The Legend of Uncle Bonzo

Every family has their share of eccentrics, but it seems like we West Virginians have more than our fair share of them at times.   A family eccentric not only becomes a source of many amusing tales at family get-togethers, but can even become something of a local legend.  Southern humorist Louis Grizzard said once, "Southerners don't hide their crazy family members; we put them on display for all to see."  That rings even more so true with us Appalachian families.  One of my late uncles in particular personifies this sentiment perfectly, and I want to talk about him today.

Robert Turner was the second-youngest of my great-grandmother's children by her second marriage to the late Delbert "Mose" Turner, and he was born I'd say around 1940 or so.   As a kid, he looked like a combination of that Steve Urkel character from the old Family Matters sitcom of the early 1990's and Jar-Jar Binks from Star Wars.  His personality was such that he gained the nickname "Bonzo" in part because he reminded people of Ronald Reagan's primate co-star, the chimpanzee Bonzo, in a number of films of the late 1940's and early 1950's.   Uncle Bonzo was skinny, cocky, mouthy, and although afraid of his own shadow, it never stopped him from getting into mischief and almost getting the tar whipped out of him on several occasions - a particular target of his mischief was his older brother, my uncle Delbert "Teak" Turner Jr.  Uncle Teak taught Bonzo many a lesson, although the memory of those lessons wore off fast, as Bonzo couldn't resist the temptation to stir up trouble.  Since a lot of that happened before my time though, I am relying on the tales of family, in particular my grandfather, as reminiscing about Uncle Bonzo is a classic topic of conversation whenever we visit home. 

Although Bonzo had type 1 diabetes (called "juvenile diabetes" in those days, as it was congenital unlike the type 2 that many develop later on), when he was older that didn't stop him from having an affinity for a brew or two, which added to his goofiness.   However, much like a gander-goose, Bonzo could also be a bit cranky at times, particularly in the mornings when he would have a nice long argument at himself in the mirror when he woke up after a lively night on the town.   Despite all that though, he endeared himself to many of us.

A particular quirk - the source of much amusement too - that Bonzo had was his linguistic abilities.  I don't believe anyone could totally reconstruct the English language like he did, and some of the goodies he came up with were so hilarious that years later they still make people laugh.   My grandfather tells a story, for instance, about a time when much of our family lived in Baltimore.  On one particular night, Grandad and Bonzo had stopped off to eat at this diner-like place there in the city somewhere, and Bonzo by this time had consumed a couple of Pabst Blue Ribbons (his favorite libation then).  So, when they proceeded to order, Uncle Bonzo looks at the menu board, and tells the waitress "I'm gonna have me some of that Phillip Hancock!"   Of course, what the menu really said was "fillet of haddock," but in Bonzo's mind that took on a revolutionary new meaning.  He also had an affinity for what he called "fried polack fish" (for those of us who talk "normal," that was pollock), and his favorite phrase was "how you like them apples?"  If a dictionary could be compiled of "Bonzo-speak," I am sure it would take a doctorate-level course to figure out some of it!

Speaking of food, one of my memories of Bonzo was that he loved eating two things.  One was potato soup, which Granny had to make for him at least once a week.  The other was burnt popcorn (don't ask - can't explain that one either!), which as a kid I remember he used to pack away when he briefly stayed with Aunt Pip Schroeder (his oldest sister) when Mom took care of her.  Although he ate pretty healthy, Uncle Bonzo never weighed over 90 pounds soak-and-wet his entire life, and for some reason that endeared him to the old ladies he hung out with.  In short, it was never boring with him around, to be sure!

