Lovelorn Fish

The cartoon may be called Jolly Fish, but an amorous fish makes an appearance at the start of this 1932 Van Beuren short. He cozies up to Jerry, who shakes his head and shoves the fish away. I love the plus signs in the eyes; old comic strips used to do that sort thing.



Now the fish is angry. He develops feet and hands. He walks on water, chasing after Tom and Jerry’s boat, which contracts.



Both Tom and Jerry bash the fish unconscious with their oars.



In true lackadaisical Van Beuren style, the action lines remain on the screen for a couple of seconds when there is no action.



John Foster and George Stallings get the “by” credit.

Gene Rodemich believed in setting moods with music, not necessarily scoring to the action. The song that plays during most of the cartoon is “By a Rippling Stream.” Thanks to Milt Knight for the ID. You can hear a nice version below.

Ga-Ga For Gomez

John Astin walked away from the failure of the sitcom I’m Dickens, He’s Fenster without any damage. After a year off, he was given the role of Gomez in The Addams Family in 1964.

The show was derived from the single-panel cartoons of Charles Addams that portrayed a group of people who revelled in ghoulishness in an irreverent sort of way. Trying to translate that kind of humour into a half-hour TV sitcom was impossible. So, instead, the series shot off in other directions while still keeping an air of being off-beat.

The Addams Family lasted only two seasons in prime time on ABC but had the same good fortune that a number of used comedies had back in that day—it went into endless daytime reruns and its popularity grew and grew.

Astin enjoyed the role, as we can gather from newspaper interviews of the time. We’ll reprint two below. The first appeared in papers on June 22, 1964, the second on November 2, 1964. Both compare the show with The Munsters. In interviews years later, Astin insisted the shows weren’t the same at all. Both dealt with the macabre in a comic way, but the Munster family couldn’t understand why they were considered different while the Addamses just didn’t care. They went on living their lives.

The Addams Family' May Slay TV Viewers
By HAL HUMPHREY
HOLLYWOOD — Editors of the New Yorker magazine may get a little upset to learn that David Levy, who is producing a new TV series based on the Charles Addams cartoons, believes the Addams wit and audiences not irreconcilable.
"If Addams was not under contract to the New Yorker," says producer Levy, "TV Guide or some other mass circulation magazine would snap him up.
"You should have seen what happened when we showed the pilot film of 'The Addams Family' at the National Association of Broadcasters convention last spring. "And when ABC had the film pre-tested before an audience, the network executives couldn't believe the results. They thought there must have been some mistake," continues Levy, warming to his subject.
• • •
"We showed it to three of Addams' attorneys, who sat as if they were on the Supreme Court, but they began to fall down within three minutes after the film began to unroll."

Addams was in the room, too, at that time. According to Levy, the only sounds he heard emanating from Addams were "strange ones."
"They were really sounds of approval, though," Levy adds, hastily. "And one of the attorneys, a woman, said afterward to Addams, 'He is much more Addams-like than you are.'
"She was referring to John Astin, who plays Gomez. He really moved them. Addams did say later he liked the music, and of Carolyn Jones — she plays Morticia — he said, 'Enchanting!'"
Despite all of this praise, Levy is playing it cautious with the TV critics and refuses to show the pilot to them prior to airtime next September.
HE CAN hardly be blamed for playing it cool. It has been more than two years since Levy phoned Addams to open negotiations.
"We had cocktails at the Plaza in New York and discovered we both had roots there. I knew Addams had turned down other TV offers, but I believe he warmed up when I told him I did not read the New Yorker stories, only the cartoons.
"It took a year from that day just for the attorneys to do the paperwork involved, and it was largely Addams and hit attorneys' paper."
Addams also had to approve the cast which Levy came up to fit the characters most prominent in Addams' murky and macabre world. Besides Carolyn Jones and John Astin, there is a six-toot-nine giant named Ted Cassidy who will do his first acting as "Lurch." Six other characters will be used more or less frequently.
Levy made a deal with the Filmways company, the same studio which turns out "Beverly Hillbillies," "Petticoat Junction" and "Mr. Ed." If Addams is acquainted with any of those series, he might be experiencing some apprehension at this point over how his brain-children will thrive in such a climate.
• • •
LEVY DOES grant that any writer assigned to "The Addams Family" TV series will need "far more imaginative gifts than those turning out ordinary situation comedy."
"We will be telling the TV audience, too, that these are not the neighbors next door," says Levy.
Meanwhile, over at CBS, a Thursday night time spot is being cleared for what the network is heralding as a completely new idea in situation comedy — The Munsters — which dealt with a 'normal' American family whose physical characteristics are reminiscent of such famous movie monsters at Frankenstein's creation, Dracula and a lady vampire."
The Addams attorneys may discover their TV work is not finished yet.

