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by Anthony Slide
Hal Kanter is such a legendary writer of radio, television, and screen comedy that it is something of a surprise to find that his autobiography, "So Far, So Funny: My Life In Show Business" is published by McFarland (at $35.00) rather than by a major trade publisher. I suppose the reality is that just as mediocrity has replaced comedic skills in the writing of U.S. television sitcoms so is Hal Kanter no longer a familiar name to the viewing public.
The career of Hal Kanter is a fascinating one, and it is recounted here with truth and with humor, as he recalls names such as Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, Milton Berle, Danny Kaye, Frank Capra, Elvis Presley, and the creators of Amos 'n' Andy, Freeman Gosden, and Charles Correll. Milton Berle meets Carl Sandburg and has no idea who he is. Lucille Ball drank and could drive her colleagues to drink. Kanter has a wonderful way with words, and as a writer, of course, he should. Martha Raye is described as "Rowdy as a lumberjack and bawdy as a Marine." Giselle MacKenzie has "an infinite capacity for taking applause." Of Orson Welles, Kanter writes, "as an actor, director, and producer, he could be thrice arrogant." Of Norman Lear, "He and I were destined to get along like Caesar, who knew no superiors, and Pliny, who knew no equals." Kanter worked with Lear on All In The Family and has some harsh words for Rob Reiner, Sally Struthers, and Carroll O'Connor.
What is truly amazing about this man and this book is that it covers such a long period and provides such a wealth of detail. It begins with radio, with Joe Penner, Olsen and Johnson, and Jackie Coogan, covers Armed Forces Radio and the early years of television, paints a likable word portrait of Elvis Presley, and then moves on to All In The Family and Chico and The Man. It discusses the writing of the script for the first televised Academy Awards in 1953, and the problem at the AFI Life Achievement Award for Alfred Hitchcock, at which the director was unable to deliver his speech and which utilizes an earlier recorded version of the same.
McFarland's publicity for this book notes, "Hal Kanter continues to write, produce and direct in Encino, California." Never was a gentleman so under-rated. Hal Kanter writes, produces, and directs not just in Encino but in all areas of enlightened entertainment.
A major contribution to the history of early American cinema is Joseph P. Eckhardt's "The King of the Movies: Film Pioneer Siegmund Lubin" (Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 440 Forsgate Drive, Cranbury, NJ 08512, $55.00). It is something of an exaggeration to describe Lubin as "The King of the Movies," but, most certainly he was one of the major figures in early film production, with his studios in Philadelphia. "Pop" Lubin, as he was known, was America's first Jewish movie mogul, a colorful character and the token Jewish member of the Motion Picture Patents Company.
Heavily footnoted and profusely illustrated, "The King of the Movies" does Siegmund Lubin proud. Author Eckhardt points out that the pioneer was a man of some mystery, whose birth year and place of birth remains undetermined. What is known is that Lubin was a Polish Jew, who came to America, made a pair of eyeglasses for former President Ulysses S. Grant at the Louisville Exposition in 1883, operated a thriving optical business in Philadelphia in the 1890s, and shot his first film, Horse Eating Hay, in 1896. Lubin later produced in California and also built a major studio complex at Betzwood, the palatial estate of brewer John F. Betz, in 1912. Lubin's film empire collapsed in the late teens, he retired in 1916 and died in 1923.
"The King of the Movies" is scholarly, packed with good, solid research, and eminently readable. This is an academic text devoid of any words that require the reader to rush to a dictionary. I suppose there is a lack of analysis of the Lubin films, but, at the same time, I realize this is extremely difficult with so few of them extant and those that are not worthy of intense dissection. "The King of the Movies" is basically a biography of an individual, but at the same time it offers valuable insights into the early studio system and of Lubin's colleagues, including actors Arthur Johnson and Romaine Fielding, and son-in-law Ira M. Lowry.
Joseph P. Eckhardt's text confirms Lubin's importance in the history of American filmmaking and reminds us that there is still a need for basic research into the origins of the motion picture. Recommended.
Among historians of black cinema, Henry T. Sampson is the doyen. His earlier works, "Blacks in Black and White," "Blacks in Blackface," and "The Ghost Walks," are primary source books in the study of entertainment and its relationship to African Americans in the 20th Century. What I find particularly amazing is that Sampson has found the time to compile these books while working as a nuclear engineer with the Aerospace Corp. His intellectual and research abilities are quite stunning. I wonder what the outcome might have been had he spent the years devoted to working on these books contemplating a major project in the nuclear field? Sampson's latest work is equally valuable and equally unique. "That's Enough, Folks: Black Images in Animated Cartoons, 1900-1960" (Scarecrow Press, $60.00) delivers far more than its subtitle might suggest.
