Thursday, 26 September 2019

W. Wren, Take Two

“Here is a terrible cartoon,” proclaimed H. Goldson, manager of the Plaza Theatre in Chicago.

He or she is talking about Magic Strength, a 1944 Columbia cartoon starring a guy with a name that you’d think is a bird character—Willoughby Wren.

The cartoon is another pre-UPA style effort. About the first minute is done in pose-to-pose limited animation. Later in the cartoon, you’ll find representational backgrounds, instead of the watercolours found at other studios. UPA loved that kind of thing. Columbia did, too, because the opening was re-used from the 1943 cartoon Willoughby’s Magic Hat. In fact, this is kind of a re-working at that cartoon, but is visually less interesting.

In the frames below, you can see sketchy backdrops to the action, and some silhouettes.



A wonder if the piano player is a caricature of someone at the studio, where Dave Fleischer was producing. The cartoon was directed by Bob “I-Work-Cheaper-Than-Art-Davis” Wickersham, and the animation is credited to Chic Otterstrom and Ben Lloyd, while the music was by Eddie Kilfeather.



Chuck Jones went for a similar kind of burlesque in The Dover Boys, including limited movement and stylised backgrounds. It was superior in every way. Jones had funny characters. This cartoon has a bunch of zeroes.

Dun Roman came up with the story. John McLeish is the narrator and several other characters. I don’t know who plays Willoughby.

Wednesday, 25 September 2019

Fred, Fans and Fuzzless Peaches

Fred Allen kept extensive scrapbooks of his radio career, with hundreds of newspaper and magazine clippings glued into them. They’re now in the archives of the Boston Public Library.

Unfortunately, Fred didn’t bother dating most of the clippings or write where they can from. We’ve transcribed one below that’s obviously from the New York World-Telegram but other than being somewhere between 1934 and 1939, I have no idea what year it was published. (Yes, it would be magnificent if the World-Telegram’s archives were on-line, as well as several other New York City newspapers).

Here, Fred talks about putting his radio show together, and we learn he is annoyed with fan mail. And, a little sadly, we read how his wife Portland didn’t really have a social life. The two of them lived frugally, they didn’t hang out with anyone, and their summer break from radio was often spent in the Maine, far away from any people. By all accounts, she loved Fred but I wonder how lonely she got at times.

“It’s Tough Life,” Says Portland
Mrs. Fred Allen Has Nothing to Wear, but, Anyhow, She Has No Time to Wear It.

