Pam’s Pictorama Post: I’ve had this interesting advertising book in my possession for a number of weeks and am just getting around to sharing it with you all. Obviously I purchased it for the Felix page, but I do find the whole publication of interest.
For starters I am impressed with the idea that these were sent out en masse to theaters to encourage bookings. For all of it’s heft and embossed-ness it doesn’t go into any detail about the packages you would be ordering for your theater. These were all short subjects, like Felix, so each page highlights a topic.
Frontispiece and introduction.
The opening page, with a photo and a letter from E. W. Hammond. While I cannot seem to trace his title over at Educational Films, I have run across him advertising Felix films previously. The link to two rollicking pages advertising Felix cartoons can be found here. In his letter at the front of this volume he refers to the proven success of these shorts. He writes, It is a group of pictures without an element of a gamble – backed by seven years of specialized experience – a product of proven value.
I am giving you a slide show to page through the entire holding at the end of the post but want to highlight a few. I will start with Felix, although he is found toward the back of the volume. These years were Felix in his heyday and 26 new one-reel cartoons were in the offing. He strums his banjo and eyes the girl cat, Kitty, peering out around a building. There is a frowning faced moon on the other side. Felix is perched on a bit of fence but I like the way the buildings curve in around behind him like they want to break loose and frolic. It is a jolly nighttime scene with stars in the sky and all the buildings lit up – occupants no doubt listening to Felix’s serenade for better or worse. A careful look shows that his snout, as it were, is the same pink as the buildings. Someone named E. Ritt claims illustration credit and that is someone other than who has executed the other images. Such popularity means patronage and profit…
These are the ones I am curious about.
Beyond Felix there are a few other highlights for me. 12 One-Reel Curiosities The Movie Side-show catches my eye. This one is also signed by E. Ritt and here his imagination has been let loose a bit. We have a tree with eyes watching a witch stir a caldron producing smoke which reveals owl eyes, and a three-headed cat eyes us! A spicy dish concocted from many oddities gathered from all corners of the world, and served with a dash of wit and humor. Oh man, I wonder how they delivered on this?
Dorothy was already in her 20’s here.
I like the page of Dorothy Devore comedies – she’s shown with this nice teddy bear. The artist of the spread seems to be someone else and they are identified as E.R.H. It states, A girl comedy start — a real star — is a rare asset. Well, I like that! This was toward the end of Dorothy’s working life. Wikipedia says she stopped making films in 1930.
And who is the girl on the sax?
There is a sort of centerspread which has Cameo Comedies on one side and 12 One-Reel Lyman H. Howe’s Hodge-Podge, a medley of clever ideas offering more variety to the foot than any other sing reel on the market. Across these two pages we see everything from a girl with her sax to camels, African-type natives and a coolie to whales and the Sphinx. I assume these were largely cartoons – a fact also confirmed by Wikipedia.
A smattering of cartoon images.
So quite a year, ’27-’28. A fraction of these films may still exist – luckily with a good survival rate on Felix. I’ll likely never really get to judge the one-reel curiosities, although you never know what will turn up.
Pam’s Pictorama Post: As I write on this (chilly) October morning I have a large standing plastic Santa and suitcases wedged behind me, piles of dry cleaning around me, and a mini mountain of off-season clothing tucked into plastic bins within view. These bins are of course filled with clothing that, due to the pandemic and not traveling into the office – or even seeing much of anyone – I haven’t touched in two seasons. I did have a moment of thinking I should just get rid of all of it.
It should be noted that this tower of tubs is so beloved by Cookie, who now spends her day lounging on top of them, lording it over everyone else in the apartment how high up she is, that I have decided that when this is all over I need to buy her a tall cat tree. I dislike them and we have so little space, but it makes her excessively happy.
Cookie on an earlier and somewhat shorter incarnation of the clothing tubs, during initial drying.
When I left Pictorama readers last week we were drying out Kim’s notes on our visit to the whorehouse museum in Butte, Montana by spreading them across our one room studio apartment. (That post about our trip to Butte and the story that came out of it can be found here. The beginning of this three part tale can be found here.) I failed to mention that, in addition to the clothes that were destroyed by the storm, the rest were damp from having sat in the water filled basement – so those also were spread out here and the combination giving the apartment a distinct musty smell. I bleached cleaned the locker and the objects that encountered the water and I thought I was done. However, a few days later the building required that everything be removed from the basement for the duration of “several weeks” while they put in new dry wall, paint, etc. And so we find ourselves more crammed than usual.
