The Fill-In Announcer, Norman Barry

Don Wilson settled in for a long run as Jack Benny’s announcer in 1934, but there were a few shows when someone else filled in.

There was the unique occasion on April 26, 1936 when Benny and his writer Harry Conn parted company for good while Benny was on the road. Jack had to hastily put together a broadcast in Boston. At the same time, Wilson had to rush back to California for a family emergency. Young & Rubicam sent in Pat Weaver to announce; I suspect he helped write the show, too. He had written comedy at KHJ, was the agency’s man with the Fred Allen show and announced Isham Jones’ programme at the time. Weaver went on to become the president of NBC.

There were times when the shows were set in Chicago but actually done in Los Angeles. Since Don Wilson was “in Chicago,” the shows used the canard of an announcer in Los Angeles “switching” to Chicago. One was Ken Carpenter, who was a protégé of Wilson’s (March 23, 1937, the debut of Rochester). Another was Mel Ruick (December 18, 1938).

Then there were times that Benny and his troupe went on the road but Wilson had other announcing commitments and couldn’t go. Harry Von Zell (March 27, 1938), Kenny Delmar (May 18, 1947) and Rochester (May 25, 1947) announced programmes out of New York. Von Zell and Delmar were announcing Fred Allen’s show at the time so their hiring was a natural. Veteran Bob Brown (in the picture above) announced for Benny from Chicago on January 20, 1935.

Then there was the occasion of May 11, 1947 where Benny was playing for a week in Chicago. It was decided to hire an announcer for the evening. So Norman Barry became Jack Benny’s announcer for one night. He, Jack and Mary Livingstone actually had a routine in the first act of the show, so Benny must have had great confidence in him.

My favourite Barry story was reported by Variety when he got fired from the Chicago CBS station, WBBM, in 1934. Barry told listeners they were tuned to WIBO. Barry had been a soda jerk, taxi driver and finally an accountant when friends urged him to get into radio and he got a job in 1930 at WIBO as an announcer on radio and the station’s experimental TV broadcasts. He was gone before the FCC ordered the station off the air in 1933. After being canned at WBBM he soon settled into a long career at NBC’s WMAQ. Barry was also active for many years on the local executive of AFRA.

Barry talked about his Benny experience in 1994 in a lovely interview with historian/announcer Chuck Schaden. Barry didn’t reveal if he had to pass an audition with other WMAQ announcers (among them in those days were Dave Garroway and Hugh Downs). But he did tell about how his boss at WMAQ, Jules Herbuveaux, got annoyed with what he saw as a silly request from New York (from someone who was later the head of NBC-TV) and decided to send out a flurry of ridiculous telegrams in response. The network was worried about Barry being in a commercial conflict if he did the Benny show.

Norm: This was a telegram from some guy named Walter Scott, network sales in New York, saying “Foote, Cone and Belding would like to know if Norm Barry has done any cigarette commercials in the last five years. Appreciate a prompt reply.”
Well, Jules wrote back: “Norm Barry has not done any cigarette commercials during the last five years. He’s supposed to be on one, on the Benny show for Foote, Cone and Belding. Do you think this will keep him out of any cigarette accounts for the next five years? Shall I sign him to an exclusive contract? Regards, Jules.”
Then, another, the same day: “Add material on Barry. Barry failed a Raleigh spot announcement audition some time ago. Couldn’t say ‘Wishhh.’ Signed, Jules Herbuveaux.”

(Tralfaz note: In 1947, Raleigh's radio campaign pushed the new "moisterized" 903 cigarette. An announcer kept making a "Wishhh" sound three or four times in every commercial representing a "jet of fresh, pure moisture." The idea was worthy of ridicule.)

