Am I Happy! And Will YOU Be Happy!

MGM’s Leo the Lion was animated in the very first Willie Whopper picture, introducing Metro’s newest animated star. However, he appeared in animated form again.

The studio wanted to bring back Leo to be part of a trailer for its 1935 feature No More Ladies, starring Joan Crawford. It made an odd choice to animate the movie promo.

The Ub Iwerks studio animated the first Leo but it and MGM parted ways in 1934. Metro began releasing shorts made by Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising. For some reason, the studio didn’t get Harman-Ising to provide animated footage for the trailer. It called on Bill Nolan.

We wrote this post about Nolan earlier this year. He had been a long-time animator who was hired by Walter Lantz to co-direct cartoons at Universal and then left in October 1934. The next time the trade papers referred to him was in April 1936 when he briefly went to work for Charles Mintz at Columbia. What he did do in the interim? One thing was the animation for the No More Ladies trailer.

In it, Leo successfully breaks away from a theatre manager/hand who is trying to keep him off a stage. “Oh, boy!” yells Leo, who sounds suspiciously like Billy Bletcher, “Am I happy! And will you be happy!” Leo’s head and then a paw zoom toward the camera.



Historian/restorer Devon Baxter has come across this interview with Nolan conducted by The Daily Record of Long Branch, New Jersey and published August 13, 1935. Nolan doesn’t reveal what exactly he’s doing for a living. The story mistakenly states Nolan “originated” Felix the Cat and Oswald the Rabbit. The former was created, arguably it appears, by Pat Sullivan, Oswald was invented by Walt Disney. However, Nolan is credited with redesigning Felix to make him more attractive and, I suspect, easier to animate, and he directed many Oswald cartoons when Lantz took over the series.

