They DID Love Him

It started with Rochester singing “Blues in the Night,” and when he got to the line “From Memphis to St. Joe,” Jack Benny interrupted with a wistful comment about how they loved him there in the vaudeville days.

From that, Benny’s writers blew it up into a running gag. It was supposed to culminate with an appearance show in the Missouri city in March 1943 but Jack became seriously ill, postponed the trip and remained off the air for five weeks to recover.

Some people in St. Joseph said the planned trip was all a hoax, but the local paper put them in their place on December 26, 1944 by revealing Benny would be coming, doing a number of shows and taking part in community events.

It’s only appropriate on Jack Benny’s latest 39th birthday that we re-live some of that trip to the city where they loved him. It was front page news for several days—the News Press was a big Benny booster. This is the main story from February 17, 1945; the Benny gang had arrived two days earlier. Among a number of things, the city celebrated his birthday. Unfortunately, we cannot post the paper’s photos.

Benny Luncheon Hilarious With Star in Fine Fettle
By RUTH BELL
"In my whole career in the show business, including my home town of Waukegan and shows for the men overseas, I've never had a reception as great as the one St. Joseph has given me and all of my troupe," said Jack (They Love Me in St. Joe) Benny, radio and screen star, at the Chamber of Commerce luncheon in honour of him and his company yesterday in the Crystal room of the Hotel Robidoux.
He said it seriously and sincerely.
For the most part, the luncheon program was an hilarious one, with wisecracks cropping here and there, but there was an underlying sincerity of fellowship and friendliness between guests and hosts, A good time was had by all.
Entire Troupe Here.
Jane Wyman, Hollywood motion picture star, whom St. Joseph claims as its own, and who is to be a guest on the Benny broadcast from the Municipal Auditorium tomorrow night, was one of the honored guests at the luncheon.
The whole Benny troupe was there, including Mary Livingstone, Jack's wife; Rochester (Eddie Anderson); Phil Harris, orchestra leader; Larry Stevens, soloist; Don Wilson, announcer, and Mrs. Anderson, who gets Rochester to broadcasts on time. Also at the speakers' table were David W. Hopkins, toastmaster; Mayor Phil J. Welch; Russell E. Wales, president of the Chamber of Commerce; Miss Pearl McClurg, president of the women's division of the Chamber of Commerce; Henry D. Bradley, E. A. Prinz and Sheriff Gus Hillix.
St Joseph presented its own "Oscar" to Jack Benny, a miniature bronze statue of the Pony Express monument, bearing an inscription naming Jack as the city’s choice for the No. 1 spot in radio, stage and screen roles.
Gift to Miss Wyman.
A memento of the occasion to Jane Wyman from St. Joseph was a silver engraving of Lover's Lane, on which there is a portion of the famous poem by Eugene Field. In a brief acceptance speech, Miss Wyman thanked St. Joseph for its overwhelming reception, and spoke of her remark at a club meeting Thursday about the beautiful sun the Chamber of Commerce had produced for her arrival.
“But what I want to know is,” she asked, “what happened to it?" As the orchestra played “Let Me Call You Sweetheart,” drapes and screens were pulled aside on the stage, immediately in back of the speakers' table, revealing a huge six-tiered birthday cake, bearing the lettering, "Happy Birthday Jack Benny, We Love You in St Joe."
That Question of Age.
"Some people think Feb. 14 is Valentine's day," said Mr. Hopkins. "But others know what the day really is. It's Jack Benny's birthday, but we're celebrating it two days late."
"Hope there aren't too many candles." cracked Jack, who insisted on his nation-wide broadcast last Sunday that he was only 36.
Jack took off his horn rimmed glasses (which he maintains he wears only because they look smart), stuck his finger on the icing and licked it. Mary Livingstone did the same. Because she's Jack's wife she got by with it.

