Saturday, 26 October 2024

Who Would Have, I SAY! Who Would Have Thought

Cartoons are not exclusively for kids. That’s why you non-kids reading this blog enjoy good animated cartoons.

Over on the Yowp blog, we’ve written about how patrons of bars would stop everything to watch The Huckleberry Hound Show. Huck, Yogi, Jinksie and the meeces (and, in three cartoons, the lovable dog Yowp), weren’t the only animated characters attracting bar-flies.

Here’s a cute story from Florida, where a pub halted its activities so people could watch Foghorn Leghorn in relative peace.

Foggy was likely the most successful character that came out of the Bob McKimson unit. No doubt being Southern appealed to Floridians, though he wasn’t likely from that far south. In his early cartoons, he flapped his arms and gestured wildly. Once McKimson “calmed” his animators (McKimson’s preference seems to have been for subtle acting), Foghorn’s dialogue and penchant for far-fetched analogies drove the humour. That was one of the characteristics he borrowed from Kenny Delmar’s Senator Claghorn on the Fred Allen radio show, though his origins lay elsewhere. Get the facts from Keith Scott’s fine research on this.

Enough of me. Let’s get to the article from the Tampa Tribune, March 27, 1980. I admire the industry of the reporter, managing to turn his trips to the local bar (knowing news people and bars, I am certain it is “trips,” plural) in a story. One presumes the pub owner thanked him for the free publicity in an accustomed manner.

Foghorn Leghorn
Ardent Fans Crow Fowl, I Say Fowl, When Feathered Friend Fails To Appear

