Episode 306: Howdy Doody (November 1, 1950)

What I watched: A 1950 episode of children’s puppet show Howdy Doody., created by Roger Muir. The series starred “Buffalo” Bob Smith as the host and voice of the puppets and Bob Keeshan as Clarabell, with additional voices by Dayton Allen, Rhoda Mann and Bill LeCornec (although I’m not sure who played this episode’s guest character). This episode was directed by Bob Rippen and written by Ed Kean. It aired on November 1 at 5:30 PM on NBC and is available to view on the Internet Archive.

What happened: After the customary opening song, Howdy regales us with “the Howdy Doody Rumba”, including a couple of culturally questionable “ay carumba”s. We then launch into this week’s mystery, as “Chief Chickapaw” was drawing a picture of his “Indian Reservation” and inadvertently revealed something. This leads to a tableau of the chief being held hostage by Buffalo Bob and Clarabell. Bob thinks the Chief was drawing a map of the Howdy Doody Circus instead, and his suspicions are soon confirmed.

Bob can’t believe this script either.

The extremely European-sounding Chief says that he was drawing the picture as a gift, and only didn’t want to show it because it wasn’t ready. Bob seems to buy this completely. The Chief signs the picture with a “T” instead of a “C”, which gets Bob’s suspicions going again. Bob tries to relate him to the other Native American characters they’ve had on the show. This leads into another song on the piano, “The Friend Song.”

Chief says he needs a little more time to finish his work, which leads into today’s old time movie, which involves a couple of dudes trying to catch a horse while hanging from a harness. Chickapaw explains how his warpaint is very significant, which leads into Buffalo Bob encouraging kids to get the Howdy Doody colouring book, where kids can draw their own face on the last panel. Howdy appears with an unsettling-looking parrot puppet, and sings to encourage kids to get their parents to buy things.

The Chief is finished with his very simple drawing, and says that his tribe, the Chigoochies, were caught in a conflict between the Sigafoose and Tinka Tonka. Not sure these are historically accurate names. Apparently there’s also a princess with a magic necklace in there. Clarabell sprinkles water on the drawing to simulate the upcoming rainy season. The Chief ultimately decides he’s going to help “the Feather Man” and the Sigafooses, as it’s easier to attack downhill in the rain. He presents Bob and Howdy with a ceremonial necklace, but ends up giving it to Mr. Buster instead.

Bob goes over to the “Shoedoodle” to advertise an array of Poll-Parrot children’s shoes, including “really rugged he-man Oxford, like dad wears.” He reflects on the episode’s events, and finds it strange that the Chief gave beads to Mr. Buster. The camera pans down to find the Chief writing in his notebook, with Suspense organ music playing. What a gripping cliffhanger, a shame we’ll never see the ending.

What I thought: Look, I genuinely don’t go into these articles looking to condemn 73-year-old TV shows for being racially insensitive, because it’s a waste of time. But I don’t think you need to be a social justice warrior to be a little uncomfortable with the appearance of the nefarious “Chief Chickapaw” in Howdy Doody. The series seems to have created a whole cosmology of made-up “Indians”, rendering them as a kind of fantasy world. It makes The Lone Ranger look like Reservation Dogs.

The plot of the episode is that Chickenfoot is being suspicious but the credulous Bob and Howdy buy into everything he’s saying, believing he’s going to be friendly. This requires the Chief being shady in a way that will be detectable by small children, resulting in Howdy and Bob looking like total idiots. It’s an interesting tack, making the children’s show host an unreliable narrator, but it also has the effect of training kids to see Indigenous people as untrustworthy even if they seem to be benevolent.

This is like the map at the start of a fantasy book.

But, as always, the main purpose of Howdy Doody is to sell shit to kids. At this point the ads and merchandise have metastasized to take over a big portion of the show. Howdy is largely separated from the main action, sitting at his piano to play songs from the recent record, also featured on Kukla, Fran, and Ollie. Today’s main sponsor, Poll Pocket Shoes, now has its own puppet and set, blending into the larger action.

Obviously every show on traditional television depends on advertising. As a medium, it exists to sell shit. But there’s something especially uncomfortable when Buffalo Bob urges young kids to ask their parents to buy them a particular model of shoe. Together with the Native American stuff, all of this makes this episode of Howdy Doody a very weird and somewhat insidious watch.

Coming up next: Kukla, Fran, and Ollie plan to put on a show for a visiting humourist.

Episode 264: Howdy Doody (October 2, 1950)

What I watched: A 1950 episode of children’s puppet show Howdy Doody. The series starred “Buffalo” Bob Smith as the host and voice of the puppets and Bob Keeshan as Clarabell. This episode, which featured guest appearances from Milt Neil and Chad Grothkopf, aired at 5:30 PM on NBC and is available to view on the Internet Archive.

What happened: Following the usual chorus of “Howdy Doody Time”, we get a cartoon segment promoting Halo shampoo. After that it’s right into the drama with Don Jose Bluster, who has recently recovered from a bout of talking backwards. This was the fault of his brother, who was involved in a plot to take over Howdy Doody’s circus. Howdy doesn’t seem to be too offended, and has a celebration planned for tonight with Bluster involved.

Still not the most egregious case of tracing in comics.

Clarabell is upset that he’s left out of the plan, and is full-on raging, ripping up a newspaper. It’s okay, it’s only the Post. Howdy announces that the Sunday papers in a lot of cities are going to start carrying a Howdy Doody comic strip. Clarabell is still upset because he isn’t going to be in the comic strip, because the artist refuse to draw him. Understandable. This brings in the cartoonist Milt Neil. He explains that he’s upset at Clarabell because he defaced his painting, the original Mona Lisa.

Howdy does another promotional spot for Halo Shampoo. I’m sorry, but as a kid there was no sponsorship that could lead me to wanting to take a bath. Clarabell is still furious about the comic thing, banging on his xylophone. Buffalo Bob gives him a challenge, trying to replicate the sound of three bells on the xylophone. He happens to play the tune of the Three Musketeers chocolate bar jingle, which Buffalo Bob leads the kids in a chorus of.