By ALTON COOK
World-Telegram Radio Editor
IN the Fred Allen studio the other night, Portland (she’s Mrs. Fred Allen, you know) was confiding to a girl-friend, “I haven’t a single evening dress any more.” That seemed astonishing, with Fred making all this money in radio these last couple of years, but as Portland went on, “we just don’t go anywhere I’d need one.”
After his Wednesday evening broadcast, Fred sits down with a couple of friends for a midnight lunch and that is about the extent of the Allen’s social life. All the rest of the week goes into preparation of the program.
Thursday night around 8 Fred starts on the comedy hit of the show. If he finishes it Thursday he allows himself Friday night off. He might be uneasy about that wasted time with so much of the script unfinished, but he has convinced himself with, “We usually go to the theater and I often see something I can burlesque.”
* * *
Every Day Routined.
SATURDAY is set aside for the writing of the dialogue with Portland, and Sunday for the newsreels that open the program. Fred reads all nine New York papers daily and saves clippings to provide the inspirations for the newsreel travesties.
They don’t seem to take so much work, those three or four little newsreel skits, but radio rules complicate them. No living person can be mentioned by name without permission, nothing controversial even hinted, not one listener offended, etc. That makes it hard to deal with current topics.
Fred’s script runs twenty-odd pages, but he types the whole first draft of it himself Sunday night. “Doing that,” he explains, “I can make little changes as I go along and I find I save myself time in the end.” He usually finishes a little after midnight Sunday.
* * *
Then Comes Rehearsal.
FIRST rehearsals come Monday and then back to the hotel to revise the parts that didn’t play well. That takes up Tuesday, too. The revised script goes into rehearsal Wednesday morning and then comes a session with the sponsor, discussing whether this and that should come out or be modified. He broadcasts at 9 P.M. for the East and Middle West and against at midnight for the California listeners.
That brings him around to 1 A.M. and the big night over a dish of sour cream and vegetables or a steak sandwich at a little delicatessen with his friends. Occasionally they mar his digestion with remarks, “What a nice life you must lead. Just that one broadcast and all the rest of the week to yourself.”
* * *
Fred’s Outings.
OF course, Fred does have his little recreations. He allots himself two mornings for handball at a nearby Y.M.C.A. Elaborate precautions are taken to guard him from telephone calls, but if anyone does get him on the phone Fred talks ten minutes or so with obvious relish.
Answering fan mail is classified as work with radio stars, but the classification is a little doubtful in Fred’s case. He complains constantly about those letters, and repeatedly his sponsor has arranged to take them off his hands. Nevertheless, Fred always gathers the letters together and dictates answers all Thursday afternoon.
He carried on a long exchange of notes on fuzzless peaches with one man. Not long ago a sharp-penned correspondent was told, “Why don’t you send me a note telling me what you do for a living. Maybe I wouldn’t like that, either.” That part of his life isn’t so bleak.
And several times a day he smokes a cigar.
* * *
His Joke Books.
A COUPLE of weeks ago an aged, destitute juggler wrote he had a very valuable joke book which he would gladly let Fred have for $5. Fred had no desire for the book, but he started out as a juggler so he sent the money. Just as he thought, the book was the ordinary 10-cent variety, but with it came a note:—“I hate to play this trick on you, but I had to have money somewhere and I thought you would not mind helping out another juggler.” That confession seemed to please Fred immensely and he has been telling the story every Wednesday night at the delicatessen.
Fred has a collection of joke books in his hotel room, but he makes little use of them. Not that he loftily disdains old jokes, but he has the sort of mind that retains them for use when needed. The books do serve one purpose.
“It’s comforting to have them around,” he explained. “You feel that if you really do get stuck, you can always get some sort of gags out of the books. We spent one week-end in Atlantic City and I tried to work there, but I couldn’t get anything done. I sat and worried about what I could do if the inspiration didn’t come.”

Tuesday, 24 September 2019

Olive Oyl Has Bananas Today

Be Kind to “Aminals” is one of the weaker early Popeyes, but it gives the animators a chance to indulge in a favourite pastime—to twist Olive Oyl into different shapes. Here are some frames as she slips on some bananas as the soundtrack plays the only possible appropriate song.



Willard Bowsky and Tex Hastings are the credited animators.

Oh, you can hear an ancient version of the appropriate song below.

Monday, 23 September 2019

West of the Pesos Background

Establishing shot painted by Bill Butler from a layout by Bob Givens.



This Sylvester/Speedy Gonzales cartoon was directed by Bob McKimson and released by Warner Bros. in early 1960.

Sunday, 22 September 2019

Look Who's In Town

One of Jack Benny’s loves was getting in the car with someone and going somewhere. That “someone” wasn’t his wife, Mary Livingstone. Trips to Paris or London, fine. Driving around the U.S.A.? Not really. So Jack had travelling companions; one was the guitarist on his show, Frank Remley.

Remley didn’t make the trip with Jack described in the July 12, 1941 edition of the Lincoln Star. According to old issues of Variety, Harvey Cooper was Jack’s trainer while Harry Lee was his stand-in during filming of The Horn Blows at Midnight and needed eight-inch lifts in his shoes (he had been connected with Jack since 1933, but the paper doesn’t say how). The Star didn’t send an entertainment reporter to cover Benny’s arrival. Instead, the guy covering the night police beat did. He probably welcomed the change of pace.

Jack talks about his radio show—and listener complaints—and life making movies.