John Astin 'Arrives' In Series
By CHARLES WITBECK
HOLLYWOOD — It must be nice to be independently wealthy, madly in love with your wife and serene enough to enjoy your children and relatives talking and playing together in the living room.
This happy home time occurs every Friday night at ABC's reverse joke series, "The Addams Family," where the sweet things in lite are pet spiders, poison ivy and a hangman's noose.
The head of the house, nonconformist Gomez Addams — addicted to cigars, double-breasted chalk striped suits and blowing up toy trains — walks about with feet wide apart, full of good cheer. He is a happy man and so far has never been seen in a downcast mood. Life is very good to Gomez.
Actor John Astin, formerly seen as a carpenter in "The I'm Dickens . . . He's Fenster" series, was the first person cast in the series, derived from Charles Addams' New Yorker cartoons, and he has given a good deal of serious thought to Gomez.
"We did a number of tests without makeup," says John. "And some felt I was too straight. There was a suggestion to do odd things with the eyes, but we stopped that."
Astin, a talented, serious New York actor, leaning towards the works of Samuel Beckett, and who once produced Christopher Fry's "A Sleep of Prisoners," written to be performed in a church, plays Gomez in an expansive mood.

"You can tell about Gomez from the way he walks," he says. "The legs shoot out. And when he stands the feet are far apart, like a cigar smoking New York businessman, only Gomez is a successful nonconformist. This can't simply be a reverse joke show. We have to affirm our position."
So far the series does rely on the reverse joke and the kids don't seem to mind at all. The cartoon characters on TV are sweet and a big hit among the young viewers whose after school television chatter revolves mostly around "The Addams Family" and "The Munsters."
Both series could be written by the same people in that both emphasize a close family life, sight gags galore and reverse jokes. Their viewpoints are remarkably similar.
'Attack Objects'
Pushing the nonconformist line, Astin says, "We attack objects, not people. We know we're different and we feel others are not as fortunate as we are. And when we take out our aggressions, no guilt is involved."
"The Addams Family" and "The Munsters" take great care to stress a happy home life. "These are good people" is implied in every line. Now this wasn't the case in all Addams cartoons "Many suggested violence," admits Astin. "and it wasn't necessary for Addams to follow up. Cartoons don't have to answer any question, but we do in 26 minutes."
Astin was an Addams fan before he joined the cast and enjoyed the marvelous poetic expressions on the characters while performing some weird deed. "I remember one cartoon where the butler poured hot oil over Christmas trees and he positively beams," says Astin, "but we can't do things like that."
With the role of Gomez, Astin has quickly erased his former image of the carpenter who played straight man on the "I'm Dickens-Fenster" series. There were times when Astin toyed with the idea of changing his name to Harry Dickens, after being stopped by fans who ask whether John is Fickens or Denster. "I'm John Astin," he would say politely. "Oh, yes, you're Dick Fenster," would be the reply.
'More Opportunity'
"People don't know I've done serious things," says Astin with downcast eyes. "In New York I was known as very strong for art for art's sake plays." Now that Astin is a TV figure living in Southern California, some of his theater associates accuse him of selling out.
"I've had more opportunity here," says Astin, whose Fry play ran one performance in New York's Phoenix Theater. "I say art is where you make it. I intend to do my little art film and it won't matter where I am."
He rolled his eyes, twisted his mouth, threw back his head and there was Gomez, a happy man.

Astin went on to an ill-advised appearance on Batman before creating the wonderfully semi-hinged Buddy Ryan on Night Court in the ‘80s. But, I suspect, for many, he’ll always be Gomez Addams.

Wise Quacking Smears

Lots of smears in Bob Clampett’s The Wise Quacking Duck (released in 1943).



