The Adventures of Bosko in Comics

Bosko had already left Warner Bros. when Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising, through Hugh’s brother Fred, syndicated a Bosko comic in newspapers.

They are certainly well drawn and I like the how-to-make-cartoons panel.

This is only a smattering of them. The series went into the end of October with a prolonged story about Bosko going big-game hunting in Africa and meeting with some cannibals. These are from May 6, 13, 20, 27, 30, June 4, 10 and 15, 1934.



Next Oct. 8, 9, 10, 17, 22, 24, 26, 29, 30 and 31.



And Nov. 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12 and 16.

An Appetite For Music

The Fleischer Screen Song Come Take a Trip in My Airship (1930) doesn’t start out with a trip or an airship. A piano is delivered to the apartment of a female cat. The two kiss when it arrives outside her window.

Later, during the song portion, the cat accompanies herself on the piano. A heckling mouse shows up.



The cat tries to grab the mouse, but only succeeds in collapsing the piano, with the keys flying off and the cat twirling backwards against a wall.



The mouse plays the keys like a xylophone. The cat kicks it out of the frame. Somehow, this causes the keys to fly backward, where they are swallowed by the piano.



The piano resumes its normal form and the cat resumes playing and singing.



If any cartoons need restoration, it’s the early Fleischer Talkartoons and Screen Songs. They’re full of imagination and odd gags.

Incidentally, the Motion Picture News of June 14, 1930 insists the cat is Krazy Kat. Well, the cat is female (falsetto) and wears a ribbon.

Billy Murray is heard introducing the song; another plus.

Solving the Fridge Mystery

“To clear up the mystery of whether the light stays on or goes off when you close the door of your refrigerator,” says the narrator in The House of Tomorrow (1949), “we have this model equipped with a window, so you can see just what happens to the light when you close the door.



Cut the next scene which reveals the answer. A tinkling bell accompanies the gnome as he comes in and goes out.



Jack Gosgriff and Rich Hogan worked with director Tex Avery on the spot gags, while Walt Clinton, Mike Lah and Grant Simmons provided the animation.

The World of Don Pardo

NBC radio shows featured big-time, part-of-the-programme announcers like Don Wilson, Ken Carpenter or Harry Von Zell, but at the tail end of each show, they also had an anonymous staff announcer whose only duty it was to say “This is the National Broadcasting Company.”

Despite 25-year-old, poor-quality dubs that run off-speed, sometimes you can pick out a familiar voice from those six words. The other day, listening to a Fred Allen show, it was cheering to hear someone who spent part of his career telling us what we were watching was “presented by new Stripe toothpaste with germ-killing hexachlorophine for the double protection of toothpaste plus mouthwash.” It was Don Pardo.

Pardo performed the same duties on Jack Benny’s show in the mid-‘40s, providing the NBC ident before the chimes. He moved his way upward at the network. He was the part-of-the-show announcer in 1949 on The Mindy Carson Show (“Gab with Don Pardo could stand some rewrite,” spake Variety). As a staff announcer, he read radio news and sportscasts.

There were television assignments, too, but the one that brought him his first real fame was The Price is Right. That made him so well known, a racing greyhound was named for him.

On March 30, 1964, Pardo took on a new job—announcing the Art Fleming version of Jeopardy! (and being immortalised in Weird Al Yankovic’s song of tribute to the show).

The two shows couldn’t have been different in tone. Here’s an Atlanta Journal feature story from May 27, 1961:

'Price' Audience Urged to Chatter
"It's no accident the NBC's "The Price Is Right" boasts the liveliest "live" audience in television.
"Right from the first show," explained associate producer Beth Hollinger, "we decided to break the rules by encouraging the audience to get into the act."
Until then it was standard operating procedure in television to give studio onlookers a short lecture, urging them to laugh and applaud "in the right places," but otherwise to exercise self-control.
Visitors to "The Price Is Right" hear a decidedly different pep talk. Warm-up man Don Pardo invites them to shout encouragement to the players, chatter amongst them-selves and generally make their presence in the theater known.
• • •
"The only ones who keep quiet, I've observed, are those who have been to other TV shows. They just don't believe we mean what we say. Most folks, however, get a big boot out of screaming 'freeze' and 'don't freeze,' and commenting on the prizes."
When the producers of "The Price Is Right" first decided to go against TV tradition, they knew they were taking a risk.
"NOT MANY have turned down the invitation," noted Pardo.
"There was always the chance that someone in the audience would shout something . . . er . . . embarrassing," explained Beth Hollinger. That this has never happened is a tribute to the audience. Also helpful is a ruling which keeps the age of visitors above 12.
• • •
AT FIRST, host Bill Cullen was somewhat shaken by the enthusiasm of the crowd. "I was accustomed to game shows where things were as quiet as the public library," he explained. "It took me a while to get used to the happy-go-lucky atmosphere."
Naturally, among the most excited members of the audience, are those who have a vested interest in the proceedings—husbands, wives, friends and relatives of contestants.
"There was a girl whose fiancee was bidding on a new convertible. I doubt if television was necessary for her screams to be heard across the country.
"When he finally won, she fainted dead away."

