The Night Before Christmas

Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera could not have made a better seasonal cartoon than The Night Before Christmas, which turns 80 this year.

Both Tom and Jerry show a range of natural, logical emotions. Scott Bradley’s score suits every bit of action, with a minor key during the building climax and a chorus singing carols to set the mood.

Especially worth looking at are the backgrounds and the incredible use of shades of colour. In the establishing shot of a house in the country, there are different tones of blue and purple blended together. The Christmas tree isn’t just one shade of green. Lights appear to be glowing. It is true artistry.



Below is a fine pan shot that has, unfortunately, been cut up because the shadowy toys are on a different layer in the foreground, photographed at a different rate than the background, adding depth to the shot.



It’s a crime the background artist wasn’t identified. MGM had several of them at this point, but the man most connected with the Hanna-Barbera unit was Bob Gentle over the years. I do not know if this is his work. I don’t know how far the studio worked in advance at this point, considering he was in the military when this film was released.



Hmmm. I wonder who the "J" and "B" blocks refer to.



The rocking chair, lion and furry lump (Tom) below are on cels.



Some time ago on the Yowp blog, we gave a short biography of Bob Gentle. Robert Mac Gentle was born in Norfolk, Nebraska on February 15, 1914, the third son of Burton Coe Gentle and Frances Davenport. His father was acting postmaster there, and later deputy assessor for the County of Los Angeles. The Gentles arrived in Los Angeles around 1927.

Bob attended Hollywood High School where, in 1930, he designed Christmas cards and seals. He graduated in 1931, enrolled for two years in the Otis Institute of Art, then eventually got a job at the Harman-Ising studio. When MGM dumped Harman-Ising and started making its own cartoons in 1937, Gentle made the jump to the new operation and ended up handling backgrounds for the Hanna-Barbera unit when it was formed a couple of years later. However, his son Drew recalled his dad was loaned to Disney to help get Snow White in theatres on schedule.

He enlisted in the U.S. Army on January 23, 1941 and by April was in uniform along with Metro artists Paul Fanning, Tom Ray and Sam Dawson. Gentle married Jane Virginia Parmele on December 13, 1943. They had met years earlier in art school. Drew also recalled his father was a reconnaisance map maker for the Allied advance after D-Day. He was discharged November 9, 1945 and returned to MGM.

Gentle was one of the originals hired by H-B Enterprises in 1957 to work on Ruff and Reddy. Gentle’s name can be found on the credits of Hanna-Barbera’s TV cartoons up to “The Flintstone Kids” (1986). He died on January 24, 1988.

Joe Barbera’s story is set indoors for a little more than the first half of the cartoon. Jerry escapes outside through the front door mail slot and we get shots of the mouse getting colder and colder in the blowing snow. The backgrounds looked like this:



In a wonderfully animated sequence, Tom’s satisfaction in kicking out Jerry turns to concern that the little mouse may have frozen to death in the snowstorm. An an oboe plays a minor key version of “Silent Night,” the interior turns darker with shadows. The cat rescues Jerry from the buried snow in time and rushes him to the fireplace to warm up. The backgrounds are beautifully painted.



The fire and snow effects are first-rate, too. Again, there is no credit given on screen, but Al Grandmain was an effects artist for the studio for a number of years.

Jean Albert Grandmain was born in Paris on March 23, 1902 and his family came to the U.S. in 1905. He was married in 1923 in New Orleans where he was an artist and was initiated into the Masons (Polar Star No. 1) in 1926. He moved to Los Angeles by 1929 as a son was born there. The 1930 City Directory has him decorating windows for a dollar store. The 1932 directory lists him as a commercial artist, in 1934 he is a sign painter/card writer, but his occupation is “cartoonist” as of 1936.

When he left MGM isn’t clear. He had few screen credits at the studio, the last being on Just Ducky, released in 1953. Grandmain did not join Hanna and Barbera at their TV cartoon studio. He died in Visalia on June 25, 1972 (unfortunately, neither the Fresno nor Tulare newspapers gave his obituary).

The story ends with both characters in the Yuletide spirit of giving and friendship. But it seems the story may have been changed. The plot description of the short in the Motion Picture Herald of December 27, 1941 has little in common with the final cartoon:

Tom Cat and Jerry Mouse call a halt to their eternal battling and decide to celebrate the holiday by exchanging presents. But a lifetime of enmity cannot be resolved in a moment of repentance so when the presents are opened Tom gets a tome on “The Art of Catching Mice” and Jerry receives a package of cheese beautifully wrapped and neatly affixed to a mouse trap. Thus, once more, the feud begins. Round and round the Christmas tree, in and out of the piles of presents dashes the cat in pursuit of the mouse.

Tome? Not that I saw. Wrapped package? No, it’s just a hunk of cheese. Did this come from an earlier studio synopsis? Regardless, the story as it appeared on the screen is far superior.

