Clyde Bruckman

The Abbott & Costello Show marked the last major commercial success for the comic team of Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. The duo, who had started out in burlesque in the 1930's (and each had long experience in entertainment and performing before they met), had been a veritable fixure on radio since 1938, when they'd appeared on The Kate Smith Hour, which led to work on Broadway and more radio work in 1940, initially on a summer replacement show for Fred Allen, and later with their own shows on NBC and, subsequently, on ABC. It was on the radio show that they assembled the core cast of performers, regulars and bit players, who would later work in their movies and the subsequent television series -- first and foremost among these was Sidney Fields, who would contribute to some of their early movies as a writer and bit-player, but the other important names were Iris Adrian and Elvia Allman, both of whom would later turn up on their television show. Their radio show continued into the start of the 1950's, and overlap with their film career, which began in 1941 -- up thru 1950, the films were immensely popular and profitable. But their film audience had begun to decline with the start of the new decade, and during this same period it became clear that radio had seen its day as the dominant broadcast entertainment medium. The duo began looking at television as the next stop for their careers, and made the jump to the small-screen in 1951, initially as guests on The Colgate Comedy Hour, which was successful enough so that a regular television series seemed a real possibility. That became a reality in 1952 with the first season of The Abbott & Costello Show, which went on the air on CBS in December of that year. Produced by Costello's brother Pat Costello, the rotund little comic had an ownership interest in the program, whereas Bud Abbott, unsure of the future of television, chose instead to take a larger straight salary, with no longterm interest or ownership stake in the show. The show was shot and produced at Hal Roach Studios in Los Angeles, using the same sets that were used (at the very same time period) for the Amos 'n Andy Show. The first season of The Abbott & Costello Show was formatted very loosely, and opened like a stage revue, with the two comic stepping out on stage and addressing the viewing audience, and doing some schtick, which might range anywhere from a few seconds to several minutes -- in the very first show, "The Drug Store", Costello tries to tell a fish-story to the audience in spite of Abbott's constant, brilliantly timed interruptions, which culminate with the little comic stalking off-stage, thwarted and dejected; in the very next scene, in the "story" proper, Costello is walking down a street when a woman approaches him, says, "How dare you remind me of somebody I hate!" and hits him on the head with an umbrella . . . and so it went, in 26 programs done that season in which the barest plot elements often gave way to screamingly funny digressions, leaving any semblance of story arc in the dust. Often scenes and plots were merely set-ups and excuses for the duo to do one of their classic burlesque, vaudeville, or radio routines, of which the most famous was "Who's On First," in which Abbott tries to tell an increasingly frustrated Costello the names of the member of a baseball team ("Who's on first, What's on second, and I Don't Know's on third . . . . ") -- others were "Niagara Falls" (aka "Slowly I Turned"), "Mustard," "Hertz U Drive," "Susquehanna Hat Company" (aka "Bagle Street," aka "Floogle Street," a sketch that veteran comic Joey Faye claimed authorship of), and "Jonah and the Whale." There were literally dozens of such routines, and they were all used liberally in that first season. Indeed, one episode, "Getting A Job", seems to have been assembled from random pieces of footage, without any continuing plot at all and none of the pieces of footage really relating in anyway to those around them -- and it is still immensely funny, mostly because that's the episode that has the "Susquehanna Hat Company" sketch in it. The basic premise of the first season presented Bud Abbott and Lou Costello -- using their own names -- as denizens of a Los Angeles rooming house owned by Sidney Fields (using his own name for his character), who also played other roles in various episodes, including innumerable Fields brothers and cousins, and lawyer Claude Melonhead, among others, and also wrote many of the shows -- the bald-headed Fields was excitable and blustery, and the perfect foil for both comedians. Gordon Jones, an athlete-turned-actor and veteran action film star, played Mike The Cop (aka Mike Kelly), a resident of the same rooming house and the constant nemesis of the two heroes, especially Costello. Joe