The Impatient Patient

This blog has neglected Norm McCabe’s career as a director at Warner Bros. It hasn’t been totally deliberate. For one thing, decent quality versions of a number of his cartoons haven’t been available. And for another, some of them just don’t do anything for me. I can’t get into his one-shot characters.

Here’s the list of McCabe’s directorial efforts for Leon Schlesinger, in order of release. There were only 13 in all.

The Timid Toreador (with Bob Clampett), Production 9638, released December 21, 1940
Porky’s Snooze Reel (with Bob Clampett), Production 9772, released January 11, 1941
Robinson Crusoe Jr., Production 172, released October 25, 1941
Who’s Who in the Zoo, Production 224, released February 14, 1942
Daffy’s Southern Exposure, Production 442, released May 2, 1942
Hobby Horse-Laffs, Production 768, released June 6, 1942
Gopher Goofy, Production 440, released June 27, 1942
The Ducktators, Production 770, released August 1, 1942
The Impatient Patient, Production 774, released September 5, 1942
The Daffy Duckaroo, Production 802, released October 24, 1942
Confusions of a Nutzy Spy, Production 804, released January 21, 1943
Hop and Go, Production 1054, released March 27, 1943
Tokio Jokio, Production 1058, released May 15, 1943

Why did McCabe co-direct a pair with Clampett? Clampett needed to take sick leave, so McCabe finished the cartoons for him. When Clampett moved to take over to Tex Avery’s unit in fall 1941, McCabe was given the Clampett unit. There was shortly a change. Clampett had worked in a separate building as Ray Katz Productions, which was considered a different studio for union bargaining purposes. When McCabe took charge, his unit was soon moved in with the rest of Leon Schlesinger's operations at Fernwood and Van Ness. Ray Katz Productions quietly disppeared. Soon Warners wanted half the Looney Tunes in colour. McCabe was assigned all the black and white ones.

His story crew was Tubby Millar with ex-Disneyite Don Christensen added later (they rotated credits).

I enjoyed Daffy’s Southern Exposure, so I thought I’d take a look at another of McCabe’s Daffy cartoons—The Impatient Patient. It’s been at least 50 years since I’ve seen it.

McCabe doesn’t do a bad job here. There’s an opening pan with overlays of a swamp. Daffy’s doing a parody of the old song “Chloe” that Spike Jones revived a few years later. Chloe turns out to be the persona Dr. Jerkyl takes on when he drinks some potion. The cartoon ends with a Red Skelton radio show reference after a Baby Snooks reference.

Daffy still is a bit of the crazy, woo-hoo Daffy and a bit of the later smart Daffy, while Chloe is just too much of a dullard to really be threatening, try as Carl Stalling might to set an atmosphere of drama with his score. For example, Christensen’s story has Chloe break into a dance. A better director-writer team could have seized on that and turned it into a running gag (imagine what Avery might have done with it). In fact, it took me some time to figure out the first dance music was coming from a radio Daffy accidentally turned on.

There’s a throwaway wartime gag, too. The camera pans across some boiling liquid in a chemistry set’s glass tubing. There’s dark metal piping in the foreground panned at a different speed to create depth.



The camera moves in as the liquid makes its way into a glass bowl.



The camera pulls back to reveal it’s coffee. Note the sugar bowl is chained. Sugar began to be rationed in the U.S. about four months before this cartoon appeared in theatres.



And a bit of the woo-hoo Daffy.



McCabe started out as an in-betweener in 1932. In November 1942, he was inducted into First Motion Picture Unit of Army Air Force. By law, he was supposed to be offered his former job when the war ended. Instead, in 1946, he was hired as a director by Meridian Pictures, which intended to make industrial and educational cartoons (Harry Love was his art director). One of his cartoons for Meridian’s subsidiary, Oscar Productions, can be found here. In August 1952, he replaced Howard Swift as animation director of Five Star Productions. He made stops at other commercial studios. McCabe went to work for old Warners colleague Friz Freleng at DePatie-Freleng and ended up back at Warners itself working on its TV cartoons beloved by ‘90s kids until retirement in 1996. You can find a filmography elsewhere on-line.