Milt rings the doorbell, and this time he’s brought his drawing partner Chad Grothkopf and an easel. They’re here to do a live drawing demonstration. One of the kids yells about how they can’t see. Howdy looks more appealing as a drawing then he does as a puppet. They do drawings of the other characters who will feature in the comic, including Bluster and Dillydally. They then reveal that Clarabell will actually be in the strip, revealing a less-terrifying drawing of the clown. Bob puts a mustache and beard on the drawing to match Clarabell’s own defacement.

Clarabell arrives, and is upset abut how he’s depicted. He sprays Bob with something, which leads to some angry shouting. After this it’s time for Bob to show another old silent comedy, featuring the Smith family. Must be a Rick and Morty prequel. There’s a joke involving grinding up dogs into sausages, and a little girl holding a sword. It’s completely bizarre. But there’s no time for the movie to end, as there’s another 3 Musketeers plug to do. To add a little bit of mystery to the show, the “featherman’s headdress” drops down from the ceiling and falls on Clarabell.

What I thought: It’s been a while since we watched Howdy Doody, and this episode gives us something that we haven’t seen before: the denouement to one of the series’ ongoing plots. It’s really more of a recap of what was presumably a long saga involving backwards-talking and circus conquests and other things that would seem interesting to 8-year-olds. Bluster was at fault, but no one is really mad at him, and he is free to move on to his next moderately evil scheme. The episode ends with what is presumably the set-up for the next ongoing story, with the return of Bob Keeshan’s redface “featherman” character.

What’s most noticeable after not watching the show so far is the gradual growth of product placement. Commercials were commonly integrated into the program in this period, but Howdy Doody makes it a fine art, with multiple products (the 3 Musketeers Bars and Halo Shampoo, and who knows what else on other days) not only being mentioned but having dedicated segments and gags. Maybe it’s just the young age of the audience that makes the very commercial nature of the show grate, but there’s something a little creepy about Buffalo Bob leading the Peanut Gallery in a commercial jingle. But hey, the shows I watched as a kid were largely created to sell toys and video games, so I’m in no real position to judge.

Hey, what’s so bad about having a beard.

The product that gets the most time in this episode, however, is the Howdy Doody comic strip that is being launched. There have been a lot of attempts at launching newspaper strips based on already-established properties, and while some of them have run for decades, none of them really seem to have the same traction as strips which originated in the medium. The newspaper comic is just such a weird, hyper-specific medium that it’s hard to adapt other stories to it.

The Howdy Doody strip wasn’t an exception. It ran for just three years and is largely forgotten today. There are a few of the strips available online, and it seems as though the creators had difficulty translating the series, which was largely a call-and-response stage show, into a comic story. Most of the strips seem to just use the characters for unrelated gags – here’s one where Clarabell straight up throws a kid in the trash, and another one about the leap year of 1952. It’s especially bizarre seeing Howdy and company as full humans in an urban environment.

Still, I do like the way that this episode features the creative team behind the series. So much kid’s media seems to trea itself as if it appears out of the ether, so it’s nice to see Howdy Doody acknowledging the work of the cartoonists. The live demonstration might have even inspired some kids at home. Maybe if they worked hard at honing their drawing, they too could be involved in an ill-conceived cash-in one day.

Coming up next: Kukla, Fran, and Ollie celebrate a big TV expansion.

Episode 218: Howdy Doody (July 4-10, 1950)

What I watched: Two July 1950 episodes of popular kids’ show Howdy Doody. Both episodes starred “Cowboy” Bob Smith and Bob Keeshan as Clarabell, with the second one featuring Dayton Allen as a guest star. Howdy Doody was created and produced by E. Roger Muir. These episodes aired on July 4 and 10, 1950, both at 5:30 pm on NBC.

July 4, 1950

This is the kind of image that is entirely sincere, but that I can’t help but read as parody.

This is, of course, Independence Day, so Howdy warbles out “God Bless America”. It’s the kind of image that comes off as a parody. This is followed by the more important duty of advertising Rice Krispies, complete with puppets for Snap, Crackle, and Pop. Later on in the show, they talk in high-pitched voices about helping out a little girl. Bob also shills hand puppets of the mascots. There’s also a segment advertising Colgate “dental cream”, with Howdy singing the jingle.

The ongoing mystery is about a paper anchor that has something to do with Dilly-Dally and “the Inspector.” Dilly denies having anything to do with the anchor. Clarabell has been dispatched to a navy yard to see if it has anything to do with a secret code, because that’s how these things work. They decide to send a message through the “Hemplesniffer”, a kind of computer that involves a lot of gears. They’re also trying to stop the missing Mr. Bluster’s plan, although they don’t know what it is. Maybe he wants to do something good for once. You shouldn’t judge. Later on they get a message back from Hemplesniffer, saying that the answer will take two days.

The other strand of this episode deals with Clarabell, apparently back from the docks, anticipating a “big surprise.” Bob builds it up by taking guesses from the kids and saying it’s “The biggest thing of its kind you’ve ever seen.” The Olde Time movie is about a couple of old hobos foiling a robbery. Howdy tells the kids to bring their parents into the room to watch the old movie, which I’m sure annoyed no one. At the end of the show, Buffalo Bob sees a projected image of an anchor, and reacts like he’s just glimpsed the face of God.

July 10, 1950

We’re still on secret codes, with Bill and Howdy trying to decipher the meaning of the word “Abadabazaba.” Clarabell eventually mimes out that he knows a guy named Sir Archibald who can help. Bob dials the operator to get in touch with him. Sir Archibald, a heavily bearded explorer type, rappels down from the ceiling. Clarabell promptly splays him, which the kids laugh at after much prompting. Archibald keeps introducing himself, trying to climb back up the rope, and similar chicanery. He leaves before Bob can even ask him about the code word.

The three faces of quarantine.

