Behind the Scenes of The Richest Cat in the World

Among the long list of cat actors who made their mark on the big (or even small) screen, a special place must be held for the talented flame-point Siamese thespian named Palmer who starred in The Disney Sunday Movie: The Richest Cat in the World. Palmer was trained and owned by Ray Berwick and co-trained by Berwick’s nephew Steve Berens and Bryan Renfro.

The Disney Sunday Movie was basically The Wonderful World of Disney rechristened in 1986 when Michael Eisner not only took over as CEO of the Disney Corporation but ended up introducing the weekly films. During his introduction of this movie he was seated with Palmer, whom he refers to as Leo playing “Cat” (it’s possible they called him Leo not to cause confusion for the tiny tots about to watch the movie). It’s also not very clear if the shot of Palmer on a man’s lap saying thank you was shot on Eisner’s lap or a stand-in (very possibly the latter). It is clear that something was placed on the cat actor’s paw during Eisner’s segment to keep him occupied.

As if to add to the confusion, one ad for the film from a TV Guide even shows a completely different cat!

One of the most unique things about Palmer’s performance in the film was his ability to “talk” — in other words move his mouth while an actor supplied the voice (one source credits Larry Hagman for providing Leo’s voice but it doesn’t really sound like Hagman.) This reminds one of Mr. Ed, the talking horse who starred in his own television series. While it was generally believed that peanut butter was used to make Mr. Ed move his lips, it appears that a nylon string was initially used to move the animal’s lips, but reportedly the horse actor eventually learned to move his lips on cue. Clearly a cat is not going to tolerate a string pulling its mouth. And the theory that the cat is simply eating something while the voice is dubbed isn’t plausible because there are scenes in which the cat actor is sitting quite still and then starts “talking.” So how was it done?

The process was explained in a March 5, 1986 article by Terry Wilson published in the Tucson Citizen:

How a Movie Cat Came to ‘Talk’

     Aggression, a joy for life, guts and spunk were qualities Steve Berens looked for in casting the starring role for Walt Disney Production’s “The Richest Cat in the World.”
     Berens, a 27-year-old animal trainer from Acton, Calif., found all those qualities and more in a 4-year-old friend of his named Palmer.
     Palmer, a cream-and-red colored feline with bright blue eyes, had the right look for the engrossing role. He had a good temperament. And he knew how to “talk” on command.
     Berens said he trained Palmer to “talk” when Palmer was a youngster. “He’s the only cat in the industry that can do that,” he said of Palmer’s talent.
     Beren’s employer and uncle, Ray Berwick (who trained birds for the Alfred Hitchcock film, “The Birds”) adopted Palmer, a homeless kitten, four years ago. One day, as Berens worked with Palmer looking for signs of talent, he saw Palmer chew on something. He said he decided to make the mouth movements Palmer used into a behavior.
     Using food as a positive reinforcement, Berens trained Palmer to move his mouth when he gave the command, “talk.” When Palmer cooperated, he got a morsel of something tasty, like a piece of hot dog or a cat snack as a reward.
     “You work cats with a system of positive reinforcement like you’d use on a dog,” Berens said. “In any kind of training, you communicate with them. You spend a lot of time with them and they come to understand what you’re trying to accomplish as the relationship builds,” he added.
     But, he added, “It’s much easier to get a dog to work with you than it is a cat. Cats are, a lot of times, more independent. They don’t want to please you as much as dogs do.”
     To get Palmer to do his best, Berens said he gave him lots of affection and lots of food rewards. In exchange, Palmer, “carried this entire film. He hung in there and he handled the show.”
     Palmer, who goes by the name “Leo” in the movie, inherits a $5 million fortune from his deceased master and he becomes the richest cat in the world. Leo is kidnapped by his deceased master’s nephew and his wife, who do not know he can talk.
     Some children friends of Leo, who know he can talk, try to rescue him. They race to find Leo before he can be declared legally dead in a court of law and before his inheritance goes to the nephew and his wife.
     Palmer learned a lot to prepare for the role. He learned how to leaf through a telephone book and find a telephone number. He learned how to knock the receiver off a telephone, how to push buttons to dial a number and how to talk into the telephone, Berens said. (CC note: it’s pretty impressive if Palmer actually learned how to look up a specific telephone number! As for pushing the buttons on the phone, that was clearly accomplished with a fake paw.) And he put up with human co-stars who had to scream at him in the movie — something that most cats would happily or fearfully leave behind.
     Palmer was a strong dose of good news for the folks at Walt Disney Productions, who told Berens they thought they would have to resort to animation to get a cat to “talk.” Other trainers told them cats couldn’t be trained to make mouth movements that resemble speech.
     When Berens introduced the producers to Palmer, “he had the job almost on the spot,” Berens said. But the two-hour movie for ABC-TV’s successful “Disney Sunday Movie” was the hardest job Berens has ever had.
     “It was more or less a dog job,” he said, adding the movie would have been more suitable for a patient dog.
     But with help from two stand-in cats who performed non-action scenes for Palmer, Berens said he and Palmer had a good time.
     “It was a lot of fun. I think he enjoyed it. I think he enjoyed all the attention,” Berens said. “I’d like to see this one become a series.”

