Written in 1933 by Samuel "Sammy" Lerner for a seven-minute and thirty-seven second cartoon that included a guest appearance by the Fleischer studio's favorite kewpie doll, Miss Betty Boop, this catchy little number introduced the crusty but goodhearted Popeye. And, boy, oh boy, was he ever strong. Those ham-shaped forearms of his packed quite a punch, even without his power snack.
He certainly got around a lot, too. Most fans would expect that from a seafaring adventure seeker, what with the country's shifting priorities during wartime superseding most other activities. Join the Navy, see the world! That's the ticket! Oh, and while you're at it, have fun with the locals.
As sure as Lady Liberty's torch would light up New York harbor, our hearty sailor lads, Popeye and the boorish Bluto, along with other characters were recruited by the major studios to star in cartoon shorts in support of the war effort. This took place in the early to mid-1940s.
Even more strategic for the Roosevelt Administration was its implementation of the so-called Good Neighbor Policy, or, as it was known in Brazil, A Política de Boa Vizinhança. This policy, administered by the Office of Inter-American Affairs and placed in the willing hands of a young magnate named Nelson Rockefeller, was established as a means of bringing Latin countries closer to the American fold - and away from Nazi and/or Fascist influence.
Brazil, a nation almost the size of the Continental U.S., and the largest one south of the border, represented a huge, untapped market. Despite its growing coffee and steel mill production, the Great Depression, and now the war, continued to hamper Brazil's efforts in other key areas (infrastructure and primary goods among them), along with her ability to address those lingering concerns.
Distraction from both the reality of rationing and the lack of basic services had become almost as viable an alternative for the locals as it had been for North Americans. While one of these diversions, i.e., the movie business in Brazil, was still in its infancy, many Brazilians had gotten hooked on film-watching as far back as the silent era.
My dad, as frequent and knowledgeable a moviegoer as they come, spent a good portion of his youth at the Saturday afternoon matinee. Similar to what transpired up north, the matinee ritual would start (in wartime) with civil defense announcements, followed by a newsreel or two, some Movietone shorts, and the inevitable cartoons - all of this coming before the main attractions, typically defined by the letters "A" and "B" (as in the "A" and "B" feature).
As a unique form of recreation, cartoons had also begun to reach their peak in the U.S. during and after the 1930s. In 1939, the Max and Dave Fleischer studio, which had earlier profited from the iconic Koko the Clown and Betty Boop series, as well as their Popeye output, moved the animation unit from their cramped New York headquarters to Miami, Florida. Cheaper labor, better working conditions, avoidance of growing union unrest, and a fresher outlook overall were what the Fleischer brothers had in mind.
On the other hand, the dearth of available talent, and the brothers' inability to compete with Walt Disney and his innovative band of artists, remained a hindrance to the Fleischers' success. With the failure of full-length features Gulliver's Travels (1939) and Mr. Bug Goes to Town (1941), the studio's distributor, Paramount Pictures, decided to cut their losses and pull up stakes. Paramount also severed ties to the Fleischers themselves, who lost control of their studio after a two decade run.
Under the re-branded Famous Studios moniker, Paramount brought the animation business back to the Big Apple. Whatever staff members were left standing (or sitting, in this case) and willing to take the relocation plunge to Midtown, would continue to plow their trade in an area relatively close to their original location. Among the surviving stalwarts were Sam Buchwald, the fellow in charge; lead animator Seymour Kneitel, who happened to be married to Max Fleischer's daughter; and story man Isadore "Izzy" Sparber. Both Kneitel and Sparber alternately took control of Popeye's continuing adventures, to include those of that other Man of Steel, Superman.