This scene has some great, wide-open-mouthed Daffy Duck drawings as he yells and shouts.

Phil Monroe received the rotating animation credit on this one.

Subduing Sammy

Screwy Squirrel wants to let us in on a secret about how he tricked Meathead all though the cartoon. A second Screwy jumps into the frame. “We was twins all the time,” he tells us.



Tex Avery used the “multiples to outsmart” gag to end cartoons before this, going back to Tortoise Beats Hare (1941) at Warner Bros. But, despite the dialogue and what sounds like cartoon-ending fanfare, Avery surprises us. The short’s not done.

A second Meathead appears and says “So was we.”



But it’s not over yet. Avery and gagman Heck Allen take us back to the beginning of the cartoon when Sammy Squirrel skipped along looking as Disney-esque as possible. “My cartoon would have been cuter,” he joyously declares.



“Oh, brother, not that!” Exclaim the Screwys and Meatheads, who pounce on saccharine Sammy to end the cartoon.



Ed Love, Preston Blair and Ray Abrams animated Screwball Squirrel, Screwy’s 1944 debut.

The Benny-Allen Feud Ends (For Now)

Two people born several months apart and worked, for much of the time, on opposite parts of the U.S. are together entwined in the minds of radio comedy fans.

Ex-vaudevillians Jack Benny and Fred Allen fell into a fake argument on the air, which carried through network radio years and into television, when Allen’s career had quite drastically fallen from his peak in the late ‘40s.

The feud began in late 1936 and was supposedly brought to an end a few months later. But radio knows a good thing when it sees one, and the feud was revived a couple of years later, and even transferred to the big screen in a tough-to-stomach movie called Love Thy Neighbor.

When Benny changed writers during the war, the feud improved tremendously. Jack’s barbs at Allen became far cleverer, Allen responded with the memorable “King For a Day” episode, and the radio side of the feud concluded with a 1953 Benny broadcast from San Francisco with a wonderful premise—instead of enemies, Benny and Allen were friends and vaudeville partners willing to undercut each other for a job.

The first round of the feud ended on March 14, 1937. Soon thereafter the Boston Post devoted three Sunday sections in a row to the Allen-Benny relationship. Below is the third part of the series, published April 11, 1937. Kathy Fuller Seeley, who is probably the best Benny historical scholar around today, went through the Allen archives at the Boston Public Library and is responsible for this post. The articles were taken with a cell phone camera in 2004 from a scrapbook shot at an angle, so the photos below aren’t the greatest.

I presume the fragment of the script comes from the East Coast version of the broadcast. The version of the programme in circulation has some differences in the script, even the song Abe Lyman plays is different, and ends with the NBC ID played on the old Deagan dinner chimes, which were still being used at KFI in Los Angeles at the time. The oddest thing in this version of the script is the concept of a Jew meeting St. Peter.

Here! Laugh Once Again at Radio’s Funniest Skit Broadcast
Experts Call Closing Episode of Jack Benny-Fred Allen Feud “Tops” in Humor—Why the Quarrel Was Terminated
BY JOHN F. COGGSWELL

