A-Door-ing Bugs Bunny

Riff-Raff Sam keeps pulling off door after door to get into a desert fortress where Bugs Bunny is holed up in Sahara Hare (1955). Naturally, the rabbit is responsible for the multiple doors.



Of course, Bugs adds something extra.



“I wonder if he’s stubborn enough to open all those doors?” Bugs asks himself.



Cut to a closer shot. I love the colour change to indicate the explosion.



Virgil Ross is still away from the studio playing piano, so the animators here are Ted Bonnicksen, Gerry Chiniquy and Art Davis. Irv "Wyner" Weiner painted the backgrounds.

Bay Area Benny

Jack Benny was a hit wherever he went. Despite being on radio and TV in the first half of the 1950s, he was able to get away to appear with his act in public.

One jaunt was to San Francisco, where he also recorded two radio shows that aired in the first two weeks of May 1953. One included Gisele Mackenzie, who was included in Jack’s road troupe.

Benny’s arrival in any town began with a news conference and, then, interviews with individual members of the media. Here’s how the San Francisco Examiner reported it on April 3, 1953.

Jack Benny Arrives in S. F. For Stage Stint, Guild Frolic
Jack Benny arrived in San Francisco yesterday to make arrangements for his appearance at the nineteenth annual Newspaper Guild Frolic and the premier of his "Variety Review" at the Curran Theater.
The fast joking comedian and his new all-star variety show will headline the entertainment at the Newspaper Guild Frolic, to be held at the Curran on Monday night, April 20.
Benny's show will open its regular three week run at the theater the following night.
Before leaving the Southern Pacific's Lark for the Fairmont Hotel yesterday, Benny said he was looking forward to appearing in his stage show. It will be his first theater appearance here in eighteen years.
"I enjoy radio and television but I like the stage best," he said. Asked about the new three dimensional movies, he replied:
"I look bad enough on one-D; why should I try three-D?"
Benny, who makes capital of the fact that he watches the pennies closely, shouldered a bag of golf clubs and picked up his own suitcases.
"This isn't to save a tip," he explained. "I just need the exercise."
He brought the golf clubs to his daughter, Joan, 18, a student at Stanford.
"It would have cost at least $1.25 to ship them," he said.
A little later he scooted into Macy's department store where the theme of their eighth annual pre-Easter flower show is emblazoned "Great Musical Moments." Undaunted by the background of $50,000 worth of floral artistry, Benny whipped out one of his violins to give a few pointers on music.
Benny will record two shows for CBS while here. He will be guest of honor tonight at the weekly Gang Dinner of the Press and Union League Club.
Tickets for the Newspaper Guild Frolic are available at the Crane box office, 245 Powell Street. Mail orders for the regular run of the "Variety Review" are being accepted at the Curran Theater.

To give you an idea of the acts that appeared, let’s see what the city’s other paper, the San Francisco Chronicle had to say. This is from April 23, 1953.

Casual Benny Banter Ranks With Kaye Wit
By WILLIAM HOGAN
AS AN OCCASION MEMBER of the “vast radio audience,” I have been able to take the Jack Benny show or leave it alone these many years, of a Sunday evening. But I intend to tune in regularly for now on to find if Benny comes across on the air, or on television, the way he did Tuesday night at the intimate Curran Theater.
Benny is the deftest, subtlest, most accomplished comedian to turn up here at lease [sic] since Danny Kaye. The Variety Revue that surrounds him is crisply paced, the best yet in this upper-crust vaudeville format that has come our way regularly since the Judy Garland show a year or so back.
What makes Benny run? For one thing, it is timing—wonderful timing, and a superb indifference to what’s going on around him. Even when some of his gags are tired.
Benny can simply stand on stage with a bored look, light a cigar, gaze out at the audience (as if he hated it) and draw a roar. He puts on a pair of glasses, explains he doesn’t need them—just uses them for seeing. And somehow breaks up the paying customers. “Cheaper than buying a dog,” he explains, topping himself.
Benny survives a ridiculous interruption in his patter—a corny girl trio—and draws on his timing to exploit the interruption for enormous fun. Few comedians can do so much with so little.

