Flipping Betty

The Fleischer studio did what it could to freshen the Betty Boop series.

In a 1938 cartoon, we get an old Fleischer concept in the title—Out of the Inkwell. Actually, Betty doesn’t come out of the inkwell. She goes into it at the end.

The short also has live action and stop motion. A janitor in Max’s office reads a conveniently-place book on hypnosis and puts Betty on a background drawing in his spell.



He causes her to flip around. There are nine drawings on a cycle.



The drawling, lazy janitor is pure Stepin Fetchit.

Tom Johnson and Otto Feuer are the credited animators.

The Rule of Three

Tex Avery sets up a scene in Ventriloquist Cat with two false starts, and then the gag.

The premise of the short is the generic Avery cat throws his voice to lure and cause harm to Spike (because, at the beginning of the cartoon, he tells us he hates dogs, as a matter of principle, I guess).

In this scene, the cat throws his voice to two store mannequins, and then a cop outside the store. Spike hears the noise, and rips off the clothes of each to find the cat.



See how Avery uses poses and expressions. Spike stops, looks and reacts as he realises his mistake. Tex could be a master of poses just as much as Chuck Jones.



My guess is the scene is by Mike Lah, judging by the angles on the characters and the conjoined eyes (which he drew in his cartoons for Hanna-Barbera). Walt Clinton and Grant Simmons also animated this 1950 release, with the story credit to Rich Hogan.

They Can't Stand Him Because...

It started out as a parody and turned out to be a gold-mine of publicity.

By 1945, radio was full of “I like name-of-product because” contests where listeners wrote, in 25 words or less, why they were so excited about something they bought at the store. It was a cliché.

Jack Benny and his writers decided to turn it around.

Jeanne Yount of the Oregon Daily Journal of Dec. 30, 1945 put it well:

Jack the Reaper
Jack Benny made one of the best buys in the business when he offered $10,000 in prizes in the recently concluded can't stand Jack Benny because" contest. In return for a sum not very large in comparison to the program's weekly package price of $25,000 he received countless free plugs on other shows, additional listeners according to Hooper's audience ratings and material for several weeks' scripts. According to Variety, the contest idea was submitted by Jack's writers in half-earnest fashion and it was the comedian himself who saw its possibilities.

Writer George Balzer gave credit to Benny for coming up with the phrase “can’t stand.”

We visited the contest in this blog post some years back. Let’s re-visit it again.

Ed Sullivan was a long-time Benny fan. He opened his column in the Daily News on December 12 with:

Lucille Ball’s entry in the “I can’t stand Jack Benny: sweepstakes gave Jack his biggest chuckle: “I can’t stand Jack benny because he beat me out in the femme role in ‘Charlie’s Aunt’ four years ago proving he’s so money-mad he’d even play a woman’s part in order to make a few cents.”

Three days earlier, Ben Gross of the same paper reported more than 30,000 entries had been received.

Newspapers, of course, mentioned the Benny show in its radio highlights column, some with mentions of the plot along with the contest. Some also put squibs about the contest in their radio column. I imagine some were provided by the network. The Burley Bulletin of Burley, Idaho provided a quote in its issue of Dec. 18. It didn’t come from an actual broadcast, that I can find.

“The boss doesn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted by all this mail,” say[s] Rochester. “I keep telling him and telling him that even though the letters say they can’t stand him it doesn’t necessarily represent their true opinions. After all, some people will do anything for money.”

While the column jokes about it, Don Trantor in the Buffalo Courier-Express of Dec. 9 had this to say:

Although Jack Benny’s new contest, wherein he offers $10,000 in Victory Bonds for the wittiest completions of the sentence, "I can't stand Jack Benny because—,” is strictly on the level and all in a spirit of fun, we’ll wager there’ll be many a note received from irate listeners telling the comedian what they actually dislike about him or his program.
We say this not of Benny as an individual, but of all radio comedians who have been on the air for a long time and reach millions of ears each week. They’re bound to displease a certain percentage of the audience and cranks thereof always jump on an opportunity like the above to vent their feelings.

Irving Fein wrote in his biography of Jack that only three anti-Semitic letters were received. Fein also noted:

One answer that judge Fred Allen did a doubletake on was: “I can’t stand Jack Benny because he helped build up Fred Allen, and him I can’t stand.”

The venerable Newsweek magazine had a little story about the contest in its Dec. 24 issue.

