My Uncle Bill

by Helen Erwin Campbell

During these early years Dad’s younger brother Bill (Vachel Russell Erwin) was often around our family. He was a colorful, flamboyant figure, and could also be described as fun-loving, daring, and a practical joker. During the time when Grandpa Erwin and his sons were following the oilfield work he was remembered as around our family a lot. When I was a little girl Uncle Bill was a frequent visitor, but as the years passed he would be absent a lot; sometimes for years at a time.

Clifford remembered how Uncle Bill cured a neighborhood dog of barking at the teams. The dog in question was a large shepherd-mix of some kind, and when the men drove their teams past where the dog’s owner lived, the dog would rush out and begin barking and nipping at the heels of the horses. This, of course, would tend to agitate the animals, causing them to jump around and attempt to kick at their tormentor.

Bill had a big white Bulldog named Bruce, and on the day chosen to teach the lesson Bill brought Bruce along. Clifford, still quite small at the time and who tended to follow his Uncle Bill around like a little puppy, was also riding along with Bill that day. Bill is reputed to have told him, “You have to help me. You keep old Bruce covered up with this horse blanket until we get there.”

There were several teams and wagons, and Bill was in the lead with his team of big black mules. When they got near where the shepherd lived he, almost on cue, came rushing out, barking as he came. Uncle Bill yanked back the blanket, yelling “Go get him, Bruce!” Bruce jumped off the wagon, ears laid back, teeth bared, saliva streaming from his flapping jowls. Apparently, Bruce almost killed that shepherd dog before Bill pulled him off. Years later, Uncle Bill told Clifford that he was never again bothered by the dog’s barking, and in fact he wouldn’t even come out to the road.

There were, apparently, a lot of “Uncle Bill” stories. Clifford recalled another one which occurred when he was riding with Dad for the day. The way he told it there were four or five teams moving part of an oil rig, and again Uncle Bill was in the lead. The convoy of teams and wagons were moving along on a dirt road when they came upon an abandoned car stuck in a mudhole. There was no room for the wagons to pass on either side, so Bill unhitched his team and pulled the car out of the mudhole and off to one side. He then hitched his team up again and all of the wagons drove past.

Suddenly Bill yelled, “Hey, wait a minute! I ain’t gonna’ pull  that car out leave it unstuck.” He then unhitched his team again, pulled the offending car back into the same mudhole. He once more hitched up to his load and the whole group proceed on to their destination.

Bill loved to play practical jokes, and Flossie remembered one that had consequences. On this occasion, probably in 1916, our family lived around the corner from Grandpa and Grandma. For a big oilfield job Grandpa had hired teamsters and provided a bunkhouse where they slept.

Back in the day there a was a concoction that pranksters, such as our Uncle Bill, would mix up for their nefarious deeds. It was called “high life,” and consisted mainly of turpentine plus a few other

noxious ingredients. If it got on the skin it caused a sharp burning sensation. Applied to the hind-end of a dog or cat it would take of running; yipping or screeching, whichever the case might be.

One night, Bill showed up in his favorite beer hall in Augusta telling about his latest funning. Doubling over with laughter, he recounted how he’d applied “high life” to the rear of a big old tomcat and thrown him into the bunkhouse with the sleeping muleskinners, then shut and locked the door. He’d then immediately taken off for town, leaving the shouting of the men and the yowling of the angry animal behind. Flossie couldn’t remember what the victims did to retaliate, but was reasonable sure that there were consequences.

Everyone seemed to have a story about Uncle Bill. Most of the family thought they were funny, unless of course one were the subject of one of his pranks – all that is except Grandma Minnie Erwin who had no sense of humor at all. In later years she commented to me that “Bill riled everybody in that end of town.

In later years Bill would be absent from family circles for months, and sometimes years, at a time with little or no communication. During World War 2 he worked as a large equipment operator – primarily on a bulldozer – on the Alcan Highway (now called Alaska Highway). Comparatively speaking, he made a lot of money, but within a couple of years he was broke.

In 1948, Bill borrowed $200.00 from Dad in order to get to New York where, he said, he had a job waiting. From there he claimed he would be sent to Saudi Arabia to work in the oilfields. My father died in 1966, and according to him he never saw or heard from Bill again. He guessed that he had died or been killed there and never returned. There were rumors over the years, but the rest of the family also apparently claimed ignorance as to his fate or whereabouts.

Then, in 1996, my brother Don retired and became interested in genealogy. Over time he traced our paternal roots to the 1200s in Scotland and our maternal side of the family to the 1500s in England. As time passed he began searching for solutions to the many mysteries in various “branches” of our family. One of the mysteries, of course, is what really happened to our Uncle Bill.

One day, about five years after he started his study of family history, he found a clue… in www.findagrave.com. Vachel Russell “Bill” Erwin, and wife Irene, are buried in the Roselawn Park Cemetery, Palestine, Anderson County, Texas. Irene died in 1972 and Bill passed in 1983. He also discovered that Bill and Irene had three children: Robert Dean “Bobby Erwin (1931-1996), Virginia Olin (1932-2005) and Phyllis Irene (1936-2004)

In 2004, Don visited the cemetery on one of his many genealogy study trips. Two of his daughters had lived in the area, and he was able to visit with Virginia, but Phyllis had passed just a couple of months before he arrived. He reported, however, that he encountered real hostility during his short conversation with Virginia. When he pointedly asked the reason why, she told him that both parents had felt that way, and that they had purposely cut themselves off from the rest of the Erwin family. When pressed for the reason her parents had done so, Virginia admitted that neither she or her siblings had had any idea what caused the rift long ago.

Don never made any further attempt to contact Virginia, or possible descendants of the Bill Erwin family, and Virginia passed as well the following year.

Sad.