Clarabell is also still waiting for his surprise. Bob says he’ll give it to him tomorrow if he behaves today. But he squirts Buffalo Bob one too many times, and gets it delayed again. Before the movie, Bob shows off an article in Movie Stars Parade about the show. The film is another silent comedy featuring the Three Tons of Fun, this time in a Western setting.

Bill shills for Three Musketeers, and the Inspector shows up. Howdy tells him about the code word, and he is also stumped. He says that they’re still missing one clue that will make everything make sense. This clue is a box that they previously possessed but have now lost. Bob gets his Three Musketeers hat and leads the kids in a commercial jingle. Finally, Bluster comes back with the box, which is literally just a shipping box with some stuff written on it. What’s in the box? We’ll find out tomorrow, by which I mean never.

What I thought: This pair of episodes gives us the first chance to see two parts of the same Howdy Doody storyline. However, I’m not sure that doing so really adds to understanding — it’s mostly the same type of narrative stalling and mysteries that don’t really have a lot of depth to them. Presumably kids were entertained by all this, but it doesn’t seem like there are any stakes to figuring out all these mysteries. This story has the logic of a video game quest line — you’ve got to decode the message to get the other message so you can find the guy to figure out the plan, and so on and so forth.

That’s not to say that these shows are completely devoid of charm. Sir Archibald, played with verve by Dayton Allen, is a fun character, a parody of the heroic British adventurer that presumably went right over the heads of the viewing audience. His section occasions a kind of comedic chaos that is otherwise lacking in these slow-paced episodes. It’s also nice to see Buffalo Bob be the butt of a joke for once.

By this point, Howdy Doody was a full-on commercial juggernaut, and it’s easy to see here. Whereas most other shows had a single sponsor, Howdy Doody has three in these two episodes, and presumably more on a rotating basis. The advertisements are long and very straightforward, but keep with the tone of the show, with puppets and sing-alongs. The ads are often interrupted by plot-relevant bits, or fade into other parts of the show, making it so kid’s can’t tune them out. Indeed, it would likely be difficult for a small child to discern where the paid advertisement began and where the show ended.

Of course, the morality of selling sugary treats to small children is very dubious. But that never stopped television, and in the decades to come it never would.

Coming up next: A variety show called “Okay, Mother.” With a name like that, it has to be exciting.

Episode 210: Howdy Doody (June 12, 1950)

What I watched: The June 12, 1950 episode of Howdy Doody. This episode would have aired in the afternoon on NBC, and is available to view on the Internet Archive. The show starred “Buffalo” Bob Smith as himself and the voice of Howdy, with Bob Keeshan as Clarabell. The series was created by Smith and E. Roger Muir.

What happened: Buffalo Bob and Howdy are back, and leading the usual chorus of kids. Bob then immediately leaps into plot recap, noting that the Bluster brothers have gone to South America to “deal with all those terrible things that are happening.” I assume this means they’re toppling socialist governments and installing CIA puppets. Bob goes on to detail that strange things have been going on around the studio. Flub-a-Dub comes on and immediately starts breaking down about how Howdy doesn’t love him. This fucking thing.

Somewhere in the midst of this Clarabell has been fired from the circus, and is currently looking for a new job. He’s being replaced by “the feather man.” A lot going on there psychologically. Howdy talks to “the Inspector”, another Spanish-looking puppet. They then launch into the movie, a silent comedy starring “the Tons of Fun”, sooner than usual. Phew, we almost hadn’t had any filler on this show.

The cars in the film are just a little out of date.

The short goes on for like a full ten minutes, with the highlight being when one kid tells Bob he plays spin the bottle at his birthday party. That kid is getting lucky. When we come back, Howdy is shilling for Three Musketeers chocolate bars. The packaging looks a little different than I remember. After having killed all this time, the Bluster brothers still aren’t here.

Bob then reads through fan letters suggesting new jobs for Clarabell. A lot of kids want to unload their chores onto him. Clarabell shows that he’s unsuited for this job by breaking dishes, and Bob yells at him abusively. There are also some telegrams suggesting that Clarabell bring his honk to the world of radio. He plays the role of quiz host with members of the Peanut Gallery, and also messes this up.

Finally, Phineas T. Buster comes in on a flying carpet from South America. Even though Bluster is ostensibly a villain, he gets a big cheer. He says that the things that went wrong are connected with “the lucky left leg of the Lima llama”, which I guess was the five Ls discussed in a previous episode.

Unleashing the magic of the llama’s leg requires singing an original song and doing two good deeds. I’m starting to think that the mythology of this show is a little silly. Bluster says that someone has been using the leg without doing the appropriate rituals, and this has created “bad magic” that sabotaged the show. This turns out to be Clarabell’s fault. Apparently the rest of the curse is on a second tablet, which was held by Don Jose Bluster — who isn’t here yet. Make sure to turn in tomorrow, kids!

What I thought: I’ve noted before that Howdy Doody, like some other early kids shows, is a lot more serialized than adult dramas and sitcoms — perhaps a remedy to the idea that having an ongoing storyline represents maturity. Here, we once again see the habit of cheap serial shows, teasing out a small plot development for the length of an episode. It’s more blatant here than in a contemporary drama, as we don’t even get a disposable subplot, but rather an extra-length old movie segment and a lot of advertising.

Why don’t you come with me little girl…

Howdy Doody has a very strange mythos, involving magical llama legs and Native Americans. There’s a concept of Latin America as a land of exotic mystery from this era, a product of “hemispheric solidarity” products during World War II which is only faintly present today. Of course, this is interchangeable with other types of colonial fantasy — just witness the flying carpet that Bluster rides in on (a genuinely cool bit of puppetry.)

Did kids take these stories seriously? They almost seem like they could have been written by kids, with the wild imaginative leaps of children dragged out over days and days. Maybe it was the more performative parts of the show that actually appealed to them — the sing-alongs and audience quizzes. Hell, maybe they liked the public domain movies. Or maybe it’s just a case of kids not yet grasping how their interest in ongoing stories could be manipulated.

