Horning in on a Gag

Here’s a stretch in-between drawing from the Little Roquefort cartoon, No Sleep For Percy (1955). The mouse is trying to jar himself loose after Percy the cat rolled up a car window, with Little Roquefort’s head stuck at the top.



The mouse lands on the horn. The sound is pretty weak, at least on versions of the cartoon in circulation. Maybe they didn’t want to drown out Phil Scheib’s atypical score.



The horn is evidently loud enough to wake Percy. Here are random frames of Jim Tyer’s spasmatic animation. Heads that shrink and expand (and do it several times for emphasis), expanded fuzzy fur, eyes that are different sizes, it’s all here.



Percy gets up to chase after the mouse. The cat’s butt is on the ground. Tyer gives him impossible anatomy.



This is just in case theatre audiences mistook this for Tom and Jerry.



This was the final cartoon with Little Roquefort and Percy. Connie Rasinski was the sole director for well over a year and a half and new characters, like Good Deed Daily, were being tried out. Paul Terry hadn’t sold out to CBS yet, but when that happened, Gene Deitch came in to run the creative part of the studio, and another set of new characters arrived.

Take Off, Wolf

What’s more delicious than roast wolf? Or fried woodpecker?

Walter Lantz tried to answer those questions in several cartoons in the mid-1940s, as Woody Woodpecker and the cleverly-named Wolfie Wolf tried to eat each other (the wolf name is from model sheets).

One is Who’s Cookin Who, another cartoon where a personified starvation is staring Woody in the face. The first one is Pantry Panic (1941) and, in a way, this short is a reworking of that cartoon by writer Bugs Hardaway (who gagged the earlier one), cohort Milt Schaffer and director Shamus Culhane.

Since it is now the mid-‘40s, Culhane’s pacing is quicker than the earlier short. In one gag, it takes a handful of frames to get the wolf flying out of the scene.

The first drawing below, the wolf is held while Woody and his bellows boost a fire. Then the wolf realises he is being roasted and leaps up and out of the scene. It takes Culhane six frames. The cross-eyed drawing is held for two frames (as well as the smoke, fire and bedsprings), with only Woody and the bellows moving in the second frame. The next four drawings are consecutive.



You can see the wolf’s head jerking toward the camera (great DVNR, huh?). Culhane liked doing this in his Woody cartoons, sometimes with part of the head out of the frame. You can’t see it unless you freeze-frame it, but you get the feel of it watching the animation.

Showmen’s Trade Review reported on July 7, 1945 the cartoon was being animated, while the Hollywood Reporter of November 8 said Darrell Calker was about to write the score. The cartoon was finally released June 24, 1946.

Les Kline and Grim Natwick are the credited animators, and La Verne Harding and Paul Smith were also at the studio at the time. Terry Lind provided backgrounds.

The almost-expressionless voice of Woody is provided by Hardaway. Will Wright is the voice of Wolfie, while Keith Scott has confirmed Jack Mather has a line as a grasshopper.

Here's Our Next Contestant

Game shows appeal to people for various reasons. One is viewers like to see ordinary people get something for nothing. It’s something they can identify with.

Another is the viewers like to see if they can guess the answer to a question by the host (this applies to the more intelligent of the shows).

Still another is, if TV or movie stars are involved, they enjoy seeing and laughing with the celebrities.

And another is, sometimes, there’s a quirky contestant that the viewers can’t help but like. Some are a little clueless. Others say things that come out of nowhere.

All this goes back before television, into the Golden Days of Radio. That’s where today’s story takes place.

Herald Tribune syndicate columnist John Crosby was bemused by one particular episode of a Monday through Saturday daytime game show called Give and Take. These kinds of programmes give and the contestant takes, if they’re not too much of a dullard. One contestant seems to have got things backward, among other unexpected oddities and non sequiturs that the poor emcee, who had radio and TV experience in 1947, had to roll with.

This column appeared on January 23, 1947.

