Sugar Chestnut

Sugar Chestnut

 

Sugar Chestnut

 Here's a color plate for a future issue of Cartoon Cuties (issue 10, to be exact). The scene is C.B. International Pictures starlet Sugar Chestnut discussing one of her first cartoons and how different it is to work at C.B.I.P. where she isn't required to wear "fuzzy-face" makeup because it's the one movie studio to start showcasing female cartoon characters as glamor figures rather than the traditional comedy animal approach. I worked very hard to give my characters a unique look which stood apart from the traditional aesthetic seen in Sugar's blow-up here. In time, I found myself wishing I'd embraced the traditional cartoon look rather than trying to counter it. There's something much more comfortably cute about the traditional look, something I was trying to capture while avoiding it completely!

RABBIT'S FOOT

See in on YouTube, thanks to Mr. Mark Holmes!






https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKvhlQKI0i0&feature=share&fbclid=IwAR0IO4bCz_QfzUPiLWABTvXm7SB6gsyUdBtBn4-mOGKVQjSeCOUfWtWMjhc

Sugar Chestnut

Sugar Chestnut and Crissy Carrots

color plate for issue 5 cover

Sugar Chestnut

The Film of Henry Chestnut

   Sugar Chestnut dug through boxes of film reels. Her husband Henry thought it would make a fun evening to fire up the projector and cuddle on the couch while screening old movies. It was a prospect Sugar could certainly get behind. What exactly Henry was interested in screening he hadn't told her, so she was left to make some selections herself. They'd gotten quite a collection over the years. There were the usual home movies, of course, but also prints of most of the cartoons Henry and Sugar had made, both together and separately. Henry was quite an enthusiast when it came to this sort of thing, and had also scooped up numerous full features and episodes of assorted television programs. He even had a few trailers and newsreels. Sugar limited herself to a box of home movies. They didn't screen these reels often enough, she felt. Fortunately, the reels had their contents well detailed on their can lids, and Sugar soon had an armload resting on the edge of the bed.

   Sugar adjusted her angora sweater before taking another look at herself in the mirror. Ironically, such sweaters were popular with cartoon rabbits. Annies in general wore them, but angora being favored by rabbits made for some interesting images in advertisements. Really, though, there was no better illustration of the fact that annies have nothing in common with animals beyond their shared physical traits. Some of the first annies born had rabbit features. That was some time after the Civil War. The was a superstition that annies had been born as result of the trauma of the war, but this theory quickly faded when it became clear that annies were being born all over the globe. Why they were being born was a question without answer, but they were quickly accepted into the normal patterns of life. By all accounts, annies were a minority, making up a scant 5% of the population. After the first wave of births, things returned to normal and the annies themselves were the only ones to birth further annies. Another sign that rabbit annies weren't really rabbits was that in the near century since that time, their numbers were still roughly 5-6% of the entire population. Fortunately, most people didn't care. Annies had proven themselves capable and intelligent and industrious as any man or woman.

   Oddly, there'd never been a movie made about the arrival of the annies. Maybe there wasn't much interest. The first wave had been born to regular parents, after all, so maybe there were unexpressed concerns about digging into the matter too deeply. It was by virtue of multiple children being born at the same time that a lot of women were saved from accusations of unnatural depravities. There were at first thoughts of quarantining the children, but it was quickly noted that annies had been born to couples all across the spectrum. The event had nothing to do with social placement, employment, location, race, or any other common factor which could be pointed to. A nation recovering from one of history's most violent conflicts more or less wrote the event off as an act of God. Most continued to accept this, though they sometimes wondered just how He did it. Enough time had passed, however, that any curiosity about it was little more than private musing. After what had happened in Europe in the 30's and 40's, most took a grim view of any serious exploration of racial sciences.

   Sugar gathered up the reels she'd collected and headed for the living room. Henry would be in soon, so Sugar set about making supper. As she fried up some beef, her thoughts went back to the day Henry first turned his 16mm camera on her. It was just before they were married, while on a trip to the beach. Henry was hesitant to aim the camera in her direction at first, as their professional lives were already spent in front of the lens. Ultimately, the adorable bunny frolicking in the surf was too cute an image not to capture on film. 

   Henry entered the front door with a film crate under his arm. He was still holding it as he paused to kiss his wife while she was setting the table. Sugar asked what the film was. Henry beamed with pride as he set the crate down on the kitchen counter.

   "This is something really rare," Henry explained, "a 16mm print of a movie that never got sold to television after it's theatrical run. The studio that made the picture was so tiny that they only made up the one print before shopping it around."

   "What's the picture?"

   "Science fiction flick, called COWGIRL FROM OUTER SPACE." Sugar paused upon hearing this.

   "Do they mean a Martian Dale Evans or do they mean some kind of monster women that's part cow?"

   "You know," Henry shrugged, "I'm not sure. I've never seen it before."

   "I've never even heard of that one before."

   "I understand it only played a few drive-ins in the south." Henry laughed. "We may find out why it never made it any farther than that."

   After dinner, Henry threaded the projector with his new feature. There was already visible trouble. The film had already been beaten up pretty badly during it's screening for the California television stations. It looked like a library print, in fact, saddled with numerous splices and evidencing severe sprocket damage that had been repaired. Henry took a good look at the film before he finished threading it through his machine.

   "This is the cheapest film stock I've ever seen," he reported, "doesn't look like it has another screening left in it. I think I know now why I got it so cheap. I basically saved this film from a dumpster."

   "Do you want to try it, or screen something else?"

   "Well, I've got it threaded. I admit I'm curious to see the picture."

   "I'll get the lights."

   "I'd better stay here by the machine to keep an eye on it."

