Oh, Benita!

Jack Benny’s radio show in the second of the 1940s benefitted from terrific casting, with new funny characters appearing on the show. One of the most inspired choices Jack could have made was hiring Ronald Colman and Benita Hume to play his next-door neighbours.

It could have been a disaster. Colman’s upper-crest Englishman could have come across as cold and superior. But Colman was a fine actor. Listeners could identify with him, an exasperated man who had been imposed upon time and time again by the socially-inept cheapskate Benny. It’s how they might have reacted. Benita proved to have comic abilities, too, and provided a humorous counterpoint to her husband.

On television, Jack used Jimmy and Gloria Stewart the same way, but I’ve always thought the Colmans were better. Ronnie still had a very English properness and bearing while, at the same time, was willing to make fun of himself (carrying his Oscar to a race-track, handing out cards with his signature, praising his own movies).

The Benny appearances were so effective, even Hollywood stars thought the Colmans lived next to Jack (they didn’t), and gave them an open door for their own series, The Halls of Ivy, which managed to tread the line between comedy and drama.

There were times you thought the Colmans were on the Benny show, but they weren’t. In another neat bit of casting, the Colmans’ butler Sherwood, played by London-born Eric Snowden, would appear and refer to his employers, as if they were about to come on the air.

The Colmans make an appearance in a column about Jack by Tex McCrary and Jinx Falkenburg. They were, until the avalanche known as Milton Berle appeared, probably the biggest stars on television before 1948. Their careers petered out as the 1950s wore on and new people came to the fore on TV.

Here’s their column of December 10, 1951, courtesy of the Herald Tribune Syndicate. This also includes Jack being quite serious about his trip to Korea during the war there to entertain and comfort soldiers.

CANDID CLOSE-UP
By TEX McCRARY and JINX FALKENBURG
KNOWN to audiences as a top comic, among comedians Jack Benny is the best possible audience. He proved it at the Friars' dinner this year, where he spent most of the evening writhing in the happy agony of laughter at Fred Allen, for instance, who was the first major casualty in TV, but scored highest at the Waldorf that night. Jack remembers that this joke hit him hardest:
"Jack Benny used to play the backwoods theaters," wheezed Fred Allen. "In fact one theater was so far back in the woods that the manager was a bear! (Laughter.) They paid him off in honey! (Howls of laughter.)”
And George Burns, minus Gracie Allen, "belted" Benny, too: "George's speech was the kind of thing you say to three people around a table—but the way he did it, it made a thousand people howl. He kidded me about how easy it is to make me laugh. He proved it with a glass of water. He held up a glass and said, 'Look Jack—a glass of water." I screamed!"
Perhaps because he has spent a lot of time on both sides of laughter. Jack Benny is the most highly skilled craftsman in his trade—deftly, he devised a formula whereby Ronald Colman could get laughs without losing dignity, and thus created for Colman a brand-new career as a polished comic:
"Ronnie had been—and still is—the most dignified figure in California. He did very little radio, other than serious dramatic things. His agents talked him into one comedy show that just about convinced him never to try it again— one of those insult routines.
"About a year later, I got the idea of using him on my show—but with a switch: Let him pitch—I was the target. We're very good friends, and Ronnie agreed to do it for me on my promise that it would be in complete good taste. Maybe you remember the show . . . the telephone rang in the Colmans' home and Benita picked it up . . .
Benita: It's fah you, Ronnie.
Colman: Who is it, Benitah?
Benita: Jack Benny.
Colman: Please, not while I'm eating.
"Ronnie loved being on the throwing end of insults. Told me he'd come back on the program again any time."
He did come back, often. The Ronald Colman spots are radio classics. Colman has great respect for Benny's sense of timing, his feel for comedy. At broadcast rehearsals. Jack would repeatedly break in: "Ronnie, you're not reading that line right. Try it this way . . .”
Only once was Jack a little timid about his directing the week—Ronald Colman won the academy award.
Only once has Jack been stopped cold by an audience—and it was an audience of one. The story starts in Korea, where Jack spent 19 days at the front last summer, bringing a little laughter to a bunch of homesick, battle-weary kids.
"Whenever I'd do a show for hundreds of those kids, the faces of one or two of them would always seem to win out over the sameness of men in battle dress. One face here—one face there—seemed to sum up the whole story. And one day there was a kid that had every headline written right across his young face. He was sitting down front, and after the show, he came over to me, and talked a little—I don't remember what he said probably asked questions about things back in the States. The details, I forgot, but the face . . . never!
"Two weeks later, I was walking through a hospital in Tokyo, going from bed to bed, telling jokes, getting laughs. I heard a voice calling out—‘Hey, remember me?’ I turned around and all the bitterness of the war hit me right where a laugh lives. I was that same young face I'd seen up front in Korea. This time, it wasn't so easy to talk to him. What can you say to get a laugh from a kid who's lost both his legs . . .?”
In Korea, Jack got close enough to the front lines to feel the thump of howitzer fire:
"I stood nearby watching the boys setting off one round after another—they asked me if I would like to fire one. Sure . . . and I did. Afterward, the boys picked up the shell casing and autographed it for me. They said I had made history—not only the first comedian, but the first civilian to fire a howitzer at the enemy."
Besides laughter, Jack took with him to Korea, something else men miss—"Marjorie Reynolds!

