He Was Hadji

Whenever Hanna-Barbera had kid characters in the 1950s, adults who had come from radio did the voices.

Things changed when Jonny Quest came along in 1964.

Someone made the decision to go with boy actors to play boy roles instead of hiring Dick Beals or Nancy Wible or other adults who approximated child voices.

There was a real danger in this (no, we don’t mean Toby Danger). Boys age. And when a boy has aged enough and his voice changes, he’s aged himself out of a role. This didn’t happen on Quest simply because it lasted only one season.

Tim Matthieson was hired for the main role and for the role of his friend and companion, Hadji, the studio cast actor Danny Bravo.

Bravo played Michael Littlebear, a young orphaned native boy, in 20th Century Fox’s For the Love of Mike, released in 1960. The screen credit read “Introducing Danny Bravo as Michael” as if he were a brand-new actor. But that wasn’t the case at all. Some pieces in print about the time the film appeared in theatres or in production as The Golden Touch gave his real name—Danny Zaldivar.

TV viewers might have seen him as a Mexican boy in a 1959 episode of G.E. Theatre called “Beyond the Mountains” (the syndicated TV Key service said his performance made the show worthwhile) or on Alcoa Theatre the following year in “The Storm.” He even did comedy in a parody called “They Went Thataway” on New Comedy Showcase on CBS in the summer of 1960.

The Windsor Star’s entertainment editor had this to say about him in The Love of Mike:

If Danny Bravo ever decides to try to realize his original ambition to become a matador, there’s a great chance the world many yet see another Manuelito in future years—this time from Los Angeles, California. Despite the fact that he has graced this sphere for only 12 years, Danny has all the determination and drive necessary to bring him to the top of any profession he chooses.

Doug Wildey, the creator of the series, talked to Comics Scene magazine about the series. He didn’t explain how Bravo came to be cast, but did reveal to writer Will Murray how and why he invented Hadji:

It was while creating the early cast that Wildey ran into his first creative disagreement on Jonny Quest. Someone at Hanna-Barbera suggested adding a bulldog to the cast for toy licensing purposes. Thus was born the irrepressible Bandit.
“I fought against Bandit quite a while,” Wildey recalls. “He was a cartoon dog. It was a little bit too unrealistic for the characters. As soon as they put in Bandit, I immediately created Hadji. I felt very strongly that we needed someone besides a dog. It’s simply not natural for a kid to talk to grown-ups on the same level.”
The final addition to the cast, Hadji was a Hindu boy with undefined mystical power. Although he first appeared in the second episode, the story of how he saved Dr. Quest’s life and joined the team wasn’t told until episode #7, "Calcutta Adventure.” He was mysteriously absent from other segments. Actually, these were pre-Hadji episodes shown out of production sequence.
Hadji was loosely based on '40s film actor Sabu. "Later on," Wildey recalls, “when we were auditioning for voices on the series, Sabu's son, Paul Sabu, showed up to audition.”

What did Bravo have to say about Jonny Quest? Nothing I’ve been able to find. During the show’s original run, Joe Barbera did all the talking to newspapers; you can find some of those columns reproduced on this blog. No one seemed interested in talking with the actors, less so as the show’s ratings dropped and the series was sacrificed to keep the merchandise-heavy The Flintstones on the air by switching their time slots. I’ve found one unbylined blurb in the Buffalo Evening News, March 28, 1964. I presume this was a PR handout from Screen Gems.

Danny Bravo, the “voice” of Hadji, the Hindu boy who uses his knowledge of the mysteries of the east to great advantage in Screen Gems’ new animated adventure series, Jonny Quest (Ch. 7, Fridays, 7:30 PM), began his career as an actor at the ripe old age of nine. He is in demand in many TV series because of his Latin heritage and his knowledge of foreign accents.

Danny appeared in a few more supporting roles in various TV shows in the 1960s. An unusual “credit” shows up in the Torrence, California paper, The Daily Breeze, of April 30, 1965 in a story about an awards ceremony at a high school in Lawndale. One of the presenters was “Danny Bravo, star of the television series ‘Mamie McPheeters’.”

