Athena’s latest toy: It’s Felix the Cat, as a golfer. That wouldn’t be as in Tiger Woods, incidentally; by the duds Felix is sporting, we’re talking something along the lines of Bobby Jones era of things. Which is, of course, entirely appropriate for Felix, since he was also something of a 20s phenomenon.
Most people don’t know this, but the very first image transmitted by television was of Felix—some RCA technicians propped up a statue of the cat in front of a camera and let ‘er rip. Sure, it’s mildly ironic that the first moving pictures on television were of a statue (of an animated cartoon cat, no less), but it just goes to show that history’s defining moments need not be inherently dignified.
Alas, Felix has come down in the world since the days of hot jazz and bathtub gin. This particular Felix of Athena’s was retrieved out of a coin-operated machine; you know, one of those things with the crane arm—you maneuver the crane arm over the thing you want, press a button, and it drops down and attempts to snag and retrieve the cheaply made object of desire. This particular machine required 50 cents a shot; Krissy shelled out two bucks worth of quarters before snagging Felix by his conveniently enlarged head and negotiating him into the right position for retrieval.
Krissy then presented Felix to Athena, who, while having no idea who he was or the rich but now somewhat denatured cartoon history he represented, nevertheless was pleased to take possession of yet another goofy-looking stuffed animal. One has to wonder how Felix felt about it. He used to pal around with Bobby Jones, after all. Now he’s being slobbered over, literally, by a kid whose grandparents weren’t even gametes when he was in his heyday. Fame is fleeting.
Proof of this fact came when I began to sing the theme song to the “Felix the Cat” cartoon show to Athena, and Krissy looked at me as if I had been suddenly possessed by a jingle-writing demon. She had never heard the theme before. Which was sort of sad. This is Felix the Cat, after all. It’s not like we’re talking about one of the true off-brand cartoons here, like Heckle and Jeckle or Possible Possum. Even in his present humiliated state, he should rate some flicker of recognition. Besides, the tune was catchy:
Felix The Cat! The wonderful, wonderful cat!
Whenever he gets in a fix, he reaches into his bag of tricks!
Felix the Cat! The wonderful, wonderful cat!
You’ll laugh so much your sides will ache, your heart will go pitter pat,
Watching Felix, the wonderful cat!
Of course, looking at theme song now, you can see the decline of Felix’s popularity all over it. The cartoon show was from the 60s, after all, long after Felix’s heyday—his fame had dimmed enough that he had to downshift to the grind of episodic television, not unlike Bette Midler, Geena Davis, and the Sheens, pere et fils. This wasn’t a glamor shot at the beginning of the TV era; it was a numbing slog through 60s Saturday morning TV.
And it shows. Notice how they oversell his quality; not just a wonderful cat, but a wonderful wonderful cat, the phrase repeated twice in the space of three lines. Notice also the guarantee of constant gut-busting hilarity that even someone like the Marx Brothers couldn’t fill on such a demanding schedule—not to mention that phrased another way, the fourth line seems more like a warning than a promise of entertainment: NOTICE: Continued use of this cartoon will induce cramping and cardiac arrythmia. Yeah, give me some of that.
Let’s face it, the TV show was a desperation stab at a turnaround. And that was 40 years ago. Now he’s being fished out of a vending machine. If it’s any consolation to Felix, Athena really seems to like him. He’s still got it! Even if “it” has been consigned to the Plexiglas walls of a carnie attraction. It’s still show business. He’s still got an appreciative audience—it’s just a lot smaller. And more apt to chew on his plush little head. Bobby Jones never did that.