“It must be easy for you and Fred Allen to work up funny situations that are good for laughs week after week,” I remarked to Jack Benny, all the time knowing that it isn’t.
“Huh? What’s that? How did you ever get that idea?” he demanded.
“Well, there you had your feud with Fred, going strong, laying your studio audience in the aisles and knocking the radio fans off their chairs, sure-fire, knockout stuff, good almost indefinitely and, suddenly, the two of you patch up the quarrel when it was good for laughs for at least three months longer.”
“I’ll tell you about that,” Jack offered. “I guess you’re right; the good old feud could have been made funny for a long time yet, probably would have been if I had stayed out in Hollywood and Fred in New York.
“But I had been planning and looking forward to this trip to the big town, too long to put it off. I was hungry to see a good show and dying for a good cup of coffee.”
“Coffee? If you couldn’t get a good cup of it at home, why didn’t you step out to a restaurant?” I wondered.
“Just can get coffee to suit me in Los Angeles, home or restaurant,” he insisted. “But you can get the best cup of coffee in the world in New York; never had a poor cup here.”
Why Feud Was Ended
Well, he ought to know. While he was talking he was sipping his third cup,taking it black. But that didn’t explain why the boys brought the feud to an end, when it had many more laughs left in it.
“Well, here I was in New York and the feud was still raging,” the man from Waukegan went ahead with the explanation. “Both of us knew we have to be in the same town when we ended the feud, if we wanted to develop the situation to the utmost.
“Here we were together and didn’t know exactly when Fred would be out in Hollywood to make his picture, or I’d be back in New York and whether or not the gag would hold up that long? So we decided to call the feud off.”
Maybe that was all for the best. Certainly, there was something of a bang to bringing the gag to a close while interest was at white heat; when the mere mention of “The Bee” was good for a laugh anywhere. Anyway, the scene that silenced the pistols of the Bennys and the Allens is rated by radio experts as the funniest that ever went out over the ether waves.
Remember? The Jello programme is in full swing. Jack is just finishing singing a song and Jack’s singing is funny by itself any time. There comes a loud knock on the studio door and Mary Livingstone calls “Come in!” The door bangs open and in strides Fred Allen, while all the members of the company—Mary, Kenny Baker, Abe Lyman, the orchestra leader; Sam Schlepperman, Don Wilson and the rest exclaim as though covered with consternation, “Fred Allen.”
Anyway, that was the way it sounded over the radio. For the benefit of listeners who have never had the fun of being in a studio and seeing a big programme put on, it should be noted that Fred was right there all the time, sitting on the stage awaiting his cue. He didn’t come in any door; simply stepped to the microphone at the proper moment. The sound effects man did the knocking and opened and closed a “prop” door.
“Hey, what’s going on here? What’s going on here?” Allen opened. “If it’s a fog horn, and I think it is, it should never have been given shore leave.” Let the script of radio’s acknowledged funniest scene take it from there:



“Boo” Allen Enters
