Mr. Mason Remembered

How many performers whose careers began before the advent of motion pictures have had their achievements lost to history? Yes, we remember a select few, but a lack of documentation, and short memories, put the kibosh on too many others.

That's no longer the case for comic actor Dan Mason (1853-1929), thanks to Joseph P. Eckhardt's latest book. The author was granted access to a rich array of photographs, scripts, and playbills, as well as Mason's  uncompleted memoir. With that framework embellished by Eckhardt's exhaustive research, the result is Dan Mason: From Vaudeville to Broadway to the Silent Screen (McFarland).

In many ways, Mason's career illustrates the sweeping changes in the entertainment industry between the late 19th and early 20th centuries. We follow along as Mason, a high school dropout, finds his comedic gifts adaptable to variety shows, vaudeville, Broadway, and finally silent movies. Fans of early motion picture comedy will enjoy reading about Mason's work in the Toonerville Trolley two-reelers of the early 1920s. Had he lived a year or two longer, he likely would have sound pictures on his resume as well.

Naturally, there are questions that cannot be fully answered, 100 to 150 years later. When complete details are elusive, Eckhardt is honest enough to say so. Nonetheless, the author gives us an impressively full-bodied portrait of Mason, the man and the performer. There were frequently stresses and challenges in his life, among them a brief early marriage, the death of his first two children before they reached adulthood, and recurring money problems. Not only was he devoted to his daughter Anna, known as Nan, but he also took a young actress, Wilna Hervey, under his wing. Decades ahead of his time, he was completely supportive when the two women became romantically involved, fully embracing them as a loving couple.

Cliched though it might seem, there's a poignancy about a performer who carefully saves yellowing newspaper clippings and memorabilia over a period of some years, clearly hoping that someone, sometime, will care. Luckily for Dan Mason, Joseph P. Eckhardt came along and understood the worth of what he found. Readers will surely do likewise.

NOTE: I was furnished with a free e-copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Two Guys Named Korman

The book is called OMG! It's Harvey Korman's Son! and that proves to be quite a fitting title for Chris Korman's memoir (with Ron Brawer), published by BearManor Media.

Young Mr. Korman, who came along around the same time as The Carol Burnett Show, was born with a learning disability that affected his speech and motor skills. He credits his father with giving him support and affection that helped him overcome the most challenging of his limitations, and build a satisfying life for himself. Though the author offers a number of behind-the-scenes anecdotes about his dad's career, the father-son relationship, over the course of some forty years, is at the heart of the story.

Much as Harvey Korman's work was lauded, he's been depicted in various books about the Burnett show as less fun off-screen, a moody man who often antagonized people. I was happy to see that this book was no Daddy Dearest; while acknowledging his father's quirks and flaws, Chris Korman also writes about him with much fondness and respect. Having originally sought a career as a dramatic actor, Harvey Korman found a niche for himself in comedy, about which he had some regrets. His son describes instances in which performers the elder Mr. Korman revered turned out to be equally big fans of his, understanding how well he did what he did.

You'll finish this book feeling that you've gotten to know the real man behind one of Hollywood's funniest players, and, as a bonus, the very likable, decent son he raised.

Andy Clyde Reels in Laughter

Most movie fans know that Columbia produced short comedy films starring the Three Stooges for more than 20 years. But how many of us are as familiar with the studio's second-longest series of short subjects, starring comedian Andy Clyde? Those films are overdue for a fresh appraisal, and author James L. Neibaur does the job beautifully with his newest book The Andy Clyde Columbia Comedies (McFarland).

Clyde was still in his thirties when his short subjects popularized his characterization of a befuddled, sometimes grouchy old man whose comedic travails included domineering wives, interfering mothers-in-law, and shiftless brothers-in-law. A gifted slapstick comedian, he could perform physical comedy that belied his old-man image.

Neibaur, who has written extensively on classic film comedy, provides a well-researched and insightful study of Clyde's work. Unlike many writers and film historians, he can pin down on paper the elusive magic of a laugh, analyzing what makes a scene or bit funny without seeming pedantic, or killing the joke. The author considers how individual writers and directors enhanced, or detracted from, Clyde's comedy. He also examines the impact of studio budget cuts on the later films, which often recycled footage and ideas from previous shorts.

Those who already appreciate Clyde's comedy will be delighted by the new information (and rare illustrations) they'll find in Neibaur's book. It's also recommended for fans of Columbia comedy in general, as there's much to learn here about how the studio and its short subjects unit operated. As for me, I knew little about Clyde's work prior to reading this book, but now I'm anxious to seek it out. And isn't that the mark of any successful film book?