LIKE DANNY KAYE’S, Benny’s comedy style (a very different one) defies analysis. Some of it stems from his radio background; some from his basic training in vaudeville years before. When he appears, an audience is ready to accept him as a character. Yet, at the Curran on Tuesday, few were prepared to find Benny’s casual air something close to a unique comic art—at least comedy technique ground like the Mt. Palomar lens.
Actually, there is little substance to Benny’s hour on stage. He attempts to play his violin; nobody is interested. He talks about people he works with on the radio, his Hollywood neighbors. He discusses his radio props, the Maxwell (now a Chevrolet, he explains; he took it to a Danish mechanic).
He introduces Zeke Benny’s Beverly Hillbilly band in a neatly-staged bit in which he finally does play the fiddle (“You Are My Sunshine”). And that’s about it. Yet the audience, as a result of Benny’s suave, likeable banter (thoroughly clean, incidentally), finds itself having a wonderful time.
The ending of the act is strictly from radio, but ingenious. Benny plays his violin in front of a spotlight. From a soundtrack, his voice give[s] his impression of the evening and the audience.
He’s on just long enough to make an audience want to drop into the Curran again.
AS BENNY SAYS, he may not be good himself, but he can sure pick the winners. The variety show that precedes him is an example of what he means.
The show stopper is Sammy Davis Jr., junior member of the Will Mastin Trio. Davis is on his way to becoming THE great Negro entertainer of our day, a Bill Robinson plus a sharp, imaginative comedy style. His impersonations of Lanza, Laine, Jerry Lewis, Johnnie Ray and others brought down the house. Davis’ dancing is skilled and polished—picked up, he explains, from his partners, his father and uncle.
Giselle Mackenzie [sic], TV and recording personality, brings a specialized, vigorous singing style to the show. She’s another performer who interrupts Benny later on in the proceedings. Other acts, all top-bracket variety turns, include Frakson, a magician; The Martells & Mignon, dancers; The Carsony Brothers, a breathtaking acrobatic act. They set the pace, wind up the audience for the headliner—and Benny comes through, as advertised.
THE MUSICAL DIRECTION by Mahlon Merrick and staging by Macklin Megley—probably best in the business of pacing and designing variety shows—insure the evening of becoming strictly big time. The Jack Benny Variety Review is everyone’s dish—and don’t forget the youngsters.

The trip was a financial success for Benny. The Examiner reported he took in $131,300 over the three weeks, with the profits rising every week. Lou Lurie, who owned the Curran, said Benny could have filled the theatre for another three weeks, but he had a TV show to do, and Phil Silvers had already been booked.

Hens, A Witch and Fertilizer

What’s that, you say? I haven’t written about June Foray for a while?

Yes, you’re right.

If you’re akin to me, whenever you hear her voice, happiness and maybe even excitement pours over you, and you exclaim “It’s June Foray!” A simple pleasure in life, it is, but a pleasure nonetheless. I’ve always liked her work.

I unexpectedly caught her on a broadcast of the Henry Morgan variety show on ABC which emanated from the West Coast (Morgan was based in New York). She wasn’t credited, but you can’t miss June Foray.

Here’s an article on her we haven’t passed along before. It’s from the July 9, 1959 edition of the Valley Times. This is around the time Jay Ward was plying her with martinis to convince her to be part of the cast of a cartoon series in the works about a moose and squirrel. It sums up much of her career to date, though it skips past her work on radio with Steve Allen and on television with Johnny Carson, before both of them became huge TV stars.

