No Chicken Tonight

George tells Junior to catch the hen he’s chasing, dunk her in a pot of water, pluck her feathers, then put her in a roasting pan in the oven.

You just know this isn’t going to happen.

Tex Avery has multiples of a running George and a running hen, frames, with a blur drawing in between, all on twos.



You can probably figure out what will happen. Junior grabs the wrong one.



The realisation take.



There’s a running gag of George telling Junior to bend over, then kicking him in the butt to form a different shape every time.



Henpecked Hoboes is not a cartoon that does much for me. I don’t find the “bend over” running gag all that funny and Dick Nelson’s nasally voice for George annoys me. But Box Office magazine deemed the short “very good.”

The animators in this short are Preston Blair, Ray Abrams, Ed Love and Walt Clinton, with Irv Spence handling the character design. His model sheets are dated January 10, 1945. Hoboes was the first MGM cartoon released in the 1946-47 season, on October 26, 1946.

What Golden Age?

Not everything in the wonderful days of network radio in the 1940s was all that wonderful. There were shows funny, creative and adept. There were others that were trite, boring and inept.

On-air people like Fred Allen, Bob and Ray, Stan Freberg and Henry Morgan poked fun at radio with some degree of causticness. Syndicated columnist John Crosby simply highlighted what he saw as banal, clichéd and tawdry. He went further than that in a series of articles on November 21, 22 and 25 where he let listeners do the talking. We’ll republish them below.

I find the first one interesting as the same, quite valid, complaint is made today.

Radio in Review.
By JOHN CROSBY
The Enraged Public
Over a period of time, a columnist gets a lot of squawks from readers, many of them directed at himself. However, a radio columnist, I find, is in a favorable position in this regard because the ire of his readers is usually directed at radio rather than at the man who writes about it. A great many of these complaints are general, but there are many, many specific gripes indicating the letter writer is not only a close listener but a critical one. It might be instructive to pass along some of these criticisms, if only to demonstrate that radio causes a lot of suffering besides your own.
The complaints range all the way up and down the scale of radio from mispronunciation to the selections made by Toscanini for the NBC symphony program. The degree of emotion also varies widely from mild irritation to thunderous rage. The most violent reaction, curiously enough, is usually excited by the smallest details.
*    *    *
Let’s start out with pronunciation. A man from Brooklyn, who describes himself as a linguist, says he is constantly shocked by mispronunciations made by professional news commentators, public figures and actors. In order to set these people's minds straight, he sent along a list of words which he has heard mangled repeatedly on the air. Here they are: "depravity" does not, he points out, have a long “a,” "cacaphony" is not accented on the second to last syllable, "inexplicable," "hospitable," formidable," "applicable," and “indefatigable” are not accented on the “i” syllable, “deprivation” does not have a long “i” and "tenet" does not have a long "e".
A New Haven man with the same complaint says he wishes Red Barber [above, right], director of sports at C. B. S., would learn that its [sic] La Guardia Field, not La Gardia Field, which he persists in saying. From Park Avenue comes a letter in which a listener swears he heard an announcer describe Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony as “po-ig-nant” music, inserting another syllable for good measure. A radio commentator who listens to other radio commentators expresses a strong aversion for the ones who stress the least important word in a phrase such as Columbia Broadcasting SYSTEM. Another irritated listener wishes Van Deventer, the Mutual Broadcasting System news commentator, would say Italy instead of Iddaly, battle instead of baddle, sentimental instead of senimenal, and avenue instead of avenoo.
Dozens of listeners complain about murder mysteries on the air on moral and intellectual grounds. One reader, however, had a special and, I believe, unique complaint. Why, he asked, did so many radio, murderers kill their wives? Why not some other victim, the mother-in-law possibly? This reader feels strongly on the subject because, he says, his own wife gets nervous during those programs and lately he finds her looking at him speculatively, possibly wondering just what thoughts are passing through his mind. He has a strong presentiment that she has already become resigned to the idea of being murdered and has fallen to speculating about when it will come off and what homicidal device he plans to use.
*    *    *
The complaints against advertising would fill a couple of large volumes, but the most illuminating came from the secretary to the director of a sanatorium. She writes that the peremptory note in commercials—("Stop in at your neighborhood druggist's TODAY and ask for Globule's Hair Tonic. Do it NOW!") have an almost hypnotic effect on the mentally deranged. Alter such a commercial, patients rush into her office with the names of products written on little slips of papers and insist that it be bought NOW, or, at the very latest, TODAY.
Complaints against announcers and masters of ceremony, particularly the latter, outnumber all others. The noisy or screaming announcer, you'll be pleased to know, irritates a great many people and has, to my knowledge, no defenders at all. A Los Angeles listener commented bitterly that he couldn't understand why everyone from movie stars to housewives, was introduced with falsetto screams from the announcer. A New Jersey listener narrows this complaint down to certain announcers and names names, specifically Jack Bailey and John Reid King [left].
A New York listener would like to know why emcees, announcers or entertainers always seem so surprised when the guest star actually shows up. "Why, if it isn't CLARK GABLE!" he shouts, as if he didn’t suspect the actor were even in town. Guest stars come in for a good deal of sour comment from readers. A great many of them ask whether something can't be done about all the mutual back-slapping that goes on between guest star and regular entertainer. One writer says he’s getting awfully tired of band leaders who introduce visiting singers as “America’s No. 1 chanteuse,” particularly when the lady in question courteously reciprocates by calling her host “America’s No. 1 band leader.”
And there are many, many irate listeners, I’ve found, who can’t understand why an audience participant gets a shattering volley of applause because he announces he’s from Brooklyn.
This is the first of a series of three articles on complaints from readers.