“I can’t stand Jack Benny because my uncle likes him and I can’t stand my uncle.”
“I can’t stand Jack Benny because with those who know Jack Benny best it’s Fred Allen two to one.”
These are samples of the 300,000-odd letters, wires, and records that have deluged the Los Angeles postoffice since Dec. 2. The reason: the latest contest in what is rapidly becoming, again, a contest-mad nation. The rules are simple an inviting as plugged on Benny’s Sunday night show (NBC, 7-7:30 p.m., EST). In 50 words or less—the usual 25-word limit was discarded as too restricting—complete the sentence: “I can’t stand Jack Benny because . . .” The prizes total $10,000 in Victory Bonds, with the funniest entry squeezing bonds worth $2,500 out of Benny—or more accurately, out of his sponsor, the American Tobacco Co.
The contest was born in the buzzing brains of Benny’s gag writers, on the hunt for giggles. But even they were surprised when Benny took such wholesale self-derision seriously and screamed: “This is sensational, let’s do it.” Proof of Benny's perspicacity is the heaviest contest mail in the history of Los Angeles, the hurried plans of other sponsors for a return to the Why-I-Like days, and a round robin of plugs for Benny from a multitude of other entertainers.
The youngest contestant so far is aged 4, the oldest 103. But: only a handful of letter writers have been seriously nasty and vitriolic.
Out of Pocket: The contest, which runs through Dec. 24, has three carefully qualified judges: Goodman Ace, for his knowledge of humor, Peter Lorre, for his mastery in handling weird jokes, and Fred Allen, for obvious reasons. Judge Allen confided to Newsweek: I am the greatest living authority on Jack Benny. I have seen him reach for his pocketbook. No other living American can make that statement. I have known Jack Benny, man and boy, for 80 years. He was born a man and matured into a boy.”
Asked what he would say, could he enter, Allen cracked: “I can’t stand Jack Benny because with his legs that look like two nasturtium stems he can hardly stand himself, and if Mr. Benny can’t stand himself, why should I try?” As for Benny, he is glowing under the abuse. The only jar to his happiness: It is costing him about $4 a day, to make up due postage.

Other people took advantage of the contest for their own publicity. To the right, you see trade unionists upset at Benny’s sponsor, American Tobacco, picketing outside NBC at Sunset and Vine.

One place the Jack Benny character nostalgically assured his audience they loved him was St. Joe. It’s not surprising, then, the St. Joseph Gazette put the contest on the front page. This is from Dec. 31.

The imaginary statue of Jack Benny that stood in the Civic Center since last summer has disappeared—all but the ears.
When the time comes for the spirit of Jack Benny to leave this weary world that he tried so hard to amuse, the man should leave something to the city treasury for all the gags he has been able to extract from two short visits to St. Joseph. It is reported that the radio comedian pays gag writers big money for ideas.
Last night the city was publicized nationally again in connection with the convulsing feature of the Benny program of the last several weeks in which he offered to divide a sizeable chunk of his wealth with those persons who would write him a letter and finish a sentence beginning: “I can't stand Jack Benny because—”
Jack and his wife, Mary Livingston, were knee deep in letters during last night broadcast and Miss Livingston remarked casually that “there are 48,000 letters from St. Joe."
“That can’t be!” protested Jack. “They love me there. They put up a granite statue to me last summer."
“Well, they're sending it to you in pieces," Mary remarked, "a piece in each letter. Listen to what this letter says: “We are sending back all of Mr. Benny's statue except the ears—we're saving them for bird baths."

We’ll leave the final word on the subject to Carroll P. Craig, Sr., the winner of the contest. Ronald Colman read the entry on the Benny show of February 3, 1946. “You know, Benita,” Colman remarked, “maybe this fellow is right. The things we find fault with in others are the same things we tolerate in ourselves.”

I can't stand Jack Benny because
He fills the air with boasts and brags
And obsolete, obnoxious gags.
The way he plays his violin
Is music's most obnoxious sin.
His cowardice alone, indeed
Is matched by his obnoxious greed.
And all the things that he portrays
Show up my own obnoxious ways.

A Friendly Ghost? Shay It Isn't so!

Remember that cartoon where Casper went up and said “hello” to someone who reacted with a take of terror and shouted “A g-g-g-GHOST!”?

Yeah, it didn’t happen often, did it?

To quote Leonard Maltin in Of Mice and Magic: “Casper was the most monotonous character to invade cartoonland since Mighty Mouse. It seemed as it every Casper cartoon followed the same story line, with only minor variations.”

However, Mr. Maltin also admits the animation on the Famous Studios cartoons was generally good and the backgrounds were often superior going into the early 1950s.