Contrast this with Pardo’s approach on Jeopardy!, as described in the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle of June 2, 1974.

Jeopardy: A Game Show for Smart People
By BETTY UTTERBACK
D&C Stall Writer
NEW YORK —Game shows come and go. Mostly, they go. There doesn't seem to be a direct relationship between their success and the ingenuity of the gimmick or the lavishness of their super jack-pots.
The game show for smart people, "Jeopardy," recently celebrated its tenth anniversary. NBC has shown enough confidence in the program's following to announce that the program will be moved to a 1:30 p.m. time slot July 1. It will bolster a lead-in slot to the network's afternoon block of drama shows. That helps pave the way for three new morning game shows, including a brand new gimmick — television dice.
Why some game shows last is tough to rationalize. Back in the heyday of radio, Dr I.Q. kept a nationwide audience interested with bright questions directed to "a gentleman in the balcony" or a "lady in the mezzanine" with nothing more at stake than silver dollars and a box of Milky Way candy bars.
But it didn't take television long to run the $64 question up to $64,000, and games shows began to heap on enough dream trips, jewels and fancy cars to stagger a maharaja. In contrast to such bonanzas, "Jeopardy," is low key. The gimmick is simple and nobody gets rich.
At least one reason for the program's success became obvious during a recent backstage visit —Art Fleming and his crew work hard, but they seem to have as much fun as the viewers.
It was mid-morning at the NBC studio and Fleming was relaxing. His face glowed with stage make-up, the rosy look accentuated by a hot pink sport shirt.
"I love it," he said with a beaming smile. "Even after 10 years, every day is different."
He stepped nimbly around the banks of camera cables that formed an obstacle-course on the small stage to conduct the grand tour. From the front, the game board looked about the same as it does on a home set. From the back it looked like something put together in a basement workshop, and supported by bare 2 by 4's.
When the board is cleared and new categories appear, it's all accomplished by three deft stage-hands, Fleming explained. They aren't foolproof, but he has more confidence in the manual operation than any suggestions he's heard for mechanizing the board. Fleming's podium and the contestants' desk were nearby — islands of color on a stark stage.
NBC pages herded the audience into thin places and Fleming headed back to his dressing room to change. A wizened old man in a baggy grey suit slipped out of the audience and trailed down the hall after Fleming. The man pressed a bottle-shaped paper bag into Fleming's hand.
"I found out your favorite kind," the old man chuckled. "Be sure you share it, hear?"
Fleming was gracious but he didn't linger. The program has its regulars and they come often bearing gifts.
In the control room, 12 to 15 production people were going in and out — using the break for mid-morning coffee or a chance to relax. A young woman finished a plate of bacon and eggs from the NBC commissary and announced that this was her favorite assignment. The "Jeopardy" crew work harder than any crew at NBC, she said, but they're rewarded with the most time off. That day they were taping two shows, the next day three. With luck, they were to have a week of programs finished in two days.
Down the hall was a small room with a big sign, "Jeopardy Contestants," where a half-dozen people were relaxing. They weren't the bundle of nerves you might expect them to be. They had watched a program as part of the audience and had been through a warm-up. The "rehearsal" is an actual run-through using questions from previous shows.
The only boredom was in the audience which was being lulled by piped-in country music. A plump lady from Iowa expressed relief that she was, at least, off her feet after standing in line for so long. A class of 9-year-olds from PS 92 in the Bronx filed in, gaping at the high overhead lights, tripping on the stairs.
Don Pardo, the program's announcer, tinkered with the mike and adjusted a script on the small stand near the audience and questioned the pronunciation of a contestant's name He cleared his throat and, with the flare of a circus ringmaster, he said:
“Welcome to Jeopardy — America’s number one game-show!”
It was Pardo's job to turn the bored crowd into a responsive, enthusiastic audience. He appeared to know how to do it. He hit them with the bad jokes, the folksy touch.
"I'm looking for big applause," he said in a confidential tone. "If they get the $50, come right in."
He cautioned them about the game-show no-no, calling out answers and told them that whistles and shouts aren't in keeping with the tune of the game.
It was a no-class approach but it worked. When Fleming entered, dressed in a neat grey suit and white shirt, the audience burst into applause. The contestants filed in.
"Don't applaud everything," Pardo told the audience. "Wait for the biggies."
They came through for him. Every time a contestant answered a question correctly, Pardo was on his feet frantically motioning for the audience to applaud.
Time passed quickly. During the commercial breaks, the contestants sipped water from paper cups or took a few puffs on a cigarette. Fleming came down to chat with the audience. Pardo had told them Fleming would answer their questions, but they didn't ask any. They delivered testimonials.
"A bunch of us are here from Duluth, Art," a man said. "We watch you every day at home."
In the control room, the production people were caught tip in the game—answering the questions, cheering their favorites.
"Come on. Mary," a robust man urged when his contestant hesitated.
After the final commercial break, the contestants filed out to change their clothes and come back for the "next day's" program.
Fleming relaxed and chatted with a group of prospective contestants who were watching from the front now at one side. They might not go away rich, but they were having a good time.
Which is shoot all most people ask of a game-show.