Kirk, Costello's brother-in-law, played Mr. Bacciagalupe, who always seemed to be in businesses that were relevant to whatever the story-line or sketch required, as well as occasional other characters. And Hillary Brooke, a tall, glamorous, classically-trained actress who'd graced motion pictures for the previous decade, played a character of the same name, who also lived in the rooming house (though in the first episode, her character didn't have a name and didn't know Abbott or Costello) -- one running joke was Costello's crush on Hillary, and his occasional inept efforts to tell her how he felt, which frequently ended up with him stepping on her foot, covering her with water, soot, or some other unpleasant substance, or otherwise offending her. Another regular was Joe Besser, still a few years from joining the Three Stooges, who played Stinky, another resident of the rooming house -- he was surreal, a fat 40-year-old bald man in a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit, acting like a bad-tempered seven-year-old and always fighting with Costello. And the duo's own resident comic "stooge" and de facto court jester, Bobby Barber, a bald-headed man with huge, expressive eyes and limbs seemingly made of rubber, played a multitude of roles (sometimes as many as three in the same episode!), usually in some slapstick interaction with Costello. The other bit players were Milt Bronson who, in addition to being an on-screen nemesis to Costello, also served as dialogue director for the show; veteran film actress Iris Adrian as a variety of excitable women; Robin Raymond in the same sorts of parts; Minerva Urecal, a veteran stage and screen actress, who was kind of this duo's answer to the Marx Brothers' Margaret Dumont; and Joan Shawlee (who could also play as many as three roles in the same show) as a frequent sharp-tongued female antagonist for Costello (most memorably as an uncooperative telephone operator who drives Costello to distraction as the latter tries to call the number ALexander 4444). And most surreal of all was the presence of Bingo the Chimp, a chimpanzee who was usually seen wearing a miniature version of Lou Costello's familiar checked jacket and derby hat. Jean Yarbrough, who'd made numerous low-budget films at Universal, directed the show. The first season was hugely successful, but following it up proved a problem. The sponsors wanted a more conventional comedy series, and the decision to go in that direction was probably a necessity in any case, as the team had used up most of their best routines in those first 26 shows. For the second season, the concept was changed significantly -- Abbott and Costello still lived at the Fields apartment house, Sidney Fields was still their landlord, and Gordon Jones's Mike the Cop was still there for some shows, but gone were Joe Kirk, Hillary Brooke, Joe Besser, and Bingo. Additionally, the shows were no longer structured to allow the easy inclusion of vaudeville routines, and there was no longer any opening and closing "set up" in which the two would address the audience -- plots were followed from beginning to end, and an extremely annoying laugh-track was utilized (the first season also had a laugh-track, but a much more realistic one -- the second season was filled with grotesque shrieking laughs, often in the wrong spots). For scripts, the second season also fell back on a lot of recycled humor in scripts that seem to have mostly been written by Clyde Bruckman, a gagman from the silent era, who shamelessly repeated bits he'd written for Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton and, more recently, the Three Stooges et al, so closely that scenes were sometimes interchangeable between A&C and the Stooges. It was still a funny show, but not as consistently so by a longshot. It also marked the beginning of the end of the duo's popular culture impact; their new movies were sinking fast in quality and audience, and the reissue of their classic old films, plus the release of the movies they were making and the television series -- which ran to 52 shows -- led to the duo's being seriously over-exposed at the time. By 1955, the year after the series ended production, they were at the tail-end of their careers. The series continued to be popular, however, and actually found a larger audience in syndication -- it proved especially popular in late-afternoon time-slots, where young viewers who'd never seen the duo's earlier movies could discover them for the first time, much as they would do with the Three Stooges when their short films were licensed for broadcast. Costello's family, which inherited his ownership interest in the show following his death in 1959, reaped the benefits from those decades of syndicated telecasts or video and DVD sales. ~ Bruce Eder, All Movie Guide

