Alright, folks. Let’s have a real talk here. Most people know The Dukes of Hazzard as a good ol’ boy TV show from the late ‘70s and ‘80s. Orange Charger, rebel flag on the roof, and two cousins raising hell while keeping their nose (mostly) clean. But behind the stunts and laughs is a story a little more rooted in our part of Kentucky than folks realize.
Let’s start with the basics. The show was created by Gy Waldron, born August 5, 1932, in Lenoxburg, Kentucky. For those playing at home, Lenoxburg is just a little dot on the map—barely 10 minutes from downtown Falmouth. If you grew up in Lenoxburg, you went to Falmouth to shop, to stir up trouble, or to deal with the law. It wasn’t a distant thing—it was the thing.
Before The Dukes of Hazzard hit TV in 1979, Waldron wrote and directed a movie called Moonrunners in 1975. That’s where the real DNA of the show comes from. Moonrunners followed cousins Grady and Bobby Lee Hagg, running moonshine for their Uncle Jesse McGill. Sound familiar? Yeah, because those Hagg boys turned into Bo and Luke Duke, and Jesse McGill morphed into the Uncle Jesse we all know. Fun fact—Uncle Jesse was based directly on Waldron’s own grandfather, a man who knew how to play it straight when needed, but wasn’t afraid to give the law a little side-eye when it overstepped.
Now, here’s where it gets interesting for us. Hazzard County might be fictional, but the way it was built, the corrupt sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane, the power-hungry Boss Hogg, the backwoods justice system—it wasn’t pulled from thin air. Waldron grew up watching small-town politics in action. Watching how certain folks could bend the rules, pad their wallets, and make problems disappear, while others—usually the ones without the right friends, got steamrolled.
Sound familiar? It should. Because here we are in Falmouth, Pendleton County, watching history repeat itself in real time.
Back then, it was moonshine money and land deals. Today, it’s grant money, sweetheart contracts, and backroom agreements. The same song, different instruments. And instead of one Boss Hogg, we seem to have a few contenders fighting for the title. Funny how that works, isn’t it?
When you look around and see how things are run here, the good ol’ boy networks still alive and well, families holding onto power like it’s a family heirloom, it’s not hard to imagine Gy Waldron sitting as a kid, taking mental notes that would one day become The Dukes of Hazzard. The corruption, the favoritism, the double standards—he just dressed it up in car chases and southern charm.
And here’s the kicker: the way things are going, we don’t need to look to TV for that story anymore. We’ve got our own version playing out right here. Different decade. Same backroads. Same power games.
So maybe it’s time for another Hart to Hart. Maybe it’s time we stop pretending these “fictional” stories are so far removed from us. Because if we’re honest, Hazzard County could’ve been Pendleton County with a fresh coat of paint.
The Whisper sees it. And we’ll keep seeing it.
Stay tuned, y’all. The Whisper never sleeps.