DANIEL BOONE: 60s AND 70s ADVENTURE SERIES STILL PERFECT FAMILY FUN

 

If you noticed that I haven't posted since Christmas:  1) give yourself a star for noticing! And 2) no, I haven't abandoned it--I'm just dying.

By Paul Mavis

Funny how comforting television--old television, to be clear, from before cable--can be when you're ill.  When things are bad, it doesn't even have to be one of your favorite shows--it can be most any series from that golden age, as long as it comes from the era where writers and directors actually understood classic story construction; performers tried to service the piece, not themselves; and producers understood mainstream network television's first goal was to sell soap by entertaining its viewers.  Entertain them.  Not belittle them.  Not lecture them (that doesn't mean "no messages." Far from it).  Not attack them.

A few years back, 20th Century-Fox introduced a new releasing line called the TV Archives (pretty sure that's gone...along with 20th Century-Fox itself), inaugurating it with Daniel Boone—The Complete Series: The Fiftieth Anniversary, a 6-volume, 36-disc, 165-episode collection of the beloved 1960s NBC action/adventure series. 

Starring Fess Parker, Patricia Blair (pretty and bland), Ed Ames (lots of fun with his English colloquialisms and smirky reaction shots), Darby Hinton (all-American kid), Veronica Cartwright (excellent here…what a shame Blair got her fired), Albert Salmi (fine but superfluous once Ames took the sidekick slot), Jimmy Dean (amiable, as usual), Dallas McKennon (funny old coot), and Rosey Grier (who was going to tell him he was trying too hard?), Daniel Boone proved a sizeable hit with families and young audiences during its six season run, from 1964-1970.

Click to purchase Daniel Boone: The Complete Series on DVD:

Daniel Boone still plays quite well today, with its solid storytelling mix of agreeably idealized history (…which everyone involved in the making of series was well aware of, so save your snarky superior sneers, you supercilious shits), sprightly action, a moral to send the kids off to bed on (back when kids had bedtimes), and smooth, assured performances, particularly from its star, Fess Parker. 

With that honeyed, mellifluous Texas accent and imposing 6 foot 5 stature, Parker was the embodiment of what we like to think a classic American male is…or least what they used to be (God help us from the freaks and phonies that pass as American movie and TV stars today…). Daniel Boone, as romanticized in Daniel Boone, is an iconic American role that requires gentle strength, few words that are nonetheless delivered well and with authority, and an absolute confidence in knowing that what you’re doing, is right. Fess Parker is a natural at conveying that kind of American male—a figure in popular culture, I suspect, that is gone for good.

To my older brothers, Fess Parker would forever be Disney’s Davey Crockett, such was the impact of that baby boomer phenomenon on them. But for me (Gen X or Generation Jones, or my own preferred genus subspecies:  derelict-us bum-icus), coming along more than ten years after the fact, the image of Parker frozen in my mind is that of Daniel Boone, no doubt from countless reruns of the series when I was growing up (who the hell from my generation didn’t want to pick up that tomahawk, with “INSERT YOUR FULL NAME was a Man, Yes a Big Man!” playing in their head as they hurled it, splitting that title card log open like a chicken?).

Fess Parker’s career always intrigued me because, despite the “second phase” success of Daniel Boone, I could never quite figure out how someone as talented as Parker, who was given a truly global springboard like those five one-hour Disney Davy Crockett movies, didn’t have a more substantial career on the big and small screens. Well…after some reading, I found out that Parker spent a lot of time wondering about that very same question himself….

According to interviews with Parker, Daniel Boone was originally conceived as The Further Adventures of Davy Crockett…but ol’ Uncle Walt said, “No way.” Parker, under personal contract with Walt Disney during the Davy Crockett period in the mid-50s, could never quite understand why his boss didn’t do more with him at the studio. 

Why wouldn’t Walt loan him out for projects that could have upped Parker’s profile (and one would gather, increase the value of Disney’s “property”), such as John Ford’s The Searchers (which Disney turned down for Parker without telling him) or Josh Logan’s Bus Stop, with Marilyn Monroe (here's a hint:  prude)? 

Indeed, Walt’s first project for Parker after Crockett—a critical moment in Parker’s career, since Hollywood was looking closely to see if he wasn’t just a flash in the pan—was The Great Locomotive Chase…where lead Parker was hung as a spy at the big-screen movie’s finale (thanks, Uncle Walt, for almost killing my career almost before it started…).

From there it was all downhill, as Walt either put Parker in desultory projects, or fobbed him off in trivial roles (Westward Ho the Wagons!, a small part in Old Yeller)...or just flat-out ignored him. Fed up with the demand that he appear in a glorified cameo for Disney’s Sal Mineo Western, Tonka, Parker quit Disney, and moved over to Paramount, where he fared little better (supporting roles in second-tier movies like The Jayhawkers! and Hell is for Heroes). 

