An accidental bumpkin? Old-time radio listening, 27 December

The Judy Canova Show: Judy Discusses Her Diary (NBC, 1947)

In some ways, time has not been kind to Judy Canova. Outside the radio world, she may be remembered best—if at all—as the mother of one-time Soap co-star Diana Canova; inside the radio world, she may be remembered best as a Janie one-note, a boisterous bumpkin with a sackful of novelty songs and and an apparent inability to turn the volume down to a manageable level . . . like a mere ten.

And that is a shame, because at her best Judy Canova—descended directly from an Italian sculptor, Antonio Canova, whose Three Graces has a permanent home in the Louvre—transcended the limits imposed upon her, honestly enough, very early in her career. 

She had excellent comic timing and a singing voice that could be soul-tugging at times. And, if you took a second look, contrary to her once-famous publicity photos in pigtails and calico (which did, indeed, launch an unexpected campus fad in her first year on her own), with or without a shotgun in her hand, she was a beautiful woman whose calmly exotic eyes suggested romance, not rabble-rousing.

To see Judy Canova away from her radio image was to see an accidentally misplaced love aspiration you’d have wanted to dance on a moonlit balcony overlooking Venice. But the native Floridian who once had ambitions toward a more serious music career—before her early act with two siblings caught Rudy Vallee’s attention, and before her first marriage caught for her the characterisation she made famous—put her beauty at the service of a concept that was only slightly more subtle than a wrecking ball. 

At least, she played it that way on radio, with little of the subtlety that turned Lum & Abner into the hillcountry philosophickers they were at heart. She played an exuberant hayseed who pulled up from the Ozarks, made for the Hollywood hills, and proceeded to wreak little more than havoc upon the slickers she barely outwitted, often in spite of herself, and usually having to do with being as hungry as hungry got for male companionship. (Yes, she proved the concept could find and sustain an audience two decades before The Beverly Hillbillies tripped over oil in them thar hills. And she wasn’t addled by an addlepated Jethro Clampett, either)

 

And with a supporting cast who complemented rather than buried her (not to mention accepted her freewheeling encouragement—Mel Blanc’s eventual Speedy Gonzalez traces to his portrayal of Pedro the edgy gardener, and it was also with Canova that he refined the vocalisms famous later in Sylvester the cat), and writers who knew how to maneuver within the concept without being pinned by it, there was a reason she lasted a decade as a radio star. And, why the like of Fred Allen enjoyed having her as a guest star even after she hit with her own show. 

Tonight, she’s discussing her diary with Aunt Aggie (Ruth Perrott), to whom she translates the Mona Lisa's smile before deciding it’s high time to put some of her diary entries on the air. It’s somewhat late in the show’s run but it still has most of the meat of what made it work in the first place.

Pedro: Mel Blanc. Geranium: Ruby Dandridge. Benchley: Joseph Kearns. Announcer: Howard Petrie. Music: Charles Dent Orchestra, the Sports Men. Writers: Fred Fox, Henry Hoople, John Ward.

 

FURTHER CHANNEL SURFING . . .

The Fred Allen Show: Dr. Allen’s Clinic (NBC, 1939)—After spoofing the opening of Gone With the Wind and "interviewing" humourist Robert Benchley, three from the audience host a roundtable chat with the master on whether spouses should vacation together after each year's togetherness; and, the Mighty Allen Art Players (John Brown, Charles Cantor, Minerva Pious, Walter Tetley) spoof the analyst's office. The sponsor may have forced the master away from the Town Hall Tonight impression but he’s still at the top of his very considerable game. With Portland Hoffa. Announcer: Harry Von Zell. Music: Peter Van Steeden Orchestra, Wynn Murray. Writers: Fred Allen, Arnold Auerbach, Herman Wouk.

The Great Gildersleeve: Leroy Makes Nitro (NBC, 1942)—Leroy (Walter Tetley) is only too anxious to experiment with his new Christmas present—a chemistry set—and it may be just enough to make Gildy (Harold Peary) explode. Diehard fans consider this one of the show’s early no-questions-asked classics and you’ll be hard pressed to argue. Birdie: Lillian Randolph. Marjorie: Lurene Tuttle. Hooker: Earle Ross. Peavey: Richard LeGrand. Announcer: Ken Carpenter. Music: Claude Sweeten. Director: Cecil Underwood. Writers: John Whedon, Sam Moore.

The Whistler: The Double-Cross (CBS, 1942)—Living with the widowed detective who stopped him from going to reform school, and caring for his young son, a one-time hoodlum has to prove himself straight come Christmas Eve, when he discovers he's being framed for a safecracking at the store where the detective got him his job. Better than you probably had a right to expect, and surprisingly low in sugar. Cast: Unknown. The Whistler: Bill Forman. Music: Wilbur Hatch. (Whistling: Dorothy Roberts.) Writer/director: J. Donald Wilson.