RADIO IN REVIEW
By JOHN CROSBY
Mrs. Caniff Goes to Town
To the student of human nature, audience participation shows generally reveal only that a great many citizens are hopelessly greedy and totally misinformed. However, on rare occasions, the master of ceremonies will unearth a gold mine of personality and character. I'm speaking specifically of Mrs. Caniff, who appeared recently on a program called "Give And Take" (CBS network 2 p. m. Saturdays and 10 a. m. Mon.-Friday outside of New York.)
Before we get into Mrs. Caniff's unique personality, it might be well to describe "Give And Take." It’s a quiz program presided over by a good-natured gentleman named John Reed King, an ornate handle that would look better on a supreme court justice than on a master of ceremonies. As I understand it. Mr. King invites members of the audience to come up and help themselves to tablesful of loot. The only requirement is that they answer a few questions, most of which would insult the intelligence of your ten-year-old son. Was Washington’s birthplace in Massachusetts or Virginia?)
* * *
You can’t miss on this program. Mr. King, for instance, asked one contestant whether the title page of a book was on the left or right hand side of the book. The man guessed the left side. After informing him that this was the wrong answer, Mr. King asked the second contestant whether the title page of a hook was on the left or right hand side of the book. The second guy got it right. Process of elimination, you see.
Well, that’s just background. The real heroism of this story is Mrs. Caniff, whose accent suggests she lives in New York City. Mr. King asked her a question which comes up on all these giveaway programs. “Where are you from?” inquired Mr. King.
“De Far East,” said Mrs. Caniff happily.
“The Far East!” exclaimed Mr. King.
“Foist Avenoo,” explained Mrs. Caniff.
Right there, Mr. King appeared to take stock. You run into a lot of problems as emcee of an audience participation show and the worst problem of all is a participant who has more personality than you have. Mrs. Caniff was one of those problems. “Now, Mrs. Caniff, just look over those tables and tell me what you’d like to have. How about that toaster over there — chromium plated, automatic.” . . .
“I got three toasters at home,” said Mrs. Caniff benignly. “I give you one.”
Mr. King explained hopelessly that he gave away on this program; he didn’t get them. "Let’s look over some of the other things. Forget the toaster. There’s a wonderful assortrnent of.” . . .
“I’m expecting a baby,” said Mrs. Caniff.
“You’re . . . uh . . . when?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!”
“Not tomorrow,” said Mrs. Caniff briskly. “I have company coming in tomorrow.”
“Look, Mrs. Caniff, time is running short. We have come to the point in this program when” . . .
“Don’t you ask me questions?” inquired Mrs. Caniff anxiously.
“I’m trying to . . .”
“I like the bedspread.”
“Good!” shouted Mr. King. “The bedspread! Now listen carefully, Mrs. Caniff. Tell me” . . .
“And the layette. Right there—the layette.”
“You said the bedspread. No, you can’t have them both. Now listen carefully, Mrs. Caniff. Tell me what is wrong with this sentence. ‘A horse divided against itself cannot stand.’ What is wrong with that sentence?”
* * *
Silence fell on the program, as Mrs. Caniff wrestled with the problem. ‘A horse divided against itself cannot stand,” repeated Mr. King. “What is wrong with that sentence?”
“I need my glasses,” said Mrs. Caniff.
“She needs her glasses,” muttered Mr. King. “Now why on earth . . . . Well, she’s GETTING her glasses.” Again silence enveloped the program while Mrs. Caniff got her glasses and put them on. “A horse divided against” . . .
started Mr. King.
“House,” said Mrs. Caniff promptly. “House is de woid. Not horse.”
“That’s correct,” shouted Mr. King. “And here is the bedspread. No, we haven’t got a coffee-maker, Mrs. Caniff” . . .

The rest of the Crosby columns for the week:

Monday, January 20: A special series of programmes by Norman Corwin about world unity. Evidently Crosby was impressed with Corwin, as this was the second column in two weeks which mentioned the series.
Tuesday, January 21: The early days of radio advertising. Crosby plugs a book.
Wednesday, January 22: The Count of Monte Cristo is on Mutual. Crosby mentions television for a second time, though he focuses on baseball, which isn't played in January. New York had three stations at the time (plus one experimental outlet no one counted), Los Angeles had a pair, Chicago was getting by with one, as were Schenectady, Washington and Philadelphia.
Friday, January 24: Another dramatization of the news, this one on Mutual.

You can click on the stories to enlarge the copy. Cartoons are from the Daily News in Los Angeles.

