Legend is Tex Avery wanted to have a group of ducks harassing Porky Pig in Porky’s Duck Hunt, but animator Bob Clampett convinced him it would be funnier to have only one screwball duck.
There is one scene that includes a number of heckling ducks. Row-boating Porky reaches to his sandwich to eat it and the ducks quack at him. He turns to fire his rifle at them and they fly away.
Porky goes back to the sandwich. In reused animation, the ducks return. Porky gets fouled up and instead of shooting at the ducks, he turns around his rifle.
As Porky stares wondering what just happened, we get a celebrity cameo appearance.
Danny Webb provides the voice of Joe “Wanna Buy a Duck?” Penner. (Late note: Keith Scott believes the voice belongs to Jackie Morrow. I'll defer to his knowledge about this).
Bobe Cannon and Virgil Ross are the credited animators.
There are thousands upon thousands of animated films made in the 1950s that have not had a real serious examination or compilation by historians.
That’s because most of them never appeared in theatres.
There were film studios across the U.S. and parts of Canada which made cartoons for corporations and institutions. Commercials, too. Generally, you couldn’t really consider them animation studios because they produced live action films as well.
We’ve spotlighted some of the world of John Sutherland Productions, which worked out a deal with M-G-M to release some of its pro-capitalism/anti-big government cartoons, including A is For Atom. Other fans gravitate to the works of the Jam Handy studio in Detroit, which employed animation talents such as Max Fleischer, Gene Deitch and Jim Tyer, and produced the Nicky Nome series.
One of the many studios rarely touched on is Jerry Fairbanks Productions in Los Angeles. Some will recognise his name from the deal with Jay Ward that put Crusader Rabbit on the air. He produced several filmed series in the dawning days of television syndication. But he mainly was an industrial filmmaker, and put together a cartoon division after the war. In September 1947, he hired Manny Gould from the Warner Bros. studio to supervise all his animation production.
We’re going to focus on one of Fairbanks’ cartoon shorts, a public service message sponsored by Metropolitan Life in 1951 called Cheers For Chubby.
Met Life treated this as a big deal and took out full-page magazine ads promoting it, offering a free copy of a booklet on weight. The secretary of the American Medical Association wrote in the June 1951 edition of California Medicine:
Metropolitan Life Has New Movie on Overweight. I have just seen the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company’s new movie entitled “Cheers for Chubby,” and it is exceptionally well done. It will be presented in commercial theaters throughout the country.
The movie is based on information obtained in interviews with the A.M.A., the Public Health Service, and the Milbank Memorial Fund, as well as various nutrition agencies, hospitals, clinics, medical schools and health departments.
This 8-minute theatrical animated short in color was made because of the growing feeling that overweight is a major health problem and that control of it, particularly after middle age, should result in a substantial increase in health and longevity.
Dr. D. B. Armstrong, a Metropolitan vice-president, said the film would be made available within a short time to state and county medical societies for showing in their areas.
The Library of Congress catalogue describes it this way:
Summary: An animated cartoon. Discusses the dangers and discomforts of excess weight, points out the importance of seeking and following the doctor's advice in reducing, explains some of the fundamentals about reducing diets, and describes the importance of determination and patience in achieving weight control.
The Motion Picture Herald of May 12, 1951 pointed out it was made using a new Du Pont colour process.
This was one of several “don’t pork out at the dinner table” industrials made at that time. Coronet came out with Good Eating Habits (1951) with Jam Handy producing Weight Reduction Through Diet (also 1951) for the National Dairy Council.
As for Cheers For Chubby, the animators aren’t listed, but Gould and Art Scott get direction credits and Lou Lilly is the animation supervisor. Scott was a former Disneyite who made the Mel-O-Toons in the late ‘50s, worked on Beany and Cecil for Bob Clampett then settled in at Hanna-Barbera. Lilly was an ex-Columbia animator who found work at Warner Bros. and opened his own studio in the 1950s.
Bing Crosby’s announcer, Ken Carpenter, narrates this short; he performed the same duties on other Fairbanks shorts as well as Paramount’s “Speaking of Animals” series. Ed Paul was Fairbanks’ in-house composer, though the studio switched to the Capitol Hi-Q library in the ‘60s, probably to save money.
An 11-minute version of this short was produced for television with a live-action prologue and epilogue, and entitled Losing To Win
This dub is a little fuzzy. Perhaps a better version will surface on-line.
“Check your local listings” sometimes didn’t work in the Golden Age of Radio.