McCabe died in 2006, well into a time period where fans could check out some of his work (even if it had been ruined years earlier by cheap colourised tracings, and a whole new generation of animators could learn from one of the real pioneers of sound cartoons and the last of the Schlesinger directors.

P.S.: I should have remembered Dexon Baxter profiled McCabe. Learn much more about Warner Bros.’ most famous Geordie in this article.

The Kill the Wabbit Cartoon

This blog has not touched What’s Opera, Doc? during its 11 years on the internet because the cartoon has been written about to death and there really isn’t anything new to say.

But it’s such a famous cartoon, I can’t really skip it. I’ll just post a few poses (and probably some in-betweens) showing Bugs gesticulating as he sings to Elmer Fudd, accompanied by a solo French horn.

O, Mighty Hunter, ‘twill be quite a task.
How will you do it, might I enquire to osk?

(The broad ‘a’ in “ask” satirises the pretentiousness of opera).

Since Bugs is singing on stage, he takes a deep breath before his next line.

It would not be a Chuck Jones cartoon without a coy side-glance in profile.

Bugs finishes his line and balls up his hands. I don’t get the weird deformed foot Bugs develops.

People watching the cartoon probably didn’t notice, but in the previous two lines of the song, Bugs is standing in front of a completely different background.

To give you an idea how long the cartoon was in the system, here are the other Jones shorts around this time.

Bugs’ Bonnets, Production 1387, released Jan. 14, 1956.
Animators: Abe Levitow, Dick Thompson, Ken Harris, Ben Washam. Layout: Bob Gribbroek.

Barbary-Coast Bunny, Production 1389, released July 21, 1956.
Animators: Abe Levitow, Dick Thompson, Ken Harris. Layout: Bob Gribbroek.

Rocket-Bye Baby, Production 1395, released August 4, 1956.
Animators: Abe Levitow, Dick Thompson, Ken Harris. Layout: Ernie Nordli.

What’s Opera, Doc?, Production 1397, released July 6, 1957.
Animators: Abe Levitow, Dick Thompson, Ken Harris. Layout: Maurice Noble.

Gee Whiz-z-z-z, Production 1399, released May 5, 1956.
Animators: Abe Levitow, Dick Thompson, Ken Harris, Ben Washam. Layout: Ernie Nordli.

Maurice Noble’s name falls between two cartoons with Ernie Nordli. Nordli had drawn layouts for What’s Opera, Doc? but when Noble returned to the studio, he chucked them all and started afresh. (Get it? “Chucked.” As in “Jones?” Okay, so I need a new writer).

The cartoon was also made during one of Ben Washam’s absences; at least, he wasn’t credited on the short.

The short benefits from the Warner Bros. studio orchestra. Can you imagine what it would sound like a few years later with a chintzy, dissonant score that Bill Lava wrote for the cartoons (to be fair to Lava, he was a capable composer but his cartoon work reeks of low budget). Certainly, Milt Franklyn’s ability to snip from Wagner to come up with this effective score is an admirable achievement (30 years earlier, Franklyn was fronting a regional dance band).

Yes, the cartoon has probably been over-seen and over-analysed to the point that some may not want to watch it any more. There are a number of Bugs Bunny cartoons I like far, far better than this, but I’ll take it over Bugs’ Bonnets any day.

Stop! Go! Stop!

There are animation fans who chant a mantra of “Cartoony!” In other words, if animation isn’t over the top, it’s not a real cartoon.

Nonsense.

You won’t find wild takes in a Friz Freleng-directed short, but you’ll find a lot of laughs and incredible timing in his best cartoons. He had a good run of them toward the end of the ‘40s.

One of my favourite Bugs Bunny cartoons is Bugs Bunny Rides Again (1948), where Freleng and writers Tedd Pierce and Mike Maltese take the rabbit and Yosemite Sam through a string of Western clichés. There are at least two perfect bits of timing in the short—one when Sam and his horse smash into a brick wall to the strains of the William Tell Overture, and then when Sam high-steps to his right and drops into a mine shaft. Sam’s expression changes in consecutive frames and he’s held at the edge by Freleng just long enough before the fall.