"Kickin' the Conga Round" (1942)A month and ten days after Pearl Harbor, the Fleischers' most popular character, Popeye, was summoned for active duty. Released on January 17, 1942 - and as one of the studio's first Good Neighbor-themed shorts - the lively Kickin' the Conga Round (in inky black-and-white) has our mumbling, squinty-eyed seaman (voiced by Jack Mercer) accompany that rotund heavy, Bluto (Dave Barry), to an unidentified Caribbean port. It seems the boys took the "have fun with the locals" advice to heart.
(Note: Due to the origin and nature of the conga, however, this Caribbean port and the idyllic story-setting could only have been situated in Cuba. Also, with the studio's relocation to Miami, the close proximity to and growing influence of the Latino community could not have been overlooked.)
Popeye is pining away at a reflection of his chest tattoo: It's a portrait of a dark-skinned beauty, La Señorita "Olivia Oyla" (Margie Hines, in her best ZaSu Pitts impression, but with an ersatz Spanish accent). But his best bud Bluto beats him to the punch with plans of his own: He steals the lady's phone number (CONGA 1-2-3) in order to book her for a date, but pronto. Armed with this tidbit of information, Bluto makes a quick beeline for the exit, forcing his pal to miss the boat for shore leave. Round one to Bluto.
At an outdoor dining area, Bluto entertains Ms. Oyla with simple parlor tricks. Just then, Popeye shows up and gains the upper hand by outdoing Bluto with some tricks of his own. Popeye leaves his "buddy" with a huge head bump and dark shiner, thus winning the second round. Our hero is now free to escort his date to the Café La Conga.
At the club, Olivia insists he dance the conga with her, but Popeye balks at the request. Taking full advantage of his friend's reluctance, Bluto reappears and politely invites Olivia to do the conga with him. In seconds, Olivia jumps into the waiting Bluto's arms; they're sweeping each other off their feet with a laughably-exaggerated dance display. Popeye can only sit and brood, his pipe boiling over at the sight of his date being tossed around like a rag doll.
In that moment, a waiter walks by with a fresh can of spinach for the sorry-eyed salt to sample. Popeye gulps the contents down in no time. With that, the re-energized sailor man turns into a conga-strutting dynamo. Shoving that show-off Bluto to the side, Popeye makes quite an impression on Ms. Oyla - to the point that as they whip up a storm on the dance floor, an enraged Bluto decides to cut in, only to be pummeled silly by Popeye.
A veritable free-for-all ensues, as both sailors forget their manners and go at each other's throats, shot for shot, punch for punch. Also forgotten in the melee is an irate Olivia Oyla, who runs off to seek assistance.
While the rivals are knocking one another about, two shore patrol guards (or SP's) arrive on the scene. They grab the two offenders and march them off to the brig - each guard kicking the rear ends of their prisoners to the beat of the conga. The winner and still champion: the shore patrol. Certainly, the Café La Conga won't have these two sailor boys to "kick around" anymore.
Needless to say, friendly Inter-American relations took a few noticeable steps backward with this entry in the Good Neighbor sweepstakes. Still, there are some pleasant (if sometimes violent) moments. Bluto is surprisingly light on his feet, with the flatfooted Popeye equally dexterous (allowing for the timely aid of his spinach, of course). In one sequence, the sailor physically up-ends himself - that is, his arms and hands replace his legs and feet, which continue the conga moves in tandem. The pacing throughout the feature is swift, the gags witty and light.
Musically, arranger Sammy Timberg has the session players strike the main conga motif in a repetitive Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-TUM, Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-TUM rhythm. There's no real melody as such, only a rapid theme similar to the cha-cha (also of Cuban origin) but to a quicker conga beat. Which is just as well, since the music fits the cartoon's purpose of furnishing an atmospheric backdrop.
Credits - Direction: Dave Fleischer, a common practice at the time, although there is no indication he actually directed the piece; animators: Thomas Johnson, George Germanetti, and Frank Endres; story: Bill Turner, Tedd Pierce (credited under Ted Pierce); music: Sammy Timberg.(End of Part One)
To be continued....
Copyright © 2020 by Josmar F. Lopes