Remember the bit Faye Emerson did on my television show that long, long kissing routine, with Frank Sinatra? I wanted to use the same hit in Korea—Marjorie Reynolds was fine for Faye Emerson's part, but I had to be very careful about picking the right actor for Sinatra's role. You see, it would be very difficult for any actor, playing next to me, to register enough impact as a lover. I finally found somebody, and of course, coached him on the kissing technique. By the time of our first show, he had adapted himself to my style quite well. The boys liked him, and if I go back to Korea, I think I'll take Errol Flynn with me again . . .”

If you read Irving Fein’s biography of Benny, you can find some of the dialogue between him and Flynn in their Asian tour. Fein reveals the pace of the tour caught up with Jack, whose doctor ordered him to go to bed for a week when he got home.

As for the Colmans, their last appearance on Jack’s radio show was October 28, 1951. They re-made their radio debut from 1945 on the Benny TV show on November 4, 1956. It was their only appearance with Jack on television. By that time, the Colmans weren’t “next door” to Benny; they were living in Santa Barbera. Colman’s acting career was just about finished. He told the United Press at the time the kinds of roles he played weren’t being written any more. His health may have been a reason, too. He was treated in hospital in 1957 for lung problems which took his life the following year.

Say No to Flipper!

Who could possibly object to Flipper?

The fine folks at NAFBRAT, that’s who.

NAFBRAT is the acronym for one of the do-gooder groups that declared what kids should and shouldn’t watch. We’ve had a couple of posts about them on this blog before. The fact they found Pat Boone objectionable may indicate how much credibility they deserved.

The group’s biggest concern seems to have been violence. Roy Rogers came under the ire of tongue-cluckers because he fired a gun (would they be praising him under the Second Amendment today?). At the end of the decade, other activists were aghast that cereal box mascots were starring in a half-hour cartoon show, but that didn’t bother NAFBRAT in 1965.

Here is the group’s report for that year, as reported in the Miami Herald of March 17, 1965.

What a Survey Says of Children’s Shows
By JACK ANDERSON
Herald Radio-TV Editor
PARENTS who care what their moppets are viewing on television may be interested in some of the evaluations made by the National Association for Better Radio and Television of kids’ show in its just issued manual, “Television for the Family.”
NAFBRAT, headquartered in Los Angeles, has been riding herd on TV programming for some 16 years.
The latest survey contains 76 pages of evaluations of 344 network and syndicated programs—current, in rerun or just recently deceased.

NAFBRAT devotes attention to the viewing fare for every age level of the family but it’s particularly concerned with suitable for children. And what it considers suitable—and vice versa—may surprise you.
For example, NBC’s Flipper, contrary to what you might expect, is not, in NAFBRAT’s opinion, recommended for younger children.
The committee says its evaluation “is made reluctantly because Flipper has several qualities which intrigue and delight children for whom it is primarily intended.”
But, the committee says sternly, “the program is unacceptable for children because of the inclusion of crime elements and the dangers to which the youngsters in the cast are subjected.”
This writer isn’t a constant Flipper viewer but I’d have to side with Producer Ivan Tors in this case. He would be hard put to turn out a batch of episodes with its little heroes doing nothing but tossing their dolphin a fish.
● ● ● ●
NAFBRAT’s evaluations of two new shows at the teen level are rather interestingly disparate. It loves ABC’s Shindig but hates NBC’s Hullabaloo.
Shindig is described as “a very fast-moving show with rarely a dragging moment” and is recommended for family and teens. But “highly objectionable” is Hullabaloo, the rival NBC show of the same general format, says NAFBRAT.
“This is a vulgar and brazen ‘musical’ show. A TV disgrace,” is its description of this one.
● ● ● ●