Also of note in this episode is a subplot about the looming unemployment of Clarabell. As always, the characters seem especially cruel to the clown — it’s repeatedly emphasized that he’s working this week without pay, and is only waiting for “the feather man” (Keeshan’s other persona) to relieve him.

This plot does give the show an opportunity to introduce the idea of employment and careers to kids, a vital part of a capitalist education. But as a whole it feels almost sadistic. Maybe this is the real reason that so many kids were scared of Clarabell: they were scared they would become him. Or maybe he was just a creepy clown.

Coming up next: Studio One closes out its first season with a crime story.

Episode 202: Howdy Doody (May 1, 1950)

What I watched: The May 1, 1950 episode of Howdy Doody. This episode would have aired in the afternoon on NBC, and is available to view on the Internet Archive. With “Buffalo” Bob Smith out, “Rodeo” Ray once again guest hosts..  Bob Keeshan co-starred as Clarabell. The series was created by Smith and E. Roger Muir.

What happened: The show starts, but Howdy Doody and Buffalo Bob are both missing, so it’s up to Flubadub to lead the kids through their normal dissonant chorus of “Howdy Doody Time.”. The ongoing storyline is apparently something about figuring out riddles issued by a Don Jose Bluster. A human-like puppet named Dilly Dally wanders in, but is quickly sent away. Flubadub suspects that he’s working for the Blusters. This is becoming an episode of The Americans.

I’m with the girl covering her ears.

Dilly Dally comes back, and Flubadub makes fun of him for subscribing to the Ladies’ Home Journal. Clarabell is also here, as there are no Native Americans to scare him off. Dilly Dally is upset that no one’s commented on his long absence, and starts feeling sorry for himself. Rodeo Ray shows up to say that Howdy and Bob are off on the trail of the mystery, but he’s here to help figure things out. So it’s an episode of Howdy Doody without Howdy Doody.

Ray’s brought a bag full of tools to help figure out the mystery, which has to do with five mysterious “L”s. He has a bunch of stuff that begins with the letter L, ranging from a lock to a picture of the Statue of Liberty. Ray and Clarabell then play a “game” where they bounce Flubadub around on a blanket, to his obvious displeasure.

After landing on the piano, Flubadub commands that they put on the movie. He does a terrible job of summarizing the plot of the silent comedy, but it has to do with a newsboy pretending to be a count so as to help another man seduce a rich woman. Very relatable to kids.

Don Jose comes out, and it’s basically the same puppet as Phineas T. Bluster but with a Spanish accent. Flubadub verbally abuses him for seemingly no reason. He wants to “win” the mystery, whatever that means. As the two puppets yell at each other, we fade to the Howdy Doody NBC logo, giving an abrupt closure to the program.

What I thought: We have a fairly small selection of Howdy Doody episodes, compared to its daily schedule, but this is already the second we’ve seen where Buffalo Bob is out and has to be replaced by Rodeo Ray. I’m not complaining — Ray seems like a nicer and more genuine guy, and who cares about Howdy Doody — but it does make me wonder how many vacations Bob Smith took.

What monstrosity has Buffalo Bob created?

Unfortunately, the absence of Howdy Doody this time means that the role of lead puppet falls to Flubadub, who I am ready to declare the most annoying character in television history up to this point. On top of his hideous appearance, Flubadub has an incredibly grating voice, and the personality of a kid-friendly version of a New York wise-ass. He’s a failure of design on a number of levels, but apparently the kids of 1950 loved him.

To make matters worse, Flubadub is paired with a set of other annoying, B-list puppets. There’s a long, terrible dialogue sequence between him and Dilly Dally, a kind of sad-sack beta male puppet. Flubadub makes a lot out of the fact that Dilly hasn’t been around for two weeks, but honestly it’s more striking that they brought him back at all. The ostensible villain of the story, Don Jose Bluster, is a bad Spanish accent and not much more. Maybe Bob Smith did the voices for all the decent puppets.

We’re also in the midst of another ongoing storyline, which would seem to have become a regular feature for Howdy Doody. This one involves the crew investigating a mystery about “five Ls”, and given that one of the Ls is stated to be lima beans, I’m not too upset about missing out on the reveal. It must have been an interesting balancing act, maintaining serialized stories without ever making them too upsetting for young kids. Brain-teaser mysteries may have been the best solution they found — the most recent episode we looked at also had to do with a mystery, although one that felt slightly more important to the characters.

Maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh on a kid’s show that was clearly looking to fill time while its star was away. But it’s hard to imagine how even children would have enjoyed this episode. Myself, I was actually happy to get to the canned silent film segment. At least that had a plot that moved forward.

Coming up next: We’ll see what local colour we get next in Suspense.

-little girl covering her ears during entrance (0:50)

Episode 188: Howdy Doody (March 27, 1950)

What I watched: The March 27, 1950 episode of Howdy Doody. This episode would have aired in the afternoon on NBC, and is available to view on YouTube. The episode starred “Buffalo” Bob Smith as both himself and the voice of Howdy, with Bob Keeshan appearing as an Indian chief instead of his typical role of Clarabell.. The series was created by Smith and E. Roger Muir.

What happened: We open on Buffalo Bob, in Old West garb, yelling at an off-screen “Mr. Indian” to come back and not be afraid of them. Apparently they’re in the midst of a Western adventure, looking for the Sigafoose Indians or “feather men” or some similar nonsense. Bob says that he doesn’t know why the “Indian” would be afraid of them, apparently having not read much American history. Howdy also now has a horse/giraffe hybrid puppet, Flubbadub, that’s extremely annoying.

The goal of the storyline, it would seem, is to prove that Buffalo Bob deserves the moniker. If not, Buster will become Kid’s President. This is a baroque political system. Bob hears an airplane flying overhead and stumbles onto a cactus. The pain in his side causes him to dig around in his pockets and find a strange rock that looks like half of a symbol. They debate how the rock got there for a while.

We hear the Indian coming back following some surely historically-accurately drumming and chanting. He comes on screen, and apparently doesn’t mind being called Mr. Indian. (Presumably because it’s actually a white guy.) He turns out to be the feather man they’re looking for.

