Thursday, 23 April 2020

Leaky Dogs

What do you do when a duck drills a hole in your rowboat? You cover it up.

Of course, it’s not quite that simple in a Tex Avery cartoon. In Lucky Ducky, the small dog does a little dance in the air before diving to cover the hole. The water comes out of his ears. The big dog does a little dance in the air and... well, you can figure it out.



Finally, the little dog turns the nose of the big dog to shut off the water.



Walt Clinton, Grant Simmons, Louie Schmitt and Preston Blair are the animators on this cartoon.

Wednesday, 22 April 2020

The Great One Fails

Jackie Gleason may have been known as “The Great One” but he had a moment that wasn’t too great. It was a game show called “You’re in the Picture.”

It debuted on January 20, 1961. It was cancelled after the second show one week later when Gleason went on the air and apologised for how lousy the first one was.

Of course, Gleason felt differently when he was plugging the show before it aired. He predicted success and a financial windfall to columnist H.C. of the New York Herald Tribune in a column five days before the show debuted.
Gleason Returns
WE ASKED the Great Gleason (which is the way he signs his mail, hotel registers, everything but checks) a loaded question. You’ve got all the fame you can enjoy, all the respect a sensitive genius needs, all the satisfaction and money your ego and extravagances require, all the booze you could ever lap up—aren’t you crazy to go back wrestling with the TV gremlins on a regular weekly series starting this Friday night at 9:30 over CBS?
“Fun,” my fine feathered fat friend snorted. “Fun is a commodity of which there is always a shortage. I’m an active guy, mentally and physically. I found out that last night’s applause doesn’t last till the next morning unless you’re weird enough to tape it and replay it. Public acceptance to acclaim is a living thing that acts as adrenalin to an entertainer—the only difference is you can’t take an overdose of it.
“About the upcoming show,” Jackie raved on, “the title, ‘You’re In the Picture,’ pretty much is a give away of the format. When Steve Carlin first approached me with it I listened with a critic’s ears, looking for clinkers and booby traps. Instead I found the whole concept palatable and practical because there’s nothing quite like it on TV—which makes it novelty night.
“It sets up like this. We have a panel of four familiar faces, preferably those of people. Maybe we’ll rotate the celebs, maybe we’ll anchor one or more of them. Sliding in front of the panelists will be a huge picture frame, about 10 feet wide by 7 feet high (my build before I went on a diet!) In each show pictures will be set into the frame, maybe the memorable photo of the raising of Old Flory on Suribachi, or a New Yorker cartoon, or Washington Crossing the Delaware.
“Let’s say it’s the Washington bit. Maybe it’ll be Tallulah Bankhead poking her head through a hole cut in the picture so from up front it’s George’s body and Tallulah’s head you see in the scene. Maybe one of the oarsmen is Ethel Merman or Bill Bendix. The game then is for the stars to guess who they are, what they’re doing, what famous painting or event is being recalled. After the guessing is over we’ll wheel a huge mirror in front of the panelists so they can see what caused all the guffaws.
“My job will be to act as a ‘mobile moderator.’ I’ll help with clues, capers, comments, maybe stick my head through a hole in the picture like I used to do at Coney Island when I was a kid.
“Since the series will be on tape this thing shouldn’t interfere with ‘Gigot,’ the movie Paddy Chayefsky is writing for me to do in Paris, which I think Jose Ferrer will direct. It also won’t interfere with the TV conversation series I’m itching to do, nor the sports shows, nor a variety idea I have up my sleeveless sweater. By the way, we’ll have the only panel show on TV with live music, something of which there is not enough on the air. To sum up, chum, I’m in this racket for two things—to get involved with anything that smells like fun and can make me a million bucks between laughs.”
It this makes Jackie Gleason crazy, I’d like to apply for membership in the club.
The concept was a good one; certainly as good as Godson-Todman’s I’ve Got a Secret. But the problem was Gleason. He thought he could create sparkling entertainment just by walking in and winging it for a half-hour. It doesn’t quite work that way.