Joan Davis, the daughter of a famed woman detective, has inherited none of her mother's deductive prowess. Nonetheless, Joan teams with patrolman Leon Errol to solve a series of blowgun murders. The two erstwhile Sherlocks track down the alleged murder weapon to a theatre, where it is being used as a prop in a play. After disrupting the performance, Davis determines that the murders weren't committed by blowgun, and that the culprit is a mild-mannered gentleman to whom murder is a "hobby." The title She Gets Her Man clues us in on the finale, and also refers to the shaky but affectionate relationship between Joan Davis and Leon Errol. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Although coming in at an odd running time -- 40 minutes -- this interesting, low-budget drama looks at the adventures, or rather misadventures of a sailor (Paul von Schreiber) with a weekend leave in Los Angeles. The seaman is a country boy unused to the ways of big city women and so he gets his first shock when he picks up a comely lass and takes off with her for a few drinks together -- only to have her deliver a fanatical religious diatribe to the bar's customers. The second shock comes when a woman from a dance hall captures his fancy, then demands a ten-spot for the time she has spent with him. After the city, the ship may look pretty good. ~ Eleanor Mannikka, All Movie Guide

If one were forced to choose, Swingtime Johnny may well be the best of the Andrews Sisters' 1940 "B"-musicals. Patty, Maxine and Laverne Andrews play three popular singers (what a stretch!) who do their bit for Uncle Sam by landing jobs in a defense factory. When they're not hammering and rivetting, the girls provide dinner-break entertainment for their fellow workers. The film's wisp of a romantic subplot is carried by Harriet Hilliard (aka Harriet Nelson) as a nightclub chanteuse who falls in love with the handsome factory owner (Peter Cookson). Meanwhile, a jealous employee does his best to sabotage the romance. Fans of "Our Gang" will recognize chubby Joe Cobb in a bit as a garage mechanic. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

In this musical western, a cowboy band is offered the chance to appear in a Hollywood movie and begins the journey to the West Coast. Unfortunately, the band ends up stranded in Texas and must take a job running a ranch. Musical mayhem ensues: Songs include: "Let's Love Again," "Where the Prairie Meets the Sky," "Don't You Ever Be a Cowboy," "Texas Polka," "No Letter Today," "I Got Mellow in the Yellow of the Moon," "Sip Nip Song," "Salt-Water Cowboy," "The Blues," "Little Brown Jug" and "And Then." ~ Sandra Brennan, All Movie Guide

In this tuneful comedy, a would-be actor and playwright is deeply in debt, and to keep away from his creditors, begins pretending to be his aged uncle. Unfortunately he ends up getting hit by a limousine. The rich woman inside takes the wounded "codger" home to her manhungry old aunt. The actor uses the old woman's desire to con her into financing his "nephew's" play. Things are going well until the actor's real uncle appears. Mayhem and a double wedding ensue. Songs include: "St. Louis Blues" (W.C. Handy, sung by the Delta Rhythm Boys), "Don't Get Around Much Anymore" (Duke Ellington, Bob Russell, sung by the Delta Rhythm Boys), "Liza" (George Gershwin, sung by the Tailor Maids), "That's the Way It Goes" (Milton Rosen, Everett Carter, sung by Mary O'Brien), "You're Driving Me Crazy" (sung by Jan Garber and his Orchestra), "Dark Eyes" (sung by Mary O'Brien, with Jack Teagarden and His Orchestra). Other songs were penned by Walter Donaldson and W.C. Handy. ~ Sandra Brennan, All Movie Guide

When millionaire Peter Hedley Lamar Jr. (Buster Keaton) is smitten by the loveliness of an Army nurse (Dorothy Appleby), he decides to enlist because the woman will pay attention only to soldiers. Once in the service, however, he spends most of his time cleaning spittoons and fending off the advances of another, more predatory nurse (Elsie Ames) -- although the two do engage in a show-stopping song-and-dance routine. He eventually manages to get himself sufficiently injured to be put in the hospital near his beloved and, despite the further efforts of the rival nurse, he is able to rescue his girl from a lunatic and win her affection. ~ Nicole Gagne, All Movie Guide

Nothing But Pleasure was hardly any pleasure at all. The third of Buster Keaton's ten two-reel comedies for Columbia went absolutely nowhere fast despite a good set-up. Keaton and wife (Dorothy Appleby) combine a car-buying spree in Detroit with what they assume will be a pleasant drive home. Naturally, the trip turns into a nightmare. Veteran Keaton collaborator Clyde Bruckman borrowed pieces of business from his distant past, including W.C. Fields' The Man in the Flying Trapeze and Keaton's own Spite Marriage (1929). From the latter Bruckman lifted a famous gag where Buster carries a drunken woman to bed. Hysterically funny back in 1929, perhaps, less so ten years and a long struggle with alcoholism later. Former B-Western star Addison Randall (aka Jack Randall) and future MGM lead Robert Sterling appeared in bit parts. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, All Movie Guide

