Old-time radio fans have, of course, long been aware that actor-singer Harold Peary became immortalized as radio's Throckmorton P. Gildersleeve on both Fibber McGee & Molly (from 1939-41) and his own starring spin-off series, The Great Gildersleeve, beginning in 1941. Gildersleeve continued on radio until 1957—but Hal left the show at the end of the 1949-50 season to be replaced by sound-a-like Willard Waterman.

The reason for Peary’s departure was the subject of speculation among OTR fans for many years, with many believing that he probably held out for more money or ownership in the show (Peary had tangled with his sponsor, Kraft Foods, previously on this issue back in August 1945). But with the publication of Bear Manor Media’s The Great Gildersleeve by Ben Ohmart and Charles Stumpf, it was revealed that Hal’s exit from the series came about as a result of the actor succumbing to CBS chairman William S. Paley’s “talent raids”:

In an unwise decision, Peary’s agent signed him to a contract with CBS in the belief that the sponsor would be willing to change networks. But Kraft did not want to switch from NBC and quickly found another show to sponsor. Peary had been caught in the middle of a very awkward situation. As a result he was forced to relinquish the role that had made him famous.

So Hal Peary became, to paraphrase the title of Edward Everett Hale’s famous short story, “a man without a sitcom.” Fortunately, his new bosses were dedicated to finding him a suitable vehicle for his talents, and Peary even received the “created by” credit for Honest Harold (also known as The Hal Peary Show), a sitcom that debuted over his new CBS network home September 17, 1950.

Peary played “Honest” Harold Hemp, “popular radio entertainer of Melrose Springs”; an eligible bachelor who lived with his widowed mother Emily (Kathryn Card and later Jane Morgan) and nephew Lero…I mean, Marvin (Sammy Ogg, Stuffy Singer), doing a homemaker’s program on the town’s local radio station. He frequently locked horns with the station’s boss, Stanley Peabody (Olan Soule) and romanced the station’s switchboard operator Bess…I mean, Gloria (played by Mrs. Hal Peary, Gloria Holliday).

Like Gildersleeve, Harold was a bit of a ladies’ man: in addition to Gloria, he also dated Southern belle Leil…I mean, Florabell Breckenridge (Shirley Mitchell) and another gal named Evelina (Mary Jane Croft). Harold also palled around with a couple of cronies in Old Doc “Yak-Yak” Yancy (Joseph Kearns), who was kind of a cross between Gildersleeve’s Peavey and Judge Hooker, and Pete the marshal (not Peter Marshall), portrayed by Parley Baer.

I suppose you’ve caught on by now that I’m having a little tongue-in-cheek difficulty delineating between Peary’s previous success and this new show—simply put, the fact that Honest Harold is essentially Gildersleeve Lite is what makes the series so disconcerting to today’s OTR listener. Peary sang frequently on the show (like Gildersleeve), opened the program with the trademark “dirty laugh,” and exchanged good-natured badinage with announcer Bob Lemond during the closing credits…something that he had done previously on, well, The Great Gildersleeve. The orchestra was even led by one-time Gildersleeve maestro Jack Meakin. For a performer given an opportunity to control his own program, Peary seemed a little gunshy in breaking out of the Gildersleeve mold.

I listened to a February 28, 1951 broadcast of Honest Harold last night at work, in which our hero finds himself threatened by one Willis Cider (Leif Erickson)—a burly bruiser who is none other than fiancé to Florabelle. Peeved that Harold has stolen his girl, Willis vows to punch his lights out, but Harold gets a reprieve when he finds out that his rival has enlisted in the Air Force (I’m curious as to whether the fact that this sustained series contained many public service announcements for the Air Force had any influence on this direction in this particular script). But when Harold discovers that Willis has failed the physical…well, the wacky complications ensue.

Honest Harold was written by Gene Stone, Bill Danch and Jack Robertson, and directed by Norman Macdonnell—quite a change-of-pace from his usual Suspense and Escape output (and later, of course, Gunsmoke). I don’t particularly care for the series, simply because it just comes off as warmed-over Gildersleeve, but OTR historian John Dunning is a little more laudatory, commenting that “shows on tape reveal funny writing and well-drawn characters, and the supporting cast and production crew were first-rate.” If your interest has been piqued, you’ll be glad to hear that all 38 shows (including the pilot) are extant today and in circulation. Ultimately, it’s your call.
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