   As the film began, the show was plagued by abrupt splices which caused the soundtrack to, as Henry put it, "ferp" every few seconds. Much of the credit sequence was gone by now, but as the film ran along the damage should become less frequent. Henry felt comfortable enough to step away from the projector and join Sugar on the couch as the picture began in earnest.

   The picture was obviously shot on the cheap, but it showed some potential. In fact, the flying saucer which touched down on the outskirts of a Western town was a pretty nice effect. The scene turned to a saloon where there was conversation regarding how the new Sheriff was going to handle a swelling of arson which was plaguing the townsfolk and neighboring ranchers. Henry and Sugar had to piece some of this together as a few splices broke up some of the dialog. A mysterious figure approached the saloon, revealed to be a beautiful girl in buckskins as she entered the room. It was just getting interesting, but the show was stopped right there as the projector began to chatter and cause the image to jump up and down before the film broke. Henry rushed to the projector, but the movie was lost.

   The portion of the film run through the projector had bunched up before the take-up reel could house it. The first bit was completely ruined. Henry spent the next several minutes removing the damaged film and then cleaning his projector. Sugar looked on in sympathy.

   "That's too bad," she sighed, "what we saw of it had some promise."

   "Yeah," Henry agreed, "but I'm not risking the rest of the picture. This stock is like tissue paper. I can't imagine what lab would have printed it."

   "I guess that's the best indication of how little money the producer had on hand. I wonder if the negative is still out there."

   "It might be. This picture isn't that old. You know what I'm going to do? I'm gonna talk to the Boss about this picture. If anyone can hunt down the producer of this flick, he can. He can have a fresh print struck from the negative, and if he likes it, he may distribute the picture through C.B.I.P."

   "If nothing else, maybe he can track down one of the scripts so we can at least learn what happens. I'm sorry the show didn't go like you planned."

   "Well, I guess one way to look at it is that we've been saved a few minutes we can put toward something else. Which reels did you gather up earlier?"

   "Our trip to Big Bear, last year's Christmas reel, and a few others like that. We could still grab a feature if you're all set for one. I'd watch TIME OUT FOR RHYTHM again..."

   Henry's hobby turned out to be a blessing for a number of people. The Boss hunted down the producer of COWGIRL FROM OUTER SPACE and requested a viewing of the negative. He enjoyed the picture so much that he bought the distribution rights. The film's producer had written off further dabblings in the field of motion pictures after his first film had faltered and failed to find any interest in television. Now he was planning a new slate of pictures at C.B.I.P.'s request and backing. This in turn employed a number of actors who had also figured their careers over after their first feature had staggered so. What's more, the locations used for the first film were an authentic Old West town. This provided some production value C.B.I.P. was keen on using, so the studio sent out a crew to film a couple of quickies right there in Texas. This gave Henry and Sugar a chance for a working vacation, and another excuse to take some home movies. 

    That was only the immediate value of the episode. With more hiring of the movie crews, this meant more hiring of local craftsmen. Houses were built onto, some even built entire, new water lines were dug, more groceries purchased, and so on. The area welcomed increased tourist dollars and engaged in a general clean-up and expansion. What's more, all this happened in short a time that Sugar and Henry could see it as they boarded their train for home. A new movie studio, a revived local economy, all the result of Henry running across a cheap film print?

   "That's America," Sugar cuddled up to Henry as the pair watched the town recede into the distance, "a whole community prospers because you wanted to see a movie." Henry smiled. He knew what Sugar meant. And Henry got what he wanted in the first place, a fresh print of COWGIRL FROM OUTER SPACE, on nice stock. His print was also going to be valuable. The Boss insisted on changing the title to something less silly (though STRANGER ON THE RANGE wasn't much better, Henry thought), but this private print still had the original title. 

   Sugar sighed in contentment. It was going to be a long trip back home, but she was snuggled up in Henry's arms and couldn't be happier as the gentle rocking of the train caused her to nod off.  

In-progress color plate for issue 3.

Colors by Jim Ludwig

Posters for fictional cartoons

Screen Secrets, part 3

   Roger stood in the Chestnut bedroom, scanning the area for the best place to position a camera. Crissy stood in the doorway with Henry and Sugar. Beyond them, Steve and the Boss stood by next to Misty and Ed. Roger paced the room as he searched. His eye was drawn to a large mirror hanging across from the bed. Roger's eyes narrowed as he took a position in front of the mirror. It was a huge mirror, one which took in most of the view of the room. Roger turned back to the others.

   "When did you hang this mirror?"

   "It's been there for a couple of years," Sugar noted, "we put it there not long after we moved in." Roger nodded and turned back to the mirror. He reached out and jostled it to test how heavy it was, then raised it off the nails which held it in place. There was a draft he could feel. Roger stepped back with the mirror in his hands. The group was stunned as they saw what had been uncovered. A good-sized hole had been cut into the wall, behind which was a space large enough for a man to stand next to the exposed pipe works.

   Roger turned the mirror so the others could see where a portion of the backing had been scrapped off with a razor blade. This was it, no doubt. The position afforded a wide angle on the bed and the area around it. Sugar buried her face in her hands. Henry placed his arms around her to comfort her.

   "I'm guessing there's an access hatch for the plumber," Roger explained, "the enemy must've seen the layout of the house, maybe the blueprints. At some point, they were inside, so they knew about the placement of the mirror. They may've staked it out one day while both of you were at the studio."

   "Does this mean the man who did this works for the water company?" The Boss asked. "Is that how he saw the blueprints?"

   "It's possible." Roger turned to the hole in the wall and poked his head inside before looking back to the others. "They didn't leave anything behind when they cleared out. Looks like it was just one guy. We'll see if there's a similar set-up at the Carter house."