Meanwhile, back stage, no one could figure out who should appear on the show with Gleason. Two days before the premiere, this story appeared. (It should be mentioned the original column in the Times didn’t mistake Arthur Treacher for Arthur Tracy. That line was added by the news service).
Who Will Be In Jackie Gleason’s Comedy Panel?
BY VAL ADAMS

New York Times Service
NEW YORK—Persons involved in the presentation of Jackie Gleason’s new comedy panel television show, “You’re In the Picture,” have indicated they don’t know who will be in the picture when the program makes its debut Friday night.
Gleason could not be reached for comment—either in his office or his hotel. The Columbia Broadcasting System said it did not know who would be on the panel. Steve Carlin, producer of the program, said “I’ll let you know Wednesday.”
A representative for Gleason said the comedian had given approval to two proposed panel members—Pat Carroll and Arthur Treacher. He did not say, however, that they would be on Friday’s show.
Miss Carroll and Treacher, who performed as “The Street Singer” in the early days of radio, appeared on a four- member panel during a run-through of the Gleason show last Saturday. It had been expected that a decision about the panel would be made immediately after the run-through.
The indecision in picking a panel for the premiere is said to be a result of Gleason and others involved in the show not speaking in unison.
The Gleason show has been under development at least since December 9, when CBS announced it would have its premiere January 20 at 9:30 P.M.
Initially the network said it would be co-sponsored by the Liggett and Myers Tobacco Company and Plymouth, but the latter has been replaced by the Kellogg Company.
Gleason and producer Carlin considered 50 people in show biz and put 25 of them through trial runs, some of which were videotaped. But Gleason insisted the debut be live. So it was.

Critics weren’t kind the next morning. And neither was Gleason. This story appeared on the wire a day after the second and final show.
Jackie Gleason Admits New TV Show Giant Flop
NEW YORK (AP)—Jackie Gleason took to the air Friday night and confessed to a nation-wide audience that his new panel show was a giant sized flop.
The CBS program, "You're In the Picture," met something less than critical acclaim at its premiere last week.
The portly comedian, in rare form, strolled alone onto the stage Friday night, sat down in an arm chair and told how the whole thing came about.
Television hadn't seen anything like it since Jack Paar walked off his show to go to Hong Kong.
"You're In the Picture" originally had guest panelists sticking their heads through cutouts in prearranged pictures. But, said Gleason, the show was a failure and he tried to explain how a group of 20 TV veterans could have designed such a disaster.
"There's no panel tonight," said Gleason. "There's nothing but an orchestra and myself. We have a creed, namely, honesty is the best policy."
Between sips of coffee, which he identified roguishly as "chock full o' booze," Gleason tried to explain the anatomy of a flop. It wasn't clear why the show failed, but the answer lay partly in the fact that everyone concerned had apparently been wrong in his judgment, Gleason said.
"Show business," sighed Gleason, "is a strange and intangible endeavor."
The future?
"I don't know what we are going to do, but tune in next week for the greatest soap opera-less opera you've ever seen," he said.
Gleason took the failure in stride. He simply carried on with a new format (Kellogg dropped out, saying it wasn’t the show they bought) then revived his variety show in 1962, well-remembered by those old enough to have seen Joe the Bartender exchange words with Crazy Guggenheim. You’re in the Picture didn’t harm Gleason’s career a bit. He still was “The Great One.”

Tuesday, 21 April 2020

The Duck Guitar

Bimbo picks up a roast duck and plays it like a guitar, inspired by the pre-human version of Betty Boop in Dizzy Dishes (1930).



Bimbo puts down the duck and they duplicate dance movements.



Ted Sears and Grim Natwick are the credited animators.

Monday, 20 April 2020

Costello-in-a-Box

Babbitt shoves Catstello into a jack-in-the-box in an attempt to shoot him into the air to catch Tweety in A Tale of Two Kitties, a 1942 Bob Clampett cartoon.

These drawings were shot on twos.



Mel Blanc’s incessant screaming as the Lou Costello cat gets irritating. Tedd Pierce does an admirable job as the Bud Abbott cat. Rod Scribner got the animation credit on the original release.

Sunday, 19 April 2020

Go, Go, Go

By the late 1950s, Jack Benny had two careers going. One was his television show. The other was the violin concerts he gave all over North America. He was still doing both up until he died in late 1974.

Jack talks about both of them in this feature interview with Margaret McManus, who interviewed him a number of times over her career; here’s a link to a piece she wrote in 1957. She talked with him the following year, yet another of those hotel/bathrobe chats he liked to do when on the road. This appeared in the weekend magazine sections of papers on November 2, 1958.

