I Saw the Light ... and Swallowed It

A lightbulb gives a cute little Disney-esque rabbit an idea in Doggone Tired (1949).



The rabbit is doing all he can to keep a dog awake so the dog will be too tired to hunt him in the morning. The rabbit connects the light switch to a clock so the light keeps turning on and off.



The dog unscrews the light bulb.



That doesn’t solve the problem.



Neither does eating the bulb. We get some body-orafice jokes before the dog looks at the camera in disgust and the scene ends (there’s a pretty quick to the next scene; I wonder if the start of it was edited).



Bobe Cannon, Mike Lah, Grant Simmons and Walt Clinton are the animators for Tex Avery in this short. Character designs are by ex-Disneyite Louis Schmitt.

Baker on Broadway

Kenny Baker wasn’t satisfied.

He was a virtual unknown outside his home town when he was vaulted into fame on the Jack Benny radio show. But he got tired of playing a silly character so he quit. He went into motion pictures. But he got tired of playing silly characters so he quit.

In between he lost his gig on Fred Allen’s show when it was cut from an hour to a half-hour (and the trades reported some friction as well).

He moved onward and, mostly, downward. He was given the starring role on a show called Glamour Manor. But it was a daytime show on the number three network and tried to remind people “Hey, I was with Jack Benny once!” by incorporating Don Wilson and Schlepperman into the cast. He signed with Ziv to cut a series of transcribed 15-minute musical shows for syndication. Both shows petered out and Baker was pretty much a spent force in radio by the end of the ‘40s.

Baker had two other claims to fame during this period. He cut some religious records—he was a Christian Scientist—and he appeared on Broadway.

Let’s go back to 1944 and check out what Kenny had to say. The first story appeared in papers around February 11th, the second around August 10th (remember that, back then, newspapers would leave feature stories on the spike until they needed them, so they could appear months after hitting the wire).

Kenny Baker Has Good Words
BY JACK GAVER
(United Press Staff Correspondent)
NEW YORK—Up to now you could have put all the Hollywood and radio personalities who escape with a whole pelt when they make a pass at Broadway without any stage training into a ballpark peanut bag and have room left for the hulls, but not any more.
Kenny Baker, the popular tenor who happens to have a voice, is too big.
"I'm not interested in putting in any complaints against the movies and radio," Baker said in his dressing room at the 46th St. theater, "because they're great businesses, and I hope to see more of them. But somehow in the several years that I was working in those fields I didn't care to do much but sing or develop as a rather dopey foil for Jack Benny. That kind of work buys a lot of groceries but it gets monotonous. I wanted to know if I could do anything more, and I've found it on Broadway."

Kenny, a tall, round-faced, husky gent with a beguiling smile, came in cold as far as Broadway was concerned four and a half months ago as the leading man of the musical comedy "One Touch of Venus" and won himself a set of critics' notices that have come in mighty handy in this winter when you buy coal by the bushel.
Baker began looking toward the stage a couple of years ago. He went to a teacher who lowered his speaking voice and was in a receptive mood when producer Cheryl Crawford showed up in Hollywood with a script and an offer. But the story wasn't quite right, Baker thought, and besides his wife was expecting their third child. He stayed on the coast. Then Miss Crawford came back, with a written script, and got the singer's autograph on a contract.
Baker's great appeal, aside from his undoubtedly capable voice, is that he doesn't fit the popular conception of the matinee idol. He just looks like a good ordinary guy, which is the role he plays in "Venus," wherein he is a barber in a mythical suburb called Ozone Heights.
The singer began his vocalizing with a college glee club, won a radio contest after a few years and from then on had no trouble meeting the rent. His wife was his college sweetheart. They and the three children, two of whom go to school, are living for the show's duration in a house in a Long Island suburb. Their home is a small ranch in the Hollywood area.
Baker uses the subway to go to and from the theater. He gets in a couple of hours before a performance and does a bit of vocal calesthenics to get the pipes in shape. On the two matinee days he gets in shortly after noon and stays right through until about midnight, by which time he will have reckoned with some backstage visitors and removed the makeup.
“I certainly don’t have any weight trouble in this show," he said. “Matter of fact I keep losing a little weight steadily and never seem to get it back. But I'm not kicking. There are worse ways of earning a living.”
Which will do for the week’s prize understatement.