Norm: The next one said: “Suggest client take advantage of 13-week after-rebates. Do you want me to sign Barry to a 65-year contract? Signed, Jules Herbuveaux.”
Next one said: “Barry a fancy dresser. Wears tuxedo and will go any place.” The next one said: “Barry initiated today in Cigarette Smokers Anonymous.” Next one said: “Cigarette smokers love Barry.”
Finally, this guy Walter Scott wrote back: “Your complete and continual attention to our request deeply appreciated by American Tobacco, Foote, Cone and Belding and first person singular. What if they decide to bring Don Wilson in after all? American doesn’t think they can keep Barry in Chicago for 65 years, so how about a one-time only?” They got to thinking “That Herbuveaux must be a nut out there.”

Chuck: Norm, you actually did substitute for Don Wilson when Jack Benny was Chicago appearing at the Chicago Theatre for a week.

Norm: It was just ahead of the Phil Harris show and we did them both over the 8th Street Theatre.
It was an experience, really, because the fun part of it ... was that the rehearsals were done up in Benny’s suite of rooms in the Ambassador, and we just sat around. The way they put that show together was that whoever wanted to contribute could contribute and it would be accepted if it was funny, you know. It wasn’t gospel. It was whatever came up.
And so the writers were sitting around there, Mary was there, and Phil was there, and the girl who was the, the little blonde girl who in a movie with Bing Crosby at that time, she was...

Chuck: Marjorie Reynolds.

Norm: Marjorie Reynolds was in it. And it was more amusing to sit there and listen to them kick this thing around than it was to do the show itself. Everybody has a great sense of humor. Great writers he had. And, of course, he had a great sense of humor himself.
But, the thing is I agreed to do ... he agreed to pay me so much money for the show—I would have done it for nothing I think—but when I got my money it was twice what he agreed to pay me. Which kind of beat down the suggestion that he was a cheapskate.

Barry didn’t announce The Fitch Bandwagon that followed. The local fill-in announcer was not identified but had very precise diction in what is a real stinker of a show. Jack Benny has a cameo in a situation where, for reasons never disclosed, he pays less to sleep in a bed on a train if it’s folded up.

Barry had some other career highlights. He went on the NBC TV network to announce golf matches from Chicago. A low-light may have been a 1949 TV game show called RFD America which brought live animals into the 19th floor of the Merchandise Mart. Pigs chomped on TV cables. Other animals, Barry said, were saved from embarrassing situations by deft camera work. It was quite a difference from intoning “Now, the Story of Mary Marlin!”

He died around Christmas time, 1997.

The only other radio broadcast when Wilson was absent was on May 27, 1951 when Bob Stevenson opened and closed the show; he had been used as an endorsement voice by American Tobacco, including one spot as Maurice Evans. No reason was given for Wilson’s absence and Stevenson didn’t interact with anyone.

You can hear the Barry show below.

Bugs Bunny Goes to War

Theatrical cartoon characters helped boost the Allied effort during World War Two. A book and numerous essays have been written about it, and it’s a subject too long to discourse in one blog post. Instead, we’ll focus on a little slice of events of the era.

Fans of aged cartoons who are reading this will know stars of animated shorts made by Warner Bros., Walter Lantz and Walt Disney (and others) were seconded to serve as insignia for various American military outfits. Some were painted on planes. Others were sketched on bombs (and torpedoes, I understand). The Second Division Marines actually had a real rabbit they found during the Tinian battle. They named him “Bugs,” fed him doughnuts and beer, and took him to church services on Sunday (source, Indiana (Pa.) Gazette, Apr. 3, 1945, pg. 2).

Back to the cartoon character. Let’s hear from none other than Leon Schlesinger, who never missed a trick when it came to publicity. He (or publicity director Rose Joseph) wrote to the “Letters For Servicemen” column in the Hollywood Citizen News, which published what he had to say in its edition of July 24, 1943.