Jack Benny Is A Legend, His Laughs Come Naturally
BY MARGARET McMANUS
NEW YORK—In the dim, red-carpeted hallways of the Sherry-Netherland at noontime of this chill but sunny fall day, there came the sound of violin music. As we were admitted into the parlor of the hotel suite, Jack Benny, wearing a print dressing gown over his blue pajamas, walked out of the bedroom, still playing his violin. The scene was half for laughs, but also very much in character.
Since Benny has been giving his concerts with the leading symphony orchestras all over the country, he practices his violin every day, willingly and with love. Jack Benny, so successful a comedian that he has almost become a legend in his time, is, in truth, a frustrated musician.
Guest Soloist At Benefits
“I only wish I'd practiced this hard forty years ago,” he said. “I get such pleasure out of doing these concerts, I can’t take money for it. They’re always benefits, usually for the symphony.” Symphonies always need funds you know.”
Benny, who gave a concert with the New York Philharmonic in Carnegie Hall here last winter, will appear with the New Orleans and the San Francisco Symphonies this season, and will give three concerts in Great Britain in the spring, in London, Glasgow and Edinburgh.
“It’s all done very legitimately,” he said. “It’s done as if the guest soloist were Heifetz or Isaac Stern, with great dignity and formality. Music critics review it on the basis of a musical evening. The only difference is that it’s lousy playing. I stink.
“The late Mike Todd used to say about my concerts that their appeal isn’t that I have the guts to do this, that the appeal is in the utter pathos of it, the Chaplinesque quality.
“Of course, two thirds of the evening is devoted to good music. I only come on at the end.”
Proud Of His Stradivarius
And, of course, when Benny does come on to perform, he performs on his Stradivarius.
“It was one of the most exciting things that ever happened to me, buying that Strad.” he said. “The one I have was made in 1729 which is one of the good years of a Strad. I was exactly like a kid with a toy he had wanted all his life. I couldn’t put the darned thing down.”
This preoccupation of Jack Benny’s with his more recent career as a concert violinist does not mean that he is less concerned with his career as a television comedian.
In the endless analysis that has gone on as to how and why Benny has maintained his position in this most mercurial of mediums, after 20 years of comparable success on the radio, it seems to me that one obvious reason has always been lightly passed over.
No matter with what he is involved, Jack has an instinctive taste for quality and perfection, a most subtle compliment to his audience. He shuns the shoddy and the second rate, wants only the best, always does his best.
Even Handful Gets His Best
There is a popular story about Benny that on one occasion he and a number of the Hollywood stars had been scheduled to appear at a benefit fund-raising drive and, due to some lack of publicity, only a handful of people showed up at a large theater.
All the other stars cut their acts to the bone, did two or three minutes and beat it. Jack Benny did the entire 15 minutes he had planned to do for a packed house. His explanation was simple.
“Why should we disappoint these people? They’re the ones who came.”
Modest Explanation
The question of how he has survived for so long a time is a question he has been asked more times than he can count. It has become a standard question and he can count on its coming up.
His own explanation is a very modest one.
He thinks that because he has established certain character traits his conceit, his stinginess, his pride in his big, blue eyes he has an easier time getting laughs than comedians who must depend always on fresh, new gags.
“I can depend on reaction to certain standard stuff and the audience almost anticipates me,” he said. “They’re so kind to me, they’re ready to laugh before I finish the line. I can jingle some change in my pocket and its good for a laugh.
“I’ve also been very lucky. I wasn’t so farsighted that twenty years ago I sat down and planned this all out. Things happened, often by accident, and we latched onto them one at a time, as they came along. My feud with Fred Allen started with one show and it got so much attention, we kept it up for years. The old Maxwell was just intended for one show and it’s still going.”
Obviously, there is no such thing as a simple analysis of anything, or of anybody. Success is a complicated business, compounded of many factor, facts and fancies, shaded and colored like a glorious rainbow.
Jack Benny has attained the kind of substantial success in his business that is comparable to a chairman of the board, or a professor emeritus. Yet he never rests on last year’s laurels, he never finds his work dull and his plans are always for the future.
“I’m so happy about the television show so far this season,” he said (7:30 p.m. this Sunday, CBS-TV). “We got off to such a good start. That’s important. Every single show can’t possibly be as good as you would like it to be, but you can’t die with each show. You have to be concerned with the shows as a series. But it was great to get off well. It’s reassuring.”
Likes Reassurance
And therein might also be a clue. Jack Benny, the master likes reassurance, even as you and I. This man, who has climbed a steep ladder and has been able to hold onto the top, is a very human guy.
He dotes on his only daughter and on his grandchildren. He likes applause and the excitement of the competitive fight. He is proud of the beautiful house where he and his wife, Mary Livingston, live in Beverly Hills, and where they are remodeling the living room so that they can show Cinemascope movies.
“It won’t surprise you,” he said, “to hear that we are not getting any younger. Mary and I have always had a lot of fun spending money and I said to her the other day, right before I came East, if there’s anything you want girl, go, go, go. Let’s enjoy it!”
Spoken like a man who owns a Stradivarius, but he’d better watch that talk or those chains clanking while Benny makes his way to the money vault will have to go, go, go.

