Mornings With Barney by Dick Wolfsie (e book reader .TXT) 📕

tell their neighbors they had fed a star. I did anticipate this, so I made an announcement over the train’s PA system requesting that “if you must feed him, please just give him a little.” Yes, that is what I said. So over the next hour three hundred people gave Barney a piece of their bran muffin and a slice of bacon. Every person on the train felt that Barney was there just to greet him or her. As friendly as I tried to be as I walked the train greeting viewers, it was clear why they had taken the train ride. “Which car is he in now?” people would ask. “Is he coming this way?”

At one point, he lingered at the feet of a woman who was in a wheelchair. He was always drawn to people who were physically challenged. I think he sensed they needed a little extra attention and people in wheelchairs had a much better angle for scratching his ears.

Once he had eaten so much he could barely walk, he crawled up on a seat next to the window to enjoy the scenic view. When the ride finally ended, everyone expressed their gratitude. “Let’s do that again soon,” many said. No, once was enough, I felt like saying. Based on the way Barney felt when he shuffled off the train, I think he had tired of the high-fiber part of his diet. But he was happy with the bacon.

During the train ride, I chatted with everyone. Opportunities like this provided me with important feedback about what people liked about our morning show. They loved our anchor team and approach to the news, which was much more laid back and informal than the other stations. People also loved to tell me about the dogs in their lives. It did seem that everyone had grown up with a beagle—a beagle, they said, that looked just like Barney.

Bingo. Another idea: A Barney-Look-Alike contest. It was another way to involve viewers in a segment and create a little chatter among people—still the very best way to boost ratings.

Two weeks later, I asked viewers to send me snapshots of their dogs. I would select the top thirty look-alikes and invite the pets and their owners to the studio for the final judging. Beagles are rather distinct, and with the photos I tried to find comparable colorings, weight, and height. I wanted a similar personality to Barney’s, too, but that was difficult to discern from a photo.

Somehow I should have okayed this idea with my boss, because the morning of the final beagle-off was total chaos. Thirty howling, sniffing, marking (that’s urinating) dogs were in an adjacent news studio. Even during the regular news breaks, viewers at home could hear the beagle convention next door. During the weather portion of the news, I walked on the set and handed meteorologist Randy Olis (who was standing in front of the weather map) six leashes, each connected to a Barney look-alike—and in many cases a Barney act-alike. Randy managed to get through the weather without it affecting his delivery. The rain he predicted for that day, however, never materialized. He later laughed and blamed it on the beagles. Meteorologists at the other stations also got it wrong that day, but they didn’t have the fun of being tethered to six hounds.

When the show concluded, I swore I would never do anything quite so hare-brained again. I should have put a Post-It note on my forehead, because three years later it was the second Barney Look-Alike Contest.

At the time, I had signed a deal with a local pet store, featuring Barney as its spokesdog. Normally, I resisted mixing my business arrangements with show content, but with this retailer as a sponsor, I could offer some valuable prizes to the winner.

Not only did Pet Supplies Plus offer a $500 shopping spree for the champ, but they also handed out a nifty gift package (dog food, treats, shampoo, leashes) just for showing up at the store. I knew that would bring in the beagle owners and make the contest a success.

I arrived at Pet Supplies Plus at 5 that morning and was elated to see about forty beagles and their masters panting for me. The aroma of the pet store had a stimulating effect on the hounds, who were baying and spraying as only beagles can. The owner went through a lot of paper towels. He was already having an anxiety attack as many of the beagles got off their leashes and were circling the store, sampling different brands of dog treats and taste-testing various brands of food. I realized how similar all beagles were. When hungry—which they always were—they could rip through a bag of dog food in seconds. I admired this because when feeding Barney at home, it usually took me ten minutes to pry open a new pack of Iams.

During each segment of the show, we featured several of the dogs and shared beagle stories on the air. Beagle owners were thrilled that their dogs could meet Barney. Barney was a stray who had become a star. This was America. Live your dream. Anything is possible.

During the show, as I crouched to scratch a few beagle ears, the door of the pet shop opened and in walked a portly gentlemen and his dog—a bulldog. Who, by the way, looked just like his owner. I walked over and bid the man good morning, then broke the news.

“Sir, this is a Barney Look-Alike contest. And that is not a beagle. That is a bulldog.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled. “So? I’ll lose. Now where’s my gift package?”

It was another classic Barney moment, not that Barney had delivered the punch line, but that still another viewer had been moved to not just watch the show, but to become part of the legend. This was another story I would repeat dozens of times and it was one of the funniest viewer ad-libs in my television experience. Funnier than most