Jack Benny's Famous "Maxwell" Is A High-Powered '41 Maroon Convertible
COMEDIAN MAKES OVERNIGHT LINCOLN STOP

BY CON ERICKSON.
Jello again!
He didn't say that last night but the ever-popular radio and screen comedian was in Lincoln—"Maxwell" and all. Jack Benny, in fact, paid his first visit to Lincoln in some 18 years.
And when the night police reporter heard about it he knew it would sort of be stepping out of bounds you know, fires, accidents, etc. But on the other hand, surely someone had to talk to Mr. Benny. So—
When we found Mr. B., he had just finished a steak at the Cornhusker hotel and was chatting with two traveling companions and A. Q. Schimmel, hotel manager. It was about 11:30 p. m.—we wouldn't be sure.
Between Puffs.
But he graciously granted our request for a few words. And between puffs on a big cigar—he really smokes them—we learned, for one thing, that Mr. Benny isn't afraid of being caught in the draft.
"I'm one that missed it," he said.
The comedian is motoring from Los Angeles to Chicago. He will spend about two weeks, he said, and fly back. Two friends, Harvey H. Cooper, and Harry Lee, are traveling with him.
Well tanned, Mr. Benny was attired in a slack suit with open collar and appeared very comfortable, indeed. Although his hair is greying somewhat, he looked like Jack Benny and no one else.
Benny finds radio and motion picture work equally interesting.
"When you make a good picture, it's interesting," he said, "and when you give a good program, it's interesting. On the other hand, if you give a 'louzy' program, it is very uninteresting."
Constant Worry.
The entertainer confessed that radio "is a little more difficult" explaining that it is always a constant worry. "It is the script-writing," he said, "that takes the time."
Asked concerning the whereabouts of Rochester, Mr. Benny said that he is in the east making personal appearances as are other members of his troup[e]. His trip to Chicago is merely a vacation, he said, to visit friends and relatives.
One of the many things Mr. Benny has to watch in his radio script is the use of common-place expressions. Once he referred to spending money "like a drunken sailor" and had to write apologies to naval big-wigs the world over.
"All you're saying is that when a sailor gets drunk, he spends money," he commented. "It should be a compliment." Use of "a starving Armenian" likewise brought the actor considerable grief.
Life Not Easy.
Mr. Benny was quite enthusiastic about his latest picture, "Charlie's Aunt" which will be released in about two weeks. He appears with Kay Francis and a number of English actors.
The life of a comedian isn't always easy, either, Mr. Benny told us explaining that while working on pictures, he is in the habit of arising at 6:30 every morning.
"It's not all like you see it on the screen. In fact it reminds me of that old gag, 'Paris isn't like you see it on the post cards.' "
But to get back to that "Maxwell" we learned that it's a high-powered, 1941 maroon convertible. So, now we know what he means when he says:
"Buck Benny rides again!"

Saturday, 21 September 2019

He Came to Save Van Beuren

Van Beuren cartoons weren’t exactly A-list cartoons, and studio owner Amadee Van Beuren decided to change that.

Up to 1934, the Van Beuren cartoons weren’t drawn or written that well, though there were a few exceptions. Distributor RKO evidently wasn’t happy. So Van Beuren got rid of studio overseer Gene Rodemich and brought in the one man he thought could make his cartoons as good as Disney’s.

Burt Gillett.

Gillett had animated in New York before heading west to work for Walt Disney. He directed the Oscar-winning The Three Little Pigs, arguably the most popular cartoon the Disney studio made up to that point (meaning the most popular cartoon of all time). Film Daily announced April 7, 1934 that Amadee Van Beuren had hired Gillett to run his cartoon department.

The Newburgh Daily News had employed Gillett at one point and decided to welcome home the former employee in print. This was published June 22, 1934.
Burt Gillett Tames Big Bad Wolf
Ex-Staff Member of The News Gets New Big Job
Silly Symphony’s Director Now in Demand