Buster Keaton is sadly miscast in this two-reel comedy about the capture of a jewel thief. Mainly nonstop slapstick, the short left no room for Keaton to even begin to develop his character. The Taming of the Snood marked the Keaton series debut of Elsie Ames, an eccentric dancer whom Columbia was grooming for comedy stardom. The attempt proved singularly unsuccessful. ~ Hans J. Wollstein, All Movie Guide

This Civil War comedy, related in flashbacks, depicts the misadventures of Buster Keaton as he tries to avoid getting killed by both Confederate and Union soldiers. When news of the outbreak of war reaches his family, Keaton and his brother Cyrus (Monty Collins) go off to enlist. But when they return home, they're in different uniforms: Keaton has joined the Confederacy and Cyrus the Union. As opposing armies sweep through the land, the brothers keep changing uniforms to blend in. Ultimately, Keaton is able to warn the Confederate forces and rescue them from the Union army. Note that producer/director Jules White remade this script (written by longtime Keaton collaborator Clyde Bruckman) as the 1946 Columbia two-reeler Uncivil Warbirds starring the Three Stooges. ~ Nicole Gagne, All Movie Guide

Even a run-of-the-mill Three Stooges short had its moments, as this one proves. It begins in November, 1918, and Larry, Moe and Curly are sleeping through the end of World War I. The sergeant (Stanley Blystone) wakes them up to tell them the war is over -- and to abuse them, blacking Curly and Larry's eyes and mercilessly twisting Moe's arm. But the Stooges release their pent-up anger at the sarge once they have their discharge papers, and he winds up much the worse for wear. Seventeen years later, it's the depths of the depression and the Stooges are broke and hungry. When they see a diner sitting in front of a sumptuous feast, they get a stray dog to run in and grab the roast chicken. The dog, of course, won't give it up, and the diner is ready to throttle them. Instead, he tricks them into re-enlisting in the Army. The worst part about being back in uniform is that once again they're stuck with the same nasty sergeant. During one drill with a cannon, they are sent out to get the shells and gun powder. When they return they don't realize that target practice has been canceled and proceed to shoot everything in sight, including the admiral's flagship (at this point it's pretty obvious that Columbia thanked its lucky stars for stock footage!). The boys are proud of their work, and the sergeant cheerfully lines them up. But instead of the reward they're expecting, he points the cannon at them and fires. All that's left of the Stooges is their smoking boots. ~ Janiss Garza, All Movie Guide

W.C. Fields plays Ambrose Wolfinger, the henpecked husband to end all henpecked husbands. A widower, Ambrose married a second time only to provide a mother for his pretty daughter (Mary Brian). What he got was an overbearing harpy of a wife (Kathleen Howard), a fussy and imperious mother-in-law (Vera Lewis) and a shiftless brother-in-law (Grady Sutton). Ambrose plans to attend a much-awaited wrestling match, but can't get the day off of work. He lies for the first time in his life, telling his boss that his mother-in-law has died. En route to the wrestling meet, Ambrose suffers one mishap after another, from a string of traffic tickets to an encounter with a runaway tire. He gets to the match just in time to miss the whole thing, and ends up bruised and battered on the sidewalk. Meanwhile, his home is being deluged with flowers, offered in sympathy for his "dead" mother-in-law who is very much alive but not amused. When his boss discovers the deception, he fires Ambrose. The poor man returns home to face the cold stares of his wife's family. They goad and harass him until he can stand no more: when brother-in-law insults his daughter, Ambrose punches him out (a scene that always results in audience cheers) and tells everyone else where to go. Soon after, his anxious ex-boss calls up; only Ambrose can decipher the important messages left behind on his cluttered desk, and would Ambrose like to come back to work? His loyal and loving daughter negotiates a hefty salary hike for Ambrose, and the film ends with Our Hero assuming his proper role as head of the household, with his obnoxious in-laws literally left out in the rain. An uproarious "worm turns" farce, Man on the Flying Trapeze was an expanded version of 1932 Mack Sennett two-reeler, Too Many Highballs, and a partial remake of Fields' own silent feature Running Wild (27). ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide