Gene Hazelton, R.I.P.

Sorry to report the recent passing (I don't know precisely when) of the great cartoonist, Gene Hazelton, whose career stretched from Fantasia to Flintstones. Gene was born in 1919 and by his teenage years, he was a good enough cartoonist to get a job assisting Jimmy Hatlo on the popular newspaper panel, They'll Do It Every Time. In 1939, he took a low-level job at Disney and set some sort of record for working his way up to gag man and animator. He animated the goat kids and cherabims in Fantasia and a number of sequences in Pinocchio.

When a strike was called at Disney in 1941, Gene moved on to other studios, including Warner Brothers where he did the main designs for the legendary short cartoon, Coal Black and De Sebben Dwarfs, directed by Bob Clampett. He also began doing a lot of magazine gag cartoons and commercial art assignments. Here's a link to a piece by his friend, Scott Shaw!, reporting on the one comic book Gene drew.

Gene spent many years working with Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera at MGM on their Tom & Jerry cartoons and with Tex Avery on his highly-acclaimed shorts. When Gene Kelly wanted an animated sequence for his feature, Invitation to the Dance, Hazelton designed the "Sindbad the Sailor" sequence. There were also commercials and commercial jobs: The animated titles for the I Love Lucy TV show were also designed by Gene Hazelton — one of many such projects he handled for the studio.

When Hanna and Barbera started their own studio, Gene was a key artist in the establishment of its style and the development of the early H-B programs. He is often credited with the main design work of certain important characters, including Pebbles and Bamm Bamm. (It is said he based the image of Bamm Bamm on his own son.) Beginning in 1961, one of his main duties was to supervise the production of — and occasionally write or draw — the syndicated newspaper features of The Flintstones and Yogi Bear. Around 1974, he took over the writing and drawing of both strips full-time, doing them until 1988. (The distinctive inking on them was usually the work of Lee Hooper.) Following his retirement, he drew many of the Hanna-Barbera "sericels" that were sold through animation art galleries and also did some teaching, but his main interest became his golf game, which he honed until illness forced him to quit.

Gene was enormously well-respected by his peers and by many younger cartoonists who cite him as a personal and professional inspiration. I'm sure there will be more obits and tributes that will list his many other impressive credits. I'll try to link to them as they appear.

Onna White, R.I.P.

The great choreographer, Onna White, has died at age 83. She won an Oscar for her fine (and much-imitated) work in the movie, Oliver, and probably deserved them for Bye Bye Birdie, Mame, 1776 and The Music Man. She was also the choreographer of the last three of these when they first appeared on Broadway, plus she also staged the terpsichore for many other shows, including Finian's Rainbow, Half a Sixpence and Take Me Along. Her list of credits says it all, so I'll just add that I had the pleasure of meeting Ms. White on two occasions and I found her just as delightful as her choreography. Which was always pretty delightful. Here's a link to an obit.

Recommended Viewing

Hey, if you get a chance to catch this week's installment of Real Time with Bill Maher, catch this week's installment of Real Time with Bill Maher. It reruns a number of times on HBO, and it has two good interviews — one with former New York governor Mario Cuomo and another with former Pentagon adviser Richard Perle. Mr. Maher dares to ask tough questions of both and the answers — or evasions, in Perle's case — are quite interesting.

Host Roulette

Here's a silly article — silly because it's way premature — discussing who might be asked to host the Academy Awards next year. But hey, I'm in a silly mood tonight so I'll join in. The names mentioned in the article are Chris Rock, Billy Crystal, Mike Myers, Ellen DeGeneres, Robin Williams, David Letterman, Jay Leno, Steve Martin, Whoopi Goldberg, Conan O'Brien and the idea of multiple hosts.

You can start by eliminating the multiple hosts concept. It hasn't worked well in the past. I think every time they tried it, they went scurrying back to a single host the following year. Besides, the way the show has evolved the last few years, you don't need more than one host. After about the first half hour, he or she has very little to do.