Parker, going nowhere fast on the big screen, had little choice but to return to TV in NBC’s small-screen adaptation of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, which only lasted one go-around during the 1962-1963 season. So when NBC suggested Parker return to the role that had made him an international icon—Davey Crockett—the pragmatic Parker, now with a family to feed, readily agreed.

Too bad ol’ Uncle Walt didn’t feel the same way. When NBC let Disney know they were going to remount Davy Crockett for Fess Parker (which of course they had every legal right to, since you can’t copyright the biography of a long-dead historical person), Walt—whose Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color was one of the very few NBC shows in the Nielsen Top Thirty—let the network powers-that-be know he wouldn’t be too happy with that proposed Crockett TV series getting a pilot (Parker, always the true gentleman, was nice about this, never publicly stating that he thought Walt was being vindictive to an old employee who walked out on him…but I’m saying it).

To their credit, NBC, badly in need of more hits in the face of CBS’ increasing domination of the ratings, forged ahead and proposed that Parker keep his coonskin cap on and play frontier explorer Daniel Boone instead (even though Disney had done a Boone project in 1960 with Dewey Martin, he didn’t push it by objecting to this conversion–probably because the Martin outing was a flop). 

This time, though, Parker was determined not to be a mere employee, particularly after Walt made millions off Parker’s tireless promotional efforts as a global spokesman for the entire Disney brand during the Davy Crockett craziness…while Parker was being paid a measly $350 dollars a week on his contract).

Parker owned 30% of Daniel Boone, with old Hollywood pro director/producer George Sherman (Comanche Territory, Tomahawk), producer Aaron Rosenberg (To Hell and Back, 1962’s Mutiny on the Bounty), and 20th Century-Fox as partners (according to Parker, he and Walt exchanged pleasantries during a Daniel Boone launch party…but Parker never heard from ol’ Walt ever again.  That's show biz). 

Shot in color but broadcast that first 1964-1965 season in black and white (from what I’ve read, the color masters are long gone), Daniel Boone didn’t crack the vaunted Nielsen Top Thirty that first season (the debut of 18th most-watched The Munsters over on CBS cut into Boone’s family demo…if the small fry weren’t already tuned into The Flintstones and The Donna Reed Show on ABC). But Daniel Boone often did well in its time slot, and with networks back then being far more patient in letting a show build and find an audience, Daniel Boone survived that first season to come back in its sophomore session as the 26th most-watched show on television—a sizeable hit.

Watching the six seasons of this series, what struck me almost immediately about Daniel Boone was the sense of fair-mindedness in Parker’s portrayal of frontiersman, as well as in the series’ overall even-handed viewpoint of its clash of cultures and peoples on the pre-Revolutionary War frontier. 

It’s a decidedly un-P.C. approach to the material that may well puzzle those who have grown up in today’s restrictive, locked-down politically correct culture (but it won’t be for fans of vintage TV, who know better). It’s solid, sensible entertainment, for lack of a better word, employing the classic (and perhaps now dead) American values of self-determination and self-reliance, regardless of your race or your creed or your religion.

Daniel expects nothing more from anyone—Indian, Britisher, settler—than simple respect, and the right to pursue his individual and family life according to his own views, without anyone stopping him…particularly the ruling government (good luck with that today). And if that settler or Indian or Britisher violates that basic God-given right (and this from your atheist reviewer), Daniel tells them so—fearlessly—regardless of who they are. 

Of course, there are many people today who would say that’s a ridiculous notion because we weren’t equal as a nation during this time—that it’s naive and even dangerous to believe Daniel Boone‘s open-minded “history lessons,” not just from a facts-on-file view, such as historic figures in time-lines that don’t make sense in the season’s story arcs, but also from a sociological perspective (18th century characters with 1960s politically enlightened sensibilities).

Of course the easiest answer to that kind of phony critical outrage or dismissiveness is that Daniel Boone was first entertainment, and second, “message”…and at no time was it an attempt at “real” history. I reject the elitist writers and “TV critics”—yeech—who wring their hands and bemoan those clueless masses being brainwashed into thinking “tripe” like Daniel Boone is factual and historical, and thus potentially capable of warping their sensibilities. 

TV viewers, then and now, are smarter than that (Parker hit it right on the head about the fantasy elements of Daniel Boone, stating: “Well, thankfully, the American public sees entertainment for what it is, it’s entertainment, it’s not life, so we were able to spend six years on it.”).

That’s particularly true with the dismissive criticism of the Mingo character (marvelously played by Ed Ames), with critics saying it was laughable to have an Oxford-educated Indian befriend Daniel as an unlikely sidekick. This critical carping strikes me as a far more racist viewpoint than the “evils” of the early seasons of Daniel Boone supposedly comforting early 1960s racist Americans (that viewpoint comes from one of the series’ producers, by the way), by showing Indians—as well as American settlers and British soldiers, which is conveniently forgotten—who were treacherous. 

There’s an interesting exchange between Daniel and Mingo in the first episode, Ken-Tuck-E, where Mingo talks of “God’s many children with many tongues.” He goes on to speak of his belief that “The red man kills to live; too often, the white man lives to kill.” If this were a TV show today, Boone would agree with Mingo, and offer a guilty, contrite apology. 