After a historical overview of black images in animated cartoons, Sampson provides a detailed examination of each of the black stars to be found in cartoon series: Sammy Johnsin, Bosko, Li'l Eightball, Jasper, Inki, Mammy Two-Shoes, Mandy, and Buzzy the Crow. He discusses each character in detail and then lists all of the films, with credits and reprints of contemporary reviews. If that was all this book offered, it would be more than pleasurable. But Sampson continues on, looking at all manner of black images in cartoons and dividing them into three categories: jungle stories, plantation stories, and minstrel show stories. The format is the same as before. For each title under discussion, he provides credits, reprints of contemporary reviews, and, more often than not, a lengthy synopsis. "That's Enough, Folks" concludes with an appendix, listing all cartoons including black characters, released in the United States prior to 1960. And there are a lot of them.
Sampson makes a very valid point in his preface that depicting black characters as derogatory stereotypes was a universal practice in cartoon production prior to 1960. Later, he notes that in the years 1931-1940 four percent of all animated films featured black characters. But by the 1950s, with the advent of the civil rights movement, many cartoons with black characters were considered unsuitable for airing on television. Writing of cartoons depicting black cannibals, Sampson notes that while the Production Code included warnings concerning films that might incite bigotry or hatred among peoples of differing race, neither the Production Code Administration nor the Hollywood studios believed this was relevant to the production of cartoons.
"That's Enough, Folks" is a major work of reference, important in the fields of both animation history and black American studies. It cannot be improved upon and certainly cannot be recommended enough.
The 1940s volumes of the "American Film Institute Catalog" is scheduled for imminent publication by the University of California Press. But the volumes documenting the 1950s are some years away, and, thus, Alan G. Fetrow's "Feature Films, 1950-1959: A United States Filmography" will find buyers. It lists, so I am told, some 3,078 titles. For each, the compiler provides production company, year of release, leading players, producer, director, and screenplay credits, together with a brief synopsis, running time, and information as to video/laserdisc availability. Academy Award winners and nominees are noted, along with some factual information, such as film debuts, last work, etc. Additional credit information is sometimes provided, as are character roles for some films meeting special criteria. (The inclusion of additional information gets a bit complicated, and I am not going to try and explain, for example, why one film indicates a role played by Charles Laughton and another Laughton vehicle does not.) As might be expected, a complete name index, of more than 200 pages, completes the volume.
Steve Allen has a reputation as a prolific writer of books and musical compositions. It would appear there is yet another area in which he is prodigious-and that is in the writing of forewords. As yet, Steve Allen may not be considered a worthy competitor of George Bernard Shaw, but this month there are no less than three volumes boasting forewords by America's renaissance man:
Scott MacGillivray's "Laurel & Hardy: From the Forties Forward" (Vestal Press, $19.95) takes an in-depth look at the waning years and careers of the comedians. It also examines Laurel and Hardy compilation films and offers the first detailed study of the marketing of these two fine gentlemen after their deaths. The book contains no footnote and is too entertaining to be termed scholarly, but it displays a knowledge and affection for its subject that one would be hard pressed to find in most academic texts.
And apropos of which the second book with a foreword by Steve Allen is just such a volume: "Reelpolitik: Political Ideologies in '30s and '40s Films" by Beverly Merrill Kelley, with John J. Pitney, Jr., Craig R. Smith, and Herbert E. Gooch III (Praeger, $59.95/$18.95). After the obligatory introductory explanation of "Purpose, Methodology and Background," which is enough to put any reader to sleep, the authors discuss populism in Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, elitism in The Magnificent Ambersons, fascism in Gabriel Over the White House, anti fascism in Citizen Kane, internationalism in Casablanca, isolationism in All Quite on the Western Front, communism in Our Daily Bread, and anticommunism in The Fountainhead. A lot of 'isms" there, but all of the chapters are informative and relatively readable. I suppose my main objection to a book such as this is that all the included titles have been discussed so many times in the past, and there are surely many other films from the 1930s and 1940s which have been little researched but which also are representative of various types of political ideology.
Somehow one does not immediately think of Steve Allen in reference to a volume on politics in films, but the liberal comments in his foreword are well considered and illustrative of the intelligence of the man. Allen's foreword to "Mousie Garner: The Autobiography of a Vaudeville Stooge," with Sharon E. Kissane (McFarland, $26.50) is a little more down-to-earth. Allen points out that just as there were more than four Marx Brothers, there were also more than three stooges. Mousie Garner was one of the forgotten stooges who also worked with Ted Healy. Some of Garner's jokes are a bit old and tired, but he has some interesting things to say about Healy, Milton Berle, Sid Caesar, Spike Jones, and others. Unfortunately, Mousie Garner is not a familiar name-to be honest, I have never heard of him-and much of what he writes is not really worth reading. At the same time, any published memoir of an entertainment figure is welcome, and there are snippets here that are new and will be of value to future historians of popular culture.
Before leaving Steve Allen, I have to ask if anyone else has noticed that, as he gets older, Allen is beginning to look like the fat guy on Siskel and Ebert?
