Thoughts Over a Grasshopper

TV workloads. Bob Hope. A new, old violin. Those were some of the topics Jack Benny discussed with syndicated columnist Earl Wilson, who made a trip out to Hollywood. This was the main item in his column in the New York Post of July 21, 1957, which found its way into subscribing papers later.

I wonder how often Jack drank grasshoppers. I don’t think I know anyone who has.

Benny Finds Life Easier
Comedian Goes On His Successful Way
By Earl Wilson
HOLLYWOOD — Jack Benny, natty in shorts, leaned back restfully puffed his cigar millionairishly, and kept quiet for a moment when I tactlessly mentioned that TV's so difficult it’s chasing comedians off the air.
“For me-e-e-e,” he shrugged after an appropriate elapse of time, “it’s easier than radio — maybe because I like it.”
“Oh sure,” I hastily apologized. “You’re doing well and so is Groucho and George Burns.”
“The old guys,” he nodded grimly. “Just us old guys. How about Phil Silvers? Phil will always be good at anything.”
And so I gradually saw that Jack’s denying that TV’s a monster — to him — and that it’s killing off comedians.
“Some of the public is indignant about Sid Caesar going off the air,” I said.
“If the public is so indignant why didn’t it watch him and buy the sponsor’s products?” Jack looked across at me and asked if I wanted a cigar. He was off to buy one. He came back and ordered us both a grasshopper as we sat at a back table. Jack was almost unnoticed.
“The trouble with some comedy shows is that they don’t have any particular characterization.” He sipped the grasshopper. “Just like a soft drink isn’t it?” “I give Bob Hope an awful lot of credit,” he resumed.
“Every time he does a show it’s like a Broadway revue. With me, I’ve always got a lot of things going for me.
“The age, the cheapness, the concerts." He looked up with lively interest. “I did a Carnegie Hall concert and I got two programs out of it!”
It’s so true. I'd seen him do his night club act in Las Vegas at the Flamingo where he had used all those gimmicks.
It’s Easy Money
“Sure I’m working night clubs now,” he’d said. “Where else can you pick up $200 this easy? I asked Al Pavin, the owner here, for $40,000 a week, thinking he would turn me down — and he did. It’s not that I’m stingy. I throw money away — not too far.”
That was the way it went and every one got a howl. Jack was working with four or five jokes which seem to get funnier every time he does them.
“Have you added any new traits to this humorous character, Jack Benny?” I asked.
“Just the concerts. Did you know I bought a real, real good Stradivarius? I imagine it’s worth about $30,000.”
“Do you think you play better with it?”
“Well it sounds better. It’s about 230 years old. I practice with it but I didn’t use it in my night club act, Zeke Benny and his Beverly Hillbillies.”
“I don’t know much about concert music,” I said.
“I don’t either,” Jack said, “but I give concerts anyway.”
That was the subject that interested Jack most.
“You know I practically dropped the fiddle for 40 years,” he said. “Mike Todd said a very sage thing about my fiddling.
“It’s not that I have the gall to play in Carnegie Hall, it’s the pathos that I think I’m good enough when there isn’t a violinist in the orchestra who isn’t 80 times as good as I am.”
Looking excited all over again, he said, “I’m going to play London too — the Royal Festival Hall. I’ll have to make a special trip.”
“Do you keep practicing all the time?”
“That’s the terrible part of it,” Jack shrugged. “I have to practice to play lousy.”

The Way of Peace

Frank Tashlin went from directing Tom and Jerry at the Van Beuren studio to directing Jerry Lewis and Jayne Mansfield, but he made some stops in between—including a couple involving stop-motion films.

Tashlin was hired in 1944 by the Morey-Sutherland studio, which was making stop-motion shorts called “Daffy Ditties.” His stay was short, as he was trying to get his live-action writing career off the ground. During that time, he wrote and directed a religious film called “The Way of Peace.” It was produced for the Lutheran Church and starred puppets along with what looks like live-action stock footage.

Gumby it isn’t. The film is a cautionary tale about humanity destroying the Earth. It’s a far cry from Mansfield/milk-bottle gags.

“American Cinematography” felt the creation of the 20-minute film was worth an explanation and a review was published in its July 1947 edition. This is by Glenn R. Kershner of the American Society of Cinematographers.