Message from Truman.
Messages were read from several persons who were unable to be in St. Joseph for the luncheon. From Vice-President Harry S. Truman came the message, "Tell Jack it's too bad he can't have his Washington accompanist for the broadcast, but maybe Harris can mix things up just as well." (The Benny troupe had been in Washington for the President's birthday.)
There were welcome to Missouri messages from Governor Phil M. Donnelly, and from Senator Frank Briggs, and one from Walter Winchell saying, "Don't ask Benny for blood, but maybe one of those pints will do him good."
A message was read from the chairman of the American Red Cross, expressing the deep appreciation of the organization to the people of St. Joseph and nearby territory in donating to the blood bank this week and previous times. Jack himself was a donor yesterday, and tickets for the two shows Sunday night at the Auditorium have been given to blood donors.
Can't Forget Allen.
The huge gold key to the city of St. Joseph was given to Jack by Mayor Phil J. Welch, who said: "I've lived here all my life, and only one other time has there been such an occasion as this, that was in 1918, the year Fred Allen came to town.
To extend the welcome from outside the city limit, and give Jack further authority, Sheriff Gus Hillix pinned a deputy sheriff's badge on him.
“Gosh,” quipped Jack, “I ought to be able to turn all these things in for a little cash!”
Following his formal introduction by Mr. Hopkins, Jack had his say:
“Ladies and gentlemen, and all the folks who love me here in St. Joe. I was very happy to hear the mayor say a few words a while ago. You know we're planning on using him on our broadcast Sunday night, and I wanted to hear his speaking voice.
“I can understand the governor of Missouri not being here, and Vice-President Truman's absence but why President Roosevelt is not here is inexcusable. We're having a wonderful stay. Even the food is good, which is unusual at a banquet. I've excused them for not having Lucky Strikes, but for Old times' sake, I do think they could have had Jell-O for dessert!
Things In Common.
“If the people or Waukegan knew about this big reception they'd be sore. Oh, Waukegan is like St Jo. St. Jo is Waukegan with people. We have many things in Waukegan like St Joseph. We have lover's lanes, but of course, they're called by different names. We haven't a Jesse James—but I have an uncle. It costs a quarter to see his house. Of course he's still living.
"I can remember this old Rob-your-dough, I mean Robidoux Hotel. I looked through the register. I've seen lots of hotel registers with 'John Smith and wife,' but this is the first place I ever have seen 'John Smith and Pocahontas.'
"Reminiscing about a visit here 30 years ago, when he played either at the Electric or the Crystal, he's still not sure which, Jack said: "I was a violinist in those days, and a good one, too. I lived here at this hotel at that time. Yes, 30 years ago. Let's see, 30 from 36—well, I was a child prodigy!"
President Is Finicky.
The Benny troupe is on its last lap of a March of Dimes and service camp tour. The trip to Washington, to appear for the President's birthday celebration was sudden. Jack said, and he'd sent his clothes on to New York.
“So when I was in Chicago, I bought Montgomery, Roosevelt & Ward,” he said. “I used that gag in Washington and the President said, ‘No, it’s Roosevelt Montgomery Ward.’ I tried to get a room in Washington and pleaded and pleaded for one. ‘Look, I'm Jack Benny, I have to have a room,’ I told the desk clerk at one of the hotels. ‘I don't care if you're Rochester, we're loaded,’ he told me. I told him I was doing a show for the President. Finally he let me sign the register. And instead of a key to my room—I hate to tell you—but he gave me a nickel! Why I wouldn't sleep on a streetcar for a million dollars!"
Jack spoke of the time it takes to prepare their 17-minute program on the air each Sunday night, and introduced all of the group and his staff of writers. The luncheon party, attended by more than 200 persons, broke up jovially as girls from the high schools and Junior College, dressed in jeans and bright shirts, ran through the crowd calling "Extra, Extra" and passing out eopies of The Benny Bugle.
Many Are Disappointed.
Many persons in St. Joseph, including every school child in the city, were disappointed when the parade scheduled for noon yesterday was called off because of the snow. Public schools were to have been dismissed in time for the parade, but those plans were canceled at 9 o'clock in the morning. Jack was just as disappointed as the "kids" and said, "I wanted to see everyone, meet everyone and let them know that while I have said they love me in St. Joe, I love them even more."

BENNY BITS

Sh! Girls and boys! Alice Faye, motion picture actress, is in town. But she’s just here to be with her husband-Phil Harris—leader of the orchestra on the Jack Benny program. Tired from traveling, she rested yesterday and didn't appear at the testimonial luncheon.
— — —
The Benny troupe will leave St. Joseph earlier Monday than had at first been anticipated. The plan is to leave at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Because of the earlier departure, a dinner scheduled by the Chamber of Commerce for Monday evening has been changed to luncheon at noon at Hotel Robidoux.
— — —
Rochester and his wife are to make an appearance Monday morning at the Bartlett High School.
— — —
Larry Stevens, soloist, is to sing at the Sunday morning service at Francis Street Methodist Church Mary Livingstone "discovered" him at a gas filling station. He has been honorably discharged from the Army air forces.
— — —
Jack and Mary have been married for 18 years.
— — —
Don Wilson has been announcer with the Jack Benny program for 11 years.
— — —
Jack says Phil Harris doesn't know anything about leading an orchestra, he just wields the baton. And when the orchestra stops playing, he quits too. The reason he is an orchestra leader, Jack explains, is because he used to be a drummer but lost one stick.
— — —
Rochester has put away that lovely miniature electric train set you may have seen in a technicolor "short" he made. It's put away until after the war because he can't get equipment he said. No priority.
— — —
The 6 o'clock broadcast of the Jack Benny show, will be picked up by radio and rebroadcast from the stage of the Missouri Theater tomorrow, Irwin Dubinsky, manager of the theater, said yesterday. In order to carry the Benny show, the theater schedule has been rearranged and doors will be opened at 12:30 o'clock, half an hour earlier than usual.

We’ll have a post-script next week.

The Search For Norman Spencer

Trying to dig up information about animated cartoons decades after the fact is like solving a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces have to fit. Sometimes you don’t have all the pieces. When they do fit, it’s quite satisfying.

This brings us to Norman Spencer.

Fans of Warner Bros. cartoons will recognise Spencer as being responsible for (some of) the musical scores before Carl Stalling arrived in 1936. We’re fortunate Stalling was interviewed several times before his death so we know something about him.