Cross off Chris Rock. I liked him but he wasn't an earth-shaking success in any particular sense. He brought a certain suspense to the proceedings because there was the possibility that he'd say something outrageous. But that trick won't work again, and the folks who run the show will probably write him off due to the slightly weak performance of this year's show in urban states. (Actually, I think it's ridiculous to credit or fault the host too much for the tune-in numbers. That kind of thinking presumes that there aren't a lot of other variables that contribute to the ratings. Maybe the interest in this year's nominees was so low that the broadcast would have done much poorer with any host besides Rock. But that's not how the people who make this kind of decision think.)

Cross off Ellen DeGeneres, David Letterman, Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien because they aren't movie stars. The Oscars ought to be hosted by a movie star. Mr. Carson was the only TV personality who was a big enough celebrity to transcend that rule. True, they had Letterman host in '95 but none of those four talk show talkers, including Dave, is currently "hot" the way he was at the time. (Rumor has it that Leno's name appeared on a list of hosts under consideration around 2000 but that he heard about it and let the Academy know he was not interested.)

And you can probably cross off Whoopi Goldberg because it's been a long time since she was big in a movie, and her last hosting was not well received. And strike Robin Williams from the short list because he doesn't seem like the "host" type. He's the guy you slot as a presenter at whatever time you think the broadcast will need a jolt of energy.

That leaves Myers, who's never done it, and Crystal and Martin, who have. Everyone seems to have liked Steve Martin's stints in 2001 and 2003, and I would guess he'd be at the top of the list. Myers is a possibility, but he's really only a star when he's deep in a character, not when he's Mike Myers. Crystal is a safe choice, and I'd figure his name will be not far below Martin's on that list, though there may be a few others above or between them. One would be Tom Hanks.

He's really the perfect choice: Huge movie star. Loved by everyone. Can deliver a funny line. No, he probably wouldn't do a monologue but that would save time on a broadcast that's looking for every way to chop its running time. I'm guessing the only reason he hasn't hosted is that he's been asked and turned it down.

How about Jamie Foxx…especially if he isn't in contention for an Oscar next year? How about Ben Affleck? Does anyone think Albert Brooks wouldn't be terrific? And if the movie version of The Producers musical is a success, Nathan Lane will be a big enough movie star to be considered for Oscar host. I think he'll do it and he'll be wonderful, but that's probably some time in the future.

For now, don't believe rumors that the host has already been picked. They don't need to decide until August or September, and since things can change so rapidly in show business, you don't want to decide too much before you have to. There's still time for Regis Philbin to make a movie and walk off with the gig.

First Look

A review of the new Li'l Abner DVD, my copy of which has not arrived. Thanks to Earl Baucom, who called it to my attention.

Chico Alert!

This is for those of you who are watching the dusty reruns of The Name's the Same on GSN. The episode that ran this morning was the one from August 1, 1955 with guest star Hoagy Carmichael. I assume tomorrow's will be the August 8 episode, which had Chico Marx on it. It's not a great episode but how often do you get to see Chico?

After tomorrow night, we have one more week of The Name's the Same episodes before it's replaced by What's Going On? GSN only has four episodes of that show, which will then be replaced by Choose Up Sides, which may well be the worst game show ever televised on a network. That show runs through April 29 and it will be replaced on the GSN schedule by…I dunno. I'll let you know when I find out.

Will and Testament

Gary Sassaman reports on the Will Eisner Memorial held today in New York. Wish I could have been there.

Dale Messick, R.I.P.

Dale Messick, creator of the long-running newspaper strip Brenda Starr has died, a few days before what would have been her 99th birthday. As I mentioned here, her strip "was drawn with great energy and humor, and the writing stands up far better than many strips of its era." It is also worth noting that her career represented a triumph over the inane notion that a woman's work has, by definition, less worth than a man's. She shouldn't have had to change her signature from Dalia Messick to the more ambiguous Dale to get her work accepted but by the time most folks found out Dale was a lady, she'd proven she could do a newspaper strip as well as the above-average male. Here's a link to one of several obits that are now available on the web with more info about this remarkable lady.