By TOM WUCKOVICH
Tribune Staff Writer
TEMPLE TERRACE—It usually starts promptly at 10 a.m. and continues unabated until 4 p.m.
The "it" is the exotic sound coming from Everybody's Pub, which adjoins the Tribune Northside office in Temple Terrace.
Seldom does a day go by that the pin-ball machine, with its outer space program, isn't piping sounds through the paper-thin walls and the strains of the Eagles singing "There's Gonna Be A Heartache Tonight" has the staff unconsciously tapping its feet.
But, as if by some mystical touch, the noise stops promptly at 4 p.m. and stays that way until 5 p.m. Why?
It certainly deserved looking into. So, seeing our duty, we ventured into the pub unobserved, and observed the following:
Grown men and women, of all sizes and descriptions, were huddled around the bar gazing intently at the color television set perched atop the wooden circle. What was this hearty group watching? Cartoons!
Not just any cartoons, we later found out, but "Bugs, Woody and Friends," which is aired by WTOG-TV Monday through Friday from 4 to 5 p.m.
This group is not just cartoon watchers, it's a group of cartoon addicts. And the object of their affection was, and is, none other than Foghorn Leghorn, that boisterous, I say boisterous, egotistical and repetitious rooster with the deep Southern voice.
Boy, I say boy, listen up. This group is so devoted to its fine feathered friend that when he isn't shown at least once during the program, public outcry results.
Well, WTOG committed a grievous sin not long ago when Foghorn was left out of the program for an entire week. Everybody at Everybody's was upset.
So distrubed [sic] were they that Joe Mooney, a "regular" at the bar, took matters into his own hands and penned the following letter to the TV station. It speaks for itself and Mooney, who does Foghorn as well as Foghorn, also received a reply from the beleaguered station.
Here is his letter, and WTOG's response:
"We the undersigned, have a grievance with a program of your network. To wit, 'Bugs, Woody and Friends' cartoons that are aired weekdays, Monday through Friday from 4 to 5 p.m.
"We are a group of people who watch your program religiously every afternoon at a local pub here in Temple Terrace that shall remain nameless because it is Everybody's Pub — everybody comes here — everybody drinks here — and everybody complains here about your program.
"We are such ardent fans of this show that the Management has enforced hard and strict rules while your program is viewed.
"1. The plug for the jukebox shall be pulled from the wall socket.
"2. The kitchen will be closed from 4 till 5.
"3. All beer, wine, soft drinks, chips, Slim Jims, will be served only during commercials.
"4. No quarter change made.
"5. All racks, balls, cue sticks and chalk will be placed in the men's room.
"6. The men's room will be locked.
"We are what we consider a cross section of the American viewer; therefore, we feel that we know what the Public wants to see. This could be of great value to you as a Broadcaster. However, due to the fact that kids are watching at this hour, we won't suggest showing pornography at this time of day.
"Our group consists of Butchers and Bakers — a couple of Beer Can Makers — Carpenters and Plumbers — Two Hookers (they're bummers) — Pool Sharks and Hustlers — some upstate Cow Rustlers — a Lawyer, a Surgeon — a gal who's a Virgin — some Nurses — some Teachers — and a couple of Preachers — a Pusher — A Legal Defender — Two girls that call themselves Bar-Persons. Not to mention Elleen — Ginny — Mike — Tom — Chris and Lee, Gene — Ken — Joe — Jack — Clyde and Me.
"So you see there are quite a few viewers at stake here. Now we love Bugs, Woody, Porky Pig, Felix the Cat, Tweety Bird and all the rest. What we want is, I say, is more Foghorn Leghorn. You have no idea how his fans sit patiently waiting for Foghorn Leghorn to appear on the screen.
"They chew their nails — they mumble to themselves — they ponder if they forgot to punch out when they left work or if they locked the shop — set the burglar alarm, etc. — not to mention refusing overtime just to watch the cartoon. But to no avail, no Foghorn Leghorn cartoon today, nor yesterday. In fact, it has been a week since you featured Foghorn.
"So we suggest you speak to your Program Director — Say, I say, pay attention Son, we want at least one, I say one, Foghorn Leghorn cartoon a day. Now if you don't air more Foghorn Leghorn we will plug in the jukebox. I say, we will plug in the jukebox, serve beer, play pool, open the kitchen and the men's room, and if that doesn't work, I say, if that doesn't work — we'll switch to Merv."
The letter was signed by Mooney and 19 other fans.
Channel 44 was not to be outdone. Promotion manager Barry, I say Barry Stinson, answered the letter under the name of Foghorn Leghorn himself.
"A tear, I say, a tear trickled down my beak when I read your wonderful letter. Never before have I received such glowing compliments from my legion of fans, and it gave me a warm feeling from my comb all the way down to my drumsticks.
"But, please, I say, please don't get your feathers ruffled over my infrequent appearances on Ch. 44. When I signed my contract with Warner Bros., they had no idea that I would be so popular at your watering hole. Therefore, I only made a limited number of films for them. Little did they know that I have the potential to be a superstar, like Cluck Gable or Chicken Heston. I could have been a great comedian like Rhode Island Red Skelton, Henny Youngman or Pullet Lynde.
"Also, I could have been a rock music superstar. I turned down offers to go on tour with The Eagles, Paul McCartney and Wings. A similar offer came from the Vienna Capons Choir, but it involved a delicate operation, so I passed on that, too.
"You see, I'm keeping a low profile because Colonel Sanders has put a contract out on me. I don't know why, I certainly haven't done anything to egg him into such drastic action. So I've gone underground. I'm presently operating with a tough bird named Robin Hood, and I've taken on the alias of Fryer Tuck.
"So, please don't cry ‘Fowl’ if you don't see me on Ch. 44."
Stinson also enclosed a picture of the group's hero.
Whether the gang will take this "laying" down is still in question. It's obvious the station is ripe for a "Coop d'etat."


Locking the bathroom for an hour? That’ll cause, I SAY, that’ll cause more hopping around than a mouse at a burlesque show. To paraphrase a famous rooster.

Foggy starred in 28 cartoons, beginning with Oscar nominee Walky Talky Hawky (released in 1946). He also made a cameo appearance at the end of McKimson’s Bugs Bunny cartoon False Hare (released in 1964), and in some of the segments (and the opening animation) of The Bugs Bunny Show in prime time on ABC (the CBC in Canada).

Warren Foster was McKimson’s writer when the rooster was created in what was supposed to be a supporting role in a Henery Hawk cartoon. Tedd Pierce took over for the eighth Foggy short and wrote most of the rest. Mike Maltese took a stab at two (Fox Terrier, a 1957 short, and Weasel While You Work, released the following year with Snooper and Blabber music). After Pierce left the studio, Dave Detiege and McKimson himself wrote the last two.

Foggy was still popular after the Warners studio closed in the early 1960s. McKimson animated his appearance with comedian Pat Paulsen in a live/animation combo, while the pushy pullet found employment hawking (or is that “chicken hawking”?) Kentucky Fried Chicken with Henery and Miss Prissy, as Mel Blanc and June Foray provided the voices. And Warners thought enough of him to release a Foghorn Leghorn DVD a while back.

By the way, if TV promotion guru Stinson thought his station upset the Happy Hour crowd, it was nothing compared to when he worked at WGNX Atlanta in the mid-‘90s and it cancelled Star Trek: The Next Generation. Viewers were madder than a wet hen. Or maybe a wet Leghorn.

Friday, 25 October 2024

Catapulting to Failure

The basic premise of a Roadrunner cartoon:

1. The Coyote has some kind of contraption to catch the Roadrunner.
2. The contraption begins to backfire.
3. The Coyote looks at the audience.
4. The Coyote plummets down a cliff or is otherwise smashed.

But there were times when you knew what was going to happen to Wile E. You just didn’t know how. And that made those cartoons worth watching.

One great example is a cartoon released near the end of the Warners studio, based on a Mike Maltese gag in the 1957 Roadrunner/Coyote cartoon Zoom and Bored. Chuck Jones and co-writer John Dunn came up with the idea of Wile E. setting up a catapult with a boulder designed to smash the Roadrunner in To Beep or Not to Beep (1963). The difference from the earlier cartoon is they try all kinds of variations on the idea. You know the boulder’s going to land on the Coyote, but because Jones and Dunn use more than one gag, you don’t know exactly how the situation is going to play out.

After five failures, the Coyote goes through a long sequence that starts with the rope that’s supposed to set off the catapult falling off. Wile E. is overly cautious while testing it to make sure he doesn’t get smashed with the rock, but then throws away caution as he investigates why the catapult didn’t work.



More Jones poses as it takes some time for the Coyote to realise what’s happening.



There it goes.



Note the animation shortcut. Jones has the Coyote on a cel that goes behind an overlay.



After an 11-frame hold, Jones cuts to Wile E., the bluff and the boulder. What happens next?



The whole sequence is excellently timed by Jones.

But it’s not over. There’s a post-script, a completely logical one. Jones trucks in on the catapult, then dissolves to a close-up. The final gag is summed up in these frames.



Dick Thompson, Bob Bransford, Tom Ray and Ken Harris are the animators, with Phil De Guard painting the backgrounds and Bill Lava supplying a decent score.

Thursday, 24 October 2024

Porky Pig is Shocked

A Jimmy Cagney bee picks on baking shop owner Porky Pig in Porky's Pastry Pirates (released Jan. 17, 1942).

The bee is capable of twisting its stinger to zap things—including Porky’s fly swatter. The swatter conducts an electric charge. Here are some of the drawings.



The cartoon isn’t exactly a laugh-fest, but Dave Monahan’s story gives the audience some satisfaction at the end as the bee gets his comeuppance. Monahan would be off for war duty belong long.

Kent Rogers supplies the bee’s voice.

Friz Freleng directed this cartoon. Gerry Chiniquy is the credited animator. Actually, the title card calls him “Gerald”. His first name was really “Germaine.” My guess is Gil Turner, Dick Bickenbach and Manny Perez were in the Freleng unit and worked on this as well.

I’d love to know if the music over the opening titles is a Stalling original.

Wednesday, 23 October 2024

Who's Funny: Skelton or the Nelsons?

In 1947, John Crosby famously wrote a column for the New York Herald Tribune syndicate gushing about a Jack Benny broadcast, asking for a copy of the script, then penned a piece saying he had read it and couldn’t figure out why he laughed at it. You can read the column in this post.

This was actually the first of a pair of columns. The next day, he wrote a similar column about Red Skelton’s show. Crosby liked Benny. He didn’t think much of Skelton.

Here’s what he said. It was published on January 7, 1947. “Pat” is his announcer Pat McGeehan (cartoon fans will know him as the bear WHO CAN’T STAND NOISE in Tex Avery’s Rock-a-Bye Bear) “Rod” is Skelton’s other announcer, Rod O’Connor. “Wonderful” is Wonderful Smith, kind of Skelton’s answer to Rochester.

RADIO IN REVIEW
By JOHN CROSBY
Mr. Skelton Entertains
Yesterday, I expressed mild surprise at the fact that a very funny broadcast by Jack Benny emanated a from script that didn't appear to have a laugh line in it. Today, to complete your education I should like you to consider a script that wasn't at all funny, either when it was broadcast or when it was read. For this purpose I have at my elbow a script from a recent broadcast by Red Skelton, a comedian whose principal qualifications for his job are enormous vitality and great self-confidence. Mr. Skelton indulges in a brand of medieval humor which, while it has never made me laugh, never fails to astonish me. His comedy seems to have no antecedents and no connection with anything in my experience. Maybe you can figure it out.
* * *
PAT: And now we open our Skelton Scrap Book of Satires to the stories on doctors and hospitals. Chapter 34, each year thousands of new students enroll in our schools. We go now to a medical college where enrollments are in progress.
O'CONNOR: Next? Your name please?
SKELTON: Oh, heck! I always flunk on that question.
O'CONNOR: You don't even know your own name. You're really dumb.
SKELTON: Do you know my name?
O'CONNOR: No.
SKELTON: I guess we're both pretty dumb.
O'CONNOR: Come on, come on what's your name?
SKELTON: J. Newton Numbskull.
O'CONNOR: What's the stand for—Jerk?
SKELTON: That's right.
O'CONNOR: Have you prepared at a recognized college or university for your medical course?
SKELTON: Yup, at barber's college they said I'd make a terrific surgeon.
O'CONNOR: Is your family sending you thru med school?
SKELTON: Nope, they're against it. My mother had an awful experience in a hospital . . . me!
* * *
PAT: Chapter 35—The Ambulance driver.
(Phone rings).
WONDERFUL: Mr. Lump Lump, the phone is ringing.
SKELTON: Well, I didn't think a Swiss bell ringer. Sick people! I hate this place. Everybody is sick. Even the windows have panes. (Into the phone) Hello, General hospital. Private Lump Lump speaking. You want to report an accident? Okay, tattle-tale. Uh huh. Sounds serious. When did this happen? Two hours ago? Look, wise guy, call me back next week, it'll take us that long to get there. Why? Because we have a new ambulance and they haven't delivered the wheels yet.
WONDERFUL: Let's go back him up now 'cause you're getting to be the slowest ambulance driver in the country.
SKELTON: What do you mean? Just what do you mean? I got a guy to the hospital so fast once they had to wait five hours for the ailment to arrive.
WONDERFUL: Yes, and I remember the time you drove so slow with an expectant mother that by time you got to the hospital the kid was old enough to vote.
SKELTON: I'll drive.
WONDERFUL: You ain't really going to drive, are you' Every time you drive we look in worse shape than the people we pick up.
SKELTON: We save time when I drive. We don't have to go so far for an accident.
WONDERFUL: Take it easy around them curves.
SKELTON: If you're scared, do what I do. Close your eyes. Every second counts. There's nothing to worry about as long as one wheel is in the ground.
WONDERFUL: Yeah, but the only one touching is the spare tire.
SKELTON: Are you really scared?
WONDERFUL: Scared! I look like Al Jolson before he left home. You're in the downtown district. Put on the brakes.
SKELTON: Okay. Get them out of the tool box.
WONDERFUL: Where are we going?
SKELTON: That depends on what kind of life you've led. (Terrific crash.) Oh, well, one lucky break! We don't have to wait for an ambulance.
There is a great deal more of it but I think that's enough to give you the quaint quality of Skelton comedy. The places where you are expected to laugh are clearly indicated. The rest is up to you.


On the other hand, Crosby had some affection for a fairly banal radio sitcom, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet. Despite bouncing around on the radio dial in the 1940s, the series settled in during the 1950s and remained on television for 14 seasons, going off the air on September 3, 1966 after 435 episodes.

Here’s Crosby’s column from Jan. 9, 1947. No, I don’t know why the drawing accompanying the Los Angeles Daily News version of this story shows Ozzie and Harriet had a daughter.

RADIO IN REVIEW
By JOHN CROSBY
Ozzie and Harriet
A great many young married couples strain mightily to portray marital bliss on the air but very few of them succeed. One of the most successful and certainly the most convincing of these young couples is Ozzie Nelson and his wife, the former Harriet Hilliard. The word young may be out of place in their connection. The Nelsons have been married 11 years, have two children, and appear to take matrimony more or less for granted. Possibly just force of habit gives their program an easy-going air, missing in most of the other of these connubial affairs.
Mr. Nelson, it will be recalled, was once a bandleader and pretty good one. Miss Hilliard was his vocalist. They were married in 1935 and, after Miss Hilliard had a brief fling in the movies, settled down in radio. The couple put in a long period of apprenticeship with Joe Penner and Red Skelton before they got their own program (“Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet CBS, 6 p. m. E.S.T. Sundays) two years ago. Originally the idea was for Miss Hilliard to sing once in a while but this idea was dropped and nowadays the Nelsons merely portray married life and make it sound very fetching too.
* * *
It’s difficult to catch in print the charm of the Nelson show. Much of Harriet’s dialog consists of such admonitions as "Drink your milk, David,” and the children’s conversation runs largely toward "Golly" and “Holy Cow.” The problems that beset the Nelsons are so minute that you sometimes wonder how in the world they'll last half an hour. They do though, chiefly because the Nelsons devote a good deal of time coping with the small, vexing details which make up much of our lives. They have difficulty getting David off to school, Ozzie up from the sofa, getting waited on in stores, and even finding a place to park the car.
Recently the problem was helping David with a theme that had to be produced at the end of his holidays.
“How much have you got to do?” inquired his mother.
"Not much.”
"How much is not much?”
"All of it.”
"Really, David, haven’t you done any of it? I don't know where you get such habits—such bad habits.
“Oh, it’s not so bed,” says his father.
"Yes, I do," remarks Mrs. Nelson.
* * *
Ozzie, a bland, frequently feather-brained, procrastinating sort of fellow, volunteers to help his son with the theme. He dispatches himself to the public library to do some research on the costumes worn in 1847 although his wife voices the suspicion that he is headed for the movies.
"Do you think I’d sneak off to the movies Instead of doing David's research?” he inquire indignantly. “I don't like the tone of what you're saying.”
Unfortunately, on the way to the library, he runs into his old friend Thornbury, who is on his way to "The Killers” at the Rivoli. "No, no, I can’t, Thorney,” says Ozzie, resisting temptation. “I've got to go to the library.” "Why don't you do this, Ozzie? Flip a coin and then it's not your fault. It's fate.”
"I haven’t got a coin.”
"Tell you what we'll do. We’ll go to the Rivoli and buy two tickets and then we’ll have a coin."
* * *
In the end it is Mrs. Nelson who does the research and I'm happy to report David got an A. He is a big-hearted lad and cheerfully gives his father credit for an assist on the though it isn’t quite clear what his father did to deserve it.
Ozzie is the spring around which most of the program revolves. He has a nice radio personality which will remind you a little of Jimmy Stewart in the movies. The rest of the family are pretty nice, too, including the two kids who play Rickey and David. They manage, somehow to avoid that air of precocity, which is so irritating other childish radio actors.


“1847” was a commercial tie-in. The show advertised “1847 Rogers Bros” silver cutlery. Ricky and David Nelson didn’t play themselves until 1949; Henry Blair was Ricky and Tommy Bernard was David when Crosby wrote this column.

We’ve mentioned three of Crosby’s columns for the week. The other two:

Wednesday, January 8: A look at the Ginny Simms show, featuring announcer Don Wilson, and comments about the pre-Chairman-of-the-Board version of Frank Sinatra, when everyone was making jokes about how scrawny he was.
Friday, January 10: a wordy examination of radio “contact men.” Crosby takes four paragraphs before he gets to his subject. He could have easily cut them out and started with “Whenever prosperity.” The drawing to the right is, like the other two, from the Daily News of Los Angeles.

You can click on the columns to read them better.