Saturday, 18 April 2020

In Defence of Bela (Maybe)

It is without fear of contradiction that we stand before you and state that the most cringe-inducing movie posters of all time were the ones to promote MGM cartoons in the early part of the ‘40s.

Look to the right, if you dare. Would this prompt you to rush to your neighbourhood theatre and see these characters in action? Mind you, you wouldn’t see these particular characters. The ones on the one-sheet are so poorly drawn, any resemblance between them and the finely-honed designs on film by the Hanna-Barbera unit is purely coincidental.

Some time ago, the Cartoon Research website featured a post highlighting this nadir in the art world. In the comments, the late Cole Johnson identified the artist as New York-based Bela Reiger.

But hold on a minute!

To the left you see part of a poster re-produced in the May-June 1939 edition of the MGM house publication “Short Story.” The identity of the artist is identified in an article. And it’s not Bela Reiger.

Here’s what the publication had to say:
TO AID THEATREMEN in publicizing the new Technicolor cartoon series produced by Hugh Harman and Rudolph Ising, M-G-M has obtained the services of the celebrated illustrator, Charles "Call Me Chuck" Mulholland who will do a special one-sheet poster on each release. His multi-color lithograph poster on the current release, "Art Gallery," as reproduced above, is now available at all Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Exchanges.

One of today's top-ranking illustrators, Mulholland hails from the wilds of Minnesota where, by his own admission, in spite of the art schools a prodigious native indolence protected him against the common or garden variety of provincial art.

Migrating ultimately to New York City he soon discovered that even Greenwich Village bohemians had to eat. So, totally innocent of the technique of lettering or the intricacies of mathematics he got a job teaching lettering and math in an institution for deaf mutes. During this period he picked up an interest in these two subjects which endures today. He has no idea, however, what the deaf mutes picked up.

After his pedagogic instincts were satiated Mulholland turned to newspaper and magazine illustration work. He did caricatures for the old New York World and then moved over to the Post as theatrical caricaturist for John Anderson. Subsequently he has illustrated for Cosmopolitan, Colliers, Good Housekeeping, Pictorial Review, Delineator, Life, This Week and for Manhattan's leading advertising agencies.
There’s not much else to tell you about Charles Joseph Mulholland. He was born July 30, 1900 in Minneapolis and attending the Minneapolis School of Art when he was drafted in 1917. By 1920 he was a designer for a bag company, then moved to New York within the next five years. He died in Manhattan on September 3, 1960. His wife Juliet was a book and magazine illustrator and researched antiques after her husband died.

So who do we blame for the graphic monstrosities with misshapen, disproportionate characters that advertised MGM cartoons? Has Bela Reiger been blamed unfairly all this time?

I don’t have the answer. I do know the posters are pretty ugly but, fortunately, never took away from the enjoyment of any cartoons.

Friday, 17 April 2020

Gene Deitch and Cartoon Salesmen

Gene Deitch won an Oscar, received tributes of his work at the Museum of Modern Art in New York and ASIFA in Los Angeles, and has been praised for his adaptations of numerous children’s books animated in Communist Czechoslovakia. But perhaps he’ll be best known for a handful of Tom and Jerry cartoons that make some people want to bang their head against an iron curtain.

And that’s not quite fair.

Gene Deitch has passed away at the age of 95.

Deitch arrived in the sphere of theatrical cartoons because of his work in television. Animated commercials were hot in the 1950s. Artists who had been around for years joined newcomers in exercising their creativity in giving birth to 30 and 60-second cartoons that had a different look and sound—but were still entertaining. Deitch was one of the newcomers and he was quickly written up in trade publications (being part of the critically-loved UPA studio didn’t hurt). At the time, CBS figured it should do something with its newly-acquired Terrytoons studio besides broadcast old cartoons—something like get into the lucrative commercial animation business. So it was that Deitch was plucked from Robert Lawrence Productions in July 1956 to become creative producer at Terrytoons. Once again, Deitch proceeded to give birth to cartoons that had a different look and sound than what Terrytoons had been pumping out.