There’s a twist on a Tex Avery-style joke at the opening of the cartoon. It’s the old “traffic” gag, where a traffic signal controls some non-traffic objects; in this case, bullets.

Below are select frames that give you an idea. The bullets obey the traffic signs—except for one little straggler bullet at the end (several of Freleng’s cartoons have a gag that involves a little character following a group of larger characters).

The Freleng unit's animators are Ken Champin, Manny Perez, Virgil Ross and Gerry Chiniquy.

Radio's Mrs. Terwilleger and a Cartoon Parrot's Mother

There’s an undeniable link between the Golden Ages of Animation and Radio. The big stars of radio were the subject of caricature and parody in cartoons from a number of studios, from Disney to Mintz. And the lesser stars of radio found employment providing voices for cartoon characters.

Mel Blanc was front-and-centre on the list. In 1934, he was appearing at a store opening in Salem, Oregon. A year later, he found work on KFWB on Johnny Murray’s Variety show. KFWB was owned by Warner Bros. which, as we all know, housed the Leon Schlesinger cartoon studio.

But there were many, many others who came up from the ranks of radio (including quite a number from KFWB) to voice cartoons—Arthur Q. Bryan, Sara Berner, Bea Benaderet, Frank Graham, Marvin Miller and, of course, June Foray, are just a few.

There was another cartoon actress who was a big star on radio—that is, until vaudevillians came west to make movies and started taking over the airwaves in the early ‘30s. Radio on the West Coast bloomed in 1922, with more stations in Los Angeles than New York, and created its own star system and chains of stations from Seattle to Hollywood.

One of those stars was Elvia Allman.

She, too, was on KFWB’s Johnny Murray show. But she was big enough to have her own show, Elvia Allman’s Surprise Package on KHJ in 1929. She got a shot at the big time in 1933—a 13-week contract for a 15-minute show of satiric songs broadcast on NBC Red from New York. At the end of it, she came back to Los Angeles. When the big stars settled in California and filled the network programme slots, Allman became a supporting actress, one in great demand. She even made some films. One was Melody For Hire (1941) that also included Irene Ryan. The two would work together in the 1960s as frenemies on The Beverly Hillbillies.

The Los Angeles Times profiled her in the “Ether Etchings” column of December 16, 1934.

Sent to get a story about Elvia Allman, this scribble arrived on the Merrymaker stage at KHJ yesterday, hoping to find the elongated comedienne at rehearsal . . . the Stage was deserted except for one old gal who was busy rocking in a chair . . . “Hey, lady,” we heyyed, “do you know anything about Elvia Allman?”
“Do I know anything about Elvia Allman? Does Mrs. Terwilleger know anything about Elvia Allman? Young man, I know everything worth knowing about her—and a lot that's not worth knowing either, but I wouldn't want you to mention that.”
FROM CAROLINA
So Mrs. Terwilleger said she'd tell everything, but for me not to tell, but If I did tell, to tell whomever I tell not to tell—so, maybe, I better not tell . . .
That Elvia was born in Spencer, N. C., but moved to Texas before she found out what the Governor of North Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina—or vice versa.
“In fact," said Mrs. Terwilliger, “she moved to Texas just in time to help Davy Crockett at the Alamo. Not that I am one to talk about another girl . . . Texas steered her to Chicago at the age of 18.
FIRST STAGE JOB
“Her first stage job was with the ‘Merchant of Venice,’ though I’m not the one to say she was in the original production! . . . also played in ‘Smilin’ Through’ . . . bet she got the job because she had such a big grin . . . went to New York and they say (not that I'd believe gossipers) that the dern near starved to death—that's why she's so skinny . . . she was too tall for an ingenue, too young for second business roles and too light for heavies . . . just seemed to be misfit, if you know what I mean, young man.
“She came to California with the gold rush, or maybe it was only eight years ago, got a job with KHJ . . . knowing nothing about radio she was made a program director . . . she also read children's poems (with gestures) . . . then Don Lee bought the station--and the same gestures . . . she was a staff artist for six years, doubling as off stage screamer and tragedienne.
IN TIME FOR BANK-CLOSING
“In 1932 she went to New York to join N.B.C. for a thirteen-week series . . . missed earthquake out here but got there in time for the bank closing, which probably meant nothing to her anyway . . . she sings a pretty fair tune, too, though I have watch her very closely . . .”
You've probably guessed that Mrs. Terwilleger is Elvia’s favorite person (seeing as they're the same person) so we’ll continue without quotation marks . . . Elvia likes to go to the beach--as long as she doesn’t get wet . . . likes a kayak (a boat—not an animal) . . . her favorite performers are Fanny Brice and Beatrice Lillie . . . her favorite radio folk are John Charles Thomas, Mary Eastman, Gladys Swarthout and a singer named B. Crosby.