Leon Schlesinger's Boy, Bugs, Is Out Fighting
Dear Boys:

I've got a boy in the service. Maybe some of you have met him. His name is not the same as mine, but the world knows him better than it knows me. His name is Bugs Bunny.
He goes around asking Japs and Nazis, "what's cookin', doc?" He says that to everyone so I know he's just brash enough to make no exception just because it's an enemy ear that's listening.
Like the tribe from which he springs, he finds it possible to be more than just one fighter so he battles for every branch of Uncle Sam's warriors.
It keeps us busy here at the studio keeping his service record up to date, what with his activities on so many fronts. One Flying Fortress, better known as “Bugs Bunny;” clothed itself with glory over Berlin, and another, that took its name from the wacky expression, "Wabbit Twacks," recently sent a flock of Hitler's flying fleet to perdition.
Bugs got into the service via the Marine Corps and as a sergeant he's really tough. His enlistment number is 000386—the last three numerals representing the number of valiant leathernecks who defended Wake Island.
Bugs is the mascot of the bombardier school of the Army Air Force at San Angelo, Tex. There he adorns work shirts, rides on windshields, embellishes leather albums, and is even present on the match books used by the personnel.
He's a platoon sergeant in the Intelligence department at Camp Elliott, and we here at the studio are constantly creating facsimiles of Bugs for units of the service all over the world.
We were fearful that Bugs might lose prestige because he sank with the carrier Lexington, but he's going stronger than ever, which proves that you can't keep' a good rabbit down.
If in the midst of battle a voice from .the next foxhole, or over the radio from a Flying Fort inquires "What's cookin', doc?" that'll be my Boy, Bugs. Tell him the folks back home never will let him down.
LEON SCHLESINGER.

San Angelo, you say? Let’s read this story from the San Angelo Standard-Times of December 3, 1942.

‘Bugs Bunny’ Adopted As Mascot For San Angelo Bombardier School; He's On Field Insignia, Too
A distinctive insignia for the San Angelo Army Air Field bombardier school — the famous animated movie character, "Bugs Bunny" riding on a bomb— has been adopted at the school with the enthusiastic endorsement of the cadets, enlisted men, and officers. Although “Bugs” does not enjoy an official status he will appear informally on stationery, greeting cards, stickers and other items which are available exclusively to the personnel of the post.
The design for the insignia was developed last summer by the school's director of training, Lt. Col. Harry Crutcher, Jr. Intrigued by the famed Leon Schlesinger animated cartoon character, Col. Crutcher decided that it has just the spirit which typified the bombardiers who shortly would be graduating from the new school.
Col. Crutcher spent one Sunday thumbing through his youngster’s funny books, in which “Bugs Bunny” appeared, in order to find precisely the correct expression for the insignia. The final choice, one of exceedingly saucy gaiety, is the one which “Bugs” now wears while riding the bomb.
The drawing for the insignia was made by Tech. Sgt. William Walker, who has served as chief draftsman at post headquarters. The insignia has the approval of the creator of "Bugs,” Leon Schlesinger. In a letter to Col. Crutcher giving his approval, he said:
“I wish to compliment the artist who did ‘Bugs Bunny.’ We have had many of them sent in and always corrected them, but yours is up to standard and you have my permission to use it at will for your outfit. Will you kindly compliment Sgt. William Walker for his reproduction of our character. I think it is very well done."
Under no circumstances will the new insignia be commercialized. It may be used only on articles which are available in the bombardier school's post exchange.

A cute connection with Bugs, the military and a movie fan can be found in another Texas newspaper, the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal, of January 24, 1943.

SPAFS Fondness For "Bugs Bunny' Shared By Washington Girl
Little Muriel Lake of Washington, D. C., shares with the winged commandos of South Plains Army Flying school a fondness for "Bugs Bunny," rakish movie cartoon character who is the commandos' mascot.
So when she saw Bugs' picture in Life recently, she sat down and wrote this letter to Lieut. Warren C. Freeman, public relations officer:
"I saw your picture of Bugs Bunny. I am interested in Bugs, and my nickname is Bugs Bunny.
"I like carrots and have two large front teeth.
"I have very long pigtails and they are called my ears. I am very glad that you like Bugs as I do.
"P. S. I am a girl and I am 14 (almost).
"P. S. S. I like the air corps best!"
Lieut. Martin A. Mayer, assistant public relations officer, wrote Muriel, sending her two pictures of SPAFS' insignia.
"We are mighty tickled that the air corps is your favorite," he wrote, "but we wish you would make it a little more particular and make it the glider pilots over the other fliers. I am sure that you are much prettier than our Bugs is, and you are wise to like carrots because they are very good for you."