   "How could they get in there without us hearing the access hatch being moved?" Sugar was indignant.

   "Given what's at stake," Steve offered, "the guy may've waited in there for hours before you came into the room. Five million is a good motivator for patience."

   Over at the Carter home, a similar scene was uncovered. The enemy had opened an access hatch to the bathroom pipes, then used the space inside to position a man with a camera. This time, a hole had been cut into the wall and a camera lens pushed through a painting which overlooked the bed. Misty was doubly steamed. That painting was a gift from her mother.

   "The pipes for the master bathroom tend to be close to the master bedroom," Roger explained, "if the enemy is careful not to push anything out of place enough to be noticed, they can get a camera into most places. This plumbing scheme would seem to point to someone working at the water company being involved. They'd have blueprints on file for any house they service."

   "Our little spy sure gets around," the Boss inspected the painting, "the studio, the water company, a publishing outfit in Amsterville. I wonder how many men are in this plot."

   "If it helps," Roger offered, "I don't think these guys are professional spies. They're clever, and they certainly know what they're doing, but this infiltration work is crude. I don't think it's a professional spy ring so much as some small-time hoods who had a few breaks go their way."

   "Are you sure?" Misty asked.

   "Not a hundred percent, Misty, but I'm reasonably sure this is just a case of extortion."

   "Well," Sugar was relieved, "that actually makes me feel a little better. The stakes don't seem as high now."

   "It makes Jeannie's idea even more workable," Ed mused, "we just have to move faster than the bad guys. We have to assume the inside man at the studio is still there, just to keep an eye on us. We know the printer has someone standing by. Would they still need a man at the water company?"

   "I doubt they have much of a staff," the Boss figured, "most homes around here have wells. The water company services mainly the studio and the suburb area. If the man working there did leave after collecting the photos he needed, his absence would be noticed. So that means he had two options. Stay put and leave his job after the payoff, or figure they've already got the money and retire early."

   "That note you showed me tells me they're pretty cocky," Roger noted, "but fairly bright. They may be sitting still for the time being. The studio employs more people than actually live in Creek Bend. Finding the spy there is going to be tricky. We may have a better shot at uncovering the mole at the water company or at Headliner Publishing. Given Headliner printed it's letterhead in the magazine, though, I think we can safely assume anyone who works there will be in on the scheme. In fact, it seems like obvious bait to draw you to the office in Amsterville."

   "That part of it makes no sense," Misty noted, "why give us a name but make us track down the address on our own?"

   "I think it was a test." The Boss mulled it over as everyone looked at him. "Not for us, but for them. If they tapped the studio phone, our hunting down the whereabouts of Headliner Publishing would tip them off as to exactly when we had the magazine in hand. From Headliner's office, they could run interference. If one of us showed up there, it would signal them to push the stuff they have standing by into circulation. They couldn't risk us stopping the packages from being mailed, so that tells me the packages aren't at the publishing company. They probably have a telephone system worked out to alert the others in case we get too close. If we just knew where the packages were waiting..."

   "In the city someplace?" Crissy offered.

   "Likely," Henry said, "but that's not a given. Let's assume there are at least three field men. One at the studio, one at the water company, and one at the publishing company. Possibly everybody at Headliner is in on it, but let's figure there's an inside man there like at every other location. Do we assume it's just those three, or is there a boss that they answer to?"

   "It's conceivable that three men could do all this," Ed noted, "maybe the man at the water company got it started when he noticed the blueprints of our houses. Someone at the studio could tell him who the best targets were, and the third guy could crank out the magazine cheap in his off hours without being noticed. Being a printer, he'd know how to doctor photos."

   "I hope you're right," Steve took a breath, "I'd rather deal with three men than an entire spy ring. Let's say you're onto the truth, Ed. One thing, though. The man at Headliner may not be the one who doctored the photos. Whoever did that did an extremely good job. Possibly it was the man inside C.B.I.P., particularly if it's someone who works in the publicity department."

   "Yes," the Boss concurred, "that would fall together. I hate to think it's somebody on my payroll, but this does narrow down the possibilities. Who would be the most likely suspect? Working in the publicity department. Really good with touch-ups. Someone with a private office who could stay by their telephone. Someone maybe with some experience in the publishing field."

   "Who also knows a man from the water company." Sugar sighed. "We'd have no way of knowing who it is without digging into their background, and that would draw attention."

   "Are we all willing to take a calculated risk?" Misty asked. "Because I MIGHT know who it is, but I obviously could be wrong."

   "What do you know?" Sugar was excited.

   "About a month ago, I saw a man from the water company at the studio. I know that doesn't mean anything, but I did notice that he was eating lunch with Les Sutter from the publicity department." The others moved in a little. "I didn't think much of it at the time, but I remember wondering if that man was a real city worker or somebody in costume. Being a movie studio, you can never really be sure."

   "Would you recognize him if you saw him again?" Ed asked.

   "If his hair hasn't grown out. He had a crewcut at the time."

   "Les Sutter...," Steve paced, "He's got the know-how, and he's good. I can't believe he'd be that desperate for money, though. He makes a good living."

   "Five million dollars is a lot of incentive," Roger reminded, "he may want to retire early."

   "I guess this is a good way to test Jeannie's plan." The Boss slapped his fist into his open hand. It was hard to accept. Les had always been so good at his job. He'd advanced rapidly through the ranks, and was now the head of his department. Still, those facts only made him a more likely suspect. "Actually, if you're game, I have a variation to Jeannie's suggestion I'd like to try."