JACK: Well, as I live and regret there are no locks on studio doors . . . if it isn’t Boo Allen! . . . Now listen Allen, what’s the idea of breaking in here in the middle of my singing?
ALLEN: Singing? Well, I didn’t mine when you scraped your violin and called it “The Bee” . . . but when you set that group to music and call it singing . . . Benny, you’ve gone too far.
JACK: Oh, so you don’t like it, huh?
ALLEN: Like it! . . . Why you make Andy Devine sound like Lawrence Tibbett.
JACK: Now look here, Allen. I don’t care what you say about my singing or my violin playing on your own programme, but when you come up here . . . be careful. After all, I’ve got listeners.
ALLEN: Keep your family out of this.
JACK: Well, my family likes my singing . . . and my violin playing.
ALLEN: Your violin playing! Why I just heard that a horse committed suicide when he found out your violin bow was made from his tail.
JACK: Hm! Well, listen to me, you Wednesday night Hawk . . . another crack like that and Town Hall will be looking for a new janitor.
ALLEN: Why, you fugitive from a Ripley cartoon . . . you lay a hand on me and you’ll be hollering strawberry, raspberry, cherry, orange, lemon and HELP.
JACK—Ho-ho, listen to that Smile of Beauty . . . Keep this up, Allen, and I’ll ask Don Wilson to FALL on you . . . And if Wilson falls on you, you know what that means.
MARY—OH BOY, PRESSED HAM!
JACK—Atta girl, Mary, that’s a honey.
MARY—Quiet, coward.
JACK—Coward!?
ALLEN—Yes, and she doesn’t mean that English entertainer.
Allen Makes Threat
JACK—Now listen Allen, I’m up here attending to my own business and this is no place to settle our private affairs. How did you get in here without a pass?
ALLEN—I made one at the doorman and YOU’RE next.
JACK—Oh I am, eh?
SAM SCHLEPPERMAN—Gentlemen, gentlemen, don’t fight here. Why don’t you go over to Madison Square Garden?
ALLEN—You keep out of this, you little squirt, or you’ll be getting your matzohs from Saint Peter.
SAM—Good-bye, Jackie-boy, take it heazy.
(DOOR SLAMS)
JACK—There goes Schlepperman, and I wish you’d follow him out.
ALLEN—Listen Cowboy, why didn’t you stay out in Hollywood where you don’t belong?
JACK—Because I heard you were coming out there to make a picture, that’s why. . . . You ought to do very well, Mr. Allen, now that Boris Karloff is in England.
ALLEN—Well I saw YOUR last picture. And maybe you didn’t start Bank Night but you certainly kept it going.
JACK—Oh yeah? Well three States are waiting for YOUR picture to be released. They’re going to use it instead of capital punishment. . . . Wow!
ABE LYMAN—That’s telling him, Jack.
ALLEN—Who’s that guy?
MARY—Sic ‘em, Lyman.
Allen, “the Great Lover”
JACK—Hm, look what’s going to make a picture . . . Fred Allen, the Great Lover! I suppose Gable and Taylor are losing a lot of sleep right now.
ALLEN—Not if they’re listening to this broadcast.
JACK—Oh, what a witty retort. . . . Where are you going to live in Hollywood, Mr. Allen . . . At the Ostrich Farm?
ALLEN—I may.
MARY—(STARTS TO LAUGH.)
JACK—What are you laughing at, Mary?
MARY—He’ll show those birds how to lay eggs.
JACK—Mary, that was marvelous. I’m gonna kiss you for that.
MARY—Then I take it back.
JACK—Oh, you do.
ALLEN—She’d RATHER kiss an ostrich.
JACK—Well, Allen, that’s going a little too far. I didn’t mind a little mud-slinging now and then but when you make those kind of remarks, it means FIGHT where I come from.