The Warners studio itself referred to the airborne mascot in the Friz Freleng cartoon Of Thee I Sting. It’s basically six minutes of an air force mission (including recruiting and training) transposed into mosquitos. One problem is it was released after the war was over, so you wonder what audiences may have thought, especially since the mosquitos are really the bad guys, picking on some innocent homebody.

Here’s a Bugs Bunny insignia on the side of a flying mosquito.



Pin-ups were always popular with our fighting boys, so writer Mike Maltese works them into some, frankly, pretty weak gags in this short.



Gravel Gertie didn’t quite look like that. She was a villainess in the Dick Tracy comic strip. According to the Nov. 6, 1944 Wichita Eagle, a private clipped a drawing of her from the paper and she became the barracks pin-up girl at Ft. Monmouth, N.J.



By 1946, the Sue/Sioux pun must have been ancient.



Jimmy Durante fans will get the reference to this. He started saying “Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are,” some time at the start of the 1945-46 radio season.



Say, the mosquitos’ victim in this picture kinda looks like director Art Davis, doesn’t it?

Davis didn’t work on this cartoon. Friz’s usual bunch of animators (Virgil Ross, Gerry Chiniquy, Manny Perez and Ken Champin) got screen credit, with layouts by Hawley Pratt and backgrounds by Terry Lind (one of the few Warners’ cartoons she worked on). Carl Stalling uses Raymond Scott’s The Toy Trumpet over the opening titles.

Larry Storch

How far did Larry Storch, who died today six months before his 100th birthday, go back?

He hosted a show on the Du Mont network. Du Mont hasn’t been around for 65 years.

He appeared on the Fred Allen radio show. The show hasn’t been around since 1949.

He made a guest appearance on Duffy’s Tavern. That was in 1946.

In the ‘40s, Storch was a hit in nightclubs. He did imitations. It’s believed people started saying “Judy, Judy, Judy” when doing impressions of Cary Grant because Storch did it in his act (Grant never said the line).

His biggest TV break came in the early ‘50s when he replaced Jackie Gleason for a summer. But it didn’t lead to very much work in television, so he did films and clubs until 1965 rolled around and he was offered a co-starring role on F Troop. While the series aired, he found work voicing cartoon characters at Warner Bros. and then Filmation; Total TV got him to do his fine Frank Morgan impersonation as Mr. Whoopee on Tennessee Tuxedo before this.

But I think people pretty much know him as Corporal Agarn.

When the show aired, columnists wanted to talk to Forrest Tucker. He was the big name on the series. But we’ve found an interview with Storch that touches little on the show, but more on his life at the time. This is from December 28, 1965.