Here are some frames from a take in The Ghost of the Town (1952). You can see the anticipation, a head shake and then the extreme.



The animator keeps the take from being static by moving the eyes in every frame before they go back into the cabbie's head.

For the record, Jack Mercer’s taxi driver doesn’t say “A g-g-g-ghost!” He just says “A ghost!”

Izzy Klein is responsible for the story, and it is pretty well structured. Casper, for some reason, is in a ghost army, and kicked out by a tough-guy sergeant (Jackson Beck). Being dishonourably discharged, Casper goes to the city in search of friends, and is hailed as a hero for rescuing a baby from a burning apartment tower.

The cartoon cuts to a TV set where the news is reported by Walter Winchell, voiced by Sid Raymond.



Casper is invited to appear on (now, remember the name of this cartoon) Toast of the Town, which was the original name of The Ed Sullivan Show. Sullivan appears in some rotoscoped footage which is more stiff than the real Sullivan on camera.



Keith Scott, author of a book on cartoon voice actors, essential for any fan of old theatrical cartoons, says it actually is Sullivan doing the voice as a gag.

As for Casper, I thought Cecil Roy was the voice, but according to Graham Webb’s The Animated Film Encyclopedia, it belongs to a boy actor named Alan Shay. When he became Casper, I have no idea. Passaic News-Herald staff writer Arthur F. Lenehan met Shay at the birthday party for a child actress and reported on it on the Oct. 17, 1949 issue. Shay’s windy list doesn’t mention Casper.

“My name is Alan Shay,” said one little man with an expansive manner. “I’m Little Nick, who does those Nedick orange drink commercials you hear every day.”
“How do you do, Little Nick?” I said.
“I also have worked on the Helen Hayes Show, Calvalcade [sic] of America, and The Strange Romance of Evelyn Winters, among others. In television I’ve appeared on the Ford Theatre show, Celebrity Time, Martin Kane, Private Eye, to name a few. I’ve also done two movies and four Broadway shows. Spell my name right, will you?”

Actually, “Alan Shay” wasn’t his name. And he wasn’t the original voice of Little Nick. Dick Leone was, but because his voice changed, 11-year-old Shay replaced him in March 1949.

Shay spoke about Casper many years later, in an article in the Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel of May 23, 1995. He sounds a little more modest with age. If there is an earlier reference to Shay as Casper, I haven’t found it.

A LOCAL HAUNT
THE FRIENDLIEST GHOST YOU KNOW IS ONE OF US
By ROBERT NOLIN
Casper the Friendly Ghost is alive and well and living in Plantation.
As a stockbroker.
Sometimes he gets nostalgic for the old days, his old studio haunts, the crowds of autograph seekers. But time has diminished his fame. Now it's the granchildren who want to see the old cartoon videos, or co-workers who want to hear his signature song.
Alan Schreiber, the flesh-and-blood incarnation of 'toondom's blithe spirit, readily obliges. He strains to replicate the high, sweet notes of his ghostlier days.
"I'm Casper the Friendly Ghost, the friendliest ghost you know. I romp and play, sing and dance all day ... " Schreiber begins, then halts. "I don't remember the rest of it."
That's understandable. It was almost 50 years ago that Schreiber, then a professional child actor in New York, supplied the voice of the original Casper. In about a dozen cartoons he uttered such memorable lines as: "Hi, Mr. Frog, how are you?" or "I don't want to hurt you, I want to be your friend."
Now Casper, the specter of the past, has become cinema's spook du jour.
A high-tech, Steven Spielberg-produced film, Casper, opens on Friday across the nation. The would-be summer blockbuster recounts the origins of the roly-poly ghost and his adventures involving a little girl, hidden treasure and three grouchy ghouls: uncles Stinky, Stretch and Fatso.
The new movie reawakened memories for Schreiber that were previously just footnotes to a career in which he bore the stage name Alan Shay.
During the late '40s and early '50s, Casper cartoons based on the comic-book figure were screened before feature films, along with serials and newsreels. Schreiber, now 57, was already an accomplished child actor ("I was always cast as a crying orphan") when he answered an audition to play the baldheaded Casper. His high-timbred voice - sweet, pleasant, emotional - got him the job.
Acting since age 6, Schreiber had landed leading kid parts in four Broadway plays. The Casper role was just another gig. "All you had to do was be able to read," Schreiber said. "You'd walk into the studio, they'd hand you the script and you'd go to work."
Schreiber read only Casper's lines. Other characters' lines were read individually and edited in later. "I never really knew what the thing was about until I went to the movies," Schreiber said.
He took home a whopping $30 per cartoon. "But I never saw the money," Schreiber said. His mother, Lucille, used it to pay for his private school.
But to a 12-year-old, being noticed was better than money. "I think what I liked most was the recognition of the fans," Schreiber said.
Still, stickball and football on the streets of New York City's West Side were more appealing than possible stardom. "I never had that feeling that I was a big shot, I just felt good about what was happening to me," Schreiber said. "I didn't have a care in the world."
Then Schreiber's voice changed. At about 17, he decided to give up showbiz, go to college and get a "secure job."He followed in the footsteps of his father, Moe, and worked in finance. Now, though he's a vice president at the Smith Barney investment firm, traces of singing commercials from his days as a child actor still rattle around Schreiber's head. He can recite snatches of jingles for Cream of Wheat, Nedick's candy bars and Bosco chocolate drink.
"I get kind of nostalgic when I think about it sometimes," Schreiber said. "It was a fantastic time of my life."
Schreiber is eager to see the Casper film when it opens - he's still enough of a trouper to want to check out the competition. "I'd be curious to listen to the voice," he said.