CBS EMERGES with the greatest number of NAFBRAT-approved shows for the kiddies. The Alvin Cartoon series [right], Capt. Kangaroo, Jeff’s Collies (Lassie reruns) and the current Lassie series, and Linus the Lion-hearted [above, left] are all recommended for children. Its My Friend Flicka and Tennessee Tuxedo are at least acceptable.
The NBC inventory of children's shows (or all-family shows) is praised for its Exploring, Kentucky Jones, Watch Mr. Wizard and Wild Kingdom—all recommended for youngsters. But NAFBRAT puts its “objectionable for children” stamp on such NBC properties as Fireball XL 5, Fury, Hector Heathcote, Underdog and—as aforementioned—Flipper.
NAFBRAT commends to viewing such ABC shows as Bullwinkle, the Casper Cartoons and the Magic Land of Allakazam and Discovery, and finds Beany and Cecil and Bugs Bunny at least acceptable.
It puts the Indian sign on such ABC entries as Hoppity Hooper, Porky Pig and Jonny Quest, the latter classified as "highly objectionable.”
Among the non-network-affiliated or syndicated shows, Romper Room, Deputy Dawg, Huckleberry Hound, Mickey Mouse Club (or the Mouseketeers) and Yogi Bear all have NAFBRAT's blessings.
But the organization is still gunning for such old relics still being programmed for children as Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers, Superman, The Three Stooges, Abbott and Costello, and Popeye—all of them classified as or for children.

Everyone’s entitled to their opinion. But, for some, opinion wasn’t enough. “Action for Children’s Television” wanted just that—action. It succeeded in imposing their views on others and, basically, parenting other people’s children.

For a time, anyway. ACT is gone, but Space Ghost lives on, thanks to DVD. NAFBRAT’s finger-wagging hasn’t stopped fans today from binge-watching the finger-jabbing Three Stooges. Now, if they could only bring back locally-produced kids TV shows with funny hosts.

Tom Take

Tex Avery was the master of funny, extreme takes at M-G-M, but they showed up occasionally in the Hanna-Barbera unit, too.

Here’s an example (by Ken Muse) from Mouse For Sale, released in 1953. The studio has ditched the stereotype black maid for the stereotype thin-and-trim ‘50s housewife (played by June Foray). Tom hides some money under the carpet. Tom rests. The housewife then tells him she’s going shopping with money she found under the rug.

Anticipation and reaction drawings.

Here’s a later take, when Tom’s face flies off his head.

The face changes angles slightly in other drawings to let the audience pick up the take.

Muse, Irv Spence, Ed Barge and Ray Patterson are the animators.

This is a cartoon where Tom wins in the end.

Celebrities Like Mountain Music

Harman-Ising’s I Like Mountain Music (1933) has nothing to do with mountains. It’s set in Peter’s Drug Store, where celebrity caricatures, ethnic minorities and others come to life. There are three westerners who sing and play the title song, but they’re not mountaineers.

What caricatures do we get?



Jan Paderewski. I’d love to see more of that “Learn to Animate” ad to the right. (Note: Devon Baxter says “Brophy” was a nickname of animator and later NBC TV executive Norm Blackburn).



David Rubinoff, who was part of Eddie Cantor's radio show. In this cartoon, Cantor is talking into the camera to “Jimmy,” referring to their announcer, Jimmy Wallington.



Will Rogers.



The “Vexico Big Cheef,” Ed Wynn, letting out with his “Soooooo” he used to say to his announcer, Graham McNamee.



George Arliss in the upper left corner.



Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.



Edward G. Robinson, star of the 1931 Warner Bros. feature Little Caeser. Oh, and Greta Garbo is Greta “Grabo.” Now that’s comedy!



The cartoon studio would be caricaturing Benito Mussolini a little different 10 years later.



“Ping Pong!” It’s a play on “King Kong!” Get it? (The “Texaco” pun is worse, but this one is pretty obvious).

Frank Marsales treats us to the title song in several different tempos.

Friz Freleng and Larry Martin get the animation credits in this cartoon.

Fred Allen’s Cure For Radio

In the 1940s, Fred Allen aimed his wit at the witless things in radio—network executives, ad agency executives, banal musical guessing games, commercials, even studio audiences. He did it on the air and off the air. He seemed to become more jaded about broadcasting as time wore on.

We have two Allen stories below. The first comes from the Chicago Tribune of June 30, 1935. Allen explains the problems with the industry and some ideas to improve it, in a rather measured and practical tone.