Originator of Felix the Cat, Oswald the Rabbit Returns Here for Visit
By DOROTHY DORAN
No one would anymore think of introducing him as William Nolan of Hollywood, Calif., than they would take a chance killing a Japanese bettle [sic] with a fly-swatter. Both would be clownish. Honestly, this man who makes cartoons walk, talk and do spectacular stunts was halfway in the living-room of the Cross-Roads, Oceanport, and almost seated before his friend and war buddy, Charles Eager of Long Branch, announced, "Meet Bill."
A bulk of copy paper on a coffee table subtly hinted to the son of Mr. and Mrs. John J. Nolan of Long Branch that he was in for something. Arming himself with a cigarette he suggested, "May I smoke?" which was countered with "Proceed." He did and told how he studied at an art school in Providence, Rhode Island, and his first job, ('cause it didn't pay enough to be called a position!) was with the Bridgeport and Waterbury Herald as political cartoonist. The Associated Press signed him up in the same capacity and in between times he' did specialty sketches for the Worcester papers.
The thing that actually drove him to Long Branch was typhoid fever, plus his doctor's advice to wander seaward and throw the disease in the ocean. He certainly did and luck was with him again on his return to New England for he ran across Raoul Barrie [sic] who had brought back the animated cartoon idea from Paris. Of course the first pictures were crude and walked disjointedly but the two men dickered with them and modestly Mr. Nolan advanced, "I had a finger in most of the refinement ideas." Then, as if afraid he was boasting, he added, "The latest British Encyclopedia does give me credit for originating panoramic backgrounds in animated cartoons." Later on he released with Barrie some of the films as novelties. They were sponsored by the old Edison Film Company.
About this time Hearst had a hunch to put some punch in his cartoon strips and for a year Bill Nolan brought them to life. Recalling how Long Branch had brought him luck before in health, he came back and established in 1915 his first studio on Garfield Avenue and did Bud Fisher's Mutt and Jeff series. Every four weeks he alternated with Paul Terry of "Terrytoons," Raoul Barrie and Gregory LaCave (who is now the highest paid director in Hollywood) in turning out one of these motion cartoons. Next he drew some indoor sport animateds about Tad's stuff, featuring the Daffodil and Laughing cat. These were made in West End. Not to his liking he had to write his own stories, so once a week he drove his car early in the morning out to Goose Neck Point to pen his inspirations. He confessed, “I knew whose goose would be cooked if I failed to finish that story before leaving. So I never did.”
Did Felix the Cat
For two years Bill Nolan did Felix the Cat in New York with Pat Sullivan, but when Krazy Kat came along he hiked for West End and had a staff of 15 working there. This was during 1926-27-28. Locally, also, he did work for F. B. O. in News Laughs. They were really highlights and laughter on the outstanding happenings of the day. In other words, punning on people and situations.
Before 1930 had fully dawned the talkies had crashed silent pictures and sounds didn't come cheap. There was no alternative. The equipment was too expensive to buy alone so the song, "The Coast Is Calling You!" had to be put into action. Out to Hollywood Bill Nolan went and signed first a year, then a five year contract with Universal Film Corporation, using Oswald the Rabbit for his hero.
Here in the interview the last puff on his cigarette went in an ashtray and be stopped talking for a second or two, then quietly continued, "I picked something quite special in Long Branch, my wife, Viola Golden, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Frank X. Golden. We have two boys, Tom and Bill. They are 12 and 14 years old. Husky was his voice when he spoke of the late Frank Sherman of Long Branch and Chester Karrberg, who were graduated from Chattle High School in Long Branch. Both boys studied here with Bill Nolan and were part of his staff of 50 at Universal City in California. Karrberg died four years ago and Sherman passed away last winter. He fell on the ice and a bloodclot became lodged in his brain. Before the accident he was working on Aesops Fables.
Speaking of neighbors, Bill Nolan enlightened us with, "Why Bing Crosby lives right across the street from me and several doors down Dick Arlen, George Brent, Dick Powell, Mary Brian and Mary Astor hold sway. They all have lovely homes in the Tuluca Lake [sic] section. Dick Powell's home is on the golf course. All the actors are very domestic and never talk shop long. Once in a while they'll lament over their tedious hours. They hate to be paged by autograph hounds and despise people who stare at them from sightseeing buses. Instinctively they are retiring. They loathe high-hatted-ness and consider it a sign of cod-fish-aristocracy.
Dick Powell and Roy Disney, Walt's brother, own private swimming pools and love to have the children come and take a splash. Often they jump in with them and the boys call them regular sports. Bing, you know, has a five-foot wall around his estate, but that doesn't keep schoolgirls from trying to scale it. They use the boosting method one stands at the bottom giving the others a lift, sort of stepladder effect, the last one bewailing when no one's left to give her a push to look over the top."
Liked F. D. Film Best
Here the conversation turned personal again and Bill Nolan was confronted with, "What picture did you enjoy working on most?" and without any mental fumbling at all he retorted, "The Roosevelt film on Confidence. When the New Deal was trying out the Depression, or vice-versa, those in the film industry tried to be helpful to the President with educational features and I liked this picture best because it planted food for thought and was constructive in a humorous, friendly way."
Just lately Nolan made a smart, animated trailer for Joan Crawford's picture, "No More Ladies." Leo the Lion did most of the broadcasting and made himself very clear.
Asked, "How have the talkies influenced the animated cartoons?" he beamed, remarking, "They've put new life in the whole movie industry. Characters must have feeling and react to situations. In the animateds we have electric, visual metronomes which help the orchestras, voices and sound effects to keep step with the moving drawings. In other words there are sometimes three separate soundtracks to be welded to the cartoon film before it is finally printed for showing in the theatres. Universal last year made six films in color. They cost five times as much to print as black and white ones do, otherwise their making represents no added expense.
All the time Bill was chatting along a prayer was going up, "Rain, rain, keep on coming down, for if you don't this man will have to be trailed for the climax of this story all over the Long Branch Country Club where he's booked for a game of golf." Granted was the petition and when Bill Nolan whisked out of the driveway it wasn't "Goodbye" but “'Til we meet again.”

Spike Surprise

Spike is overly abundant with confidence he will inherit the estate of his dead millionaire master in Wags to Riches (released in 1949). The executor’s voices build up to the big announcement. Spike moves closer and closer. Then comes the word “Droopy.”

Director Tex Avery has a typical jaw-drop take (the camera moves back so we get a better view) and Avery then tags it out with a stiff fall.



Avery takes advantage of the pause in the dialogue after the executor says “None...other...than..........” The circles in Spike’s eyes grow and shrink in various colours. There’s a cycle of four drawings, with drawings 2 and 4 being the same.



Jack Cosgriff and Rich Hogan are the storymen, with animation by Bobe Cannon, Mike Lah, Walt Clinton and Grant Simmons.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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!"

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.

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.

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.