We haven’t found quotes from Fleming about Pardo, but what looks like an NBC news release had some words from Cullen. This appeared in papers starting Nov. 27, 1971.

Warm Up Man Called Best in His Business
"I think he's the best in the business," said Bill Cullen, host of NBC Television Network's "Three on a Match," in referring to the daytime series' announcer, Don Pardo.
In addition to being the on-air announcer for the program, Pardo has another chore—to warm up the audience attending the taping in NBC's Color Studio 6A in New York's RCA Building.
"Don goes out 15 minutes before I do to do the warm-up," Bill revealed. “He knows the regulars and exchanges gags with them. He whips the unruly ones into line. His function is to get the audience up for the show. By the time I come out, Don has them receptive."
Known also as an amiable ad-libber, Cullen was asked what he considered to be the major difference in the way the host and the announcer handle an audience. "We also play to the audience, but not as individuals as a Pardo will do," Bill replied.
The personable host has had the opportunity to observe Pardo doing this thing for many years. Both held NBC staff announcing positions in the 1940's and they began working together in 1956—Bill as host and Don as announcer—with the debut of the game series, "The Price Is Right." It enjoyed a network run of nine years and their association endured through the entire period.
"Three on a Match," which premiered Aug. 2, reunited the three principals of the successful series—Cullen, Pardo and Bob Stewart, who was producer of the long-running program and is producer and packager of "Three on a Match."
Although Pardo also is the announcer of NBC-TV's "Sale of the Century," he was asked to double up and do "Three on a Match." Since there was no taping conflict with the two series, he readily accepted the assignment. "Bob and I consider Don Pardo our luck charm because 'The Price Is Right' lasted so long," Cullen said.

Pardo’s on-air career was varied. He interrupted programming to read a bulletin about the shooting of John F. Kennedy. He announced an anti-Communist radio special that upset the far right anyway. And, as everyone likely knows, he spent years introducing Saturday Night Live.

Another job was the announcer on the radio sitcom The Magnificent Montague. It had all the right ingredients—a cast including Monty Woolley, Art Carney and Pert Kelton, writing by Nat Hiken and, of course, Don Pardo speaking. It never really found an audience and lasted less than a year. On the show of June 23, 1951, Pardo did all the commercials except the opening one. You can listen to most of his work on the broadcast below. We have also included the full programme. The second announcer on the Chesterfields spot should be familiar.


DON PARDO CLIP 1


DON PARDO CLIP 2


DON PARDO CLIP 3


DON PARDO CLIP 4


MAGNIFICENT MONTAGUE, JUNE 23, 1951.

Cohwumbia Wabbit

Columbia/Screen Gems did pretty obvious knock-offs of Warner Bros. characters. There’s the Columbia version of Daffy Duck (Wacky Quacky), Sylvester (Up ‘n’ Atom) and you might include Tweety (Flippy the canary cartoons).

But that isn’t what we get in Mysto Fox (1946). The fox, cast as a magician in this cartoon, needs a rabbit to pull out of a hat. The crow decides to take the job by disguising himself as a rabbit. And who better to emulate to convince the fox he’s a rabbit than Bugs Bunny.