FRED ALLEN, SET FOR REST, TELLS OF RADIO'S WOES
Start at Scratch Every Week, Says Jester.
BY LARRY WOLTERS.
Fred Allen has got the last more than 160 full hour broadcasts behind him and is ready for a vacation. He and Portland (Tallyho) Hoffa, his wife, have their bags packed for a trip to Hollywood, where Fred is ready to take more punishment in the shape of making his bow in pictures in a film titled "Sing, Governor, Sing,” which will also headline Phil Baker and several other persons well known to the airways.
On the eve of his departure for the west he sat down on his luggage and took time out to say a word or two about the broadcasting business, to which he has been enslaved ever since he left the stage on which he used to appear with Libby Holman and Clifton Webb.
Allen got his start as John Sullivan of the Boston Sullivans doing a juggling act at an amateur show. But that doesn't mean that he particularly likes amateur hours even though he is master of ceremonies of one of the more popular ones.
Fate of Amateur Hours Foreseen.
“Amateurs,” he said, “seem to be accomplishing what long hours of study and planning fail to do. But amateur shows, I imagine will run their course. The impression Major Bowes gives that he is providing an opportunity for forgotten performers clicks with the American people. They like to see some one getting a break. Then, too, it's an adventure with an informality that is a welcome relief from the cut and dried program routine."
Radio ought to begin thinking about protecting talent as well as discovering more, Allen holds. He asserts that sponsors aren't interested in developing new talent or ideas. They want some one who already has a reputation, some one who can attract an audience immediately. As soon as his gloss fades a bit they want to try another name. Thus radio has already used everybody in the theater.
Suggests Closed Season.
Allen has a suggestion to get away from this. He thinks there might well be a closed season, for example, on comedians for six months of the year. Let sponsors run to humor for half the year and then turn to symphonic music or something else for the remaining six months. That would give jesters and others who must provide original material for each broadcast a chance to rest up and sparkle anew.
“If radio was a single performance, of course, it would be less of a headache, but when it is a week to week show it must be different each time," continued the comedian.
“It takes seven days every week to prepare the program. Radio in this respect cannot be compared with the stage. In the theater most of the worries are confined to the days prior to the premiere.
“There are so many things that enter radio that the theater is lucky to miss. If a druggist in Texas complains that the program is not popular in his region, the whole show may be altered. The theater never has such a worry. In radio people who know nothing about the show business frequently cause the entire broadcast to be shifted.
Fuzzless Peaches Not New.
“Public reaction quickly makes itself felt. A comedian may think he has a new fangled idea, but soon learns is far behind the times. We talked about fuzzless peaches as a new idea, in fact a comic one, but would you believe that a man in the state of Washington wrote that he had really perfected such a peach? He sent me a sample, but the mail clerk ate it.
“On various occasions I mentioned that we should have electric mousetrap, names grown on apples, and dripless ice cream cones. When the mail came in it revealed all these inventions had been perfected. They were not the mere dreams of a comedian, but the real thing.
The Hunt for Material.
“The biggest problem is in finding subject matter," continued Mr. Allen. "We have heard that the mental age at the radio audience is quite low, but I don't think so. For example, Jack Benny has one of the best programs, and it is highly sophisticated. He was one of the first to adapt his style to radio, while other old stagers thought it wise to follow the wornout vaudeville formula of throwing jokes by straight comedy. They fell by the side of the wave lengths; the out and out question and answer comedians were passe ten years ago.
“Radio is a medium of expression, and as such requires special writing; theater technique alone is not enough. The performer who succeeds on the air must start at scratch every week. It’s a concentrated thing, this radio.

One place where Allen could take shots at the ridiculousness he saw around the radio industry was in the radio studio itself. Not while he was on the air, but during the audience warm-up (one of his on-air attacks against an imaginary NBC executive got his show faded off the air; the episode, unfortunately, isn’t publicly available). Here’s the Chicago Tribune again, November 20, 1938. The Allen show was still an hour long but had dropped amateur portion, which took up a good half-hour without the need for a lot of writing on Allen’s part. 1938 is before the days of Allen’s Alley and regular guest stars. The Mighty Allen Art Players did a sketch and, besides music, a good portion was still taken up with segments involving non-professionals (one mentioned below was scripted and the readings could get painful).

