Mornings With Barney (17 page)

Barney never attained the kind of stature
enjoyed by Elvis Presley, but a few comparisons should not go unnoticed. Both celebrities enjoyed doughnuts and peanut butter, and both were favorite subjects of artists who captured the charm and charisma of these unique personalities through every imaginable medium. Happily, there is no known depiction of Barney on a velvet canvas. I happily yield that distinction to the King.

Over the years, packages arrived via UPS, bundles appeared on my desk at the TV station, and boxes were just dumped on my front porch. The contents were the true spectrum of trash to treasure, but every painting, carving, sculpture, or drawing represented a genuine attempt by viewers—whether they had a smidgen of talent or not—to feel a part of Barney's legacy. Now their love of this little street dog had been expressed in a very concrete way. And one time it actually was concrete. This was their method of saying thanks for all the smiles and laughs Barney provided every morning.

It reached the point where “Barney” was all over the house. He was on the walls, in drawers, under our bed, on shelves in the garage, on the pool table in the basement. Unlike promotional T-shirts that I was given after a TV remote, I couldn't possibly discard or give away any of this memorabilia that slowly but surely was taking over my house like the plant in
Little Shop of Horrors.
On rare occasions when I was on a cleaning binge, I would chuck something, then hours later I'd fish it out of the garbage, wondering how the elderly woman from Tipton would feel if she knew I was trashing her pen and ink drawing of her favorite TV celebrity.

Mary Ellen agreed that we couldn't discard anything, but she didn't want the living room to look like the pub at the North American Hunting Club, so only two pieces of art found a place in the living room. Translation: my wife picked what she liked best and proclaimed: “And this shall represent all the other stuff in the house that shall not be in plain sight.” Not many things get to be in our living room without going through a strict Mary Ellen selection and screening process. For example, I have an Emmy Award. Would you like to see it? I'll meet you in my basement.

One piece she loved was the work of Bill Arnold. He was not a painter, or a musician, and not a photographer. He was a . . . I have no idea what you would call him. He made things out of barbed wire. That's right, barbed wire. With nothing but a small, specially made pair of pliers and hundreds of feet of wire (usually one long piece) he could twist the material into virtually anything. No blueprints, no plans; just a vision in his head. He mostly made animals—birds, foxes, beavers, bears, horses. Each one was life-size. I think Bill was a genius, but a lousy businessman. One day he just left town. Gone but not forgotten. His life-size deer sits in front of the entrance to the Indianapolis Zoo, as do several other pieces of his artwork throughout the park.

How good was he? He once crafted a bald eagle and secured it on top of a telephone pole on I-70. It drove the folks at the Department of Natural Resources crazy because they got dozens of calls about the poor, sick (and endangered) national symbol that clearly required some medical attention—it hadn't moved in days. Motorists pulled off the side of the road and clapped their hands in an attempt to rouse the bird. When the DNR made Bill take it down, he put the eagle in a cage on his front lawn. Then the Humane Society started getting calls. That's how good he was.

I invited Bill on the show and asked him to give a demonstration of his artwork. I called him the day before the scheduled remote.

“Bill, it's Dick Wolfsie. Just wanted to know if you had any idea of what you wanted to make on the show.”

“Well, Dick, would you like me to make a statue of Barney?”

“Gee, Bill, that never crossed my mind. That's a great idea.” It was always better when the guest thought it was his brainstorm.

We did the show and explained the process he had perfected. The total project to make Barney would take about twelve hours and almost 300 feet of wire. We couldn't broadcast every twist and turn, so we had to do another show to unveil the final product. A few days later, Bill revealed a masterpiece in wire, so realistic in its own way that it even captured Barney's personality. Yes, there was even a touch of mischief in his barbed-wire posture. So, I'd put the wire sculpture as my number-one favorite.

The second piece is a glorious pencil drawing of Barney by Debra DeFazio based on the photo taken by Ed Bowers several years earlier. So many paintings and drawings of Barney over the years, but none captured his personality more than this one. Those eyes. Man, did she capture his eyes.