   Shortly, Ed Carter was parking his car on a rise a distance from the Creek Bend Water Company building. Misty sat in the passenger seat, staring through the binoculars Roger held up for her from the back seat. Crissy stayed close to Rog.

   "Are we close enough?" Roger asked.

   "I think so," Misty told him, "I can see the staff entrance pretty clearly. If he steps out into the light, I'm pretty sure I'll know him."

   "Misty's always had a good head for figures and an eye for details," Ed noted, "a natural-born movie producer. She'll know the guy when she sees him."

   "Shouldn't be long," Crissy checked Roger's watch, "quitting time is soon."

   "Ditto for back at the studio," Ed said, "everybody better make their move right away."

   At the studio, Steve casually walked into the publicity department. He held a bundle of envelopes under his arm. Les had an office which was enclosed, but large glass windows kept the main room in view. Steve knew Les could see him coming. He played it casual. Steve entered the office and handed the envelopes to Les. Les was puzzled.

   "You'll have to take checks," Steve smiled, "five million in cash they don't have sitting around." Les bugged his eyes and reached for the telephone. Steve quickly swept his arm around Les and pulled him back before he could reach the phone. The two men struggled, but Les was a small man and not much of a match for Steve. "Do you want to make a scene? Right here in front of everybody?"

   "How'd you figure it out?"

   "Long story. You want to come quietly with me to the Boss? I know you don't want me to throw you through this window." Les relaxed and stopped struggling.

    "Okay, I'll go. But you don't understand."

   "Enlighten me on the way." Steve threw open the door and pushed Les out in front of him.

    A man with a crewcut stepped out of the Water Company's staff door. Misty didn't take long to confirm that it was the man they were after. Roger took the glasses and looked through them. Now they knew for certain what their target looked like. Roger nodded and slid out of the car. Crissy waited. Misty continued to watch the man as he walked across the parking lot. Ed reached over and took her hand, a gesture to comfort her. Misty turned back to Ed and smiled. She relaxed a little.

     Roger was anonymous to his target, which allowed him to approach without raising suspicion. As they got close to each other, Roger began to stagger and clutch at his chest. Crewcut moved closer and offered help, a nice gesture Roger didn't enjoy returning with a right cross. Swiftly, Roger scooped up Crewcut as he began to fall, then slung the criminal over his shoulder and marched back into the brush across from the parking lot.

   Not long after, Crewcut joined Les in the Boss's office. Ed towered over the chairs of both men, ample intimidation to keep them in their seats. Lined up behind the Boss was Misty, Sugar, Jeannie, Beverly, Daisy, and Minerva. Crissy stood by to support them. Steve, Henry, and Roger stood by the exits and windows. These guys weren't getting out of the room without giving the assembly what they wanted. The Boss addressed the crooks.

   "How could you do it? Why? What has any of these girls done to deserve this? You've worked with all of them, Les. You know them."

   "Boss, don't get the idea that I enjoyed it." Les motioned to Crewcut. "He threatened to hurt my sister if I didn't do it for him."

    "And just who are you, Crewcut?"

   "The man in control of this situation," Crewcut smugly straightened his posture, "you can't bring us to court, and risk the whole affair becoming public. I've got all the cards."

   "Really?" The Boss lit a cigarette. "Because you're surrounded by six women you've pulled into the mud, two angry husbands, four combat vets, and a professional spy. And then there's me. These people are family to me. I think of these girls as my daughters, when you get right down to it. The last thing you want to do is mess with a man's family, particularly his daughters."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Screen Secrets, part 2

   Beverly studied the magazine in her hands. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to either discredit her or collect a huge sum of money from her. She wasn't in this pickle by herself, either. Her sister Jeannie was part of it, as was Misty Carter, Daisy Poise, Sugar Chestnut, and Minerva Mallen. So far, the only other people in on what was happening (aside from the crooks, of course) was the Boss, his secretary Sally, Steve Morrow, Henry Chestnut, and Ed Carter. The loop had to stay tight. The more Beverly thought about it, though, keeping the circle small might hinder their search for the inside man who had made possible this situation.

   "I know the idea is to keep this under wraps," Beverly spoke to the assembly of friends silently seated around the Boss's desk, "but these pictures aren't of us, they're not real. I know they look it, but they're not. I've been thinking, if we know someone we trust, we can tell them what's going on and they'll help us find whoever did this." Beverly looked at Minerva. "Minnie, your best friend is Wendy. You know she'd help us. Wendy likes to be helpful, so she's always doing the little jobs when she isn't on camera. Running scripts around the studio, getting coffee, carrying things to Wardrobe and even Publicity. She could spy out whoever is behind this and she wouldn't call attention to herself."

   "I suppose you have a point," Minerva said, "Wendy wouldn't call attention to herself if she were running around the studio from one end to the other relaying information. Only thing is, if one of us talks to her and the spy sees us, he might figure out we're onto him. We have to figure he knows who all is in this room."

   "She's right," Daisy looked defeated, "and we have no way of making contact with anyone who might help. We have to assume the telephone is tapped. They may even have microphones hidden in here somewhere."

   "I know it's possible," the Boss spoke up, "but we don't know that to be the case. We make movies for a living. Our thoughts are going to gravitate toward the fantastic. Just because it can happen in a script, there's no reason to assume it's happening here. Now obviously, they're trying to cover their bases since there's so much money at stake, but they can only do so much and not call attention to themselves."

   "They're good at hiding," Henry sputtered, "we must assume. If they got pictures of our home life without our knowing it, they must be able to stay low while in plain sight."

   "We're usually more relaxed at home," the Boss offered, "particularly when alone with the wife. Unless you knew someone was watching, why would you even consider it?"