Star of what?? Did the show actually exist? Maybe it had a dog named Bandit. (Late note: See Top Cat James' clarification about the series in the comments section).

Bravo returned to Hanna-Barbera in The New Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1968-69 TV season) and vanished from view.

I can’t confirm unsourced information on the internet, so I don’t know where Bravo went after that or what he’s doing today. What I can confirm is we’ll have a post on Jonny Quest’s 60th “birthday.”

Remember, there’s a link to Jonny Quest posts in the right-side column.

Not a Groupie For Loopy

Hanna-Barbera debuted two cartoon series in 1959. One is my favourite—the Quick Draw McGraw Show.

The other is Loopy de Loop.

I’m afraid I’m not a fan of Loopy. He’s a French-Canadian wolf who’s not one of those Disney-type bad wolves. He’s a good wolf. And . . . well, that’s it. Hanna-Barbera managed to stretch this one-dimensional idea into 48 cartoons from 1959 to 1965. He starred in a theatrical cartoon series with a TV animation budget.

The reason I’ve broken my Loopy silence, all the more remarkable because this blog is more or less inactive, is I somehow stumbled onto the first Loopy cartoon. It opened so full of promise. I really like the background at the start.


The artwork is from Fernando Montealegre. I like this because he’s incorporated flatness with some perspective. This, by the way, would have been the first cartoon from Hanna-Barbera Productions seen in colour, as the TV series were aired (in 1959) in black-and-white.

Poor Mike Maltese. In 1959, he wrote 78 cartoons for television (the entire Quick Draw series, one Huckleberry Hound and one Yogi Bear), and then had to write this one, Wolf Hounded. He cobbled together a story with some familiar situations. The sexually-aroused grandma in Red Hot Riding Hood. The jerkish pigs from The Turn Tale Wolf (thanks to Jonathan Wilson for the correction). The “helpless” girl who can beat up someone in self-defence from The Dover Boys. Oh, and Loopy’s aspiration to be a lady-charmer comes from any number of Pepé LePew cartoons (also written by le guesse who?). I’m not saying these are the sources, but they have plot similarities with this cartoon.

Another Monty background.



Something the cartoon has in its favour is the casting of June Foray. It seems odd that Joe Barbera didn’t get Jean Vander Pyl, whom he started employing in 1959. I can’t help but wonder if she voiced Betty in the Flagstones reel about the time she did this. June Foray is a national treasure.

Columbia Pictures had been distributing cartoons made by UPA. Someone at Columbia must have realised this was a silly idea. After all, Columbia had a piece of Hanna-Barbera. Why not have them make theatrical cartoons instead? That’s what happened, although Columbia evidently had a deal permitting them to re-issue UPA shorts it had already put in theatres.

Here’s a full-page ad taken out in several trades.



The most hilarious thing in the ad isn’t the sell-job on Loopy, but the utterly inept drawings in the box for the old Screen Gems Columbia Favorites with the duck and hunter from Wacky Quacky, and the Indian and moose from Topsy Turkey. (Maybe even funnier is advertising “Another Travelark.” Yeah, theatre owners, we haven’t figured out what it is, but get the film anyway).

Maybe you’re one of those people who likes Loopy de Loop. Someone at Motion Picture Magazine guffawed over him. Here’s a review from the December 16, 1959 issue.

WOLF HOUNDED. Columbia Loopy de Loop Cartoon. 7m. This introduces a new cartoon character, a French wolf, who gets his fairy tales all mixed up and meets his match in Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother, who much to his distraction, falls for him and causes him to flee. EXCELLENT.

This is the same publication which gave an “excellent” rating to the insufferable UPA short Picnics Are Fun (reviewed somewhere on the Tralfaz blog). Meanwhile, it only gave a “good” to Drag-Along Droopy, my favourite of all the Droopy cartoons, and dismissed Friz Freleng’s High Diving Hare and the Maltese-written Real Gone Woody as “fair.” But it also gave an “excellent” to Avery’s Billy Boy and Three Little Pups as well as Gene Deitch’s stylish The Juggler of Our Lady. These strike me as accurate ratings but, of course, taste in cartoons is subjective.