There is a close third—not good enough to pass Mary Ellen's muster for a place in the living room, but close just the same.

That piece of art comes from Rob Taylor, founder of Forth Dimension Holographics, in Nashville, Indiana. Entering his shop, you enter, well, another dimension. It is one of the few places in America where you can have a hologram made of yourself or your children. Hey, how about your pet? Holograms are realistic and very creepy. It's like the subject is actually inside the frame suspended in some kind of animation.

The original photo, taken in 1997 as part of a segment on
Daybreak,
is a dual hologram. Look at it from one angle and there I am; take a glance from the other side and you see Barney. According to Rob, when this piece was hanging in his shop, Barney received far more second looks than I did. “He holographed better,” said Rob.

A copy of the hologram hangs above my desk in my home office. It does require some special lighting to make it come alive, but it still gives me goose bumps when I see Barney staring back at me. If you are ever in Nashville, Indiana, you can see it, too.

So those are my favorites. But everything else is a threeway tie: the beagle walking stick, the watercolor painting, the carved beagle tree stump; the embroidered beagle pillow; the beagle clock; the chalk drawings; the ice sculpture; the wax candle, the neon sign. The list is endless. I have never thrown anything away. Although the ice sculpture did melt.

As Barney became more and more
of an intergenerational hit, he and I visited scores of elementary schools. Any dog is a hit at a school, but our walks up and down the corridors created quite a commotion. My speech was brief to the kids, usually just an opportunity to tell the kids to encourage their parents to watch the show along with some safety tips about petting dogs. I threw in a little beagle history, too, just to make the presentation a touch more educational.

My favorite response to a question was from a thirdgrader. I was explaining how a beagle's hearing and sense of smell are excellent, but the eyesight was not quite as good. I phrased the question a bit inelegantly, I guess. “What sense is Barney lacking in?” I asked.

“Common sense,” said a kid who never missed the show.

Inevitably, the teacher would follow up our visit with an assignment to the class to write a thank-you note to Dick and Barney.

For a long time, I just let the stack pile up, assuming that each letter was simply the perfunctory thank-you and a sophomoric drawing of Barney. I kept these in a huge box over the years and, quite honestly, had not read many of them. Then one day in one of those mad housecleaning moments, I decided that if I was going to discard them, in good conscience, I had a responsibility to read them—every single one.

Here are some of my favorites, slightly edited. I only picked the ones that made me laugh out loud.

Dear Mr. Wolfsie,

Thanks for coming to our school. I would like to watch you and Barney on TV, but my mom just lets us watch stuff that is educational.

Dear Mr. Wolfsie,

I love your dog. I think he is smarter than my brother. Is he for sale?

Ernie

Dear Dick and Barney,

Thanks for coming to our school. Can you come for dinner some night? My mom would love that. I'm not sure about my dad.

Love,
Kaitlyn

Dear Dick and Barney,

Thanks for coming to visit us. We were all very happy. Mainly because Mrs. Potter canceled the test.

Lana

Dear Mr. Wolfsie,

It was very cool when Barney crawled on his belly when he wanted something. My father can do that.

Eric

Dear Dick and Barney,

My teacher said any of us could grow up to be like you, but just in case we don't, we should study hard.

Love, Toni

Dear Mr. Wolfsie,

Who makes more money, you or Barney? I have watched you on TV and you should split it.

Effie

Dear Barney,

Thanks for coming to our school. And for bringing Dave with you.

Love,
Erika

Dear Dick and Barney,

My dad said that you needed a dog to get people to like you. I really don't like dogs. Will a cat work?

Jona

Dear Mr. Wolfsie,

Where do you work? I see you on TV in the morning sometimes. But where do you work?

Anna

Yes, it was hard to think of what I did as work. With all the pressures and politics of TV, I had a job that wasn't really a job. I wore jeans; I brought my dog; I met new and interesting people every day. I didn't go to a factory every morning, I went to a Frisbee contest; I didn't work at a bank, I went to a banjo convention. I didn't have to show up at the office. I just had to show off.