Kenny Baker Quits Films, Proves Ability on Stage
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
National Enterprise Association
LIKE a lot of other people, Kenny Baker had to go to New York to prove to Hollywood that he could act.
Hollywood discovered a long time ago that Kenny could sing, but a series of insipid screen characters inspired by his stooging on the Jack Benny radio show convinced the movie-makers that he should stick to singing.
"I was stuck with insipid characters in corny pictures," Baker says, "and I couldn't get out of them. I was typed as a sap with about as much backbone as a jelly fish."
So a year ago Baker said nertz to Hollywood, shuttered up his home, drained his swimming pool and took his wife and three children to New York. The rest you know. Kenny was a hit on Broadway opposite Mary Martin in One Touch of Venus. He sang, of course, but what pleased him most was that the New York critics were equally impressed by his acting.
He left the show recently to return to Hollywood for a radio program and the title of Radio's No. 1 Tenor. And he's pleased by something else. Several film studios are bidding for his services in straight acting roles.

One Touch of Venus convinced Hollywood that Kenny Baker could act, and it also convinced Kenny that stage work should be listed as essential to film careers. "I had sung with bands on the stage," he said, "but I had never had the chance to act before a live audience. It was wonderful training. I should have paid them for letting me work in the play."
• • •
HE'LL never forget the time Mary Martin ran across the stage wearing only a pair of shoes.
That happened during the play's first tryout in Boston. "She had to make a fast change," Kenny said, "and in the confusion of opening night she undressed on one side of the stage and then discovered her clothes were on the other side. Her cue was coming up so she just ran across the stage behind the scenery. Only she forgot there was a five-foot open place in the scenery, putting her in full view of the audience, just before she reached the wings. It was kinda dark, though, and I guess no one noticed her."
Kenny was on stage at the time. "I always miss all of those things," he said.
• • •
KENNY BAKER, a Monrovia, Calif., boy, has done all right since he switched from playing the violin to warbling. In junior college he made the discovery that he was a better singer than virtuoso. "I sang at so many Lions, Rotarians and Kiwanians luncheons that I was known as the service club tenor."
The Baker home is in Beverly Hills. But there's also a 150-acre Baker ranch near Santa Barbara where he spends most of his time, Mrs. Baker is Geraldyne Churchill, the girl next door whom he planned to marry ever since they went to high school together. They were married in 1933, and have three children—Kenny Jr., 8, Susan, 6, and Johnny, 8 months.

Baker did some stage and TV acting in the ‘50s, recorded some religious music and signed a deal for a daily 15-minute radio show on Mutual, but had pretty well retired to his ranch and his kids. By all accounts, Kenny Baker was now satisfied.

The Dean and the Birthday Bird

Do the big studios celebrate their cartoon characters’ birthdays any more?

They did once upon a time. When Walter Lantz turned 90 in 1990, Universal Studios Florida threw a bash, along with one for Woody Woodpecker, who reached 50 that year.

And whether there was a formal celebration of Woody’s 40th birthday, I don’t know, but Lantz used the occasion to talk to the press and generate a bit of publicity. By that point of his life, he was the elder statesman of animation, pretty much retired except for giving PR to Universal, the studio he connected with going back to the late ‘20s when he was put in charge of making Oswald the Rabbit cartoons and Charles Mintz was tossed out of the picture. Of course, Lantz went back further than that in animation.

This syndicated column appeared in papers starting around February 28, 1981. I’m sorry I can’t reproduce the excellent drawing that appeared with it of Woody with a large birthday cake.