FUNNY TO HEAR, ALLEN SHOW IS FUNNIER TO SEE
Jester Saves Best Stuff for Studio Crowd
BY LARRY WOLTERS.
When television comes the Fred Allen show ought to be even more fun for listeners. A good show aurally, it is still better visually. It is funny from the moment you enter the big 1,200 seat studio until Fred has finished off with the last autograph seeker.
Before the show qoes on early arrivers get laughs out of watching the page boys struggling to keep the reserved seats unoccupied. A little section is kept open tor Fred and Portland's relatives and friends and for a few others favored by NBC.
New Yorkers put up a strong fight to get into those seats. But NBC attendants, sturdy fellows, fight back. They don't manage to save all the seats they intended to. But they do succeed in keeping clear a few for Portland's mother and sister. Papa Hoffa, you remember, named his daughters tor the cities which they were born, and the final one he called Last One. She changed it to Lastone, The family pronounces it "lastun."
Portland Gives Attention.
Portland, sitting on the stage before Fred makes his appearance, definitely maintains the attitude of the most interested spectator. And throughout the performance she hangs on every word Fred utters. And her laughter appears to be the most spontaneous.
A minute or two before air time Harry Von Zell warms up the audience with a few jokes. Then he spies Fred silting below in the audience, invites him to come up and address the audience.
Fred saves his wittiest cracks tor the studio audience. Perhaps he has to. Many of them NBC's blue pencil department might otherwise scratch.
The network bosses do not like jokes about Toscanini. So Allen puts the maestro at the head of his list for joke material. “You will notice," he explained the night we saw his show, “that all the page boys are in stocking feet tonight. Toscanini opens here next Saturday and all the boys with a squeak in their shoes higher than E flat have had to turn them in to have them in to have them tuned.”
Says What He Pleases.
The sharpest blue pencil in Radio City cannot eliminate all of Allen's salty cracks because he doesn't set them down on paper. Even a continuity labeled "last revision" will not go on the air as it is written. When Fred gets to the microphone he will say what pops into his head at the moment. Or perhaps it is what he intended to say all the time.
That must have been the case the other evening when he interviewed an NBC studio guide. He asked the chap what the various colored uniforms the page boys wear signify. One type of braid indicates television guides, another the lads who conduct studio tours, and so on, the youth explained.
"And the vice presidents, I suppose, wear mess jackets,” Fred interrupted, “to indicate the state their minds are in!”
When Fred presents his weekly guests whom he calls “people you never expected to meet” they also meet a person they never expected to meet—Fred Allen. For Fred at the microphone is a different fellow than he was in rehersal. During rehersal [sic] he is meek enough but on the air he can resist being a bad boy. His kidding invariably gets him a long way from the text.
Relies on Uncle Jim.
And that is where Uncle Jim Harkins, Allen's assistant of many years, comes in. As Allen ad libs and the guest flounders hopelessly through the pages of the script wondering how they will get back into it, Uncle Jim stands beside them giving help and counsel. He puts his finger on the script at the point he deems best to reënter it. And if the guest becomes flustered Allen ad libs further to ease the situation.
Fred has his uncomfortable moments, too. An inveterate tobacco chewer, his pained expressions are believed to be due to the fact that NBC will permit him no receptacle to get relief from his cud. When there is a break in the program tor music Fred sometimes sneaks out back behind a screen. And he looks happier when he comes back.
In every broadcast there are bound to be dull moments for the studio audience. Fred does his best to brighten these.
For instance, when Von Zell interrupts the program so that station announcements may be made across the country, Allen steps to the front of the platform and informs the studio audience, "This is the point where we ask Hitler whether we can go on with the program."
A Hard Worker.
Fred probably works harder on his show than any other of radio's major comedians. With the exception of Friday, which is his day off, and on Sunday morning when he and Portland go to church, he spends the entire week working on Town Hall scripts, his associates say. The Allens seldom go out or entertain. They live in a two room apartment in a modest hotel near Radio City.

Just as columnist Wolters mentioned, television came. Fred Allen was there. He never seemed comfortable on it, even on What’s My Line? where some fans feel he did his best TV work. This was a man who had came up with clever and well-polished, satirical sketches reduced to an occasional quip as an equal amongst three other panellists. Perhaps death snatched him too early in network television’s lifetime for him to make a real mark. We’ll never know. Still, we can still enjoy some of his work on those radio shows circulating in public. The treadmill hasn’t reached oblivion yet for Fred Allen.

The Hole Gag

Tex Avery once remarked he was getting worn out directing at MGM and needed time off. Avery had some gags and situations he liked and kept reusing them, as if he were stuck coming up with new ones. The cartoons are okay but it had to difficult coming up with new ways to tell the same example.

(As a side note, it wasn’t like viewers today who can gorge on Avery cartoons all day and see the familiar gags. These appeared periodically in movie theatres).

Here’s the hole-in-the-body gag Avery put on the screen several times. This version comes from The Chump Champ, released in 1950. It’s one of several Droopy-vs-Spike spot-gag cartoons. In this sequence, the two are duelling in a sack race. Spike plants a bomb in Droopy’s sack. The two line up and Spike shouts “Go!!” Like other Avery spot-gags, this one explains itself.



The next three frames are the first, third and sixth of a head-shake take. Mike Lah animates this; the final mouth shape appeared on characters Lah drew on The Huckleberry Hound Show (1958-59).



My favourite version of this gag is in Ventiloquist Cat (released 1950) when a duck serenely flies through the hole in Spike’s body.

Rich Hogan assisted Avery with gags, and Walt Clinton and Grant Simmons animated this along with Lah.

What I Like About Fleischer Cartoons

If you’re like me, you’re a sucker for those throw-away scenes in the early Fleischer cartoons where something inanimate springs to life, does or says something weird or silly, then becomes inanimate again.

