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Mr. Hatfield was always a presence of grace and of solidity. I always felt welcome in your home and he was always so generous and real. I can remember times he was firm with us when we were out of line. But it was always just what we needed. Of course his musical genius added a whole extra dimension to his character. I feel privileged to have known such an awesome person.

Patrick J. McDonald
Department of Philosophy
Seattle Pacific University

I still hear your dad greet me every time i enter your house..."Hello Christian..what are you up to?"...He was an awesome spirit..i know he's looking down on us watching out for us ..Mr. Hatfield is jamming with the greats in Heaven...keep a space open for me..Lil Kriz..Christian Beeber
Christian Beeber < >
Seattle, wa USA -

Ernie Sr. was a great guy and my biggest musical influence. He taught me how to "just listen" when I tried to play a song I had never heard. "Less is more", "silence is also music", and "listen, listen, and listen again" were lessons that began to make complete sense as I matured musically. Ernie was a musical giant but never ever boasted or talked down to anyone. His musical abilities spoke for itself. I spent many nights and weekends sharing dinner and conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Hatfield who were always generous and just nice people. I learned so much about music and life from your family and I carry it with me to this day. Ernie Sr. and Mrs. Hatfield were always supportive of Ernie Jr., Mark Seidenverg, and myself in our high school musical endeavors and people I have quoted him continuously throughout my life. We lost touch through the years, but I will never forget him, Mrs. Hatfield and Ernie Jr. for their friendship and kindness. I am sorry for your loss and I wish I would have found out sooner to respond. Take care and I wish your family all of the best.

I will really miss your dad. I always enjoyed talking to him when I visited the house and sharing what was happening with each other. He was an incredible spirit and human being, and really the last of breed when it came to jazz musicians - the "real thing"! I remember once after school when I was about 14, Bryan had started getting into scratching and I had just started playing guitar - I think I was playing pretty bad Judas Priest riffs over his breakbeats - and he told me I was a good guitar player :) well, at least he knew how to nuture a musician! The other thing that used to make me laugh is having him poke his head in on a session for a minute and then walk away shaking his head saying "Everything is in Eb!" I will miss him (and certainly his stories of his playing days), as I'm sure many others will.
Erik Madsen < >
Los Angeles, CA USA -

Dear Ernest, Bryan and Ernestine,

I am delighted to find this website.  I was sitting here missing my dear friend and thought. Maybe there was a website now, it is 2008.  I stopped by the house the other day seeing how it was being remodeled.

And of course the old grey car was gone.  The garden hose was missing which broke my heart. More on that later.

Your Father and I met at the corner Deli in Seattle near the family home on Harrison.

I was a telephone lineman. Your father was , ,well your father.

He was always there every morning as I would and my truck partner would come in for breakfast or coffee break. He'd have toast and coffee. An egg once in awhile.

Ernie and I spoke over that diner table for two years at least two or three times a week.

I knew nothing of his music background nor he mine.

One day the three of us were having coffee when my truck partner proded me for the results of my audition with a band signed to MCA records.

When Ernie heard this his posture changed and he lit up with that huge smile of his.

"I didnt know you were in music" he said. I asked him if he played and he said "oh I play around some".
Which when anyone says something so modest I know they are accomplished. I didnt push. Ronnie, the store owner then, later told me what his accomplishments are and were.

We began an even better friendship then.

Ernie taught me my first blues 1 4 5's on that little piano on Harrison. I struggled and he helped.

I began to hire Ernie for house parties. He was the light of the room. Providing an excellent escape for those guests who came solo or were wanting to escape the overwhelm of a large party. Many guests would sit an listen and enjoy the view over Alki Beach.

I then hired him for a St Patricks party. I had moved to the north end. Flo Raynor was there and another famous local who frankly escapes me at this moment.

So as the party grew folks asked for songs. Flo agreed and sang one or two. The guests knowing I had been taking voice lessons for less than a year chided me into a performance. (my Maestro always said never sing for friends and family they are the harhest judge and can be cruel) I trusted Ernie and we agreed to performing Summertime. I told him E flat. We did not discuss style.