BURTON F. Gillett, former Newburgh News staff artist, the man who immortalized the Big Bad Wolf in song and animated cartoon, has, as a result, not only kept the wolf from the door, but has the vicious animal practically eating out of his hand today.
Ever since Mr. Gillett produced for Walt Disney that ingenious, brilliant symbolical “Three Little Pigs" last spring, he has been in great demand hy producers of animated cartoons to guide the destinies of their staffs. Though the wolf was not, figuratively speaking, at Mr. Gillett's door in Hollywood, he nevertheless accepted a flattering offer of the Van Beuren Corporation, Picture Cartoons.
The Native Returns
And now, Mr. Gillett, who was one of the first movie cartoon animators to leave the East for the West Coast, has returned to head tha Van Beuren Corporation's vast cartoon studio in New York City. Incidentally, the very building to which the native returns is the one in which he began his carter as an animator.
Mr. Gillett's rise in this difficult branch of the motion picture industry has been the result of long, arduous work and endless research. The Gillett creative genius has been seen in many of the Mickey Mouse productions, which include the revolutionary animated drawings in color.
Films Awarded Prizes
Three years ago Walt Disney appointed Mr. Gillett a director and, since then, he has collaborated in the writing and has directed many of the Mickey Mouse and Silly Symphony successes. Burt Gillett directed the first Technicolor Silly Symphony, "Trees and Flowers," which, in 1931, was awarded the special certificate of merit by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
During the time that these Silly Symphonies were made, Burt Gillett also directed many successful Mickey Mouse cartoons. Just prior to leaving the Disney organization, Mr. Gillett directed "The Big Bad Wolf,” a sequel to “The Three Little Pigs," which received a four star rating in Liberty.
Burt Gillett brings to the Van Beuren organization a new view point on cartoon values as applied to motion picture audiences. He has been largely responsible for developing the human interest angle in cartoon? The old black and white cartoons were built solely on the lines of slapstick gags and the usual cartoon absurdities, such as were embodied successfully for many years in the Aesop's Fables. With the advent of sound, an entirely new technique of cartoon production sprang up. Sound opened up opportunities and Burt Gillett was one of the first to recognize and make use of these new possibilities.
Lives in Scarsdale
Mr. and Mrs. Gillett and their son are now making their home in Scarsdale.
"I was reluctant to leave California as I like the climate and my associates out there very much." he says. “However, business is business and this looks like a splendid opportunity, so here I am.”
Mr. Gillett has many friends in Newburgh, where he worked several years for The News as reporter, cartoonist and photographer. He says he plans to drive up here to visit his friends some weekend soon.
In late 1933, Amadee Van Beuren had gone to the expense of signing Amos ‘n’ Andy to a series of cartoons. They were the most popular duo on radio. The series should have been a success. Only two cartoons were made; they’re incredibly ugly and suffer from the studio’s inability to put together a cohesive story. The series was gone by the time Gillett arrived; at that point George Stallings was directing both the Cubby Bear cartoons and the ones starring The Little King, based on the Otto Soglow comic.

None of this would do for Gillett. He scrapped them all, removed Stallings and gave another chance at directing to Steve Muffatti and Jim Tyer, as well as former independent producer Ted Eshbaugh. Gillett came up with Rainbow Parades to complete against Disney’s Silly Symphonies, only with less colour, and a combination live action/animation series called Toddle Tales. The Tales were a disaster and the series was cut short at three releases. It was now 1935 and Gillett decided to bring in a co-director he could trust, someone who had also worked at Disney—Tom Palmer. Palmer is better known as Leon Schlesinger’s director who was so bad, Friz Freleng had to rework his cartoons so Warner Bros. would accept them for release.

Shamus Culhane worked for Gillett during this period and claimed he was mentally unstable. Izzy Klein remembered how Gillett was constantly firing people. Gillett and Palmer tried to make a star out of Molly Moo Cow. Molly was put out to pasture after four cartoons. Van Beuren decided to buy properties with instant name recognition—Felix the Cat and the Toonerville Trolley, based on the panel cartoon by Fontaine Fox.

Gillett had some pretty good people as 1936 began—Jack Zander, Bill Littlejohn, Dan Gordon, Alex Lovy, Carlo Vinci and Joe Barbera. But time simply ran out. RKO decided to ignore the cartoon studio it part-owned and, instead, release cartoons from Gillett’s old boss, Walt Disney. The Van Beuren studio was gone by mid-1936 and Gillett toddled with his tail (as opposed to “tales”) between his legs back to the West Coast. Eventually, he got out of animation. His 1942 draft registration lists him as employed at McDonnell’s Restaurant on Pico Street in Los Angeles; his 1943 marriage certificate states he was a machine operator.

You can read a far more complete biography of Gillett in this thorough piece of research by Devon Baxter.