The Enraged Public
As Dr. Paul F. Lazerfeld pointed out in “The People Look At Radio,” radio commercials arouse not only frequent but easily the most violent complaints from the public. The letter writers bear this out. A reader complaining about, let us say, the quality of a program does so in measured sentences. But when writing about commercials, he resorts to the vivid and sometimes profane expletive.
"Positively revolting!” says one reader. "Horrible, horrible, horrible!” says another. Even when the reader holds his rage down to the point where he can finish a sentence, I find the denunciation is put in the most sweeping terms.
"Just thinking of those singing commercials would drive me to jibbering insanity," writes one man. "They are loud, nerve-wracking and have probably turned more people against radio than any other single thing."
“I’m so sick of B-O boomed at me from every angle that I’d cheerfully send every cake of Lifebuoy overseas in the hope that the advertising would be switched in that direction, too,” writes another.
“Won’t you do something about the AWFUL advertising in rhyme of the Alka Seltzer people,” pleads another woman. “Those AWFUL rhymes! That INANE dialogue!”
*    *    *
As you'll observe, the rage is so intense that mere words don't suffice, the writers take to exclamation points and capitals to express themselves. One man who writes a postcard virtually every week has four different sizes of capital letters which are barely enough to express his feelings. Several persons have written to say they will never buy another bottle of a headache remedy as long as they live because of its infuriating advertising. Some have even begun a crusade against products. The effect on sales is probably negligible but any advertiser who makes such virulent enemies among consumers is practicing poor public relations.
There are, of course, plenty of persons who write in specific complaints. One man, for instance, wonders what the copy writers would do if the word “yes” were banned from the air. Many others object to the use of the comparative ("more delicious," "more satisfying"). As "The New Yorker" magazine pointed out, the comparative is meaningless when not compared with anything. But it is not meaningless to the average listener who knows that a "more delicious" soup means a better soup than a competing product. He is less worried about the misuse of English than he is about the affront to his intelligence.
Repetitious catch phrases repeated over and over again drive many listeners crazy, and I use that word advisedly because "crazy," "insane" and other variations of lunacy bob up repeatedly from listeners writing about that form of advertising. "They go on and on and on and on," screamed one letter writer in handwriting of such intensity that it indicated her reason was beginning to totter.
Another pet peeve is any form of patent medicine advertising. "My insides are my own business," writes one angry woman, "and I'll thank the pill people to stop telling me how to put it in shape. I like it the way it is."
Listeners, at least the letter-writing listeners, view with intense distrust the linking of doctors and dentists with patent medicines, tooth powders or deodorants or any implication that a medicine is made like a doctor's prescription. Even if such a statement were true, they wouldn't believe it.
"It contains not one but several ingredients," as one reader pointed out, doesn't mean anything. It's very difficult, he said, to make a medicine containing only one ingredient.
*    *    *
The singing commercial leads all others in criticism. “The girl that goes for a man in an Adam Hat would go for anything,” writes one girl. She indicated that any man in an Adam Hat would get thrown out of her house. A special complaint against singing commercials is the practice of writing commercial lyrics to the melody of an old and beloved melody, which some listeners feel is a desecration.
All In all, the specific complaints against advertising are not so intriguing as the deep feeling which they rouse. It might interest a certain tobacco company to learn that one man wrote in that he had broken his ankle in a mad dash across the living room to turn off an announcer chanting “LS-MFT . . . LS-MFT.” . . .
This is the second in a series of three articles on complaints from listeners.