There were some high points. His Tom Terrific cartoon serial that CBS plopped down on Captain Kangaroo was praised by parents groups everywhere for entertaining kids without all that “violence” found in the old movie shorts. It was inventive and droll. And as opposed to heroic characters for the ‘40s like Mighty Mouse, Popeye or Bugs Bunny, Deitch and his staff came up with flawed stars for the ‘50s, like the grumpy Clint Clobber the janitor and the neurotic Sidney the elephant. Unfortunately for Deitch, studio politics were thick and he found himself at a decided disadvantage. Deitch moved out in August 1958 and set up his own company. Within a few years, he had been hired by Bill Snyder, won an Oscar for a clever cartoon called Munro, dispatched to Prague to revive the award-winning antics of Tom and Jerry, fell in love, and stayed.

Instead of his work overseas, let’s have Mr. Deitch himself talk about the earlier phase of his career, the golden era of animated TV spots. He was asked to write about using cartoons as sales tools in the July 1, 1957 edition of Billboard magazine. Here’s what he said:

How to Spice Up the Com'l Break With Extra Hard Sell
By GENE DEITCH

Creative Director, Terrytoons
(The writer of this article is one of the bright young lights of the bright new era of animation. He was with UPA when Bert and Harry were created and had a hand in the original drawings. When John Hubley set up his own Storyboard operation, Deitch went with him. He then went to Robert Lawrence Productions. When Terrytoons was bought by CBS and entered the commercial field, Deitch joined it as creative director.)
If an advertiser can produce a smile on the consumers face and an image of his brand in the consumer's mind—at one and the same time—then, by gum, he has a nice little thing going for himself. Chances are the consumer will buy, consume and (if the product is good) buy again—regularly.
One way to achieve this happy juxtaposition is with the continuous cartoon salesman. The cartoon character, if handled honestly, can get thin the wall every TV watcher erects during commercial periods. A cartoon conies on as a bit of spice in a movie program and can be just as tasty on TV. If you give the viewer something — namely a little entertainment and the feeling you are 'leveling" with him—then he might feel like giving you something: His patronage.
A cartoon character can somehow project this honesty and good humor where a live announcer might not. For the true cartoon character, altho frankly a fantasy, is a caricature of reality that can be accepted as reality. The "real live" pitchman is publicly known to be a hired salesman, the people in live commercials are obviously actors, the ball players are paid for their testimonials—and up goes the wall between you and the consumer. But the cartoon character can leap over the wall, uttering hard-sell copy (while appearing to kid it) that a "live" commercial would have trouble in delivering convincingly.
A good cartoon character must personify the product. If he is unique and well liked, people will feel the product is also unique and will want to buy it. To be most effective the cartoon salesman must be a product identifier. As soon as the viewer sees the character on the screen, he should identify the product brand. Secondly, the viewer should look forward to more than just a sales pitch. Unusual animation and clever design are not enough. An animated figure becomes a "character" only when he has definite acceptable characteristics other than merely visual. Where does he come from? Who does he represent? What are his attitudes? How does he react to certain situations? Does he mean what he says? Is he a "real guy?"
A cartoon character becomes salesman when he represents the product in name, in quality and in purpose. A dancing cereal box or bouncing can of dog food does not necessarily present a sales message sage. Nor does a frolicsome fairy or merry jinnee relate to a real-life product. The character can be animal or human, but whatever specie, he must have personality depth. If the audience is to believe, he character must relate to contemporary experience in speech and action. To create a cartoon salesman, analyze your product. Is there a theme for the character to stand for? A well-known slogan, a visual device, ingredient, quality? Can the name of the product be name of the character? (that is usually best.) When you decide upon the character idea, build a background -make him real. He must be sincere and convincing but still unrestrained.
There is no need to to compromise. You are now in the world of fantasy. Be willing to kid yourself and the product a little to put yourself on-the-level with the viewer. Make yourself likable.
By developing his own character, a client benefits. He has property with the inherent quality of his product, an advertising campaign that has wearing ability. With each new story situation, a cartoon salesman grows in acceptance.
To use a character that has already been established in another medium is the animated version of testimonial advertising. In such a case, the cartoon salesman may tend to dominate the product. As a selling tool, he may not hate the "memory value" associated with an original product identifier. However, there is no denying the tremendous loyalty a hero like Mighty Mouse can generate with children.
For the film producer and the advertising agency, the cartoon salesman can be the perfect employee. He is not being paid to drink soda pop or shave his beard. He honestly typifies the product. He is ageless, sitting on the drawing board, ready to go to work at any time, never asking for a raise.
Being always available has many technical assets, too. Once the design of the salesman has formulated and his pattern of behavior charted, any animated film company can take the blueprints and produce a commercial. One series of spots featuring the cartoon star can be produced by one film company and another series can be produced by a completely different studio, with no apparent variation in the total effect. Just as comic strips, thru the years, have been drawn by a series of artists with no noticeable change to the reader, the same is true of an established television commercial property.
The cartoon character exists apart from the animator and the actor. Eton the voice can be imitated.
With cartoon salesman, the client is never troubled with props, costumes or location spots. The settings for commercial stories are unending.
Terrytoons, well-known for thirty years as a theatrical cartoon company, has only been in the business of the animated cartoon commercial for one year. However, the studio has already been involved with three cartoon salesmen -P. J. Tootsie and Bert and Harry Piel.
P.J. Tootsie, the Candy King, was created by Terrytoons to sell Tootsie Rolls for Sweets Company of America. The campaign of three one-minute spots was directed mainly to children. According to an independent survey of youngsters, the commercials rated as high as the entertainment on the same program. Mr. Tootsie was quickly identified as "The Candy King."
The flamboyant executive, P. J. Tootsie, is intent on selling his product in each spot. His techniques are so exaggerated that they amusingly spoof the sales attitude of an advertising executive. Everytime P. J. Tootsie repeats the slogan, "Everybody loves me, because I make Tootsie Rolls," he gets a firm plug for his product.


