Vera Vague: Doctor, Feel My Pulse is vintage Columbia comedy

Review by Doug Gibson

As part of our infrequent, but consistent series that highlight the "other stars" of the Columbia comedy shorts, we bring you Barbara Jo Allen, otherwise more famously known as Vera Vague. Between 1944 and 1952 Vague made a couple of shorts a year for Jules White's comedy shorts team at Columbia.

"Doctor, Feel My Pulse," is arguably her best short say experts (I've only seen this one), although it isn't one of two later shorts that were actually nominated for short-subject Academy Awards. Allen, a very attractive brunette, created a shrill, spinster character on the radio in the late 1930s. As she moved to film, taking the stage name "Vera Vague,'' her beauty forced producers to make her more of a high-spirited, sometimes neurotic "best friend" and "flirt" in feature films.

White's hiring of her to do Columbia shorts made her the rare female comic lead for a shorts series. As Ted Okuda and Ed Watz note in their book "The Columbia Comedy Shorts," her work suffered due to mediocre scripts and White's tendency toward more violent, male-oriented humor. However, the authors note that "Doctor, Feel My Pulse" is arguably Vague's best short. I've watched it three times and I agree it's a funny, entertaining farce.

Vera Vague, named as such, is a real estate agent, recently married to an attractive husband. Irving, (George Lewis) who tries his best to get a kiss from his wife. The problem is, Vera's a hypochondriac. She even gets the sneezes when she's talking on the phone. While in her office, she mistakes red ink for throat spray, with the resulting "Jules White"-type humor.

Eventually Vera makes her way to a doctor. On the way she develops an eye tic which makes the men she passes on the street into the office think she's coming on to them. It's an amusing, low-key humor scene. There's also a funny passage with comedy veteran Bud Jamison. Eventually, Vera mistakes a loony patient (Jack Norton) for the real doctor, and follows him home to receive some unorthodox treatment.

The real doctor and Vera's husband Irving arrive and discover the chaos. They decide to "teach Vera a lesson." Vera is told she has little time to live. Worse, Irving and Vera's pretty friend Sandra (played by the iconic Christine McIntyre) pretend that they are in love and plan to marry after Vera dies, enjoying her money in the process. Irving and Sandra have quite a kiss, although Vera gets the last kiss with Irving.

I won't give away the final scene but Vague really carries the short, particularly at the end where she effectively ends the two-reeler, taking charge of the action in a manner that would make "Lucy Ricardo" proud. In fact, throughout the short I kept thinking that Vague resembles a lesser version of Lucille Ball. She has that combination of zaniness and demanding total respect despite the absurdity she finds herself in.

In all Vague made 16 two-reel shorts for Columbia. During the filming of "Strife of the Party," (`1944) Vague refused to ever work with director Harry Edwards again. Sadly, the once highly regarded Edwards was battling alcoholism and would eventually be let go. Since Edwards was part of Hugh McCollum's Columbia team, Vague just moved permanently to White's unit. Her two Oscar-nominated shorts are "The Jury Goes Round 'N' Round" (1945) and "Hiss and Yell" (1946). "Doctor, Feel My Pulse" is a remake of "Calling All Doctors," (1937), with Charley Chase. Heine Conklin and Ann Doran join Jamison as uncredited actors in the short.

We're able to see this short via YouTube thanks to Greg Hilbrich, who runs the Columbia Shorts Departments website and has uploaded many Columbia shorts to YouTube via his page "The Shorts Department. We interviewed Greg recently.

Edward Bernds' memoir is a history of early Hollywood sound films

By Doug Gibson

I've long wanted to read Edward Bernds's memoir, "Mr. Bernds Goes to Hollywood: My Early Life and Career in Sound Recording at Columbia with Frank Capra and Others." But it's pricey. Just to buy it in Kindle is $40-plus dollars; out of print dead-tree copies go around $50 and more.

But I found it, in the library at Weber State University in Ogden, Utah, where this blog calls home. Who wouldn't want to read about Edward Bernds' career as main sound man for such great Capra films as "Lady For A Day," "It Happened One Night," "You Can't Take It With You" and more? And Bernds was also on the set doing sound for Howard Hawks, Leo McCarey, Gregory LaCava, and more. In the studio system of the 1930s, it wasn't all A production assignments. Bernds was assigned to dozens of low-budget western oaters, many starring Charles Starrett. He also did sound for screen tests and the low-budget near low-on-the-Columbia-totem-pole comedy shorts. In fact, Bernds was on the set when a trio of performers, Moe, Curly and Larry, starred in a musical novelty short called "Women Haters." Of course, they became the Three Stooges and Bernds was around doing sound for many of the comedy, Stooges, Andy Clyde and others.

Bernds was born in Chicago in 1905. He loved the new medium radio and by the time he was 20 he worked at a Chicago station. When his girlfriend, Bathsheba, moved to Los Angeles, Bernds eventually followed her there and the pair were married. They returned to Chicago briefly but a job offer came from southern California as a sound technician. Bernds' tales of the early days of sound films is fascinating. He describes the gradual sophistication of studios' sound systems. Early synchronized sound involved filming in a confined space, that limited the freedom of the camera. That may be why so many early sound films look stagy.

