Uncle Ernie appeared in our house a few times each year to stay for a week or so. He had a glorious, glamorous life working in fairgrounds, boxing shows and circuses. I thought it was definitely glamorous although Dad didn’t agree with me.
Uncle Ernie would turn up, sometimes with a guitar or banjo, but always with a harmonica and a lariat. A lariat? He was a Rope Spinner and a Whip Cracker. He frequently worked as a stagehand and took me backstage to the Princess Theatre many times over the years and he shared important facts about camels such as “stay clear, they can spit a bloody long way”. He used to play the music for the dancing horses and he confided in me (“keep this to yourself”) that the horses didn’t dance to the music, but the musicians watched the horses closely and played to their movements! And it was Uncle Ernie who told me the horrifying story about the lion tamer who stuck his head in the lion’s mouth and the lion sneezed. To this day I still shudder.
He sang sad country songs in a lovely clear tenor, the best, lump in the throat songs I ever heard, although Dad didn’t agree with me on that either. Dad thought country music was mawkish and foolish and would comment in that vein. Uncle Ernie would wink a beautiful blue eye at me.