After the first few notes I knew I was in trouble. I was following Flo which wasnt smart as she is spectacular. And later I realized I had changed my key in study with Maestro to A and wasnt experienced enough at the time to make the correction. I noticed when I looked at my books at home later that day.

So the more Ernie tried to come my way and I tried to go his we basically chased our keys into a train wreck. Not to mention he was doing a jazz version and I a Broadway performance hall style. CRRRRAAASSSHH

I was looking out the corner of my eye trying to change my grimace to a smile while I sang and he played with such a silly ecouragement that the animation was hilarious. Coaching me on to the correct key.

And we cleared the room. You could have heard a pin drop. And the party went on. In the next room. Thank God for food to distract from the agony. I got the courage up to go into the next room and Ernie played on.

The next day I went to the Deli. I couldnt even get in the door. Ernie was poised in his usual location first table toward the counter full view of the door way. I started to laugh at first sight and so did he.

He said "Man, where were you going with that tune". I laughed and said "ME!" what were you doing? Then I told him the mistake. We laughed from the belly for some time.

So time went on. I got married took on a small son, David, who is now 22.  And Ernie helped me as a Father would, mentoring me on raising him and how to talk to him.

Then we had my Daughter, Myra, now 13. Ernie loved to see Myra, he didnt see David I dont think.

Myra helped with the Bulldog awards escorting local fames to the stage to receive their awards. I have photos, with the Bulldogproductions awards show on Alki Beach.

Ernie was inducted into my hall of fame and honored in front of an audience as one of Seattle;s most cherished musicians.

Myra escorted him on the stage. Local talent and International star with a Grammy nominated video, BluMeadows Welcomed Ernie to the microphone.

His reception was very well recieved. I have it on video as well.

That was a great day.

Complete with BLuMeadows young sons invading the ever so meticulous green room tent Myra had organized. And well they were boys, much to her disdain.

LOL

At that time Ernie was carrying his oxygen tank.

Time went on. And during that time I was going through a divorce. I didnt want to tell Ernie due to upsetting him. I didnt know for sure which way it was going to go yet.

As the divorce got worse, I didnt want to contact Ernie as by now he could read me like a book. I finally called and Marion answered the phone.
She asked where I had been and said Ernie was in Baily Bushay?? with spin cancer.

I thanked her and went right away to visit.

When I arrived they told me Ernie was out watching the fish in the tank. They said he likes to watch the fish. Now I knew Ernie and he had never ever mentioned no fish.

So I went to see him. And laughed. He had the staff set him in the wheel chair by the fish tank just enough so he could watch his house from the window.

I said "watching fish huh?" he laughed and ssid "Shh".
They dont need to know.

So we kept the secret between us.

And soon as he said sshhh he said" I told that boy to put up the hose. Why cant he roll that hose up?" and put it away like I taught him".

The hose was across the behind or bumper of his old car. I think it was a buick? Kinda like the hose had unfolded from an attempt to roll it up.

I just sighed and chuckled at the same time. A man not wanting to let go. Still had his pride and what was important to him. Clean, tidy and integrity.

A Military thing or maybe family or both I dont know.

So we talked a bit. Years had gone by since he had heard me play the piano. I wanted to show him my progress. So he agreed excitedly and I wheeled him over to piano just a few steps away.

I sat and played a barrelhouse tune "sloppy drunk" and a tune Pinetop Perkins, from Muddy Waters Band, taught me, "Come back Baby".

Feeling warmed up and noticing Ernie was nodding in his chair, and then a room full of people/patients and staff, had gathered to listen, I broke into my version of...you got it ...Summertime.

Now Ernie was fast asleep it appeard or wishing I'd stop with his eyes closed lol so contented looking with his oxygen hose resting comfortably in his nostrils....and as I hit the first few bars of summertime his eyes popped open and the oxygen hose popped out of his nose to his chin. He started to laugh and cough so hard I thought I was going to end it for him right then and there. He recovered nicely and we relived the earlier moments we played the song together. Laughing and talking music. He said I learned to play pretty good.

