When I was a child, I was a big fan of "ace reporter" Sweet Polly Purebread. As an adult, I occasionally find myself singing the "Oh, where, oh where has my Underdog gone, oh where, oh where can he be?" when I am roaming around parking lots trying to remember where I left my car.
Admittedly, it I cannot say with certainty it has ever helped me find my car; and a flying dog wearing a red union suit never showed up to guide my way, but it did pass the time until I found it.
Underdog was always my favorite hero: brave, gallant, extremely humble and well-mannered, and spoke in rhyming couplets. If he were real, I would have asked him to marry me.
When he became a balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in 1965, my world was complete. He remained my favorite part of the parade until he was retired in 1984. I still miss him.
The series Underdog ran from 1964 through 1967, and then in repeats in syndication for a few more years after that. He did not outlive my childhood, and yet, he lives on in golden memory.
Wally Cox voices Underdog, and Norma MacMillan is the career-woman, Sweet Polly Purebread. She did a number of voice roles in cartoons, some television shows, but you may also remember her from Vaughn Meader's 1962 hit comedy album parodying President John F. Kennedy and his family, The First Family, where she voiced the children, John-John and Caroline Kennedy. (The 22nd of November will invariably bring to mind other memories today.) She was also the mother of Alison Arngrim, who played Nellie on Little House on the Prairie. The above episode is a Thanksgiving-themed adventure where one of show's villains, Simon Bar Sinister (whose speech is meant to mimic Lionel Barrymore. Another villain in the series, gangster Riff Raff, is meant to parody George Raft), tries to take over the city in another evil plot, but he can't get through the Thanksgiving parade. So he invents a time travel device "a time bomb" - how clever is that -- to go back to the First Thanksgiving and cause discord between the Indians and the Pilgrims.
Of course, the Pilgrims do not sound like the Pilgrims of 1621, and their "fort" is rather grand; and the native Wampanoag people did not have teepees or sound like Jay Silverheels reading the part of Tonto onThe Lone Ranger. Still, it's a masterful plot with modern lessons of not so much brotherly love as the more practical advice of not allowing your enemy to divide you. It's a lesson for our times (and pre-dates any elaborate plot on Pinky and the Brain by decades).
When you watch the above episode, you will not be transported, like Simon and his toady, Cad, to 1621 Massachusetts; you'll be sent back only as far as the mid-1960s of my early childhood.
In Our Dancing Daughters (1928) and Our Modern Maidens (1929), Joan Crawford epitomizes the daring flapper, living only for the moment, the eternal symbol (one of many glitzy symbols) of the 1920s. We continue today with part 3 of our series on the 1920s – Then and Now. Novelist-turned-Hollywood-writer F. Scott Fitzgerald saw in Joan Crawford the essence of the flapper, as he is noted to have remarked: Joan Crawford is doubtless the best example of the flapper, the girl you see in smart night clubs, gowned to the apex of sophistication, toying iced glasses with a remote, faintly bitter expression, dancing deliciously, laughing a great deal, with wide, hurt eyes. Young things with a talent for living. He might have been describing her in these two movies. Our Dancing Daughters stars Joan as a high-octane flapper or “modern,” her name for the first time above the title. This movie and Our Modern Maidens are "modern" morality plays of sorts – Joan Crawford is not s...
The March of Time short subject Teen-Age Girls (1945) is a window on a societal ripple in postwar America that is, unusually, both dated and prescient. The documentary examines the emergence of teens as a new and important demographic, particularly females in this case, with a lighthearted and even amused attitude, but with a curious reservation—perhaps not unlike the way a parent first notices that a child isn’t a child anymore. This is our final post in this series about how Hollywood depicted children during World War II. The March of Time apparently felt, and perhaps not wrongly, that the dawn of the Teen-Age was as likely to be as influential a force in American society as the nuclear age. The narrator begins: Of all the phenomena in wartime life in the United States, one of the most fascinating and mysterious…has been the emergence of the teenage girl in her own right. This was not something Hollywood evidently considered earlier in the war, when the worldwi...
The Racket (1928) is surprisingly cynical, even while still coyly presenting what we recognize as frothy 1920s images – including speakeasies, callow youth, and an almost manic desire to rebel. Even those inclined to think that silent movies, by virtue of their being silent, are a bit of a joke will still see much in this movie that is starkly modern and which speaks to us today. Producer Howard Hughes was only twenty-three years old when he took this on for one of his very first projects in the film industry. It is a story of Chicago gangsters and the honest cop who tries to bring them down. The honest cop, played by Thomas Meighan, one of the most popular leading men of his day, is not so incorruptible that he doesn’t resort to beating up suspects to get the truth. This is, after all, Chicago, and it is, after all, the 1920s. The film makes no explanation and certainly no apology for his beating up suspects in custody, rather it paints him as a savvy hero of the dirty streets he pa...
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