Jack Benny toiled for NBC for most of his radio career. Sitting in an office at 30 Rockefeller Plaza was a gentleman named J. Vance Babb. In 1938, he was the manager of the Press Division of the NBC Publicity Department. His staff communicated with the press to make sure the local listings were correct.
All the networks issued press releases about their programmes, hoping they’d be picked up by local papers to give free publicity. One newspaper that was extremely cooperative was the Greenville News in South Carolina. It owned WFBC radio, which happened to be the local NBC affiliate. And judging by the paper’s radio page of the time, it apparently filled space with oodles of NBC news releases (and posed photos) promoting shows to air that day.
One of the more interesting ones appeared in the October 16, 1938 edition promoting the evening’s Jack Benny Program. That’s because the show advertised was not the show that made it onto the air.
I presume the NBC PR department had a deadline to write their releases. Jack and his writers began meetings on Tuesday to come up with a rough draught of a show, and then polished it. On several occasions, this blog has mentioned shows that were tossed out and re-written the night before the broadcast. When that happened, NBC’s carefully crafted news release would be out of date.
This is what the paper published on the 16th:
JACK BENNY CAST CALLS ON DEVINE IN SHOW TONIGHT Don Wilson, Andy To Be In Weighing-In Contest As Added Feature KENNY PICKS HIT
Jack Benny and his gang will smoke out Mayor Andy Devine from his office in Van Nuys, Cal., during the broadcast with Mary Livingstone, Kenny Baker, Phil Harris and Don Wilson over the NBC-WFBC network today at 7 p. m. Gravel-voiced Andy will be making his microphone debut of the season, postponed from last week when a movie retake kept him out of the show.
The diligent mayor will desert his offices behind the old cowshed on his Van Nuys rancho with malice aforethought this time. Andy is trying to dispose of his home-grown crop of "Havana filler" tobacco at Jack's expense. If Jack buys the crop of manufactured stogies, it probably will be at some one else's expense.
As an added feature of the broadcast, Jack will stage a weighing-in contest between his heavyweight aides, Don Wilson and Andy Devine, both former star footballers. Don, who steadfastly maintains that he lost three chins and a hangnail during the summer, is giving odds that he tips the beams at a lower figure than his gravel-voiced competitor for the local beef-trust title. With the aid of diet, strenuous exercise and nerve-wracking lack of sleep, Don has shrivelled to a mere 220 pounds. Andy, on the other hand, has been trying to fill out to the proportions of his political job.
Timid tenor Kenny Baker will battle through the smoke screen to sing the popular favorite "I Used To Be Color Blind" and Phil Harris' orchestra will play "For No Reason In Rhyme." The band also will unfold a new arrangement of "Don't Cross Your Fingers."
About the only thing accurate is Andy Devine did appear, and Harris played the two numbers mentioned, although Don Wilson introduced one as “For No Rhyme or Reason.” Kenny’s song was “I’ve Got a Date With a Dream.”
The plot outlined in the NBC release never happened. At all. It wasn’t postponed to a later broadcast.
There are other occasions where the Benny summaries aren’t quite the same as what went on the air, though the broadcasts on the Sundays before and after this show reflect what was promoted. Why such a drastic change was made is open to speculation.
What actually went on the air was a programme bidding farewell to the NBC studio at Melrose and Gower. The following day, the network was to open its “Hollywood Radio City” on a 4 ½ acre site at the northeast corner of Sunset and Vine. The Los Angeles Times reported a three-storey lobby linked the office building with four auditorium studios linked together with glass brick walls. A mural 25 feet high and 40 feet wide portraying radio covered the entire curved half of the northeast wall. Naturally, this lovely building was torn down starting in May 1964.
It’s possible because the building was a huge deal to NBC, Benny and his writers decided instead of a show involving Don Wilson’s weight, they’d build a programme promoting the new network West Coast headquarters.
It’s actually a pretty funny show, though it’s a little odd at the end where one of the NBC demolition workers, who have been called Laverne and Mervin, suddenly turns out to be network vice-president John Swallow.
Listen to the show here. Elliott Lewis is Laverne, Ed Beloin is Mervin.
One of the great voices of animated cartoons started his career on film in the silent era.
He’s Billy Bletcher.
Bletcher was one of the first professional actors to be hired to perform dialogue in cartoons in the 1930s as they evolved from using studio staff to speak whatever words were heard underneath synchronised music and effects. But not too many years earlier, he was one of the famous Keystone Kops. In later life, he was one of the last of them and toured around the U.S., meeting silent film fans.