Ida also forced the hand of two leaks in our ceiling and we have the delight of spending the coming week intimately acquainted with workmen tearing out these sections of ceiling and making repairs. Sometimes I marvel at how much can really go on in our 600 square feet. I laugh when I look at tiny houses and think they have nothing on us here on 86th Street in Manhattan. Anyway, an industrial dehumidifier is on loan from the super and runs day and night. At first I was dumping gallons of water daily. It seems to be doing its job, decreasing amounts of water are disposed of twice a day, and it will disappear with the ceiling repairs. (Blackie loves the dehumidifier, Cookie hates it. It is loud.)
Cookie, the Queen of Everything, enjoying her perch atop of the containers.
I am very aware that although annoying, our damages are nominal compare to that of others suffering from this and other recent storms. However, this apartment which is perched at the very top of an aging white brick building, which was erected in 1960, seems to attract leaking and flooding and pipe issues which we fight, repair and hold at bay ongoing. This is merely another in a long line of repairs, all of which we tell ourselves must be the ultimate one.
Still and all, as I pointed out last week, part of becoming intimate with the basement relegated possessions has had a silver lining. For me, it came in the form of a long forgotten oil painting. It is mine and by this I mean I painted it. I have shed much if not most of my artwork aside from my photographs which are tucked into boxes. However, a few favorite paintings are tucked under the bed and this one was in the basement. It is largely unscathed by the experience although I have cleaned it up a bit after its probably decades long sojourn in the basement.
I have painted since childhood. I learned to use oil paint in high school and I knew I had found my medium in paint. I love the smell, the texture, the colors and really just about everything associated with it. The stink of the paint, turpentine and linseed oil immediately relaxes me and takes my mind elsewhere, even if I just catch a whiff as I walk past the Art Student’s League on my way to work. I have also always drawn and I began life and figure drawing also in high school. In college and beyond this slowly morphed into a long series of self-portraits. This is one of the last I did, back in the apartment prior to this one where I had space to paint, and it shows me in bed with my beloved cat Otto who frequently slept on my pillow in that fashion. My other cat Zippy on top of me. I don’t smoke (never have) so the cigarette is just an addition to the composition.
Rare extant oil painting by yours truly.
Lack of space when making the move to this apartment meant that painting eventually gave way to photography – early process photography including daguerreotypes and platinum prints. But, as they say, that is another story.
I find that I have enjoyed looking at this painting, currently propped up against some boxes by the front door. One day Kim suggested, out of the blue, that we hang it. Funny, I had been thinking the same thing. Some rearranging of photos to be done, but we think we found a spot for it where a wooden mask from Bhutan currently resides.
Meanwhile, even before the contents of the locker migrated up to the apartment, one day Kim wandered out of the apartment and downstairs where he retrieved an entire box devoted to story boards for a film of one of his stories that was never made. It is dated 1983 and I share the first few pages here. It is made up of a compilation of a number of stories that appeared in various publications over the years (I remember one reprinted in his compilation Beyond the Pale, one about a potato headed boy) with the goal of tying them together into a Deitch flavored film.
This was in conjunction with Brian Yuzna, of sci-fi and horror film fame, during a fabled stint in North Carolina, in the pre-Pam days of yore when Kim lead a somewhat nomadic life down South, dotted with intervals in Los Angeles. It seems to have reached a zenith with Brian turning his hand to his film Re-Animator (Kim makes a small appearance at the end) and somehow Beatifica Somnambula never being finished. However, Kim regaled me with stories about props that were constructed, giant fiberglass potato head and others.
Kim Deitch story board from Beatifica Somnambula.Kim Deitch story board from Beatifica Somnambula.Kim Deitch story board from Beatifica Somnambula.
Oddly Kim had been mulling over a bit of business from this odyssey for a future story – not the upcoming book, but the one after that – so the rediscovery and chance to paw through the box of story boards was especially welcomed. I won’t spoil any future story surprises, but when you eventually read Tales of the Midnight Demon think of this post.
I guess all this to say that creatively what is made is never completely lost. I am mulling how in a small way I might start painting again, although paint covered cat paws immediately come to mind. While I will be (very) relieved to have our storage restored to us and maybe have the apartment back to a semblance of normal before Thanksgiving, I think I will bring Santa upstairs this year. Maybe instead of a Christmas tree, we’ll get that cat condo and decorate it this year.
Pam's Pictorama 