It Doesn't Only Happen In The Movies

Okay, maybe Lana Turner wasn’t discovered behind the counter at Schwab’s Drug Store. But nobody-to-star transformations do happen in real life.

Take, for example, Vicki Lawrence.

Lawrence’s path to stardom wasn’t instantaneous—she was very much the junior member of the cast on the Carol Burnett Show at the outset, and it took several seasons for her role to grow—but her fame was sudden. Lawrence had been an unidentified member of one of those rah-rah chorus groups that cheered middle-town, button-down America at one time, and went from that to suddenly being a regular player on a TV variety show.

We’ll let her tell the story. Here are two newspaper stories, the first from October 29, 1967 and the second from June 5, 1973 when she added “recording star” to her list of accomplishments (“The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia” went Number One for her in 1973). She went on to take one of her Burnett characters and put it in a starring role in the occasionally-revamped sitcom Mama’s Family and hosted her own cheery talk show.

At age 71, she still performs her “Vicki Lawrence and Mama” act. Perhaps appropriately, her “older sister” is still on stage at age 87.

She Looks Like Carol—That Helps
o o o
Vicki Lawrence Cast as Miss Burnett's Sister
By STAN MAAYS
HOLLYWOOD—Vicki Lawrence hunched her shoulders and grinned impishly when she confessed, "I didn't know who Carol Burnett was until I was a sophomore in high school.
The tall (5-6 1/2), slim (115) 18-year-old-girl, who was picked to be Carol Burnett's sister on her CBS-TV show because of her amazing resemblance, has acquired many of Carol's mannerisms.
It wasn't until the kids of the Young Americans singing group (Vicki was a one-time member) started telling everybody that Vicki was really Carol's sister that she decided to catch the effervescent star on TV to see for herself.
SHE WROTE a fan letter, with picture enclosed, and that's what lead to Vicki's being on TV today.
"Gosh, it was just a year ago when it all started," exclaimed Vicki as she rolled her eyes like Carol. "I was up for 'Miss Fireball,' the annual contest staged by the Inglewood (Calif.) Fire Department, when things happened.

"Carol and her husband had sneaked in back to watch. Of course, word got around that she was there, and when I was picked the queen they got her to come up on stage and crown me.
"HER HUSBAND let out a yelp when they announced she would do the honors, because Carol was pregnant at the time. All I could think about at the time was that this sort of thing only happens in the movies."
Carol kept in touch with Vicki most of the year, telling her that they had a sister skit in the works for some time.
When the time came to test Vicki, another girl, with professional experience, also was tested. This worried Vicki.
"WHEN MY turn came, I was discouraged from the word go," Vicki admitted. "The director told me to just walk in like I did at home. And when I did, he looked at me, scratched his jaw a moment, and said, 'Hmmm, we've got a lot of work to do.' "
On her CBS publicity questionaire Vicki listed her dad, a CPA, as "business agent." Mom is down as "publicity representative." It's also noted that mom is "a frustrated comedienne who received no encouragement."
"SO MUCH has happened, " Vicki said. "Gee, my dad — he's such a goof, always teasing me — called me one day and said they're having a little party for me. So I went along with it. Wow! When I got home there it was at Rock Hudson's place. Princess Grace was there and everybody. And Carol had arranged for me to be there.
"I'm so overwhelmed by what's happened that I never think of thanking her."

Veni, Vidi Vicki Lawrence of TV's Carol Burnett Show
By CHARLES WITBECK
TV Key, Inc.
HOLLYWOOD — (KFS) — "I never like anything I do, I go by what others say, said Vicki Lawrence of the Carol Burnett Show.
The former Miss Fireball, a talent contest winner crowned by lookalike Carol Burnett at the Hollywood Park race track, suffers from insecurity problems despite her six seasons on the best variety hour in television.
Vicki's lack of confidence in herself makes sense to her. The UCLA college student, who gave up school because she was learning more about her craft by working, is surrounded by the most skillful sketch artists in town. As the neophyte compared to all the others, Vicki remains the favorite little sister on the show, a member of the family whose time will come. She must watch from the sidelines and be content with her category. After a while, the sister row becomes confining, and Vicki champs at the bit.
"If I could get one good part outside the show — something crazy—just to prove I can cut it, I would be very happy," Vicki said. She has already verified her talents to Carol, who will back her in anything she wants, but now it's time to prove it to her questioning self — outside the protective family which has provided everything.
That break is occurring these days in the record business. Vicki has a hit in "Rainy Night in Georgia," written by her song-writing husband Bobby Russell. "Rainy Night" could be another door opener, allowing Vicki to slip out of her sister Chris image, and let show bookers see the youngster in a new light.