Frank Miller's Sin City

I attended the premiere last week of Frank Miller's Sin City with a certain amount of trepidation…which was replaced by a lot of relief when I found myself liking it. Frank's a friend of mine, and I have occasionally gone to a premiere or early screening of a friend's movie and thought that the featured attraction was a failure of spectacular proportions. So not only did I have to sit there through a movie I might otherwise have walked out on, I had to sit there thinking, "Okay, what do I say to my friend when I run into him in the lobby?"

Obviously, it's a dilemma. You don't want to hurt a pal's feelings, especially on what is usually configured as an evening of celebration for him and everyone else involved in the enterprise. You were invited, you got in for nothing and in most cases, there's a party and loads of free food and beverage. Sometimes, you even get a little goodie bag of gifts, and you'd feel like The Ingrate of All Time to introduce negative energy into the festivities. Most screenings are also publicity events, swarming with reporters and cameras…and that's not the ideal place to say anything less complimentary than, "That's one helluva great movie you made there."

On the other hand, you don't want to lie.

I've discussed this with others who've wrestled with the problem and never found a satisfying answer except to avoid premieres. If you must go — and sometimes, you must — one solution is to say something meaningless like, "I'm going to remember this evening for a long time" or "Only you could have done it" or "I've never seen anything like it." I once almost got away with, "It was so much better than a lot of things that aren't nearly as good." Usually, folks are so eager to hear praise that they react like you'd just given them four stars, thumbs up and a couple of Oscars. Most of the time though, they aren't fooled for one second. They know the trick because they've used it when attending premieres of bad movies by their friends.

It's a problem, and it's often more than a matter of not wounding a buddy's ego. I once attended the cast-'n'-crew screening of a movie that was so dreadful, most of us knew we were present for the funeral of its maker's career. The writer-director was a very nice guy with some successes to his credit, and he'd spent years getting this movie made. If effort, passion and sacrifice were all that mattered on the screen, he'd have had Gone With the Wind. Instead, he had something a notch below The Gong Show Movie — which, it has long amused me, comes right after Gone With the Wind in Leonard Maltin's books.

Watching my friend's film that night was like watching him enter the Indianapolis 500 and drive right into a wall. And sure enough, it's now been something like fifteen years and no one has let him direct traffic, let alone another movie. It was one of the ten saddest evenings I can recall that did not involve actual death.

I really did have a good time at Sin City. When I ran into Frank after, I may not have expressed that as clearly as I should have but I was still absorbing what I'd seen and trying to isolate what I'd liked about it. I generally do not like violent movies and have been known to walk out on them. (Years ago, I was dragged to see an awful film called Flesh + Blood. About halfway through, I turned to my date and whispered, "If Jennifer Jason Leigh is raped two more times, we leave." Jennifer was and we did.) Five or six fewer amputations in Sin City would have been just fine with me and there were moments when the relentless grittiness was a bit numbing, which was perhaps the desired effect of it all. But ultimately, you have to accept or reject the movie they made, and I chose to accept it…and not just because that was easier than telling Frank, "That was…uh, an experience." I genuinely thought it was a good movie.

In a completely separate sense, I am really enjoying its success. Years ago, Jack Kirby told people — to generally deaf ears — that a good comic book was a storyboard for a great movie. "It's all there on the page," he said of many comics he did that he felt could and should be translated to the screen with little amendment. He was not talking about how someone could make a Hulk movie that would take some ideas and imagery from the comics and insert them into an adaptation that was largely the creation of others. He was talking about the movie as an extension of the comic book, involving the creators of that comic book in the process, as Frank was involved in the production of Sin City. Alas, in his lifetime, Jack got no closer to seeing that happen with his comics than that dreadful Marvel Super-Heroes show of the sixties that used his pages, not because they could be the blueprint for a quality work but because it was a real cheap way to make a cartoon. There's a lot of Kirby in certain shots in Sin City, especially in moments when some character bursts into action. But the key connection I see is that Jack always knew there was a direct bridge between creating comics and directing a motion picture…and Frank's the guy who finally got it built and open for traffic.