Animation fans reading here will likely know he was the Big Bad Wolf in Disney’s The Three Little Pigs (1933). He soon seems to have started popping up at other cartoon studios, especially Warner Bros. He voiced evil villains (lawyer Goodwill in The Case of the Stuttering Pig, 1937), comic villains (Colonel Shuffle in Mississippi Hare, 1949), not-quite villains (Owl Jolson’s father in I Love to Singa (1936) as well as the frustrated Papa in Chuck Jones’ Three Bears cartoons.
Keith Scott’s wonderful two-volume set on cartoon voice actors reveals Bletcher was interviewed about his cartoon career, and recalled Tex Avery was “a great booster for me. He’d say, ‘What are you fooling around for? Get Bletcher.’” But the book also quotes Avery as admitting he stopped using that type of voice in his cartoons. It also quotes Bletcher about losing roles to Mel Blanc because Blanc was under contract at Leon Schlesinger’s studio and using him saved money. Bletcher worked at other studios, including a memorable role as the Pincushion Man in Ub Iwerks’ Balloon Land (1935) and even showed up in the John Sutherland short Make Mine Freedom (1948). There were many, many more.
But let’s talk about his silent career. His hometown papers wrote of him a number of times. This story was unbylined in the Lancaster (Pa.) New Era of August 5, 1916. It tells of long-forgotten films and non-remembered actors.
A LANCASTER BOY WHO SCORES IN THE MOVIES Billy Bletcher, By Hard, Persistent Work, Has Won a Name For Himself—In Big Demand Also As Vaudeville Artist and Singer
One of the “livest” of the fraternity of players in the motion picture world and the son of the Red Rose city who has best made his mark in that greatest of public theaters to-day is "Billy” Bletcher. Through an unshaken belief in himself despite any discouragement encountered and a determination to “make good" in the attainment of his ideals, Billy has faithfully "followed his star," and today occupies an enviable position in the “movies” where he has appeared with some of the best, has made a good impression among fellow-actors and, what is more important, has through his gameness, independence and undeniable talent won the respect and admiration of the managers of the various big companies upon whose films he has appeared in the past, and is appearing more prominently than ever to-day. His role is mostly that of the fun-maker and at this he is an adept. Audiences from coast to coast of the continent have been convulsed with merriment through the presentation of his acting. Has Won Place In Front Rank.
By hard work, with few advantages in the way of preparation, and with no pull or drag as some people call it, Billy Bletcher has won a place in the front rank of entertainers. A fair field and no favors has been his motto. His every effort has been an artistic success and his future is assured.
Alone and unaided, his career began before he was seventeen, and he has been less than five years before the public. With ability and versatility, he has that irrepressible energy commonly called nerve.
In Demand as a Juvenile.
At the tender age of nine he began to show great aptitude as a mimic and was in demand for juvenile entertainment. One of his favorite stunts was to ring the bell at a down-town Lancaster auction sale. His pay for this service was collected nightly and spent the same night to get into one of the theaters. He became so busy ringing that bell that he did not get to choir rehearsals and finally the musical director said: “Billy, you're fired.” Was Cabaret Singer.
But he was undaunted. It was as a cabaret singer that he made his debut in the amusement world. In addition to regular engagements in cabarets he sang on a contract with Jos. W. Stern & Co., introducing their latest song hits. After a tour through Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York and New England he had a reputation as “the little fellow with the big voice” and came back to Broadway to find vaudeville and minstrel engagements waiting for a performer of about his calibre. In fact, wherever he has been his services have been in demand as a vaudeville entertainer, from Boston to Jacksonville, Fla. In the latter place he played a number of vaudeville and concert engagements in addition to picture work with the Vim Film Corporation. Played By Ralph Ince.
His first venture in the movies was with the old Reliance Film Company, where he was seen in good parts with Rosemary Theby. After this company went to the wall because of financial difficulties through lawsuits he returned to vaudeville; but not for long, as he had “the bug” and wandered into a vitagraph to take a chance again at the bottom of the ladder. Ralph Ince, the comedy director, soon noticed him and had him play all kinds of parts in farce comedy. In “He Danced Himself” Bletcher played four different parts, in only one of which he looked like himself. In the other three his identity was hidden completely, especially as the corpse brought to life by the “lively” waltz and a slight accident. Starred in Jarr Family.