Bernds worked briefly at United Artists but moved to Columbia. It was considered a lesser studio but it was a smart move for Bernds. He describes how he was noticed by Capra, an exceptional director who was able to place actors in plots and situations and elicit performances that made audiences care about their fate. Capra noted Bernds' talent, and he became his preferred sound technician.

It was a fortunate partnership. Bernds was an observer of film, a frustrated wannabe screenwriter and director who compensated that desire by writing short stories for the 1930s literary magazine "Rob Wagner's Script." Bernds recalls taking his published stories to Columbia's crusty boss, Harry Cohn, who always asked Bernds to send a screenplay. As Bernds notes, at that point in his life he lacked the confidence to write a screenplay.

As mentioned, Bernds kept notes and along with his memories they provide a detailed look at early sound Hollywood that is a treasure for film buffs. We get peeks into the characters and actions of stars such as Clark Gable, Barbara Stanwyck, Claudette Colbert, Jimmy Stewart, Loretta Young, Leslie Howard Jean Arthur, The Stooges, of course, and many more.

Trust me when I say the life of a working-class, integral member of a film crew, the sound technician, is an interesting topic, particularly one toling 80-plus years ago. Bernds captures the times, the down of the Great Depression, the hope that Franklin Delano Roosevelt offered. We walk streets in 1930s southern California with Bernds and we vicariously relive Bernds' memories of his favorite mode of transportation, the cross-country train.

Bernds learned both diplomacy and when to assert himself on a set. As he recalls, Capra was open to suggestions, but a director such as LaCava would fire a subordinate for unsolicited information.

The details of filmmaking, beyond just sound technology, are fascinating in Bernds' memoir. He takes us across the Atlantic to shoot a film in England, to New York and New Jersey for shoots, to ranches in southern California, to the rickety Columbia stages used for the comedy shorts, and much more. We get glimpses of the dangers, and sometimes tragedies, that resulted in filming in an era before modern special effects.

Through the 1930s, Bernds and his wife raised a family and saw his paycheck grow with Columbia. But he harbored a major ambition, to be a director. And that is the theme of "Mr. Bernds Goes to Hollywood," it's one film professional's journey to finally becoming a director. The book opens with Bernds' relating Cohn's bewilderment that his efficient sound man wanted to chuck that for directing. It ends with Bernds' move to directing with the shorts department under the guidance of producer Hugh McCollum. The memoir barely covers the directing years, but any genre fan is well aware of the dozens of Columbia comedy shorts Bernds directed, and the features work he got, usually "Blondie" films.

Bernds never became an A director. He didn't have the opportunity to do Capra-esque films. He left Columbia when McCollum was fired and a previous western feature with The Stooges he made, "Gold Raiders," got terrible reviews and that hurt his career (I have seen the film and enjoy it). But he was hired at Allied Artists for a while and was busy directing for more than a decade, including the later Bowery Boys films, a couple of late Stooges features and some genuine cult science fiction films, including "Queen of Outer Space" and "World Without End."

He died in 2000, a year after his memoir was published. A couple of interesting points: Although he has great respect for Capra, he notes several recollected events that are distinctly different from what Capra writes in his autobiography. This is important because Capra, who had feuded with Harry Langdon in the 1920s, was harsh to Langdon in his memoirs, claiming things about him that have been debunked since.

Also, there is a bittersweet recollection of Bernds, and his writing pal Edward Ullman, visiting his old work office at Columbia in the late 1960s on business. The pair of film veterans were condescended to and lectured on comedy by a youngster less than half their age. At that point, Bernds decided he was content with his two film industry pensions.

I urge fans of the Columbia comedy shorts to read this book. They will gain a better appreciation of one of the best shorts directors. His later years are highlighted with an epilogue interview of Bernds by Leonard Maltin and Joseph McBride. Bernds offers interesting tidbits, some delightfully gossipy. McCollum, Bernds reveals, was smitten with the beautiful comedy shorts supporting player Christin McIntire, although he says it may have been platonic.

Those wishing a more detailed look at Bernds' work with Columbia comedy shorts must read the book by Ed Watz and Ted Okuda, "The Columbia Comedy Shorts, reviewed here.

Book on Columbia comedy shorts offers a fascinating glimpse of two-reeler history

                                      By Doug Gibson

The Columbia Comedy Shorts, Ted Okuda and Ed Watz’s interesting history — courtesy of McFarland Press — of the 25 years of two-reel comedies the studio generated is fascinating reading if your a genre buff, and interesting even to the fan whose knowledge of Columbia shorts is limited to the several score shorts that starred the Three Stooges. Reading the book, I was amazed at the depth of the comic talent that Jules White grabbed for Columbia over three decades. I was aware of the Stooges, of course, and the former big-name silent stars who worked with Columbia — Harry Langdon, Buster Keaton, Charley Chase, Andy Clyde — but I’d wager very few know of Vera Vague, or Sterling Holloway, or Billie Burke, or Maxie Rosenbloom and Max Baer, or Hugh Herbert, Walter Catlett, Collins & Kennedy, Harry Von Zell, and solo efforts from future Stooges Shemp Howard and Joe Besser, and even Bert Wheeler, plus Wally Brown. All, and more, were under contract with Columbia shorts. (Vague, by the way, garnered two Academy Award nominations, note the authors.)

