in The Wizard of Oz.

The June 13th column looks at the husband-wife morning show phenomenon (one that Fred Allen and Tallulah Bankhead ridiculed, prompting Crosby to post chunks of the dialogue in his column). See who Crosby picks as the best of a bad lot on New York radio.

June 14th is about The Incomparable Hildegarde, who was still performing in the 1980s and died at the age of 99. She was once quoted as saying Miss Piggy of the Muppets stole the idea of long gloves from her, though they were part of ladies formal wear long before Hilde tapped a keyboard.

You can click on each column so you can read it better.

Elephantrombone

There isn’t any jazz in Congo Jazz until about 2/3rds of the way through when animals play each other and themselves as musical instruments to the song “Giving It This and That” from the Warner Bros. box office bomb Sweet Mama. Both films were released in 1930.



The giraffe that’s a saxophone and a bagpipe is inspired but most of the cartoon is pretty dull. Some of the bits remind of things in a silent Oswald cartoon; considering Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising were involved with both, that shouldn’t be a surprise.

Not the "Lumps" Gag!

“One or two lumps?” says the spy with an Eastern European accent to Boston Quackie. Yeah, you know where this gag’s going.



Quackie asks for three lumps and gets three, even though the spy only hits him twice.

Boston Quackie is a really weak send-up of the radio show Boston Blackie, starring Daffy Duck in the title role. Writer Tedd Pierce couldn’t be bothered to think of a parody name for Blackie’s girl-friend Mary. Quackie’s girl is named “Mary” in this cartoon. His pun on Inspector Farraday is “Inspector Faraway.”

The TV version of Boston Blackie with Kent Taylor was in reruns when this cartoon was released in 1957. Bob McKimson directed with George Grandpre, Ted Bonnicksen, Keith Darling and Russ Dyson animating; Dyson was dead by the time the cartoon hit theatres.

Jack Benny, Interviewer and Answerer

What would you ask Jack Benny if you could talk to him?

It seems people wanted to know if all that stuff portrayed on the Jack Benny show was true—whether he drove a Maxwell, if he was cheap, etc.

I imagine the questioning in this joke-filled column in the New York Herald Tribune was pure invention but I’ve read enough of these old newspaper stories to learn that people really did ask Benny if he wore a rug. After all, Benny related in his autobiography, edited and co-written by his daughter Joan, that someone angrily wrote him, chastising him for the way he treated Rochester, not clueing in that he was talking about a fictional character played by a well-paid actor.

This column appeared on January 12, 1959. Benny (or whoever ghosted this) attributes a quote to Fred Allen. It was actually said by Benny’s first writer, Harry Conn, but considering their not-so-gracious break-up, it’s understandable why Benny might not want to credit him.

The Real Benny—As Jack Sees Him
Because Miss Torre refused to reveal the source of a news item that appeared in her column, she has been sentenced to ten days in jail. While she is away, her friends in television will write guest columns.
By JACK BENNY
WHEN MARIE TORRE asked me to do a guest column for her, I rushed right to the typewriter to do the piece. As I sat poised, with my fingers on the keys, I suddenly realized I had reached my first hurdle. I couldn't type.
So I quickly took pen in hand to write the column, but then I remembered I wasn't a writer either. As the late, great Fred Allen once said about me, "Benny couldn't ad lib a burp after a Hungarian dinner."
Undaunted, I rushed to my writers and asked them if they would write the column for me. There was a hushed silence for a moment and then one of the boys pulled out his contract, which he always keeps on hand for such emergencies. There in fine print he unearthed a clause that limited their duties to writing my program and mowing my lawn. I pleaded with them to ignore the clause, but they insisted that if they were to write a column, I would have to pay them their weekly salaries. Now I like Marie Torre—but not $200 worth.
After I fired my lawyer, I though it over and decided that just because I'm a comedian, it doesn't mean I have to be funny all the time. Why not write a straight, informative column on interviews with people on the subject of television?
THE FIRST QUESTION I posed was, "What's wrong with television?" I stopped a man on the street with the question and within five minutes I had enough for a novelette.
So I dropped that subject and asked the next person I met, "What's right with television?". It became a little embarrassing because all I heard were raves for the Jack Benny Show. I decided not to use this observation because it would sound too conceited coming from me, especially since the person I was talking to was my press agent.
Since I couldn't think of any more questions, it seemed more convenient to dump the whole interrogation idea and instead answer the question asked of me by my fans.
The most frequent question is "Are you really 39?" The answer is, "Yes." Last year I pulled a hoax on the American public and celebrated my 40th birthday, but this was because CBS offered to throw a big party for me at their expense. Mary thought it was just awful of me to accept all the presents I was given on this phony birthday and insisted I return them. I agreed with her and took them all back to the stores and got the money back.
EVERYONE wants to know if I have my own hair or wear a toupee. I must confess that I have as much, if not more hair, than Yul Brynner.
Many people inquire if my eyes are blue. If anyone is interested, my eyes are bluer than the stomach of a dachshund running through a huckleberry patch.
Everyone wants to know if I really own a Maxwell. The answer is "No" at this time, but I will own one after I make two more payments. I'll be the only one who ever got his car owner certificate and 400,000-mile checkup at the same time.
Many people are curious to know if I really have a vault 200 feet down in my cellar.
Doesn't everybody? Others ask if it is true that Brigitte Bardot is infatuated with me? Being a gentleman, I feel it only right that the announcement come from her.
And lastly, there has been a lot of talk as to whether or not I'm cheap. You can find out by asking Marie Torre after she gets my bill for writing this column.