The science fiction genre is represented this month by two volumes. Paul Meehan's "Saucer Movies: A UFOlogical History of the Cinema" (Scarecrow Press, $55.00) provides a narrative history of extraterrestrial visitations on film and also includes a 39-page filmography (which could have been more detailed). It's good that the author does not limit himself to the motion picture field but also discusses reported sightings and landings of flying saucers and any relevance those might have to on-screen developments. The index separately lists "Political and Military Figures and Organizations, "UFO Sightings, Events, and Subphenomena" and "Ufologists, UFO Groups and UFO Personalities," which give this book value outside of strictly film parameters. Three of the films discussed in Saucer Movies are, of course, the 1956, 1978, and 1997 versions of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. They are the subject of a new paperback, "'They're Here ...' : Invasion of the Body Snatchers, A Tribute," edited by the star of the original version, Kevin McCarthy, along with Ed Gorman (Berkley Boulevard Books, $13.00). The book contains a wealth of entertaining information, including two essays on the fiction of Jack Finney (who wrote the original novel, "The Body Snatchers"), a tribute to Stephen King, interviews with Kevin McCarthy, Dana Wynter, W. D. Richter, Robert H. Solo, Philip Kaufman, Stuart Gordon, and Abel Ferrara, an introduction by Dean Koontz, and much more.
"A Guide to Latin American, Caribbean, and U.S. Latino-Made Film and Video," edited by Karen Ranucci and Julie Feldman of the International Media Resource Exchange (Scarecrow Press, $74.50) looks at productions from an educational point-of-view. Detailed entries on each film provide information as to type, director, running time, year of release, production company, and distributor, along with a lengthy description, discussion of strengths and weaknesses, classroom use, and suggested reading matter. Films are listed alphabetically in the language of production, but there is an English language title index. No films prior to the 1980s appear to have been included, and none of the classic examples of Latin cinema. A bibliography by country and a subject index are most helpful.
The many individuals who evaluated the films included here are very sincere and obviously most concerned with political correctness. I did wonder at the inclusion of films from Brazil as my Brazilian friends point out to me they are neither Hispanic nor Latino.
Lillian Russell starred in one feature film, Wildfire, based on her earlier stage success and also in a Kinemacolor production, which still exists in part. However, she is primarily known as a vaudevillian and leading lady for Weber and Fields, whose beauty was legendary. The lady's career on stage, screen and as a champion of women's rights is well covered in Armond Fields' "Lillian Russell: A Biography of 'America's Beauty" (McFarland, $42.50). Listening to Miss Russell sing, on record, her best known song, "Come Down, My Evening Star," and seeing the portly lady on screen, it is hard to imagine her as a great star of the musical stage and as the personification of beauty. We are lucky, therefore, to have Armond Fields, who has done a masterly job in documenting all aspects of Russell's life in detailed, if not scintillating fashion. He also provides a complete performance chronology from 1877 through 1922.
Similar detail, along with a text heavy in facts, can be found in Matthew Kennedy's "Marie Dressler" (McFarland, $49.95), which pays as much attention to the performer's work on stage as it does to her screen career. Appendices list Dressler's major stage appearances plus her films from Tillie's Punctured Romance in 1915 through Christopher Bean in 1933, with the author, most helpfully, providing information as to archival preservation and video availability. As is the Lillian Russell volume, Marie Dressler is well footnoted.
We have already had one Marie Dressler biography-Betty Lee's "Marie Dressler: The Unlikeliest Star," published last year, and I am sorry that Matthew Kennedy may have a hard job in persuading potential buyers (particularly libraries) that they should fork out almost $50 for his work. In terms of readability, Betty Lee's is the better book. She writes particularly well and is able to analyze her subject's life and work with relative ease. Matthew Kennedy is a more precise writer, one concerned at all times with detail and, occasionally, perhaps, he provides too much detail. He is also more willing than was Betty Lee to discuss the potential sexual nature of the relationship between Dressler and Claire Dubrey, and also suggests an earlier lesbian relationship between Dressler and Lillian Russell. (In his biography, Armond Fields writes that Russell viewed Dressler as she might a younger sister.) For the casual reader, with only a passing interest in Marie Dressler, Betty Lee's biography is the one to buy. I only hope the serious student, scholar or researcher, who wants to know everything there is to know about Marie Dressler, has a good income and deep pockets. He or she will definitely want to buy both the Lee and the Kennedy biographies!
Also in the comedic vein is my own "Eccentrics of Comedy" (Scarecrow Press, $36.00), which contains essays on Milton Berle, El Brendel, Bobby Clark, Phyllis Diller, the Duncan Sisters, Edward Everett Horton, Alice Howell, Old Mother Riley, Franklin Pangborn, Margaret Rutherford, Colonel Lemuel Q. Stoopnagle, and Ernest Thesiger, and "The Day Buster Smiled," published by the Cottage Grove Historical Society. The latter reprints all the local newspaper reports relating to the filming of The General in Cottage Grove, Oregon, in 1926, and also provides "before and after" photographs of the various locations used in the film.
This is exactly the type of text on local film history of which we need much more. It is very simply done, relatively easy to compile, but it could not be any better than it is. I am told that Cottage Grove, with a population under 8000, is warm and friendly and still welcomes visitors. Its Historical Society welcomes potential buyers of "The Day Buster Smiled" at P.O. Box 142, Cottage Grove, OR 97424. The cost, including priority mail shipping, is $18.00, and checks should be made payable to the Cottage Grove Historical Society.
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