One other thing the Loopy cartoons did was eliminate the Capital Hi-Q and Langlois Filmusic background music at Hanna-Barbera. Hoyt Curtin was brought in to write a library of cues for Loopy. I love the stock music, but in-house compositions became the policy at H-B and resulted in excellent scores for The Jetsons, Jonny Quest and other series.

And now, you’re in for a treat (?)

Here’s a version of the Loopy theme song with lyrics. No doubt the intended kiddie audience would have said “Loopy who?” so to increase saleability, the 78 is “Yogi Bear Introduces Loopy De Loop.” Everyone knew who Yogi was.

Kids would have been unhappy to find Yogi was an imposter. As this is a Golden Record, Daws Butler is nowhere to be heard. I originally thought it was Gil Mack, a fine New York radio actor, but it seems to me it’s Frank Milano, who provided some voices in Total TeleVision cartoons and who recorded an LP as Yogi, his final album before his death, actually. I will allow you to determine how he performs as “Yogi The Bear.”

Daws Butler: Living the Characters

Daws Butler once told interviewer Larry King that he did not do “voices.” He did “characters.”

If anyone was the glue that held the Hanna-Barbera cartoons together in the early years, it was Daws Butler. He voiced almost all the starring characters before The Flintstones came along in 1960. Even then he auditioned for Fred Flintstone and, the following year, was briefly picked as the voice of Top Cat.

Whatever he picked up about acting with one’s voice, starting on the stage in Chicago in the mid-‘30s, he passed on to anyone who asked for his help. His cartoon career began after the war; he gave credit to MGM director Tex Avery for picking him (though it is understood he narrated a cartoon for Columbia/Screen Gems before that).

Through the 1950s, when he wasn’t performing in theatrical cartoons, he and Stan Freberg were almost a pair, working on the puppet show A Time For Beany, a bunch of records for Capitol and two radio shows. He deserved a writing credit on Freberg’s 1957 variety show but never got one. Then there were numerous animated commercials on TV that Daws also wrote and lent some voices that would be familiar to Hanna-Barbera and Jay Ward fans not too much later.

Daws talked about the Hanna-Barbera characters in a number of interviews over the years. Here’s one from the Evansville Press of Oct. 30, 1966. By then, others had taken over the lead roles as H-B moved into Saturday morning programming.

Virtually Living the Part Is Key to Success Says ‘Voice’ of 10 Weekly TV Cartoon Shows
By BILL LYON
Tri-State Editor
MADISONVILLE, Ky.—You’ve heard Yogi Bear boast of being “better than the average bear.” [sic]
And Mr. Jinks vowing “I hate meeces to pieces.”
And Snagglepuss with his “Exit, stage right.”
Now meet the man behind those voices and expressions, as well as those of a dozen other TV cartoon characters. His name is Daws Butler. He’s a short, barrel-chested man with shaggy eyebrows and a face as elastically expressive as his amazing voice.
Chances are you’ve never heard of Mr. Butler before.
But you, and especially your children, hear him five hours a week on television. He does the voices for 10 different half-hour cartoon shows—Quick-Draw McGraw, Dixie, Hokey Wolf, Blabber-Mouse, Super Snooper, Baba-Looey, Snuffles, Huckleberry Hound, Augie Doggie, Fibber Fox and a few others in addition to the three mentioned previously.
Butler also handles the voices for Cap’n Crunch and Mr. Wiggle in the cereal and Jello commercials.
He was in Madisonville the last week with his wife visiting his sister-in-law and her husband, Dr. and Mrs. Selby Coffman.
Butler estimates that since broke in the cartoon field in 1951 with Walter Lantz strips he has provided the voices for over 600 cartoons.
The secret to all those different voice characterizations?
“Virtually living the character," Butler said. ”If I had to act them out physically, I could. When I do Yogi Bear I almost walk like he does. Mr. Jinks the cat talks very slowly. So when I do him my whole body relaxes and goes limp.”
Yogi Bear is probably the most famous of Butler’s voices—he’s been translated into 19 languages in 32 countries, and for a time was the only American show seen on TV in Cuba. But Butler’s personal favorite seems to be Mr. Jinks, the cat who spends his time in a frustrating chase after those two mice, Pixie and Dixie.
“He’s the most elastic character. I talk around his lines and have made him exceptionally verbose . . . while occasionally butchering the English language," Butler said.
Contrary to popular belief, voices of cartoon characters are not dubbed in after the animated strips have been made.
“Most people think that the way it’s done, but it would be too confining. Most of the personality a cartoon character has comes from his voice and his attitude of expression,” Butler pointed out.
“So we read the script and the sound track is made first. The writers and animators watch us read, and pick up some additional ideas for illustrations and lines from our facial expressions. That’s why early radio was such great training because you were acting out the lines to put more feeling in them," Butler continued.
Butler’s next project will be the voices of the scarecrow, tin woodman and the wizzard [sic] in an MGM adaptation of “The Wizard of Oz." It will be released in January. Mel Blanc will do the voice of the cowardly lion.
"The big advantage to doing voices is that, unlike an actor, you don't get stereotyped. I can play a prince in shows like Aesop and Son or Fractured Fables then to Yogi Bear or Quick-Draw McGraw," Butler pointed out.
Daws and his wife live in Beverly Hills. They have four sons—David, Don, Paul and Charles.
“They’ve grown up now, but they’ll be having kids who can watch cartoons on TV, and maybe listen to their grandfather," Butler smiled.