WGA Warfare

The battle between the east and west wings of the Writers Guild of America has gotten nastier, as such battles tend to do. For background on this, you might want to click here but maybe a quick summary will suffice. The large WGAw and the smaller WGAe are quarreling over the enforcement of some old constitutional provisions. The WGAw thinks it is owed a large sum of money for services it has provided to WGAe and that a number of WGAe members are legally obligated to join WGAw. The WGAe thinks that this is a not-so-subtle attack on their independence and probably part of a larger plan by WGAw to take over the WGAe.

There is a constitutionally mandated mediation process which should be settling this, and the rules say that mediation should be commencing next week. The WGAe has suggested delaying until July. The WGAw is arguing over some conditions before agreeing to that postponement. The WGAe accuses them of adding "last minute terms," although it would seem to be the WGAe's fault that this was all not discussed sooner. The WGAw accuses them of not being serious about mediating at all and of stalling.

For a time, the WGAe looked like the more reasonable of the two but they've begun taking divisive ads out in the industry trade papers accusing the WGAw of being divisive. The latest one, which I think owes John Kerry an author credit and royalties, accuses the WGAw of declaring war on WGAe and says, quote: "It's the WRONG war at the WRONG time, against the WRONG enemy."

Although I'm a member of the WGAw, I'm not necessarily on that side. I guess my main view is that it's a pretty sad state of affairs that two organizations that exist to settle disputes with our employers cannot even begin to settle one between themselves. There may be a good argument for a merger at some point but a strong, united labor organization is not going to quickly result from a hostile takeover.

Mystery Solved?

This morning at breakfast, I ran into veteran comedy writer Arnie Kogen, who worked for a time on The Dean Martin Show. Arnie left before they got to the roast episodes I mentioned here but I figured he'd probably know who the writer was whose initials, "GB," appeared on that script excerpt I posted. He thought it was George Bloom. Sounds right to me.

Tit for Tat

Several of you have written me to express disappointment in the recent Laurel & Hardy fest on Turner Classic Movies. Films started at odd times and some of the prints were not up to the usual TCM standards. I am told that the folks there are well aware of the problems and they're already working to rectify matters when the films are repeated in a few months.

TCM reminds me of those "repertory revival cinemas" that a lot of us used to go to in the days before home video…the ones that would show a different double feature every evening. A friend of mine who managed one explained the big problem to me. You advertise that six weeks from now, you'll be showing Casablanca and The Maltese Falcon. A day or so before, the prints arrive from the distributor and they're terrible: Scratches, faded scenes, pops on the soundtrack, missing footage, etc. And there's not a damn thing you can do about it except rehearse your apologies to irate film buffs. I asked him if he could just not deal with the suppliers who sent the bad prints but he said, "I'd have nothing to show besides home movies of my vacation in Phoenix."

The problem should be less in the era of digital video, and it is. But there are a lot of movies that have yet to be properly mastered for broadcast and home video, and I'm afraid a lot of the Laurel & Hardy movies fall into that category. If you live in England or some other Region 2 DVD country, you can buy what I'm told is a wonderful boxed set of films…and, yes, I know it's possible to get a PAL DVD player and TV monitor in this country, and I may wind up doing that. But these great movies oughta be available in this country and be watchable by all. The Hallmark company owns most of 'em and reportedly has the idea that there's not much market for these films. The way they've been putting them out in occasional DVDs made from mediocre prints makes you feel someone there is trying hard to prove that.

Despite the flaws in the TCM presentation, I've enjoyed having a quantity of Stan and Ollie on my TiVo and I played each film at least twice over the weekend. I forgot how much I just like watching Laurel and Hardy, no matter what they're doing. I don't even care that much about the slapstick in the movies. There's something so pleasant and fascinating about the way those two guys walk down the street or carry suitcases or move a piano. I'd rather have good prints and high-quality DVDs…but I just like watching them, the way you like looking at a favorite painting or listening to a favorite tune.