Not so here. Daniel replies: “Some do; others don’t.” It’s obvious they disagree, but they continue on with their friendship. You would never hear that sentiment today; it’s de rigueur that any project today dealing with this particular time period in America history would have its characters divided between absolute evil (all whites) and absolute good (everyone else).

Daniel Boone, however, is more nuanced and thoughtful than that.  Today’s TV may be more graphic or unflinching in the depiction of its dramatic themes, and thus perceived, somehow, to be more “honest” or “real” than television from Daniel Boone‘s more innocent days…but today’s TV is also almost exclusively one-sided in its perspective (and you know what side that is). 

In the second season episode, My Name is Rawls, co-starring Olympic decathlete and civil rights activist, Rafer Johnson, the then-white hot topic of race relations is tackled head-on (hardly seems like the kind of material for a “kiddie show,” as Daniel Boone was often derisively labeled).

Johnson, playing a former slave now free, is stealing other trappers’ pelts to sell to murderous white thieves, to earn his passage back to Africa. Just the notion that Johnson wants to return to Africa is novel enough for 1965 television (most episodes would have demanded that he wish to stay here as a free man), but when the producer and writers gave him these words to say, it must have been a jolt to the families watching the show: “The white man took my freedom and brought me to this country. I want my freedom back. I want to see my home again. These are my rights. I’m claiming them the only way I can.”

But of course, it’s never that simple, as Daniel points out. Setting out to track down Johnson for stealing the pelts, Daniel responds to the above by saying, “You make it sound sort of logical. The only thing is, by taking something that you say belongs to you, you’re taking something that belongs to somebody else.” 

When pressed further by Johnson, Daniel flatly states, “You might say I’m dead set against thievery.” Throughout Daniel Boone‘s run, an even-handed approach is applied to this central issue of perceived rights versus larger responsibilities—both personal and societal, with Daniel and Mingo often making a case for racial harmony facilitated by an overriding moral code based on individual responsibility.

When Daniel asks Johnson to trust him, that he doesn’t want to send him back to the slave owners, Daniel says, “A man’s what he is—regardless. I don’t think race or color has anything to do with it.” Johnson replies, “White men sold me into slavery; how could I ever be his friend?” Daniel, smiling along with Mingo, his Indian friend, responds sensibly, “Well, I don’t like all Indians for that matter. Depends on what you’re looking for,” while Mingo smilingly acknowledges this truism with a nod.

It’s this kind of honest, pragmatic, fair approach to difficult, controversial issues that’s missing from our current one-sided entertainment culture (and frankly from our culture in general, in these here United States of Mexico), and it makes Daniel Boone a minor revelation today, if you’re unfamiliar with it. 

Today, if a character uttered the words that Daniel said above, he’d immediately be labeled a racist, and the discussion would be over—a convenient way to shut down someone as “absolutely wrong” without having to hear what they’re actually saying (a nefarious practice used today by those who claim a higher moral ground…in order to silence any and all opposition). But far from being a racist, Daniel goes so far as to protect Johnson over the safety of his own daughter, while securing the funds to send Johnson back to Africa…if Johnson so chooses.

I highlighted these earlier episodes not just because they’re excellent examples of Daniel Boone‘s thoughtful context within a family-friendly action/adventure format, but also to counter producer Barney Rosenzweig’s (seasons 4 through 6) assertions—laid out to any interviewer who would listen to him—that Daniel Boone was lightweight garbage before he came along in season 4 and “introverted” the series into something meaningful. 

According to Rosenzweig’s interviews (watch his video one for the Archive of American Television to see exactly why so many people loathe the Hollywood Left), he was brought into the “troubled” production prior to the 1967-1968 season because the ratings were falling (not true). All he was instructed to do by his father-in-law—who just happened to be producer Aaron Rosenberg—was to shepherd the show through this fourth and certainly last season, so enough episodes would be ready for syndication.

And the way he did this was to take a chance and make Daniel Boone relevant by “introducing ideas and thoughts to people who hadn’t been exposed to them,” specifically: teaching those poor unformed, unrealized boobs out in TVland about Vietnam, “civil disobedience, and the plight of blacks before slavery was abolished,” to Fess’ “huge audience in the South.” 

Now…just re-read that again: Rosenzweig’s Daniel Boone reached down into the fetid, illiterate swamp known as “the deep South,” and taught those know-nothing racist crackers a thing or two about how America’s history really was—specifically, about slavery…to the South that apparently didn’t understand those ramifications over the last 100 years (I’m surprised he didn’t throw in ol’ Dan’l takin’ a bath ever now ‘n’ then so’n the viewer would knowd what a cake of lye soap wuz fer).

Such unwarranted, elitist hubris condemns itself, but something should be said about his numbers, at least. When Rosenzweig was brought into the “failing” Daniel Boone, its ratings had done nothing but climb prior to his hiring: 26th overall for its sophomore season, and 25th for its third. 