The Enraged Public
Radio programs and radio commercials are not the only things lambasted by my letter writers. They also take a dim view of studio audiences, particularly those at audience participation shows. "When I hear the silly loose-lipped laughter when some one on the stage gets a pie in the face, I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Do you think the home audience reacts that way? If they do, there isn't much hope for us," writes a man from New Jersey. A New Yorker writes: "In case the radio sponsors should ask us, which they don't, we listeners are pretty well fed up with the seemingly pent-up outbursts of acclaim from the studio audiences which greet the final words of a comedian as he steps back from the mike. He may close with no more side-splitting remark than "Well, that's all for now, folks,” when the air and our eardrums will be split by an explosion of artificial cheers accompanied by the most annoying of all sounds—finger whistles. If the sponsors think audible indorsement is needed, why not turn it into a revival meeting? Members of the audience could run to the microphone and tell in their own words how wonderful it is."
Another listener says she has learned to identify one woman who apparently goes to many radio shows and giggles continuously, particularly when nothing is very funny. This is a common complaint. One man writes that he and his wife wonder if they have lost their sense of humor. "We hear riotous and continuous laughter from the studio audiences and there we sit not able to crack a smile."
*    *    *
Another common gripe and one which could be easily corrected is against blaring music in dramatic sketches. Listeners point out that when their sets are tuned for voices they are too loud for the orchestra and when they are tuned in properly for orchestra, the voices are too low to be heard. Several persons have written to say they sit with their hand on the volume control knob and must retune their radios several times during one program.
Another and rather querulous complaint concerns the Hooper polls. "I often wonder who is approached by these polls," a Long Island woman writes. "My circle of friends is fairly large and I know no one who has been questioned." The same story comes from many listeners. I have yet to hear from any one who has been polled.
A frequent gripe lately has been the clash [in the East] between the Henry Morgan show [left] on A. B. C. at 10:30 p.m. Wednesdays and "Information, Please" on C. B. S. at the same hour. Both programs appeal to the same type of listeners and there are few programs on the air which do. Why, ask several irate fans of both programs, do they have to be broadcast at the same hour on the same night? (It was an accident. "Information, Please" had to take its time because it was the only time available on C. B. S.) There are also a good many complaints about the lateness of the hour for both programs.
*    *    *
Of late there have been increasing complaints against the reciprocal guest-star trick. "Isn't there something that can be done to break up the monopoly among the top-flight comedians?" asks a man from Wilkes-Barre, Pa. "Benny, Hope, Allen, McCarthy are bad enough by themselves, but week in week out, we find them trading guest-star appearances. I believe an action should be filed to break up this combination under the anti-trust laws."
A slightly different angle on guest stars comes from another listener who objected to the parade of governor on the Edgar Bergen program about a month ago. (The governors of California, Kansas and Missouri appeared in succession on the Bergen program.) It is bad enough," says this listener, "when the governors make fools of themselves in their official capacity but when they compete with professional comedians, it is disgusting."
There are lots more, but that's enough for now. Somewhere in the last three days you must have run across some of your own pet gripes and I hope it helped to discover that you have company.
This is the last of a series of articles on complaints from listeners.

Crosby’s other columns for the week include an attempt at being Fred Allen with a parody of Bride and Groom (November 18), an odd speculation about now-transcribed-on-ABC Bing Crosby (November 19) and one on a gorilla’s skull appearing on a daytime ladies-participation show (November 20) and looking ahead to television. You can click on each to make them larger.

Switchboard, Switch Clothes

The Fleischers’ I Heard (1933) has some great music, characters trucking and bouncing, and not a lot of story. No matter. It’s still an enjoyable seven minutes.

The cartoon is set in a coal mine. Bimbo is a switchboard operator. A cat turns into a telephone.



A rhino has a candle for a horn. Or maybe it's a hippo with a candle on its snout. Anyway, it answers a phone call.



Betty gets a call as she’s single the title song. She heads to the mine shaft via a dumb waiter. It is appropriately named.



The rope holding the dumb waiter breaks. Nothing to worry about. It forms a hand and connects with itself.