Here’s an example from Betty Boop For President. It has nothing to do with the plot. Mr. Nobody’s water pitcher grows a face. It is thirsty. It pours water from itself, grows hands, drinks the water, is satisfied, and returns to being an inanimate object.

There’s an added irony here because the pitcher is full of water already, but is thirsty.

The Fleischer cartoons are littered with bits like this and it adds to the humour.

Seymour Kneitel and Doc Crandall are the credited animators.

And The Number One Show Is...

Does anyone remember Hitz and Dawson? Walter Blaufuss? Phil Stewart?

In 1935, all of them made the top ten in their categories among radio listeners in a nation-wide survey. The number one name, the most popular star on radio, is someone you DO remember.

Jack Benny.

There were many surveys—the New York World-Telegram conducted one of radio editors in Canada and the U.S. through the 1930s—and while Benny fans likely know the Waukegan Weasel, as Fred Allen called him in jest, was at the top, they may not know who else made the list. Let us stir some old-time radio memories with this story from the Birmingham News of June 23, 1935. Though the 1940s seem to be the decade that is most familiar to OTR fans, some of the names will be recognisable, as many had long radio careers.

FOLLOWING The ANTENNA
WITH ANDREW W. SMITH
Radio Editor, The News-Age-Herald
Jack Benny, comedian of air, stage and screen, has been voted the most popular performer in radio in a nation-wide contest. Voting was conducted to determine the favorites in six divisions of radio including the leading performer, dramatic performer, musical program, orchestra, team and announcer. A total of 1,256,328 votes were cast on 209,388 ballots.
Winners, respectively, in the five latter groups were One Man Family, Show Boat, Wayne King's orchestra, Amos ‘n’ Andy and James Wallington, Both King and Amos ‘n' Andy are repeaters, having led their divisions in the 1934 contest.
The listeners voting revealed a marked new trend in audience taste. A higher level appreciation was reflected not alone in the selection of the winners but also in the choice of runners up, many of whom nearly dislodged eventual leaders.
A comparison to results of the previous contest discloses that the day of the so-called low comedian is passing and that the subtle jest is mightier than the pun and the gag of doubtful character. A similar elevation of taste in dramatic and musical presentations also was revealed.
Running a close second and third to One Man’s Family were the erudite [Lux] Radio Theater and the scholarly March of Time broadcasts, a marked difference from the last year's voting in which material of much lighter nature made the best showing.
The improved public state in programs was not revealed alone in these classifications, however. Analyzation of the final tabulations reveals some surprising new names in all divisions, particularly among the performers, where Eddie Guest was a close finisher and Will Rogers and Don Ameche, Frank Parker, tenor, and Lanny Ross, were among the 10 leaders.
One notable disclosure was the poor showing made by the much-discussed children’s programs, none of which approached a front position at any time during the 10 weeks of voting. Lighter comedy sketches also fell far back of those devoted to standard dramas and those prepared especially for the microphone.
At one stage of the voting the Jack Benny program and its stars led in the three of the six divisions, Benny himself among the performers, the broadcast as a whole among the musical programs and Jack and Mary Livingstone among the teams. Only heavy last minute voting, more than 50,000 ballots being recorded during the final week, kept this group from sweeping half the field.
Don Wilson, announcer on the Benny program, was runner-up to Wallington [photo to right] in their classification.
The following tabulations show the relative standings of the first 10 in each division.
Performer — 1, Jack Benny; 2, Lanny Ross; 3, Eddie Cantor; 4, Bing Crosby; 5, Joe Penner; 6, Fred Allen; 7, Frank Parker; 8, Will Rogers; 9, Edgar Guest; 10, Don Ameche.
Musical Program — 1, Show Boat; 2, Rudy Vallee's program; 3, Jack Benny's program; 4, Himber’s Champions; 5, Fred Waring’s program; 6, WLS Barn Dance; 7, Beauty Box Theater; 8, Town Hall Tonight; 9, Breakfast Club; 10, Pleasure Island (Lombardoland).
Dramatic Program — 1, One Man's Family; 2, Radio Theater; 3, March of Time; 4, First Nighter; 5, Dangerous Paradise; 6, Today's Children; 7, Red Davis; 8, Mary Pickford Stock Company; 9, Myrt and Marge; 10, Death Valley Days.
Orchestra — 1, Wayne King; 2, Guy Lombardo; 3, Richard Himber; 4, Ben Bernie, 5, Jan Garber; 6, Kay Kyser; 7, Don Bestor; 8, Fred Waring; 9, Rudy Vallee; 10, Walter Blaufuss.
Teams — 1, Amos ‘n’ Andy; 2, Burns and Allen; 3, Jack Benny, Mary; 4, Myrt and Marge; 5, Lum and Abner; 6, Hitz and Dawson; 7, Mary Lou and Lanny Ross; 8, Block and Sully; 9, Marion and Jim Jordan; 10, Easy Aces.
Announcers — 1, James Wallington; 2, Don Wilson; 3, Harry von Zell; 4, Ted Husing; 5, David Ross; 6, Milton J. Cross; 7, Phil Stewart; 8, Don McNeill; 9, Tiny Ruffner; 10, Jean Paul King.