NOTE: I was provided a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

New Perspective on Richard Pryor

Given the acclaim and popularity of the late Richard Pryor (1940-2005), it's not surprising that Hollywood executives eagerly gave him lucrative movie contracts for much of the 1970s and 1980s. But what a spotty track record he had as a movie star, as seen in Anthony Balducci's thoughtful book Richard Pryor in Hollywood: The Narrative Films, 1967-1997 (McFarland). For a man who could be so funny, why did his movies (excepting his concert films) often fail to capture his gifts?

Unlike most other books about Pryor, this one doesn't let his chaotic private life frame the narrative. Balducci, a film historian whose expertise in motion picture comedy extends back to the silent era, brings a valuable long-term perspective to Pryor's work. While he provides useful cultural context for the societal atmosphere reflected in such films as Wild in the Streets (1968), he also strips away much of the baggage that prevented earlier critics from successfully analyzing Pryor's film comedy on its own terms. Enriching the text are Balducci's interviews with several screenwriters who worked on Pryor films, helping us understand the changes that took place between script and screen.

This is an important work about movie comedy that merits widespread attention, and at the same time a highly readable account that will interest Pryor's many admirers.

Dana's Day

Happy birthday to writer/comedian Bill Dana, still kicking at the age of 92. Born October 5, 1924, Dana had his own TV sitcom, aptly titled The Bill Dana Show, from 1963 to 1965. In the late 80s and early 90s, fans of The Golden Girls knew him as Dorothy's goofy, lecherous Uncle Angelo.

You can read more about Dana and his career in Lost Laughs of '50s and '60s Television.

Book Review: Here He Is (By Himself!)

I was a Groucho Marx fan even before I knew much about the famous Marx Brothers as a group. That's attributable mainly to the 1970s syndicated reruns of You Bet Your Life (or, as it was retitled, The Best of Groucho), where I first appreciated the sardonic humor of the cigar-smoking Marx. So I was intrigued by the premise of Matthew Coniam's book, That's Me, Groucho! The Solo Career of Groucho Marx (McFarland, $35). As the subtitle suggests, Coniam's book gives us a new slant on Groucho's work by spotlighting the wide range of projects -- not all of them in the realm of comedy -- that he did without his illustrious brothers.

Those projects include You Bet Your Life, of course, but also a surprisingly varied lot of others: a television performance of the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta The Mikado, the stage play Time for Elizabeth (which Groucho co-wrote, with Norman Krasna), and films such as Copacabana (opposite Carmen Miranda, no less), and the groovy 1960s curiosity Skidoo, for director Otto Preminger. Often dismissed in a few sentences when other authors have written about Groucho's career, they receive full attention here, and the results are surprisingly illuminating. Also discussed is Groucho's authorship of books and magazine articles.

There have already been a lot of books about Groucho and his brothers, and I've read most of them. Take it from me: what Coniam offers here is not just a reshuffling of previously published material. He's done quite a bit of original research to inform his text, and has insightful comments to make about the career Groucho built for himself apart from his brothers. There's interesting commentary on the infamous Erin Fleming, and the live performances she managed for Marx near the end of his life.

This is Coniam's second book on matters Marxian for McFarland. I haven't read his first one -- but I think I will, now.

(No disclaimer needed today -- bought my own copy).

Joe and Martha

Comic co-stars in $1,000 a Touchdown.

Happy birthday (in memoriam) to comedian Joe E. Brown (1891-1973), born July 28. He was Martha Raye's co-star in two films, but before they even met, they were compared to one another. One similarity was immediately apparent -- both were "big mouths," finding comedy fodder in their plus-sized kissers and mobile faces. Off-screen, both would devote considerable effort to supporting America's military men and women during wartime.

In 1939, they teamed up for $1,000 a Touchdown. Produced on a modest budget, the sports-accented comedy wasn't the top-notch production they deserved, but Joe and Martha made it fun nonetheless. Five years later, they joined forces to provide comic support to Betty Grable in Pin-Up Girl.

A couple of years ago, I had a mini-film festival of Joe E. Brown comedies, inspired by my reading of film historian Wes D. Gehring's Joe E. Brown: Film Comedian and Baseball Buffoon. That book not only gave me a better appreciation of Brown's comedic skills, but also paid tribute to someone who seems to have been a fine, admirable human being off-camera.