Friday, 20 September 2019

Agony

Trying to pick out something interesting from Walter Lantz cartoons by the mid-1950s isn’t all that easy.

In Bedtime Bedlam (1955), Woody accepts an evening babysitting job for $50. After a rich woman played by June Foray and her mute husband leave, Woody discovers the baby is a gorilla. He makes a break for it—then suddenly stops, realising $50 is at stake. The agony of the situation is clear.



The story is lame. The gorilla has no real personality, Woody gets bashed around a bit, then somehow the gorilla escapes every danger as Woody tries to tire him out. There’s no reason or logic behind the gorilla’s survival. At the end, Woody learns via TV that Mr. and Mrs. Moneybelt are leaving for 20 years. Why did she tell Woody that the job was only for an evening?

Can you tell Paul J. Smith and Homer Brightman were the director and writer?

Gil Turner, Bob Bentley and Herman Cohen are the animators on this short.

Thursday, 19 September 2019

Fish! FIIIISH!

The early, crazed Daffy Duck isn’t the only one at Warner Bros. who jumped around, turning cartwheels, while yelling with excitement. Porky Pig’s cat does it when he’s told they’re having fish for dinner.



This is one of those cartoons where a bird goes “Now I’ve seen everything” and shoots himself to death.

Vive Risto and Dave Hoffman are the credited animators in The Sour Puss. Izzy Ellis, John Carey and Norm McCabe likely worked on this cartoon as well. It was released in 1940.

Wednesday, 18 September 2019

He Was Always a Boy

The sub-headline in the Hackensack Record of October 13, 1923 read “Walter Tetley, Seven, of Ridgefield Park, Can Imitate Famous Scotchman to Perfection.” The same newspaper of May 11, 1926 gave his age as nine. Five years later in 1931, a wire service story proclaimed he was 10. Four years later, several newspaper articles stated he was 15.

Which was correct? None of them.

Tetley was born June 2, 1915. He was eight when it was claimed he was seven and 20 when it was said he was 15.

In case you don’t know who we’re talking about, Tetley was the voice of Sherman in the Mr. Peabody cartoons on the Rocky and Bullwinkle show. He played Andy Panda in the later 1940s for Walter Lantz, who also employed him as the voice of Reddy Kilowatt in commercial cartoons. But his main fame came from when he scored hits as a child voice on The Great Gildersleeve and The Phil Harris-Alice Faye Show. He was in his 40s when Gildersleeve finally went off the air, but he was still playing a pre-teen on the air.

Lying about his age gave him a crack a while longer at juvenile roles. And that’s all Tetley could play. He had some kind of condition where his voice never changed. But he aged; pictures make it look like he had the face of the man but the body of a child.

None of this was ever referred to, of course, during Tetley’s career. He seems to have been reticent to do interviews.