Actor Buys House, Gets $10,000 Off by Taking Cat
By VERNON SCOTT
HOLLYWOOD (UPI) -Larry Storch, the corporal with the low brow and lower boiling point on television's new "F Troop" series, saved $10,000 on his new home by agreeing to keep a cat that went with the place.
"It's true," Storch says.
"My wife and I fell in love with this big, rambling Ponderosa type house up in Nichols Canyon. It was very expensive, but the owner said he'd knock ten grand off the price if we let his cat live there.
"So we bought the place and we still have the cat. His name is Charlie, and pound for pound he lives better than I do."
Company For Cat
Charlie is visited now and again by his former master, an invasion which Storch accepts with a shrug. Charlie also has companion, a Siamese recently purchased by the Storches.
"The new cat's name is Pablo, and he and Charlie get along like brothers. But only after Charlie beat him up."
Larry and his wife, Norma Booth, an AAU swimming champion of the 1940s, have been married four years. But they were engaged for 15 years.
Storch explains: "We wanted to make sure it wasn't puppy love. She proposed to me one day, and I said, 'Okay, let's shake on it.'"
They have an adopted daughter, June, 11.
The Storch home has two bedrooms, two baths, two fire places, a steam room, sauna bath and swimming pool. It si ts high atop a peak in the Santa Monica Mountains overlooking Los Angeles and Hollywood.
One-Car Family
Larry is that rare television star who owns but a single automobile, a flashy sports model. He's up by 6:30 every morning for a cup of tea with Norma. She drives him to work at Warner Bros, for the ABC-TV series and picks him up in the evening.
A successful night club comedian before turning to television, Storch had made his headquarters in New York. He moved to Hollywood three years ago, buying the house (and Charlie) little more than year ago.
"My astrologer said all my vibrations were coming from the west," he says. "And he was right. I'm crazy about life in California. It's the most gracious way of living in the world. Everyone seems to get along better, especially when I think of the mad dogs in New York."
Storch is an introspective man who examines the success of "F Troop" with combined suspicion and relief. After trooping around the country for so many years he can hardly believe his good fortune.
Because Norma still keeps in shape swimming in their pool, Larry has taken up the sport and is anxious to try his skill at SCUBA diving.
Reclusive Comedian
Socially he is almost a recluse. He has hundreds of hi-fi records which he enjoys listening to by the hour. When nobody's listening he joins the recording by honking away on a saxophone which he plays badly.
The Storch family entertains informally when friends stop by for a swim and pot luck. Most of his friends are in show biz and include co-stars Forrest Tucker, Ken Berry and such long-time buddies as Jerry Lester and Buddy Hackett.
"I'm no gourmet," Storch says, "but I enjoy Norma's cooking. She's the most daring cook in the world. I bought her a book on Japanese dishes, and by golly she became an expert at it."
At home Storch can be found stumbling around in blue jeans, T-shirts and bare-footed.
"It's all part of living comfortably," he explains.



How often do actors follow up a success with a real bomb? Larry Storch was one.

He was hired as a co-star on a show that had smatterings of Bilko. Storch appeared opposite Billy De Wolfe in a mid-season replacement called The Queen and I, the ironic title of which could not have been lost on some in Hollywood, including De Wolfe. The story is from January 12, 1969. I don’t recall Pat Morita being on McHale’s Navy.