Palmer was not only a star on screen but made personal appearances around the country. Berwick had a history of putting his performing animals on stage for special shows, often playing limited engagements in theme parks (although usually helmed by other trainers). One such show was called The Animal Actors Revue. In an article in the Entertainment Brief from the Ukiah Daily Journal on July 24, 1986 titled “Movie Star Animals Entertain in Ukiah,” Palmer is mentioned specifically as part of the Burwick (sic) Movie Star Animals, appearing alongside Boomer the canine star, Fred the cockatoo from Baretta, and an orangutan named Linc (also sic). A similar show called Animals of Distinction would run several years later headed by nephew Steve Berens as the featured trainer (although we have no evidence that Palmer appeared in those shows). That show was named for Berens’ company which still runs today.

Palmer was also part of a nationwide tour which Berwick undertook in 1986 to promote his book Ray Berwick’s Complete Guide to Training Your Cat.

One night of this tour was covered in a very unblinking way in a 1986 nationwide article by Knights News Service written by Dan Geringer (which possibly sheds a more honest light on the past methods of some animal trainers):

Cat’s On a Roll, but Boomer’s Gone Bust

     PHILADELPHIA — In town to promote his new book on training your cat to jump through a hoop and relieve itself in your toilet, Ray Berwick holed up at the Holiday Inn in Old City the other day, accompanied by this talking cat, Palmer, and his semi-famous TV dog, Boomer.
     Boomer has a semi-famous attitude, the kind of thing you see in “Love Boat” used-to-be’s reduced to running around town clutching scrapbooks full of their own press clippings, desperately pursuing People Page reporters, pleading, “Hey, doll, how ’bout a little ink?”
     Boomer had his own NBC series, “Here’s Boomer,” from 1980 to 1982. That was back in the dark days at NBC when “BJ and the Bear” — which depicted the intimate friendship between a non-actor and an orangutan — was considered Restoration Comedy.
     Week after week, Boomer played a kind of low-budget Lassie who solved the problems of suburban families as long as it didn’t cost too much. Week after week, he won everybody over with his waif-like charm. He was Molly Ringwald without the princess pout.
     Boomer stretches out on Berwick’s bed and watches “Bye Bye Birdie” on the big-screen color TV. The picture is on. The sound is not. Ann-Margret is doing the title song. She is wearing something clingy and pink and moving in a way that makes heterosexual a fun thing to be. Boomer pays close attention.
     Berwick interrupts Boomer’s reverie by calling his name. Boomer bounds off the bed and stands at attention, ready for action. Berwick stands behind him and delivers a series of clipped commands so rapidly that, in executing them, Boomer looks like a film of himself being run in fast forward and reverse.
     “Sit,” Berwick says. “Back up. Stay. Lie down. Crawl. Put your head down. Put your head up. Wave. Back up. Go lame. Speak. Cock your head. Jump.”
     Boomer turns around, leaps into Berwick’s arms and covers his face with mutt saliva. “Here’s Boomer” may be long gone but the need to please still burns like a bonfire in Boomer’s vaudeville heart.
     Palmer the Talking Cat, on the other hand, just finished starring in Walt Disney’s “The Richest Cat in the World.” Unlike Boomer, Palmer is hot. Palmer is now. Palmer is happening. Palmer is purebred. A flame-point Siamese with big blue eyes, Palmer walks like a cat who takes meetings.
     While Boomer flops himself back down on Berwick’s bed to catch another eyeful of Ann Margret, Berwick asks Palmer to talk. Palmer won’t talk. “He’s got an earache,” Berwick says apologetically, while Palmer shoots him a cynical sneer. “When he’s feeling all right, I can’t shut him up.”