“The Way to Peace” is a religious picture produced by Wah Ming Chang and Blanding Sloan of the East West Studio, Los Angeles, for the Wartburg Press of Columbus, Ohio.
The story was written and directed by Frank Tashlin from the original conception and technical supervision of Rev. H. K. Rasbach of Christian Films in connection with the American Lutheran Church. The musical score was composed and conducted by Eddison von Ottenfeld in accompanyment to the narration by Lew Ayres. Blanding Sloan rendered the art direction while Wah Ming Chang conceived the puppet design and accomplished the photography — with a staff to assist both—being Carl Ryan and William King (puppet makers), Wilbur George (set maker), Richard Lord (prop maker), and Gene Warren and Herbert Johnson (animators). The composit of audio-visual mediums were expertly edited to this completed film by Stuart O’Brien. Glen Chang, wife of Mr. Chang, is credited with doing the stills.
The picture, made with miniatures and puppets and taking some eight months to produce, is very interesting and well done. The montages, lighting and lap dissolves are quite perfect. The story is timely and holding. Beginning with the creation of the earth and of human beings, then came a sequence depicting the walls of hate that grew in men’s hearts. This was very well told in a montage of animated blocks and creeping shadows.
Several beautiful scenes portraying the Star in the East and the locale around the birth of Christ, his teachings to the multitudes, crucifixion, etc. . . . but by this time we had almost forgotten that the actors were little puppets and the scenes but little miniatures that would hardly cover the top of a table.
The last sequence of “The Way of Peace” is quite terrifying for it dwells on the modern atomic bomb and the gradual destruction of all mankind, ending up with the earth but a burning mass whirling off into space.
The picture, while religious, is universal, for it does not speak of or show any beliefs, creeds or denominations whatsoever. It is a picture in its entirety for the grown-ups; it has a message against hate for them and the teenagers; but for the smaller children, I feel any father or mother would want to show them the picture minus the atomic sequence, and this much of the picture I think will become a classic to exhibit around Easter and Christmas time.



A short unbylined article on the film in the June 1947 edition of “Educational Screen” magazine had this to say:

The Way of Peace is an 18-minute sound film in color. It was produced by the East-West Studios for the Wartburg Press and is available from their Columbus, Ohio office (57 E. Main St.) Lew Ayres does the narration. A California pastor, Rev. H. K. Rasbach, gets credit for the original idea and gave technical supervision. Frank Tashlin did the writing; Eddison von Ottenfeld composed and directed the music: and Wah Ming Chang and Blanding Sloan were the co-producers.
The story Starts with the Creation, Then sin comes, and man, with his greed and hatreds, shuts God out. As man turns from God, he walks further and further into the shadows. Then Christ comes, and only a part of mankind heeds His call to the Light. Man stumbles on through wars and cruelties, unheeding Christ’s message. The atomic age is ahead. It may be beneficial; it may spell doom. Man can tear down the wall, let in the Light, and be in brotherhood, but will he?

There are no humans in the film, and all the backgrounds are miniatures. Puppets are used. The background music is by an orchestra.

While some of the releases on this film will lead many people to expect more than they should, the film will be generally accepted as useful and as a call to repentance. The dominant note is negative, even to the end when the world is destroyed. It is a film version of hell-fire and damnation.

The utilization of puppets against miniature backgrounds gives a film with little elemental movement in three-fourths of the footage. This is a definite weakness. The animation of some of the puppets tends to lessen, rather than heighten, the illusion of reality. The only way for puppets to get accepted as reality by the mind is for them to keep still!

Basically, the commentary is a sermon. It is well-paced and well-spoken. At times, the music occupies the soundtrack alone and with excellent effect. The Nativity music has great beauty.

While there are certain to be exceptions, most church leaders will consider The Way of Peace a film for young people and adults only.

This short was designed for the educational/religious market but not only did it appear in at least one theatre, it actually debuted on television. It aired on April 6, 1947 on WCBS-TV in New York.

You’ve read about Wartburg Press in Ohio. The Lutherans operate a college in Waverly, Iowa, and its campus paper was The Wartburg Trumpet. It reported on the film in its April 26, 1947 issue:

‘The Way Of Peace’ Has World Premiere In Washington, D. C.
“The Way Of Peace," described as 1947's most unusual religious film, has been produced for the Wartburg Press of the American Lutheran church by notable Hollywood figures and had its world premiere at Constitution hall in Washington, D. C., on April 23.
Presentation there was made in cooperation with the Washington Federation of Churches.
Made in third dimensional animation, “The Way of Peace” employs a unique method of puppetry, enhanced by color photography, to present the story of God and mankind. No humans appear in the picture, which uses only miniature figures and sets.The miniatures were photographed by the stop-motion method, in which only a frame at a time was exposed. This involved the making of more than 30,000 individual pictures, requiring nearly one year of painstaking labor. The story idea was originated by the Rev. H. K. Rasbach, American Lutheran pastor of Fullerton, Calif., who produced the film on the Ames International Luther League convention, "Now Is the Time.” The Wartburg Press agreed to provide financial backing, and work was begun on the film last summer.
On Easter Sunday, the Columbia Broadcasting system televised “The Way of Peace” over its television outlet in New York City.

You can view the film below.

A Charles Mintz Yarn

Margie is sitting on the front steps doing needlepoint in the Columbia/Charles Mintz cartoon Showing Off (1931). I don’t think the cat in this cartoon has a name but it does what you might expect from a cat in real life.

When it sees a ball of yarn, it looks at it, jumps back frightened, then bats it around and rolls around with it.



Unlike your average cat, this one swallows the whole ball. Cut to a close-up of Margie stitching her needlepoint, and the cat’s head comes through the fabric when Margie pulls the needle through.



The usual bunch—Dick Huemer, Art Davis, Sid Marcus and musical director Joe De Nat—appear in the opening credits of this Scrappy cartoon.

Prohibition in Hell

I’m going out on a limb here, but I don’t think a lot of animators liked Prohibition. The exacted their revenge off screen by going to wherever they could get alcohol, and on screen by making cartoons about getting drunk.

In Hell's Fire, a 1934 Ub Iwerks short, Prohibition is depicted as a man being sent to Hell and forced by the Devil to drink.



When Ub Iwerks’ studio wanted to come up with odd designs, they did a good job. Balloonland is a good example and an even better one is Stratos-Fear. Here, Prohibition comes to a stop and the camera pans over to a reddish elephant, a cow on wheels and other visions of his intoxicated imagination.



Then a snake slithers up through the top of his bottle. Prohibition then makes the stock Iwerks moan that is heard in a pile of cartoons.



No one besides Iwerks gets a screen credit for this Cinecolor red-blue toned cartoon, not even musician Carl Stalling.

Horsing Around With Durante

Everybody wants ta get inta de act! Including Jimmy Durante’s parakeet.

United Press International’s Hollywood reporter wrote a three-parter on Schnozz for papers at the end of 1959. It apparently was necessary to employ Durante’s dialect when quoting him. Even when it was Durante’s parakeet quoting Durante.

We’ve posted the other two parts. Here’s the third. It’s funny to read Durante was as quirky at the race track as you might expect.

Variety reported in April 1960 the proposed Frank Capra-Columbia picture on Durante’s life story was dead. The trade paper suggested everyone behind it really weren’t all that enthusiastic to make the movie.

Off-Stage Durante—Final Article: Writer Spends Hectic Day With The Schnozz
(This is the last of three dispatches on the private life of Jimmy Durante. Here's what it's like to spend a day with the colorful comedian).
By VERNON SCOTT
UPI Hollywood Correspondent
HOLLYWOOD (UPI) — Jimmy Durante, bleary-eyed with sleep, staggered from the bedroom of his seven-room house in Beverly Hills dressed in old-fashioned blue wool swimming trunks and a brocade dressing gown.
“How're ya?" he asked, walking into the breakfast room.
Sitting down at the table, Durante flipped through the mail. His pet parakeet, "Tinker," flew to his shoulder and piped, "Good morning, Jimmy. I got a million o' dem."
Durante looked pleased, "Cute, ain't he," Jimmy said, then, in a louder voice, "I'm ready when you are, Maggie."
With Him 25 Years
Maggie White, Jimmy's maid, has been with him for 25 years. On occasion she has gone without pay during the rough years. She is completely devoted to the comedian. This morning she served prune juice, milk, toast and tea. Jimmy swallowed an assortment of pills with his juice.
"It looks like a nice day out," he said. "I think I'll go out to da track and watch the horses run. It's a beautiful sight to see."
Jirnmy ate his breakfast slowly announcing that he eats lightly. He smokes 10 cigars a day, but abstains from alcohol except for an occasional glass of sherry. "Funny t'ing," he said. "I get more tired when I ain't workin' than when I'm on the stage. Some people might consider this a catastrastroke, but not me.
Da Audience Da Reason
"I'm never tried when I come off the stage. The excitement of da audience keeps me going, expecially when I can see them smilin' faces.
"Nachelly, I get tired traveling around the country, but as long as I get my eight hours sleep I'm all right."
Breakfast finished, Jimmy fired up his first cigar of the day and walked into his den. The walls were crowded with plaques, pictures arid mementos of his long career. There also were photographs and paintings of horses.
“So you’re going to write a story about me?” he asked. “Well, that’s fine, but I don’t want nobody to put me on a pedasill.
“This year I’m gonna do four of my own TV shows, and a couple guest shots. But what I really wanta do is make more TV shows before da movie cameras. I got 16 fillums of my old program—which I owns outright. If I could get another 10, then I could make it a regular series. Like for reruns, too.”
Jimmy dressed quickly, awaiting his friend and piano player, Jules Buffano, for a junket to Del Mar racetrack.
On the trip to the track Jimmy studied the racing form carefully, marking down his choices. But his pre-race picks seldom are the ones he bets, He's the easiest man, in Hollywood to tout off or on to a horse, even by novice players.
Racing General
Once in the turf club, Durante issued orders like a general. Friends and track employes deployed themselves to the betting windows with Durante money clenched in their fists. The general puffed his cigar furiously, exchanging confidential tips with his aides.
Then, secretively, before each race, Jimmy disappeared to make the master bet of the race. In the confusion, the old Schnozzola was never quite sure whether he had won or lost.
On the return trip to Beverly Hills Jimmy went into a huddle with himself to determine the results of the day.
"It ain't no use tryin' to figger out how much I won, or maybe lost," he said finally. "I forgot how much money I started with."
Back in his home, Jimmy stoked another stogie and plopped down in an easy chair. He planned to have a quiet dinner with his girl friend, red-haired Margie Little, whom he has dated for some 14 years.
Thereafter she would return to her own home and the "boys" would show up a few at a time to sit around and gab.
"I ain't ever considered retirin'," Jimmy said, exhailing a billow of smoke. "As long as work is fun, then I'm for it. When it ain't fun no more I'll quit. "Lotsa times the newspapers say I'm gonna put the Schnozz out to pasture and take life easy. So far I ain't got no plans in that particular direction. "It ain't such a bad life," he concluded. Then, flapping his arms to his sides, he added, "And they're gonna make a picture of my life."
Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin are planning to film "The Jimmy Durante Story" with Martin playing Jimmy, Sinatra as Lou Clayton, and Crosby as Eddie Jackson. The old Schnozz himself will act as technical advisor to the project.

Horsepower of Tomorrow

The Car of Tomorrow (1951) features a variation on a gag Tex Avery later used in Field and Scream (1955).

In the latter cartoon, a boat is five horsepower. It’s pushed in the water by five horses.

In this one, narrator Gil Warren says “Here’s a powerful little job. 200 horsepower.”



And there’s a post-script that didn’t make it into Field and Scream.



It might have been fun to see the sanitation guy on water skis.

Walt Clinton, Mike Lah and Grant Simmons are the animators.

Knights Must Fall Backgrounds

Paul Julian’s audience members look like they belong in a UPA cartoon, not a Warner Bros. short. But that’s what you can spot in Knights Must Fall.

I couldn’t get the colours to match so the pan of the background has been split in two.



By the time this cartoon was released in 1949, Julian was already at UPA.

Jack Benny’s Two Shows

There was a running gag in the mid to late ‘40s on the Jack Benny radio programme about Phil Harris and Dennis Day having two shows; both had their own sitcoms in addition to their weekly Benny appearances.

It was a gag of convenience. Don Wilson announced a number of shows. Kenny Baker was on two shows during his final season with Jack (he signed an exclusive deal with the other show in 1939 and didn’t return to the Benny show. Even Phil Harris was still doing short band remote show when he was signed by Benny in 1936.

But Jack had two shows himself. In a way. One was on radio. The other was on stage.