But what about Norman Spencer? Who was he?

Well, he wasn’t Norman Spencer. At birth, anyway. This may get a little convoluted, but let’s put the pieces together.

We will start with information previously recorded on this blog. Ralph Wilk’s column in the Film Daily of April 29, 1936 states:

Norman Spencer, composer and director of music for the “Looney Tunes” and “Merrie Melodies” cartoons being produced by Leon Schlesinger, has signed a new, three-year contract. His son, Norman, Jr., handles the musical arrangements for the series.

Okay. We know Spencer has a son. Now piece number two. A newspaper search of Spencer’s son reveals a story about Norman, Jr.’s wedding. The Evening Citizen News told Los Angeles on August 5, 1938:

Newlyweds to Live In New York City
Mr. and Mrs. Norman Spencer Jr. (Emilie Bean) today were on their way east with the intention of making their home in New York City. The Rev. E. S. Gates solemnized their marriage Wednesday afternoon in the Little Chapel of the Dawn at Santa Monica.
The ceremony was a private one and was followed by a family dinner at the Beverly-Wilshire Hotel. Those present were the bride's parents, Mr. and Mrs. E.H. Willumsen of Beverly Hills, the bridegroom’s mother, Mrs. Leona Spencer, and Mrs. A. Clerici, the bride's grandmother.
Mrs. Spencer graduated from the Beverly Hills High School. Mr. Spencer, a graduate of the Homer Grunn Conservatory of Music, will assist his father, Norman Spencer, Sr., in radio work.

Now we know the name of Spencer’s wife and daughter-in-law. To FamilySearch.org we go. Nothing about either Spencer, Jr. or Leona Spencer. But now we know his daughter-in-law’s maiden name. Aha! A match. The marriage license discloses Norman Spencer is a stage name.



Norman Spencer is, in reality, Norman Spencer Matthews. And another search of the same site shows us he was born in Minneapolis on March 3, 1891. Now that we have his real name, we can tiny trace a bit of his non-musical career.



At the age of 19, he married an 18-year-old daughter of a woman running the Lorraine Hotel in Salt Lake City, giving his address as Los Angeles. I’ve found no story on the wedding, but he was revealed in 1911 as a piano player in Salt Lake papers covering a trial involving his underage sister-in-law being held against her will by another woman in a “lewd house,” as one paper put it.

Norman Jr. was born in Los Angeles in 1912; the family was at 907 East 6th Street. A squib by Harry Sloan in Billboard of August 15, 1914 says “Norman Matthews has taken the piano at the Ship Café [in Venice, California]. A good man for a good job.”

In 1916, the San Francisco city directory shows Spencer and his wife living there. A story in the Chronicle of April 2, 1916 talks about Kids Day at Golden Gate Park and one of the performers “Norman Matthews, the latter being a pianist as well as a vocal expert.” His World War One draft card in 1917:



Let’s get into Spencer’s musical career, because it grew in fits and starts. One thing we do not know is why he dropped his last name professionally at this point.

He wrote a tune with Henry Williams called “Slow and Easy” in 1919 which was a hit. It was plugged all across the U.S. in ads for piano rolls. The following year, music publisher Daniels & Wilson stated its catalogue included Spencer’s numbers (Buddy De Sylva and Byron Gay were represented; their songs appeared in Warners cartoons of the 1930s).

Spencer spent two months in New York composing the score for “Gre-Na-Da” (Variety, April 2, 1920), returning to the Bay Area but eventually heading back to Big Town. A story in Variety of April 8, 1921 says he was appearing at the Moulin Rouge. He tried to break onto the Great White Way, as we see in various trade and regular publications, including the San Francisco Chronicle, June 12, 1921:

Frank Bacon, star and author of the three-year dramatic success, “Lightnin’,” is collaborating with Milt Hagen, Joe McKiernan and Norman Spencer—all of San Francisco—on a new operetta to be produced in New York next season.
The title of the play is “Tahoe.” Milt Hagen, collaborator with Frank Bacon on the libretto, is a member of the Press Club of San Francisco and is a graduate of Stanford University, where he wrote many plays, such as “Biff! Bang! Bullsheveck!”, “The College Prince,” etc. He was also editor of the Chaparral at Stanford. Joe McKiernan and Norman Spencer are writers of some of New York’s greatest hit songs, such as “Cuban Moon,” “Don’t Take Away Those Blues,” “New and Then,” etc.

Spencer seems to have been back and forth across the country during the ‘20s. A fascinating story involves a party in 1925 for actor Sam Allen, a friend of the aforementioned Frank Bacon. The Los Angeles Times of November 8th reports the people who took part in the merry entertainment were “Bernard Brown’s jazz orchestra, composed of Bernard Brown, Norman Spencer and Scotty Denton.” I think it’s safe to assume they’re Schlesinger’s Norman Spencer and Bernard Brown.

Now comes the Warner Bros. connection. Variety of December 28, 1928 reported Warners was starting production of shorts at the old Vitagraph studios in Brooklyn. Departments were being set up, including “music captained by Norman Spencer, who assisted Louis Silvers on the coast.” Billboard added the next day “He is a well-known musician and composer and for many years was on the vaudeville stage. He played in local orchestras while getting his musical education.” The January 16, 1929 Variety stated Vitaphone had seven-piece orchestra under Spencer.

