Walter Tetley

Walter Tetley was a giant in a world inhabited by scores of immensely talented colleagues.  He rose to success on his talent, but could only go so far, his career and even his personal life hindered and ultimately crippled because of a physical anomaly.  But since his real bread and butter, and genius, was his voice, he was fortunate to come of age in the first half of the twentieth century when radio was the predominant popular entertainment. Here, he shines.

His story is chronicled in Walter Tetley – For Corn’s Sake by Ben Ohmart (Albany, GA: BearManor Media, 2016).  This is the second edition of the book, and the author notes that if further information becomes available, he would like to issue a third updated edition, recounting the trail he followed to find what information he was able to gather almost like a detective story.  I like the BearManor Media books, a publishing company devoted to the lesser-known stories of the entertainment world, and I’m glad there’s a place where these kinds of books can be fostered.  Mr. Ohmart includes a quite comprehensive list of Walter Tetley’s radio and film work, though his film career was rather brief and featured mostly uncredited roles as bellhops and delivery boys.

His misfortune was a congenital hormonal defect, possibly Kallmann syndrome, which prevented the onset of puberty.  This obviously affects the body in many ways including endocrine and bone problems, the failure of reaching sexual maturation also resulting in stunted growth and a lack of an “adult” appearance.  Any discussion of Walter Tetley invariably calls forth this mysterious condition, the fact that his age was always recorded in the press as much younger than he really was to cover for it, and when even after hormone shots that led to a growth spurt, his child’s voice never changed, he never grew facial hair, and the child’s roles he took had to sustain him for the rest of his life.  Even his appearance in middle age, with a face that seemed puckered, leathery, heavily lined and somewhat jaundiced, prevented him from achieving a film career as a character actor worthy of his prodigious talent. Even his ability to form personal relationships was stunted.  His fellow actors admired his talent and professionalism, but claimed they never really got to know him. Though he belonged to civic organizations and was a faithful supporter of charitable causes, he lived a lonely life and never seemed to fit in.

He found work as a voice actor in cartoons, and fans of The Bullwinkle Show fondly recall his turn as Sherman, the boy that the genius dog Mr. Peabody adopted.

But toward the end of his life there were fewer cartoons made, radio was all but dead, and there was no call for his talent in movies or television.  A few commercials sustained him.  He worked when he could, but medical issues, including a terrible accident he suffered riding his motorcycle, racked his body and saddled him with considerable medical expenses.  He died at 60 in 1975.

But listening to Walter Tetley on Old Time Radio broadcasts is pure delight, and he lives again, towering above his castmates in timing and inflection.  One of his earlier long-term gigs was the Coast to Coast on a Bus show broadcast from New York in the 1930s where he performed a variety of characters in a variety of accents.  His ear was uncanny.  (Perhaps the most famous child actor from this program was Ann Blyth.)  His next big career move was with The Great Gildersleeve, in which he performed for some 17 years from the late 1930s to the early 1950s.  He played Leroy, the nephew of Throckmorton P. Gildersleeve, with Harold Peary first in the title role and later Willard Waterman.  He was the good kid, the sometimes bane of his sister, beloved by Birdie the housekeeper played by Lillian Randolph, and the mischievous, occasional thorn in the side to his bachelor uncle.  He was likeable, funny, and with comic timing that never missed a beat.  “For corn’s sake!”  was his signature exclamation of frustration.

He also had a role on The Phil Harris-Alice Faye Show where he played the grocery delivery boy Julius Abruzzio, with a Brooklyn accent and cartoon-like explosions of outrage, mirth, and incredulousness that is utterly hysterical.  His being the foil of, and often foiling in return, Phil Harris and his troublesome sidekick Frankie Remley, is one of the highlights of the show.  These programs were broadcast some 70 years ago, and Julius will make you laugh out loud as if the years melt away or didn’t matter at all.

Mr. Tetley’s at the mic again.  And he’s a natural.

Have a listen to a couple of shows:  Here’s Tetley as Julius in The Phil Harris-Alice Faye Show from October 1949.  He’s a witness to a brawl that Phil started and now Phil and Remley have to keep him from testifying. 

Here he is as Leroy, home sick with the flu in an episode of The Great Gildersleeve from February 1946.

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Jacqueline T. Lynch is the author of AnnBlyth: Actress. Singer. Star. and Memories in Our Time - Hollywood Mirrors and Mimics the Twentieth Century. Her newspaper column on classic films, Silver Screen, Golden Memories is syndicated nationally.  Her new book, a collection of posts from this blog - Hollywood Fights Fascism - is available here on Amazon.