PET FANCIER
Tiny Actress In Big Voice Roles
By DAVE HOLLAND
The radio script called for several men’s voices and several women’s voices, so the producer called for several men but only one woman.
She was June Foray of Woodland Hills, an unusually talented actress who easily can produce the voices for any age-any type female any age-any character for which the script might call.
As an example of her artistry, Miss Foray once conducted a three-minute conversation with herself on radio and did such an able job that the listeners never even suspected that they weren’t listening to two women.
It's rather incongruous to imagine a big, screeching voice of a hideous old witch coming from a woman as tiny as Miss Foray, who, if she emerged soaking wet from her new swimming pool, wouldn’t weigh 100 pounds.
Yet, she can accurately mimic sounds ranging from sultry Tahitian beauties to friendly cats, such as she’s doing now, furnishing the voice for “Clementine, the talking cat,” in Jerry Lewis’s new Paramount picture, "Visit to a Small Planet."
Through another of her movie accomplishments, Miss Foray has endeared herself to movie-goers with her portrayal of “Granny” in the Warner Brothers cartoon series, “Tweety.”
Dabbles In Paint
Miss Foray loves to dabble with oil paints in doing portraits and with house paints as she and her writer-husband, Hobart Donovan, portray do-it-yourselfers around their new Woodland Hills home. She began her professional career as a child radio actress in her home town of Springfield, Mass.
Coming to Hollywood, Miss Foray met Donovan, whom she married in 1955 when he was producer-writer-director of the popular NBC “Smilin’ Ed McConnell” radio show in 1945.
Then followed weekly live performances for seven years with the Smilin’ Ed show, during which time Miss Foray did all the female parts, sharing the microphone with Hans Conreid [sic], William Conrad, John Dehner and Marvin Miller, among others.
Five-Year Contract
Signing a five-year contract with Capitol records, lending her talents to those of Mel Blanc, Stan Freberg, Daws Butler, and Pinto Colvig, the voice for "Goofy, Miss Foray continued her interesting career which includes appearances on the radio programs of Bob Hope, Jimmy Durante and the late Fanny Brice.
It was during her stay with Capitol that she did all the female voices on Stan Freberg’s recording of “St. George and the Dragonette.”
Miss Foray’s talents constantly are in demand for radio and TV commercials and she has worked for the Disney Studios in such features as “Cinderella,” in which she portrayed “Lucifer, the Cat,” and in “Peter Pan,” doing the parts of the old Indian squaw and two of the three mermaids.
Owns Pets
Since she does so many impersonations of cats and dogs in her work, it’s only natural that she owns a cat and two dogs.
“Our cat is a very independent ‘Thomas’ named Henry,” Miss Foray said. “One of the dogs is a dachshund named Katrina, and the other is a great big champion mongrel named Mulligan. We call him Mulligan because he’s such a delightful mixture. My husband and I just love him.”
And the public just loves Miss Foray, because she’s such a delightful mixture of the voices it knows so well.

A very brief look at some newspaper stories for 1959 reveals Foray voiced a mouse in a Shirley Temple Storybook episode, voiced Adam Cain on 77 Sunset Strip, provided voices for some Red Cross public service announcements, and looped dialogue for a heroine with the wrong accent on Rawhide (at $150 for two hours). There were several voices for Bar-Sep Productions’ The Sun Sets in Hell. June was part of the English-language dubbing team for the Russian animated feature The Snow Queen.

She found time to appear on You Asked For It and on the local L.A. TV Red Rowe Show. Oh, and she was also involved with the Hollywood Chapter of AFTRA.

Then there were commercials. Let’s find out about one campaign from The Hollywood Reporter of Jan. 29, 1959. The column on the right is from Broadcasting magazine, May 18, 1959.