Now, for your listening pleasure, here’s Daws in one of his early West Coast projects. Belda Records were 78s that came with a comic book to read along with the dialogue on the record. The comics were drawn by Tubby Millar, a writer of Warner Bros. cartoons in the ‘30s You can see one page of the artwork to the right. And we have the sound from “Chirpy Cricket,” copyrighted on April 20, 1947. The story is by Frank Bonham.


Here’s an interesting bit from Chuck Cecil’s The Swingin’ Years, a big band show that aired, among a number of places, on Armed Forces Radio. Listen to the minute-long drop-in at 17:05. You’ll recognise the voice. I don’t know the context behind the routine.



And from the late Earl Kress comes this 1986 walk around Daws' studio behind his home.

Huck Shines in the Sunshine State

Not too long after The Huckleberry Hound Show debuted on the week of September 29, 1958, newspaper columnists began praising the series.

An early thumbs-up for Huck and his gang came from the entertainment section of the Tampa Times, where cartoons aired on WFLA-TV on Thursdays in the early evening. The entertainment page on October 18, 1958 included this anonymous review of all the Kellogg’s sponsored shows that aired over the course of the week, but focused on Huck.

Huckleberry Hound Delightful Cartoon
Designed to delight the youngsters, the 6 to 6:30 P.M. spot, Mondays through Fridays on channel 8, will undoubtedly find lots of grownups looking in. The varied program brings everything from a beguiling little cartoon of a hound . . . to the great gift of the imagination Superman.
Most of the shows are time-tested favorites of the young-in-heart TV watcher, but the cartoon doggie, Huckleberry Hound, is new and the most enchanting cartoon character to come along since Mickey Mouse.
Huckleberry Hound, complete with a 10-gallon hat and a side arm worn about his fat little middle, is the delightful creation of Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera, who produced and directed the Tom and Jerry cartoons.
Satire in the sketches may go over the heads of the tots in front of the TV . . . but the grownups will love it. And the youngsters will find enough enjoyment in the characters which include Yogi Bear, his patient little friend, Boo Boo Bear; a cantankerous cat, Mr. Jinx and two mice, Dixie and Pixie.
Huck and his friends are appearing every Thursday in the 6 to 6:30 series.
Monday's segment of the show takes viewers to Sherwood Forest, where Robin Hood defends the honor of ladies' fair and strives to keep England free.
On Tuesdays Woody Woodpecker is the star performer. Superman and Wild Bill Hickok share in Wednesday slot, and come Fridays . . . It's Roy Rogers.

Even before this, on the other side of Florida, the Miami News cheered “Wonderful cartoons” next to its highlight listing of the Huck show in its Oct. 9, 1958 edition. The series aired in that city on Thursdays, originally at 7 p.m., on WCKT-TV.