Sailing With Storch in a New Comedy
By CHARLES WITBECK
HOLLYWOOD — Life below deck comes to the tube in "The Queen and I," a new half-hour comedy Thursday nights on CBS at 7:30 p.m. beginning January 16, with purser Larry Storch, a con man with a thin veneer of class, conspiring against Billy De Wolfe's First Officer Nelson, representing the Establishment, law and order aboard a 25,000-ton cruise ship, the M.S. Queen.
Instead of playing cavalry corporal in the slapstick "F Troop," Larry Storch, remains in dark blue, shifting his base of operations to hustling on the high seas. He books bingo parties on the ship, catered dinners, anything to keep the old girl in business. In one script purser Duffy runs a no-cruise for a passenger who is never allowed on deck, an assignment requiring the aid of a crafty crew. Duffy and his men would even sell the liner if the price was right.
Keeping Duffy in line is the job of First Officer Oliver W. Nelson, the man who really believes he should be running the ship, a spit and polish carper who barks "Don't ever touch an officer" when the purser puts a hand on his shoulder. The role compares to Billy De Wolfe's previous job as a radio station manager on "Good Morning World," only De Wolfe now has the whole crew to boss. Originally, Billy was cast as the Captain, but shifted because the boss would have to be too polite.
"The Queen and I" pilot began filming in early fall under the Bing Crosby, label, created by Howard Leeds and handled by "Hogan's Heroes" head man, Ed Feldman, with the idea of a September '69 slot. Network buyers asked to see the pilot before it was completed. Star Storch fell ill during the filming so network all he had, which was enough to warrant a go-ahead for five episodes and a January starting time.
Feldman continues to run "Hogan's Heroes" and the ship comedy, besides directing the first few episodes, calling on "Hogan" writers like Arthur Julian and Lawrence Marks for broad, slapstick scripts. The only cruise Feldman ever took occurred in World War II on the government, but he can rely on Marks, who wrote a book called "Always Go First Class", and is noted for a yearly ocean voyage. Arthur Julian relates closely to star Larry Storch, writing some of the wildest "F Troop" shows, so time won't be lost in workers getting to know each other.
In the midst of filming show number one after the pilot, an episode examining the question of computers replacing members, director Feldman gave me a shipboard tour on Paramount's stage 16, through galleys, captain's quarters, the bridge and out onto realistic wooden decks surrounded by properly stained aged bulwarks. We stood before the wheel and the navigational gismos, looking out on a painted sky blue background, and Feldman said proudly, "We even rock a little on the show," It's imperceptible, hardly enough to make viewers squeamish."
Their Feldman went back to business filming purser Duffy in pajamas and a bright red bath robe, being served dinner by chef Barney (Pat Morita) and Becker (Carl Ballantine) holdovers from "McHale's Navy." Duffy was served a vintage wine amid plans to destroy First Officer Nelson, and he handled the stuff like a connoisseur.
"I don't want to come off too polished a character," Storch announced between takes.
Describing his character a minute later, Storch, on the lookout for divebombing stage bees, said the purser was real fira steak and ketchup man who learned French from the back of a wine bottle: "Duffy has this veneer picked up on cruises. He goes from champagne to beer, and he's glib, using corny lines to old women like 'Haven't I seen you in movies'."
"F Troop" fans shouldn't be disappointed in Storch's con man, and they'll hear all the Storch dialects and listen to his saxophone right off the bat. Even magician Carl Ballantine slips in card tricks to amuse passengers in a series that won't contain quite the slapstick of the Marx Brothers in their famous shipboard compartment scene, but Feldman promises plenty of broad comedy, and has the horses for the job.

That write-up is more than the series deserved. But Storch deserves recognition, as he could count his professional days back 80 years to the Rainbow Room in Asbury Park and Loew's State in New York. And, in a way, to the days just after the Civil War in a place called Fort Courage.

Drilling a Gag Into an Audience

How far can we stretch a gag? That seems to be the difference between Deputy Droopy and Tex Avery’s other “don’t make noise” cartoons.

Droopy fires up a blow-torch to heat up a hand drill.



How long can Avery and writer Heck Allen keep this going? First, the short bandit grabs the hot drill. He hands it to the tall bandit so he can run outside and yell (and not disturb a sheriff as try to rob his office).



The tall bandit now realises he’s holding the drill. Out he goes, but not before giving it back to the short bandit.



The short bandit now feels the heat. He hands the drill back to the tall bandit, who stands immobile with a pair of pliers so he doesn’t get burned (the only thing that moves is his right arm).



Tex keeps things going. The short bandit runs back into the sheriff’s office and the tall bandit uses the pliers to hand him back the drill.



That pretty much finishes the gag. It’s on to the next one.

Avery and Mike Lah get co-director credits on the cartoon as Avery and almost all his unit were laid off in March 1953. Lah stayed behind to finish this cartoon and “Cellbound” with animators from the Hanna-Barbera unit—Irv Spence, Ed Barge, Ken Muse and Ray Patterson.

Really Limited Animation

The stories weren’t much, the animation was minimal, dialogue was non-existent (see comment below), but Colonel Bleep has the distinction of getting on the air before anything Hanna-Barbera put on TV. The series appeared on September 23, 1957 on WGR in Buffalo, almost three months before H-B’s Saturday morning show Ruff and Reddy on NBC. The station ran a full half-hour of the cartoons early Monday evening.