Deitch’s reference to Mighty Mouse is ironic, considering he banished the ripped rodent from the big screen in favour of his own “up-to-date” characters.

And Deitch’s assessment that “unusual animation and clever design are not enough” was something the people he left behind at UPA didn’t quite realise, contributing to the studio’s demise.

Until days ago, he was chatting away with animation lovers on Facebook, posting pictures of the changing seasons in the neighbourhood behind his home and coping with being stuck indoors because of the present worldwide health emergency. He maintained humour and friendliness to the end, even to those who didn’t think much of his work about 60 years ago with a cat and mouse.

Rest in peace, Gene.

Jitterbug Tommy

Little Tommy Tucker is a brat in Jitterbug Follies, a 1939 MGM cartoon, one of two concocted by Milt Gross during his brief time at the studio. Mother Goose (who is a showgirl in disguise) sings about how the jitterbug infected people: “Tommy Tucker got bit, too, singing for his bowl of stew.”

Tommy growls in song at a theatre audience: “Darling, I am growing hun-gry.”



The audience pelts him with food, like a lousy vaudeville act. Whoever animated this provides some fun expressions.



But Tommy’s hep to the jive! He’s keen to the scene! He rips a pair of drumsticks off a turkey thrown at him and starts playing the produce tossed at him like drums.



One last pumpkin comes flying toward him. He smashes it like bass drum. Scott Bradley has all kinds of percussion sounds playing in the background.



Gross fan afoul of politics and was quickly shown the door. History claims someone at MGM thought this rowdy cartoon was “beneath the dignity” of the prestigious studio. Within a year, MGM told Hugh Harman to start making rowdier cartoons, like the ones released by Warner Bros. Or like this one. Go figure.

Thursday, 16 April 2020

Standard Avery Gag No. 153

“Interesting to behold is the evolution of the tropical butterfly,” narrator Robert C. Bruce tells us in Aviation Vacation (1941). “Let’s watch this curious transformation, as from this lowly, insignificant little cocoon emerges a full-grown butterfly, vividly marked with all the gorgeous colours of the rainbow.”

Well, there would be gorgeous colours if this cartoon had been restored. Instead, we get lots of green and faded hues. Regardless, that doesn’t affect the gag, which is one of Tex Avery’s standards.

First butterfly.



Second butterfly.



Third butterfly. Well, sort of.





Cut to a close shot of the shaking, bloodshot-eyed insect. “Say! What in the world happened to you?” asks the narrator. Avery fans can shout the answer at the screen: “Well, I’ve been sick.”

This cartoon leaves you with the feeling that Avery had some gags left over from some of his other travelogue parodies and shoved them in here. There isn’t a lot to do with aviation in this one.

Dave Monahan got credit for the gags, Sid Sutherland for animation (Virgil Ross and Bob McKimson are here, too) and Johnny Johnsen supplied the greenery.