Director Davenport, of the Vitagraph Comedy Co., started a serial entitled “The Jarr Family.” In it Rose Tapley, Billy Bletcher, and some of the very best farceurs of that company had Lancastrians going every week to see Jarr, his troubles and joys. It was with the Vitagraph that Bletcher scored some of his best hits. Among these were: "Tomboy and Freckles” and "The Methods of Margaret,” in both of which he supported Lillian Walker; and “Whose Husband?” in which as the old sea captain he played the best of four good parts with: Flora Finch, Kate Price and Jay Dwiggins. With this company he played other good part too numerous to mention; but he could be seen every week and oftener on the screen at the leading Lancaster photo-play houses. Not to be passed without note, however, are the Sidney Drew comedies in which he always had especially good parts. Mrs. Billy Bletcher.
It was during his engagement with the Vitagraph people that he met Miss Arline H. Roberts, of Brooklyn, who was to become the future Mrs. Bletcher, then playing parts in motion pictures with the same company. Mrs. Bletcher is a rising young artist, who has made good in ingenue parts, and will be heard from in the near future.
It was while he was with the Wizard Film Company, a branch concern of the World Film Corporation, that he played prominent action parts in “Marrying Money,” "Over Night,” etc.
Working In Jacksonville.
Last December 15 the young Lancastrian and his wife started to work for the Vim Comedy Co. at Jacksonville, Fla. Some of the pictures produced there, in which they appeared, were shown at two Lancaster theaters and seemed to please many people. These films were of the wild, rollicking, “slap-stick” variety.
At the present time Billy Bletcher is in New York City, and its environs, where he is working every day with that determination and enthusiasm which have marked his whole career and insure him a great future.
His cartoon career was briefly mentioned in several articles in the ‘30s, with the exception of this story from 1937; it appeared in papers over the course of months whenever an editor needed entertainment filler. The writer was at one time with the Associated Press; I believe he was freelancing for a syndicate at this point.
Hollywood News And Gossip BY ROBBIN COONS
Hollywood— The man with a thousand voices has just signed away one of them.
For 15 years—in vaudeville, on the air, in pictures—Billy Bletcher has been in show business. His weird ability to mimic anybody or anything practically stole away his own identity. He found himself becoming a “voice” — or many voices.
Once, on the air, he substituted for a famous comedian and 1isteners never knew the difference. When Hollywood’s animated cartoons began to talk. Billy spoke for all of them. Vocally, he has been pig, frog, dog, rabbit, mouse, horse, cat, practically all the creatures of the animated screen. In spare time he has played parts in feature pictures, sung on the air. His tenor is trained for music, too.
Metro was launching a new series of talking cartoons, “The Captain and the Kids.” For it, Bletcher was signed to a contract. He will speak for the Captain—and he cannot use that voice for any other purpose.
But he is still free to use the other 999 voices in his repertory. He calls it the ideal contract.
Bletcher continued to appear on camera after sound came in. He made shorts with Billy Gilbert. One of his roles was in the Jack Benny feature Buck Benny Rides Again (1940). Jerry Lewis cast him, too. His last hurrah may have been a 1971 turn as Pappy Yokum in an ABC-TV special, filmed on a lot where he had made motion pictures more than a half-century earlier. He died in 1979 at the age of 84.
One of the most famous of all routines from the days of network radio was Fibber McGee’s closet. As soon as he opened it, the sound effects man unleashed a cascade of noise of falling stuff that ended with the tinkling of a bell. Audiences loved it.
If that’s the case, they should love it when Barney Bear does the same thing. And he did in The Uninvited Pest (1943). The pest happens to be a squirrel, who wants to eat the nuts Barney is munching on in bed. Barney eventually fires his rifle at the critter, blowing a hole in the closet door (conveniently labelled “closet”). Barney decides to go in after him.
Cue the Barney multiples to quicken the action.
The Film Daily called the film "amusing." Maybe I just don't find frustration humour funny. Barney Bear doesn't do a thing for me.
This was Rudy Ising's last directorial effort at MGM before going off to war at Camp Roach. George Gordon took over and made a few more Barney cartoons before he left to work for Hugh Harman.
Tex Avery tries out “magic tricks gone wrong” gags in Hamateur Night and Believe It Or Else, both released by Warners in 1939.
Here’s the one from Hamateur Night. Note one of Avery’s silhouettes (Egghead in this case) in the first frame.
Swami River commands Egghead to come out.