It’s bad enough Shay never got a screen credit for his work as one of Famous’ Studio’s most popular characters, but $30 a session is scarier than any Casper cartoon. The kid was robbed.

Shay was born in Brooklyn on July 12, 1937; his father Moe Schreiber managed a food store. As best as we can tell, he’s still living in the Sun Belt.

Just to wrap up about this cartoon, Steve Muffatti and Morey Reden are the credited animators. Anton Loeb did a fine job with the backgrounds, especially the blue-ish nighttime ones.

Whoopee For Goopy?

Goopy Geer had the potential of being a big cartoon star.

Warner Bros. wanted musical cartoons made from songs it owned. One song was by Herman Hupfeld, copyrighted at the end of 1931, called “Goopy Geer: He Plays Piano and He Plays By Ear.” Here’s a song about an actual character. He was ripe for being turned into a cartoon character by the Harman-Ising studio (while pushing the song at the same time).

But Goopy doesn’t seem to have inspired the studio’s writers or director. In Goopy’s 1932 debut, there’s a scene of Goopy running around a piano. If that’s a gag, I don’t get it.

In fact, not only is Goopy not in entire sequences of his own cartoon, Hugh Harman and/or Rudy Ising didn’t even bother with all-new animation. Scenes were re-used of a gorilla waiter weaving around, a wide-mouth hippo and drunken horse from a cartoon made the previous year called Lady, Play Your Mandolin.

Goopy doesn’t even supply the main vocal for the cartoon. That’s done by a kitten in ill-fitting high heels singing “I Need Lovin’.”

Another scene has hat racks coming to life to dance. Here are the poses as they get into position. I like how the upper hat peg turns into a cigar.



The racks high-step in unison.



They tap a little bit.



And (are you chortling?) one kicks the other in the butt.



Keith Scott tells us Johnny Murray is Goopy. Friz Freleng and Ham Hamilton are the credited animators.

The other two cartoons starring Goopy don’t feature him playing a piano (by ear or otherwise). He’s a mountaineer in Moonlight For Two and a court jester in The Queen Was in the Parlor. All three Goopys were released in 1932 and were three of four consecutive Merrie Melodies. (The other cartoon, It’s Got Me Again, was nominated for an Oscar). Goopy made a cameo appearance in Bosko in Dutch (1933), then disappeared.

Well, actually, Goopy didn’t disappear altogether. In November 1932, a 15-minute show called “Goopy Geer” was heard on KMBC in Kansas City. I figured it must have featured someone playing the piano in character. After a little digging, I spotted this photo in the March 25, 1934 edition of the Kansas City Journal. The caption reads: “The man with the reclining tendencies is His Royal Laziness, Goopy Geer, whose nimble fingers and drawling voice are heard on KMBC each week day afternoon at 1:15 o’clock. Ted Malone, who announces Goopy’s program, is shown in his usual routine two seconds before program time. Goopy’s specialty is composing impromptu melodies out of four or five musical notes his listeners send in. Paul Sells, well known Kansas City pianist-accordionist-conductor, portrays the sleepy piano pounder.”

Goopy survived on KMBC into May 1936. By then, Harman and Ising had left for MGM, and the replacing studio had gone through some other lame starring characters until Tex Avery decided a little pig had possibilities and made him the solo star of The Blow Out.

Now, for your listening pleasure, a jaunty instrumental version of the song by Jimmy Grier’s orchestra.