Woody Woodpecker celebrates 40 years
By AUSTIN PHILIPS
United Feature Syndicate
No internationally recognized actor can look into the mirror and truthfully say, "I haven't changed a bit in 40 years." There is, however, one exception. Woody Woodpecker can say that. And that's exactly how old he is. The lovable bird has been a favorite of several generations of children and adults.
He's not just a local favorite, even though there's no doubt he's a Yankee Doodle boy. He appears today on 85 television stations and in thousands of theaters in the United States—he is also seen in 72 other countries around the world and he is a TV star in 60 foreign nations.
Woody's "father" is Walter Lantz, known as the dean of American animators. He is a fatherly, gracious gentleman of 80 years, who keeps extremely active and who shares with his wife, Gracie, the same outgoing, uninhibited, wacky personality.
In 1979, the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts & Sciences opened their annual Oscar telecast by presenting Walter Lantz a special Academy Award for his 60 years of outstanding service to the motion picture industry.
Woody has been the only "offspring" of the Lantz duo. And they, in turn, have become grandparents to millions of people around the world who have adopted Woody as a member of the family.

Sharing identification with Woody equally is Mrs. Walter Lantz. Gracie has been the voice of Woody for all but the first few years of his existence. Woody Woodpecker wasn't born a star he first made his appearance as a supporting actor in an Andy Pandy cartoon titled "Knock Knock" in 1940. Within one month after the cartoon was released, Woody Woodpecker was getting more fan mail than any other star at Universal Studio.
"I guess it was Woody's ornery laugh that got them," said Walter Lantz.
The laugh was so popular that a song was written and Kay Kayser's [sic] popular band of that era recorded it. It's still heard today on many jukeboxes. From then on, Woody received star billing.
The laugh is the only sound in a Woody Woodpecker cartoon that is not dubbed in various foreign languages. According to Gracie, she can laugh in 65 different languages.
The idea for a woodpecker to become a cartoon character came about when the Lantzes were on their honeymoon in the mountains in California. Every morning at daybreak, they were awakened by a persistent woodpecker who insisted on pecking on the shingles of the cabin to find the hidden acorns he had pushed under the shingles during the summer. Lantz claims that if California law hadn't protected the redheaded woodpecker, he "certainly would have borrowed a shotgun and done him in."
A few months later when Walter was looking for a heavy to annoy lovable Andy Panda, Gracie suggested it be a woodpecker.
With the rising cost of production, no company can afford to make the kind of cartoons that once were made for theaters. Lantz has steadfastly refused to revert to "limited animation" which is seen in all new television cartoons today. Thus, he continues to reissue the 375 cartoons he has made since 1940, and, fortunately, he finds a new generation of audiences with each reissue.

The Lantzes made a stop in Indiana the same year and the South Bend Tribune provided this pleasant write-up in its July 12, 1981 edition. They did a lot of charitable work after the Lantz studio closed. Lantz talks about one of his ventures to help others.

If you hear a nutty laugh... its Woody Woodpecker
By SHERRI FISHMAN
Tribune Staff Writer
Only one tell-tale sign gives the diminutive couple away as celebrities. Once the ear-piercing, rib-tickling laugh is heard, their identity is known—the creator and voice of Woody Woodpecker, Walter and Gracie Lantz.
The Lantzes are in town showing off Walter’s newest creation at the seventh International Plate Collectors' Convention. Yes, it is a Woody Woodpecker plate. Walter reproduced one of his original oil paintings of Woody doing his self-portrait on the first of a series of plates. v The first edition of the plate, numbering 10,000 copies, was sold out at the convention by the manufacturer, Armstrong’s. Walter said he was told that is unusual for a first plate. “I don’t know that much about plate collecting,” he said. “I didn’t know so many artists do plates and that so many people are interested.”
More than 75 exhibits of plates and porcelains adorned Century Center for the convention, which ends today. Almost 8,000 people came to see the exhibits at what is billed as the world’s largest trade show.
“It is so wonderful to see people enjoy Woody,” Walter said after he and Gracie spent almost two hours Saturday signing Woody buttons, dolls, plates and brochures for people who do just that.
Walter and Gracie still enjoy Woody, who is celebrating his 40th birthday. Walter said he doesn’t get tired of Woody (“I cant, he’s my meal ticket”) but he likes to do different things with him. About five years ago, be began doing paintings with Woody in them. Some of those oil paintings—one which Walter calls “Mona Woody” with the head of Woody Woodpecker on Mona Lisa’s body, another painting with Woody’s face adorning Mt. Rushmore in between Jefferson’s and Lincoln’s, and another of Woody in a Don Quixote pose, will turn into four to six more plates.