“Usher, give this gentleman his money back.”
In Believe It Or Else, the gag is sawing Egghead in half. It may be the funnier of the two magic-trick gags.
It’s still a crime that neither cartoon has been released on a home video format, outside of laser discs years ago. These are two of Avery’s more solid cartoons at Warners, though I can’t say I’m escited about the animation of Swami River in the scene above.
Paul J. Smith gets the revolving animator credit, with Jack Miller handed the story credit.
You likely haven’t heard of the Greenbush Players in Blauvelt, N.Y. You probably haven’t heard of the play “Over 21,” presented by the aforementioned players in August 1945.
You probably have heard of the director of the play, Ruth Gordon, who later won an Oscar, an Emmy and two Golden Globes. And you may have heard of one of the supporting players who had a small part in her stage effort.
His name was John Fiedler.
You saw him on television through the ‘60s and ‘70s. He played meek, quiet guys, though occasionally he portrayed a meek villain.
He also had good fortune in being re-cast. Fiedler was hired to play Vinnie in The Odd Couple on Broadway, then appeared in the role in the film. Despite his TV experience, he wasn’t in the television version (Larry Gelman played it until network research found viewers didn't like poker on TV and the role was dropped). Fiedler appeared in the television and movie versions of Twelve Angry Men and in Raisin in the Sun, both in film and on stage.
This story appeared in papers on July 29, 1979.
Live TV Gone By DICK KLEINER United Feature Syndicate
HOLLYWOOD — Like so many other successful New York actors, John Fiedler had it pretty good in the heyday of live television. But the live TV dried up and TV production moved to Hollywood.
And so did Fiedler.
"I came out here in 1960,” he says “for a month. And I’m still here — and I love it."
Actually, Fiedler came out to California in the company that was performing “A Raisin In the Sun.” Most times, Broadway play casts are replaced for national, but this particular group came west intact.
“I thought I’d just be here for the run of that play,” Fiedler says. “I kept my New York apartment, so I'd have something to go back to. But that month slowly became a year, then several years, and after a year or so, I gave up the apartment.”
Of course, almost as soon as he gave up his New York apartment, he needed it. He was summoned back to New York to do a play, which turned out to be a classic. Fiedler was in the original can of Neil Simon's “The Odd Couple.” He was fortunate in that he was able to trade apartments with a west-bound New York actor.
Incidentally, Fiedler believes he has a very unusual achievement — he wrote some of Neil Simon's words. In “The Odd Couple," one of the great comic moments involves a poker game.
"All Simon's script said," Fiedler recalls, “was just, ‘They play poker,' with no directions and no dialogue. So Mike Nichols, the director, asked which of the group of us actually played poker. I said I did, and it turned out I was the only one who really knew the game.
“So Nichols asked me to arrange the scene, and to add the necessary dialogue — you know, things like 'I raise you five' — so it would all look realistic and wind up at the right moment. Anyhow, when the play was published, all those lines I had added like ‘I raise you five', were in the manuscript."
Actually, card playing is perhaps Fiedler's only hobby. He plays some poker, but bridge is his real game, and be is a frequent and ardent player. He plays duplicate frequently and is also part of a game of friends that meets regularly. Among the group is actor Billy Sands, a veteran of the Phil Silvers days.
“Each week,” Fiedler says, “we all put $20 in the kitty, and we use that money once a year to go on trips. We've been to San Francisco and we've been to Hawaii. This year, we're not going anywhere, hoping that if we skip a year we’ll have enough to go to Europe next year."
Fiedler is, as anyone who has seen his ingenuous face and heard his distinctive voice knows, one of our more successful character actors of the moment. It's a role he likes, since he thinks there is more security in playing character parts than in being a leading man.
He comes from Milwaukee, Wis., and went right into the Navy in World War II after graduating from high school. It was a good life — he became a yeoman and most of his service was spent at the Pentagon.
After World War II, he used his GI Bill of Rights payments to attend drama school — New York's Neighborhood Playhouse. He graduated just in time to be smack in the middle of the live TV boom in New York, and he flourished.
When he came here, and elected to stay, he was also in demand. That was in the days when guest-starring roles paid pretty big money. But those days appear to be over.
He just did a guest-starring role on “Vega$!" and enjoyed it. He says he played a school principal who was a pimp on the side. He enjoys playing parts like that, parts that are unusual. One of his all-time favorites was on “Star Trek," when he played Jack the Ripper reincarnated.