Bleep were made at the Soundac studio in Miami. The animation consisted a filled-in blurry outline followed by a pose. Sometimes, the drawings went from pose to pose, being held on screen while a narrator intoned. The last drawing you see below was held for 30 frames, longer if consider only the effects animation changed between the last two drawings.

Soundac cut out animation by reusing cycles (especially effects) or drawings themselves, and by holding a drawing while moving the background.

The studio decided all its characters would have thick outlines (presumably the better to read on black and white TVs, especially if the reception produced a ghosty picture). They made up for the lack of animation with interesting poses. In Scratch and His Feathered Friend, you can see consecutive drawings for various scenes, again held for various lengths of time.



Regarding the studio, Billboard of June 24, 1957 reported:

Soundac Productions of 2133 N. W. 11th Ave., Miami, Fla., has added 2,500 feet of new executive offices and art production rooms. The new facilities have been constructed around an exclosed patio and heated swimming pool for the convenience of out-of-state agency friends who fly down for a day or two. In this way, they can combine business and pleasure without leaving the premises. Currently the company is producing a series of 78 color animated half-hour shows. The series, titled, “The Adventures of Colonel Bleep,” is being readied for the syndication market.

It had been making commercials; some of the company’s clients in 1955 were Howard Johnson’s, Pan Am, Sohio and Sylvania. It operated under the eyes of Jack Schleh, Robert D. Buchanan and Bob Biddlecomb. In 1965, the studio also produced one of the more laughable (and we don’t mean funny) cartoon series when it signed a deal with Trans-Lux to distribute The Mighty Mister Titan..

We’ll profile one of the men behind the series in a future post.

Johnny Carson’s On His Way

Depending on your age, Johnny Carson is still the King of Late Night Television. As the TV has changed since Carson’s retirement from The Tonight Show in 1992, that opinion likely won’t change.

Carson came up through the ranks, hosting the game show Who Do You Trust? [sic] before being tapped to replace Jack Paar in 1962. Interestingly, both men were Jack Benny protégés.

TV Guide watched his career blossom, and came up with a feature story in its issue of September 3, 1955 after Carson got a surprise break. The story has no byline. Unfortunately, the black-and-white photo below ended up in the gutter between two pages so the middle part of it is missing.

Young Man With A Grin
JOHNNY CARSON HOPES IT'S HERE TO STAY
With many a rataplan on the publicity drums, CBS has launched 29-year-old Johnny Carson as the first network comedian to do his show from Hollywood since an old man of 35 named George Gobel.
The inevitable comparison of Carson and Gobel doesn’t seem to be bothering anybody except TV columnists, who dearly love to make such comparisons.
Carson, a straightforward young man with a pleasant grin which gets a lot of mileage on and off his Thursday night show, fields the Gobel question with the ease of a shortstop throwing out a slow runner at first base.
“We expected to be compared to Gobel,” he admits. (Carson invariably—and refreshingly—uses the editorial “we” when referring to his show, an apparently unconscious compliment to his staff.) “We’re both low-pressure; we both underplay. Gobel is the hottest thing in the field right now, so naturally anyone coming along with even an approximation of his style is going to be compared to him.
“But frankly, we don’t think viewers look at it that way at all. If you entertain them, they’ll stay with you. If you don’t, they’ll tune you out. We think it’s as simple as that.”