Rosenzweig’s first season as producer actually saw a four-slot drop in the Nielsen’s (29th) for the show’s fourth season, before the fifth season rebounded to 21st (against zero competition, lucky for him), with the last season well out of the Nielsen Top Thirty against monster hit, Family Affair, over on CBS. 

Maybe Parker said it best; in his Daniel Boone interview for Archive of American Television, he lists his producers by name…before referring to Rosenzweig as “the 29-year-old son-in-law,” (hahahaha--classic). 

Rosenzweig didn’t make Daniel Boone “relevant.” It already was. He may have made it more message-y, while cutting back the action (which wasn’t wise in the long run)…but it was always entertainment with a thoughtful context.

PAUL MAVIS IS AN INTERNATIONALLY PUBLISHED MOVIE AND TELEVISION HISTORIAN, A MEMBER OF THE ONLINE FILM CRITICS SOCIETY, AND THE AUTHOR OF THE ESPIONAGE FILMOGRAPHY. Click to order.

Read more of my TV reviews here. Read my film reviews at Movies & Drinks

CHRISTMAS TELEVISION FAVORITES: A LOOK BACK AT 7 ANIMATED CLASSICS, INCLUDING THE GRINCH, FROSTY, AND RUDOLPH!

So I missed Hanukkah?  Goddamnit!  That's what happens when you convert your cozy den/office into a 100% federally-funded 125 child-capacity daycare center.  You get distracted. Well...what to do, then?   I guess I can't think of a better way to commemorate the rededication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem at the time of the Maccabean Revolt against Hellenistic King Antiochus IV Epiphanes and the Seleucid Empire, than to break out the animated Christmas toon collections!  I know the little tots will love it...if and when they ever show up.

I guess they still do broadcast the classic Christmas toons on television, but where and when...I don't know, nor do I care.  We don't operate like a community anymore, when it comes to pop culture (and everything else, come to think of it), which quite frankly, is increasingly okay with me.  I'm easing quite comfortably into reactionary isolation, so I'll just break out my Christmas physical media and tell the rest of the uncaring, not-listening world to, in the immortal words of Grandpa Munster, "drop dead."   

An oldie but a goodie: Warner Bros.’ Christmas Television Favorites disc set from 2007, featuring Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas!, The Year Without a Santa Claus, Rudolph and Frosty’s Christmas in July, Rudolph’s Shiny New Year, Frosty’s Winter Wonderland, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, and Nestor, the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey seems like a good pick. 

DR. SEUSS’ HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS!

By this point (and lets skip a synopsis)…what else can be said about this timeless, thoroughly brilliant classic from 1966, a near-perfect mixture of Dr. Seuss’ wonderfully playful storytelling, with Looney Tunes cruelty, courtesy of Chuck Jones? The solitary rival to the Rankin/Bass monopoly on Christmas TV favorites, Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas! is that exceedingly rare example of a “kiddie” short that is equally satisfying to adults (maybe more so…if you’re in a grinchy mood). 

Facing the daunting task of adapting Dr. Seuss’ primal, almost-scary children’s book, Looney Tunes genius Chuck Jones put his own personal stamp on the source material, creating a twisted, perverse riff on Seuss’ character that plays like a very mean, very cruel—and very funny—Daffy Duck take-off. Watching Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas! now, it’s fun to spot all the Looney Tunes visual references, as well as the surprisingly nasty humor (listen to little Max yip every time the Grinch cracks that whip…and he just keeps snapping him).

Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas! is also that children’s rarity where the visuals are matched by the vocal performances—in this case, Boris Karloff’s virtuoso take on the narration, and Thurl Ravenscroft singing You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch (who was cruelly left off the original credits). When you realize that it’s going to be the Boris Karloff doing the narration, it seems like an odd choice at first; his distinctive lisp, British lilt, and his well-established horror persona would seem outsized for the project, throwing the balance off for the viewer who may be distracted by the odd mix of Looney Tunes’s comic cruelty and Universal horror.

But as we know now, one can’t imagine Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas! without Karloff (one of the major missteps with Ron Howard's 2000 live-action version was hiring a thoroughly bored-sounding Anthony Hopkins to drone on and on and on as the dispirited narrator). A natural born storyteller, Karloff is so ingenious with his little verbal twists and turns, that one can just listen to the short, without actually watching it, and get an enormous amount of pleasure out of it. 

It’s a toss-up between Grinch, Rankin/Bass’ equally brilliant (for entirely different reasons) Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Bill Melendez’s A Charlie Brown Christmas for the honor of the most popular animated holiday classic…but I know which one I watch when I want my laughs to have a harder edge.

 

THE YEAR WITHOUT A SANTA CLAUS

When you mention 1974’s The Year Without a Santa Clause to someone who’s already watched it, you’re not going to get “Mickey Rooney!” or “Shirley Booth!” as a response…even though they’re terrific here (and you sure as hell better not hear, “John Goodman!”, from that excremental 2006 live-action version). You’re invariably going to hear, “Heat Miser and Snow Miser!” supporting characters in this delightful Rankin/Bass toon who became genuine icons of many 70s kids’ Christmas memories.