This feature story in the June 1, 1996 edition of the Hartford Courant gave a good summary of his career.
What's-his-name at TheaterWorks By FRANK RIZZO Courant Staff Writer
John Fiedler knows the look.
From across the counter at the lunch shop in Hartford, the man who is getting him his tomato soup gives him a curious gaze.
He knows Fiedler, he's just not sure from where. He knows he's famous, he's just not sure how. He knows that he likes him, he's just not sure why.
He might know him as Mr. Peterson, the perpetually worried psychiatric patient, in the television series "The Bob Newhart Show," which ran from 1972 to 1978.
It could be as Vinny, the poker-playing buddy in the stage play and movie, “The Odd Couple.”
Or if Fiedler opens his mouth to speak, it could be as the voice of Piglet in Walt Disney's animated version of "Winnie the Pooh" (or as the voice of characters in "The Rescuers," "Robin Hood" and "The Fox and the Hound").
Fiedler has one of those distinctive faces and voices. And he finds that this waiter's reaction in Hartford is no different from any other city in America where the Brooklyn Heights-based actor has traveled.
The 71-year-old Fiedler is currently starring in TheaterWorks production of Jeffrey Hatcher's "Three Viewings." The play is composed of three separate monologues set in a mortuary. (Rosemary Prinz and Catherine Curtin are featured in the other two solo pieces.)
In Fiedler's piece, entitled "Tell-Tale," the actor plays Emil, a mild-mannered undertaker infatuated with a woman who comes to every one of his funerals.
"He's a dreamer," says Fiedler. His high-pitched voice is the sound of an old child, tentative yet seasoned, breathless yet weary. "It's very amusing, but it's also an emotional piece." 'A Raisin in the Sun'
Fiedler, who grew up in Milwaukee, loved the stage as far back as he can remember.
After high school, with World War II raging, he joined the Navy. When the war ended, he went to New York and studied at the Neighborhood Playhouse.
"I was a movie buff, but I always wanted to be on the stage," he says.
He made his Broadway debut in "The Seagull" with Montgomery Clift and his career was launched.
"By the time I was 26, I supported myself as an actor," says Fiedler. "I knew I was going to be a character actor from the beginning. With my voice and my looks, I got the milquetoast, nerd parts."
Countless roles followed, and he often worked the mild-mannered image to villainous advantage, playing a presidential assassin in 1960 [sic] in "I Spy," or a murderer in "Perry Mason."
His first big hit was playing Mr. Lindner, the white-collar racist in the original production of Lorraine Hansberry's "A Raisin in the Sun," directed by Lloyd Richards (which had its world premiere at New Haven's Shubert Theater).
The play went through drastic revisions, says Fiedler. "Lloyd helped make the brother played by Sidney Poitier the focus of the play," he says, "because Lloyd felt there was no conflict with the sister who was the main character in the original version."
Fiedler made his movie debut in 1957 by re-creating his role in the television production of "12 Angry Men," starring Henry Fonda. (He would again appear with Fonda in a stage revival of "Our Town.")
Among his more than three dozen film roles were parts in "That Touch of Mink," "True Grit," "The World of Henry Orient," "Kiss Me Stupid," "Cannonball Run," "Sharkey's Machine," "Harper Valley P.T.A." and the screen versions of "A Raisin in the Sun" and "The Odd Couple."
But it seems that he gets the most recognition from his television roles, especially since cable television has revived many of those shows. Some nights you could call Fiedler king of Nick at Night.
There, he is on regular episodes of "Bewitched," "Dobie Gillis," "The Munsters," "The Odd Couple," and, of course, "The Bob Newhart Show."
Fielder says he gets residuals from some, but not all, of the old shows. He said it wasn't until the mid-'70s that a new contract was established for the television industry giving actors residuals for their work.
Though he is most recognized as Newhart's Mr. Peterson (a role he performed for 17 episodes), he says he gets an amazing amount of recognition from just one episode, "The Wolf in the Fold," in the original "Star Trek" series, in which he played Jack the Ripper reincarnated in outer space.
Because of that singular appearance, he often is asked to appear at "Star Trek" conventions.
"They pay me $2,000," he says. "I go there for the weekend; they show the thing; I talk a little bit; they ask questions; and I sign a hundred pictures." 'Buffalo Bill'
Fiedler's favorite role was as Woody, the unctuous lackey to the self-centered talk show host played by Dabney Coleman in the much-admired but short-lived TV series, "Buffalo Bill," which ran in 1983 and 1984.