He has been painting for almost 45 years and exhibits his work in Honolulu. He and Gracie go to Hawaii from their home in Beverly Hills about three times a year. He began his work in oils with still life, but started doing paintings of Woody at the suggestion of a fellow artist.
“And the paintings of Woody sold well,” Walter said. “The paintings sell for between $10,000 and $25,000 each.” He said he was surprised the paintings sell for that much (the “Mona Woody” painting sold for $20,000 more than Leonardo Da Vinci got for the original) but the money is not the point—he gives it to charity. Walter and Gracie talked enthusiastically about their life with Woody, a character which was basically Gracie’s idea. She suggested the bird as a cartoon character after having to listen to a woodpecker peck outside of her window early every morning. Walter flew with the idea and developed a character that is known all over the world.
What most people do not know about Woody is that Gracie has been the voice and the laugh of Woody for 30 years. Mel Blanc started out as the voice of Woody, but had to stop when he signed a contract with another studio. Gracie, an actress, was one of many voice artists who tried out for the part unbeknown to Walter. She was the seventh of seven finalists in the tryouts and got the part. Walter’s surprised reaction was something she could not say in public, she said with her own laugh.
It is obvious she enjoys doing the famous laugh, as she burst out at an autograph seeker’s request. She said she has been asked to do the laugh in many countries, and on a visit to Tokyo, was asked to do it in Japanese. “So I did the laugh and ended it with ‘Ahhh So’,” she said.
Walter gives his wife much credit for her voice ability, and for sticking with Woody for 40 years. “She has become a nutty woodpecker,” he said.
The Lantzes said they enjoyed their first convention and trip to South Bend. They are staying an extra day to tour the University of Notre Dame campus and the city. So, if you hear a loud, recognizable laugh, do not think you have gone wacky—it will only be Gracie and her nuty [sic] woodpecker.

Woody Woodpecker turns 80 this year. His old studio is gone, Universal is merged with who-knows-what these days, but you can still celebrate his birthday by watching some old cartoons. I’m sure Walter and Gracie would have wanted it that way.

Puncture and Puss

A cat that sounds like Donald Duck threatens two puppies in The Wayward Pups. At least, I think he’s threatening them; I can’t make out what he’s saying other than “What’s going on here?”

Anyway, the string on the balloon the pups were playing with catches fire and slowly works its way to the balloon. The cat realises something’s happening, turns around, and....



Whoever animated this makes the cat look like it’s in pain. Here are some of the drawings as it somersaults in mid-air. You can see the paw splotches for speed. You can also see some absolutely horrible DVNR which really hurts action scenes shot on ones in this cartoon.



No animators are listed in the credits, just Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising. No, I don’t know who is voicing the cat, but I know it’s not Clarence Nash.

Diving Countdown

“One for the money, two for the show...” says Bugs Bunny as he bounces on the diving board in High Diving Hare (1949), one of the great cartoons from the Friz Freleng unit.



Gerry Chiniquy uses some of the same drawings each time Bugs comes down but animates the rabbit differently each time he’s in mid-air. Bugs is a ballet dancer the first time, moves like an Egyptian the second time, is in a sitting position the third time and then lifts the rear part of his body above his head the fourth time before the gag—the force arcs Sam off the diving platform.



Naturally, Bugs waves goodbye to Sam.



Ken Champin, Virgil Ross, Manny Perez and Pete Burness also animated on this short, with Tedd Pierce coming up with the story.

The Coot Carries On

Time to hear from television’s favourite grump, Bill Frawley.

Frawley spent years on the road in vaudeville (some of it with his wife) and years on the set in Hollywood playing a variety of supporting characters before getting hired to spend more years on the stage at the General Service Studios in one of television’s greatest shows—I Love Lucy.

By all accounts, Frawley loved the role of Fred Mertz—provided he didn’t get stuck doing physical stunts, like taking a fish in the face. He loved Lucille Ball. He didn’t love his TV wife Vivian Vance. The stories below vaguely refer to that.