ON THE AIR
by HANK GRANT
IT ISN’T THE PRINCIPLE—IT’S THE MONEY OF THE THING . . . There’s been plenty of amused comment re that anonymous, sultry-sexy voice on radio’s Bandini fertilizer commercials . . . But this doesn’t bother June Foray (yep, it’s she) who’s even more amused at actors who “snobbishly” turn down blurb offers . . . Actually, June has turned down straight thesping roles, rather than lose a blurb commitment . . . Reason? . . . “Money!” says the petite 95-pounder, “And when acting ceases to be a business, I’ll get out of it! I rarely make less than four figures for a filmed TV commercial, just a couple of hundred for three days week on a drama . . . And yet some actors I know, many of them momentarily strapped, actually instruct their agents never to submit them for commercial jobs!”
June points to Stan Freberg, Mel Blanc and Gloria Wood as three examples of performers who’ve gained, rather than lost, dignity from their blurb chores . . . “All of us can spot the ‘actor’ who’s grudgingly accepted a blurb job. His condescending air is bad enough but his deaf ear is too much—this on a one-minute commercial that many times costs as much as a half-hour film! . . . As for ‘name’ stars who fear loss of prestige, what the difference between a printed endorsement with their picture in a magazine ad and a spoken product-push on air?” . . . Parting June Jab: “For my first radio commercial, I got five dollars and all the cod liver oil I could drink—Now I can buy my own cod liver oil and even pick up the tab for the boys in the back room!”

What about Warner Bros. cartoons released in 1959 (remember, voice sessions could have been done a year earlier)?


Apes of Wrath, directed by Friz Freleng


Really Scent, directed by Abe Levitow


A Broken Leghorn, directed by Bob McKimson


A Witch's Tangled Hare, directed by Abe Levitow


Unnatural History, directed by Abe Levitow


Tweet Dreams, directed by Friz Freleng


People Are Bunny, directed by Bob McKimson

Oh, yes, we referred to a moose and squirrel cartoon show that debuted in 1959. Here’s an all-too-short interview where June talks about it.

The Greatest Cartoons of All Time

You’ve seen all kinds of lists of the best cartoons of all time.

They’re all bunk. What do people like Jerry Beck know? He’s written, what, maybe one or two books? Anyone can write books. Type one word and then the next. Big deal.

It behooves (look it up) us to present to you the REAL top five cartoon series of all time. Every single one of them puts the “Golden” in “Golden Age.” Drum roll, please, professor.


5. LITTLE AUDREY
Fish, mammy housekeepers, truant officers, she loves them all. Her mixed chorus theme songsters remind us she says “Save for a rainy day.” You’ve heard her say that in many a cartoon.
Then there’s her cheering, cheerful laughter. We can’t hear it enough. Don’t worry, Little Audrey. We’re laughing WITH you, not at you.


4. COOL CAT
You know when you see a swirling line and hear Bill Lava’s lush score to open a cartoon instead of concentric circles, you’re in for top-quality entertainment. Pink Panther? A pale imitation of Cool Cat. Pink didn’t have that groovy ‘60s far-out-ness.
Larry Storch forgot he voiced the character? A minor slip.


3. DAFFY AND SPEEDY
A perfect pairing, far superior to Laurel and Hardy, Felix and Oscar, Gilligan and the Skipper. Lightweights, all. Everyone knows ducks chase mice, especially gringo ducks.
That old “Woo-hoo”-ing Daffy? Unfunny and old hat. Better make that “old sombrero.” This is a Daffy for today’s generation, not Bob Clampett’s (and what did he do after Warner Bros., anyways?).
The only thing that could improve this beloved twosome is if they were directed by Tom Palmer.


2. THE BEARY FAMILY
Who could tire of the screamingly-amusing antics of Charlie Beary? Fixing something himself to save money? No one’s ever done that in a comedy. Mother-in-law coming over? Fresh and unique entertainment.
Add the superior directorial touches of Paul J. Smith, and full, symphonic orchestrations of Walter Greene, and you have non-stop hilarity. We’re talking “Laffs” with two “f”s.

Before we get to Number One, let’s give you our Honorable Mentions:


BUDDY
What was Leon Schlesinger thinking, replacing this charmer with a stuttering pig and a smarty-pants wabbit? What does someone wearing a carnation know about screen comedy? Nothing, that’s what. Saying “That’s all, folks” to this series shows Schlesinger is no buddy to us all.


HAM AND HATTIE
UPA was known the world over for their giggle-fests. This series featured characters that were, well, I’m not quite sure what they were doing. But they were loveable and cuddly. UPA cartoons are worshipped for their painstakingly-crafted, rollicking, slapstick comedy.


AMOS ‘N’ ANDY
Van Beuren’s well-drawn, sensitive portrayal of two white guys as African-Americans has won over fans of ethnic humour for generations. You won’t be “regusted” watching this series, which unfortunately ended after its stars checked and double-checked this fine-grained artwork, got into a Fresh-Air Taxi Cab and quit.

And now, the Greatest of All Time:


1. LUNO
Terrytoons had a challenge, trying to overcome such unpopular “Woolworth” series as Mighty Mouse and Heckle and Jeckle. The retired Paul Terry, counting his money while living in an exclusive gentlemen’s club in New Rochelle, must have been overjoyed with this crowning glory to his studio’s reputation.
Luno features the thrilling adventures of a flying horse, an original idea if ever there was one. Yes, Casper had a flying horse but that was a GHOST horse. This is different.
The studio wisely did not restrict these oft-mistaken-for-Disney cartoons to television alone. They were made available to eager theatre owners for the world to see. Their witty writing alone would make the denizens of the Algonquin Round Table (look it up) lower their collective heads in crimson-faced shame.

Oh, one other thing.

APRIL FOOL!!

Actually, we do have one other thing.

Not everyone reading this blog enjoys exactly the same cartoons or any other kind of entertainment. Yet some people go ballistic if someone dislikes (or make fun of) something they really like. Oh, they’re killing a childhood! One that ended years ago.

Here’s the deal. Watch cartoons you like. Don’t waste time getting worked up if someone disagrees. They’re just cartoons. There are more important things in life that should concern you. You’ll be healthier and happier.

And Luno still sucks.

A Giant Mouse?!

Mr. Terry! Mr. Terry! I have another great idea for a cartoon.
What’s that, Tommy?
There’s the house cat, you see, and this circus animal comes into his home, and he mistakes it for a giant mouse. And the giant mouse keeps beating him up!
Tommy, that sounds like...
Oh, no, Mr. Terry. The animal isn’t a kangaroo. It’s an elephant.
Well, that’s good. As I always say, “Never steal more than you can carry.”

Okay, the dialogue likely didn’t happen. But it is a fact that Bob McKimson’s giant mouse appeared in Hop, Look and Listen (1948), Hippety Hopper (1949) and Pop 'Im, Pop (1950) on theatre screens before Manny Davis’ The Elephant Mouse (1951), written by Tom Morrison for Terrytoons.

One thing McKimson did not have was Jim Tyer. Now, I’m not any kind of expert at identifying animators, but I feel safe in assuming the animation below is by Tyer. He doesn’t do a simple head turn on the cat. Look at the way the head sweeps.

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Love the Terry Brake Squeal? It’s in this cartoon. Love the imitation Ed Wynn voice that Gandy Goose had? It’s in this cartoon? Like the routine where alley cats, who don’t believe there’s a giant mouse, shove their buddy cat back into the house? That’s here, too. (In fairness, the brake squeal is from a production record. Bob and Ray used it on radio, too).

Evidently, Paul Terry was looking for new stars. He tried Dingbat. Dingbat lasted five cartoons (see note in comment section). This was the second cartoon starring Half Pint (who gets his own title card). It was the last one.

The Great Lov-aire

Charles Boyer’s Oscar-nominated performance as the womanising Pepe Le Moko in Algiers (1938) inspired a lot of Boyer impressions (almost always including the word “Casbah”), not to mention the basis of Pepe Le Pew at Warner Bros., though Mel Blanc didn’t impersonate Boyer.

However, Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera employed Boyer’s voice (by Jerry Mann, I suspect) in Solid Serenade (1946), a cartoon best known for Tom singing “Is You Is, Or Is You Ain’t, My Baby.”

In this scene animated by Mike Lah (who drew Tom with more angles and little teeth), the cat mistakes Killer the dog for his girl-friend cat, emoting a la Boyer “You set my soul on fire.” Of course, his eyes are closed, so he doesn’t know it’s the dog.



Scott Bradley plays “That Old Feeling” in the background.

Toodles (or whatever name she is here) strolls over. Tom opens his eyes and realises something is wrong. The reactions are all in pantomime.



Cut to a wider shot as Tom extricates himself from the scene.



Besides Lah, Ed Barge and Ken Muse are credited animators, though Ray Patterson was responsible for the opening and Pete Burness turned out footage as well.

Note: This post was written before Keith Scott's book on cartoon voice actors came out. Jerry Mann is pretending to be Boyer in a soundtrack re-used from The Zoot Cat (1944).

From Van Dyke to Hartman to Cosmic Cow

A number of actresses popped up somewhat regularly on television in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. Some of them got starring or featured roles on comedy shows.

One was Nancy Dussault.

She started out as a cast member in the 1955 version of the Waa-Mu show at Northwestern University near Chicago and made her way to Broadway, where she was nominated for two Tonys in the 1960s.

Anyone wanting fame and fortune back then would likely find it on television rather than the Great White Way, so Dussault began appearing on Tonight, To Tell the Truth, The Bell Telephone Hour and The Garry Moore Show, to name a few.

But once she got some regular employment, there were some hiccups. First, she was hired to play agent Charlie Brill’s wife on The New Dick Van Dyke Show in 1971. She lasted two seasons. But the show kept going. She was dumped in a re-write of the premise of the show which left no room for Brill and, therefore, no room for Dussault. As columnists observed, there was no cast chemistry. One quoted Fanny Flagg as saying she got nothing to do on the show.

This is part of a story from the Berkshore Eagle of July 12, 1973.

The Lively World
by Milton R. Bass
DO YOU REMEMBER kooky Carol Davis of "The New Dick Van Dyke Show"? I ask you this because the Van Dyke ratings this past year were low enough to indicate that not too many people watched it on a regular basis. Well, the role of Carol Davis, described by the star of the show as “a woman so totally honest that she sometimes appeared dumb," was played by Nancy Dussault, who is currently thrilling audiences with her beautiful singing in "The Gershwin Years" at the Berkshire Theatre Festival.
Miss Dussault has been a singer since she enrolled at Northwestern University at the age of 16 and after receiving her bachelor's degree in music, she made her mark both on and off Broadway in "Sound of Music." "Bajour," "Carousel" and "Whispers in the Wind."
It was while she was acting in Pinero's "Trelawney of the Wells" that Carl Reiner caught her performance and decided that she must be part of the Van Dyke television show, which he was then putting together Miss Dussault first was tested for the role of Van Dyke's wife, which was eventually given to Hope Lange, but then they decided she would be perfect as "the nitwit," and she was stuck in the desert for two years.
Stuck is the exact word for the situation because in order to get Van Dyke out of retirement, CBS had to promise to film the show near his home in Cave Creek. Ariz. There was a studio available in nearby Carefree, Ariz., and most of the cast commuted from Phoenix, the closest place with real people.

Miss Dussault makes a face when you ask her what she did during nonworking hours. "I learned to shoot pool." she begins, and then she’s unable to come up with any other excitement. She and Fannie Flagg chummed aground together, and attended rodeos, saloon-hopped, took tennis lessons and swam in pools, but outside of the snakes and scorpions, there weren't too many interesting characters. Van Dyke is a terribly quiet, shy man who keeps to himself pretty much so there was no mad center of activity from which the cast and crew could spin off. The studio did furnish them with cars, but they were so low-powered that they had to "turn off the lights, the radio and the air conditioner" if they wanted to pass somebody. Consequently, there were no long trips of exploration. If you break down in the desert you don't want to have to walk on a road that is also a thoroughfare for rattlesnakes and scorpions.
The disorientation of the cast was reflected in the show itself, which never caught fire, and this season, CBS dropped the whole cast except for Van Dyke and Lang and moved production to Los Angeles. Word from out there indicates that this has not solved the problems of the series, and it is doubtful if it will continue much beyond its first cycle this fall.
Meanwhile, Miss Dussault made a pilot for CBS, “The Nancy Dussault Show," which was created by Carl Reiner from Miss Dussault's own experience of being married to a non show-biz person and the resulting problems. No sponsor has indicated hot interest, but CBS is keeping Miss Dussault under contract with thoughts of maybe reshooting a pilot for possible use as a midseason replacement.