Here’s a feature story on him in Radio Life, that fine Los Angeles-based magazine, from October 8, 1944. The murky scans below are the best we can do to provide the photos that accompanied the article.
"HO-HO! What a Character!"
By Malcolm Boyd
In Which We Introduce Walter Tetley—Alias Nephew Leroy
Sunday, 8:00 p.m.
NBC-KFI
HO-HO! WHAT a character!"
To millions of radio listeners this is the special trademark of "Leroy" who is helping his ether uncle, Throckmorton P. Gildersleeve, rake in the nation's top ratings on listener popularity. But success is anything but new to "Leroy," alias Walter Tetley who, at the tender age of ten, was salting away more than $100 a day as a radio actor.
Now further along in years, Walter has dwarfed his ten-year-old salary by playing movie parts, freelancing in many radio shows and becoming a permanent fixture on the top-notch NBC comedy show, "The Great Gildersleeve." Walter can point to the future and say, "Life Begins at Twenty." His star shows no signs of waning. "I started in show business when I was five years old doing a single act in vaudeville," Walter says. "I was seven when my mother was working on a case as a registered nurse and the mother of the little girl she was taking care of knew that I was working. She suggested that I do some radio work and got me an audition with NBC. The next thing I knew I was singing Scotch songs on the Children's Hour over WJZ, New York, every Sunday morning."
Walter's next radio job, also on NBC in New York, was a part in a kid's strip show called "The Lady Next Door." It was Walter's first script reading experience. "Everything on the green earth happened," he says.
Accidental Casting
When Walter landed a part in NBC's children's serial, "Raising Junior," it was quite by accident. When tryouts were held for a part in the show, Walter dropped around with a friend. His friend got the part and Walter didn't even try out. Then on the day of the program, Walter was in the studios doing his part in "The Lady Next Door."
When he had finished he calmly walked into an elevator going down. But, at that moment, a hand grabbed him by the collar through the elevator door. He was whisked into a studio and told that he would have to read his friend's part in "Raising Junior." His little chum hadn't shown up and time-to-go before the show would hit the air was approximately four minutes. With nary a look at the script, Walter found himself doing the part into a live mike. He repeated this process weekly for the next four years by landing the part permanently then and there.
With Fred Allen
Fame and fortune really arrived when Fred Allen gave Walter a call to be on his weekly show. For Walter it was invaluable experience. He had to play all kinds of characters and master such dialects as English, Irish, Scotch, hillbilly and tough brat. When Allen came to Hollywood he brought Walter with him. But when Allen returned to New York, Walter stayed right here.
It was a wise choice, because before he could turn around the movies called him. And Walter found himself in "Lord Jeff" with Mickey Rooney and Freddie Bartholomew and in "The Spirit of Culver" with Jackie Cooper.
In the Abbott and Costello film, "Who Done It?" Walter was assigned to a small part in one scene. The next thing he knew Costello requested added scenes for him. Walter ended up in ten good scenes which ran through the entire picture!
In one sequence of the movie, Walter is seen walking into a drugstore. Costello is seen standing behind the counter.
"How much is your orange juice?" asks Walter.
"Fifteen cents a glass," answers Costello.
"That's too much money."
"Not the way I make 'em."
"I betcha a dime I can drink the orange juice faster than you can make it."
"That's a bet."
Costello proceeds to make the orange juice and Walter proceeds to drink it faster. After ten glasses, Costello gives up.
"You win. Here's your dime," he says.
After ten takes of the scene, Walter had drunk one hundred glasses of orange juice in one day alone. Everything would have been all sight—only Walter is allergic to citrus juices.
Peary Sends For Him
Whenever Fibber McGee and Molly had a boy's part on their show, they called Walter. Hal Peary was also on the program, playing a part he had created and named Gildersleeve. Three years ago when Peary went his own way and a sponsor became interested in the prospect of a new comedy, Walter had returned to New York with his family. A wire from Hal Peary brought him out to Hollywood where he has remained ever since.
Walter's characterization of "Leroy" has become so famous that many listeners react as though he were one of the family. "Uncle Mort" had to give "Leroy" a spanking over the radio recently. Along in the mail the following week came a package addressed to Walter. It was for "Leroy" to use in protecting himself from "Uncle Mort." It's name? "The Van Court Scientific Course in Boxing!" Typical scene from the script:
GILDERSLEEVE: Who hit you, Leroy?
LEROY: Eugene Clanahan. The big cheater.
GILDY: Clanahan! Here, wipe your nose.
LEROY: Okay.
GILDY: Not on your shirt! I'm giving you a handkerchief!
LEROY: Thanks.
GILDY: What do you mean when you say Eugene cheated, Leroy?
LEROY: He started throwing rocks.
GILDY: Just like his father, by George. I'll go and see that Clanahan! I'll knock his block off!
LEROY: (cheering a little) Attaboy, Unk! Can I watch?
GILDY: Well—maybe I'll just speak to Eugene.
LEROY: He's the toughest kid in the school.
GILDY: He is? Confound it. Leroy, why can't you plug peaceably with your friends?
LEROY: How can we play peaceably? Eugene's gang won't leave us alone.
GILDY: Wait a minute. What is this gang of yours?
LEROY: Just a gang. that's all. Only our gang fights fair, and Eugene's gang cheats, throwing rocks all the tine. MARJORIE: Didn't I see you throwing rocks yesterday?
LEROY: (Indignantly) We never throw anything but dirt clods!
MARJORIE: Well, yesterday you threw a—
LEROY : If there's a rock inside of it, that's an accident!
With his family, Walter lives fifteen miles outside of Hollywood in the San Fernando valley. They have an attractive white stucco Spanish-style house, a swimming pool and, believe it or not, a farm, where Walter's dad spends all his time. They call the place the "Big Oak Ranch" because the house is built around a big oak tree whose branches afford a natural cooling system. Walter's mother is a Lieutenant Colonel in the Women's Emergency corps and is in charge of a free canteen for servicemen in Beverly Hills.
Mr. Tetley was in the New York post office for thirty-five years until he retired on a government pension around a year ago. Walter's brother is a precision parts inspector in a nearby defense plant.
The Tetleys also have a stable with two horses. One of them pulls an old-fashioned "Surrey with the Fringe on Top" which stands on the farm and has been used in many old-time movies. The Tetleys have four dogs, five cats, two hundred chickens and two ducks—which Walter named Hedy and Lana.
After a busy day in downtown Hollywood this famous young radio actor can retire to the peace and quiet of the San Fernando valley and make plans for his future career.
He'll stick to radio, but don't be surprised if he ends up by being a writer or producer.
"Why, Walter, you'll probably be producing the biggest shows on the air," says a friend.
"Are you kiddin'?" says "Leroy."
Tetley started out as a Harry Lauder imitator, but he was Scottish on his mother’s side only. His last name was Tetzlaff; his father Fred was of German descent (though born in New York) and worked in the Ridgefield Park post office. His mother’s last name was Campbell and born in Scotland.