   "There's more to it than that," Sugar chimed in, "we live on a public street in the suburb area right outside the gates. If something interesting is going on in our house, we make a point to pull the shades. Our bedroom doesn't even have windows. Whoever got private photos of us, they had to go out of their way to do it."

   "Yeah..." Henry considered the situation, "I know we haven't seen the pix in question, but we know they've gotten a good look at you, Sugar, because they got the details of the altered photos too perfect for it to just be guess work. When, and where, would those shots have been taken, and where would the camera have been? Even if they don't have the intimate pictures they claim to, we know they've seen inside the house at the right moments."

   "There may be a crawl space we don't know of," Sugar tried to think, "maybe over the bathroom." 

   Misty nudged Ed.

   "I think they've seen us, too. These pix in the magazine seem all too accurate."

   "Yes," Ed admitted, "I noticed that, too. I didn't want to face it, but the evidence is right there in black and white." Beverly relaxed a little, leaning back into her chair.

   "I guess they were only interested in the married couples when it came to getting real pix," Bev was a little relieved though still upset about the situation as a whole, "the shots of me in the magazine seem to be more guess-work."

   "Yes," Jeannie nodded as she inspected the magazine, "the specifics on my own figure are a little different, too. Daisy, Minerva, what about you?"

   "I can't say for sure," Daisy opened the book again, "they may have guessed, but it was a good guess."

   "If they wanted shots they could use to blackmail us," Minerva chimed in, "it makes sense that they'd target the married homes since there'd be different activities there. They're also closer to the studio, I notice. I figure we should assume they've already covered their tracks, though. Now that they've printed the magazine, we'd all be on our guard."

   "It may be academic at this point," Henry said, "but I'd still like to know how they got into our house without us knowing it."

   "It may not be all that academic," Steve jumped in, "if we can find out how they saw what they did, figure out where they would have placed their cameras, they might have left behind some clues."

   "Alright," Ed stood, "we've got some time to act, let's make use of it. Steve, you know cameras inside and out, so you inspect our houses."

   "I know cameras, but I'm no spy. I wouldn't know what to look for. I mean, I can help, and I will, but I don't know how qualified I am."

   "That's okay," Ed smiled, "I know a spy we can call in. And they're not with the police, so their presence wouldn't tip off the opposition."

   "Who?" Daisy asked.

   "Roger Ralphwit. During the War, he became involved in espionage activities when he became the contact for a German spy. He was moved into intelligence and stayed there after the War. He was with Army Intelligence for years. He went back to combat duty in Korea, but he's got experience under his belt we can use."

   "It certainly sounds like it," Daisy marveled, "he never told me that he was a spy."

   "He doesn't talk about his accomplishments very much. I got into a long conversation with him when he was staying at our house just before the wedding. He's been all over the world, keeping an eye on the bad guys. If anyone knows what to look for, it'd be Rog."

   "If he was a globe-trotter," Beverly wondered, "why'd he leave the Army and come back to Creek Bend?"

   "You know the old proverb that a man on an adventure dreams only of home? He missed the simple life. When his last hitch was up, he moved back."

   "I'm certainly game to have him check over our houses," Henry stood, "the sooner the better." 

   "Let's assume the telephones are tapped," Ed formulated a plan, "here at the studio, and maybe even in our houses. Let's leave casually, go to our homes and wait while I call Roger from the drug store."

   "I don't think I could go home," Daisy gulped, "not alone. Not now."

   "You and Minnie can come over to our house," Jeannie offered, "until this gets cleared up. It'd be closer to everyone else, too." Beverly nodded in agreement. Minerva smiled in return and accepted. Daisy was quick to follow.

   As Minerva, Daisy, and Jeannie walked along the street toward the Baxter house, Jeannie turned back to see her sister lagging behind. Beverly seemed to be taking the situation harder than the others, though all evidence seemed to indicate that she'd actually been spared some of the embarrassment her friends had gone through. Still, Beverly knew what a scandal like this could do to her career. And really, it wasn't her own self that she was worried about -something which surprised even her. It was the kids. All those youngsters who still looked up to Beverly and her sister. If word of this got out, it would shatter their belief in the Baxter girls. Although something like that didn't seem like a major concern in the larger scheme of things, disenfranchising a child was the last thing Beverly wanted to do. Particularly since she'd gotten to know Davy. He looked up to her with such respect. At times, you could even describe it as awe. It was flattering, but Bev could see the bigger picture and knew what her friendship meant to the boy. It had even been helpful to Davy, making it easier for him to cope with the loss of his father. Beverly couldn't stand the thought of Davy, or any kid who might have a bright moment or two as result of her cartoons, having to associate her with the worst part of the human condition. It would be downright cruel to rob them of their innocence, and in such a nasty way.

   Beverly kept her hands clasped as they dangled in front of her. Her eyes were aimed at her shoes. Jeannie stopped and watched Bev as she haltingly came her way. Jeannie looked over and saw a flower growing out of the bushes along the sidewalk. Beverly looked up when she saw Jeannie's shoes come into her line of sight. Jeannie stood there, holding the flower, breaking a smile. She extended her arm and handed the flower to Beverly.

   "I know it doesn't feel like it right now," Jeannie said, "but you're loved. Don't forget that." Bev needed to hear that. Although she was more concerned about Davy than herself, she really was feeling alone until Jean made this simple but meaningful gesture. Beverly took the flower and held it up to her nose. She smiled. Then she frowned again.

   "It just seems like this whole situation is growing out of control. Maybe it's our imaginations working against us, but I feel like we're fighting the Blob or something." Beverly emphasized her point by holding her hands up and wiggling her fingers in imitation of a monster. Jeannie grinned as an idea came to her.