Flatbush didn’t keep Spencer for long. He return to Los Angeles to take charge of Warners’ new popular music department (Variety, January 30, 1929). Things changed quickly. Ray Perkins was placed in charge (Los Angeles Times, February 22). Spencer and Herman Ruby were assigned to compose the music for Colleen Moore’s first talkie, Smiling Irish Eyes. The tunes were published by Witmark.

Spencer’s piano playing (like Stalling’s on cartoons for Disney) could be heard on the early talkies; he accompanied Eddie Buzzell in Little Johnny Jones (Billboard, August 17, 1929).

Spencer was put in charge of the First National studio chorus. The Los Angeles Times of February 23, 1930:

At present they are rehearsing for “Mlle. Modiste,” Victor Herbert’s operetta soon to start filming.
The chorus will be in charge of Norman Spencer, who has been directing the studio’s choral numbers, and who is in charge of all voice tests. Spencer selected the thirty-two members from more than 5000 applicants. They are of all types and ages as they will frequently be called upon to appear in minor roles.
Every one of them, according to Spencer, knows three languages well, and has a knowledge of five.

Whether Spencer fell out of favour at Warners is unclear. On Song of the Flame, he assisted Ernest Grooney who was in charge of the choruses (Plainfield Courier-News, August 8, 1930). Motion Picture News of September 24, 1931 refers to a male trio in the Vitaphone short Gates of Happiness as being the Norman Spencer Singers.

Then we hear no more of Spencer until Leon Schlesinger entered the picture. But it had nothing to do with cartoons. Leon was testing out a new venture. The Hollywood Reporter of Nov. 20, 1931:

Arrangements to score features for independent producers have been made by Leon Schlesinger, of the Pacific Title and Art Studios. He has engaged Bernard Brown as head of the technical department, and Norman Spencer to run the musical branch. The recording will be RCA-Photophone.
The studio will have a 25-piece orchestra which will score original music, thereby saving the producer the usual fee for clearing music. Also all trailers will be accompany by the orchestra and have sound effects.

How long the venture lasted is unclear, but we find Spencer and Brown together in another company. Film Daily of February 25, 1933:

Norman Spencer and George Waggner of Brown, Spencer and Associates, have just finished six songs for the next W.T. Lackey production, “False Fronts.” Spencer was with Warner Bros. for eight years while Waggner has written several song hits.

While this was going on, Leon Schlesinger was negotiating a renewal deal for cartoons with Warner Bros.—without the services of the Harman-Ising studio. Leon decided to build his own animation operation. Film Daily of June 10, 1933 stated Schlesinger had hired his staff, with Brown to head the sound department and Spencer to head the music department. Whether Brown actually did any composing is debatable. According to Mike Barrier’s book “Hollywood Cartoons,” he was also working in sound engineering on the main Warners lot. And I defy anyone to outline the difference in scores in cartoons where Brown has a credit and Spencer has a credit. The credits could have been alternating by contractual agreement, but that’s speculation on my part, based on an interview Friz Freleng had with Jerry Beck that Brown’s rare cartoon directorial credits were because of studio policy.

This brings up to the Wilks story that opened this post. That three-year contract signed at the end of April 1936 didn’t last long. Film Daily of August 3rd reported Carl Stalling had been hired to replace Spencer, whom it said had “resigned.” Mike Barrier’s fine interview with Stalling, published in Funnyworld 13 four decades ago, has the infamous quote about Spencer and Schlesinger having differences: “I don't know what the trouble was about, but the inside of the music room desk was all cluttered with empty whiskey bottles.”

If you ever read or hear Mel Blanc tells the story of him seeing Spencer week after week to get a job, then coming in one week and learning Spencer had “died,” Mel’s telling a fish story. At first, he never mentioned a death but he must have realised it was a better story if he did. Spencer was very much alive and next surfaced at Warner Bros. radio station KFWB. He hosted a show on Monday nights from 8:30 to 9 called “Can You Write a Song.” It began on October 4, 1937 (Radio Daily, Sept. 29, 1937) with Harry Warren and Al Dubin as the first guests. It awarded cash prizes to amateur songwriters. The show aired on other California stations as well. This is the programme Norman Jr. was assisting on.

Despite critical praise, the show left the air less than two months later. No sponsor. (Hollywood Reporter, Nov. 24, 1937). Then Spencer ended up in court, where he won ownership of the show after a lawsuit by two men claiming a half interest in it and its copyright (Broadcaster, Feb. 10, 1938).

Spencer moved to New York City and took his music-writing show concept with him. “The Musical Night Court of the Air” was its new title, starring “judge” Norman Spencer. It began life on the small WVFW in Brooklyn on November 29, 1938, and moved to WINS New York on Monday nights at 7 p.m. by April 1939.

Norman Spencer Matthews died in New York on February 15, 1940. He was 48. Municipal death records give his occupation as “music publisher” living at 246 West 70th Street in Manhattan. Unfortunately, the site gives no cause of death and even odder, there is no obituary in any of the New York newspapers I have looked through.