Animator Mark Kausler has pointed out some of Jack Zander’s expert animation in this cartoon in previous comments. My understanding is George Gordon and Bill Littlejohn animated on this short, there must have been others. The whispery narration at the start is by Frank Graham, according to voice historian Keith Scott.

The print of the cartoon in circulation has the original Christmas title card, which adds a bit of charm.



Even if you are not a Christmas person or a Tom and Jerry person—and I am neither—you’ll still enjoy the fine overall artistry of this cartoon released December 6th 80 years ago. As the Exhibitor put it in a review at the time: “This is a heart-warming subject that will charm young and old...EXCELLENT.”

The Fire Where Santy Claus Lives

There’s a sameness about the cartoons Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising made for Warner Bros. The characters are all designed the same way, posed at the same angles, and have the same falsettos in about every cartoon. The shorts are competent but not very daring.

The Shanty Where Santy Claus Lives is missing something Harman and Ising loved—a plot where a girl gets kidnapped and the hero and his buddies gang up to defeat him, generally with some butt violating gag along the way. The danger comes late in this cartoon, and it’s in the form of a fire started by an enthusiastic toy, bobbing to the tuba beat in the cartoon’s title theme. Fire! he yells.



You’d think St. Nick would come to the rescue, or at least show up, but he vanished about half-way through the cartoon, never to be seen again. Instead, the poor boy he rescued from a shack comes up with an idea—use bagpipes as a firehose.



The fire is out. The toys cheer. The boy looks at the camera like he does periodically through the cartoon.



So long, folks!



Ham Hamilton and Norm Blackburn are the credited animators, with chunks of scenes lifted from Red Headed Baby in 1931. This cartoon just missed a Christmas release and came out in January 1933.

Ice Rescuing You

Maybe the title of the 1933 Popeye cartoon Seasin’s Greetinks! refers to the winter season. There isn’t much that’s Christmassy about this short, other than Popeye gives Olive a present and there’s a decorated Christmas tree at the end.

Olive kind of rescues herself off an ice chunk in a swift-moving river. She extends her leg an impossible distance to Popeye on land, then climbs along her leg to safety.



Seymour Kneitel and Doc Crandall are the credited animators.

Mel Recovers

Mel Blanc made probably the most remarkable physical comeback of anyone associated with the radio or cartoon industries.

He was involved in a horrific car wreck on January 24, 1961. It almost killed him. He was comatose. Bones were broken everywhere. Slowly, he healed. Even more amazing—he resumed working. A home studio was set up so he could read a scratch track for Warner Bros. cartoons. Eventually, he was voicing Flintstones episodes from his bed.

Mel had been occupied on camera, but only rarely. He worked for years on radio with Jack Benny; the last several seasons he was on almost every show. That carried over into television. When the accident happened . . . well, why don’t we let Mel tell you? Here’s a Boston Globe story from Sunday, December 24, 1961.

"Thank God For Little Children,” Says Mel Blanc
By Elizabeth L. Sullivan
Of all the people who will be enjoying this joyful Christmas season, perhaps the most grateful is TV’s Mel Blanc. He will be seen on the Jack Benny Show tonight (Sunday) in a wheel chair and leg cast—his first appearance on TV since an almost fatal automobile accident last January.
"I've taken off the cast," said Mel when he called from the West Coast the other day. "It feels wonderful to see my bare leg after a year's absence. I'll be wearing a brace on the leg for some weeks but as long as I can walk, that's all I ask.
"I don't remember a thing about the accident. I was taken to the hospital and remained unconscious for 10 days. My wife and son were called in. The doctors told my wife, Estelle, that I was going to die. Every bone was broken.
"My son, Noel, age 21, a sturdy lad, who served as a lieutenant in the Army, fainted dead away. He was shocked, but my wife said over and over again: 'He's not going to die. He’ll be all right.'
“The day after the accident letters and telegrams arrived from entertainers and people in all walks of life.
"And thank God for little children. Of the 15,000 letters to come to the hospital a large portion were from the children. They sent nickels and pennies, along with chewing gum. They wanted to express their sorrow and love. This Is the way they selected to do so.
"Jack Benny was wonderful. I’ll never forget him. He visited me at least once every 10 days. If he were going to be out of town, he'd call to let me know. And no matter where his destination, he'd always telephone—New York, Chicago, Florida, anywhere!
"George Burns, Red Skelton, Jerry Lewis and scores of others either visited me, sent letters or telegrams. Mayor Sam Yorty, of Los Angeles, with whom I was supposed to parade last July 4, was most solicitous.
"It was an enjoyable three months I spent in the hospital, although I was in considerable pain. I kept my mouth shut and endured it. The doctors and nurses said I was the best patient ever.
"I'll be glad to be rid of braces and crutches so as to devote full time to my new business—Mel Blanc Associates. I formed the organization shortly before my accident. My son carried on the business all year and he has done an excellent job. He's a graduate of UCLA where he majored in theater arts. He's my production manager.
"We record radio commercials and tape TV ones and I might add, 'collect residuals.' The latter came in handy for my long illness. Anyone can use money at a time like this!" For a long time, Mel hid behind the anonymity of his 300 voices. He started as a voice specialist for Warner Brothers' cartoons in 1937. He was heard by millions but never seen by them. This he liked.
When he joined the Jack Benny radio show in 1940, he preferred to remain anonymous. But when Benny took to TV, Mel became a favorite with viewers. Let him travel and his eager followers stop him to hear his repertoire of voices and characters.
Incidentally, Mel's first appearance with Benny was as "Carmichael, the Bear." He was also the sound of the old Maxwell.
The road to fame wasn't smoothly paved for Blanc. He started as a musician, moved into the Orpheum Theater in Portland, Ore., as music director, but then decided that the field of dialects was for him. He pounded the pavements and eventually won a job at Warner's. He played a drunken bull with hiccups in a cartoon feature. After signing with the Warner Studio, the road to radio opened to him.
Mel has helped win five Oscars, has invented the voices of Bugs Bunny, Speedy Gonzalez, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, Yosemite Sam, Barney of the Flintstones and many others.
He loses thousands of dollars a year due to plagiarism. In the United States there is no legislation for the protection of original voices and characters. Hundreds of creations have been stolen from him. He hopes that laws will soon be enacted for such protection.
After the first of the year, viewers will see more of Mel. He's glad to be back in the swing of things. And as he finished his phone conversation, he again remarked on the thoughtfulness of the children. "God Bless them all . . . and the adults, too, for their prayers," he said humbly.