ALLEN—You mean your blood would boil if you had any?
JACK—Yea, and I’ve got just enough to resent that. . . . Mr. Allen, I come from the West. I’m a hard-ridin’, two-fisted he-man . . . and if you’ll step out into the hallway, I’m ready to settle this little affair man to man.
ALLEN-You are, eh?
JACK—Yeah.
ALLEN—(mimicking Jack)—This will be the last number of the last programme of any Jello series—
MARY—NEXT WEEEK THE JELLO PROGRAMME STARRING MARY LIVINGSTONE!
JACK—Come on, Allen, do you wanna go through with this?
ALLEN—I didn’t come here for your autograph.
Last Chance to Apologize
JACK—Now listen, Allen, I’ll give you just one more chance to apologize.
ALLEN—Apologize? Why I’ll knock you flatter than the first minutes of this programme.
MARY—Hold on there, Allen! Whoever touches a hair on Jack’s gray head has to find it first.
JACK—Who said that?
MARY—Barbara Livingstone.
JACK—Never mind that. . . . Come on, Allen, let us away. Play, Lyman! Hm, I’m sorry now I sold my rowing machine.
Over the radio we heard Fred and Jack stomping out of the studio as the orchestra started to play. Of course, they didn’t do anything of the sort. Jack, undoubtedly, sat down and took it easy, right beside his “mike.” But it Fred Allen comported himself as he does during his own programme, he didn’t sit; he wandered all over the stage. Back to the script:
At Each Other’s Throats
WILSON—That was “Love and Learn” played by the orchestra, with Abe Lyman at the baton, and Benny and Allen at each other’s throats in the hallway.
MARY—And the winner will tell his version on his own programme next Wednesday night.
WILSON—Oh, I don’t know. Jack can take care of himself.
ABE—It’s Allen he has to worry about.
MARY—Gee, I hope nothing’s happened to either one of them . . . especially Jack.
WILSON—They’re both pretty husky, although Jack looked kind of worried.
MARY—Oh, he doesn’t care whether he wins or not, he was going to take a vacation anyway.
(Very heavy footsteps approaching.)
MARY—Sh, here they come now.
(Door opens.)
JACK & ALLEN—(Enter, laughing to beat the band.)
JACK—Ha, ha, ha! Gosh, Freddie, those were the days, weren’t they?
ALLEN—Yes, sir! Remember that time in Toledo when you walked into the magician’s dressing-room and stole his pigeons?
JACK—Do I! They tasted pretty good, didn’t they, Freddie.
ALLEN—You said it, Jack.
JACK—And remember the guy in the show with us who used to take in washing on the side? You know, the guy that did our laundry?
ALLEN—Say, what’s Ben Bernie doing now?
JACK—He’s got a band. Ben Bernie and all the Suds.
BOTH—(LAUGH TO BEAT THE BAND).
JACK—We didn’t make much money in those days, Freddie, but we DID get a lot of laughs.
ALLEN—We certainly did . . . until we walked on the stage.
BOTH—(LAUGH AGAIN).
MARY—Say, Jack.
JACK—Yes, Mary.
MARY—What happened to the fight?
JACK—What fight? Say, Freddie, remember that time in South Bend, Indiana, when you were going with Portland and I—
Feud Never Serious
WILSON—Hey, no kidding fellows, what happened to that fight?
JACK—Why, Don, we were never serious about that.
MARY—Then how did you get that black eye?
JACK—Oh, this? Well, I was writing a letter.
ALLEN—And I dotted his eye.
JACK—Now wait a minute, Freddie. I slapped you more than you did me. Look at your wrist, it’s all red.
ALLEN—Well, I made you say uncle when I pulled your hair.
JACK—Uncle isn’t the word, but let it go.
WILSON—Say Fred, here’s a package you dropped on your way out to the hall.
ALLEN—Oh, yes, that’s a box of candy I was gonna give Jack.
ALLEN—Oh, Freddie!
MARY—Candy! Can I have a piece?
ALLEN—Sure, but take the SQUARE ONES, Mary, they’re not poison.
JACK—Hm, I see. . . . And by the way, Freddie, when you get home, if that box of flowers I sent you is still ticking . . . just put it in water.
ALLEN—I will, and thanks for the tip.
MARY—Gee, this candy is swell . . . have a piece, Jack?
JACK—Mmm! . . . Say, this is good chocolate, wonderful flavor. . . . What’s it filled with, Freddie?
ALLEN—Ipana.
JACK—Oh! Well, I was going to brush my teeth anyway.
ALLEN—Well, Jack, I’ve got to go now. I have a lot of work to do on my own programme.
Thanks for Apology
JACK—Okay, Freddie. Well, thanks for your kind visit and apology.
ALLEN—What apology?
JACK—Never mind, let’s not start that again. . . . Before you go, Fred, I want to tell you I didn’t mind one thing you said about me during our feud.
ALLEN—Well, I’ve gotta leave you now. . . . Oh, by the way, Mr. Lyman!
ABE—Yes, Fred.
ALLEN—You lay offa my pal, Jack Benny, that’s all. . . . Goodbye everybody.
CROWD—Goodbye.
JACK—So long, Freddie.
CROWD—(APPLAUD).
JACK—Play, Lyman! And watch your step, you heard what Freddie said.
ABE—Why you little sawed-off punk, I’ll take you and tear you limb from limb!
JACK—Oh Freddie! Freddie! FREDDIE! FREDDIE!
And so, ladies and gentlemen of the radio audience, with Jack Benny apparently rushing from the stage to bring back his new-found pal to protect him from the orchestra leader, ended the famour Jack Benny-Fred Allen feud.