   "You may have an idea we can use to turn the tables, Bev!" Jeannie ran off toward the drug store as a confused Beverly turned to see her sister scamper away.

   "What? What did I say?" Daisy and Minerva had stopped a little ways up. They were just as confused.

TO BE CONTINUED....   

Screen Secrets, part 1

   Minerva Mallen marched down the hallway of the studio, a paper-wrapped cardboard box tucked under her arm. She was headed for the Boss's office, so deep in mulling over how to bring up the issue on her mind that she walked right by Sally and went directly into the office without invitation. Inside the office, the Boss was chatting with Beverly and Jeannie. It was time for the Baxter sisters to do another short as a team, so the girls were running through script ideas from the story department. The three of them looked up as Minerva unceremoniously burst into the room. Suddenly realizing what she'd done, Minerva had stopped in the doorway. Sally had jumped up from her desk and was now standing directly behind Minnie. Before Sal could say anything, the Boss began to step around his desk.

   "Is something wrong, Minnie?" The Boss had a very comforting voice, a commanding voice like Gerald Mohr. He was a dashing man, too, once an actor himself. It'd been a long time since anyone actually called him by name, though, as everybody had started calling him "Boss" when he founded the studio back in '38. The title stuck. Although it was more an affectionate term than anything else, it was a true label and everyone looked to him with great respect. So much so that Minerva was still a little embarrassed by her forwardness, but she collected her thoughts and held up the package.

   "There's something I think you should see, Boss. I just found these at the news stand across from the gate. I bought every copy."

   All attention in the room now focused on the box Minerva handed to the Boss. He pulled the paper off and opened the box to find a stack of magazines. It was a new title, SCREEN SECRETS. Minerva was the subject of the cover photo, and at the bottom was a headline alerting the reader to the "true" story of The Secret Life of Minerva Mallen. It was a cheaply-printed rag, newsprint behind a black and white cover which had been modified from a cover Minerva had posed for a reputable magazine which had gone on sale only a month before.

   "Pretty sloppy work." The Boss looked at Minerva. "Fan magazine of some kind?"

   "I don't think so," Minerva opened the book to a center spread, "at least not the kind of fans we're used to. Look." There was a collective gasp as everyone in the room could see a two-page spread of Minerva in the buff. "I never took that photo! You KNOW I never took that photo!"

   The Boss paced the room as he examined the shot. Minerva stood by, her ivory complexion shaded red in embarrassment. Beverly placed a sympathetic hand on Minnie's shoulder. They all knew Minerva hadn't taken such a photo. She couldn't. At once, the Baxters figured exactly the same thing as what the Boss was thinking as he studied the spread.

   "I think," the Boss looked closely, "this was drawn over a real photograph. Only the background is real. What's supposed to be you is just a drawing."

   "Yes," Minerva said, "but with my being an annie, a drawing looks like the real thing. And I'm not the only one they did this to. There are fakes of Daisy, Sugar, and Misty, and Beverly and Jeannie in this book." Beverly now turned red as Jeannie snapped up another copy and searched the pages. Indeed, there was a photo section of the Baxter sisters which depicted them by the studio pool -wearing only their birthday suits. Beverly leaned in next to Jeannie. Both were stunned.

   "Who would do something like this?" Jeannie asked. Beverly's response was slightly different as she pointed to one of the photos.

   "That's not even what I look like there!"

   "Alright, alright," the Boss held up his hand as he closed the book he was holding, "these were obviously done without any of you knowing it. This is a cheap rag, it can't have much of a circulation. Minerva, did you ask Gus how many of these he had sold?"

   "He told me I was the first one to buy a copy. Like I said, I grabbed all of them. And he said something else. He never ordered the title. It was just on the truck today, but the package was addressed to him. He put a copy on the top rack just in case it was something one of us had arranged. Thank goodness he didn't bother to actually flip through it."

   "Okay, we have to find out who did this and how many copies they made." The Boss opened the first page and searched for the printer's information. There was nothing to go on but a copyright block for Headliner Publishing. No address, which was pretty odd. "Sally, get on the horn and find out where Headliner Publishing is located. We'll go straight to the source and get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, we'll keep these copies from getting out. Oh, and call Daisy and Sugar in here. Misty, too. They'll want to know."

   "Right, Boss." Sally marched back to her desk.

   "These shots of us were taken by Steve," Jeannie offered, "at least, the shots that were drawn over by whoever did this."

   "That's right," Beverly confirmed as she pointed to the main photo, "I remember this shoot. We were wearing bikinis."

   "You don't think Steve had anything to do with this?" Minerva was shocked by the implication.

   "Of course not," Jeannie made clear, "his work is on public record. Whoever did this must've bought as many shots of us as they could from a legitimate photo shop, then edited them with ink and paint."

   "And sadly," Beverly frowned, "they did a really good job."

   "My point is," Jeannie went on, "whoever did this has some skill. Maybe Steve would know who, or how to find out who."

   Moments later, Steve was in the office inspecting an issue. Sugar, her husband Henry, and Daisy were flipping through another issue. Ed and Misty were speechless as they poured over yet another issue open on the Boss's desk. Minerva sat on the couch next to Beverly and Jeannie.

   "This could ruin us," Beverly moaned, "we have a lot of kids in our fanbase."

   "They're not going to get away with this," Minerva assured Beverly, "not without a fight."

   "Let's be realistic about this," Jeannie held up a copy, "anybody who can draw can ruin us with something like this. Maybe it's our own doing. Once annies could be accepted as glamor figures, it was inevitable that someone with bad taste might take it to this extreme."