As a postscript, Spencer’s widow and son’s family moved back to California. Spencer Jr.’s son, named after his grandfather, died when he was six days old. Leona Hannah Matthews passed away in Los Angeles on February 12, 1980. Likely no one ever recorded her thoughts on her late husband’s musical career.

Love Woody Woodpecker

Ed Love has some strong poses throughout Drooler's Delight (1949), the last cartoon he made for Walter Lantz, and the last before the studio closed for well over a year. Director Dick Lundy holds the poses, too. The first drawing is on screen for 12 frames, the second for 15, the third for 13 and the last for 10 frames.



Whether his MGM assistant, Stod Herbert, was at Lantz with him, I don’t know. Love is credited with animating the whole cartoon.

Let’s give an example of getting from one pose to another. Here are the first two poses and the in-betweens. All but the last in-between are shot on ones; the last is on two frames.



This was the last release for United Artists, the last time Bugs Hardaway voiced Woody and the last time Lionel Stander growled in a Lantz cartoon. Lundy and writer Heck Allen left behind some work that was picked up when the studio re-opened with a new contract with Universal-International. Background artist Fred Brunish was the only returnee.

No Phone-y Ending

A silhouette ends Hold the Wire, a 1936 Fleischer cartoon where the real highlight is warped wooden homes in the background drawings.




Dave Fleischer fits in a gag at the iris out. See the little lines coming from the bottom left plug? The Popeye-Bluto fight earlier in the cartoon has ripped out all the phone lines in the neighbourhood, and we can hear people calling for the operator and calling “Hello?”



Willard Bowsky and Orestes Calpini get animation credits.

Mamie

In the 1950s, there seems to have been a pecking order when it came to blonde starlets. Marilyn Monroe was at the top—waaaaay at the top—followed by Jayne Mansfield, and then followed by Mamie Van Doren.

All three had to overcome typecasting and a perception by some in the public they were bimbos. They certainly were not.

Mamie Van Doren wasn’t helped with her relationship with Dodgers pitcher and night carouser Bo Belinsky, the man with the “million dollar arm and a 10-cent brain” as someone in baseball once put it.

1963 wasn’t altogether the best year for Van Doren. She was having success on stage, but a movie casting went sour and she and Belinsky kept having relationship problems.

Columnist Vernon Scott interviewed Van Doren a number of times over the years. He did it twice in 1963. First up is this story from January 23rd. She got irked because of Mansfield’s place in the pecking order, which translated into cash. The movie was eventually named Promises.... Promises!.

Pay Troubles Keep Jayne, Mamie From Same Film
By VERNON SCOTT
UP-International
HOLLYWOOD — Amid lamentations from girl watchers it was sadly announced this week that Jayne Mansfield and Mamie Van Doren will not costar in a new motion picture.
Nature lovers and students of the body beautiful (blonde sex siren division) must forego this doubleheader.
It appears that Mamie and Jayne were to share billing in a dandy little epic titled "Promise Her Anything" until Mamie discovered Jayne was getting preferential treatment in the money department.
Advised that La Mansfield was grabbing off 2 1/2 per cent more of the profits, Mamie stamped her pretty little foot and quit cold.
There is nothing personal in this off-camera set-to, but it just goes to show that moola is thicker than peroxide, and the picture (produced by actor Tommy Noonan), will go on without Mamie.
"I have nothing against Jayne at all," said the Van Doren girl. "We've met several times and I like Jayne very much.
"I'm sorry we won't be making the picture together because the two of us would have been very good in the roles. I was to play a smart blonde and Jayne a dumb blonde. The parts were absolutely equal."
Jayne was just as sweet as Mamie: "I'm disappointed we won't be working together. Mamie would have been a big plus in the picture. But if she was unhappy with the arrangements I certainly understand why she didn't accept the role."
The difference between the two girls at this moment is that Mansfield will pick up $50,000 cash for her efforts while Mamie blew the same amount with her walkout.
"That's a lot of money," Mamie exclaimed. "But I'll make up for it in my night club act. I'm leaving for Australia for two weeks in a club down there starting later this month."
Both actresses are noted for ample endowments in the torso department, particularly in the upper regions just south of the neckline. Doubtless comparisons would have been made had they costarred.
Other than their obvious physical charms, neither girl feels they have much in common. Mamie put it this way:
"We're both actresses, we're both blondes and we play sultry parts in movies. Outside of that we aren't at all alike. Certainly our personal lives are very different."
Both girls sense the irresistible effect their combined talents would have on male moviegoers. In their own way these two buxom beauties would make the finals of the Miss America contest look like child's play.
"Td love to work with Jayne sometime in the future," Mamie said. "I think it would be fun."
Said Jayne: "It would be wonderful if another picture came along that would be good for both of us."
Take heart, girl watchers, a Mansfield-Van Doren faceoff yet may enrich your lives.

Mansfield and Van Doren did appear together in the independent film The Las Vegas Hillbillys (evidently the title was spelled by some mountain yokel) starring Ferlin Husky and the music of Dean Elliott of Chuck Jones Tom and Jerry fame (Marvin Miller was signed to do narration, but it didn’t make the finished film).

This brings us to our second story of 1963, a story of love going wrong. It appeared in papers on July 25th.

Mamie Van Doren Looking For Another Boyfriend
By VERNON SCOTT
HOLLYWOOD (UPI) - Mamie Van Doren returned to movieland this week broken hearted, 10 pounds underweight and unengaged.
To hear Mamie tell it, her break-up with sometime baseball pitcher Bo Belinsky is the greatest tragedy to befall a couple since Romeo and Juliet.
She managed to keep her emotions under control, however, saying, "I really was in love with Bo, but no one took us seriously because we were engaged on April Fool's Day. I'm still not over Bo, but the only way to forget a man is to find another one."
Dreams Anew
Mamie, throwing caution to the wind, ordered a glass of milk on the rocks (to gain back some of the lost pounds) and dreamed aloud about a new beau, as opposed to the old Bo.
"I've been divorced five years now (from bandleader Ray Anthony) and it's time for me to think about settling down again," she said.
"The kind of guy I want has to be an outdoorsman; a professional athlete would be perfect. I wouldn't want him to drink or be a nightclub habitue.
"I don't care about his age. He could be anywhere between 18 and 80 as long as he's healthy and likes to swing.
"Maybe a lifeguard would be nice, but I guess they don't have much money. It would help if the guy is rich, too. One thing for sure, he can't be an actor or a musician."
Mamie's man hunt is necessary, she says, to fill the void left by Belinsky.
"Everything was all right between us when I left two months ago to tour the East Coast in 'Silk Stockings'," Mamie said.
"But he thought I was going out with other men. It wasn't true, but I couldn't convince him.
"I may never find another man like Bo. Good left-handed pitchers are very rare you know. I used to go to the ballpark to watch him pitch, and it was a wonderful thing to see—all grace and rhythm."
Hitters Graceful Too
Mamie failed to note that the hitters were graceful too against Belinsky. When the Los Angeles Angels uncoupled Bo his record was one win against seven losses. "Just the same, Bo was my kind of man because he was a daredevil," she pouted. "I like daredevils.
"My next boyfriend will have to be willing to take chances too. And he'll have to be an American. I've dated enough foreigners to last me a lifetime."
Mamie plans to head for personal appearances in Australia this summer and to do a little husband hunting on the side.
"You can never tell where your next boyfriend will come from," she concluded. "A girl has to keep her eyes open every minute."

There’s something Monroe, Mansfield and Van Doren have in common. They all appeared on the Jack Benny TV show. You can be sure Jack hired intelligent people, not bubbleheads.

Marilyn Monroe was 36 when she died. Jayne Mansfield was 34. Mamie Van Doren has just turned 90. Her Untamed Youth, High School Confidential and Sex Kitten Goes to College days are long gone but she’s still around to enjoy some fun cult classic films she starred in like the rest of us.

Not a Dog and Tree Gag

When Tex Avery had a dog standing next to a tree, it was usually a gag where the dog needs to ... well, we needn't get into that. Ah, but there was a different dog-tree routine in one of his cartoons.

Screwy Squirrel pulls off the old “move-the-hole” gag in his debut, Screwball Squirrel (1944). Naturally, Meathead the dog dives toward the hole that Screwy dove into—but it’s not there now.



There are some frames of solid colour in between drawings to emphasize the impact, which has left an impression of Meathead’s head in a tree—with Meathead in it. The dog stretches his head back to snap it out of the tree. The chase continues.



The animators are Preston Blair, Ed Love and Ray Abrams. Heck Allen assisted with gags and Johnny Johnson is the background artist.

An Unmerrie Melodie

Leon Schlesinger’s cartoon studio was a mess not long after it opened in 1933. Leon hired animators Jack King and Tom Palmer from Disney, and appointed Palmer the studio’s production manager.

Palmer was a disaster. He got a supervision credit on two cartoons and was gone by the fall. The first was rejected by Warners until it was punched up. Palmer’s departure set up a bit of a revolving door on supervision credits before Schlesinger wised up and made Friz Freleng a director along with King.

Before that happened cartoons were “supervised” by Earl Duvall, a former Disneyite, and Bernard Brown. Friz Freleng told Jerry Beck in Animato! 18 published in Spring 1989 about Brown’s “supervision”: “That was just pure policy. He was a sound man. I don’t think Leon even knew what a director did.”

This brings us to Pettin’ in the Park, a 1934 release (copyrighted in 1933) that Brown is credited with overseeing. It’s maybe the most disjointed cartoon ever released by the studio.

The short starts off with a cop, a maid, a baby in a stroller and a guy in a car. We hear the title song. Then they all disappear. The story (if you want to call it that) switches to a penguin that had been running around in the first half of the short, and a race at an annual winter carnival that’s for birds only.

The penguin is in a bathtub that gets stuck in the mud, which is pumped all over some geese, along with some other items that must have been buried in the goo.



The geese chase the penguins.



The penguin gets caught in a turnstile for a bit, but is thrown clear. The geese get caught in it and their feathers fly off. They are thrown backward and land with their heads knotted together. Some climax, huh?