As I’m sure you remember, in The Year Without a Santa Claus, Santa (voice talent of Mickey Rooney) wakes up one morning with a cold, and after listening to his crotchety doctor, agrees that there’s no longer any Christmas spirit, and decides to cancel the holiday. 

After tucking the depressed Santa back into bed, Mrs. Claus (voice talent of Shirley Booth) instructs elves Jingle and Jangle (voice talents of Bob McFadden and Bradley Bolke) to travel to Southtown, U.S.A. to try and find some evidence of Christmas spirit to bring back, to convince Santa he’s still loved and needed. Baby reindeer Vixen is called into service to ferry them down south.

Mrs. Claus spills the beans to Santa about her plan, and he immediately sets off to rescue the group, knowing that the Heat Miser and Snow Miser (voices of George S. Irving and Dick Shawn), who guard the way back between the North Pole and the rest of the world, can be formidable obstacles. 

Down in Dixie, the trio run into trouble. The children don’t believe in Santa any longer, and Vixen is locked up in the dog pound. It’s up to Santa to rescue Vixen, and it’s up to Mrs. Claus to persuade Mother Nature (voice talent of Rhoda Mann) to convince her two quarreling boys to let it snow in Southtown, while having a nice spring day at the North Pole.

The Year Without a Santa Claus always feels like a near-miss Rankin/Bass effort to me. Based in part on the celebrated 1956 short story by Phyllis McGinley, The Year Without a Santa Claus has all the ingredients of the traditional Rankin/Bass holiday special: clever, sweet songs (you know you can sing the Miser boys’ songs…), charming stop-motion “animagic” animation, a simple, clear storyline, and some top-flight voice work from veteran pros.

It all comes together quite well, but somehow I always feel that the center is diffused by too many characters going off on their own missions: Santa comes to Southtown; Mrs. Claus visits the Miser Brothers and Mother Nature, Jingle and Jangle travel also to Southtown, and non-believer Ignatius (voice talent of Colin Duffy) follows them all around. It’s not that any of the individual parts don’t work; it just never feels like a single, whole, contained piece. 

Perhaps that’s why the Miser Brothers are so well remembered from the show, but the remaining characters and story elements, as well as the title song, aren’t. Still, The Year Without a Santa Claus is entertaining, with a sweet story that young children still respond to over forty years after its original broadcast.

 

RUDOLPH’S SHINY NEW YEAR

For Rudolph’s Shiny New Year, Red Skelton is heard as old Father Time, who sends a message to Santa (voice talent of Paul Frees) that the Baby New Year is missing. Santa, seeing how dark and snowy and foggy it is outside, decides that Rudolph (voice talent of Billie Mae Richards) is the only one who can go to Father Time, and find out how to track down Baby New Year. 

Clued in by Father Time that the Baby New Year ran away because everyone was laughing at his enormous ears, Rudolph goes to the Archipelago of Last Years to find the runaway, aided by various friends including knight Sir Ten-to-Three (voice talent of Frank Gorshin), caveman One Million (voice talent of Morey Amsterdam), “Big” Ben Franklin (voice talent of Harold Peaky), and General Ticker (Frees). But can the group get past the evil Eon (Frees), the vicious buzzard who hopes to live forever by kidnapping the Baby New Year?

Well, what’s mostly wrong with it is…it’s not a Christmas story. Much like the similarly structured Here Comes Peter Cottontail, 1976’s Rudolph’s Shiny New Year relies on the lead character, Rudolph (cannily shoehorned into the plot), going on a journey through time to correct an upcoming event. Unfortunately, it doesn’t offer one single memorable song, and that’s a big minus with any Rankin/Bass offering (the depressingly morbid and contemplative Turn Back the Years should bring the small fry to tears right smartly).

Still… Rudolph’s Shiny New Year may champion a holiday that doesn’t mean much to young children (“Stay up to watch Mommy and Daddy get drunk and fumble around in the linen closet? Pass.”).  But it is a suitably low-level, slightly surreal “animagic” journey that will keep your interest through its running time. And it does sport some fun voice work, particularly from Red Skelton and the original voice of Rudolph, Billie Mae Richards.

 

NESTOR, THE LONG-EARED CHRISTMAS DONKEY

Speaking of depressing, don’t let your kids watch Nestor, the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey if they cried during Bambi or Dumbo. Telling the story of the little donkey who carried Mary to Bethlehem, Nestor, the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey starts out marvelously, with the dolefully-voiced Roger Miller perfectly suited to voicing Speiltoe, Santa’s donkey (yes—Santa has a donkey, apparently). 