That 26-episode series also featured such talents as Geena Davis, Joanna Cassidy, Meshach Taylor, Max Wright and Charles Robinson.
"That was my favorite character, and that was my favorite work situation," he says. "I was truly happy for every minute of it. We were all heartbroken when it ended."
Fiedler says his voice spurs as much recognition as his face, especially from people with young children who hear the sound of Piglet. (Walt Disney personally chose Fiedler to be the voice of the Pooh's pink pal.)
Fiedler has just completed voicing Piglet for the first feature-length "Winnie the Pooh."
"They're usually in the woods, but for this there's a dream so they go all over," he says. "It's going to look spectacular."
Of all the characters he has played, Fiedler says "there are lot of elements of Piglet that are me: the shyness and the anxieties and the fears. Even after all these years. The more you know, the higher your standards are and the more you have to lose."
Suddenly, a waitress approaches Fiedler, who is finishing his lunch.
"Good afternoon," she says. "Are you that famous actor on 'Bob Newhart'? You are? May I please have your autograph?"
Fiedler obliges.
"Thank you," says the woman. What’s your name?"
I remember him on Get Smart and Bewitched but, in the later years, he was off-camera and working in animation. Fiedler was 80 when he died in 2005.
Two things are notable about Van Beuren’s Fly Frolic—there’s a great anonymous vocal of “Kickin’ the Gong Around” in mid-cartoon, and the John Foster/Harry Bailey team tossed in a spoof of Paramount’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931).
A hideous spider (after singing the aforementioned song) kidnaps a girl fly, takes her to his secret lab and then mixes a concoction. You know the scene. Van Beuren didn’t exactly have top-flight animators, but I get the impression they were trying for something beyond what they were normally doing, as we get double-exposures and an animated swirling effect.
Now that the transition has happened, nothing is done with it. Maybe Foster and Bailey realised they were almost out of time, so they quickly wrapped up the cartoon. The heroine points at the transformed spider, shouts “That’s. Him,” and he quickly changes back before being beaten up to end the cartoon.
This was the 500th Aesop Fable made by the Van Beuren studio, going back to the silent days when the Fables studio put out 52 of them a year. Sound cut that number and, by 1932, the company was producing Tom and Jerry cartoons as well.
On the radio, Joe Penner had “Wanna buy a duck?” “You naaaasty man!” and “Don’t ever DO that?” Jack Pearl had “Vass you dere, Sharlie?” And when those phrases got tiresome, there wasn’t a whole lot left.
Jack Benny was different. Yes, he had pet phrases, but over the years he also developed so many traits and side characters that his show didn’t sound exactly the same every week.
Unlike Penner and Pearl, whose repetitious routines wore out in time, Jack was able to carry on year after year, adding a host of occasional, but familiar, traits into plots with his established characters.
The entertainment columnist of the Kansas City Star commented on that in a column of January 25, 1948, admitting audiences were quite happy with Benny’s approach.
The Jack Benny Show Follows A Strict Comedy Formula On Almost Every Program the Listener May Expect the Dialogue to Touch on at Least Ten Set Subjects and the Dialers Like It
ACCORDING to a Sedalia reader, this department has been derelict in its duty to radio listeners. We have been paying too much attention to Bob Hope and overlooking two of the greatest comedians on the air— Jack Benny and Fred Allen.
The letter from the reader was kind of rough in spots and we will not quote any of it directly. The theme was that Hope is lousy and if it were not for his stooges he wouldn't have a listener, and that Benny and Allen are so doggone funny they leave him rolling in the living room floor or someplace every Sunday night. Laugh at Their Jokes
Our sense of humor apparently isn't quite as keenly developed as that of the Sedalia man, but we laugh occasionally at both Mr. Benny and Mr. Allen as we do sometimes at Mr. Hope. And we may not have given either Benny or Allen any “plugs" recently but it isn't because we have anything against them. A year or so ago we used so much about Allen we were accused of being on his pay roll.
That pay-roll crack hurt us. Someone thought all those "plugs" were good enough to bring in some of that stuff comedians call "happy lettuce" and we weren't getting a cent. So we just quit saying anything about Mr. Allen and he kept right on being funny (occasionally) and staying in the first ten (every week).