The cartoon ends with the penguin waving at the audience—twice. Once during the actual short and then again in front of the end title card. So long, folks! And not a moment too soon. Get Friz in here, quick!



Jack King and Bob Clampett get animation credits; Clampett’s first. I can’t help but think that Clampett suggested some gags, like the winged foot statue that reads “Athlete’s Foot.” Brown’s sound mix is atrocious on this; some of the dialogue is drowned out by Norman Spencer’s score.

Jack Benny's Temporary, Embarrassed Writer

Many a theatre and concert hall were saved in North America because of fund-raisers featuring that not-quite violin virtuoso, Jack Benny. One of them is the Orpheum Theatre in Vancouver, the "new" Orpheum where he appeared in 1928 (he also played at the "old" Orpheum, torn down decades ago.)

Jack’s efforts to help preserve the 1927 structure prompted a reminiscence by Vancouver Sun columnist Jack Wasserman. He was something that doesn’t exist in Vancouver any more. He was the night-life reporter. The supper clubs with their big-name entertainment are long gone from the city. But there was an era where people in Vancouver didn’t have to go to Vegas to see Ella Fitzgerald, Tony Bennett or Bobby Darin. They could head downtown to the Cave or Isy’s and watch them. A little sign memorialising Wasserman survives the rain at Georgia and Hornby not far from the ghosts of his night haunts.

Here’s his column from April 5, 1974, about six months before Jack died.

THE PATTER OF LITTLE FETES — For more than 20 years I've been brooding about the occasion when Jack Benny embarrassed the dickens out of me in a small cottage on the General Studios lot in Hollywood. His action, in fact, shoved my career in a totally different direction. I've finally stopped blushing but I still occasionally plot revenge. Jack couldn't possibly realize what happened and I've never discussed it until now.
A couple of weeks after this column began on a daily basis, the boss called me in and told me was going to Portland. It was a rainy day in May, and even Portland sounded like a wild trip. It was carefully explained that Jack Benny was bringing a big show to the old Denman Auditorium. In addition to Benny, there would be Gisele MacKenzie (Canada's own!) and The Will Mastin Trio, starring Sammy Davis Jr., who might its well have been Vancouver's own. The instructions were to interview the stars, cover the show, file a story and split.
The plane slopped in Seattle and Jack Benny got on. Les Wedman worked for the rival Province in those days. We introduced ourselves to Benny and his long-time associate, Irving Fein, on the aircraft. When we arrived in Portland, there was a big civic greeting and a police escort into town. Benny insisted that we had to ride with him. I don't know about Les, but it was my first time in an open convertible with a siren-shrieking motorcycle escort.
Because of the flukey meeting aboard the airplane, we wound up being greeted in Portland as part of Jack Benny's group. As I was to learn later, Jack is totally uncomplicated in his personal relationships. Certainly we would be doing some stories that meant publicity for his show. But Jack Benny is a star of the first magnitude. He didn't have to adopt us, but he did. It was Les' misfortune that he had to return to Vancouver late the following day. But I'd recently graduated to the columnist racket. I could go anywhere as long as I managed to get a column back to the news desk before morning.
For the entire week, I was included "in." When Portland big shots and political leaders entertained for Jack, I was automatically invited. It wasn't hard to get copy. Although Sammy Davis was well known in Vancouver from his Beacon-Palomar-Commodore days, he was only then reaching national prominence with a hit record called Hey There. I think he secretly suspected that The Sun had assigned a columnist to cover his triumphant return to the territory. "Wait until we get to Vancouver," he announced all over Portland, "I'm the mayor of that town."
Anyhow, I finally limped back to Vancouver a day ahead of the Benny road company. Then they arrived and it began again. By now, Mary Livingstone had flown up from Hollywood to join Jack because she has relatives in Seattle and Vancouver. Although Jack had a connection with Chrysler and there was a fleet of Imperials waiting to drive him where ever he wished to go, he'd look around and say, "Never mind, Jack will drive us." And he and Mary went everywhere in my beat-up Ford. There were days at the races, and the night at the old Stanley Park Armories when they made Jack an honorary Irish Fusilier.
Jack looked around the rickety old building, since destroyed by fire, and announced, "Imagine. I am now a star of stage, screen, radio AND GARAGES!"
When the group moved on to play a week in Seattle, the phone rang every day and when I picked it up I'd get a solo of Love in Bloom long distance and an invitation to a party. So, on the next weekend, I wound up in Seattle. All of which was pretty heady stuff for a neophyte columnist.
Several weeks after the tour, I received a small package in the mail. It was from Hollywood and it contained a gold money clip, engraved, "From Jack Benny." I wrote back, "I want to thank you for two things; one for remembering me, and two, for assuming that I have money."
Many months passed and I was in L.A. on vacation when I ran into Irving Fein, Jack's close friend and associate. Although I'd been on the entertainment beat for several years I've never made it a practice to look up people I've interviewed who generally conclude with an entreaty to "please phone when you get to Hollywood." But Irving insisted. And once more I was included "in."
Only these were working days. Jack was still doing a weekly radio show and a weekly TV show. I was privileged to watch an entire TV show take shape, from the writing session that started it all, to the final wrap-up. And that's when it all happened, the embarrassment I mentioned earlier. Still a neophyte, I was in a room with one of the world's top funnymen and his four writers, at that time considered to be the absolute tops in the trade.
It was a rare privilege and I was taking it all in as the situations and gags were honed into a hilarious script. Suddenly Jack looked at me and said, "C'mon, you can join in." Then he turned to his writers and announced that I was a very funny fellow, too, and recounted what he considered to be the priceless gag in my thank-you note. Laugh! I thought they'd never start.
I cringed in the corner, wishing the floor would open up. As I mentioned, it reshaped my career. And that's why I leave all the light humor to Allan Fotheringham.
But I've been plotting, Jack. If you happen to see a streaker run behind you during a solo at tonight's Save The Orpheum concert, well . . .

