Days of Uncle Ernest - Chesapeake City and the World – Maggie, Chapter 6

Days of Uncle Ernest -

Chesapeake City and the World – Maggie, Chapter 6

When Uncle Ernest took off for the house again, I had some bitter-sweet memories about what we did in Wilmington one December day. He took me shopping in downtown Wilmington one afternoon about a year and a half before. We got on a trolley at Fourth and Union and took off for Market Street with the clattering vehicle poking along and stopping to take on and let off passengers at every block. That old trolley was really something, Nina. It was powered by electrical wires overhead, which were connected to the vehicle by a long pole, and as the trolley moved and turned, the pole swayed and the top wires sparked and snapped occasionally.

Yep, the sounds on the trolley were really peculiar. After the passengers settled in their seats, the trolley lunged ahead, and as it accelerated, a loud whine assaulted the senses, rising gradually to a high pitch at top speed and dropping gradually to a low pitch as it decelerated to an abrupt, jolting stop. This happened at every stop, Nina, until we reached Market Street, and for a kid just off the farm it was terrific.

        We walked into several stores and I think Uncle Ernest bought some items. In one of the stores, while Uncle Ernest was talking to a salesgirl, I remember playing with some small trucks that I thought were neat. I was rolling them back and forth, making truck noises all the while. Then Uncle Ernest grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s head on back, Moose.”

We got off the trolley a block early on Fourth Street so Uncle Ernest could place a bet with his bookie. I had an idea what he was doing, so I asked, “Is this where your bookie lives, Unk? “Shut up!” he hissed, under his breath. “There’s a cop!” Sure enough, there he was across the street at the corner twirling his Billy club. He didn’t see us, though, so Uncle Ernest told me to sit on the steps while he went in to place his bet and chew the fat a while. When he came out I was playing with a little metal truck and he said, “Now where did you get that?”

“I didn’t want to tell him at first, but finally, at his insistence, I said, ‘Back there, at the store.’ I mean to tell you, Nina, he blew his stack. He hustled me on back to that store and made me hand the truck back to the salesgirl. I felt awful, but it was a lesson I’ve never forgotten; I haven’t stolen a single truck since.

Uncle Ernest also took me to see my first movie. The Park Theater was on Union Street, two blocks south of my grandmother’s house. I must have been about four, and not happy at all to be in that dark, scary room. The film that afternoon was a war movie with Spencer Tracy, and when the shells went off and soldiers started falling in the trenches, I began crying so hard that Uncle Ernest had to take me out.

The next movie he took me to was Bambi, so he thought I’d be all right, but when Bambi’s mother was shot, I bawled until he again had to take me out. “My God,” he told my grandmother, “I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy.”

And then my thoughts returned to the present, for Uncle Ernest came back out, sat down, and took a nice, long swig of his drink. “So what did you, Maggie, and José do next, Unk?”

“Hmmm, let’s see now,” he said, stroking his chin. “Oh yeah, now I remember. José had taken on a few more followers so we decided to form an alliance, which we called the Josana Club. Well, one day we all started walking along a narrow street following José, who said that we were going to see what the town folks were up to. As we strolled past the entrance to one of the houses, a guy bolted out of the door and started yelling: ‘Help! Help! Somebody help! My son is dying. What am I to do?’ José calmed him down, put his hand on his shoulder and said softly, ‘Lead us to him my good man.’

“When the guy took us inside we saw that the family had been eating dinner, but now they all stood looking down at a young man lying on the floor. He didn’t move at all and his face was a deep purple. ‘Ohhhh! My only son is dead. May God help him!’ the father yelled. Believe me, Moose; José went to work right away. ‘Grab him and hold him up, Ernie,’ he commanded, so I latched on to him under the arm pits and held his limp body erect. José held the poor kid’s head in his hands, closed his eyes and started mumbling a strange chant. After a few minutes, the kid started to get heavy as a sack of feed, so I knew I had to do something fast.

“On the table to my left was a partially eaten leg of lamb. ‘Ah ha,’ I thought, ‘this kid must have a piece of that lamb stuck in his throat.’ So I performed the Ernie Maneuver (thrust my fist above his gut and pulled hard). I mean to tell you, a chunk of meat the size of a golf ball shot out of that kid, bounced off the top of José’s chest, and rolled under the table, where a long-haired cat snatched it up and took off. What a shame that I didn't patent that maneuver instead of some guy named Heimlich who saw me do it. I could be on Easy Street now, Moose.

“Oh well, anyhow, when that kid started kicking and choking—regaining consciousness you know—everybody cheered like mad. ‘José, you are the greatest; you are something special, our savior,’ the kid’s father cried. The kid’s color came back, and as he sat breathing deeply, he looked at José and said, ‘My God, what happened?’ José lowered his head, placed his hands on top of the boy’s head, and said, ‘Peace be with you, my son.’ As we said good-bye and walked out into the street, everybody cheered and clapped for José, who turned, bowed, and replied, ‘Peace be with you, brothers and sisters, until we meet again.’ ” [To be continued Friday, 10/05/2012]