By the end of his show’s first season, Huckleberry Hound was a full-blown fad. This assessment was published in the News on August 13, 1959.

OFFICIAL HONORS
Adults Like Huck Hound
By KRISTINE DUNN
TV Editor of the Miami News
The college kids of the nation are officially adopting Huckleberry Hound.
Huckleberry Hound, on Channel 7 at 8 tonight, is that Southern-drawling pooch originally designed to amuse the kids.
He's the pen-and-ink child of Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera, the creaters [sic] of Tom and Jerry. Tom the cat and Jerry the mouse have entertained movie-goers during intermissions for the past 20 years. They also brought MGM seven Academy Awards.
But Huck's philosophy—and his friend, Yogi Bear—caught the fancy and affection of adults.
Right here at The Miami News, in fact, a few of our reporters and editors tote about a lofty disdain for television in general. But four words—"It’s Huckleberry Hound time"—will send them sprinting for the tube.
The college kids are proclaiming their esteem.
The University of Washington held a "Huck Hound Day" on campus and 11,000 students joined his fan club. Southern Methodist and Texas Christian Universities have dedicated days to Huck this October.
At UCLA, Alpha Tau Omega Fraternity initiated him and hung his portrait over the fireplace.
Homecoming Theme
In the Big Ten, Huckleberry Hound is the theme of Ohio State's homecoming celebration.
All the admiration isn't Ivy-League, either.
Bars have been named for him; poker games adjourned for him; airplanes decorated with his picture and speed limits broken for him.
Why?
"Huck is put upon, embarrassed, taken advantage of and thrust into horrendous situations," said one professor. "But he never seems to mind.”
Perhaps his ability not to mind is the key to his infectious popularity.
Hanna and Barbera also turn out the Ruff and Reddy cartoons seen Saturdays at 10:30 a.m. on Channel 7.
The duo used to produce 50 minutes of Tom and Jerry cartoons per year for MGM. Last television season, they did more than 900 minutes of cartoons.
Their 200 employes use more than a full tank-car of ink a year. It takes 90 separate drawings for one laugh movement, and 10,000 individual drawings for a half-hour cartoon sequence.

There was a Florida connection with the Huck show in late 1960. In a third season Yogi Bear segment (just before he got his own show) entitled “Gleesome Threesome,” where Ranger Smith’s vacation in Miami Beach takes a wrong turn when Yogi and Boo Boo check in to his hotel.

TV stations in Tampa and Miami weren’t the only ones in Florida to air the Huck show in 1958. Both WDBO-TV, Channel 6 in Orlando, broadcast the cartoons at 5:30 on Thursdays. WCTV, serving Tallahassee and environs on Channel 6, put on Huck at 5:30 on Wednesdays.

Toward the end of the first season, when the Huck show was in reruns, a Florida department store chain was a little disingenuous in a Miami News ad exhorting fans to “meet huckleberry hound and his friends.” You might think this was an early example of H-B PR maven Ed Justin getting someone to dress up in a Huck costume for a meet and greet. It was too early for that, though. Instead, what fans met were plush dolls, likely the ones made by the Knickerbocker company which coloured Huck red instead of blue (or black-and-white as seen on TV).

As fads are apt to do, Huck’s came to a slow end. Yes, he “ran” for President of the U.S. in 1960, the same year his show became the first cartoon series AND first syndicated series to be awarded an Emmy. But when plans were announced for a Hanna-Barbera cartoon feature, it was to star Yogi Bear. Huck was nowhere to be found. When McNaught decided to syndicate a funny animal comic in the papers, it starred Yogi Bear, not Huck. And when the 1964 U.S. election rolled around, the H-B presidential opponents were Yogi Bear and Magilla Gorilla.

Huck was still on TV, in reruns and in new series where all kinds of characters were lumped together. He still had drawing power to be handed a starring role in the 1988 TV feature—The Good, the Bad, and Huckleberry Hound (with Daws Butler still around to voice the lead character). But Huck didn’t have an “ark lark”—Yogi did. Huck didn’t have Yahooeys competing in a “Laff-a-Lympics”—Yogi did. He didn’t have an “All-Star Christmas Caper”—well, you get the idea. At least he wasn’t saddled with a teenaged version called “Yo, Huck!” (though he was in the supporting cast of the Yogi mall-rat, er, bear, cartoon).