The dumb waiter crashes down on Bimbo’s switchboard. They aren’t enforcing the Production Code yet, so we find Bimbo wearing Betty’s dress. He quickly tosses it over her.



Don Redman’s orchestra cooks along nicely in this short, animated by Willard Bowsky and Myron Waldman.

Mutiny on the Bunny Backgrounds

Paul Julian was a master of highlights and shadows in his background paintings for the Friz Freleng unit at Warner Bros.

Here is some of his work in Mutiny on the Bunny (released in 1950). First is a long background that was panned in the opening.



A few more. Some of Hawley Pratt's layouts have the audience look up at the action.



The short was copyrighted in 1948, so you can see how long it took for some cartoons to be released.

The Mayor Goes to Anaheim

Jack Benny and his writers knew when a running gag would work, and they generally stuck with it until it could get too stale.

Jack’s radio show got laughs with a train announcer calling passengers for Anaheim, Azusa and Cucamonga, so they kept doing it. Other radio shows picked it up. Jack Benny put Anaheim on the map long before Walt Disney or the American League.

Eventually, he has made an honorary mayor of all three cities. It was only appropriate, therefore, he should make a visit to one of his little burghs.

Anaheim had a weekly, six-page newspaper in 1947. The Gazette covered the Benny visit, unfortunately minus a cameraman. It really does strike me as small town, especially considering the acts that were lined up to appear with Jack. They even supplied a local townswoman on the piano to accompany him. This was published April 24, 1947.

Jack Benny Smiles Jokes Way Into Heart of Anaheim
Arriving in a blaze of ignition sparks and leaving in a burst of hilarity, as honorary mayor of Anaheim, Jack Benny of radio, Anaheim, Azusa and Cucamonga fame, made a memorable appearance as special guest speaker at the annual “kick-off” banquet for Civic Progress Week before 340 members of the Chamber of Commerce and friends Monday night. “His arrival was impressive but his speech was better” was the concensus of opinion.
An estimated throng of 1500 cheered the celebrity on as he was appropriately transported in a tour of the town in a 1906 vintage Maxwell roadster piloted by Superior Court Judge Raymond L. Thompson. His police escort roared to a stop before the crowded entrance to the Elks club while the Maxwell, raced and beaten by kids on bicycles, chugged amidst an explosion of flash bulbs.
Completely at ease, wearing big smile and a cigar, Benny stepped before the mike following the banquet. He regaled the packed audience with a full half hour of humorous reminiscences from an inexhaustable supply, wise-cracks, “lay-’em-in-the-aisle” ad-libs and stories of his cast, his life as an entertainer and Hollywood friends and “enemies.” He made special reference to his wife, Mary Livingstone’s sense of humor, and the peculiarities of Band Leader Phil Harris and Comedian Fred Allen. Usually trustworthy sources predict he will send recordings of his speech to Harris and Allen.
Following Benny’s side-splitting presentation, Emcee Whitey Roberts introduced three acts of top-notch vaudeville. Juggler-Clarinetist John Gailus balanced a rubber ball on his instrument while playing and operated a ‘puppet' chorus line simultaneously. Eddie and Lucille Burnett exhibited precision and perfect timing in a terrific tumbling act. The Four Guardsmen sang unique arrangements of old time songs, appearing for two encores.
With doleful mien, Roberts proved a quick-trigger wit and jack of many entertainment trades. He lured Robert Boney on the stage for a duo juggling act with green dishes which afterwards required a broom.
Clyde Nickles, versatile master of ceremonies, welcomed the en-enthusiastic banqueteers who packed the hall and introduced Robert Rossberg, president of the Anaheim Chamber of Commerce, who read the annual joint report to the city council, planning commission and service clubs.
Concluding in a lighter vein Telephone Company Manager Rossberg remarked “I’ve been at the switchboard down at the phone company so long my voice is changing”; to which Benny replied “If you’re going to be that funny, I’m getting out!”
Nickles then introduced Ernest Moeller, secretary-manager of the Anaheim Chamber of Commerce, who in turn, presented Benny.

Armed with a violin, the comedian climaxed his act by a traditional rendition of ‘‘Love in Bloom” indispersed with comments, “Well, if you really insist” . . . “Hey, wait for me” to his accompanist, Mrs. William Cook, then “Oh well, it’s the only one she knows’’ and “You thought I was going to be lousey [sic], didn’t you?”
A brilliant musical performance featured William Cook and the high school ensemble, interpreting well contrasted selections during the dinner hour. They also presented the fanfare for Benny’s entrance, “Love in Bloom,” ending on a “true blue” note.
Upon being presented the inscribed gavel as honorary mayor of Anaheim by Mayor Charles A. Pearson, Benny promised to try out the gavel by driving through town at 80 miles per hour.
Members of the Benny party introduced included his production director, Robert Ballin, and Mrs. Ballin, Hillyard Marks, his assistant production manager and Mrs. Marks, and Ned Moss, representing Steve Hannagan and associates, the Benny publicity agency.
Miss Phyllis Officer, newly selected Miss Anaheim, winner of the afternoon fashion show and beauty contest, was introduced. With several junior hostesses she posed with Benny following the affair.
Preceding the festivities, Rev. H.G. Schmelzer said grace, and Song Leader Joe Scholz directed “God Bless America.” He also led participants In the welcome song to Benny and the “Anaheimer Song.”
Flower festooned fish-net decked the walls of the great banquet room highlighted by palm trees (artificial) and Hawaiian hula beauties, also artificial. The stage was accented by forest scene viewed through flowers and butterfly scattered fish net. Spring flowers arranged by leading Anaheim florists graced the long banquet tables.
Concluding the “kick-off” banquet program, General Chairman Dick Gay thanked Jack Benny, the board of directors of the Chamber of Commerce and Chairman J. Ben Kaulbars; Everett Cone, show and entertainment chairman; the city council, the planning committee, the Young Ladies Institute for decorations, Whitey Roberts and the talented guest artists.
Arriving here on schedule at 6:30 o’clock, Benny was welcomed by Mayor Pearson and city officials at Center and Palm streets and escorted to Palm and Cypress streets where he climbed aboard the antiquated vehicle complete with the inscription “Jack Benny’s Maxwell” and an auxiliary lantern. His premier stop was at St. Catherines where' a swarm of youngsters sought his autograph. Collecting a bevy of bicycles, the gala caravan traveled to Palm and Center street to be greeted by a larger cheering crowd. Benny again developed writer’s cramp and cracked jokes. Alighting from the venerable limousine, he waved a friendly hand at the engulfing crowds before the Elks club.

Of course, the Anaheim, etc. gag petered out, but Jack still used it whenever he did a train station episode. The last time it was heard on radio was on his final broadcast on May 22, 1955. That wasn’t the end of it. The three cities jointly signed a Resolution of Appreciation to Jack upon his death in December 1974. And the gag became a piece of nostalgia, as Mel Blanc resurrected it when he did TV talk shows into the 1980s.

Silent Stars Meet a Silent Star

Cartoons in the Golden Age were stuffed full of celebrity caricatures. Disney did them. Warners did them. Columbia did them. The Marx Bros. Kate Hepburn. W.C. Fields. Lantz’s Oswald even met FDR.

The idea went back to the silent days. Felix the Cat went to Hollywood in 1923 and ran into Charlie Chaplin. But an even earlier cartoon was released by Fox in 1918 featuring a huge movie star. Theda Bara may have been Hollywood's first bad girl, using sex to woo men to horrible fates. As Hollywood tends to do, it built up a huge, bogus background for her. As it turned out, she was plain old Theodosia Goodman of Cincinnati. Whether audiences eventually found her attempts at sultriness too comical or they just tired of her, Theda flamed out before the silent era ended and other screen sirens took her place.

Mutt and Jeff were hugely popular on the newspaper comics page, created by Bud Fisher in 1907 and still lamely taking up print space into the 1980s. Fisher worked out a deal with Charley Bowers in 1916 to bring the characters to the big screen. Not long after, with Fisher overseas on war duty, Bowers signed a states-rights distribution with Fox. One of Fox’s stars was Theda Bara. It seems only natural the two would get together.

Motion Picture World printed this story on July 6, 1918.

Two Screens Involved in This Mutt-Jeff-Bara Comedy
A REAL life personage and cartoon characters meet and act together on the screen in the Mutt and Jeff animated cartoon, "Meeting Theda Bara," which is announced from the William Fox offices as one of the latest of Bud Fisher's creations.

The picture is described as one of the funniest this comedy pair have yet appeared in. Jeff inherits a fortune and Mutt decides that they are going to become motion picture producers. Their aim is to secure the services of a vampire. This ambition is inspired after Mutt and Jeff see Miss Bara in a picture. Jeff's admiration for Miss Bara leads him to serve notice on Mutt that any "vamping" for the Mutt and Jeff Motion Picture outfit must be done by Theda Bara. Mutt laughs and informs his diminutive friend that a contract holds Miss Bara to produce solely for the Fox Film Corporation. The pair then go about obtaining a vampire in a scientific way.
It doesn't take Mutt long to convince Jeff that it's the eyes that make the vampire. He learns, however, to his chagrin, that he was only partly right. Jeff makes up his mind that he will drop around and see Miss Bara, so he picks out the stage door of a moving picture theater as the logical place to find the famous star. Mutt sees him there and thinks it is a great joke. Later sitting in a gilded restaurant, Mutt is still laughing at the idea of Jeff waiting at the stage door of a moving picture theater. However, there are two sides of the story, and Mutt didn't know that Jeff's side of the story was hidden by a screen that surrounded the table next to Mutt. Mutt's curiosity prompts him to peer over the top of the screen. What he saw on the other side caused him a surprise that you will have to see the picture to appreciate.
Other most recent Mutt and Jeff productions are "The Extra Quick Lunch," "Life Savers" and "The 75-Mile Gun." In "The Extra Quick Lunch," the pair open a restaurant in which speed and economy are the watchwords. Life Savers" show them at the beach, and in "The 75-Mile Gun" they capture the German super-gun and train it on the Kaiser and Von Hindenburg, with results disastrous to the leaders of Prussian kultur.

Here’s how the trade paper’s Hanford C. Judson reviewed the short in the same issue:

PROBABLY as amusing as any of this famous cartoon series is "Meeting Theda Bara," in which Jeff, after getting an inheritance, goes into the motion picture business with Mutt and they look about for a good vampire. Of course, Theda is the ideal, and while they want her, Mutt knows that she is under con- tract and is not to be thought of. Jeff perseveres and Mutt gets a knockout when he finds Jeff and Theda very friendly and taking dinner together in a restaurant.

A newspaper syndicate released the following review (the Sunday Gazette of Atlantic City published it on June 30th):

FOR what is thought to be the first time in the history of motion pictures, a real life personage and cartoon characters meet and act together on the screen, in the Mutt and Jeff animated cartoon, Meeting Theda Bara, one of latest Bud Fisher creations. Jeff inherits a fortune and Mutt decides that they are going to become motion picture producers. Their aim is to obtain the services of a vampire. This ambition is inspired after Mutt aud Jeff have seen Theda Bara in a picture. Jeff's admiration for Miss Bara leads him to serve notice on Mutt that any "vamping" to be done in their pictures must be done by Miss Bara. The pair go about obtaining the services of Miss Bara in a scientific manner, and the adventures that befall them are said to make the picture the funniest this comedy pair have yet appeared in.

While Theda didn’t make it into the sound era, Mutt and Jeff did—in a way. In the 1930s, a number of the twosome’s shorts were colourised and had musical scores added to them. Then in 1973, it was done again by Fred Ladd, known for sending Warner Bros. and Fleischer cartoons to South Korea to be redrawn and splashed with colour for television, which was slowly getting out of the black-and-white business, with new musical backgrounds from various sources added.

If you're interested, here's a list of some of the other Mutt and Jeffs released around the same time. There was one a week.

MUTT AND JEFF ANIMATED CARTOONS.
Apr. 28— Helping McAdoo (Half-Reel).
May 6 — A Fisherless Cartoon (Half-Reel).
May 12 — Occultism (Half-Reel).
May 19 — Superintendents (Half-Reel).
May 26 — Tonsorial Artists (Half Reel).
June 2 — The Tale of a Pig.
June 9 — Hospital Orderlies.
June 16 — Life-Savers.
June 23 — Meeting Theda Bara.
June 30 — The Seventy-Five-Mile Gun.
July 7 — The Burglar Alarm.
July 14 — The Extra Quick Lunch.
July 21 — Hunting the U-Boats.
July 28 — Hotel de Mutt.
Aug. 4 — Joining the Tanks.
Aug. 11 — An Ace and a Joker.

To the best of my knowledge, no reels of Meeting Theda Bara exist.

The Mutt and Jeff story gets a little murky in the 1920s. Bowers made some more cartoons in 1925-26, distributed by Short Films Syndicate. But so did some of his cartoonists, such as Manny Gould and Burt Gillett, who formed their own studio. Check out some of the unrestored shorts courtesy of Cartoons on Film.

Plugging Paint

Friz Freleng made cartoons in time to symphonic music. So did Dick Lundy the same at the Walter Lantz studio. Naturally, this meant the studio that stole ideas from everywhere also gave it a try.