No Dice, Snafu

Thanks to a little devil-esque character, Private Snafu doesn’t save any money for post-war necessities, like a suburban home, with wife and child in Pay Day, a finely crafted cartoon from the Friz Freleng unit at Warner Bros.

Every time Technical Fairy First Class shows up with a bank teller’s window so Snafu can make a deposit, some beckoning smoke tempts him away, and he spends money on souvenirs, a night in a whore house and, finally, gambling.

The smoke forms a hand with a pair of dice. Technical Fairy tries to push and pull Snafu away from the crap game. Snafu does a little dance-walk (Gerry Chiniquy?) and we see Snafu’s butt.



Now come the visual puns. Snafu rolls box cars (two sixes), then rolls a pair of ones (snake eyes).



Carl Stalling puts a drum roll on the soundtrack as Snafu shakes the dice. Just before Snafu bets it all and gets set to roll the dice, Stalling inserts that five-note “You’re a Horse’s Ass” tune.

The story (by Mike Maltese and Tedd Pierce?) is really clever. Each time Snafu wastes his money, there’s a cut to a drawing of his post-war dream where things disappear as he loses money to buy them. The animation is good, too. The Snafu cartoons have no credits.

There’s no dialogue until the end of the cartoon when a mouse living in a hole in what had been Snafu’s home answers a phone. Mel Blanc ends the cartoon by borrowing from the song “Annie Doesn’t Live Here Any More” by Johnny Burke, Joe Young and Harold Spina.

This short appeared in the Sept. 1944 edition of the Army-Navy Screen Magazine.

Never Trust a Nazi

Blitz Wolf isn’t just another Tex Avery fairy tale send-up. There’s a war on, so it’s a propaganda cartoon, too. Considering what a detestable individual Adolf Hitler was, ridiculing him was completely warranted. At the end of the short, the wolf Hitler-stand-in is blown to Hell, which, for him, is populated by Jews (doing their version of the Kitzel catchphrase from the Al Pearce radio show).



Avery, being the anti-Disney, uses Disney’s Three Little Pigs as a starting point, even utilising the voice of the Practical Pig, Pinto Colvig, to repeat his performance.

The story by Rich Hogan has a warning at the beginning—that even good people can be sucked in by the promises and talk of Fascists. The army-fatigued practical pig warns his brothers to be prepared for the invasion of the Big Bad Wolf, and pulls out a newspaper with the story.



Cut to a close-up and downward pan.



The delusional pigs don’t believe the mainstream media. It doesn’t reflect their beliefs as fact. “He won’t hurt us, ‘cause we signed a treaty with him!” They pull out the treaty. Cut to another close-up and pan, then the camera trucks in a little closer to get the signature and seal.



No sooner does this happen than the tanks start rolling in. The scene soon switches to the Blitz Wolf (Bill Thompson with a German accent) shouting to the pig inside the straw house that he’ll huff, etc. “But Adolf, that would break our treaty,” says the pig. “You’re a good guy. Why, you hate war. You wouldn’t go back on your word!” The wolf leans in and says “Are you kiddin’?” and laughs knowing he has snowballed them with his lies.



A little over a month after Pearl Harbor, The Hollywood Reporter revealed “As his first cartoon supervising chore at MGM, Fred ‘Tex’ Avery will handle ‘Blitz Wolf,’ a new animated character for the studio’s shorts” (Jan. 16, 1942). The paper announced on June 2 the cartoon was “in last stages of work” and on Aug. 19 it was “winding up production.” It wound up pretty fast as the same day, the Academy of Motion Pictures screened it at the Filmarte Theatre.

In fact, it was already in theatres, as an ad from the Portsmouth (Virginia) Herald issue of Aug. 16 shows. (Come for Bing. Stay for the Nazi).

This brings us to the oft-told tale that Fred Quimby thought Hitler might win the war and wanted the cartoon to be a little less violent. Did he really say that?

You’d think maybe the famous 1975 animation issue of Film Comment might have mentioned the quote. Or Joe Adamson in his interview with Avery in Tex Avery, King of Cartoons. Or Michael Barrier in his lengthy book Hollywood Cartoons.

It appears the story started circulating from an interview Chuck Jones did on the Mark and Brian radio show in Los Angeles in 1996 as related in the book Chuck Jones Conversations (2005, University of Mississippi Press). I quote Jones, quoting Avery, quoting Quimby.