He was a working actor all his life, so he wasn’t just going to sit around and collect residuals when I Love Lucy went into endless re-runs. He played Fred McMurray’s father-in-law who ran the house on My Three Sons and left only when his poor health prevented him from getting the necessary insurance to work.

The first article from the Hearst papers of March 4, 1953—Lucy was into its second season, and the second from June 30, 1961 from one of the syndication services. My Three Sons had finished its first season.

William Frawley, Now 60, Finds Years Bring Him Greatest Success
By JACK O'BRIAN
NEW YORK (INS)—"I don't mind admitting my movie career was having a bit of a lull when Lucy came along," said William Frawley, the balding, merry, wry neighbor living just downstairs from Lucy and Ricky Ricardo each Monday on CBS-TV.
"Now the movie moguls are after me again and somehow I can't help but gloat inwardly that I can't make movies while I'm playing Fred Mertz."
Lull, or not, Bill Frawley, one of Broadway's and Hollywood's best character-comics, now is enjoying the greatest fame of his life. This does not tar the ever-normal Bill, though quietly delighting him in one way—at last he's a big man to his neighbors and relatives in Burlington, Ia.
"The show even has revived an interest in me in my old Iowa home town," he smiled.

"People I'd thought had forgotten Bill Frawley ever existed have been writing me. The local papers even are doing stories on me."
The changes "I Love Lucy" membership has performed in Bill Frawley's habits aren't visible except in the way folks now greet him everywhere as “Fred.” The Irish surname has been forgotten, too.
Such recognition couldn't be expected to work much change basically on a fellow who's been starred and featured for some 35 years in Hollywood and on Broadway, and who, last Thursday, celebrated his 60th birthday.
Now that he's such a big beam in the structure of “I Love Lucy,” Bill can't make his usual October pilgrimage East for the World Series, but here the law of equalization lurks helpfully: the same medium which keeps him so busy, well-paid and celebrated—television—now also brings the World Series right to him in Hollywood.
Granted, it comes through at an hour, California time, at which the old Frawley never would have arisen even during the lull before the pleasant storm called "I Love Lucy."
But he had to sacrifice something for what surely seems the nearest to perfect job insurance TV yet has forged.

William Frawley Star Of "My Three Sons"
By CHARLES J. LEAVY
Commenting on his role as "Bub", alias Michael Francis O'Casey, chief cook, bottle washer and den mother to three youngsters and their widower father, (Fred MacMurray) in ABC-TV's "My Three Sons", William Frawley says, "Bub's a lovable old coot and just my type of guy. He's rough, has a voice like an old buzz saw, and he's always recalling his old vaudeville days. He howls like a lovesick wolf hound at the slightest incident, but he has no bite at all. I think I'd like Bub if ever I met him face to face."
-o- -o- -o- -o-
AS FRAWLEY made these comment, we could not help but feel he was describing himself.
Having began his career in show business as a vaudevillian back in the early 1900's, Frawley toured up and down the Pacific Coast circuits for four years. In 1927, he graduated to his first Broadway musical and soon after, he appeared in his first dramatic role in "Twentieth Century".
Now sixty-eight years young, Frawley is at the pinnacle of success.
Although he was well known for many of his motion picture roles, it was his role as "Fred Mertz" in the "I Love Lucy" series which catapulted him into national fame in the entertainment world.
-o- -o- -o- -o-
IN THAT ROLE you will remember, his characterization of the grumpy, penny-pinching landlord and sharp-tongued wife pulverizer endeared him to countless television viewers.
Call it what you may — a grumpy old coot or an actor with principles, Frawley has exhibited one or the other many times in his career.