Carson is a tall, lanky lad with a boyish appearance that makes him look even younger than he is, a fact which may drive somewhat more venerable funnymen like Jack Benny to hold their heads in their hands and groan softly.
The same Mr. Benny, however, is on record as having stated publicly—not once, but several times—that Johnny Carson is CBS’ hottest young comedy prospect in years.
When Red Skelton bopped his head against a non-breakaway breakaway wall during rehearsal one day last winter, Carson received a hurry call to fill the breach. “All the way into the studio,” he says, “I kept trying to remember sure-fire gags. It was all so fast, I really didn’t have time to get into a nervous tizzy.”
It was Benny who led the raving afterward. “Great,” he kept insisting, buttonholing everyone in sight, “just great. The kid is great.”
Support like this never hurts. CBS, which had been toying with Carson, suddenly got serious about finding a format for him. Egged on by Benny (“No wonder they can’t sell him—he’s too good, too intelligent—they’re all looking for pie throwers”), the network put him on the air June 30, complete with two sponsors, and the fate of young Mr. Carson was thenceforth squarely up to the viewers.
Aside from a natural flair for the quieter kind of comedy, Carson is both a listener and a worker. Besides shouldering the burden of being a young comedian tossed into the network whirlpool, he plays an important part in the writing and casting of the show, chores which are generally full-time jobs in themselves.
Right off, Carson and his writers decided to concoct the show strictly on a week-to-week basis. “We’ve got to avoid the trap of doing the same sort of sketch or routine on every show,” he explains, with the business-like air of a brush salesman outlining the year’s product. “We parodied Person to Person and What’s My Line? on our first two shows, for instance, but then we skipped parodies for a while. If we’d done many more, the audience would start looking for them—and how many shows can you parody? We’ll do them as the occasion demands. But not too often.”
He also plans to go easy on the husband-and-wife sketches. “That’s an even worse trap,” he says. “You’ve got to do that sort of thing brilliantly at this point, to get away with it at all. We’d rather keep trying to make the show as different as possible.”
Carson does plan, however, to use his wife, Jody, on the show on what might be called an irregularly regular basis; and, until he signed singer Jill Corey for an eight-week stint, she was the only girl with any reasonable expectation of sticking. Carson already had run through several singers trying to find one who fitted, and even considered using a different one every week.
“Who knows?” Johnny says almost cheerfully, when queried about plans for specific dates. “We may not even be on the air by that time.”

Carson was born in Corning, Iowa, moving at the age of 8 to Norfolk, Neb., where he later made himself a small reputation as a mail order-tutored magician and ventriloquist. He had a hitch in the Navy during World War II, went through the University of Nebraska on the GI Bill and got his early TV experience, beginning in 1948, on WOW-TV, Omaha.
An old family friend, CBS-TV producer Bill Brennan, talked him into coming to Hollywood. Carson moved in 1950. He and Jody, whom he met in college and married in 1949, now have three young boys—Kit, five; Ricky, three, and Cory, just pushing two.
Carson spent his first year in Hollywood as a staff announcer with the local CBS station, KNXT, meanwhile working up a format for something of his own. In the fall of 1951 he started a local show, Carson’s Cellar. It lasted 26 weeks and was pronounced reasonably successful. Later, CBS gave him a crack at emceeing a summer show, Earn Your Vacation. He did all right. He also continued writing on the side, including monologs for Red Skelton—and that was one thing that didn’t get knocked out of Skelton’s head when he hit that breakaway-proof wall.
He hollered for Carson, and Carson came running.
Which is as good a way as any for a young comedian to be pushed into his own show these days.
“I have sent Red,” Carson says gratefully, “a large bottle of aspirin.”

Van Beuren Jungle

Don and Waffles run into weird, made-up creatures in the jungle in Jungle Jazz (1930).

It’s typical fare. Waffles stands there while Don goes through gyrations of fear. He twists his body around when he sees one fuzzy ball.



Another with horns pokes his head into the foreground and shows off his teeth. Waffles shakes in a cycle.



Oh, and there are large spider-like things with skulls for heads in this jungle, too. Waffles twirls around and runs out of the scene.



The cartoon ends with a quartet of animals singing, with their heads zooming toward the camera.

John Foster and Harry Bailey get a "by" credit, with Gene Rodemich supplying the score.