Not Just Mickey

For years, it seemed animation history began and ended with Walt Disney. Thankfully, fans with an historical bent came along to flesh out things in writing so, today, there are seemingly endless sources to learn about animation’s past.

Occasionally, one could find articles in the press about studios other than Disney, or even a brief overview of theatrical animation history. That’s the case with the story below, published in the Austin American of January 8, 1940.

The source material may have come from a Paramount news release, as several random paragraphs deal with the studio, which had just released the Fleischers’ Gulliver’s Travels. Colvig’s cartoon referred to in the story couldn’t have been very well known. I’m a little confused by the reference to Gertie being a “giggling” dinosaur; she displayed a range of emotions in the cartoon and giggling didn’t dominate.

Interestingly, the story refers to Celebrity Productions, Pat Powers’ company, which I don’t believe was releasing new cartoons. Audio Productions and John McCrory were industrial studios, while there is next to no information about Albert Paganelli, who provided titles at one time.

The writer was, at the time of this story, a journalism student at the University of Texas. Boyd Sinclair served in the China-Burma-India theatre during the war and wrote a book about an incident that took place there in 1943. He made the military his life and died in 1990.

Animation Was Here Long Before Jitterbugs; First There Was 'Gertie, the Giggling Dinosaur'
By BOYD SINCLAIR

The showing of “Gulliver's Travels,” the feature-length animated cartoon, is a reminder that the animated cartoon was here three decades ago. It was over thirty years ago that several men gathered in a projection room to watch drawings on a screen that seemed to move.
The first animator of drawn figures was Winsor McCay, and his first animated cartoon was the one that was watched by the group of men around the ancient projection machine. The title of that cartoon was "Gertie, the Giggling Dinosaur." Gertie's actions looked like a cross between a seismograph needle's marks in a violent earthquake and a pencil and a pencil pusher with delirium tremens in the Eversharp factory, but the lines wiggled anyway. After that private screening, Mr. McCay was called an impractical dreamer with wide-eyed delusions and fantastic ideas. Mr. McCay gave vent to prophecies that are today realities in such films as "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs," "Gulliver's Travels," "Pinnocchio," [sic] "Relativity," and "Darwin's Theory of Evolution," the latter being two full-length cartoons that the public has heard little about. “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” returned to Walt Disney's enterprises around $8,000,000.
Animators Plentiful
In the production of animated cartoons today there are over a dozen organisations, over which the Disney enterprises without a doubt dominate. Disney has studios in Los Angeles, New York and London. Hugh Harmon [sic] and Rudolph Ising produce cartoons for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in California. Also in production of drawings in motion in the City of the Angels are Walter Lantz, creator of Oswald the Rabbit; Charles B. Mintz; Leon Schlesinger, creator of Porky Pig; and Animated Pictures Corp., Ltd., the president of this concern, U. B. Iwerks, being the creator of Flip the Frog.
The producers of “Gulliver's Travels,” Max and Dave Fleischer, work in Miami, Fla. Their chief contributions to animated cartoon art have been Popeye the Sailor and Betty Boop. Paul Terry, creator of the Terrytoons, has his studio in New Rochelle, N.Y., and in New York city are Audio Productions, Celebrity Productions, John McCrory Productions, and Albert Paganelli.
Disney has led the cartoon field in the creation of genuine character with his cartoons and his definite superiority in animation, with the smoothness of his moving figures, and his deftness with beauty as well as caricature, together with the human traits he has traced into his characters. He got his idea of Mickey Mouse from a small rodent that used to play on his drawing board when he was a struggling art student.
The Fleischers have achieved more with steroptics and depth, and with the advent of “Gulliver's Travels” they have increased the number of moving figures in single scenes far beyond what has been achieved heretofore. Limitation upon caricatures in the past have been set because of the vast and Herculean work of animating so many figures.

About the first cartoon character to live his jerky life for any length of time on the screen was Colonel Hezliar [sic]. Mutt and Jeff lasted several years around World war time on the silent screen, and their manner of dialogue was the same as you will still find in the newspaper. For more than two decades all cartoons were silent, lacking the sound that makes them as caricatures of living things, neo-perfect in many types of humor.
Other early cartoons were Felix the Cat with his studied pose, folded arms and flowing tail; Aesop's Fables; Krazy Kat; and the Fleischer Clown that bobbed in and out in the “Out of the Inkwell” series. Tony Sarg of the undying marionettes had his day with his "Silhouettes."
Disney was the first to apply sound to cartoons, that being the squeaking voice of his timid Mickey Mouse. The first colored cartoon, was “Pinto's Prisma Revue,” which was created by Pinto Colvig, who voiced several of the character in “Gulliver's Travels.” The singing voices of Prince David and Princess Glory in the Jonathan Swift classic are those of Lanny Ross and Jessica Dragonette.
Besides the regular Fleischer staff, college and high school artists of Miami, Fla., helped with the production of “Gulliver's Travels.”

Worms

Dick Huemer’s fun, Fleischer-like, sense of humour is a welcome sight in the Scrappy cartoons made by the Charles Mintz studio for Columbia.

In 1932, there’s a cute extended gag as Oopy finds the “X” that marks the spot for buried riches, confirmed by Scrappy’s map.



Wait a minute! It’s not an “X” at all. It’s worms.



In a Fleischer-esque unexpected throwaway gag, one of the worms is riding a tricycle, using little, um, legs.



But Huemer isn’t finished. Another worm comes out of the hole and whistles. A flap opens in Oopy’s onesy. We’ll let the frames tell the rest of the gag.



Sid Marcus and Art Davis are the credited animators with Joe De Nat supplying the musical background.