Happy birthday, Mr. Brown. You're remembered with fondness and admiration.

It's That Time Again

For many of us, Sunday, March 13 is the day we Spring Forward into Daylight Savings Time. Hopefully you have an easier way to adjust your clocks than the one demonstrated here by the great Harold Lloyd. Enjoy your weekend!

Joan's Birthday Cake

Born on this date in 1933, Joan Rivers managed the considerable feat of keeping her career going for more than 50 years. In the 1960s, she was a frequent guest on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show and The Ed Sullivan Show, and even briefly had her own talk show. At the time of her death in 2014, she was as busy as ever, doing her level best to stay on the cutting edge of comedy -- or perhaps step a bit over that edge.

Naturally, her humor evolved over the years, as did audience standards. In 1969, Joan was asked to provide a few of her "favorite jokes" for a syndicated newspaper article. Here's a sample:

"I had no luck baking my husband Edgar a birthday cake. While it was in the oven, the candles melted."

"I was so fat as a child that whenever I played Post Office, they sent me bulk rate."

"I never realized how bad a cook I was until Betty Crocker heaved a rock through my kitchen window."

Pretty tame stuff, next to her 21st century jokes. But whether you prefer that kindler, gentler Joan, or the later one who dropped knife-edged gags about Anne Frank and various modern-day celebrities, there's no doubt that the former Joan Molinsky fought hard for her place in the show business sun. It's not likely we'll forget her soon.

Parish the Thought

If you've read half as much on motion picture and television history as I have over the years, you certainly know the name of author James Robert Parish. He's written so many fine books on show business history that it would be impractical to list them all, and if you added all the books in which other authors used and cited his research, you'd be crushed under the resulting avalanche. That's why I'm happy to see that several of his classic 1970s volumes are newly available in eBook form, as part of a series called "Encore Film Book Classics."

This includes such well-regarded volumes as The Funsters, in which Parish and his co-authors profile a slew of film comedians, The RKO Gals, which introduces you to everyone from Constance Bennett to Lupe Velez, and more. Personally, I treasure my well-worn copy of The Slapstick Queens, and hope it will be reissued as well. Kindle editions of these volumes are amazingly cheap, and well worth the price.

If you haven't yet explored Mr. Parish's books, what are you waiting for? Here's my rule of thumb: If you're browsing a book on classic movies and television, and you can't find Mr. Parish's name in the bibliography, it's probably no good anyway.

(Mostly) Silent Star

Perhaps this should be a blog entry with only pictures, no words, to honor the memory of Harpo Marx, born (with the given name Adolph) on this date in 1888. His inimitable career in comedy drew almost entirely on his ability to mine laughs from facial expressions, sight gags, pantomime, and other nonverbal expressions. What little his characters had to say was often conveyed with the toot of a horn he carried almost everywhere, although most Marx Brothers movies also made room for at least one musical number performed on the harp that gave this great comedian his stage name.

A popular comedy team on stage and in movies, the Marx Brothers began to go their separate ways professionally in the late 1940s. Though Harpo's comedy was obviously ill-suited to radio, he made occasional television appearances in the 1950s and early 1960s, notably a classic episode of I Love Lucy (above) in which he and Lucille Ball play lookalike versions of his iconic character. He also appeared on episodes of The DuPont Show of the Week, The Martha Raye Show, Candid Camera, and his brother Groucho's popular quiz show You Bet Your Life. In 1961, he proved more eloquent than his comedic characters when he published a fascinating autobiography, Harpo Speaks.

Harpo Marx died on September 28, 1964, a few weeks short of his 76th birthday. He was survived by his wife of 28 years, former actress Susan Fleming, as well as by the four children they adopted. You can learn much, much more about this gifted comedian by visiting Harpo's Place, the website created and administered by his son Bill. 

What You Don't Know About Joan Davis

Although I included a chapter on Joan Davis in The Women Who Made Television Funny, I hesitated before going forward with a full book about her. Much as I admired her work, and wanted to shed new light on her impressive career, I knew it wouldn't be easy to research her life, and add much to what information was already available. I drafted nearly half the manuscript before mentioning it to my publishers, in case I fell short of my goal.

Joan in vaudeville with husband Si Wills.

But I believe I can say with confidence that even those who already know this great comedy star, and have read everything they can about her, will learn at least a few new things from Joan Davis: America's Queen of Film, Radio and Television Comedy, now available from McFarland and via online stores such as Amazon and Barnes & Noble. (Right now, it's available in print, but an eBook version is soon to follow).