Of course Howdy Doody conceives of Indigenous crafts as mass-produced merchandise.

Not stereotypical enough yet, the Indian decides to have a “pow-wow.” He and Bob both show off their matching Sigafoose “souvenirs.” They play the drums and Howdy does an “Indian dance.” They then make Mars “cocoanut” bars, because you got to keep the sponsor happy.

After this, we get back to the plot. Buffalo Bob’s grandfather, Buffalo Tom, married a Sigafoose princess, so apparently this tribe will have the proof that he comes by his nickname honestly. The Indian decides to think on this while they play an “old-time movie”, claiming that he hasn’t seen a movie before. The film is another silent comedy about Eddie Lyons trying to marry a police chief’s daughter. (It really is an old movie — Lyons died in 1926.)

The Chief uncovers a Clarabell handpuppet. He’s terrified of the clown, understandably so, and runs off in fear. Bill then pitches the puppet to the audience, falsely assuming that they aren’t scared of Clarabell. You need to send in a Mars Cocoanut Bar wrapper and a dime to get one. Buffalo Bob goes off to find the Indian again, while Howdy and Flubbadub wave goodbye.

What I thought: It’s been about eight months of historical time since we last checked in on Howdy Doody, and sometime during this period the series made its transition from a circus theme (hence the clown) to a Western one, as that was popular with the kids. The actual contents of the show — the opening sing-along, the old silent comedy shorts, the product placement — haven’t changed, but now everyone is dressed like it’s the 1850s for tenuous plot reasons.

And, if you want to be a Western, you clearly need to include a racist caricature of a Native American. “Mr. Indian” or “the feather man” has all the faults Indigenous authors have found in Tonto magnified: his ridiculous broken English, his simpleminded subservience to the white man, and added on a childish fear of clowns. At least Tonto has a name and a real tribe, instead of whatever racial epithet the white cast wants to call him by.

It seems particularly significant that this character emerges as part of a plotline where Buffalo Bob needs to prove the legitimacy of his ancestry. The Native American’s chief utility is acting as evidence of the white man’s rootedness in some kind of authentic, rustic frontier and not his current sedate life as a host of children’s television. Even as actual Indigenous peoples and cultures are erased, their mythic bloodline needs to be kept around in safely-diluted amounts to spice up the pasty heritage of white people. (Hi, Liz!)

Flubadub, right, is a crime against God.

There are further aesthetic changes to the new version of Howdy Doody. Instead of sitting on Bob’s lap, Howdy and the other puppet (the hideous hybrid Flubbadub) are in their own stage area, manipulated by more-visible strings from above. This makes them mostly commentators on the action between the human characters. There’s also no interaction with the Peanut Gallery outside of the opening theme song. I’m not sure how typical or permanent these changes were of this era of Howdy Doody.

Perhaps the most striking thing about this episode is the strange acting of Bob Smith. He seems exceptionally belligerent, -Buffalo Bob seems extremely belligerent, contriving circumstances that allow him to yell in a familiar self-pitying way. Smith had something of a reputation of being short-tempered when the camera wasn’t rolling, and I wonder if some of that was beginning to seep into his on-screen performances.

Of course, anyone can seem aggressive when they begin the episode hollering at the screen. This creates a dissonant moment for the (presumed white and urban) viewer: they are visually being hailed, but Bob’s address of “Mr. Indian” is clearly not meant for them. Combined with Bob’s aggressive, angry tone of voice and it’s a very bracing way to start the show off. Smith sounds not so much like a rambunctious, hollering cowboy as your pissed-off manager.

The whole episode has a strange chronological lapse. The story is part of an ongoing serial, beginning and ending in mid-conversation, and the timeline makes us think that the events of this storyline happen over the course of an evening. But at the same time, the real-world calendar is acknowledged, with Howdy noting that there are only four days left in the month. This is a typical kind of double-consciousness familiar in serialized media, but it’s rare that it’s as specifically (and incoherently) stated as it is here. How did 50s kids keep all this straight?

Coming up next: At least there won’t be any serialized weirdness on Studio One.

Episode 63 – Howdy Doody (August 3, 1949)

What I watched: The August 3, 1949 episode of Howdy Doody. This episode would have aired in the afternoon on NBC, and is available to view on the Internet Archive. The episode starred “Buffalo” Bob Smith as the voice of Howdy and guest host “Rodeo” Ray, whom I have been able to find absolutely zero information about.  Bob Keeshan co-starred as Clarabell, while Ed Kean wrote the episode and Bob Rippen is credited with directed. The series was created by Smith and E. Roger Muir directing.

One girl is NOT having it.

What happened: Buffalo Bob is absent, replaced by fill-in host Rodeo Ray. He seems a lot younger and more eager, with little of Bob’s barely-suppressed hatred. He uses a ukulele to lead the Peanut Gallery in a truly ear-melting version of the theme song.

Howdy sings a song about looking both ways when you cross the street. Rodeo Ray invites two kids, apparently friends, onto the set. The boy has come all the way from Alabama to watch this shit. In order to further demonstrate the importance of “using your eyes”, Ray blindfolds the boy and allows him to pick a prize, while the girl gets to pick with her eyes open. The boy ends up with a rolled-up newspaper and the girl gets a Howdy Doody hand-puppet. Thus, through the use of mild S&M and psychological experimentation, children have learned not to cross the street blindfolded.

Buster, the villainous Mayor (?) comes by to demand his daily payment of 500 marbles. We first saw this plot way back in 1948, but Howdy is still deep in the red. Like any good gangster, Buster also takes payment in goods, and demands the Scopedoodle’s curtains in lieu of the marbles which Howdy doesn’t have. You would think that, being Kid President, Howdy’s authority would override Buster’s, but evidently my grasp of the legal system is slipping. Our puppet friends tries to think of something else he can use to pay his debt

This is followed by another old silent film comedy, this one starring Harry Langdon as an unlucky newlywed who gets “shanghaied” onto a merchant ship. One of the kids (possibly our friend Billy from Alabama, a born heckler) interjects to say he’d like to be burned with fire. It’s cute in context, I swear.