There’s a little sidebar, of sorts, courtesy of the Los Angeles Evening Post of August 11, 1934.

Elvia Allman received a phone call the other morning.
“Hello Mrs. Terwilliger,” said a masculine voice, “this is Mr. Dinwiddie. I’ll be glad to come over on your porch any time you say.”
Elvia for once was speechless. The name “Mr. Dinwiddie,” had been applied to one of her characters without any knowledge that there was such a name in real life.
Elvia’s caller was quite nice about it. He admitted that he got a terrible ribbing from the boys in the office on Monday morning following Elvia’s act on the KHJ Merrymakers Sunday night, but said that he didn't mind because he enjoys the skit himself.

Allman was given another chance at stardom. She was the m.c. for a syndicated series called “Komedy Kingdom.” You know how funny it’s going to be when comedy is spelled with a “k.” It did have a few good acts, including Bob Burns, Morey Amsterdam and Allman herself doing comic monologues in character. The show seems to have debuted in late 1936 and was broadcast on stations in the U.S., Canada and Australia.

For the most part, after enough discs were cut to make the series profitable, Allman supported big-name comedy acts. Here’s a short piece from Noel Corbett’s “Valley Voices” column in the North Hollywood Valley Times, May 11, 1943.

Elvia Allman is not the kind of actress who needs mood music or five minutes of silent home thought to get herself into character. Not Elvia. The tall, slender red head, who is considered one of radio’s top actresses, is more likely to be found engrossed in a game of gin rummy till time to say her lines.
“Tootsie Sagwell” on Burns and Allen, Mrs. Niles, on “Comedy Caravan,” Cobina, of the famous “Brenda and Cobina”—all Elvia. Most of her theatrical career has been confined to radio with occasional flings in the movies; Elvia doesn’t know where she got the inclination for a stage career, since none of her family has ever been remotely connected with things of the theatre.
“Started out with elocution lessons,” grins the actress, “when I was attending a convent school in Wichita Falls, Texas.” (And here might be a logical place to point out that the girl with the variable voice was born in a town in North Carolina—the name of which she cannot recall! “Couldn’t have been very important,” she frowned, “or I'm sure I’d remember it.”)
After graduation from school, Elvia moved to California where she soon found radio work as mistress of ceremonies on a show called “Surprise Package.” This led to a stint in New York on a show where, she confesses wryly, I was known as the California Cocktail Girl—why I don’t know.”
After the New York session, California Cocktail Girl returned to the West Coast to pick up her radio career and become one of Hollywood’s top radio comediennes.
Actress Allman likes to play gin rummy (and that’s an understatement), wears slacks and reads all types of books. She is always willing to oblige autograph seekers, but confesses that after all these years, she never knows what to write!

By this time, Allman had given up her cartoon work. She was never credited on screen. I first noticed her when, close to 60 years ago, I was watching I Wanna Be a Sailor (1937) for the umpteenth time when Petey Parrot’s mother started talking and I suddenly realised “That’s Elverna Bradshaw!” Allman played the character on The Beverly Hillbillies.