Ruff and Reddy notwithstanding, The Huckleberry Hound Show was Hanna-Barbera’s breakthrough series, giving the studio lots of positive ink. It was in no small measure due to the star of the show.

Dear Old Dad

Augie Doggie and Doggie Daddy had several forefathers that were combined into a pleasant cartoon series.

Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera partly borrowed from themselves, as they had a father-son dog team in a number of Spike and Tyke cartoons they produced for MGM in the mid-‘50s. But they were borrowing even then, as the real origin comes from the Jimmy Durante-Garry Moore radio show. Old vaudevillian Durante always referred to young comedian Moore as “Junior” and proudly exclaimed “Dat’s my boy who said dat!” Younger fans may not know both Spike and Doggie Daddy took on Durante’s voice and delivery, the former from Daws Butler and the latter from former radio actor-turned-trucker Doug Young. (Butler said he recommended Young because he was worried about the effect doing the raspy voice would have on him).

Augie had a bit of Sylvester, Jr. in him, lamenting “dear old dad’s” behaviour. The Augie series was written by Mike Maltese, who didn’t write for Sylvester, Jr., but was at Warner Bros. when the cartoons were made. (It's been pointed out Maltese wrote Goldimouse and the Three Cats, released a year and several months after he left Warners. The slurping kitten was developed a decade earlier in the Bob McKimson unit by Warren Foster).

And the other influence is Maltese himself. Joe Barbera noted in 1959 that Maltese named all the characters. After “Arf and Arf” was rejected, Maltese named Augie for an in-law. And in most of the cartoons, Maltese used the basic formula he put into Wile E. Coyote at Warners—Doggie Daddy’s best efforts and intentions end in unexpected failure. Daddy also comments to the audience an awful lot. Baba Looey does it, too, and so do Blabbermouse and Fibber Fox, also Maltese creations. The idea certainly helps keep the audience engaged with what’s on the screen.

The Hanna-Barbera cartoons relied on dialogue a lot more once Maltese arrived in late 1958 (Foster joined him several months later from John Sutherland Productions) but there are occasionally some good takes. My favourite is by Dick Lundy in Million-Dollar Robbery (1959). Here’s one from the great George Nicholas, who gave Fred Flintstone some fine expressions. This is from Peck O' Trouble (1960), when Augie's presence startles tax cal-cu-culatin' dad. Whether Hanna timed it this way, or Nicholas used some judgment on his own, or both, I don’t know, but the first drawing is held for roughly 24 frames. The others are shot on twos or threes.



You’ll have to forgive the Italian TV bug on the frames, but these are the nicest ones I can find for the cartoon. It’s evident the Augie cartoons were restored at one time, compared to the washed-out versions with the Boomerang bug that may still be on-line somewhere.

Nicholas’ work is easy to spot here. At times, the characters have the beady eyes and big floppy tongues you see in his animation at H-B. There’s a bit of animation where Doggie Daddy stops running, but his long ears keep going and then fall to the side of his head, as in full animation.

There’s even a favourite Tex Avery bit in this cartoon, where Augie races outside onto a knoll away from the house to make a noise so he doesn’t disturb his dad inside. It’s the same kind of gag Avery used in The Legend of Rock-a-bye Point for Walter Lantz. That cartoon gave Maltese a story credit but it’s likely Tex came up with the gag, since he used it at MGM.

Hanna and/or Barbera once said the Augie Doggie series was a spoof of ‘50s sitcoms, but I can’t think of any (that lasted, anyway) involving a single father, other than Bachelor Father with John Forsythe. In drama, there was The Rifleman, and later, I guess you could put Flipper in that classification, but the star wasn’t human.

There’s a moment in another cartoon, High and Flighty, where Doggie Daddy gets emotional, thinking he’s lost his son forever. Despite the hammy music in the background, the scene is treated straight and shows the bond between the two.

