Friday nights in Northeast Ohio used to have a very specific sound. It wasn’t just the wind off Lake Erie. It was a wheezing, hysterical, three-stage laugh that signaled another skit had just gone off the rails on Channel 8. If you grew up there, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Big Chuck and Little John weren’t just TV hosts; they were the unofficial mayors of a version of Cleveland that didn’t care about being polished or "Hollywood."
Honestly, the show shouldn't have worked. It was a chaotic mix of low-budget horror movies, ethnic jokes that would never fly today, and two guys who looked like they wandered out of a local bowling alley. But it didn't just work—it dominated. At its peak, the show was pulling ratings that actually beat The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson in the local market. Think about that. A guy who started as a station engineer and a jeweler from Maple Heights were taking down the King of Late Night.
The Luckiest Engineer in Television
Charles Schodowski—known to everyone as "Big Chuck"—didn't set out to be a star. He was a behind-the-scenes guy, an engineer who happened to have a genius-level sense of comedic timing. He started out as a sidekick to the legendary Ernie Anderson, aka Ghoulardi. When Anderson left for Los Angeles in 1966 to become the voice of ABC, the station was panicking. They paired Chuck with Bob "Hoolihan" Wells, and Hoolihan and Big Chuck was born.
When Hoolihan left for Florida in 1979, everyone figured the ride was over. Instead, Chuck tapped John Rinaldi, a frequent guest on their skits, to step in. That’s when the Big Chuck and Little John era officially kicked off.
John Rinaldi—"Lil' John"—brought a different energy. He was the perfect foil. While Chuck was the director and the straight man (mostly), John was the fearless physical comedian. Whether he was being stuffed into a suitcase or dressed up in a ridiculous costume, John was game for anything. They weren't actors playing roles; they were just Cleveland guys having a blast, and that authenticity is why people stayed tuned in until 2:00 in the morning.
The Skits That Defined a City
The movies they showed were usually terrible. We all knew it. The real draw was the "pizza breaks"—the comedy segments inserted between the monster flicks.
You had the Kielbasa Kid, a Polish Western hero who probably used more garlic than gunpowder. There was Ben Crazy, a parody of the medical drama Ben Casey that featured some of the most absurd hospital "procedures" ever aired. And who could forget the "Certain Ethnic Guy" sketches?
Critics today might cringe at the "Certain Ethnic" trope, but in the 1970s and 80s, Cleveland was a patchwork of Polish, Italian, Irish, and Slovenian neighborhoods. The show poked fun at the stereotypes everyone grew up with. It was self-deprecating. It was Parma. It was home.
That Iconic Laugh
We have to talk about the laugh. You know the one: Hee-hee-hee... HAA-HAA-HAA... HO-HO-HO! That wasn't Chuck or John. It was actually a recording of Jay Lawrence, a local DJ. The story goes that Jay was interviewing the duo when someone accidentally beaned Hoolihan in the head with a basketball. Jay lost it, and Chuck, being the savvy producer he was, caught the audio. He used it to cap off every single skit. It became the show's punctuation mark. Without that laugh, a skit about a giant kielbasa just didn't feel complete.
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Why It Ended (And Why It Didn't)
The world changed, and local TV changed with it. Big-budget syndication and 24-hour cable started eating away at the "local flavor" shows. Chuck officially retired in 2007, marking the end of a 40-year run that is virtually unheard of in broadcasting.
But Cleveland wouldn't let them go.
By 2011, they were back with a half-hour "best of" show on Saturday mornings. It turns out, even in the age of Netflix, people still wanted to see the Big Chuck and Little John vault. It was a digital campfire for a generation that remembered staying up way past their bedtime to see if the Kielbasa Kid would finally win one.
The passing of Big Chuck Schodowski in January 2025 at the age of 90 felt like the end of an era for the city. It wasn't just about losing a TV host; it was about losing a connection to a time when local television felt like it belonged to the neighborhood.
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What You Can Do Now
If you’re feeling nostalgic or just curious about why your Uncle from Seven Hills still quotes these guys, here is how to dive back in:
- Check the Saturday Lineup: WJW Fox 8 often still carries the "Best of" segments. It's the easiest way to see the chemistry between Chuck and John in its prime.
- Read the Book: Chuck wrote a memoir called Big Chuck!: My Favorite Stories from 47 Years on Cleveland TV. It’s filled with behind-the-scenes stories about Tim Conway, Ernie Anderson, and how they pulled off those stunts on a shoestring budget.
- Support Local Archives: Sites like the Northeast Ohio Video Hunter have preserved hours of old broadcasts, including the commercials that are just as much of a time capsule as the show itself.
- Visit Ghoulardifest: If the tradition continues, this annual convention is the place to meet the survivors of the "Channel 8" glory days and pick up a "Parma" t-shirt.
Local TV might be mostly "drones in suits" now, but for a few decades, it was a beautiful, chaotic mess. We're lucky we had it.