Peter Tewksbury, producer-director of “My Three Sons” has his hands full attempting to domesticate Frawley in his role as cook and housemother. Frawley continually rebuffs Tewksbury's attempts to fill out his role with props.
"Pete has me pulling things out of the oven, picking up toys, stirring a pot of goulash. I just can't be telling a gag while kneading dough or waxing the floor,” — not Fred, not Bub but Bill Frawley says.
-o- -o- -o- -o-
ALTHOUGH HE was told Vivian Vance, his former "mate" on the “Lucy” show, had appeared on the "Jack Paar" show for scale wages, he refused a similar offer, briskly commenting, "That's her business."
"In the nine years of making the "I Love Lucy" series, Bill and Desi Arnaz got along very well except for one thing. They were continually fighting about one thing—money. Frawley wanted more, of course.
As it turned out, Frawley freely admits he did very well especially considering the royalty checks which keep rolling in for the re-runs of “Lucy”.
That bachelor Frawley is a lovable old coot is attested to by many friends he made as a result of his role in "I Love Lucy".
Some time ago, he was approached by a male admirer who insisted that he had to buy Bill a drink because of the way he told off his wife, Ethel.
-o- -o- -o- -o-
BILL FRAWLEY has made many friends among show business personalities. He and Fred MacMurray are old friends stemming back to the old movie days when they made quite a few Paramount films together.
Although Fred MacMurray was hard to convince, Frawley was anxious to do “My Three Sons” because he thought it had all the ingredients of a hit. He was so right for the show has been renewed for another season. In fact, it is one of the few hits of this season that will be brought back in the Fall.
Fred Mertz, Bub O'Casey or Bill Frawley, the "grumpy lovable old coot," keeps picking the winners.

Tom Thumb vs the Worm

Tom Thumb (from the Ub Iwerks cartoon of the same name) decides to go fishing with his dad but needs a worm for bait. The worm has other ideas.



Whoever animated this scene uses little motion lines as the battle carries on.



The Iwerks director tried to get the most he could out of the Cinecolor red/blue pallet. I like the swirls here as the worm laughs.



The worm twirls Tom Thumb in perspective and tosses him into the water.



No animators are credited here; just musical director Carl Stalling, though reader Devon Baxter says Irv Spence is the artist here.

Shell in the Pants, Volume Two

A gag done a lot better in The Three Little Pups (released by MGM in 1953) finds its way into Tex Avery’s final theatrical cartoon Sh-h-h-h-h-h (released by Walter Lantz in 1955).

Reminiscent of Pups, Mr. Twiddle tries to shoot a cannon through an impossibly small hole to get the people in the next room to be quiet. Someone in the other room flips the cannon around.



Twiddle is embarrassed his butt has been blown up and slinks off camera. It’s a variation of a gag Avery used at MGM; in Ventriloquist Cat, the cat uses a mirror to show the audience the damage.



Back to the Pups gag, where Twiddle goes behind a screen to change his pants and he hangs his old ones, with the shell embedded, over the top. Then it’s on to the next scene. In Pups, it’s so much better because it’s the set-up to a topper—there’s a second set of pants with a dog chomped down on them, and the wolf says to the dog “Okay, break it up, son. Joke’s over, y’hear?”



Tex wrote this one himself, and it suffers from a plot that makes no sense. But it gave him a chance to try out some of his old gags and his noise/sleep routine one more time.

Eavesdropping on Jack Benny and Ann Sheridan

Before Ed Sullivan was the stiffest emcee on TV, he was a newspaper columnist in New York. Like a number of columnists, he also had a 15-minute show on the radio. It was on one of these shows in 1932 that he allowed vaudevillian Jack Benny to do some prepared shtick, which resulted in Benny getting his own radio show and making him a fixture on the speaker, and then small screen, until he died in 1974.

Sullivan wrote about Benny periodically; it was a little difficult as they were on different coasts. But Jack found time to visit New York and Sullivan then found time to write about him.

Here’s Sullivan’s New York Daily News column of June 14, 1945. The names should be reasonably familiar. Ann Sheridan and Benny starred together in George Washington Slept Here (1943). Steve Hannegan was her agent and had a relationship on the side with her. Jinx Falkenburg was an actress who toured Europe with Benny in 1943. She had just married Tex McCrory and they had a morning radio show together. I have no idea who Joan Gaines was. Bing Crosby was a former resident of Spokane.