The door opens and the barely-disguised crow is seen munching a carrot and, in his usual voice, says “Uh, whadda know, Doc?”



He takes another bite out of the carrot.



Crows aren’t known for their appetite for carrots, so after chewing, he looks around to see if he’s being watched, and spits out the carrot off-camera (to the sound of a cowbell).



Publicity stories were already circulating at this time that Mel Blanc “was allergic” to carrots and spit them out at recording sessions. That was made-up. Blanc finally confessed he didn’t like the taste of them.

Of course, Blanc isn’t heard in this cartoon. The fox and crow are portrayed by Frank Graham (who also did voice work at Warners).

Screen Gems shorts can have bizarre endings that make no sense. This one has a bizarre ending that makes sense. The fox uses magic to turn the crow into an actual rabbit, the fires at him with a cannon as he hops into the distance to end the cartoon.



The fox deserves to win once in a while and he does in this cartoon.

The story was by Sid Marcus, who left for Warner Bros. when Columbia closed and wrote for the real Bugs Bunny. Chick Otterstrom and Ben Lloyd are the credited animators for director Bob Wickersham, with the score by Eddie Kilfeather.

The short was originally released Aug. 29, 1946.

A black-and-white print is the only one circulating on the internet. Considering how it was originally made in colour and re-released several years later, you’d think someone has a 35mm Technicolor print.

A Close Nazi Shave

Cat equals Nazi in The Fifth Column Mouse, 1943 Warner Bros. cartoon directed by Friz Freleng.

Fifth columnists were traitors who supported the enemy from inside their homeland. In this cartoon, mice are persuaded by the Fifth Column Mouse that a cat invading their home won’t hurt them.

If there’s any doubt the cat is a stand-in for the Axis, even before hearing the patriotic war song “We Did It Before” by marching soldier-mice, the cat scrapes ice off a window, with the clear spot forming what suspiciously looks like Hitler’s hair. The cat doesn’t need a German accent; the “hair” and the attitude that a cat is an enemy of mice is enough. (When the cat whispers his plot to the gullible mouse, Carl Stalling plays “Ach Du Lieber Augustine” in the background).

A good portion of the short is a chase, which adds to the energy of the cartoon. A fun freeze-frame scene is when one mouse takes an electric shaver to the cat. Here are some of the frames of multiples characters.



This is another cartoon featuring a “Buy Bonds” poster in the background. And it includes the Beethoven’s Fifth notes that signify Morse Code for the letter “V” for “Victory” as the cat looks at its shaved body.

The cartoon has been Blue Ribboned, so there are no credits.

Tralfaz Sunday Theatre: Improve Your Personality

Two big stars in one small film!

Ah, not just any small film. But one made by those teenage behavioural specialists—Coronet.

The company’s best-known social guidance film is likely Dating Dos and Don’ts (1949), where Woody Woodruff, played by John Lindsay, is helped by narrator Ken Nordine on how to have a good time with Anne (pronounced “A-yann”) on a date at the high school teen carnival.

He’s not my favourite Coronet actor. That honour falls on whoever played Nick Baxter in What To Do on a Date (1951). His acting and dialogue delivery are unbelievably stiff. Yet I think he’s trying his best so you can’t fault him for that.

It turns out Lindsay and “Nick” appeared in a Coronet film together—Improve Your Personality (also 1951). You can’t miss “Nick” (unnamed in this one) as he says after a girl walks past him: “Boy, has she got personality!” Either “personality” is a euphemism (and in a Coronet film, double entendres are highly unlikely) or he can tell what someone is like just by walking past him without looking.

But changing someone’s behaviour is the purpose of these Coronet films. In this one, Woody Woodruff learns you can get what you want by kissing up to someone. Sincerity? Ah, you can fake that. Somehow, I don’t think that was the intended message of this film.

Besides the narrating Nordine, Dorothy Day reprises her role as Woody’s mom. In Dating, Woody’s first name was Alan. Here, it’s Bill. They weren’t big on continuity back then (and in a Coronet film, why bother?).

The opening of this print is the victim of a splice, but anyone who knows their Boosey and Hawkes library will recognise the opening music as “Paris Interlude” by Edward White, the same English composer whose “Puffin’ Billy” was heard on Captain Kangaroo. “Paris Interlude” is also used again and again in the Sid Davis epic The Cool Hot Rod (1953).