Recounting his ancestor Nestor’s (voice talent of Shelly Hines) part in the Nativity scene, Speiltoe flashes us back to those ancient times when Nestor was the butt of jokes in Olaf (voice talent of Paul Frees) the donkey breeder’s stable. Evidently, Nestor’s extra-long ears puts him in company with Rudolph’s shiny nose and Baby New Year’s huge ears, engendering the mocking cruelty of his fellow animals (gee...I hope there's Twitter outrage for this....).

When the rest of the donkeys are taken away by Roman soldiers, Nestor is thrown out of the stables in a snowstorm, with his mother (voice talent of Linda Gary).  escaping to help him. She shields him through the snowstorm, but dies of exposure the next morning, leaving little Nestor all alone (cue the bawling kids watching). 

A cherub named Tilly (voice talent of Brenda Vaccaro) inspires Nestor to follow a star, informing Nestor that his life is meant for a very special purpose. Soon, Nestor is chosen by Mary (voice talent of Taryn Davies) and Joseph (voice talent of Harry Rosner) to carry her to Bethlehem, and Nestor becomes a hero to the other animals.

Nestor, the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey is a fairly violent little Rankin/Bass production (watch how many times Nestor gets tossed around by Olaf), and a rather sad one, too, with the death of Nestor’s mother a major bummer for kids on vacation who just wanted to see some puppets walking around. Singer/songwriter Roger Miller is a particularly amusing narrator (just as he was as Disney’s animated Robin Hood) in the opening scenes, shaking his head and rolling his eyes when he mournfully intones, “But you know them elves,” when he’s describing how they won’t fix the donkey toy in the stable manger set-up. 

But with the exception of Vaccaro and Frees, the voice talent line-up is decidedly less-starry than previous Rankin/Bass efforts (spotting the celebrity voices is half the fun of these outings).

 

It’s a speedy entry, running only about 23 minutes, but with so many elements lifted from other stories, along with the sometimes downbeat story elements, it’s not surprising that Nestor, the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey is one of the less popular Rankin/Bass Christmas offerings.

FROSTY’S WINTER WONDERLAND

This was a R/B sequel I had very little personal background on. Did I see it when it first came out in 1976? If I did, it didn’t register (and thank god this disc doesn’t have that John Goodman—again!—Frosty sequel). Starring the voice talents of Andy Griffith, Shelley Winters, Paul Frees and Irish tenor Dennis Day, Frosty’s Winter Wonderland a delightful, speedy sequel to its more famous predecessor.

Narrated by Andy Griffith Frosty’s Winter Wonderland tells the story of Frosty’s (voice talent of Jackie Vernon) return to all his friends south of the North Pole, once the first big snowstorm of the season arrives. There, he still enjoys playing with his friends, but soon, Frosty becomes sad because he’s often left alone, particularly at night, when all the kids return home. 

Hoping to solve the problem, the children promise they’ll make Frosty a wife, creating Crystal (voice talent of Shelley Winters) out of the newly fallen snow. But she’s lifeless without a little bit of magic, which Frosty provides with a gift of love: a bouquet of snow flowers he quickly makes.

When Frosty asks Crystal to marry him, Parson Brown (voice talent of Dennis Day), a snowman himself, is made to marry the chilly couple. But danger looms for Frosty and Crystal, because Jack Frost (voice talent of Paul Frees) is jealous of Frosty’s fame and the love he receives from all the children. And so he decides to steal Frosty’s magic hat, and return him to just a plain, ordinary, inert snowman.

Of course it’s great to have the gentle-voiced Jackie Vernon back as Frosty, and Dennis Day adds a touch of Yuletide cheer with his sterling voice, but I was most pleased with Andy Griffith’s inclusion here in the Rankin/Bass world. He’s a perfect choice for this kind of voice work. 

Griffith, a natural-born storyteller who first shot to fame doing comic monologues, is marvelously free and easy with his narration, bringing a lot of oomph and energy to his line readings. He also gets to sing a few songs, and if you’ve ever heard him sing on The Andy Griffith Show, you know what a pleasant voice he has.

Shelley Winters (if you can believe it) is actually subdued here. As a huge fan of this underrated actress, I’m not sure I want a subdued Shelley Winters, but she does manage a girlish, sweet delivery that fits the character. The story is logically set out, and it moves swiftly from song to song, while the animation is wonderfully evocative of that later Rankin/Bass house style (I love the heavy outlines on the characters). A charming, effective sequel.

 

‘TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Another Rankin/Bass traditional animation short that often gets overlooked, 1974’s ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas takes just a kernel of an idea from the famous poem by Clement Clarke Moore (“‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”), and expands it into a charming little story of Father Mouse (voice talent George Gobel) and Joshua Trundle (voice talent of Joel Grey), a clockmaker, who must find a way to bring Christmas and Santa back to Junctionville.

Evidently, someone wrote a letter to the town paper, denouncing Santa as a fake, which got back to Santa, who returned all of the town’s letters to him, unopened. Father Mouse figures out that his egg-head son Albert (voice talent of Tammy Grimes) is the culprit, and, with Joshua, devises a plan for the clockmaker to fashion a huge clock which will play a song to Santa, letting him know that the town still cares about him. But Albert inadvertently messes up the clockworks, and no one knows for sure if Santa will arrive Christmas Eve night.