Thus it was that Connie Rasinski directed Paint Pot Symphony at Terrytoons.

This should have been a high point for the studio’s musical director, Phil Scheib. After all, Scheib was not only classically trained, he was a violinist. Unfortunately, the Zampa Overture (also used at Lantz) and some Strauss waltzes get mired down in typical Terrytoons arrangement with saxophones tooting away (Scheib told Gene Deitch this was something Paul Terry demanded). It doesn’t sound symphonic and there are no orchestral nuances like you’d find in a Carl Stalling/Milt Franklyn score or one by Darrell Calker at Lantz. I’ll bet Scheib would have loved to have worked with a full orchestra on this one.

Rasinski tries his best directing the Terry Trio, or whatever the three starring characters were called. He and whoever handled layouts go for angles and some perspective animation.

Writer John Foster tosses in his version of the plug-the-ears-to-stop-something gag. In Tex Avery’s Lucky Ducky, it was water. In this cartoon, it’s paint.



The cat's ears plug his ears.



With nowhere to go, the paint backs up into the can.



The cartoon was released in 1949, but I've seen ads for it playing in theatres in 1952. It was re-issued in 1956.

Silhouettes in a Storm

Silhoutte shots find their way into several scenes of Ub Iwerks' The Cuckoo Murder Case, released in 1930.

One involves Flip running toward a house, being scared by the face formed by the windows, and running away, only to be blown into the house by the winds.



Being a mystery, and the being the early 1930s, the cartoon includes a piano and a skeleton.

No animators are credited. Carl Stalling gets a screen mention for the score, which includes "The Year of Jubilo."

Give a Whit

How’s this for a cast—Cesar Romero, Sid Melton, Acquanetta, Whit Bissell and Hugh Beaumont?

They don’t make movies like them any more, do they?

But they did. This is part of the cast of the 1951 classic Lost Continent.

Whit Bissell seems to have been in every science fiction film ever made. Of course you know he appeared on the science fiction TV show The Time Tunnel. I’ve lost track of the other places I spotted him over the years. Someone, somewhere, I thought, must have interviewed him.

Well, the correct answer is “yes.” As a treat for all you Whit Bissell fans out there, I’m going to post a couple. This is from the Durham Morning Herald of Jan. 27, 1952.

In New York
‘Vastly Greater Opportunities'
By DON BISHOP
NEW YORK — Whit Bissell, a successful actor in theater, films and television who had his dramatic start with the University of North Carolina Playmakers, has ample reason for saying that New York offers vastly greater opportunities for his profession than Hollywood.
He was speaking of this city's control of television and its proximity to the training ground of the Summer theaters— and of what these two factors meant to beginning actors.
But he might also have been referring to New York as the mecca of seasoned character actors such as himself.
Bissell forsook Hollywood — for the moment at least — and came to New York in November 1951. Since then he has been in six video productions — or as many as was physically possible, rehearsal schedules being what they are. Bissell's first New York television assignment was in the soap opera "The Egg and I” in a role which is quiescent for the moment but which will be written into the script again.
Works Christmas
He was next in "Crime Syndicated," then in “Television Playhouse." He rehearsed all Christmas afternoon for "The Web," which went on the air the night after Christmas. Then followed a lead in "Out There," a science fiction drama, and another in “Studio One,” in which he was directed by former Carolina Playmaker Paul Nickell.
Recently Bissell has been in Florida shooting outdoor scenes for a drama on "The Big Story." The action Is supposed to take place In Niagara Falls, N. Y., but the producers of the program, in search of sunshine and a pack of bloodhounds to be used in the search for a killer, chose Tampa. The program will be presented Feb. 22.
Bissell came to television with a solid background in the movies, and, before that, considerable experience on the stage. He went to Hollywood shortly before his wartime service, was in "Destination Tokyo," and returned there after the war for good roles in such movies as "He Walked by Night,” "Brute Force," "Anna Lucasta,” "The Great Missouri Raid," and others.
Pictures Coming
Upcoming for release are M-G-M's "The Sellout," which stars Walter Pidgeon and John Hodiak, and Paramount's "Red Mountain,” which has Alan Ladd in it.
While still in private school in Connecticut, Bissell decided he wanted to be an actor. It was a sort of law of nature at his school that its students enrolled at Yale, Harvard or Princeton, and Bissell seemed headed toward Yale.
But the late Prof. George Pierce Baker, the eminent professor of dramatic art. told him that he should wait until his graduate study days before turning to his chosen field.
Bissell's impatience with such waiting dovetailed nicely with a report which his father, the late Dr. Dougal Bissell, brought him.
Dr. Bissell, a native of Charleston, S. C., and one of its most prominent citizens, who had migrated to New York eventually to become surgeon emeritus of the Woman’s Hospital, happened to stop off in Chapel Hill during a visit in the South.
No Waiting
Friends introduced him to Prof. Frederick H. Koch, who was doing great things with the famous Carolina Playmakers. The father reported to the son that Chapel Hill was a good place to go—and there'd be no waiting four years before he'd have opportunity to paint a piece of scenery or act a few lines.
Bissell enrolled at the University—and has the highest of praise for the grounding that it gave him in the theater. He was graduated in 1932 and was accepted for special training In Eva LeGallienne's Civic Repertory Theater. His first Broadway performance was in the "Hamlet" production which had John Gielgud as its star. Others included "Room Service" on tour, "As You Like It," "The American Way " and "Two on an Island.”
He met Adrienne Marden, who had a lead in “The Woman.” They were soon wed and started out their married life as the juvenile and ingenue leads in "The American Way." They now have two children, Kathy, seven years old, and Victoria, three.
Bissell hasn't decided whether he will make New York his home. He wants to see if television is going to take the trek to Hollywood that radio did.