The Augie series could get a little out there at times. Outer space was still a big thing in the late ‘50s, so dear old dad deals with a Martian baby in his home, and Augie and Daddy take a trip to Mars to hunt a rabbit with Bugs Bunny-like wiles (and Augie, for good measure, puts his hand to his head and says “Oh, for the shame of it!” like a certain Warner Bros.’ junior cat). The characters remained popular, and appeared in various later Hanna-Barbera “gang” series, with John Stephenson taking over Daddy’s voice after Young moved to Oregon in 1966.

Bob Givens laid out at least five Augie cartoons after he arrived from Warner Bros. in late 1958. He said the Augies and other early Hanna-Barbera cartoons “were kind of fun to do.” And they’re generally still fun to watch. And, after all, who’s going to disagree with the guy who designed the first real Bugs Bunny for Tex Avery?

That Oh-So-Merry, On-the-Telly, Huckleberry Hound

The Huckleberry Hound Show was a phenomenon. Critics liked it, and even admitted watching it. Colleges formed Huck Hound clubs. An island in the Antarctic was named for the star. It not only was the first cartoon series to win an Emmy, it was the first syndicated show of any kind to do it.

But why?

I could give you a pile of my own reasons, but let’s find out an answer from someone else.

The Huck show was broadcast not only in the United States, but in Canada, Australia and England. It was the subject of Alan Dick’s column in the Daily Herald of London on May 22, 1962.

Magic of Mr. JINKS
(AND THE MEECES HE HATES TO PIECES)
FOR millions of youngsters Friday teatime is the peak of the viewing week. Spellbound they watch Yogi Bear's exploits. Which is as it should be, for Yogi is glorious kid stuff.
But I know a minor poet, a university graduate, an American expatriate professional man, two market porters and a road sweeper who contrive to get home in time that evening to join their children round the telly.
What is the subtle appeal that unites such an unlikely cross-section? As a member of the Yogi Union in good standing, let me try to the drawing power of these animated animals—Yogi himself and Boo-Boo; Huckleberry Hound, the dog; Mr. Jinks, the cat. and Dixie and Pixie, the meeces Mr. Jinks hates to pieces.
My conclusion is that they have a methodical madness which interprets the subconscious loves and hates of men and nations.
Feud
Although it is Yogi Bear who has given his name to the cult, it is Mr. Jinks the Cat who sits most behind the psychiatrist's couch. He is the one who interprets our love-hate libidos, our blood-lusting and our bravado.
His everlasting feud against Dixie and Pixie, the mice, fulfils our human yearning to give the other fellow a bloody nose without really hurting him.
Here is the magic of Mr. Jinks and the meeces he hates to pieces.
They inflict upon one another the most devastating punishment. But after the horrendous impact, both sides testily shake themselves and walk unscathed away.
"I hates meeces to pieces," breathes Mr. Jinks with venom. I despises them mices."

But the day the meeces disappeared. Mr. Jinks moped on his bed, inconsolable with grief. And another day when Mr. Jinks was missing, the meeces went to pieces.
That was the love-hate relationship showing clear. You always love the one you hate.
Yogi Bear sits on the other side of the couch. He is the excitable fall-guy in all of us, the permanent sucker who never learns.
With the dead-pan expression and the self-satisfied voice, with an upward lilt like Schnozzle Durante, Yogi and his little stooge Boo-Boo always become involved.
Yogi is emotional, but self-centred with it. He is forever trying to help, while helping himself.
Knight
Huckleberry Hound—who drags out his name like a hunting cry: How-ow-ownd!—is Don Quixote tilting at windmills.
He is the good-natured, love-thy-neighbour, turn-cheek we would all like to be, and aren't.
He is the knight with a broken lance, the prince of derring-don't.
When he besieges the wicked knight's castle the portcullis is sure to fall, the moat to drain, the molten lead to pour.
And when he reaches his fair damsel in distress, she turns out to be a toothless hag.
But Huckleberry takes it all with good grace and lives to fight another day.
There they all are, our mixed-up love-hate, do-good, derring-do subconscious selves, scribbled in a psychiatrist's notebook by a gang of shadow animals. Or are they more real than we like to think? Do we all hate meeces to pieces?