While the traditional cel animation for ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas may not be the best example of Rankin/Bass’ art, the simple, effective songs included in the short are entirely in keeping with their successful track record. Maury Laws’ Give Your Heart a Try and Even a Miracle Needs a Hand are lovely, and help put this minor effort over. 

The story may not be as artfully constructed as others in their canon, but the voice work is quite good (it’s nice to hear Gobel’s singing voice again), and the simple message—believe, and do what your heart tells you to do—won’t hurt any child who hears it. Nor any adult, I suppose.

RUDOLPH AND FROSTY’S CHRISTMAS IN JULY

The only clunker in the Christmas Television Favorites collection, 1979’s Rudolph and Frosty’s Christmas in July is a largely unsuccessful attempt to mix two beloved Rankin/Bass holiday fixtures—Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman—and graft them onto a Fourth of July storyline that’s as convoluted as it is unpleasant.

Apparently, Rudolph (voice talent of Billie Mae Richards) got his shiny nose from Lady Boreal (voice talent of Nelli Bellflower), who ruled over the North Pole before Santa (voice talent of Mickey Rooney) came, and in opposition to the evil Winterbolt (voice talent of Paul Frees). Rudolph was given his magical nose to aid Santa through one of Winterbolt’s evil schemes; for his crime, he was put into a deep sleep by Lady Boreal. But he has now awakened, and he plans on taking out Rudolph and Santa, and he’s going to use Frosty (voice talent of Jackie Vernon) as the patsy.

Knowing that Frosty wants to help out Milton (voice talent of Red Buttons) the ice cream salesman, marry Laine Lorraine (voice talent of Shelby Flint), Winterbolt offers to give Frosty, his wife Crystal (voice talent of Shelley Winters) and their children special crystals that will stave off melting. You see, Frosty wants to take Rudolph down to Laine’s mother’s circus, where a big draw is needed to keep the circus in Lily Loraine’s (voice talent of Ethel Merman) hands. 

But Winterbolt has no intention of letting Frosty or his family stay frozen. He rigs it so they’ll stay past the July Fourth fireworks (when the crystals wear off), and gets Scratcher (voice talent of Alan Sues), a mangy reindeer fired by Santa, to implicate Rudolph in a crime (stealing the circus’ receipts), so his noselight will go out forever. Will our heroes save the day?

You can’t really blame Rankin/Bass for trying to branch out and hit the other holidays with their stop-motion efforts (hey, if the networks had their checkbooks out, why not?), but the obvious, clumsy grafting of Christmas favorites Rudolph and Frosty onto the Fourth of July just doesn’t work. 

The plot is entirely too clunky and busy for little kids to appreciate, and most of the characters sound and act like rip-offs from other Rankin/Bass efforts (Winterbolt is Winter Warlock; Milton is Fred Astaire’s postman from Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town).

What’s more, the basic notion of not only adding a totally superfluous back story to Rudolph’s red nose (hey…I thought he was just born with it?), along with the scurrilous notion of Rudolph committing a crime (I know he didn’t, but little kids don’t get that subtlety), is really beyond the pale. 

Worst of all, the songs are sub-par…not to mention some of the celebrity warbling, as well (I love the Merm, but she’s way off her game, here). Justly obscure, this later Rankin/Bass effort is a big misfire. Skip this one, and go ask Gramps where the TV Guide is for other holiday television fare.

Yogi's First Christmas: Wondering Where Past Cartoon Icons Go When the Love's Gone

So where do beloved cartoon characters go, when they're no longer needed or wanted by a new generation?  I was thinking about that today, while Christmas shopping for my granddaughter.  Apparently, she's all about Mickey and Minnie Mouse, and thanks to the evil merchandising overlords at the House of Mouse, every single store I stopped at had more than enough M & M items to choose from--at a premium price, too, I might add.

 

What I didn't see, were so many of the beloved animated characters I grew up with as a kid.  Where was Popeye or Fred Flintstone or even Bugs Bunny--I thought for sure I'd see him in some form of holiday commodity.  Of course I'm aware of why these once-familiar icons go dormant.  Simply put:  if there's no promotion, there's no product.  

If Fred Flintstone isn't featured in a new TV or movie project, you're less likely to see him on the Walmart shelves.  And anyone can find old timey toon characters grafted onto virtually anything, from coffee mugs to Tshirts to fridge magnets, if they search online.  But try and find a Yogi Bear board game at Target and you're S.O.L..

 

Due to money spent on promotion; due to the level of sustained popularity in various media over the decades; and due to the timelessness of the characters themselves, a pop culture winner like Mickey Mouse will probably chug along for decades to come, while a funny goof like Yogi Bear continues to disappear into relative obscurity.  As most of us real-life characters do, as well. 