The first show Benny and his troupe broadcast for Jell-O was on October 14, 1934. To divert a bit, he and the cast were on a special show on Saturday, October 6th which was a half-hour plug for his Jell-O show. It aired on the NBC Blue network. The Los Angeles Times said “Miss Livingstone threatens to assist Interviewer Kennedy by telling what she knows about the comedian. Frank Black also will be on hand to furnish what he considers appropriate music.” What Times columnist Carroll Nye had against Black, I don’t know. Black hadn’t been on the show for over six months anyway.

Here’s what the Akron newspaper had to say about it in its October 1st edition. It’s part of a longer column; I’ve omitted the non-Benny items.

Jack Benny's Kidding Keeps His Radio Cast Amused In Rehearsal
By DOROTHY DORAN
Beacon Journal Radio Editor
NEW YORK, Oct. 1.—Now that he has concluded his series for his Akron sponsor, Jack Benny is planning a preview sample of his humor that will feature his next program, starting a week from Sunday.
HIS preview is scheduled for John B. Kennedy's Radio City party next Saturday night at 9 o'clock over the Blue net.
IT is surprising to note the ease and calm with which Benny rehearses his cast for his air shows. The other day he breezed into the studio, wearing a gray suit and soft gray hat, and smoking a big cigar.
"HELLO, Jack, hello, Jack," came from the various members of the cast including the dignified appearing Don Bestor, maestro of the program.
CLOSELY following Benny into the studio was Mary Livingstone, a stunning figure in a brown suit and matching hat. Frank Parker was there and also Don Wilson, the giant of the program. Wilson, you know, came from the west coast and has been holding forth in New York for some time.
The cast saw the script for the first time when they gathered for rehearsal and no audience ever laughed more heartily at the air program than did the cast at the first reading of the script. The good-natured kidding that Benny concocts would put any group in a good humor.
There is no display of temperament in the Benny rehearsal, there's just a change in a line here and there and presto, the program is ready.

While this was going on, Broadway producer Sam Harris started rehearsals on the farce “Bring on the Girls.” He had signed Benny in May to star in it. The play was a satire on Roosevelt’s Reconstruction Finance Corporation, with Benny playing a banker. It opened at the National Theatre on October 23, 1934. It closed at the National Theatre on October 23, 1934. Harris and authors George Kaufman and Morrie Ryskind decided the third act needed to be completely re-written. It re-opened in New Haven on November 22nd. Variety reported the audience lost interest after a while and it needed more re-writing.

But it hit the road anyway. Here’s Jack talking to the Boston Globe of December 2, 1934.