   "All we did was present what was already there," the Boss insisted, "we didn't create anything new. Off screen, you girls are already glamorous. The only thing C.B.I.P. has done is to show you girls as you really are. The creep who did this didn't need us to think of this. There've been annies who dabbled in dirty pix, and there was a market for those photos. You can't blame yourself for being beautiful, Jean. This is entirely on whoever thinks so little of you as to present you this way."

   "I gotta admit," Henry spoke quietly to his wife, "they did a pretty good job on you. I don't know how they got the details right, but they did." Sugar had noted that, too.

   "Have we been spied on, Henry?"

   "What can we do about this?" Daisy fumed.  Ed was fuming, too. He dared not speak, for if he did all that would escape his lips would be an angry growl. Misty looked like she'd topple over if she let go of the desk. Yes, any pretty girl gets used to the fact that someone out there is only going to think of her this way, but seeing it actually in print was disturbing. Sally walked back in and gave a sheet of paper to the Boss.

   "I got the line on Headliner Publishing. It's a small outfit, a newer one, based in Amsterville."

   "Amsterville is a good-sized city," the Boss noted as he studied the address, "even if they haven't printed a lot of issues, they could have already sold enough to make it impossible to track all the copies down."

   "Best case scenario," Steve said, "these guys are interested in money. They could print up a few issues, make sure we were the ones to see it first, and then blackmail us to make sure nobody else does. They might think they can make more money by prying it out of us than to sell this trash."

   "How do you figure that theory, Steve?" Henry asked.

   "Because it showed up at Gus's news stand in Creek Bend before any of us heard about it any other way. Even with the studio here, the town itself is still subject to the normal delays caused by rural shipping. This rag should have been in L.A. a month before we ever heard of it. And more to the point, look at the girls chosen for this issue. I don't think it coincidence that the women in this room just happen to be the highest paid annie stars the studio has."

   "He's right," Daisy stammered, "a few copies of this book would be peanuts compared to what we might pay to keep it from getting out there. And if we refused the payoff, they could turn right around and sell what they have to a publisher willing to run with it!"

   Ed Carter could only scowl as he sat quietly in the Boss's chair. He glanced back down at the book, then noticed something he hadn't before. He turned the book slightly and looked intently at the page. Misty noticed.

   "What is it, Ed?"

   "We've been so upset about the pictures that we completely overlooked the text," Ed held up the open page, "look at this, gang. The first letter of each line spells out another sentence if you read it straight up and down like a crossword puzzle. There must be a message here we're supposed to see."

   "I thought the text was sort of rambling and incoherent," Daisy spoke up, "I just figured whoever did this wasn't a very good writer."

   "They may be sharper than they look," the Boss inspected a page and then moved back to his desk, "there's a message here, alright. Sally, get me a piece of paper." The group was soon huddled over the Boss as he scanned each page and jotted down the wording created by the first letters along the side of the pages. Soon enough, there was a full message to read. The Boss sat back in his chair and looked over what he'd written. He read the letter aloud.

   "Attention C.B.I.P. The plates for this book are standing by, ready to be used for mass publication for under-the-counter markets. In addition, we have intimate photos taken of certain of your stars without their knowing. Hot stuff you wouldn't want to get out. Any legal action is negated by the fact that the photos in this issue are fakes. They can still damage you, and the real photos we've taken can do even more harm to some of your stars. To prevent this, we will exchange the magazine plates, our spare copies, the candid photos and all negatives for a sum of five million dollars. Any police involvement in this matter will result in the materials mentioned being sent instead immediately to the newspapers as well as into publication. Five million dollars in cash must be given by the studio head and the following stars, to be boxed and dropped off at specified locations which will be given to you after we have learned of your discovery of this message. Misty Carter, Minerva Mallen, Daisy Poise, Sugar Chestnut, Beverly Baxter, and Jeannie Baxter must co-operate or their careers will be ruined. Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Chestnut in particular would be most interested in getting back the photos we have, as would their respective husbands. Have Beverly Baxter call the number listed in the last page ad which features her face, and she will receive further instructions."

   Sugar tried to hide her face in Henry's shoulder. "Now we know how they got the details right, Henry. Heaven only knows what they've got pictures of!" Henry tried to keep his cool, but he felt like he was about to explode. Ed exploded for him, bellowing as he threw a copy of the magazine across the room.

   "What kind of animals are these people?!! What sick mind dreams up something like this?!! I know, it's all about the money, but how low can a man get to piece together a plot like this?!"

   "You know exactly how low man can get," the Boss was every bit as steamed, but he tried to keep his composure as he got increasingly passionate, "you and Henry and a million other guys. You fought a war against it. This situation is different, admittedly, but there are similar reasons why this is so rankling. It's inhumanity. People we know and love are being targeted by someone who doesn't know them from Adam. Our dear friends. Wives. You're upset for the same reason I am, Ed. We feel helpless because we couldn't prevent this from happening to our loved ones, people we feel should be able to trust us to keep things like this away from them BECAUSE we love them." He took a breath. "We know how sick some men can get. It goes all through history. For the moment, it looks like they have us over a barrel. We either pay them off or... Or we hurt some very dear friends. We can assemble the money. But we know we're dealing with dishonest men. We have no reason to expect that they'll live up to their own terms."

   "So what do we do?" Ed leaned forward, resting his hands on the front of the desk.

   "The first thing we do is not to lose faith. We're never alone in our battles. Keeping that in mind, we think this thing through. Now, we're not to bring in the police. Whoever did this may know if we call the authorities. They've shown an awareness of the way things work around here. They knew about Gus, the delivery truck, even the fact that Minerva is usually the first to talk to Gus when the new copies arrive." The Boss leaned back into his chair again, this time wearing an expression of dawning awareness. It was an awareness shared by the others. None of them wanted to admit what they were thinking, but it was unavoidable. 