Another Greg Garrison Tale

The Dean Martin Show, debuted on September 16, 1965 and had its last regular broadcast on May 24, 1974, followed by almost six years of occasional specials. A run like that is no small feat, especially with a star who doesn't want to rehearse, and it can probably be attributed mainly to the ingenuity of producer-director Greg Garrison. He had a good creative team, and they kept finding ways to freshen it with new supporting players, recurring segments and good-looking women. For the last season or so of weekly shows and most of the specials, they went largely to a "roast" format. They took the money they'd been spending on musical arrangements, dancers and choreography and put it into more joke writers and guest stars. Each week, some celebrity would be the "Man [or Woman] of the Hour," and they'd trot out other celebs, some of whom even knew the honoree, to insult/praise them.

There was something rather "in-groupish" about the shows. It was like one week, you'd have Don Rickles roasting Telly Savalas and the next week, you'd have Telly Savalas roasting Don Rickles, and you'd wonder if maybe they hadn't taped both roasts at the same time and divided the cue cards up at random. Okay, so it wasn't quite so bad, but it seemed like that. There was an awful lot of cut-and-pasting done, and Garrison did a pretty decent job of shooting and editing. You almost didn't notice that in some of the roasts, especially the later ones, some of the stars who spoke weren't even there, and some weren't there for long.

My friends and I used to watch and try to figure out all the editing tricks. Sometimes, Dean would introduce a speaker — say, Bob Hope — and skillful cutting would make it hard to notice that you never saw Hope in the same shot as Dean or the guest of honor. That meant Hope was taped at another time, possibly on another stage using just a small part of Dean's set.

Or you'd see something like this: Foster Brooks would tell a joke about a fish. Then they'd cut to a shot of Dom DeLuise, seated on the dais, convulsed in laughter. Then they'd cut back to Brooks at the rostrum and he'd tell a joke about a dog. Deduction: They cut out at least one joke between Foster's fish joke and his dog joke…and the footage of Dom was of him laughing at something else altogether. (It may have just been that Garrison told him to act like someone had said something hysterically funny.)

In addition to Garrison's skills, you had the legendary Harry Crane as head writer. (I assume those are his initials up there on the script excerpt. I'm not sure who "GB" is. I thought it was Gary Belkin but he was doing The Carol Burnett Show at the time. And I think George Burditt was writing Three's Company.) Crane, who died in 1999, was a longtime jokesmith who wrote for all the biggies: Dean, Frank, Gleason, Abbott & Costello, even Laurel & Hardy. The roast format required tons of material — more than it seemed because almost everyone's speech was taped at two or three times the length and then pared down in editing. For a time, the crunch was so bad that Harry was buying jokes "under the table" from outside writers, one of whom was Yours Truly. I think I sold him around a dozen, three of which made it to air. He told me that was a good batting average.

Crane was the perfect man for the job because he wrote the way Garrison directed: Cut-and-paste. While I was visiting Harry one day, someone poked a head in and told him that Lorne Greene had dropped out as a speaker on the roast they were taping later that week. The replacement was Ted Knight. Without even interrupting the anecdote he was telling me, Harry ruffled through a pile of pages on his desk, found the Lorne Greene material and went through it, crossing out "Lorne" everywhere and writing in "Ted." The only rewriting necessary was to change one reference from Bonanza to The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

He told me he liked working for Garrison because of Garrison's deal with Dean. Dean would just show up on tape day and read whatever was on the cards. Years earlier, Harry said, he'd practically had a stroke arguing with Jackie Gleason over what was funny. (Harry had a long explanation, which I didn't necessarily accept in toto, of how everything that worked on The Honeymooners was his idea and Gleason had to be talked into it all.) He liked the fact that Greg, in turn, let the writers write what they thought was funny. He also had a great respect for the fact that Garrison could get the show done at all under a time crunch that would have crushed a lesser man.

At the time, I was probably a bit too critical of Garrison's patchwork editing, and I asked Harry if it bothered him. He pointed to a still photo that was up on the wall over his desk. It was from a recent show and it featured Dean, Johnny Carson, Bette Davis, Jack Benny, George Burns and about a dozen other celebs of that stature. "You can't get a line-up like that to come in and put on tuxedos if you're going to take all day to tape a show," Harry said. "Greg does it every week."