BACK STAGE CHAT WITH JACK BENNY
Star of “Bring on the Girls” Hasn’t Much to Say Except That He Is Fed Up on Benefits
“I know I’m hard to interview,” said Jack Benny, leaning back in his chair, and between sentences scanning his new second act dialogue for “Bring on the Girls” at the Plymouth Theatre. He was preparing for one of the almost constant rehearsals for the new show, and was going over his lines in his dressing room off stage.
He shifted his cigar, hitched up a falling brace. “But I’m not very interesting,” he continued. “Nothing ever happened to me overnight.
“So many stars of the stage and radio can tell you about exciting nights when they became celebrities between the rise and fall of a curtain. But I have been of the theatre for 22 years and everything I got I worked hard for. There was never a falling into fame for me. It was al[l] so gradual that I didn’t realize I was in the big money.
“I started out my career as a violinist. That was after I left me home town of Waukegan, Ill. Since then I’ve played musical comedy, been a vaudeville star, headlined on radio programs and made personal appearances. I never have played in a legitimate show before.
“That’s why I wanted to be in ‘Bring On the Girls.’ I needed to round out my theatrical experience, so to speak. And it was a great break to appear under the management of Sam Harris in a play written by such clever and well known writers as George Kaufman and Morrie Ryskind.”
Plans Long Vacation
Now that he is rehearsing so constantly Mr Benny find life very exacting. It takes him many hours each week to write, rehearse and otherwise prepare his radio shows. A new play needs weary hours of rehearsing each day, as well as innumerable night conferences with authors and producer. Fortunately, Jack’s wife, Mary Livingston, is with him and can make sure that her husband keeps his appointments and yet doesn’t stay up too late at night.
Mr Benny is looking forward, with a wistful gleam in his eye, to a real vacation. He wants to take his wife to Europe and forget that there are such things as microphones and stages.
But he remembers that when Amos n’ Andy took a long anticipated vacation they were desperately bored and yearned to return to harness a week or so after they started their “rest.” Jack is a little afraid he may feel the same way.
The comedian thinks the ideal year would call for one picture (O, yes, he has made several talkies, including “Trans-Atlantic Merry-Go-Round”); one extra-special play that would have a long run in New York, and six months of radio appearances. The play could over-lap the radio, he says.
And then, as the final requirement, there must be three months of vacation in which Benny doesn’t have to do a single thing he doesn’t want to. Or appear in a single benefit. Benefits are the bane of Benny’s existence. He started in being a good fellow when asked to do benefits. Pretty soon no week went by in which he wasn’t asked to appear two to five times.
Married 8 Years
“It’s a funny thing,” says Benny. “If a man like Ed Wynn makes it a rule not to appear at benefits no one holds it against him. He’s still a good fellow. But if you appear for one person then don’t appear for everybody else, you’re known as the lowest sort of rat. ‘He’s getting a swelled head,’ says Broadway. I realize I made a mistake some time ago. But it is hard to remedy now.
A star may be making a lot of money, but he always works for it, says the actor. Charities and income taxes bring down a man’s total considerably. There are a million worries for every $10,000 an actor earns on the stage. There are disappointments, quarrels, jealousies and misunderstandings, too. Fame has a way of turning the tables.
“But I’d rather be in the theatrical business, and that means films, legitimate stage and radio, than doing anything else,” says Benny.
“I’d miss the worried and the scraps. I guess it’s all part of the fun of being on the stage. You think you are in the worst business in the world, but you couldn’t bear to leave it, no matter how small were your rewards.”
Benny has been married eight years and while his wife appears with him on the radio, she has never been on the stage except when he makes personal appearances.

By the time the show hit Springfield, Mass. on December 10th, the third act had been re-written three times. But even though business was good, Harris pulled it again for rewriting. And, as best as we can tell, it never returned. As a side-note, the only name I recognised in the cast was billed last. It was Alan Hewitt, who you may recall as the nosy detective on My Favorite Martian.

Even if the show had been a success, Benny may have had to drop out. He and his gang left for California in April 1935 as Jack was shooting Broadway Melody of 1936. And later in the year, he turned down an offer from Harris to star in a different legitimate stage comedy.

As things turned out, Jack didn’t need “two shows.” His career on the air was long and hardy. That show was enough.

The Friziest Tex

It just wasn’t in Tex Avery to be Friz Freleng.



See these cutsy-ootsy mice? Wouldn’t they be at home in a mid-1930s Freleng cartoon? (My guess is this scene was animated by Virgil Ross, who later spent what he recalled were some good years in the Freleng unit). The girl mouse-in-love even has a squealing Berneice Hansell voice for added sentiment. They even sing the title tune together in a strolling dance.

No, Tex, no! Don’t drink the Kutie-pie Kool Aid! Even if you did animate Bugs Bunny selling the stuff years about 2½ decades later.



Hurray! We’re saved! Now we’re in for fun. Irv Spence is here with some crazy expressions for the Three Ratz Brothers (a parody of the Three Ritz Brothers of vaudeville).



Sun visors are a convenient way to change the light colour projected to the stage.



More Ratz Brothers. He’s crying because he hasn't got a hat (from the song of the same name, which is what is being sung during most of the sequence).



Not only do we get the obligatory title song, we get the Ratz Brothers doing even more singing.This doesn’t strike me as Tex’s approach to a story at all. And the basic plot goes back to the Harman-Ising days—in a store, the bad guy kidnaps someone’s girl-friend. The boyfriend and others gang together to get rid of the villain. There’s cycle animation of applause that gets reused. All very Freleng-like.

Want radio references? Avery drags out one he used in A Gander at Mother Goose (1940)—the Listerine slogan “Why doesn’t someone tell me these things?” A mouse under a cowboy hat yells “Buck Benny rides again!” with an Andy Devine mouse (played by Danny Webb?) pulling up a farmer’s straw hat and adding “Hello, Buck!” When the green-faced rat is captured, he turns to the camera and says “Tain’t funny, McGee.”



