Devonne Brown

I remember our old tv room and our miniature rocking chairs, mine was dark brown, my sister’s was light brown. We’d watch cartoons on Saturday morning until noon. Mom loved it because we were out of her hair and she’d get stuff done. She hated it when she couldn’t smoke, drink coffee, run the sweeper, and dust in peace. She’d leave us alone to watch Looney Toons, my favorite. 

It’s hard to decide which was my favorite Mel Blanc voiced character. He performed at my college and the magic of Elmer Fudd, Foghorn Leghorn, Droopy Dog, and of course, Buggs Bunny. More went swirling around his head like a tornado. 

I loved them all. I loved Elmer because he reminded me of my grandfather. He couldn’t shoot to save his life. He once tried to scare a cow back into my uncle’s pasture from his porch across the river. He saw the cow was out and just knew the gun was loaded with birdshot. Thinking he’d hit the cow in the ass and run it back through the fence was a mistake. The rifle was loaded with real ammo, and rather than hitting the targeted area, he dropped the cow “deader than four o’clock,” My grandmother told it every she cooked beef, for the next year.

I loved Foghorn Leghorn because of his bluster. “Boy, I say boy, if you want to catch a chicken hawk…” he’d offer his expert advice to any youngun. He too was my grandfather. Full of himself and wrong about most things in the world. He loved nothing more than to hyperbolize his knowledge and power. My sister got in trouble at the dinner table when she was about four. Mom told him to go get a switch. He brought in a tree with dirt dripping from the roots. “Girl, I say girl, you gonna behave now?” I giggled. She didn’t.

Droopy Dog was everything a hero should be. He usually played an authority figure. A bassett type hound with big circles under his eyes with slow ambling movements who always caught the bad guys. His tagline, “I’m soooo happy,” was said deadpan, and not in a happy tone of voice at all. Droopy Dog was my introduction to sarcasm. The bad guys plotted and schemed to break into the bank, did a fine job of it too, but there was sheriff Droopy Dog, badge and all waiting, and propped on the wall. “Hello, boys,” he’d drawl.

I still love these guys and Buggs Bunny too, a cross between a villain and a saint. He was the cream of the crop. He could be anybody, anything, anywhere. Dressed as a viking queen, a queen, a king. It didn’t matter. His job was to live long and prosper, and thwart Elmer Fudd. And he did, usually looking over his shoulder repeating his tagline, “What’s up doc?” 

Once in awhile, I’ll catch these characters on TV, loving them the same way I did when I sat in my little naugahyde brown rocker all those years ago. “I’m sooooo happy. What’s up doc?”