It was a great time. I visited a few more times and always called first to make sure my timing was proper.

Once I called and the front desk told me I had better call home as Ernie was sent to his house. Which usually means it would be his final days or weeks.

Now I am never good at this part of life. Never thinking I am close enough or well known enough by the family to come rushing in at such an intimate time.

So I waited for my call. It never came. A year went by and then I am faced with Marion having a great day finally recovering from his passing only to have me call and upset her. So I waited.

I searched the web for obituaries. I called the Music Union hall and they hadnt gotten a notice of death yet.

Finally after about another year I broke down and called the house. Marion answered and said "Ernie phone!". Now I naturally assumed (yes I know) that it would be Ernest JR. who moved from Colorado to help his Mother.

I was driving down 6th avenue south of the south bound on off ramp/street headed toward James street taking a left onto James when Ernie Sr. came to the phone. He said "hello" "where you been!?!?!" "why havent you called" I literally lost control of the wheel headed just for the huge round support post for the freeway overpass and regained control just in time.

"Where have I been, your dead, I dont call dead people!!!" He laughed and said "I'm not dead".
I arranged to come right over. I told him I had grieved him and didnt know whether to punch him right the kisser or hug him. He laughed and I had brought Marion flowers to brighten her day.

We spent a bit more time together.

Later, Marion went on to the care facility and Bryan had moved in with Ernie to help.

Bryan and I got to know each other better.

The talks Ernie and I would have were deep and heart felt the next few visits.

The last visit he went to use the bathroom on his own accord. Coming back he had to stop and rest in the first chair in the living room . staggering slightly to make a gentle landing in the chair.

I stayed put out of respect.

He regained composure and came and sat with me again.

We held hands like Father and Son. I said my thankyou 's my goodbye 's and told him I loved him.

We both knew this would be out last time together.

A few days later I was playing piano at my house. It was evening I dont remember the exact time. My piano was a small electronic on a stand. I was facing with my back to the wall looking outward to the room.

And all of a sudden appeared Ernie. Now this isnt that unusual for me as my mother did the same and my father tugged my chest when he passed.

Ernie came over, moved through the key board, sat in my body , and I had already begun playing ...summertime. He took over sitting inside of my form , and my hands played the most lovely version I could ever dreamed of. He finished , got up, walked through the piano , took a few steps (he had no pain or
difficulty) and turned and said "goodbye, I love you".

I called Bryan the next day to ask about his Ernie.
He told me he had passed. I had remembered the time of Ernies visit to me the day before. I asked Bryan if he would mind me asking the time of Ernies passing.
It was within 2 mintues of his visit to my place. As it should be.

Ernie was as much of a Father as my own and in many ways a Grandfather to me. someone I could tell anything to and did. Your family secrets of life and struggles will always rest silently in confidence as they were given, as I supported him in friendship too.

I have spoke to Bryan a few times since and left my card at the old house as the new folks said they see him from time to time. I have lost Bryans phone number as my cell got wet and destroyed my dialing catalogue.

I have always wanted a statue commissioned of Ernie playing the piano. To have it in the park by the house. So I could go sit and feed the pidgeons, watch traffic and maybe wonder why the hose wasnt put away.

Your Father was a great man. Stories of Ella and he.
Him seeing Billie Holiday, playing with Pearl Bailey, talk of the "Chitlin" circuit. Oh I miss him.

So today I commit to continuing to play piano in his honor. To take his gentle smooth style and add it to my personal playing style.

And to always mention that great man "Ernie Hatfield"
whenever I play Summertime.

As I write this I am thinking. I lost his latest tape of him playing when I lost my things in a storage unit. I would love to have that tape again if at all possible. Also the DVD Bryan gave me of his fathers arms that he made would be wonderful.

I would be happy to work with Bryan on transferring the video of Bulldogproduction over to CD so it could be added to the web page.

In deepest love and afftection,

Gary Brisky
Bulldog of Seattle/myspace.com
Makwe Nikekele/ Laughing Bear

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