Six years of seasoning on the Burnett Show has been invaluable to Vicki, working with and watching Carol, Harvey Korman, semi-regular Tim Conway, and such guests as Carl Reiner, Lily Tomlin, Steve Lawrence, Bernadette Peters — a training course with pay that UCLA could never match. Some years ago, a college professor told student Vicki that she should quit school, since she was already doing what all the other drama-oriented students were aiming at. Student took professor's advice, and months later bumped into the man on a CBS stage; he had taken his own advice and was starting out in the business as a stagehand.
Carol Burnett's protege is the first to acknowledge all the benefits derived from being included in the show, and she is also honest enough to explain her problems as the youngest member of the family. In the last two seasons, Vicki has begun to emerge from her protective shell. "I still need to lose my inhibitions," she said. "I am too self-conscious. Lots of times I think I'm making a total fool of myself. If somebody laughs, this encourages me to go further."
Marriage to Bobby Russell has also been a major factor in bolstering Vicki's self-confidence. She could throw in the towel, but admits she's hooked on the business of performing, and doesn't believe she would be happy just as a housewife. The Russells may live in Beverly Hills during the television season, but their true home is Bobby's farm, 300 acres in the south, where Russell does most of his composing, and Vicki plays the farm girl, getting up at 5 a.m. to cook breakfast. Raised in Los Angeles, the actress is a greenhorn about the land, yet she loves the rural life. Her eyes sparkle as she talks of selecting fat goose eggs, riding horses, cooking turnip greens, country ham and corn cakes.
The city girl who did everything well as a youngster — from cheer-leading to table tennis to tap dancing — has gone country in a big way.
Listen to "Rainy Night in Georgia," sung by a Los Angeles girl, an ex-Miss Fireball, who just discovered the land, and makes it sound like she's never been West of the Mississippi.

Cat Cash and Carry

Ah, the satisfied look of a kitten.



The bully bulldog arrives. The cartoon is Bad Luck Blackie (1949), and you probably know how it works. The kitten blows a whistle, a black cat crosses the dog’s path, something bad happens to the dog. The kitten has a great expression of horror as the dog devours it.



Here comes the cat. The bicycle wheel is an unexpected touch; only Tex Avery would come up it. Note the perspective animation. MGM budgets at work.



Now the bad luck. A cash register falls from nowhere. Avery then turns the dog into a cash register as the kitten, looking proud, emerges from a tray in the dog’s mouth.



Louie Schmitt designed the cutsy, Disney-type kitten and provided animation along with Walt Clinton, Grant Simmons and Preston Blair. Rich Hogan helped with gags, Johnny Johnsen painted the backgrounds. Avery voices the bulldog and Pat McGeehan (according to expert Keith Scott) is the black cat.

The First Twisker Punch

Popeye uses the twisker punch on the screen for the first time on an Indian brave that attacks him with a tomahawk in I Yam What I Am (1933).



Seymour Kneitel and William Henning are the credited animators.

Censoring the Jerkfinkle

He appeared in three Jack Benny radio episodes in a row, brought the house down, then vanished.

He was Logan Jerkfinkle.

Logan was a somewhat effeminate (but married) man who interrupted the Benny routine on stage to proclaim his undying loyalty to Jack. The trouble was, in his first appearance, this “ardent fan” turned out to not be a regular listener. He wanted to speak with Don Bester and Frank Parker, who hadn’t been on Benny’s show for about five years.

In his second appearance, he switched allegiances to Don Wilson and verbally encouraged “Tubby” to continue telling him all about a product with six delicious flavours.

Jerkfinkle was played by one of Fred Allen’s stock actors, a funny man named Charlie Cantor, who later became Socrates Mulligan in Allen’s Alley before taking the same character to Duffy’s Tavern with a new name of Clifton Finnegan.

Logan appeared on the April 21, April 28 and May 5, 1940 broadcasts. Not only that, the astute Allen Heard the laughs and had Cantor do the same Jerkfinkle schick on his own show May 1st, swooning about Allen then explaining “I’m fickle.” Logan didn’t appear again. Granted the three Benny shows were in New York and Jack went back to Los Angeles after they were done, but there may have been something else afoot.

