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A Straight Dope Classic from Cecil's storehouse of human knowledge
25-Sep-1987
Dear Cecil:
I've just noticed a dumb new commercial with one redeeming
feature: it heralds the return of Mr. Ed, the most debonair actor
on four legs. Since I was a child, I've always wondered how they
got that horse to "talk." Did they keep a camera trained on him
until he yawned or something? I've been watching police horses
lately, but they don't waggle their lips around like Mr. Ed. My own
theory is that he has pieces of apple skin stuck between his teeth.
--Judy H., Chicago
PS: This question doesn't apply to
Francis the Talking Mule, because I have it on good authority that
he always read his own lines.
Cecil replies:
Cecil will have you know,
Judy, that he has this one straight from the horse's ...
Lordy, for a second there I was about to commit a pun too horrible
for words. Anyway, I did get this from the horse's
buddy, namely the guy who played Wilbur Post,
or, if you prefer, "Wi-i-illllbu-u-urrrr," Ed's owner and putative
master. The role was created by showbiz legend Alan Young, whom
Cecil was lucky enough to run into in the studio of would-be
showbiz legend Drew Hayes of WMAQ radio in Chicago. Never one for
whom opportunity needed to knock twice, I immediately grilled him,
and this is the result.
You'd think that playing opposite a
talking horse for five years would have to make the rest of your
career seem like an anticlimax, but Young has been plugging away
like the trouper that he is in the years since, doing a stint on
General Hospital and most recently supplying the voice
of Scrooge McDuck on Ducktales, a new Disney animated TV
series. (He was making the rounds promoting the Disney series when
Cecil found him.) There is no question, however, that Mr.
Ed remains his chief claim to glory. Although initially
reluctant to reveal trade secrets, after a heartfelt plea he
consented to explain how the trick was done.
No special photography
was involved. Before a scene, Mr. Ed's trainer merely fed him a wad
of a mysterious substance akin to peanut butter, which sat between
cheek and gum. (Ed's trainer, by the way, was the late Lester
Hylton, who also trained Francis the Talking Mule, eponymous
star--and don't think I haven't thirsted for years to use
that word in a column--of the 1950s movie series. Just
in case you were wondering about certain suspicious conceptual
similarities here, the first six F the TM films were directed by
Arthur Lubin, coexecutive producer of the Mr. Ed
series.)
Now, where was I? . . . Ah, right. Though the wad
of quasi peanut butter was harmless, Ed, being a horse (of course),
naturally wanted to get rid of it, which he did by working his
lips. When this was synched up with a voice-over by the inimitable
Allan "Rocky" Lane, Ed looked like he was talking.
Young reports
that the real problem wasn't getting Ed to talk, it was getting him
to STOP talking. After a while the horse apparently
tumbled to the idea that the humans wanted him to move his lips on
camera, and thereafter every time Young would finish saying his
lines Ed would commence to orating whether the script called for it
or not. Eventually Hylton worked out a system whereby a crop placed
against Ed's foreleg was the signal for him to clam up.
The
original Mr. Ed was a gelding ("It happens to all of us in show
business," Young avers) whose real name, believe it or not, was
Bamboo Harvester. Sad to say, he died about a dozen years ago,
followed a short time later by the heartbroken Hylton. Allan Lane
has also departed this vale of sorrow. However, talking-horse buffs
who feel they have pretty much plumbed the depths of nuance to be
found in Mr. Ed reruns need not despair. Young tells me
a Mr. Ed TV special is currently in the talking stage. (Presumably
a nationwide talent search will be conducted to find replacements
for the missing members of the original team.) I think this is a
fitting tribute to the staying power of an animal who has become
one of the leading cultural icons of our time, right up there with
Elvis--and hey, Ed didn't go in for drugs, gluttony, or tacky
interior decorating. I don't know about you, but I know who I want
MY kids to grow up to be like.
HOW THEY GOT MR. ED TO TALK: TAKE TWO
Dear Cecil:
In your discussion of how they got Mr. Ed to talk, you cite actor Alan Young's claim that it was peanut butter stuck between Ed's cheek
and gum. This is Mr. Young's stock answer. However, the enclosed video shows indisputable
evidence that the "marionette theory" [i.e., Ed's handler pulled strings to make
him talk] was at work at least some of the time. The video shows excerpts from a few
episodes where the lighting and camera angle reveal the very visible nylon "bit"
being pulled for each word Ed spoke. If you don't see the nylon under Ed's neck, then look
for it running behind Ed, out of camera range. Some may claim that a nylon bit was needed
in order to have Ed turn his head or perform some other movement without his trainer
having to be in the camera shot, but the evidence is clear that the bit was also used when
Ed was standing still and merely had to talk. Alan Young has every right not to reveal the
whole truth about Ed's talking methods; it is the wonder and mystique of "how was it
done?" that keeps the Mr. Ed television series alive. I do think peanut butter may
have been used some of the time, but though I am a great admirer of Mr. Young, I thought
you should know he was not telling you the whole truth. --Joseph Fox, Los Angeles
Dear Joseph:
Huh. Well, it could be a nylon bit, I suppose. But I say it's dental floss to get rid of
that damn peanut butter.
--CECIL ADAMS
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