We kept right on listening, too, and probably haven't missed any more broadcasts of Benny or Allen than the Sedalia fan. However, we can truthfully say we never have been knocked off our chair by either. The only radio comedian who ever did that was an upstart named Henry Morgan and it wasn't with a joke about being stingy, having no hair, the bags under Allen's eyes. But more of that later. His Timing Is Tops
We still are sensitive about that Allen affair so until the wound heals we will confine this largely to Benny's program. We believe Benny is one of the top comedians of the air. He has a remarkable sense of timing and emphasis.
Sixteen years on the air and still in the in the top ten testifies to his ability and appeal better than anything we could say. But Benny like so many others isn't any better than his writers, and like the writers in other camps, they have built an illusion from which most of the comedy springs.
For some reason or other people like to laugh at the shortcomings, the abnormal traits and physical deficiencies of others, especially when the others are radio comedians. Benny and his writers have capitalized on that. The show generally follows the formula sometimes (as in the case of last week's program in Denver) almost exclusively.
Maybe it isn't fair to pick last week's show for analysis since it was on the road and all the bromides were dusted off. However it emphasizes the pattern. A Formula Broken Down
There must be at least one joke or mention of:
1. Don Wilson's bulk.
2. Benny's (imaginary) toupe.
3. Benny's frugality.
4. Mary Livingstone's poem (or letter from mother).
5. Phil Harris's lack or education.
6. Harris's fondness for hard liquor.
7. Fred Allen.
8. Benny's age (38).
9. Dennis Day’s innocence (not used in Denver).
10. The latest magazine in which a picture or article appeared about Benny or one of the cast.
With these essentials as a starting point, the writers get together and throw in a few topical jokes, a couple of places for Mary to go haw, HAW, HAW, and if there is a guest, some formula gags that have come to fit the particular star. It's good stuff though.
The Denver broadcast followed the pattern pretty closely. Wilson told Benny that he was an incubator baby, born in Denver, and that Denver loves him (Wilson).
Benny to Wilson—Denver loves every square mile of you. They still have the incubator and are holding a rodeo in it—ro-dayo as in Anaheim, Cucamonga and Azusa.
Mary remarked to Benny that Denver's mayor was only 35 years old and Benny answered that he was only three years older than the mayor.
Mary read a poem about Wilson's size.
Wilson told Benny he heard the "that's a lot of bull" line on the Fred Allen show two weeks ago.
Harris didn't know what was the capital of Colorado but knew how many pool rooms there were in the state. Rented Out His Suite. Rochester called on the telephone to tell Benny that the hotel was complaining because Benny rented out the twin bed, rented part of the suite for a coffee shop, a barber shop and laundry in the bathroom and had installed slot machines.
A telegram from Fred Allen was read which said: "I understand there also is a stock show in Denver and it is fighting a losing battle."
And finally there was a plug about a Liberty magazine picture of Benny.
The high spots of the show, in the opinion of this listener, were:
When Rochester was told that Colorado's governor was 38 years old, he replied:
"Ain't everybody."
When Kitzel said he was carrying an .88 revolver and Benny asked him if he didn't mean .44, Kitzel said:
"No, an .88, why be half safe."
And the quartet singing the commercial to the tune of "Home On the Range."
Benny is the man behind the improved commercials on the show. The quartet idea is one of the best and most clever on the air. And it has been due to Benny's insistence that the tobacco auctioneers have become less and less a part of the commercial message.
The only solid criticism we have of the Benny programs is its tendency to get extremely loud at times, especially when Benny goes into his screaming routine in an attempt to stop the quartet. Then we would just as soon hear the auctioneers.
And speaking of commercials, if Fred Allen does his "Tobacco Opera" a few more times, he may laugh the outlandish cigarette claims off the air.
The columnist, on one hand, seems dismissive of the Benny formula, but admits “it’s good stuff.” And he or she misses the fact that Jack was involved in the writing and gave the “yea” or “nay” to every word spoken on the show (with the exception of ad-libs by Bob Hope, Fred Allen, Bing “Who the Hell Picked Out This Key” Crosby and other guests).
And there was much more to the Benny show than what was outlined in the column. All kinds of rotating elements were added: the telephone operators, Sheldon Leonard’s tout, Frank Nelson’s floorwalker, the Maxwell, Sara Berner’s sinus-y singer, Professor LeBlanc, the vault, and many more familiar to, and loved by, Benny fans. Jack was still getting mileage out of both Kenny Baker and Carmichael/gas man into the ‘50s, long after they left the show. He had a knack of knowing when those gags might work. It provided him with an audience on television, long after other top radio acts faded away.
