If you grew up in Canada or the UK during the early eighties, you probably have a Pavlovian response to a certain harmonica melody. It’s that bittersweet, wanderlust-heavy tune that signals the departure of the most productive drifter in television history. We’re talking about The Littlest Hobo, a show that somehow turned a stray German Shepherd into a national icon and a symbol of ultimate freedom.
But honestly? Most of us remember it through a haze of nostalgia that skips over just how weird and fascinating the production actually was. People call it "Lassie with a backpack," but that’s not quite right. Lassie had a family. The Hobo? He had a mission and a serious aversion to domesticity.
The Real Dogs Behind the Legend
One of the biggest misconceptions about The Littlest Hobo tv series is that there was just one dog. There wasn't. While the credits usually just listed "London," the role was actually a revolving door of highly trained German Shepherds.
Chuck Eisenmann, the man who owned and trained them, was a bit of a character himself. A former minor league baseball player, he didn't use standard "sit-stay" commands. He treated the dogs like students. He claimed he taught them to understand English, French, and German concepts. He’d tell a dog to "go find the man in the red shirt who is hiding behind the blue car," and the dog would do it.
- London: The original star of the 1958 film and the 1963 series.
- Bo: The primary star of the 1979 revival.
- Toro, Litlon, and Thorn: Relatives of London who stepped in for specific stunts or scenes.
London actually died on the very first day of production for the 1979 revival. It was a tragedy the crew had to scramble to cover. Toro ended up taking most of the Season 1 duties, while a younger dog named Bo eventually became the face of the show for the rest of its six-season run.
The "London" look was very specific. These weren't the sloped-back, show-style German Shepherds you see today. They had "reverse masks"—white or light-colored fur around their eyes that made them look almost like Huskies or wolves. It gave them a soulful, intelligent expression that looked incredible on camera.
Why The Littlest Hobo TV Series Was So Strange
Most TV shows rely on a "hero's journey" or a consistent cast of characters. The Littlest Hobo tv series threw that out the window. Every week was a brand-new pilot. New town, new family, new problem. The only constant was the dog.
One week he’s solving a murder. The next, he’s stopping a Soviet spy plot. In one particularly intense episode, he basically prevents a plague outbreak. The stakes were wildly inconsistent, and that was part of the charm.
The Guest Star Carousel
Because the show filmed in Canada (mostly around Ontario), it became a revolving door for Canadian talent and Hollywood stars looking for a quick paycheck or a scenic trip north. You’d be watching and suddenly realize, "Wait, is that DeForest Kelley from Star Trek?"
Yes. Yes, it was.
The guest list for the 1979-1985 run is a "who’s who" of 20th-century character actors:
- Mike Myers: Made one of his earliest appearances as a kid in the episode "Boy on Wheels."
- Megan Follows: Long before Anne of Green Gables, she was helping the dog solve crimes.
- Al Waxman: A Canadian staple who appeared multiple times.
- Michael Ironside: Before he was the ultimate cinematic villain, he was just another guy the Hobo helped out.
The Song That Wouldn't Die
You can’t talk about this show without talking about "Maybe Tomorrow." It is, quite arguably, the most famous Canadian folk song that wasn't written by Leonard Cohen or Joni Mitchell.
Terry Bush, a jingle writer, and John Crossman wrote it in 1977. Ironically, the show's producers originally hated it. They thought it was too country. They actually went to New York to hire a "professional" team to write a jazz theme. That version was a total flop, so they crawled back to Terry Bush.
The lyrics are what really hit home. "There's a voice that keeps on calling me / Down the road is where I'll always be." It’s a song about the fear of commitment. It’s a song about the nomadic spirit. Every episode ended with the dog walking away from a perfectly good home while that harmonica wailed. It was heartbreaking for a six-year-old to watch.
Technical Oddities and "The Tape Look"
If you watch the 1970s revival today, it looks... different. That’s because it was shot on 1-inch videotape instead of film. Most American shows of that era, like The A-Team or Knight Rider, were shot on 35mm film, which gives them a cinematic depth.
The Littlest Hobo tv series looks like a local news broadcast from 1982. This was a cost-saving measure, but it ended up hurting the show's syndication potential in the United States. American broadcasters found the "video look" cheap. However, for fans, that grainy, immediate look is part of the nostalgia. It feels real. It feels like it was filmed in your own backyard in Burlington or Oshawa.
The "Hobo" Philosophy
There’s a weirdly deep philosophy under the surface of the show. The dog is essentially a secular saint. He arrives, fixes the broken lives of humans who are often too stupid or too stubborn to help themselves, and then refuses any reward.
He doesn't want the steak. He doesn't want the warm bed. He just wants to go back to the highway.
Chuck Eisenmann actually wrote books about his training philosophy, like Stop, Sit, and Think. He believed dogs were capable of reason, not just Pavlovian response. When you watch the Hobo "think" on screen—tilting his head, looking at a specific object, "calculating" his next move—it doesn't feel like a trick. It feels like a performance.
Practical Ways to Revisit the Series
If you’re looking to scratch that nostalgia itch, you have a few options.
- Streaming: Most of the 1979 series is available on various free, ad-supported streaming platforms (like CTV’s own app in Canada or YouTube).
- The Original Film: Seek out the 1958 movie. It’s much more melodramatic and features the "original" London.
- The Music: Terry Bush eventually released a full version of the theme song due to popular demand. It’s on most major music streaming services.
The Littlest Hobo tv series remains a bizarre, beautiful anomaly in television history. It was a show where the lead actor never spoke, never got paid, and never stayed for the sequel. In a world of gritty reboots and complex anti-heroes, there’s something genuinely refreshing about a dog who just wants to make sure you don’t get trapped in a burning forest.
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To truly understand the impact of the show, try watching the episode "The Last Job" or "The Trapper." They showcase the dog's ability to carry an entire narrative without a single line of dialogue. It’s a masterclass in animal acting that hasn't really been replicated since.