   "This was an inside job," Minerva gasped, "or they've got a man on the inside."

   "Spy tactics," Henry thought aloud, "makes me wonder if there's something more here than just extortion. Five mil is a lot of cabbage. But it's a small enough amount that the lot of us could pull it together. And if we pay off, they'll just do it again. They may be working an angle to make for long-term funding."

   "Of what?" Minerva asked. Henry took a breath and looked at the others.

   "Are we being blackmailed, or are we being used as a bank? They've figured all the angles, they seem to have a man inside. We may be onto something much bigger than we think. We know what the reds are up to, the way they're digging into Hollywood. This whole scheme may just be part of an espionage ring's financing. Blackmail funds a lot of their activities. Think about it."

   "I am thinking about it," Daisy felt sick, "and it makes perfect sense. I helped HUAC crack a spy ring in Hollywood, as you all know. This very sort of thing was one of the ways that ring funded it's operations. I'm not saying it IS spies, mind you, but if it is, that casts a whole new light on the situation. Do we think of protecting ourselves, or the country? We pay off and we fund sabotage, subversion, and who knows what else. If we call in the authorities... Our careers, our lives, would be damaged. Maybe not forever, but the immediate future would be pretty bleak. But that's us. There may be much more at stake here than our minor concerns."

   "She's right," Jeannie said, "if this is a bigger plot, we can't let it stay on track. We need the authorities to look into this."

   "Jeannie," Beverly placed a hand on Jean's shoulder, "I know what you're saying, but what if we're wrong and it IS just a blackmail scheme."

   "You pay a blackmailer off and they just do it again. We can't meet their demands either way."

   "Maybe we can run down the photos," Steve offered, "unless we're on some sort of time limit. I took most of the photos that form the base of these spreads. I'm seeing some shots that didn't make it out of the publicity department."

   "What?" Misty gasped. Steve flipped through the issue he was holding and presented a page to the group.

   "I noticed it here, the shots of Bev and Jean. Now, a photoshoot produces a lot of similar poses, but only the best shots make it to the public. Now these are similar to the shots which we're familiar with, and I admit they've been altered, but I think this shot here is one of the rejects."

   Jeannie looked intently at the page, then back to Steve. "Someone in the publicity department gave them these photos?"

    "It certainly looks like it." Steve turned to Misty. "I think one of yours is the same thing."

   "The spies are still theoretical at this point," the Boss noted, "but we do seem to at least have someone at the studio working with Headliner Publishing. How do we look into them without tipping them off? How do we get our hands on him to make him tell us what we're really up against?"

   "Well," Steve lit a cigarette, "it's not like we're dealing with classified materials here. Anyone who knows what to look for can dig through the files and find these pix. They'd have to make more than one trip, I'm sure, so it would be somebody who wouldn't call attention to themselves while in the publicity department. Someone who also might be looking for the moment when all of you girls are in here together... Someone who may've already contacted their superiors and told them to stand by for Beverly's call. We may have a time limit after all."

   "The message said nothing about when to make the call," the Boss scanned the notes he'd taken, "something to take into account is that spies tend to think that they're smarter than everybody else because they're privy to information nobody else has. Same thing with crooks. Blackmailers assume they're smarter than the people they're blackmailing. They may not expect us to figure out the code right away."

   "What would they expect?" Minerva asked.

   "I think they expected us to get upset," the Boss mulled things over, "we'd meet like this, try to comfort each other, then we'd probably take the magazines home with us. They might not expect us to find the code until later tonight, when we'd all be sulking. We've probably got about twenty-four hours leeway I'd figure."

   "Okay." Henry said. "We have a little time, how do we use it? How do we get ahead of these creeps?"

   There was a long silence.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Sugar Chestnut

   In this ink sheet, Sugar references one of her earlier shorts made for another cartoon studio, pointing out the difference in how C.B.I.P.'s glamor approach counters the typical method of cartoon production. Sugar keeps a blow-up of a frame from her earlier cartoon in her dressing room as a reminder of how good she's got it now.

Sugar Chestnut

Colors/letters by Jim Ludwig

   Sugar Chestnut came to acting when she took on small parts in cartoons starring her husband Henry Chestnut. She frequently played bunnies which caught the eye of Henry, and prompted an escalating series of disasters as he tried to make a good impression. Thanks to make-up, Sugar rarely looked the same from cartoon to cartoon, and once joked that during the series Henry had fallen in love with her 24 times. When Henry moved to C.B.I.P. in 1950, Sugar became one of the studio's glamor girls and was quickly assigned her own starring series. Sugar's cartoons were based more in domestic situations as she got caught up in scenarios depicting suburban life (at least three of her early shorts used the same theme of being locked out of her house while dressed only in her underwear). Although cast in her own series as single, Sugar refused to take off her wedding ring for the camera. This endeared her to fans and eventually the series was changed to depict her misadventures as a housewife. Henry, still starring in his own popular series of one-reelers, would play her on-screen husband in Sugar's cartoons (in which he was often mentioned, but seldom actually seen). Housewives are frequently depicted as being rather drab, something Sugar made a point to counter with her passionate, even sultry, persona. Sugar played her housewife character as romantic and flashy, something which won her as many female fans as it did male fans. Sugar maintains a reputation as one of the most glamorous of her peers, though her home life is fairly simple. Her greatest joy comes at the end of the day, when she and Henry return to their real suburban home. She has, on occasion, served as producer for some of the studio's feature films, thanks to her good eye for investments.