And when Jack Benny and his famous troupe go on the air over NBC and WAPI Sunday, they will be observing Mary's birthday. As a special concession Jack is going to let Mary give the world premier reading of "My Birthday, a narrative poem she wrote for herself especially for the occasion. Mary expects birthday presents from everybody except Bestor. When Jack gives his wife a birthday present, he does it up in good shape. Today he will present her with just a little old 16-cylinder limousine.

We note that the World-Telegram poll conducted the same year had Jack Benny as the favourite programme, followed by Fred Allen. They were one-two in the favourite comedian category. Jimmy Wallington was still the top studio announcer, with Don Wilson fifth and former Benny announcer Alois Havrilla in seventh place.

Jack’s ratings dipped in the war years—I have my opinions about why—but the radio show snapped out of it, climbed toward the top and stayed up there until, more or less, there were few ratings to be had. Something named television came along.

A Busy Brown

Some of the top radio actors on the West Coast found uncredited regular employment on the Jack Benny show. Two that come to mind are Herb Vigran and Elvia Allman. And a couple of the top radio actors on the East Coast did the same.

When Fred Allen went off the air for health reasons at the end of the 1942-43 season, Jack “borrowed” two actors who appeared regularly in Allen’s Alley—John Brown and Minerva Pious. It is still odd to my ears hearing the Pansy Nussbaum voice given to other characters on Benny’s show (the Grape Nuts era is not my favourite period) but Brown fits in quite well. Two roles that come to mind are an enthusiastic NBC usher who sings about Grape Nuts Flakes to the Rinso White jingle, and as a clueless Vancouverite who hasn’t heard of the city’s tourist attractions.

Brown, whose Alley character was New Yorker John Doe, returned during Allen’s last season in a promotional appearance for The Life of Riley as Digger O’Dell, the Friendly Undertaker, perhaps his best-known radio role (he used the Doe and O’Dell voices in the Tex Avery cartoon Symphony in Slang).

Here’s a profile of Brown from the New York Herald Tribune of Dec. 7, 1941. Brown talks about television, which was already filling the air with civil defence programming. That would dominate the tube in New York during shortened broadcast days while the war was on.