     Berwick is a small, thin man, neatly attired in a charcoal suit, who could easily pass for Ricardo Montalban’s stunt double — same hair, same toothy smile, same brown eyes.
     The main difference is that Berwick has a child’s clicker toy and a pocket full of tiny meatballs on his person at all times. Positive reinforcements. Also, he hisses a lot, loudly, pawing the air with his right hand while he is doing so. Negative reinforcements.
     Berwick first attracted national attention in Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” by training the evil seagull who drew blood from Tippi Hefren’s forehead and the flock of crazed ravens who tries to eat the entire fourth grade of Bodega Bay, Calif.
     Mellowing in later years, Berwick taught Fred the Cockatoo to answer Baretta’s telephone (“Al-lo? Al-lo?”) and trained Bandit the Dog to suffer the saccharine mewlings of little Laura Ingalls in “Little House on the Prairie” without going for her throat.
     Currently, Berwick is on a cross-country tour promoting his paperback, Ray Berwick’s Complete Guide to Training Your Cat (HPBooks, $6.95), which explains how you can convince your cat to sit, stay, lie down, roll over, wave bye-bye, speak, beg, walk on its hind legs, fetch, jump over hurdles, jump through hoops, jump onto your shoulder, do a backwards somersault, walk a tightrope and be a hearing-ear cat.
     The 224-page book contains a 70-page section on teaching your cat to use and then flush the toilet. It is illustrated with photographs of cats straining to master this technique. The expressions on their faces are about what you’d expect facial expressions to be in a book devoted to training human beings to use the litter box.
     “I put all that stuff in the book because the potty-training thing is kind of a novelty in cat circles right now,” Berwick says with a world-weary smile, an artist who is not above a modicum of commercial compromise. “To be perfectly honest with you, all my cats use a litter box.”
     Clicking his clicker and hissing his head off, Berwick sits on the side of the bathtub and tries to maneuver Palmer into position on the Holiday Inn toilet seat for a photograph.
     After putting up with this for a few minutes, Palmer sends Berwick a look that says, One more hiss and you’re a dead man. Then Palmer walks out of the bathroom without a backward glance.

     To be perfectly honest with you,” Berwick says dejectedly, “the toilet-training technique is only for neutered cats. If you try it with an unneutered male, his spray will hit the wall two or three feet above the floor.” Berwick follows Palmer out of the bathroom.
     Boomer leaps off the bed and runs to greet Berwick, wagging his entire butt, ready to do anything for a pat on the head and a meatball.
     Boomer wiggles over to the chair, hides behind it, pokes his nose through the slats on the chair back, and works his sad-eyed waif bit to the max.
     “I’ve been tired since I got up this morning,” Berwick says sleepily. “I feel like I ran into a wall or something. I think I’ll lie down for a little while.”
     Boomer holds his pose and waits for his reward.

Palmer and Boomer (most likely accompanied by Berwick) also made an appearance on the popular Philadelphia kids’ show Captain Noah and his Magical Ark on March 28, 1986, a video we would dearly love to find one day!

Sadly the film is not widely known today as being part of the Disney library (although it is available on DVD, it has yet to appear on Disney Plus) but it did receive some repeat viewings on television back in the day. Our favorite listing for a repeat of the movie came from the December 30, 1989 issue of The Daily Telegraph which includes in the description, “From Disney, a talking cat called Leo, played superbly by Palmer. But aren’t all cats excellent actors?”

We couldn’t agree more!