The Day Uncle Looney Met the World's Biggest Snake

As part of my misspent youth, I did radio and a little bit of television before I finally got an honest (?) job.

At age sixteen I had my own radio show. Naturally, it was The Ross Hart Show on WPXI, 910 on the AM dial in Roanoke. I also worked at a few other stations.

But this story isn't about radio.

It's about the three months during the summer of 1972 when I worked at a Roanoke television station.

The station was WRFT, Channel 27, Roanoke. It had been put together on a shoestring, and that shoestring kept fraying as the station struggled to survive. Most of the equipment was "used" when we got it. Well used. Our studio cameras weren't even color. They were black and white. That's a real shoestring operation.

My primary job was as the switcher, which meant I was responsible for pushing the right buttons so the viewers saw what they were supposed to see at exactly the right second. My secondary duty was running one of the studio cameras and keeping it pointed at the talent whenever we taped or broadcast a show.

The studio sat on top of Little Brushy Mountain west of Salem. The good news was there were plenty of berry bushes to snack on. The bad news was that the snakes liked the berries, too.

Back in those days, one FCC requirement for keeping a broadcast license was airing public affairs programming "to inform the public." Our version of public affairs was a reincarnation of an old Roanoke-area program called The Eb and Andy Show. The original show had been bluegrass. Ours wasn't.

We had a host and a sidekick who discussed things, invited guests to discuss more things, and when all else failed they'd introduce a public service film and then discuss that.

The host and straight man was a great fellow named Jeff. I'd worked with Jeff in radio, too.

The sidekick was Tom, who dressed up as a hillbilly character named "Uncle Looney." He wore overalls, a Confederate cap, and a bright red beard. He sat in a rocking chair and spoke in a thick hillbilly drawl.

Now our studio air-conditioning system had broken down, and the station couldn't afford to fix it. But we still had to produce The Eb and Andy Show every day.

In July.

A hot July.

One day the weather outside was actually pleasant. Blue skies, a gentle breeze, and a little cooler than usual. The producer decided we ought to move the show outdoors and set it up in the parking lot right beside the studio doors.

Everything was ready. The microphones had been connected and tested. The cameras were adjusted for the lighting. The program before ours was winding down, and we were maybe two minutes from going live.

Davis – the other cameraman – and I were chatting with the talent.

Davis happened to mention that he'd killed a copperhead that Uncle Looney had spotted a week earlier.

Looney was already in character and expressed his gratitude for dealing with that "nasty ole' snake."

About that time, another snake came out from under the studio building, slithered right between Jeff and Looney, and headed on down the side of the mountain.

There wasn't time to move the set.

We had to open the show exactly where we were.

Except Jeff and Looney both had their feet up on the table with the soles of their shoes pointed directly at the cameras. They looked at each other, then the camera, then back to each other, then introduced the show.

Their introduction included remarks about their mothers teaching them to keep their feet off the table. But, they explained, they had a perfectly good excuse.

The snake.

Then we launched into the show.

About ten minutes later, a tremendous burst of laughter came across our headsets from the control room.

Apparently, earlier that very day, one of the crew members had stopped by Woolworth's and purchased their novelty item of the summer.

A rubber snake.

The kind made of soft rubber that jiggles when you touch it.

Woolworth's sold two sizes. There was the $1.95 model, about eighteen inches long, and the deluxe $3.95 version, stretching nearly three feet.

Yep. He went whole hawg and bought the big one.

The director looked at him and simply said:

"Do it."

From my position, I watched him sneak onto the set and toss that rubber snake smack dab in the middle of the table.

It hit and started jiggling like it was alive.

The talent reacted quickly.

Very quickly.

Would you believe instantaneously?

Jeff was suddenly at the very end of his microphone cord off one side of the set.

And Uncle Looney?

That's the only time in my life I've ever seen somebody do a backflip out of a rocking chair.

He landed at the very end of his microphone cord on the opposite side of the set.

The amazing thing was that they both stayed in character.

Especially Looney.

Nothing had to be bleeped out, not that we had the equipment to do it anyway.

In an excited hillbilly drawl, he hollered:

"Goodness gracious! What in tarnation was DAT THANG?"

We went to commercial.

When we came back live, the rest of the show mostly consisted of two grown men trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing.

 And honestly, it was probably the best public affairs program WRFT ever aired. If there’d been YouTube it would have gone viral.