Protean Artist Of Radio Finds Doormen Cold
John Brown, Who Performs in 7 Shows Weekly, Still Is a Stranger at Studios
By Elizabeth S. Colelough
John Brown, one of radio’s funniest straight men, is a man of parts—and that is not intended as a joke. At present, he is playing in seven regular radio shows and has a list of successes behind him as long as the evils of mankind. His schedule taken from Sunday to Sunday runs something like this:
As Shrievy, the cab driver for Dr. Watson, he maintains the comedy interest in “The Shadow,” chiller-thriller heard on WOR at 5:30 p. m. every Sunday. In “Lorenzo Jones” he enacts the role or Jim Baker at 4:30 p. m., on WEAF from Monday to Friday.
On Tuesday he contributes his services to the “Treasury Hour” over WJZ at 8 p. m. Every Wednesday, the high point of his week, he is Mr. Average Wise Guy and other comic-relief characters in the Mighty Allen Art Players on Fred Allen’s programme. He has been with Allen’s show since it sprang, like a low—comedy Minerva, from the Allen cranium in 1934.
Figured in “Feud”
Brown unwittingly has become an innocent figure in one of the chapters of the Fred Allen-Jack Benny “feud.” Benny once presented an autographed photograph to Brown on which was inscribed “How long are you going to be with Allen?” Allen constantly accuses Benny of trying to steal Brown from him. Whenever he brings his show to New York or Brown goes to the coast Benny finds a part for him. When asked why he wouldn’t take Benny’s offer he said: “I like New York. I have a house in Croton—and, besides, I don’t want to leave Fred.” That, you feel, is the real reason.
Thursdays he plays the high school principal in the “Aldrich Family” on WEAF at 5:30 p. m.
Brown ends his week with two Saturday morning shows, “Lincoln Highway” and “Vaudeville Theater,” both on WEAF.
One of the busiest and most sought-after actors in radio, he find[s] it hard to get time off for a vacation. He had his first, two weeks, last summer, and that took plenty of finagling and adjusting. He had to be written out of eight shows. One script writer forgot and put him in. That almost ended the vacation before it began.
Brown has worked as straight man or stooge for virtually every top comic on the air. Among them are Fred Allen, Jack Benny, Burns and Allen, Eddie Cantor, Jack Haley, Ed Gardner, Al Jolson, Ken Murray, Robert Benchley, Jerry Lester, Rudy Vallee, Fanny Brice and many others. On Oct. 30 he was Lord Beaverbrook’s voice on the ‘March of Time.”
Though many times a featured player, Brown has never been starred in a radio show. He is almost too versatile. He is like the department-store saleswoman who was so good in her job and brought so much money to the store that she never was promoted. However, he likes his life. In appearance he is unassuming. He says he looks less like an actor than any one he knows. Sandy-haired and quiet-mannered, he looks like hundreds of Americans you see every day in the subway and on the street. His sense of humor is keen. His blue eyes shine as he tells a joke on himself. Eddie Cantor, he said, once told him, “You look like a grocer, but you’re the best actor in radio.” Even though he has been in radio for eight years and has ridden miles in N. B. C. elevators, the page boys still ask him for tickets of admission. They won’t believe he works there.
Born In England
Brown was born in Hull, England, on April 4, 1904, began his education in London, continued it in Melbourne, Australia, and finished it in New York public schools. He now is an American citizen.
His first job was that of secretary to Frank Campbell, of the Funeral Church. He had several secretarial jobs after that, but was graduated in due course to office manager with a music-publishing firm. From there he went to real estate selling, and later became a counselor at boys’ camps. It is impossible to follow Brown’s career step by step. Before going into stock and the Broadway theater, he worked in summer resorts and various little-theater enterprises.
His personal life is happy. He is married to June White, former stage actress, and has two children—a girl, 1 1/2 years old, and a boy, 5. They live in a rambling old house overlooking the Hudson at Croton, N. Y. While he was courting the present Mrs. Brown, he sent her a telegram when she opened in the Broadway play, “Achilles Had a Heel.” It read in part, “And so has June.” She married him anyway.
Foresees Television
He feels that stage experience is valuable in radio work, but not essential. He cited the case of Ann Thomas, Goodman Ace’s pert secretary, who tried out for a part in a Broadway show lost season. She “fell into the part so easily at the first reading that the director and producer were amazed. Radio actors have to fit into parts on short notice—no six weeks’ rehearsal to smooth off the corners. He also believes they have the edge on their stage brethren because they are not typed so rigidly.
“What do you think about the average radio actor when television hits its stride?” the interviewer asked. “Any actor who doesn’t investigate or isn’t ready for it is crazy,” he said. “The change will be as revolutionary as the evolution of the silent movies into sound.
“Radio brass hats will have another problem also,” he continued. “They will have to figure out some way for the housewife to watch the shows while she cooks and cleans. The daytime show will be the biggest problem. I don’t know how they will solve it but I know television will bring an entirely new technique into the radio field.”

There is another connection with Jack Benny. Brown appeared, uncredited, in Benny’s self-trashed film The Horn Blows At Midnight in 1945. The same year, he was in Allen’s It’s in the Bag. He had a connection with Jack once-removed; he had a regular role on Dennis Day’s radio show. A list of his credits would be impossible, but I’ll mention one other. He was the lazy boyfriend Al on My Friend Irma; creator Cy Howard told a fan magazine how Brown would get miffed for pulling him away from poker games with Lud Gluskin’s musicians during rehearsals (Howard semi-joked Brown likely made more money than he did).

When television “hit its stride,” Brown was there, playing Harry Morton on the Burns and Allen show in 1951. Then, he wasn’t playing Harry Morton. Brown got caught in the blacklist. He had been named in Red Channels the previous June. Historian Liz McLeod relates:

Brown's "Red Channels" dossier, found on page 30, consists of precisely two items: he participated in three events sponsored by the Progressive Citizens of America in 1947, and he signed an Amicus Curiae brief seeking a review of the convictions of two members of the Hollywood Ten.

He appeared before a House Un-American Activities Subcommittee in November 1953. He plead the Fifth Amendment. At the time, he was appearing as Thorny on the radio version of The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet. His union, AFTRA, caved in to the witch-hunters. The following February, despite denials he was a Communist Party member, and taking the union’s loyalty oath, he was told he would be suspended if he didn’t testify before the Committee in 90 days. His career was over.

You’d never know any of this reading his obituaries in Variety or the Associated Press or United Press, or Ozzie Nelson’s autbiography. There is no mention of it. Several obits pointed out his time on the Benny and Allen shows. He died of a heart attack in 1957 at the age of 53.