Hear Me Phineas Worrell!

I’ll admit, the first time I watched the story of Lloyd Worrell, I was put off.

Scared, more like it. Who was this guy who kicked dogs, pretended to eat invisible steak, and loved to watch his equally creepy boy smash up his cinder block toys?

And that house – junky, cold by appearances, open and empty.

Yet.

Underneath, it’s Ernest. Ernest P. Worrell.

I don’t remember the first time I met Ernest P. Worrell. Probably through one of his commercials, though I don’t remember a product. Maybe a bit about him on TV featuring a commercial – I grew up in Idaho and I believe we had one local dairy then – actor Jim Varney did his Ernest character for a lot of dairies – but not much else.

But I watched the Ernest movies. Oh, did I watch them. I’ve got the books. I was a member of the Ernest P. Worrell fan club to the end, when the club folded and they sent me a free bumper sticker as a thank you.

I sold the car the sticker was on. Probably the most valuable thing on that car was the sticker.

I’m reading now Justin Lloyd’s biography of Varney and loving every minute of it.

Almost every minute. The writing is a little rough around the edges. But that’s okay. It suits Ernest – and Uncle Lloyd – just fine.

I never knew, for example, that “Never Get Poop on Your Shoes,” was the alternate, “English” title to the film “Dr. Otto and the Riddle of the Gloom Beam.” Which I love. Nor did I suspect Monty Python was an inspiration for Dr. Otto’s writers, though I can see that a bit now in retrospect. I’m learning a lot about Varney and the character of Ernest.

Part of me wonders if there wasn’t a bias against Varney in Los Angeles and in New York that kept him from meatier roles. Yes, he was typecast as Ernest, but clearly had a range that could have made him a much more prominent character actor than he ever was. But as Varney was from the South and played to Southern stereotypes, the elites may have just let him fly under the radar (though Disney certainly saw the potential when Ernest got more cheers at the Indianapolis 500 than did their own Mickey Mouse).



I’m gratified he did win a Daytime Emmy in 1989 for his TV show, which I loved as well.

Lloyd’s book feels pretty comprehensive. And I also have to wonder – who else but a relative would write this book (see coastal elitism as a reason why nobody else would).

There’s one thing I feel lacking – photos. There are a few, but I kept hoping for a lot more.