Bonzo was also a man of many business ventures, although many of them ended up falling flat because he either didn't see them through or they were just goofy ideas.  Getting a buck quick was like an obsession with Uncle Bonzo, and if he couldn't earn it honestly, then he would find a way to try to sue for it.  On one occasion, he came up with the brilliant idea to steal apples from an orchard in Romney, WV, which he planned on selling to people in Baltimore.  However, as he was doing his dastardly deed, he tripped in a mole hole in the orchard and sprained his ankle.  So, he planned on suing the orchard owner - mind you, he was stealing the guy's apples in the process, so keep that in mind! - for damages he "sustained" in the injury.  I was around 6 years old at the time, and remember that well- nothing came of either the apple business or the lawsuit, so the matter was dropped when the next thing caught Bonzo's interest.  Then, while living at Granny's in Hendricks, WV, back around late 1976 or so - Mom and I lived there too at the time, and I was in first grade in school - he decided to get into the chicken business.  So, he goes out and buys these chickens, locks them up in a delapidated old shed behind Granny's house that no one used for anything, and of course eventually a lot of the chickens died from either poor care or they ended up on the butcher block for supper.   Being somewhat devious myself at that age, my pursuit on one particular day was trying to come up with money to get a candy bar and a soda at Sonny Hedrick's Store up the road.   So, I decided I was going to blackmail Uncle Bonzo, who at that particular moment was somewhat hung-over from a hard night's carousing up at the old Sunset Inn bar in nearby Bretz and was miserably stretched out on the glider outside on Granny's porch.  I told him that if he didn't give me a quarter, I would let all those chickens loose.  Being he saw dollar signs with feathers rather than the clucking, noisy birds they were, that got his attention, and I got myself a Chunky Bar and a grape soda that day (Chunkies then were about a dime, and sodas were about a quarter - talk about price increases!).  When I was a kid, Bonzo and I had almost a continual battle of wits, as I was the only one then he could match them with (amusing too was that he was easy to outwit, which I did a lot, much to the amusement of the rest of the family).  And, looking back on that, I had some tremendous fun aggravating Uncle Bonzo too - it was almost an unavoidable temptation actually.

I mentioned Bonzo's affinity for the old ladies, and that extended back to his youth.  I was told that back then there was a rather weird old woman that lived in Hendricks whom I also believe was a distant aunt of his on his Turner side of the tree.   Any rate, this old woman had this yellow cat that was causing some problems because he was having his way with a lot of the female cats and was creating an alarming population of kittens in Hendricks.  The old lady decided some action needed to be taken to keep her tomcat home, so she enlisted Bonzo, whom she called "Bobby," to assist her in neutralizing the tomcat.  The two of them came up with a technique that involved an old boot and a razorblade, and the objective was to stick the cat's head into the boot and extract his kitten-makers.  So, with the old lady's assistance, Bonzo got that cat into the boot, was holding it by its back legs, and sawing away on its cojones with this old razorblade.  The cat was not happy about this little operation, and was expressing its displeasure by making a "RRROOOWWWWLLLLL!" sound from inside the boot.   The old lady was somewhat worried, and said to Bonzo, "Awww, Bobby, don't hurt 'em!"  Apparently the cat survived Dr. Bonzo's surgical procedure, and naturally the kitten population went down afterward.  

Also when he was a teenager, he could get into some trouble, and although Granny was little and frail-looking, she could assert her authority well if she had to.  One thing she did not tolerate was any sass or backtalk (I experienced her wrath myself once when she spanked my butt with a spatula, which I called the "skillet spoon," so I can attest to that well!), but of course Bonzo had to push the issue. She had gotten onto him for something, and he sassed her back. She told him basically that if he didn't shut up, she would crown him with a bar of soap she was using to clean with (this was not bath soap, but rather a brick-sized bar that was used for household cleaning, as it really wasn't suited for hygenic purposes).   However, he did the unthinkable - he told her, point-blank, "I dare you."  Those are three words you never said in Granny's presence, and within a short time, WHAM!! - upside his noggin went that monster cake of soap, dropping him like a fat man's drawers on an anorexic acrobat!  For a time it seemed, he learned his lesson, but his instigative nature didn't allow that to last for long obviously.  

Much more could be said about Uncle Bonzo - heck, a book could be written about his exploits! - but sufficive to say, you have the general idea of the kind of person he was.  We all wanted to choke him at some point, but we also loved him too, and life definitely would not have been the same without him to be sure.  Unfortunately, due to his diabetic condition and the fact he really didn't watch his health all that well, Uncle Bonzo soon met a death long before his time should have been up.  In 1979 I believe, just shy of his 40th birthday, Uncle Bonzo was either going to bed or just waking up, and when he got up he stepped on the sharp edge of a Mason jar lid.  Now, with many of us, that's not a problem - you just disinfect the wound and bandage it up.  However, diabetics have a unique situation in which if something damages their extremities, it could be fatal  In Bonzo's case, that is what happened - gangrene set into the wound, and because somehow it wasn't caught in time, it eventually claimed his life.  Today, he rests in the Fansler Cemetery above Hendricks, near Granny's grave, and his memories live on with many of us who knew and loved him.  If you have an eccentric relative like this, I am sure you can appreciate the story, and more than likely can relate to it on some level.  Rest in peace, Uncle Bonzo, and stay out of the chicken houses and apple orchards.