The self-titled show was blown off at the same time as two other failed pilots in a movie-of-the-week time slot. It featured Lawrence Pressman, Karen Morrow, Rip Taylor and John Byner. One of the other shows was pilot for Ted Bessell.

Dussault’s next television experience was even worse. Dussault could sing, act and dance. She wasn’t an interviewer, but that’s what she was hired to do. Then she was un-hired.

Perhaps her best-known role followed. A Britcom was re-tooled into a vehicle for Ted Knight called Too Close For Comfort. He played a cartoonist who created Cosmic Cow (which showed up as a puppet; Knight had been a ventriloquist in his early TV days). It lasted three years on ABC then another three in first-run syndication. The final season was re-jigged but, unlike Van Dyke, Dussault survived the storyline overhaul.

Here’s a story from the Pittsburgh Press of March 7, 1982. To be honest, she doesn’t sound too enthusiastic about the sitcom.

Comfort’s Nice, But She’d Rather Sing
By Jerry Krupnick
NOBODY ever told Nancy Dussault why ABC refused to renew her contract as David Hartman's original co-host on "Good Morning America."
"I kept asking for an explanation, asking for help, but nobody would give me a hint," recalls Miss Dussault, who now is having greater success on the ABC situation comedy "Too Close for Comfort."
"I still don't know if I was one of David Hartman's victims or one of his friends, although I am almost sure I am the latter."
Hartman, host of "Good Morning America" since it began, has a martinet reputation. The corridors of ABC are said to be strewn with the bodies of on-and off-camera people who somehow crossed him, though Hartman comes across on the tube as the original Mr. Nice Guy.
Now that is all behind Nancy Dussault, who has become—without planning it that way—a heroine of American 40-plus womanhood.
In "Too Close for Comfort," which is completing its second season and rates very highly in the ABC lineup, she and Ted Knight play a middle-aged couple who live in the top half of a San Francisco duplex with their two nubile daughters in the apartment below.
As the wife and mother, Miss Dussault is an oasis of sanity in this desert of wiggles and worries. She's sensible, bright—and pregnant. At the age of 42, she's about to have a baby, much to the alternate delight and distress of her husband and daughters.
Miss Dussault's character is reasonable and cheerful in a situation that certainly was unplanned but could work out for the best.
"Nobody prepared me for the storyline," the actress says. "They just sprung it on me one day. 'How'd you like to be pregnant this season?' And that wasn't even a proposition.
"But it works and I like it. It's funny, but even when I remove those pillows and go out, people still believe I'm pregnant. They figure that's the real reason for the plot."
"Too Close for Comfort" has shot its last show of the season, with those pillows getting a lot of work. But it all ends as a cliff-hanger, we have to wait until next season for the birth.
This sets up Knight for many gags built around his fear of having another girl in the family, considering the suffering he goes through each week with the two on the first floor.
"I know the major criticism of the show has been its 'jiggly' aspects," Miss Dussault says. "And it has bothered me, along with bothering Ted. Hopefully, we have had some input in changing the direction a little bit. Our story is not simply, 'See how they jiggle.' Basically, we're concerned with parental reactions to what has become a much more permissive age.
"The only difficulty is that, as with all half-hour situation comedies, everything must be done by telegram. You never get a chance in that short time for a decent conversation. You're either setting up a gag or pushing the story along. So it's difficult to keep it completely real and honest. It's much easier to do the jiggling.
"Still, we try."