This Is Your Life

Next month, if you have any interest in it, you'll be able to buy a 3-DVD set of memorable episodes of This Is Your Life, a series that was broadcast regularly from 1948 to 1952 on radio, from 1952 to 1961 on TV and in various short-term revivals and specials since. Each week, the host — Ralph Edwards in most cases — would "surprise" some celebrity, and that was always the best part of the festivities. The "principal subject," as the show's staff called each week's honoree, would be lured by a friend or family member to a locale where Edwards could accost them with the news that their life would be recalled and celebrated.

In the early days when the show was live, that usually meant getting the principal subject to somewhere within a block or so of the studio from which the show was telecast, surprising them there via remote camera, then during the first commercial break, taking them over to appear on the program. There, before a live audience, their past would be summarized with family members and past associates coming on to tell anecdotes and show their love. There were joyous reunions and there were old photos. And almost as much fun as the opening surprise, there was always at least one moment when the host would adopt a solemn tone and lead us through some heart-rending personal tragedy. The obvious goal was to cause at least someone on stage — preferably, the principal subject — to shed a few tears. This was all parodied on Sid Caesar's Your Show of Shows in what may have been the funniest sketch ever done on television…

Edwards swore up and down that with one or two admitted exceptions — once, for instance, when honoring someone so old that they feared the surprise could be fatal — his crew never told the principal subject in advance. I'm sure that's true. I'm not as sure that a lot of those subjects didn't know. Arrangements had to be made through the star's agent and family, and it's hard to believe that some of them didn't check with the celebrity or tip them off to be properly groomed and ready when the "surprise" came. Heck, it's even hard to believe that some stars didn't tell their agents to call Ralph Edwards Productions and suggest an honor was in order. But if they knew, the show's staff never saw any evidence of that so they could claim it was all spontaneous. (In his recent autobiography, Carl Reiner admits knowing about it in advance when they did his life on the show.)

Only one star — Angie Dickinson — ever refused to go through with it, and that was late in the show's history, when it was done on tape. But it almost seemed to be happening on one of the most famous live broadcasts, which is included on the forthcoming set. The evening of December 1, 1954, Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy went to the Hollywood Knickerbocker Hotel, ostensibly to meet with a friend, the famed British theatrical impresario, Bernard Delfont. Mr. Delfont was in on the set-up, as were The Boys' wives and their agent-lawyer, Ben Shipman. Edwards and the live audience were in a theater about a block away, and Stan and Ollie were surprised, none too pleasantly, via a live remote camera and microphone. They were then to scurry on over to the stage during a commercial break but when it ended, they weren't there yet and Edwards was forced into one of the most awkward examples of ad-libbing and time-killing ever seen on network television.

When Stan and Ollie finally arrived, the delay was attributed to slow walking. Some say that's all it was. Others say they were furious at the whole ambush and had to be persuaded to go through with it. Either way, the two of them — Laurel, especially — were clearly undelighted with the experience. On the air, Stan said little. Afterwards, he complained that they'd been tricked into making their TV debut on an unrehearsed and unpleasant TV program. He told one author, "I was damned if I was going to put on a free show for them," though he probably received at least union scale.  (In fairness to the show, one should remember that they couldn't have done it without the participation of The Boys' friends, family and business associates, all of whom must have expected a different reaction.)

Sadly, it was the only time Laurel and Hardy appeared on television apart from the endless rerunning of their old films. Laurel suffered a stroke the following April and by the time he recovered, Hardy took ill and never got much better.

It's odd that the folks behind the This Is Your Life DVD release would pick that episode to kick off Volume 1 of what they must hope will be a long series of releases. The episode is highly available on cheap Laurel & Hardy DVDs and tapes, and it's pretty far from the show's finest hour. Here's a page with more info, including the full list of episodes included. I have the feeling that a lot of folks who buy the set will only watch the first few minutes of each installment.

Recommended Reading

Teller, partner of Penn, comes to a conclusion (with which I happen to agree) regarding the assassination of John F. Kennedy.