Selling Corn Toasties, the Cartoon Way

Animated TV commercials, other than those plugging cereals, reached their peak in the mid-1950s but commercials in a cartoon format went back to the pre-network days. In 1941, a cartoon lamb appeared during ads for Botany Mills on the weathercasts of WNBT New York.

Television grew—very slowly at first—after the war years. In July 1947, there were only 12 stations on the air in the U.S.: WNBT, WCBS and WABD in New York; WPTZ in Philadelphia; WTTG and WNBW in Washington; WKGB in Schenectady; WWJ-TV in Detroit; WBKB in Chicago; KSD-TV in St. Louis; W6XAO and KTLA in Los Angeles. WNBW had signed on in late June, KSD first went on the air in February. W9XZV, the Zenith station in Chicago, and W2XJT, radio repairman Bill Still’s station in Jamaica, New York, were conducting occasional test broadcasts but neither became commercial stations.

Live sports events were extremely popular with televiewers in 1947. WCBS aired the Brooklyn Dodgers games and sold time to General Foods. The company want to advertise its Post cereals, and decided to use cartoons to do it. They used a balop, which is kind of like a slide. I don’t believe they were animated.

There were some hurdles to overcome, as reported by Television magazine in its July 1947 issue.

Big problem facing Young & Rubicam was to put across the six' products in the Post's family of cereals.
Best way of solving it, they decided, was to concentrate on one product per game, tying in the entire line at the opening so as to build up overall identification.
Briefly, their present commercial pattern on the Dodger games consists of a singing jingle (live); balop cartoon commercials after the third and seventh innings; product identifying scoreboard between innings; pickup of billboard on field whenever possible; closing commercial and oral plugs throughout the game.
When the season started, CBS had not shut down its studio broadcasting and a pre-game live commercial was given, immediately after the jingle followed by a balop after the fifth. Under revised conditions, live commercials now have to be given in an improvised studio in the control room at the field, using but one camera. Lighting also presented a problem and limited experimentation along the live line.
However, agency has come to the conclusion that the tricks which can be played with balopticans are certainly less expensive and may prove to be better commercials for this type of pick-up. For one thing, the weather cares little for baseball schedules—and rehearsals on a live commercial, only to be rained out, added up to a large chunk out of the budget with nothing to show for it.
Overall aim was to experiment with different commercial approaches with an eye toward the day when the audience would he practically unlimited and they had the same kind of money and the same commercial problems. Because they have the whole game to put the message over, agency feels that hard hitting selling is out-that commercials should be made as palatable as possible.
To achieve overall identification at the opening, a "curtain" with all the Post cereals on it opened to disclose a quartet in baseball uniform, complete with trick gay '90 mustaches, singing a jingle about the Post family of cereals and the game. Curtain closes at the conclusion of the jingle and cut is now made to the field. Quartet is picked up from the studio in the control room at the ballpark. Currently a wall card is used as an opening curtain.
Cartoon Commercials
Cartoons used on the baloptican also have an exaggerated, comic approach. Typical of the types tried the one illustrated is here. Balops formerly came after the fifth inning when the live pre-game commercial was used. Now, however, agency feels that they will get higher identification with balops after the third and seventh innings. Such slides, when handled with a light, amusing touch, sell well and there can always be one slide which will pay off with concentration on the product.

There is an animation connection to this, one discovered by cartoon expert/restorer Devon Baxter in Variety. These commercials were created at the New York studio of Ben Harrison, who had laboured for years at the Charlie Mintz studio, co-directing Krazy Kat cartoons in both the silent and sound eras for release by Columbia. Devon picked up the phone and interviewed Harrison’s daughter. Read his findings in this post.

Stork Eyes

“Have you ever wondered,” as Andy Rooney might have said, “what you can see in cartoons if you watch them watch them frame by frame?”

Here’s an example in Apes of Wrath, a 1959 effort from the Friz Freleng unit at Warners. I like the decision to give the drunken stork pink eyes. But when he hiccoughs, his eyes have more than one pupil.



Art Davis, Gerry Chiniquy and Virgil Ross are the credited animators. Warren Foster, who wrote the story, was hired at Hanna-Barbera four days before this cartoon was released on April 18, 1959. He had been working for John Sutherland Productions since November 1957.