An ink slinger’s genesis entailing Burt Reynolds and ‘Dukes of Hazzard’ fan favorite Sonny Shroyer

**Photography by Wayne Johnson / The Tifton Gazette / Both images courtesy of Jeremy Roberts**

“Hazzard-ous duty:” Twenty-eight years after landing on the cover of the Tifton Gazette thanks to an intrepid photographer covering the Alapaha Station Celebration in South Georgia, I reunited at the inaugural RKDS Film Fest with Sonny Shroyer, whose claim to fame is emblazoning good-hearted, lovelorn, country-cunning Deputy Sheriff Enos Strate on CBS’ hit ’80s redneck series The Dukes of Hazzard. Shroyer, an unannounced guest, briefly caught up on old times with the Valdosta movie festival’s main attraction Burt Reynolds during a press conference. Shroyer, as hospitable a famous person as you could dream to meet, was born and raised in the Azalea City just six months prior to Reynolds.

Shroyer and his younger pal were football champs at Florida State University until both were sidelined by injuries. Shroyer eventually carved out bit parts in three of Reynolds’ ’70s blockbusters — a crazy inmate who plays football in spite of a broken arm in The Longest Yard, an ATF agent in Reynold’s directorial debut Gator, and Smokey and the Bandit. The motorcycle cop who hands snowman Jerry Reed a ticket when the bandit [Reynolds] shows up unexpectedly in his black Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am with runaway bride Sally Field in tow is Shroyer. She gives Shroyer the bird, and it’s hot pursuit time. When I originally encountered Shroyer in 1990 — my first brush with a celebrity — he was supplementing his income with personal appearances e.g. being a parade grand marshal in my hometown. Who could have predicted that a normally introverted, hoodie-flaunting seven-year-old would ask questions for a living?

Reynolds’ mobility and overall health were declining as a consequence of the celluloid stunts he energetically pulled off time and time again, and he did no autograph signings in Valdosta. As Reynolds was introduced moments before the press conference, he shuffled out towards the stage with the aid of a monogrammed black cane and accidentally bumped into two tall columns of gold, black, and white balloons. Reynolds was undeterred as they toppled behind him, and the snafu was quickly straightened out by the auditorium’s staff.

He was in great spirits — quips and charisma abounded — and expressed humility at still being admired by fans. Mayor John Gayle bequeathed the Deliverance icon a key to the Azalea City and declared it “Burt Reynolds Day.” Later that night Reynolds returned and introduced Smokey and the Bandit with a 30-minute chat and audience Q&A moderated by confidant Todd Vittum. I regret only sticking around for the Smokey and the Bandit screening. Over the next two evenings Reynolds did the same for the action-packed Gator, partially filmed in Valdosta, and his almost-swansong The Last Movie Star, a sentimental tale of a washed up leading man being feted for his erstwhile cinematic glories. Undoubtedly based loosely on his real life, Reynolds mentors temporary personal assistant, Modern Family’s Ariel Winter, until she finds her kumbaya reckoning.

The RKDS Film Fest turned out to be Reynolds’ penultimate public appearance. A month later, the three-day Bubba Fest in Pigeon Forge, Tenn., wrapped things up. A cameo in Quentin Tarantino’s acclaimed Once Upon a Time in Hollywood almost materialized. Reynolds had signed the dotted line and participated in a cast table reading as the grizzled owner of the former western ranch where Manson’s followers planned the gruesome murder of Sharon Tate. A lethal heart attack at age 82 on Sept. 6, 2018, denied Reynolds the opportunity to lend his clout to a major studio-backed project that went on to become the Pulp Fiction director’s second-highest global grosser.