And he [Quimby] went on, he said, “I was just looking at the storyboard of the Blitz Wolf” and he said—“you think,” this is 1944, right in the middle of the war [sic]—and he said, “Do you think you're being a little rough on Mr. Hitler? ‘Cause we don't know who's going to win the war.”

I have a hard time believing Quimby said this, even if he were joking (Quimby was not known for having a sense of humour). Hollywood—as was all of America—was awash with extreme anti-Axis patriotism. And Jones was not exactly known for a kindly attitude toward cartoon film producers (Disney, excepted).

Blitz Wolf was nominated for an Oscar. Three other war-related animated shorts were nominated, with Uncle Walt picking up the statue for Der Fuehrer’s Face. Fortunately, his face, and the rest of him, was gone in three years.

Tralfaz Sunday Theatre: Invisible Diplomats

What was Audrey Meadows doing in late 1964? Besides appearing in reruns of The Honeymooners, I mean.

Not an awful lot, it seems. So why not appear in an industrial film?

Mike Connolly’s syndicated Hollywood column of Dec. 26, 1964 led off with the news:

Audrey Meadows, Ruta Lee and Gig Young signed to star in a 60-minute, strictly-no-commercials commercial film for Bell Telephone. It’s the first time the company has signed such big names for an industrial movie. It’s also the longest ever made by the outfit. It even has a plot and I hope I’m not giving it away when I reveal that the colorfilm (using all the colors of the Princess Phones and then some) will be titled “The Girl with the Velvet-Smiled Voice.”

If that was the plan, it went through a pile of changes. Jerry Fairbanks Productions was hired to make the film, which ended up running about 20 minutes and was titled “Invisible Diplomats.” A note in the Fairbanks papers about this film reads “A script and combined picture and sound track continuity by Leo Rosencrans, Oct. 8, 1964 and May 17, 1965, 43/35 pages.”

I haven’t been able to discover when the film was shot, but I’ve found screenings of it for Bell employees as early as July 1965 in Birmingham, Alabama and Columbus, Georgia. It was still being shown to phone company workers as late as November 1974.

The “plot” Connolly refers to basically tells office PBX telephone operators to put up with incompetence and nonsense, and that your local Bell company can help.

Gig Young’s presence confused me until I discovered he and Meadows had appeared in A Touch of Mink on the big screen in 1964.

Several cast members receive no screen credit. Among the ones who do are Hal Peary, who does his laugh from Fibber McGee and Molly and The Great Gildersleeve. It is odd seeing him without a moustache. And there’s a short appearance by Bonnie Franklin, who was trying to get cast in one-shot roles on television at the time (The Man From U.N.C.L.E., Karen).

Does Art Carney make a surprise cameo at the end? You’ll have to watch.

By the mid 1960s, Fairbanks wasn’t using Ed Paul as a music director any more. He paid for cues from the Capitol Hi-Q library instead. I don’t have a copy of the music over the opening/closing credits but it’s unmistakably a Phil Green-Ken Love-Geoff Thorne cue originally from England’s EMI Photoplay series.

More Benny

We got more Jack Benny in our homes at the start of the 1954 season. And Jack wanted us to have more.

Radio was still hanging in there with a big-time line-up. On WCBS New York, Jack maintained his familiar 7 p.m. time-slot, while the rest of CBS’ programming that evening was the Hallmark Hall of Fame (6:30), Amos ‘n’ Andy (7:30), Our Miss Brooks (8:00), My Little Margie (8:30, co-starring Charlie Farrell, star of Seventh Heaven), Edgar Bergen-Charlie McCarthy (9:00).

As for television, Jack expanded his air-time. And judging by this interview with United Press, published starting Sept. 29, 1954, he wanted even more.