Television moved to Hollywood and so did Bissell. This gave him a chance to appear in I Was a Teenage Werewolf, I Was a Teenage Frankenstein (with Phyllis Coates) and The Amazing Colossal Man (all 1957). His TV career was diverse, with guest shots on Peter Gunn, The Outer Limits and Petticoat Junction.

He also ran afoul of right-wing zealots. Bissell was one of dozens and dozens of actors who signed an ad in the Hollywood Reporter in 1947 denouncing the treatment of actor Larry Parks by a Committee in Washington, D.C. investigating Communists. (Among the other names were Jim Backus, Henry Morgan, Alan Reed and Howard Duff).

Bissell retired to the Motion Picture and Television Fund’s Country House and Hospital. Michael Arkush of the Los Angeles Times wrote a feature story on some of the people living there, including Bissell. This was published on Aug. 16, 1991 and was syndicated.

At 81, the face isn't familiar anymore. He plays all his scenes in slow motion these days. Without cameras.
Whit Bissell may be in retirement, but his five decades as an actor live on in celluloid. And in memories.
"I always wanted to be a character actor," said Bissell, who fulfilled his lifetime ambition in films such as "The Desperate Hours" (1955), "Gunfight at the OK Corral" (1957), "Creature From the Black Lagoon" (1954) and "The Manchurian Candidate" (1962). Many younger fans remember him best for his two-year stint as the general in the science-fiction television series "The Time Tunnel" (1966-67).
Going back in time still comes naturally to him. The scene is 1946. The war is over, but Bissell has a new battle—unemployment. Low on money and confidence, he is bailed out by his friend, veteran actor Fredric March, who won an Academy Award for "The Best Years of Our Lives."
It made Bissell's year too.
"He asked me if I could use any money," Bissell recalled. "And then he went into his den and handed me a $1,000 check. I damn near fainted. It was such a great gesture that I knew I could make it."
And he did. Bissell didn't conquer Hollywood; he survived it, which may be even more impressive. That includes blacklisting.
"For six months, I couldn't get a job," said Bissell, who was identified as a communist. "I was in a blind alley, and I didn't know what they were saying."
In 1954, Bissell bounced back in "The Caine Mutiny," working with Humphrey Bogart. He didn't retire until 1989. He developed tight friendships with some of Hollywood's elite, including John Gielgud and Bette Davis.
Bissell is still hard on himself.
"I'm not complaining, but I didn't stretch myself as an actor," said Bissell, who often played the mild-mannered authority figure. "I got stereotyped." (Ironically, though, perhaps his best-known movie role remains the mad psychiatrist who turns young Michael Landon into a beast in the 1957 cult favorite, "I Was a Teenage Werewolf.")
These days, Bissell is comfortable at the Woodland Hills facility. His health has dramatically improved since he became a resident two years ago. But something is missing.
"I'd like to have another good part," he said. "If anyone offered me a part tomorrow, I'd jump at it."

Bissell rested in retirement a few more years. He died in 1996. No doubt his cult films will live on, because they don’t make movies like them any more.