The weekly edition of Variety reported on May 8th:

‘Jerk’ Ruled Out
NBC’s continuity acceptance department has asked agency radio department to curtail if possible the inclusion of the word, ‘jerk,’ in their comedy scripts. What brought up the matter was the use of the word as a personal moniker (‘Logan Jerkfinkle,’ played by Charles Cantor) on the Jack Benny and Fred Allen programs.
Network has taken the attitude that while the word has lost its original connotation and has been accepted as everyday slang, it still sounded ‘cheap’ and its use ought to be kept from getting out of bounds on the air.

Benny’s writers (and it would have been with Jack’s acquiescence) ignored any warning, if they got one, and figured they could milk Logan for laughs one more time. The following appeared in the Capital Times of Madison, Wisconsin, on June 16th. Considering the fact specific songs are mentioned, this must have come from an NBC news release.

Jack Benny In Final Program Until Next Fall
Jack Benny, with a renewed contract in his pocket and a remodeled bathing suit in his trunk, will say aloha to his gang and make ready to embark on his Hawaiian vacation trip during the broadcast with Mary Livingston, Phil Harris, Dennis Day and Don Wilson over station WIBA at 9:30 tonight.
Joining the regular gang in bidding Benny a bon voyage will be none other than Logan Jerkfinkle, his loyal New York fan, who journeyed 3,000 miles across country just to be on hand to toss Benny an anchor.
Dennis Day's vocal finale for the season will be Blue Love Bird, and Phil Harris orchestra will play Tennessee Fish Fry.
Ezra Stone, previously scheduled to appear, will not be heard.

It turned out Stone did appear. But Logan Jerkfinkle did not. Did the network censors get in the way and pull poor Logan off the show? Perhaps. We’ll never know. (“Tennessee Fish Fry” was replaced with “Make Believe Island.”)

It’s telling that Cantor returned on a New York broadcast on December 15th. He was playing the same less-than-manly character but with a completely different name.

If nothing, Logan’s brief appearance on radio made an impression. Here’s a story in the Oklahoma Briefs column of the Cushing Daily Citizen, May 13, 1940:

HOLDENVILLE—Ballots in the Arkansas Day queen contest here last week included these signatures: Logan Jerkfinkle, Chief Justice W. H. Taft, Susie Cue, U. S. Grant, Abraham Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, Parkakarkus, Jed Johnson, Will Rogers, Josh Lee, Red Phillips, Fannie Hurst, Charles Lindbergh, Al Capone, Lee Cruce and Tom Joad.
Jerkfinkle was the most popular name with the frivolous voters, having been signed to 14 ballots. Contest judges wondered if state candidates tendencies toward "shadow names" aren't spreading among the electorate.

A Tour of the MGM Cartoon Studio

These photos are from the September 1940 edition of Short Story, a (dare we say?) short-lived MGM publication plugging its short films to exhibitors.

I’m sure you’ve seen some of these pictures before. “W.D. Burness” is better known as Pete Burness.

Frank and Freberg

What? Stan Freberg and Frank Nelson together?!

Among many things, Freberg was known for his extremely creative radio and TV commercials. Here are four. Nelson assists in the first pair.

A three-page article in the 2 December 1964 edition of Sponsor magazine confirms Billy May’s Orchestra is backing them, with help from Jud Conlon’s Singers. I think Bill Baldwin is the announcer in the third spot. I would love to know who the singer is in the second ad.

Cue in past 18 seconds of LP crackle.

The Lennymobile

Another one of Tex Avery’s long cars, this time in Lonesome Lenny (1946), winding its way through Johnny Johnsen’s background art.



Walt Clinton, Ed Love, Preston Blair and Ray Abrams are the credited animators.

Pelican Pranks

Flip and whatever his frog girl-friend is named escape from a pelican in Puddle Pranks (1930).



Whoa, Mr. Pelican! Those eyes don’t belong to Flip.



The pelican fights to stay alive in the fish’s body. Eventually, it shoves its feet to the lake bed, still inside the fish, and forces the fish to walk away.



Ub Iwerks gets the only credit on this cartoon, which is already behind Mickey Mouse in terms of design and humour.

We Switch You Now to Bob and Ray

Time for another Bob and Ray post. No introduction is needed other than this appeared in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, November 10, 1952.