Luckily, the actual physical reality of these character-based products allow them the chance to be handed down from generation to generation, or be rediscovered by the uninitiated.  If my kid remembers playing with one of my childhood Yogi Bear Avon soap bottles, while watching Boomerang reruns of The Yogi Bear Show, well...there's at least a chance that kid might pass on the good memories and have his kid watch a Yogi Bear episode.  Or maybe a Christmas special. 

 

A good-enough Hanna-Barbera late entry for the smarter-than-the-average-type bear, Yogi's First Christmas, starring Yogi, Boo Boo, and Ranger Smith, with some special guest stars including Huckleberry Hound, Snagglepuss (even), Augie Doggie and Doggie Daddy, and Cindy Bear (and let's not forget the fat man himself, Santy Claus), premiered in sydication back on November 21st, 1980. 

Almost critic-proof, Yogi's First Christmas isn't rocket science: it puts some H-B superstars together in a Yuletide-themed story filled with a lot of gags, and the Christmas-minded small fry―even if they've never heard of these characters―will respond favorably (we hope). 

Christmas-time in Yellystone Park (they, um...actually misspell the iconic "Jellystone Park" here). Pic-a-nic-stealin' bear Yogi (voice talent of Daws Butler), and his little buddy, Boo Boo (voice talent of Don Messick) have never had a Christmas celebration before, because they always hibernate right through the holiday time. This year, however, their slumber is disturbed by friends Snagglepuss, Huckleberry Hound, Augie Doggie (voice talents of Daws Butler), and Doggie Daddy (voice talent of John Stephenson), when Ranger Smith (voice talent of Don Messick) drives the gang over to Jellystone's Winter Lodge, where the beginnings of a music-filled, loud Winter Carnival stir the sleepy Yogi and Boo Boo from their den. 

The scarcely-frequented Lodge, owned by Mrs. Throckmorton (voice talent of Janet Waldo), is about to be closed due to the tourist-scaring, Christmas-hating antics of Herman the Hermit (voice talent of Don Messick), who lives in the mountains above the Lodge. Yogi, desperate to have his first Christmas, decides to help entertain Mrs. Throckmorton, falling *ss-backwards into clover, as usual, as he unwittingly battles Herman and Mrs. Throckmorton's snotty little nephew, Snively (voice talent of Marilyn Schreffler).

If I saw Yogi's First Christmas when it premiered in first-run syndication back in 1980, I don't remember doing so (I was 15-years-old...so I may have watched it on the sly).  I've watched it several times since then (something about that VHS cover always grabbed my older kids), but even if I hadn't, there's an air of familiarity to it that's not hard to place.  Yogi's First Christmas has elements of at least a half-a-dozen other Christmas movies and specials incorporated into its storyline, from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas to Disney's The Snowball Express, to Der Bingle's White Christmas. 

And quite frankly, who cares?  I'm not looking for originality in something called Yogi's First Christmas.  Fans of H-B who grew up on holiday-dial offerings like this aren't going to find too much to complain about here because they already have a nostalgic soft spot for vintage TV specials like Yogi's First Christmas. 

In those pre-cable, pre-VCR days, being home for Christmas break (yaaaassss...Christmas break―my Hanukah-celebrating best friend next door called it the same thing) meant watching a lot of TV.  And usually, in addition to your regular series that featured Christmas-themed episodes (winner hands-down was The Odd Couple's Christmas Carol take-off), a whole slew of one-offs would hit the networks and local stations (through syndication), as Yogi's First Christmas certainly did, year after year. 

 

As for the little kids today who might watch Yogi's First Christmas, they're not going to care one bit that it was made in 1980, nor that it's derivative as hell. All they care about is whether or not it will make them laugh and keep their interest for 90 minutes. Which Yogi's First Christmas does.

Surprisingly, some heavyweight talents are behind the scenes here, including veteran animator/director Ray Patterson (Dumbo, Fantasia, Tom and Jerry, Spider-Man), and Tony Award-winning (for How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying) scripter Willie Gilbert. That kind of professionalism doesn't save Yogi's First Christmas from the usual (and at least in this particular effort, frankly embarrassing) continuity flubs that dogged the quickly and cheaply-made H-B product from this time period.

 

But it does ensure that the product moves surely through its admittedly thin story, with a modicum of gags that work well within the story's framework. Even though some of the songs are recycled from other H-B efforts, they're innocuous and sometimes even a little fun (Boo Boo's recycled Hope is a sweet effort, and Cindy Bear's tune about kissing Yogi under the mistletoe was an up-tempo charmer), while the accompany montages are frequently quite clever (I liked the one where Yogi turns into a star constellation and then a snowflake). 

Animation isn't all Fantasias and Pixar® "triumphs," you know. It's also the meat-and-potatoes sked-fillers like Yogi's First Christmas, a cheaply-produced romp that may look skimpy to some, but which made a whole bunch of kids back in 1980 very happy to be sitting in front of their Curtis-Mathis and Sony Trinitron sets. And it plays just fine, 45 years later, on a disc in front of your 75-inch Vizio.  I wonder if this Warner Archive disc is available at Walmart....