Benny Back on TV Sunday; Hopes For Full Hour in ‘55
By VERNON SCOTT
HOLLYWOOD, Sept. 29 (UP)—Jack Benny is the funniest of men—even when he's sick in bed and feeling sorry for himself.
The king of comedians, felled by a vicious cold, was gracious enough to keep his appointment for our interview. Propped up in bed by half-a-dozen pillows, he sniffled disconsolately, hoping some notice would be taken of the fact that his baby-blue pajamas were a perfect match for his eyes.
He proferred his hand weakly. “I’m really not in pain,” he wheezed in a voice which indicated these might well be his last words on earth.
Jack was surrounded by books, magazines, and television scripts. He riffled the pages of a script as he talked.
"I'LL BE DOING a TV show every other week," he announced, "beginning Sunday, October third. CBS, of course." He craned his neck to make certain the facts were clearly written down. Seeing this, he smiled winningly.
"I hadn't planned to do so many shows," he said. "But you know how it is with fans—well, you know." He cleared his throat. "And then there's the money," he added testily.
"My first year I did four programs, the second year I did six. Then I moved it up to nine shows in 1952. Last year I did 12." He took pains to insure the data was carefully noted.
• • •
HE COMPLAINED that the bi-weekly half-hour show would be taxing.
"I wish we had an hour. It would give us time to build up the other characters in the sketches. Next year I'll try to get an hour show." This would be in addition to his radio half hour.
Benny stared off into space letting this pronouncement sink in. It was one of his tricky silences that gets more laughs than a truckload of gags. He twitched his nose and went on.
"We're gambling with my opening show," he confided. "We're not having any big-name guest stars or wild goings-on. You'll remember we did that last year on the first show."
• • •
WE CONFESSED we did not recall last year's opener. Jack looked stricken.
"We had Marilyn Monroe as guest star," he said reproachfully." But Sunday there'll just be Don Wilson and Rochester. And me, of course," he added quickly before lapsing into another silence.
Jack looked as if he wouldn't say another word. He even picked up a magazine and flipped the pages. Then he spoke.
"And I'll have very little time for jokes." He explained this by saying he seldom cracks jokes on his show. He doesn't have to. People laugh at the character he’s built up over the years.
“Sometimes there’s not one funny line for me in the script,” he said with a hurt look. The injured expression was evidence enough why Jack Benny doesn’t have to open his mouth to keep ‘em rolling in the aisles.

Jack’s series never did go to an hour length, and you have to wonder if he was thinking out loud. The idea wasn’t practical. The 7:30 p.m. TV airtime was not his. It was purchased by American Tobacco. As it was, American Tobacco cut its investment in Benny. It dropped his radio show at the end of the season, despite a plan to cut costs in 1955 by increasing re-runs. No one else would pick it up (Bergen was moved into Benny’s slot that fall).

It would have been a strain on the writers as well. Unlike radio, Jack just couldn’t fill time with a band number. Since singer Dennis Day wasn’t around as much, the writers would have to sit there and come up with comedy. It would have been a heavy load.

Jack did get in some extra time on TV in the 1954-55 season. Reports say his appearance on the G.E. Electric Theatre put $70,000 in his vault. And he was beginning to appear on Shower of Stars as well; his tour of duty there lasted all four seasons and included the famous “40th Birthday” special.

Not going to an hour didn’t hurt him. Starting in 1956, Jack won four consecutive Emmy awards. And his series carried on until 1965.

The Scoop on Scoop Scandals

In the early 1930s, there were cartoon studios like Harman-Ising, Fleischer, Charles Mintz, Walter Lantz and others that had a regular schedule of animated shorts released by the major motion picture companies.

There were others that tried to take advantage of the popularity of sound cartoons spurred by Walt Disney, but didn’t quite make it.

One of these was Scoop Scandals.

The Film Daily of October 5, 1930 published the advertisement to the right.

The trades had a flurry of blurbs about the new studio. Variety reported on October 10th:

New Producing Firm
Louis B. Mayer’s brother, Rudolph, a production executive at Metro, and Lou Ostrow, formerly studio manager for Tiffany, have formed a company to produce pictures and will begin with a cartoon series to be called “Scoop Scandals.” Offices have been opened at 1047 Fairfax Ave., Hollywood.

The company was already in operation when this story was written. The Daily News of Los Angeles reported on the 3rd:

Joseph P. Medbury, humorist, yesterday was being sued in municipal court by the “Scoop Scandals, Ltd.,” who allege that the writer omitted to return to them a partial payment of $500 on a story refused as unsatisfactory for publication.

I suspect the paper means writer John P. Medbury, who, according to Variety about a month later, countersued.

We learn a bit more from the Nov. 26 issue of Variety.

NEW CARTOON SHORTS
Hollywood, Nov. 25
John Decker, former “Vanity Fair” and “New York World” cartoonist, has been engaged by Rudolph Mayer and Lew Ostrow to turn out a new cartoon shorts series tentatively titled, “Scoop Scandals.”
Reel will caricature international names. Release is not set but will probably be Metro.

Yes, MGM was already releasing Flip the Frog cartoons made by Ub Iwerks’ studio. Metro wasn’t above considering an additional animation series, much like RKO was putting Toby the Pup cartoons (from Mintz) on screens at the same time as the Aesop’s Fables (from Van Beuren Productions).

This raises the question: were any of these cartoons made? The answer is “yes” and one was screened before a theatre audience in Los Angeles. The Hollywood Reporter gave its verdict in the December 18 edition.

Burlesque News Reel Very Funny
A new picture company has come into being called Scoop Scandals, Ltd. It is being sponsored by Rudolph Mayer and Lou Ostrow and they previewed the first of their Cartune News Reels last night. The idea for this burlesque was conceived by John Decker, of the New York World. Leonard Sachter does the photography.
The first showing of this novel short was heartily received by a large preview audience and deservedly so. There has always been a good spot for someone to come along and fill in, with a few reels of kidding, the weekly news output. The caricatures of Al Smith, Cal Coolidge and Mussolini have been very well done. The gags are good and well supported by laugh lines. They take a good crack at Congress through the medium of a Will Rogers cartoon and for fillers-in they picture an endurance flight and a bit of human interest along the lines of “romance.” The only comedy that failed to “click” was a Leon Errol episode which was decidedly weak.
Elmer Young has done a good job as head animator for these cartoons. The only fault of this news reel lies in the synchronization and at times in the talk was not so clear, which may or may not have been the fault of the recording.
No release has been arranged for this series as yet but it is rumored that there is a deal on with MGM.

Elmer Young and his brother Frank had owned a company that made silent, stop-motion films. Read more in this Cartoon Research post.

So what happened? Variety of March 25, 1931 provides the answer:

Cartoon Newsreel Too Complicated, So Folds
Hollywood, March 24.
“Scoop Scandals,” burlesque cartoon newsreel series being produced by Rudolph Mayer and Lew Ostrow for Metro, folded after the first was completed. Mechanical difficulties in production of the cartoons was responsible. Idea was originated by John Decker, cartoonist, who sold it to Mayer and Ostrow.

Does the reel still exist? I won’t speculate. We have readers more knowledgeable about this stuff than I am and rarities have surfaced from time to time since starting this blog.

Who animated this cartoon besides Young? We can thank Harvey Deneroff and his short, but valuable, interviews with cartoon artists at the Animation Guild’s Golden Banquet Awards 40 years ago, which are posted on the Cartoon Research site.

Larry Silverman began working in animation in New York in 1926. He told Harvey he worked for Paul Terry (who would have been just starting a studio with Frank Moser after being bounced from Van Beuren’s Fables operation). Then he went to the West Coast.

“I was working for a studio that was making some kind of a cartoon based on news, which wasn’t going to work, and they didn’t know it. But they closed up after a couple of weeks, too. And then Fergie [Norm Ferguson] got me a job at Disney’s.”

Silverman got screen credit on Harman-Ising’s Wake Up The Gypsy in Me (1933). You can see his name on Famous/Paramount cartoons after he returned to New York (see the internet for his studios and screen credits; I won’t list them here). He was at least partly responsible for a newspaper strip called Jungletown Fables. This one is from November 1933.


The only one person I’ve found associated with the studio is not an animator. This story from Variety of Aug. 25, 1931 seems to have been its last hurrah.

Novelty Newsreel Co. Loses $7,025 Judgment
Los Angeles, Aug. 24
Daniel F. Tattenham has been awarded $7,025 from Scoop Scandals. Ltd., for the balance of a year at $150 a week as producer of animated cartoons. Tattenham claimed wrongful discharge.
Scoop Scandals, organized last fall to make burlesque news reels for Metro, was dropped because of mechanical difficulties.

There we are. A brief story about another footnote of the Golden Age of Animation.