AFTER LAST NIGHT
By Will Jones
Bob and Ray Wow Stag Party
If I had to arrange some entertainment for a stag party, NBC's Bob and Ray would be about the last act I'd think of getting. So there was a stag party last week, and somebody got Bob and Ray for the featured entertainment, and what happened? They were great.
They didn't bring along a single special stag party joke, either. They used the same gags they use for housewives at 10:30 a.m. daily on KSTP-NBC.
The two flew to Minneapolis from New York to appear at a dinner party of the Association of Manufacturing Representatives. They made the trip as a favor to their sponsor, Colgate-Palmolive-Peet.
Before they ever got to the party, the gags started. When they landed at Wold-Chamberlain, they had one of their famous kits for Gov. C. Elmer Anderson.
THIS ONE WAS a Governor's Kit. In it were peanuts ("goobers for the gubernatorial race"), some of those paper noisemakers that kids blow in each others' faces at parties ("party favors"), a small fence ("for sitting on or straddling") and a deck of cards, some poker chips and dice ("for the party").

They also brought along an impressive leather-bound book stamped "Important State Business." Inside was a comic book.
At the party, in the Radisson ballroom, they did things like "Dr. O.K., the Sentimental Banker," their takeoff on Dr. I.Q.
Sample question: "I reside in the Empire State building. I invented the peanut butter sandwich. I tried nine times to go over Niagara falls in a barrel. I am the father of infantry drill regulations. I was the 42nd president of the United States, Who am I?"
They speculated on what doctors' radio commercials would sound like if doctors were allowed to advertise: "With every examination one free probe!"
THEY REPEATED a hilarious post-election interview with a public opinion pollster that they had done earlier in the day on Dave Garroway's TV program.
In that one, Ray, as the pollster, concludes that his election predictions were wrong because he had his field men asking improperly phrased questions: "We were asking the people, 'Do you like to watch sports or would you rather participate in them?' We should have asked who they were going to vote for."
He also concluded that his sample hadn't been adequate. His staff had questioned 18 people, "mostly women and children."
Besides their daily program on NBC radio and their twice-weekly TV appearances with Garroway, Bob (Elliott), and Ray (Goulding) have a records-and-chatter program that runs for a couple of hours every morning. It's heard only in the New York area.
"WHEN WE GET an idea, we play around with it on the early-morning program. Then when we think it's right, we use it on the network," said Bob.
"Most of the time we don't use a script. That pollster bit, for instance. We tried it out on our morning show. Then we did it three times for Garroway, and each time it was different.
"It kept getting better and better. We'll do it again tonight at the dinner, and I suppose it'll be still better." Bob does the impersonations, such as Dr. O.K., and Arthur Stirdley [sic], their version of Arthur Godfrey. Ray does the voice of Mary McGoon, a regular in their cast of characters.
"Whenever we interview some jerk, though, I'm always the jerk," said Ray.
Since their success on NBC, Bob and Ray have hired three writers "who think pretty much the way we do" to write some of their sketches.
But whenever they're ribbing some well-known radio or TV program they said, they never use writers or, for that matter, a script. They work out the basic idea between them and then just let it happen.
Day Brightener: Bob and Ray gag about a cowboy named Tex who is from Louisiana. Why Tex? He didn't want to be called Louise.

Polly Wants a Good Writer

A lot of Columbia cartoons just don’t make sense.

In Polly Wants a Doctor (January 1944), Polly doesn’t want a doctor at all. She doesn’t want crackers, either. She meets up with a goat, who eats junk and only junk. “Roughage,” you know. The goat offers Polly unappetizing garbage. Polly isn’t keen on the idea. But, in the very next scene, Polly’s eating the stuff without any objection.

Then the goat feeds her a phonograph/radio. But it operates just like a telephone; the goat talks to an operator to get music to play. Polly, for some reason, turns into the shape of an airplane when an airplane news broadcast comes on, then crashes on top of the goat.



The scene turns black and then the camera follows some kind of shaft. Now the final gag. The goat and Polly are upside down in China, eating rice with chopsticks. No punch line. That’s it. Cartoon over. The audience really did get the shaft.



Why does the goat want to eat real food now? And, oh, skip it. Dun Roman’s responsible for the story but it’s like six different people were put into separate rooms and asked to come up with a sequence, and then they were all glued together.

Keith Scott says comedian Jerry Mann is the parrot and Byron Kane (not John McLeish) is the goat who invites Polly for “luncheon” to...try out recipes? Why? Oh, well. It’s best not to ask and move on to the next cartoon.