Though she's happy to be in a successful TV sitcom, Miss Dussault says her heart still belongs to Broadway musical theater.
That's where it all began for her, as the ingenue lead with Phil Silvers and Nancy Walker in "Do Re Mi." She was an instant hit, winning the coveted Theater World Award and being nominated for a Tony as best featured player in a musical.
"Suddenly," she recalls, "I was this year's hot ingenue. I made the rounds of all the parties. It was terrific. I was in demand."
She stepped into the Mary Martin role for the final year on Broadway of "The Sound of Music." She was cast opposite Chita Rivera in a flawed but still memorable musical called "Bajour." She was a regular on the TV panel show circuit, on Ed Sullivan, with Garry Moore.
So why is she in "Too Close for Comfort"?
"Hah," she says, "my agent told me that right now I had better work in a comedy series or not work at all. This is a business of, 'How quickly they forget.' Now, with the constant weekly exposure, I'm able to do other things. "And I think I had better get back into musicals before it's too late. I still sing a lot, but nobody has asked me for Broadway lately and there just don't seem to be too many parts I would be right for."
If one did come along, would she shift career gears again?
"Yeahhh," Nancy Dussault says dreamily, not leaving much doubt.

Dussault’s career didn’t end with the sitcom, though her profile may have been a little lower. She appeared on stage (her “I’m Getting My Act Together and Taking It on the Road” was parodied by SCTV as “I’m Taking My Own Head, Screwing It on Right, and No Man’s Gonna Tell Me That It Ain’t”), in a telethon for several years, recorded some CDs and, in her ‘70s, became a cabaret actress. She was also coaxed into joining David Hartman on camera for a 40th anniversary show of Good Morning, America. Methinks the behind-the-scenes antics of GMA might have made a more entertaining series than anything else on the tube featuring Dussault. With or without Cosmic Cow.

I Can't Stand Me

Dog/trees. “Well, I’ve been sick.” “I don’t care what you say, I’m (fill in blank).” Man-on-man greeting. All of them Tex Avery gag favourites, and all found in Wacky Wild Life (1940).

Another gag involves Cartoon Rule 514: animated skunks always smell. Tex and gagman Dave Monahan pull a variation on this one that I quite like. A skunk strolls onto the screen. Narrator Bob Bruce helpfully informs us: “Animals as well as humans have learned to avoid this little fellow—the skunk.”

The camera pans right for the punch-line.

Carl Stalling toodles around with a flute and woodwinds theme of his own for this scene. There’s familiar public domain music here and there, along with Stalling favourite “Cheyenne.” The short opens with J.S. Zamecnik’s “Indian Dawn.”

Virgil Ross gets the animation credit. Chuck McKimson, Rod Scribner and Sid Sutherland have footage in this one, too, along with some effects animation at the start (by Ace Gamer?). Avery finds a place to pan over a Johnny Johnsen background with an overlay. The cartoon was reissued in 1953.

The Background Balloons of Balloon Land

One of the most creative cartoons that came out of the Ub Iwerks studio was Balloon Land (1935) where the balloon characters gang up on the evil Pincushion Man, who threatens to annihilate them all with his pins.

It’s unfortunate the story men, animators and background artist are never identified. Besides Iwerks, the only credit goes to Carl Stalling for the musical score, as I suspect he composed some songs for this one (commercial recordings were also used for mood music).

The designs are great in this cartoon. We get a tree balloon with an owl face.



And an angry balloon tree.



Those two trees are animated. Then there are balloon trees in the background with faces on them. The last two are part of one background painting that appears in several scenes.



Here are some blooming balloon bushes in the background.



A glance through several trade papers show favourable reviews for Balloon Land, mainly based on its novelty. The Motion Picture Herald of the period gave a release date of September 30, 1935 and it appears the Hays Office gave it a seal of approval before October 26th. The Film Daily reviewed it on October 23rd but I have not found it in theatre ads before December.