Conversation Piece
(In which a Broadway columnist sets down the approximate conversation, during a night on the town, of some out-of-towners).
Ann Sheridan—Suppose Ingrid Bergman’s passport IS held up, Jack. Then what?
Jack Benny—Well I’ve got eight weeks so we can go ahead, and Ingrid could meet us overseas. She’s only got six weeks anyway, so that would be O. K.
Mrs. Danny Kaye—Danny’s happy. He goes overseas in September.
Jack Benny—Did I show you this wire, Sylvia, that your Danny sent me. Kate Cameron only gave Danny’s picture two and one half stars, so I wired him a reminder that Kate gave my picture three stars. Tonight, I got a return wire, in dialect: "Are you going to latt a leetle think like half a star coming between us, Jackson."
Steve Hannegan—Look, there’s Crosby coming in.
Ann Sheridan—More stars here than we’ve got on the Warner lot.
Director Henry Hathaway—Enough to make a picture—second thought, a picture that would chase people, screaming, from theatres. Remember, Ann, the first picture you made for me at Paramount. Steve, I had Ann, Ida Lupino, Toby Wing and six other starlets in the one flicker. All the way through, one youngster kept giggling and spoiling "takes". Who was it?
Steve Hannegan—Sheridan!! She still giggles.
Bing Crosby—Hello, boys and girls. H’ya. Edward ? Hope tells me you’re hitting that golf ball right on the nose. You going overseas this week, Jack? I’m off to meet Hope for some golf matches
Jack Benny—Was that young Jack Kennedy, the Ambassador's son, talking to you, Bing?
Bing Crosby—Yeah. I didn t tumble to him for a minute. He looks different out of uniform. He's a nice kid. How was the Patton-Doolittle show you did out in Los Angeles, Jack?
Jack Benny—It was really a thrill. The last time I’d seen General Patton was in Sicily.
Joan Gaines—I can't get over the shock of Patton having a high voice. You just don t expect it. He ought to boom.
Jack Benny—When we were parting in Sicily I asked him if there were something I could do for him back home. So he said: "Yes. I’d appreciate it if you’d telephone my sister when you get to the Coast, She’s a great radio fan. Maybe you could invite her to one of your broadcasts. They are nice people, those Pattons.
Mrs. Hathaway—Why’s Ernie Hoist playing the Wedding March? Oh, look, there’s Jinx Falkenberg and her new hubby.
Jack Benny—Understand Hank Greenberg's out of the Air Corps.
Steve Hannegan—Sit here with us, Bing.
Bing Crosby—Thank you, my dear fellows, but I'm a-sittin’ with Jinx and the groom, who is a-pickin’ up the check-a.

Girl's voice—Miss Sheridan, could I get your autograph on this menu, please? It's for my brother. He saw you in Burma. Now he's in a hospital, wounded.
Ann Sheridan—Oh, I’m sorry. Give him my very best, won’t you. Here, I’ll say it myself. (She scrawls: "Love, Ann Sheridan ).
Girl's voice—Would you sign it, too, Mr. Benny?
Second girl's voice—There, you see. When Ann Sheridan signed that autograph, did you notice her ring hand. That’s a solid gold wedding band soldered to that other ring. I’ll just bet they’re married. Jack Benny—I love New York. I wish I could spend a year here.
Mrs. Danny Kaye—All you've got to do is to make up your mind and do it. Danny’s going to come back to N. Y. next year maybe play an engagement at the Waldorf, or do a show.
Henry Hathaway—Why a night club even though it's the Waldorf?
Mrs. Danny Kaye—It’s the greatest place to break in new routines.
Jack Benny—I’ve brought along two fiddles. Maybe I could play the Waldorf, Steve?
Steve Hannegan—By the way, Jack, did you notice that the revised Hooper made you No. 1 man on the Pacific Coast?
Ann Sheridan—Wonder what my Hooper is at Warner’s?
Steve Hannegan—Quiet-t-t.
Henry Hathaway—I don’t know about the rest of you, but the Hathaways are country folks. We’re going home.
Jack Benny—Me, too. Waiter, may I have the—what. Oh-h-h. Mr. Hannegan paid the check. That’s good, that’s fine!