The cycle of erecting, tear down and consequent load-out of the tented city drove equipment design that had, over the decades, become a testament to efficiency, durability and simplicity. Portable cookhouse tables, easily assembled components of bleacher seating, platforms that placed an entertainer in front of and above the crowd combine with simple tent poles, stakes and rope, lots of rope. The specific way rope is used and threaded through rigging blocks were unique to the circus and the knots used to secure the guys, lash jump ropes to the poles, were a manner of hooking specific rigging up inside the tent had evolved from the era of sailing.
Using vehicles and attractions to funnel the crowd past enticements was a developed art. The showmen were masters of the science of opportunity as crowds made their way toward the big top.
I became aware of efficiency. I sought to achieve economy of motion during the daily set-up. Each day the 20×30 tent was spread, poles unloaded and put in place and the stakes were driven. Then the tent went up and the rest of the attraction put into place.
I couldn’t keep a wrist watch working. No problem on a circus. Every day was a routine. Responsibilities drove the day. Near showtime, the activities of the concession department served as the only time piece needed. It coincided with the crowd arriving. The midway was the receiving area. With patrons present we opened the side show and the snake show up for business. For a quarter they could see the unusual attractions inside of what we called the Believe It or Not Show. The tent housed “Trigger,” a five-footed horse. We also had a five-legged cow, a midget bull, and a llama with curious ears that were another wonder of nature.
The Snake Show was in a big box truck that had a two-bunk sleeper in the front that I shared with the big top canvas boss. The large snake was kept in the back. The patrons would climb the stairs that led into the back of the truck where they would look down into a pit to see the enormous python on display. Because of the configuration this was called a pit show.
We were awakened daily just before sunrise to start the trucks and begin the trip to the next town. The big top and crew went first. I loaded the animals into the back of the elephant truck and then coiled the picket line and loaded the stakes while Melvin loaded “Dixie” the elephant. We were ready to begin our trip out of town. I rode shotgun.
We started the trip in the dark. The terrain was revealed as the morning light exposed the surrounding area. This was a special way to start each day.
The rolling countryside of southern Indiana softened gradually as we went north between flat fields. Sprouts of young crops were punctuated with barns, silos and tree shaded dwellings. The communities that had sprung up at the crossroads were our target. Each little town had similar characteristics but arranged with details in different ways. Noticing nuance became a source of fascination for my observant eye.
The days of small town mom and pop businesses of all types had impact because they exerted a personal relationship with their community. Integrity thrived. Although each day was routine, the ever-changing scenery during the jumps to the next small town revealed interesting sights, quaint communities and spectacular natural beauty. We traversed most of Michigan next.
Upon arrival at the next showgrounds, the process of laying out the big top and the arrangement of ancillary equipment had begun. Each morning, the steady rhythmic, metallic sound of sledge hammers hitting steel stakes was heard. The performer’s rigs arrived and they parked adjacent to the performer’s entrance. They had to wait for the big top to go up. While they waited, they visited with one another and the children on the show would play.
The side poles that held up the outside edge of the tent were going up and it created a bowl out of the tent. This was an opportunity for the crew to go underneath to put in the quarter poles. Dixie, the work elephant, wore a tug over her shoulders with chains attached to each side that joined behind her with a hook on the end. When needed, she was guided into position under the canvas and this hook was secured to a loop at the base of the first quarter pole. As she pulled the bottom of the pole, the canvas slowly rose into the air.
This style of setting up a tent was called push-pole. This process was repeated until all the quarter poles were in place. Thus, the elephant was part of the team.
The cookhouse was usually set up first and by about ten o’clock, the big breakfast meal was ready to be served. The signal was then sent to come and get it. For decades, most circuses had a flag that was run to the top of the cookhouse tent to signal that the morning meal was ready. We had no flag but the shout flags up, went out all over the lot to inform those working to come and eat.
Each day became a steady rhythm of activities. Inevitable situations arose that required immediate attention and became the punctuation of the day. Mechanical breakdowns, drivers getting lost, local municipal hurdles and other uncontrollable situations threatened the rhythm of the show.
The weather played an interesting role. Rain would render the need for a creative solution to provide comfort for the audience. It also forced other considerations during load out and could create difficulty with moving of vehicles off the lot. Wind was our least favorite. No matter what was happening, the circus trudged forward with determination.
The circus personnel were intriguing. Traveling throughout the country with this diverse group of people provided a constant mix among ever changing situations. A feeling of family was felt in each new place. The epic tale of our traveling populous was often more interesting than the performance.
Letterfly Writes 