THANK YOU, UNCLE FLOYD

Tales of a sixth-grade nothing

It is the spring of 1981, I am in my sixth grade picture, and it looks like I was fitted in at the last second. I am not dressed in my Sunday best, or at least how you should be dressed in a class picture.

I am wearing an Uncle Floyd Show t-shirt. Nobody else in the photograph is wearing a t-shirt. Everyone else in the picture is dressed as they should be on a class picture, wearing their best collared shirts if you were a boy, or best dress if you were a girl. Except me.

I do not have clear memories of that day, so I do not know if I deliberately dressed in an Uncle Floyd Show t-shirt for my class picture because I wanted the world to know I am an Uncle Floyd fan, or if I just forgot it was my class picture day, or I just did not care if it was class picture day. Any of those scenarios is possible. I was not a good student, and school was never my first choice as to where i wanted to be, ever. I regret having that mindset now, of course.

But I like to think it was the former. I like to believe that I was such a big fan of the Uncle Floyd show that I wanted to show it to the world, record it for posterity.

How did I get that shirt? The year before, Uncle Floyd made an appearance at the Union Trade Center to meet his fans and sign autographs. And he brought the whole gang: Scott Gordon, Looney Skip Rooney, Mugsy, Netto, Charlie Stoddard. I am sure we got all their autographs, but I only have Uncle Floyd’s still in my posession. I have to think I got the t-shirt the same day. I do know remember that, but I do remember it got the point where we were almost escorted out of the building for holding up the line.

I’m sure one of my brothers turned me on to the show, or perhaps I started watching Speed Racer a half-hour earlier on WWHT-TV Channel 68, forgot to change the channel, watched Uncle Floyd for the first time, and became hooked. Channel 68 was my first must see TV. Hercules (the Trans-Lux cartoon from the 60s) at 5, Speed Racer (ditto) at 5:30, The Uncle Floyd Show at 6.

Floyd Vivino began his TV career in 1974, working on UA Columbia Cable in New Jersey, before moving to WWHT in the late seventies. I would have discovered him in 1980. Much like Soupy Sales and Chuck McCann and Officer Joe Bolton a generation before, he was someone who made kids feel important, never talked down to them, and had enough talent and charisma so that adults could enjoy it as well, and make children feel more grown up as a result. Which won him a slew of adult fans. Some of them famous, like David Bowie and John LennonNot to mention the Ramones and Blue Oyster Cult and Cyndi Lauper and NRBQ and the dozens of musicians who performed on the show, many for their initial broadcast appearance. He would try to make the move the WNBC-TV in 1982, but they decided to put him on after both Saturday Night Live and SCTV, which meant he was on after 2 am early Sunday morning. And this was at a time with very few VCRs, so you could not watch it later on. Floyd would return to local TV, this time the New Jersey Network.

What was he so appealing? Simply put, he reached out and made you feel like family, like you belonged, and that was certainly something I needed as a fifth and sixth grader. Joe Frankfurter, Rocky RockNRoll, Eddie Slobbo, hanging with Oogie and Bones Boy (Snap it Pal!) and of course, all the interplay with Scott Gordon and Looney Skip Rooney and the rest of the gang. Playing the piano, telling jokes that would not have been out of place on a vaudeville stage. Just trying hard to entertain, and looking like he was having the time of his life in doing so. And you recognized it, and you wanted to be part of it. And you BECAME part of it.

Although Uncle Floyd would continue to appear at dinner theaters and comedy venues throughout the Tri-State area, as well hosting both English and Italian radio programs on WFDU-FM, I never sought him out as an adult, never told him how much meant to me. The last time I was in the same place with Uncle Floyd was a flea market in New Brunswick, NJ in 1990. He did his whole show, meant for both children and adults, and I, being halfway between childhood and adulthood, watched the whole thing. And even though I had a chance to shake his hand and tell him my Union Trade Center story, but I chose not to do so, because that’s what I usually do in front of famous people.

Floyd Vivino passed away on January 22, 2026, at the age of 74. So in lieu of not telling him my story then, I hope this essay serves to explain how much you meant to me, Uncle Floyd. I still have your autographed picture. And I wore your t-shirt in my sixth grade class picture. And I’m sure I was proud to do so.

God bless you, Uncle Floyd, and godspeed.