The puppet doesn’t get any less creepy when it dances.

After the movie, Buster is back. Ray decides to teach him a cowboy trick with a handkerchief as a form of payment. Clarabell attempts to do the same trick, and only gets manages to get himself tied up. It’s a fairly simple trick to tie a knot with one motion, but still sort of neat. With that, Howdy’s debt is reduced to 1500 marbles — enough so that it can be paid off the next Monday, when Buffalo Bob comes back. Howdy sings and dances, and it’s time to say goodbye.

What I thought: This episode’s content is the typical Howdy Doody banality, and as such it’s mostly interesting as an example of what the show looked like with a different host. Rodeo Ray’s true identity may have been lost to the ravages of time, but he acquits himself pretty well in this half-hour. He has a nice, calming voice, and actually develops a rapport with the audience, with the kids evidently feeling comfortable enough to shout interjections during the movie that liven up the usually awkward narration. Indeed, if Bob didn’t pretty much own the show, his position might be in trouble.

This does raise the practical issue: who was the voice of Howdy in this episode? Did Buffalo Bob pre-record the dialogue before he went off on vacation? That’s certainly possible  — there are no extended conversations between Howdy and Ray, and from the little I know of Bob Smith he seems like the type to micromanage the show when he was away. Certainly, any kind of spontaneity created by the presence of children is minor at best, and you could easily script out a couple weeks of episodes ahead of time. Smith usually recorded the voice of Howdy anyway, so it wouldn’t be a radical departure. (If it was a different voice, it was a pretty exact copy.)

Speaking of the script, it displays the same fixation on debt and repayment that has characterized past Howdy Doody episodes. There’s an incongruent sense of desperation to the plot of Howdy’s dept to Buster. We see various parts of the set put in hock to the banker, with big signs announcing they’re his property. Even when Howdy has no more marbles (currency) to pay, he is forced to slowly give up parts of his workplace, becoming increasingly unable to even hypothetically pay back the loan. The bank, it turns out, is willing to take anything, even his knowledge. By the end of the episode, it appears there’s light at the end of the tunnel, but Howdy has heard that before. Steinbeck couldn’t write a better indictment of capitalism.

As I’ve noted, this type of plot is very understandable coming from writers who had just survived the Great Depression and the rationing of World War II. One wonders, however, what the young audience thought of it. Did they understand the world of capitalism as one of endless debt and suffering, or did they simply swear to themselves to be prudent and always cross the street? Did the miserly economics of Howdy Doody plant the seeds for Reaganomics? Probably not. But, at the very least, the depressing logic underneath the seemingly low-stakes conflicts of the show didn’t hurt it’s popularity.

Coming up next: It’s back to the front, as D-Day approaches.

Episode 25: Howdy Doody (March 16, 1949)

What I watched: The March 16, 1949 episode of Howdy Doody. This episode would have aired in the afternoon on NBC, and is available to view on YouTube. The episode starred “Buffalo” Bob Smith as both himself and the voice of Howdy, with Bob Keeshan as Clarabell and E. Roger Muir directing.

This box now rents for $2000 a month.

What happened: This episode starts rather unusually, with a long shot of Howdy sleeping — face down, ass in the air, like the slut he is. The camera pans around to reveal that the other principals of the show are also deep asleep: Clarabell is hanging in a cage, haunting your dreams, while Buffalo Bill is sleeping in a ball in a cupboard for some reason. We slowly get a glimpse of the Peanut Gallery, filled in and silent. A telegram comes in from “Mister NBC”, and a sleepy Bob answers it. The telegram urges him to get onto the show, but Bob looks at the clock and sees it’s still 3 — not 5, which is Howdy Doody Time. After a phone call wakes him up a second time, he panics and gradually realizes that Clarabell has set the clock backwards so that he could sleep through the show. This is later revealed to be a running storyline, as on the previous episode Clarabell set the clock forward half an hour to try and get out of doing the show.

This starts a series of frankly savage pranks and counter-pranks. The Flap-Doodle produces a fake newspaper whose headline pronounces that Clarabell has been arrested for the dire crime of messing with the clock. This headline alarms Clarabell, who receives further punishment of four tickles. This is apparently also a reference to earlier episodes, where Clarabell tickled Bob and Howdy for calling him a girl. There are reams of psychoanalysis that beg to be written about this relationship.

Clarabell goes to the Flapdoodle looking for something to retaliate with. Bob spends quite a long time predicting that Clarabell won’t be able to get anything because he can’t talk, but after extensive sounding of his horn he manages to produce a live rabbit. This serves as a transition into an entirely different segment, where two women (the first we’ve seen on Howdy Doody) visit the studio with a group of rex rabbits for everyone to hold and look at. It has the feel of classroom show-and-tell, but at least it’s educational. The woman tells the audience the story of how two rex rabbits appeared in subsequent litters of common rabbits in answer to a farmer’s prayer. I was surprised to learn that this was actually true (possibly minus the theological elements.)

Eventually, everyone will be replaced by  a smaller, limbless version of themselves.

After another thinly-veiled transition, Bob takes out some Howdy Doody hand puppets for the Peanut Gallery to play with. Having a slightly miniaturized, non-sentient version of yourself in a box somewhere sounds like an existential nightmare, but Howdy isn’t too bothered. Bob plays out a brief conversation with a little boy and, being the narc that he is, chastises the kid for saying he doesn’t like school and only likes his teachers a little. This is followed by a Mickey McGuire film segment, where even Bob kind of loses the plot of the silent comedy, and the traditional closing chorus of “It’s Howdy Doody Time.”

