Bob “Hoolihan” Wells must have been Irish, reflecting a piece of Cleveland’s immigrant history now nearly forgotten. “Big” Chuck Shodowski, on the other hand, was famously descended from Polish sires who currently populate–with conspicuous density–the Cleveland suburb of Parma. Together they hosted a long-running late night creature feature, showing B-rated horror films punctuated during commercial breaks by goofy gags and comedy skits. Li’l John Rinaldi was an oft-featured Italian midget who, after Hoolihan’s retirement to the sunny climes, took over co-hosting duties as Chuck’s diminutive sidekick.

The dominant comedic theme of the show was Chuck’s dutiful and good-natured zeal for poking fun at his own Cleveland-specific Polish heritage. But rather than refer to himself as a “Pol-lock” (as in: How many Pollocks does it take to change a light bulb?), he introduced his jokes and skits by coining an appropriately generic (but funny) term, saying instead, “There was this…certain…ethnic…electrician…”. Today, most Northeast Ohioans will chuckle with whimsical amusement when you ask them, “Hey, do you remember the Certain Ethnic…[Snow blower, pharmacist, etc.]?” Realizing the variety of cultures crammed colorfully into the Cleveland area, and self-effacingly aware of their own personal quirks, they never shied away from having fun with nationalities and race, neither their own nor someone else’s–they even featured a recurring superhero called “Soul Man”, surmounted by a thick afro and arriving in the nick of time accompanied by the sounds of an electric jazz piano (his mild-mannered alter-ego was Ed Tarboosh, a white Polish nerd).

As a notorious “Pollock”, Chuck would often dress the part, sporting the typical Parma attire; ugly wool sweater, threadbare old hat, and rumply trousers not quite long enough to hide white socks that peaked out over battered penny loafers. Cigar-puffing and zoologically mustachioed, he would stumble and bumble his hilarious way across our 1970’s television consoles, tuned to channel eight, and subject to frequent vertical role. Lively Polka music would accompany these sorties (anyone remember Dueling Accordions?).

Most of all, they relished football season. They would wear their team jerseys on the air. It was not unheard-of for Cleveland players themselves to show up in a comedy skit or two (they even coaxed an appearance out of Muhammad Ali). They were just like the rest of us. They lived and died with the fortunes of their beloved Browns, and hated the Steelers with a bitter and deathless loathing. We would arrive home from high school games on autumnal Friday nights, drink something hot to drive away the Snow Miser, and settle in for a scary 1950’s film and a couple of good belly laughs, courtesy of the corniest guys in Cleveland. This prepared us for a weekend of football contentment; Buckeyes on Saturday, Browns on Sunday, followed by a week of endurance until Friday night came and we could do it all over again.

This is not a eulogy. They are both still alive and, I have just learned, retired (I think). I speak in the past tense out of childhood nostalgia. From stupid jokes and musical parodies, to pizza-eating contests and lots of Browns loyalty, these knuckleheads made growing up in Ohio even more fun than it already was. They were local guys who had an unapologetically provincial outlook, were not above making local appearances, were not ashamed to read insipid mail from viewers of all ages, raised money for local charity groups, and never failed to have a great time in the process. My family and I could not claim to be Eastern Orthodox descendants of Soviet Bloc refugees. But that made little difference. Even if one’s name did not end with “ski”–or any other vowel sound for that matter–for a couple of hours every Friday night, everyone was a “certain ethnic” something-or-other.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009 at 7:20 pm and is filed under AFC, AFC North, Cleveland Browns, Football. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.