Here are a few examples of the information to be found within the book's pages:

1. Joan's real birth name (it's not "Madonna Josephine Davis," as she often told reporters during her lifetime), verified date of birth, and family background.

2. The name of the traveling act she joined as a teenager, dropping out of school to do so.

3. An account of how one of Joan's best-loved films became the subject of a plagiarism suit on behalf of another famous comedian, who not only sued for damages but tried to have all copies of Joan's movie destroyed.

4. The name of the 1960s television show that was on the verge of casting Joan's daughter Beverly Wills as a regular player, just prior to Beverly's untimely death.

5. The complete story of Joan's 1956 pilot for an ABC-TV sitcom, which nearly made it to the network schedule that fall, only a year after I Married Joan ended.

I hope that's whetted your appetite enough to consider diving into the book. It was a labor of love for me, and I'd be very pleased if it introduced at least a few new people to her unforgettable comedy.

Who's Joe Penner?

The star of The Joe Penner Show at the microphone.

In 2014, his career wouldn't amount to much more than a Trivial Pursuit question. But 80 years ago, in 1934, syndicated newspaper columnist Mark Hellinger called him "the greatest theatrical sensation to pop up in recent years," pointing out that the "overnight success" owed his newfound fame almost exclusively to the still-young medium of radio. His name? Joe Penner.

Born as József Pintér in 1904, Penner was not yet thirty years old, a veteran of vaudeville and burlesque, when his guest appearance on Rudy Vallee's radio show shot his career into high gear. Soon, he had his own weekly show, The Baker's Broadcast (later revamped into The Joe Penner Show), and was convulsing audiences with his catchphrases, "Wanna buy a duck?" and "You nasty man!" As Hellinger reported in May 1934, "A Joe Penner book is soon to be published. The Marx company, greatest of the top manufacturers, will soon place a number of Joe Penner toys on the market. The Penner radio contract for next year calls for twice this year's sum. The movies are angling with big hooks. And meanwhile -- while he's waiting -- the man is knocking out his 10 to 15 thousand dollars a week." 

Penner told Hellinger, "I don't feel any different from the way I did a year ago, except for the comfort of the money that will protect my future. I suppose I'm something of a vogue now. But we both know that it can't last forever." That statement, alas, was all too prescient. Joe Penner died of heart disease on January 10, 1941, only 36 years old but with his career already on the downslide. Thanks to a small group of loyal fans, however, he isn't completely forgotten. Visit the Wanna Buy a Duck? site for audio and video clips of his comedy, memorabilia, and a look at the brief career of this neglected comedian.

Book Review: Remembering the Perfect Fool

As a longtime aficionado of classic TV and radio, I certainly knew the name of Ed Wynn (1886-1966), but not much more than the barest outline of his lengthy career. That's been corrected now that I've read Garry Berman's Perfect Fool: The Life and Career of Ed Wynn (BearManor Media, $19.95). A slim volume at just over 200 pages, Berman's book is nonetheless a well-written, thoroughly researched account that restores Wynn to his proper place as one of the biggest funnymen of his era. 

Berman's book covers Wynn's beginnings in vaudeville, his radio stardom as Texaco's Fire Chief, and his popular Broadway revues such as Hooray for What! A clown in the classic tradition, Wynn's comedy was aimed at the masses, yet even highbrow New York critics were helpless to resist its pure fun. (For a taste of Wynn's comedy style, here's a YouTube clip).

Unlike many radio comedians, Wynn wasn't unnerved by the emerging medium of television; in fact, he was eager for it to arrive, and had been so since the early 1930s. He recognized TV's capacity to showcase his visual comedy, and undertook his first regular series, CBS' The Ed Wynn Show, in 1949, a year or so before even video pioneers such as Groucho Marx, Burns and Allen, or Jack Benny. He won an Emmy for his television efforts, and also gave a number of Hollywood stars some of their first exposure to the new medium, including Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz prior to I Love Lucy. In the mid-1950s, with his comedy style seemingly falling out of favor, Wynn took the advice of his son Keenan and launched a second career as a dramatic actor in film and television, giving impressive performances in Requiem for a Heavyweight and The Diary of Anne Frank. 

Author Garry Berman is extremely well-versed in not only show business history, but also the inner workings of radio and television in the 1930s through the 1960s, and this informs his writing throughout this fine book. You can visit the author's website at www.garryberman.com.

(No need for the usual disclaimer today - bought my own copy at full price, OK?)