Okuda and Watz wrote this valuable reference guide before the era of broadband Internet, and YouTube, and Google archives. At that time, only the Stooges were easily available to watch. Others required 16-millimeter film purchases. That’s changed. I can go to YouTube and watch the Columbia shorts of Langdon, Keaton, Clyde, Shemp, Chase, and even catch one of the obscure comedies of Baer and Rosenbloom, which were not available to the authors. In fact, most of Columbia’s other stars failed to catch on in the TV era for two reasons: one, they didn’t have the sheer volume of episodes of the Stooges; and two, nor did they have the fan base. This bears explaining — as enjoyable as the Columbia efforts of Langdon, Chase, Keaton, etc., are, the shorts are not these comics’ best works. Columbia, which under Jules White, stressed loud gags and action, defined the Stooges; many of the others had to adapt to Columbia.

This is not a criticism of Jules White, who seemed an amazing man, with tremendous energy and a desire to grab as many comics as he could while at the helm of the two-reeler section of the studio. From reading this book, which benefits from extensive interviews with Jules White, director Edward Bernds and feature player in many shorts, Emile Sitka, it’s apparent that the executives' disinterest in the shorts department — so long as it was making money — allowed tremendous autonomy for White. According to the book, salaries for the stars ranged from $500 an episode to $1,000 (for Keaton), to $1,250 (for Langdon) and to $2,500 an episode for each of the Stooges.

While most of the shorts were heavy on slapstick, White, and also producer Hugh McCollum, sometimes offered more subtle humor, such as Sterling Holloway, popular in the late 40s and 50s. Also, director Bernds was able to complete some shorts that provided more humor than just slapstick. His Stooges’ short, “Micro-phonies,” (watch below) remains my favorite for just that reason, including the opportunity to hear the beautiful voice of Columbia’s most famous comedy shorts woman, Christine McIntyre, who has achieved iconic status as a Stooge player.

As mentioned, while the Stooges were honed on Columbia’s fast-paced, loud action templates that sometimes ended abruptly, it frequently led to lesser efforts from the other stars. However, as the authors note, by the latter 1930s, Langdon, Chase, and many others were looking for work, and in no position to turn down the above-average paydays. Jules White clearly admired the players he offered starring roles for in the shorts, and it’s a pleasure for genre fans to watch Langdon and others provide laughs in that later era. And, it’s important to remember, the Columbia shorts were wildly popular. Even a sub-par Langdon effort, such as “A Blitz on the Fritz,” was a huge hit for movie-goers watching these shorts prior to the main films. The Stooges were so popular that Columbia used the popularity to boost their feature films, the authors note.

“The Columbia Comedy Shorts: Two-Reel Hollywood Film Comedies, 1933-1958” provide the ingredients that made the shorts. There are short profiles of the directors, Jules White, his brother Jack White (Preston Black), as well as Bernds, Charley Chase, Del Lord, and the unfortunate Harry Edwards, who appears to have been everyone’s least favorite, except for a loyal Harry Langdon. Not surprisingly, the authors note that Edwards was eased out after Langdon’s death in late 1944. Information is included on the writers, how the films were shot, including sound effects, previews, casting, budgets, stunts ... and injuries, pay scale, etc. There are even script samples. Readers may be surprised at how closely the Stooges, for example, followed scripts. The comedy chaos can lead to an assumption that much of the action was ad-libbed, but not really.

All of the shorts produced are provided at least a paragraph of information, and the authors are careful to note where scenes from other shorts were used; a practice that occurred often in the more lean-budget 1950s. For example: Although Christine McIntyre had left Columbia by the mid-1950s, footage of her was used in later “new” shorts.

There are short biographies of professionals involved in Columbia productions. I haven’t mentioned Vernon Dent, a mainstay throughout the Columbia shorts era. Always a featured player, his talent was equal to the stars. Reading Dent’s short biography, I wanted to learn more. It's great to learn that there is now full-length biography of this comedy pioneer, "Vernon Dent: Stooge Heavy ...,” from BearManorMedia. The versatile McIntyre, in so many of the Columbia shorts, would be an interesting biography, in my opinion. Edward Bernds penned an autobiography, “Mr. Bernds Goes to Hollywood,” which I have read.

Okuda and Watz have compiled a valuable, interesting film history tool, with fantastic nuggets of information. It’s as valuable today as it was in 1986, when first released. Now that many of these shorts can be viewed at home, the book is a handy resource. You can buy the book here.