For some reason, during one sequence, George the boy mouse woo-hoos like Daffy Duck. Daffy had only appeared in one cartoon when A Sunbonnet Blue was released. The personality change doesn’t make sense, but I guess Avery liked it, so in it went.

Avery decides to end the cartoon with a photograph of a baby bonnet and booties. He’d use a variation on the procreation ending at MGM on Little Johnny Jet.

As for voices, Mel Blanc joins the others already mentioned. I haven’t a clue who’s playing George.

Avery’s animators at this time consisted of Spence, Virgil Ross, Sid Sutherland and Paul Smith. 1937 was a year of change for the Avery unit. Chuck Jones and Bob Clampett went over to the Ub Iwerks studio where Looney Tunes were being contracted out. When Clampett took over, Bobe Cannon left Avery to work for him. Elmer Wait was promoted to animator but soon died. Spence didn’t stay too long. He left for MGM when it set up its cartoon studio in 1937 and stayed there until he left for Animation, Inc. in the mid-’50s.

Jerry Beck once interviewed Friz about Tex, mainly about leaving Warners in 1941. Here’s a portion of it, from Animato! 18, Spring 1989.

FF: When he got over to MGM he was a very unhappy man, because Bill [Hanna] and Joe [Barbera] took over. He was second banana, no matter what he did. He tried desperately. I look at his cartoons and see elements of desperation.
He was afraid to do subtle things. Tom and Jerry had that. They had little personalities, and subtleties, and things like that. Of course they had the broad gags - they were stealing part of Tex's stuff, the broad stuff.
He was a fun guy to work with. Everybody liked Tex, but Tex was so insecure. I felt about his cartoons that he overdid them because he was so insecure about them. He couldn't do a subtle cartoon. If he did something, it had to be twice as strong as anybody else, because he was insecure about what he was doing.
It seemed like he never came up with a strong personality after he left Warner's. Tex was so anxious to please he was overdoing everything. He should have come up with characters like Bugs Bunny, things like that...
But I think he created a kind of contemporary art with that desperation, when you look back. His stuff was nothing I admired.

JB: What's great is that your stuff and Tex's stuff is different. It's different, and yet they're both funny, and they both use the cartoon medium to its potential.

FF: Well, you put your own personality in. Tex was a very introverted man. I think he had real family problems. You didn't know Tex; I never knew him outside of his outer skin.

Getting back to Warners, Tex went back and forth from black-and-white to colour cartoons during 1937. He directed some of Porkys and another mouse cartoon (Ain't We Got Fun) before coming up with his excellent fairy tale parody, Little Red Walking Hood, far and away the most fun short he made that year.

The song “A Sunbonnet Blue (And a Yellow Straw Hat)” was written by Irving Kahal and Sammy Fain and © June 24, 1935. The score includes some Stalling stalwarts: “Put On Your Old Grey Bonnet,” “Japanese Sandman,” “Little Old Fashioned Music Box,” “The Lady In Red,” and “Freddy the Freshman (The Freshest Kid In Town)” in addition to aforementioned unchapeau song.

Here’s the great Billie Holliday singing the title song.

Swirling Rooster Fight

Parental chickens? Look no further than Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising at MGM.

There was Barnyard Babies (1935) and One Mother’s Family (1939) . The latter cartoon has one of those little-chick-that-doesn’t-fit-in concepts that forms the basis of The Little Bantamweight (1938).

In this one, Papa Rooster immediately trains his newborns to be boxers; fighting roosters were apparently acceptable entertainment during the Depression. One son, though, is timid and wants to play and suck on a lolly pop. Papa’s not too impressed, especially when the others are shadowboxing while the wimpy one is making shadow pictures.

Though circumstance, the boy is forced to battle the champ and after accidentally swallowing some linament, he’s turned into a mighty He-Rooster and wins the match.

The best part of this cartoon are swirls, multiples and thrashing movement. Unfortunately, the version of the cartoon I can find is loaded with DVNR which erases all kinds of lines on characters.



The swirls and the little runt roster is on top of the champ.



No animators are credited here; Scott Bradley doesn’t warrant a mention for the score.

This cartoon was released on March 12, 1938, the last delivered to MGM by Harman and Ising before Metro decided to set up its own cartoon unit under Fred Quimby. Because Quimby couldn’t manage the studio politics, he was forced to bring back Hugh and Rudy, this time under individual contracts, for another go of it.