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Synopsis
In present-day Clarksville, Tennessee, Cleary’s Delicatessen has been a beloved institution for nearly fifty years, built on family pride and Grandma Cleary’s legendary potato salad. But as business falters and a flashy new competitor opens across the street, owner Harlan Cleary pins his hopes on his socially awkward, unpredictable son Herb, who “means no harm” but keeps leaving chaos in his wake. When Herb takes liberties with the sacred potato salad recipe, a series of increasingly absurd mishaps spirals into catastrophe: food poisoning at a family picnic, bodies in the restrooms, a suspicious fire, and police at the door. As loyalties fracture and the Clearys scramble to contain the fallout, the play hurtles toward darkly comic disaster, asking how far a family will go to protect its legacy and whether good intentions are ever enough to save it.
Inspiration Set
Playwright Note
There’s something fascinating about institutions that have outlived their purpose. A deli that insists it’s still the best in town. A family that insists everything is fine. A recipe no one dares to write down because that would require admitting it can be replicated or improved.
Herb Cleary Meant No Harm began, for me, as a meditation on legacy; what we inherit, what we defend, and what we quietly tamper with when no one is looking. In Cleary’s Delicatessen, reputation does most of the heavy lifting. “Best potato salad you’ll ever eat” is repeated often enough that it becomes true, or at least unassailable. No one wants to be the first to say it tastes different. Or worse, that it never tasted that good to begin with.
The theater can feel like that sometimes.
We are very good at applause. We are very good at lifting one another up. We are very good at calling something “brave,” “important,” or “necessary.” We are less good at asking whether it is really any of those things. Encouragement becomes its own performance. Praise becomes protective. If we champion each other loudly enough, perhaps no one will notice the wobble in the foundation. After all, if I celebrate your genius, and you celebrate mine, who among us has to admit we’re still figuring it out?
In this play, everyone means well. They support. They protect. They reframe disaster as misunderstanding. They insist the recipe is sacred even as it curdles in real time. The tragedy is not malice but denial. Not cruelty, but complicity. It’s easier to blame the hot water, the competition, the market, the timing, the smoke – anything but the thing we refuse to examine.
And so, we form little families. We close ranks. We sponsor each other’s teams. We place our logos on the front and back of the same jersey. We reassure ourselves that intention outweighs outcome. We tell ourselves that if something goes wrong, it must have meant no harm.
I’m endlessly fascinated by that phrase. “He meant no harm.” As though meaning is the same as consequence. As though love, poorly measured, can’t be toxic.
If this play makes you laugh – and I hope it does – I also hope it leaves a faint aftertaste. Something just slightly off. Something you can’t quite name but can’t quite ignore. Because sometimes the most dangerous thing in the room isn’t the obvious villain; it’s the collective agreement not to look too closely.
Herb Cleary Meant No Harm began, for me, as a meditation on legacy; what we inherit, what we defend, and what we quietly tamper with when no one is looking. In Cleary’s Delicatessen, reputation does most of the heavy lifting. “Best potato salad you’ll ever eat” is repeated often enough that it becomes true, or at least unassailable. No one wants to be the first to say it tastes different. Or worse, that it never tasted that good to begin with.
The theater can feel like that sometimes.
We are very good at applause. We are very good at lifting one another up. We are very good at calling something “brave,” “important,” or “necessary.” We are less good at asking whether it is really any of those things. Encouragement becomes its own performance. Praise becomes protective. If we champion each other loudly enough, perhaps no one will notice the wobble in the foundation. After all, if I celebrate your genius, and you celebrate mine, who among us has to admit we’re still figuring it out?
In this play, everyone means well. They support. They protect. They reframe disaster as misunderstanding. They insist the recipe is sacred even as it curdles in real time. The tragedy is not malice but denial. Not cruelty, but complicity. It’s easier to blame the hot water, the competition, the market, the timing, the smoke – anything but the thing we refuse to examine.
And so, we form little families. We close ranks. We sponsor each other’s teams. We place our logos on the front and back of the same jersey. We reassure ourselves that intention outweighs outcome. We tell ourselves that if something goes wrong, it must have meant no harm.
I’m endlessly fascinated by that phrase. “He meant no harm.” As though meaning is the same as consequence. As though love, poorly measured, can’t be toxic.
If this play makes you laugh – and I hope it does – I also hope it leaves a faint aftertaste. Something just slightly off. Something you can’t quite name but can’t quite ignore. Because sometimes the most dangerous thing in the room isn’t the obvious villain; it’s the collective agreement not to look too closely.
Production History
None to date.
Development History
HERB CLEARY MEANT NO HARM received a public development staged reading as part of Lakewood Playhouse’s inaugural Festival of New Voices on Wed, Oct 15th, 2025. The reading was directed by Luke Amundson, assistant directed by Sophia Reeve, stage managed by Maisha Rice, and featured the following cast: Kerry L. Bringman as Harlan Cleary, Jenifer Gillis-Rifenbery as Emma Campbell/Bernadette Sweets/Joelyn Pitzer, Joseph Grant as Clayton Barksdale, Nyah Hart as Ree Ree Tate/Tina Esposito, Asante Hayes as Herb Cleary, Cara Hazzard as Judy Boyd, Mason Hoch as Dereck Hicks/Reed Callaway, Mari Layson Roy as Erin Barnes/Sarabeth Millard, and Brie Vaughn as Arlene Daniels/Angie Cabrera.
Awards/Recognition
None to date.
Reviews/Recommendations
“Craig Houk’s delicious knack for redneck repartee is one of my absolute favorite things, and that gift is on full display here: A Robert Altman movie’s worth of diner denizens cheerfully muddle through one very peculiar day, with disturbing and hilarious results. Underneath the barbs and shenanigans, you’ll also find an allegory about institutional rot - showing how dumb ain’t harmless, and good intentions and benign neglect can allow poison to fester and grow.”
Lakewood Playhouse (Lakewood, WA - 2025)
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REMINDER: No presentation or production of HERB CLEARY MEANT NO HARM, in whole or in part, is allowed unless permission is granted by the playwright or his designated agents.