What I thought: I have to admit — the cold opening of this episode is easily the best thing I’ve seen on Howdy Doody so far. The show’s requisite slowness works in its favour this time, as the slow pan around the room reveals new layers to the ridiculous tableau of everyone sleeping. The actual joke — that Clarabell has made them all late for the show — isn’t that great, but the strange positions that each of the characters sleeps in makes the segment. There’s a sense in which we’ve caught these characters off guard, in their “after hours” mode — and yet, even a child would know that such a thing is impossible, because one of the characters is a puppet and the other a clown in full makeup, and Buffalo Bob almost certainly doesn’t sleep in a cupboard on the set. Thus the segment combines two different types of comedic transgression — transgression into the private realm, and transgression against the laws of reality. It’s also a gag that assumes the viewer has some knowledge of the program, at least enough to know when and how it’s supposed to begin. It’s not exactly Chaplin, but the execution of the joke is a cut above the standard.

The rest of the program is fine, if sometimes bewildering. The changes in subject matter — from a strange psychological exchange of punishments to an educational segment to a commercial ploy to a silent film — are abrupt and unconvincing, but they do stop each bit from running on too long. We get a glimpse of everything Howdy Doody could be at this point in time: warm, funny, strangely creepy, commercial, boring and sanctimonious.

That last quality, sanctimoniousness, appears specifically here in relation to work and education. Postwar America was settling into a homogenous ordering of time, the archetypical 9-to-5 job followed by evening entertainment on the radio and television, sleep, and then back to work again. Children’s schooling was organized in a mimicry of this, the better to prepare them for the work world. But work isn’t natural to us: children have to constantly be pulled from their inclination to idleness and doing whatever they want. In this episode’s drama, the main force of idleness is Clarabell, who has apparently continually been trying to get out of the show. Why he can’t is a question left unanswered: apparently clowns don’t have sick days, and may in fact be slaves who cannot quit. It’s assumed, instead, that Clarabell’s idleness is an element of chaos that prevents chronologically-regulated pleasures such as The Howdy Doody Show from proceeding as normal. So he has to be chastised, just as the young boy who doesn’t like school has to be chastised, because even the things we see in our leisure time must remind us of our duty of constantly producing — producing ourselves, producing television, and generally being awake at the right time and asleep at the right time.

Howdy Doody had already carved out the late-afternoon timeslot for children’s television, an arrangement that would last for decades. Kid’s TV would slot into that narrow space afforded to their leisure: after school, before the parents came home and made them do their homework. But under the Howdy Doody model, even their leisure was to be productive: by consuming moral entertainment, children would unknowingly be producing themselves as future workers, who would never be like the scary clown who doesn’t like to work.

Coming up next: A look at two news programs from different sides of the Atlantic.

Episode 23: Howdy Doody (March 8, 1949)

What I watched: The March 8, 1949 episode of Howdy Doody. This episode would have aired in the afternoon on NBC, and is available to view on YouTube. The episode starred “Buffalo” Bob Smith as both himself and the voice of Howdy, with Bob Keeshan as Clarabell and E. Roger Muir directing.

Man, they’ll give a degree to anyone these days.

What happened: Howdy Doody begins, as usual, with Buffalo Bob leading the Peanut Gallery in a bewildering, disharmonious chorus of “It’s Howdy Doody Time.” Howdy begins the show by announcing he has a surprise for everyone. Bob wastes some time by going into the audience and asking the kids if they know what Howdy has planned, and quietly shutting down all their guesses. In the end, the surprise is Howdy standing behind a cut-out of a gown in a graduation cap, meaning that he’ll answer viewer letters. It’s kind of a shitty surprise.

Bob tells the television audience that they can write in and get Howdy to deal with their problems — but he can’t help them with their homework, because that would be wrong. (This point is belaboured a few more times.) His first piece of advice is to “start every day with a song”, which he proceeds to do. The first real listener letter, and the one that takes up the bulk of the episode, is from a young girl who wants to know what it’s like to be in the movies. Howdy and Bob answer this by taking a young girl from the audience. Her name is Sandra, and she looks as terrified as every other child on Howdy Doody, but she at least can speak clearly. Sandra is placed in a chair, draped in an ermine gown that allegedly came from the wardrobe of Jennifer Jones, and given a script to read. Buffalo Bob takes the role of director, and Clarabell mans the camera.

The script is a mock version of “Romeo and Juliet” — not really a parody, just a jokey dialogue with the characters identified as the leads of Shakespeare’s play. Howdy plays Romeo and Sandra Juliet, which is great for those of you into children romancing puppets. After all of this is done, it turns out Clarabell forgot to load the film into the camera, but the gang does manage to scrounge an audio recording of Sandra’s performance. Little Sandra finally gets to sit down, but not before Bob gets her name wrong. This is followed by the usual old comedy film segment, featuring Markie McGuire as “The Lindbergh of Toureville”, with Bob reading the captions and following along with the story for the kids who can’t. The show concludes with Bob and Howdy asking kids to write in, and promising more response to their letters the following episode.

What I thought: If Howdy Doody is good at anything, it’s filling time. This is not a total insult: as an instructor, I often found it hard to fill 80 minutes of lecture time twice a week. Very little happens in this half hour — it’s a mailbag show, and they only answer one letter! — but I was still surprised when I saw that twenty minutes had gone by. The little stalling tactics that Buffalo Bob does, like the repetitive audience interaction (perhaps necessary when dealing with young children) are absolutely vital skills for putting on three live shows a week.

Even though this episode is particularly thin, there are some startling moments of weirdness. For one thing, there are multiple moments that would seem to be cross-promotion for the Jennifer Jones movie The Portrait of Jenny — the letter-writer specifically identifies Jones as her inspiration, and it just so happens that her movie is opening in New York that weekend and the show has one of Jones’ outfits backstage. But The Portrait of Jenny is an adult-aimed fantasy romance — it’s hard to see much of an overlap between it and the Howdy Doody audience. I suppose film advertising was also in a fairly primitive state. Maybe the local theatre owner just cornered Bob Smith at a party.

This episode is also a very instructive early example of how children’s television teaches kids how to relate to media. The letter writer’s dreams of Hollywood are never challenged or tempered — indeed, an obsession with stardom is taken to be entirely natural. By placing cameras and a director in frame, Howdy Doody presents an idealized version of how film (and television) is made, with the director and script posed as authorities. It must have been slightly surreal for the peanut gallery to sit there and watch two sets of cameras film the creation of a film — maybe a bit like that old 1936 RCA video.