By the way, you’ve likely heard Blanc talk about his doctor talking to him when he was unconscious, getting no response, then talking to him as if he were Bugs Bunny and Mel, as Bugs, answered back. It’s in Blanc’s autobiography. In Harold Heffernan’s Hollywood column of December 23, 1961 for the North American Newspaper Alliance, Mel is quoted:

“There’s a story that when I came to I said ‘What’s up, Doc?’ in my best Bugs Bunny voice,” Blanc smiled, “but it’s not true.”

Mel told a bunch of tall tales in his life. We’ll let you decide if this is one of them.

Pocahontas 1, Sylvester 0

Perhaps the best-known gag in Warner Bros. great Christmas cartoon Gift Wrapped (1952) is when Sylvester plays American Indian, complete with headband and feather, and uses a bow and plunger to capture Tweety.

This isn’t a scene where the director cuts to Sylvester standing there and then firing an “arrow.” There’s personality animation you may not even realise. Sylvester does a running slide into the frame, at one time with his back turned to the camera, straightens himself around, and then pulls the headband back up onto his forehead after it falls onto his snout due to the force from the sliding.



For good measure, Sylvester is cross-eyed when he fires the arrow.



Friz loved that sweat-drop effect to register shock or impact.



You know how cats carry a shaker of salt with them.



Added personality. Sylvester looks aside to the audience and remarks “Shishkabob!”



Thwarted again! Dry brush.



Cut to Granny. “Aha!! You didn’t count on Pocahontas, did ya, Geronimo?”



Fade out.

“The Sun Dance,” a 1903 tune by Leo Friedman, is the main theme during this segment, with Carl Stalling blending in his own connecting music (such as when Tweety is being pulled in).

The animation in this cartoon is by Manny Perez, Ken Champin, Virgil Ross and Art Davis, who animated this sequence (Thad Komorowski ID).

A Gander at Mother Goose Backgrounds

Tex Avery jumps into familiar territory in the Warners spot-gagger A Gander at Mother Goose (1940). There’s Sara Berner as Kate Hepburn, a dog/tree routine and the kind of quiet-noise gag he liked to do. He sets things up as calm and peaceful, then some character screams or makes a lot of racket.

In the final gag, Tex engages in something he loved—a slow pan over a Johnny Johnsen scenic background, with something in the foreground moving at a different pan rate to create a 3-D effect. In Goose, narrator Bob Bruce recites the opening to “A Visit From St. Nicholas” (“’Twas the night before Christmas....”)



He dissolves into another background and trucks the camera in. It saves work by his animation, though not for cameraman Manny Corral.



Tex then dissolves into the pan shot. Carl Stalling plays a clock-like gong in the score for added Christmas calm effect.



Dave Monahan gets the rotational writing credit.

This is the cartoon which features Little Jack Horner with a Bugs Bunny voice and an eagle that says “Doc.” Bugs hasn’t quite been invented yet. Say, Tex, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you take the voice and the “doc,” find a rabbit and...

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.