An affinity for Scotland, Tetley had, beyond being a Harry Lauder impersonator. Witness this story from the Province of June 17, 1950, of a trip to Vancouver.
Only a guy with a name like 'Walter Campbell Tetley' would travel a thousand miles just to blow into a bag-pipe. Obviously an embittered soul driven to the 'instrument of hell' by the vicious pace of life along Sunset Boulevard, Walter will hie himself all the way from Hollywood to Brockton Point July 1 to add a dash of levity to the Police Sports show and become an honorary member of the Police Pipe band.
Mr. Tetley masquerades professionally under a couple of well-known aliases. He is "Leroy" on the Gildersleeve radio show and "Julius" on the Phil Harris show. He loves his sponsors, picks up his cheques with either hand and is figured a whiz at adding a bright touch to sombre track and field productions.
Det.-Sgt. John Gillies, drum-beater for the PMBA-sponsored meet, informs us that W.C. comes at his own expense at the urging of another honorary Police Piper and veteran of the '48 Caledonian Games—Bill Thompson, also of Hollywood.
Thompson, another sucker for the old Aberdeen squeeze-play, is the Wallace Wimple of the Fibber McGee and Molly show. As you see, our police deal only with characters.
Tetley was very community minded. He was a member of the Kiwanis club, he became a Mason and later joined the Mystic Order of Veiled Prophets of the Enchanted Realm, better known as the Grotto, an organisation of Masons that helps children with cerebral palsy. He got up to Master of Ceremonies (akin to second vice-president) of Cinema Grotto and was Tyler of his Masonic Lodge in 1974 but his cancer was slowly spreading. He died September 6, 1975 at age 60, with a memorial service conducted by his brother Masons.

Both men who played Gildersleeve, Hal Peary and Willard Waterman, and Elliott Lewis, who worked with him on the Harris-Faye show, praised his acting abilities. Tetley’s Julius on the Harris show was so ridiculously over-the-top, he was very funny but still believable. He seems to have been a nice man, too. Considering that, he can be forgiven for fudging about his age all those years.

Tuesday, 17 September 2019

Viva Unmatched Shots

Willie Whopper storms the hideout of some banditos in Viva Willie and crashes into a wall.



Evidently the crash was so great it somehow knocked him into a corner ahd gave him a shadow. These are consecutive frames.



Considering this was the last Willie Whopper cartoon (released October 4, 1934), maybe the artists weren’t too concerned about unmatched shots. (MGM began releasing the Harman-Ising cartoons that replaced them the previous September 1st). Henceforth, the Iwerks studio would only make ComiColor cartoons and release them independently.

Grim Natwick and Berny Wolf got animation credits and Carl Stalling provided the music.