The cartoon was directed by Tex Avery, who cast her as Kate Hepburn-sounding characters in I Only Have Eyes For You and Little Red Walking Hood (both 1937).

Jerry Beck’s “Cartoon Research” site says Columbia/Mintz hired her for The Foolish Bunny (directed by Art Davis, 1938), Window Shopping (Sid Marcus, 1938) and Lucky Pigs (Ben Harrison, 1939), but I don’t hear her in the first two and doubt she’s in the third. On the other hand, it sounds like her as Miss Cud in I Haven’t Got a Hat (Friz Freleng, 1935), especially the way she says “Porky Pig.”

Allman’s Hepburn voice shouldn’t be mistaken for Sara Berner’s Hepburn, which is lighter and higher pitched than Allman’s.

This is not a list or a filmography, but I should point out one of Allman’s most famous TV roles was the bossy chocolate factory manager on I Love Lucy.

After retiring, she devoted herself to community service. She volunteered with Meals on Wheels and taught English to underprivileged children. A little sadder is when broadcaster Chuck Schaden interviewed her about her career, she couldn’t recollect all that much.

Allman was 88 when she died in Los Angeles in 1992.

Note: this post was written months ago before the release of Keith Scott’s book on voice actors. He says Allman is not the “Cobina” voice in Goofy Groceries (1941) or Eatin’ on the Cuff (1942). It’s Sara Berner doing her best Allman imitation.

Gold Diggers Pan

Before Screwy Squirrel (1944) and A Wild Hare (1940), with its woodsy opening, Tex Avery loved to start his cartoons with a long left-to-right pan over scenery.

In fact, he did it in the first cartoon he directed, Gold Diggers of ‘49.

Avery’s cinematography has the shot starting in almost darkness. The camera is focused on cacti. As the camera pans, the setting comes into the clear and Avery stops to move in on a calendar in a covered wagon, then a sign on a saloon with the word “GOLD” crossed out and, finally, on a general store. Unfortunately, the colour isn't consistent so we can't snip it together into a long drawings. We'll give you bits of it.

Unlike later pans, objects in the foreground move at the pace as the background. Later, Avery would have foreground items on cels shot at a different speed than the background to the an illusion of depth.

There’s an all-star roster on the opening credits with animation credits given to Chuck Jones and Bob Clampett and the score to future Oscar-winner Bernie Brown. Unfortunately, the background painter is not mentioned. It would be a few more years before layout and background artists got screen scredit.

By the way, Leonard Maltin’s Of Mice and Magic and the Beck and Friedwald book on the Warners cartoons both state this short was released on January 6, 1936. I cannot find evidence that is true. I’ve found indesputable evidence to the contrary. The Copyright Catalogue says the cartoon was copyrighted on January 6th, but the Motion Picture Herald of November 9, 1935 has a review of it by a small-town theatre manager. There are a number of theatre ads in newspapers of November 1935 announcing the cartoon was playing (the one to the right is from a Vermont paper of November 7), and the Motion Picture Herald of November 8th has a review from a theatre manager, so I reject the idea this cartoon was first released in 1936.

The Women's University Club in Los Angeles reviewed the film. "Poor. Not for children," it says. Oh, well. It liked Iwerks' Balloon Land.

They Love That Pagan Moon

There’s such a similarity among the Harman-Ising Merrie Melodies, something seems familiar in all of them, whether it’s spitting, razzberries, butts being attacked, the woman falsetto voice or any number of things.

Starting with Red Headed Baby (1931), the shorts might feature cycle animation of a crowd of characters cheering and applauding at the camera, a scene sometimes reused later in the cartoon.

In Pagan Moon (1932), the cycle consists of 13 drawings; an unusual number considering the even numbers (16 frames per inch, 24 frames per second) found in animation.



Here’s the cycle at about the speed it is in the cartoon.



Ham Hamilton and Norm Blackburn (later a TV executive with NBC) are the credited animators.