A letter from Patrick in memory of "Uncle" Floyd Vivino:
On the Fourth of July in 1975, my brother Michael and I came indoors from the holiday festivities and started flipping through television channels. We landed on Channel 68, an obscure local UHF New Jersey station. We stopped because it was showing a cheap skeleton marionette puppet awkwardly dancing to “In the Summertime” by Mungo Jerry. Soon the skeleton’s arm got tangled in his puppet strings. The unseen puppeteer began violently shaking the marionette, trying to free it. After many failed attempts, he gave up and dropped the puppet to the ground. The collapsed pile of bones and strings just lay there as the song played on and on.
WOW.
Mike and I immediately knew we were witnessing ART being made on local TV. When the song finally stopped, the host came on and muttered, “Who cares? It’s the Fourth of July. Nobody’s watching this, anyway.” That was my introduction to Floyd Vivino and his wonderful, surreal low-budget kids’ program, The Uncle Floyd Show.
Floyd was a totally unique individual and an old soul. The 1970’s was a time of disco and punk but he lived in a world of vaudeville and burlesque. With his immense talent and sense of humor, he created a fun, absurdist show that entertained its audience in a playful, honest way.
After watching that Fourth of July episode, my brother called the station and asked he could to write a story about The Uncle Floyd Show for New Jersey’s rock ’n’ roll newspaper The Aquarian Weekly. They said sure. And then put Floyd himself on the phone.
We met and interviewed Floyd at Pal’s Cabin restaurant in West Orange, across the street from the Channel 68 studio. This would be the first major article ever printed about him. Floyd was thrilled, and we soon became friends.
His show consisted of puppets (the lovable Oogie and Bones Boy), songs with Floyd on piano, reading fan mail, and funny skits with recurring characters. There were no scripts, just a general idea of where a story might go. Everything was improvised. That gave the show a spontaneous, handmade, real-life honesty and humor. It was a breath of fresh air. I encourage you to dig up some of these bits on YouTube. My friends and I were invited to stop by the studio anytime to watch live tapings. On occasion, Floyd would throw us into the show, with no rehearing. In costume, I became a semi-recurring character: Floyd’s cousin, Fat Dominic. Floyd’s direction would be:
“Come on the set, interrupt my song, and we’ll talk about Sunday dinner at Aunt Clara’s.”
Lights! Camera! Action!
Floyd gave me the opportunity to design the title cards for many of his show characters* including Julia Stepchild, Don Ho-Hum, Flojo the TV Clown, and Don Goomba. This was one of my first professional art jobs, while I was beginning college, and long before MUTTS.
At one point, we asked Floyd if he’d put our punk band on his show to perform one of our songs. He was reluctant at first, but eventually gave in. We became the first band to perform on the show, which led the way to many others including the Ramones, Cyndi Lauper, Bon Jovi, Squeeze. It became a cult show for rock and roll fans, and John Lennon and David Bowie both admitted to loving it.
In 1980, PM Magazine did a segment on the show which captured its essence:
I was deeply saddened by Floyd’s passing. What joy he brought to so many. The world needs good old Jersey boys like him more than ever. You can read more about Uncle Floyd in his New York Times obituary.
— Patrick
*Editor’s note: Here are some grainy examples of the title cards Patrick created for The Uncle Floyd Show that we found online:
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