“I want  a divorce.”

In a more minor key, this episode also teaches girls how to be feminine, or more precisely how to perform femininity. Buffalo Bob drapes little Sandra in fur, instructing her as to how valuable and desirable it is, and literally gives her a script in which she is the gently chiding, straight-laced romantic partner to an oafish man. This is what it is to be a woman in postwar America: put on an expensive costume, read the script, and try to put up with the dumb cowboy puppet you married. That may be a little overdramatic for a kid’s show running low on inspiration, but the dual-natured character of the starlet will be a common one on television, and this is a foreshadowing of the way that TV programs gendered desire.

Coming up next: Admiral Broadway Revue ponders the magic of radio.

Episode 19: Howdy Doody (February 1, 1949)

What I watched: The February 1, 1949 episode of Howdy Doody. This episode would have aired in the afternoon on NBC, and is available to view on YouTube. The episode starred “Buffalo” Bob Smith as both himself and the voice of Howdy, with Bob Keeshan as Clarabell and E. Roger Muir directing.

What happened: As usual, Buffalo Bob opens the show wearing a weird safari hat and leading the assembled children in song. This is immediately followed by another song — “Shout Howdy Doody”, about how you can and should instantly make friends with someone by shouting “Howdy Doody” at them when you meet them. Bob goes over this concept at length with the Peanut Gallery, being very instructive on the powers of this special codeword, which is so much more potent than a normal greeting. It has the air of a cult recruitment ceremony, but less exciting.

Howdy hands out six drawing cards to kids, all part of some plan he has to demonstrate the meaning of friendship. Having somehow spent ten minutes on this, it’s time for the film segment. After a momentary gag where the film is broadcast upside down and fixed by the magic words of “Howdy Doody”, we settle in for another viewing of a Mr. Smith silent comedy, featuring somewhat deadly family dysfunction. This one is set unseasonably at Christmas, with a rich prospector uncle coming to visit from Texas. There aren’t really a lot of jokes. Buffalo Bob’s narration, in trying to explain to kids why these events are funny and not just upsetting, often sounds like the detached rationalizations of a serial killer. “Well, isn’t that awful” he says, followed by a knowing chuckle.

Howdy Doody’s Final Repose.

When we come back from the segment, we see what Howdy has concocted. The children have all received instructions to draw one image, but when combined they have unknowingly created a narrative, that of Little Red Riding Hood. Scott McCloud would probably have a lot to say about this. Things don’t exactly go perfectly. Bob gets a little girl from the audience to reveal the story, but she can’t follow it, mistaking the big bad wolf for Clarabell.  (Clarabell is, I must reiterate, a terrifying clown.) I don’t blame her — most of the images are just of characters, without actions. Then again, what do you expect from little kids drawing an out-of-context clue while watching a movie? Howdy has a very strange reaction to this, lying back and muttering “I’m dead, Mr. Smith” — which seems, uh, out of character for this show’s sense of humour.

This acrostic meme is really played out.

As a final demonstration of what individuals can accomplish through working together, Howdy presents an acrostic of all the cities that NBC broadcasts TV to, including such metropolises as Schenectady and Toledo. Together, albeit with a little fudging, they spell out “NBC TELEVISION”. Whenever there’s a mystery in Howdy Doody, the solution is probably a cheap plug. With that, the episode seems to have improbably run long, and Bob and Howdy have to sign off without a closing song.

There are eleven more years of this, guys.

What I thought: Even by Howdy Doody’s standards, this episode was pretty insipid. There doesn’t seem to be much of a concept to it besides a lecture on friendship, and a strange insistence on “Howdy Doody” as some kind of magic friend-making word. In the manner that would become characteristic of children’s shows, this lesson combines simple moralizing with commercial exploitation. Children might make more friends by engaging with their friends in an enthusiastic manner, but they’ll also be spreading the brand name everywhere they go. And they’ll also be identifying themselves as viewers of Howdy Doody, using an expression that will hopefully find recognition in other viewers of the show.

This was one of the innovations of Howdy Doody. It was perhaps the first television show to imagine that it had an audience, and that this audience would have a coherent identity. When Bob Smith referred to the “Peanut Gallery”, it wasn’t just the studio audience, but also the children watching on television — who he continually addressed and welcomed. There’s even the strange pretense that he can see and hear the children tuning in, and their imagined reactions. Smith’s way of talking to this audience was condescending, but it did recognize them as an audience constituted by joint spectatorship — what Michael Warner would call a public. And, if they followed his instructions to the letter, they would go about expressly labeling themselves as members of this group, repeating the name of the show as an incantation. This audience may have been more phantasmal than real — while Howdy Doody was one of the most popular shows on television, TV owners were still a small minority. But Smith and Muir, if nothing else, understood the cultural and commercial potential of creating such an audience.

If there is any joy in this largely didactic episode, it comes from the most common source of joy in early television: things going wrong. The audience’s heavy involvement is frequently a problem for Howdy Doody as much as it is an asset, as small children often freeze up or have unpredictable reactions. This is no more true than in the case of the little girl brought up to attempt to recognize the story of “Little Red Riding Hood”, who quite reasonably can’t make sense of six hastily-executed child’s drawings. This ends up undermining the point about how people can accomplish things together, to Bob Smith’s visible annoyance. He spends such time trying to get her to say what he wants her to say that, in the true sign of a messed-up production, the show that had earlier seemed to be stalling for time ends up rushing at the end. That’s the thing about publics, I suppose: they’re never quite as easily manipulated as you want.

What else is on?: DuMont aired programs by the names of The Ted Steele Show and Children’s Records, while New York independent WPIX aired Comics on Parade, Pixie Playtime and Magic Books.  These attempts at capturing Howdy‘s young audience were largely unsuccessful.

Coming up next: Sid Ceasar and company kick off the variety crazy with Admiral Broadway Revue.