Bob Grubb

Bob Grubb was an old, tall and bald cowboy in faded dungarees with a perpetual chew in his mouth. His lack of teeth gave the act of chewing extra visual facial animation. When I met him, he drove a 42 Ford pickup that was a dull olive color, filled to the brim with an assortment of interesting, useable, valuable items that would make a hardware man envious. I spent a few days with Bob finding out the best procedure to begin putting together a pony act. A friendly enough host, he showed me around town and the fairgrounds, where I saw his horses and where we would keep my livestock, and to a farm where he fed cattle.
       In worn and patched blue jeans, he was quite content to bounce over the bumpy city streets of Hugo at a snails pace in his old truck. Still a teenager, my manner of thinking about driving was that an engine ought to be wrapped up to run at a high RPM, in order to produce efficient torque and not put any strain on the valves from a too rich fuel to air mixture. Evidently, from what I was experiencing, Bob had no intention of driving like I did. Pulling away from a stop sign, he would barely be crawling into that intersection, and already be shifting the column-mounted stick into second gear. Soon thereafter, hardly going 15 miles an hour he would shift into third gear and it was only a three speed. This is how I became familiar with Hugo, Oklahoma, bouncing in the passenger seat of an old pickup truck, looking over a mountain of useful items laying on the dash, putt-putt lugging along in third gear.
       Hugo was a small town, divided into neat little squares, dotted with modest homes amidst the dust. The fairgrounds were only a dozen blocks from downtown and in the center was a barn, typical of the architecture of this area. Rough sawn boards and telephone poles made up the skeleton of the building, corrugated galvanized steel provided the skin. The barn had rows of stalls on three sides and a large area in the center intended for livestock auction sales and an erect inclined seating area for spectators to gather at the front. The central area was the perfect size for a circus ring and several wintering circus acts shared the otherwise unused barn for practice each day. Aerial rigging for trapeze and web performers hung from the rafters. Bob’s time slot for using the ring was first thing each morning. A paint mare he called “Sue” and her colt named “Bingo” were boarded here. With great pride Bob showed me his impeccably groomed animals and the bow he had taught the young horse.
       Bob explained to me as best he could the ideal procedure for putting together a group of animals that, as a matched set, he could then begin training to become a liberty act. I learned the best way to start was with babies, about 18 months old. Animals without any previous training are ideal because their mind is uncluttered and fresh. Males are preferred because mares have cycles that make them emotionally inconsistent. Selecting animals for color, size and temperament from a large group has advantages to increase the likelihood of finding the best suited individuals. Not every animal on the face of the earth is ideal for this business. Harness and accessories, a facility to haul them in, provisions, sustenance, and ongoing maintenance were also topics that Bob covered in detail.
       Armed with this information, I left Hugo and set out on a road trip to begin accumulating. I recalled someone had seen a field full of yellow ponies as the show made its way through Indiana earlier in the year. It would be simple enough to trace the route of the circus through that area of the state and inquire at the local feed stores about such a place. I found the farm, west of Indianapolis, with 22 Palomino mares and several leopard spotted Appaloosa horses. The couple that raised these animals had the aspiration to breed smaller and smaller babies each year. They had five colt (males) babies on the ground that day and I bought all of them for $38.00 each. Before leaving, I requested that they also save all the colts from the next year’s crop for me. I had to rent a trailer, load the six-month-olds inside and head for Michigan. Hayes had announced to me earlier that year that I could raise the ponies on his farm.
       When I arrived in Clarklake, I began the fence building chores needed around the place and got my babies settled in. One of Hayes boyhood friends had a pursued a career in the carnival business and found out about my artistic tendencies. He had asked Hayes to have me make a paper pattern for a large sign he could have his workers use to paint the masthead of the show on a few of his trailers. I designed and perforated the large shield shape with a crown on top and some fancy circus letters complete with serifs and spurs that announced “W.G.Wade Shows.” All this was carefully drawn on heavy butcher paper on the floor of Hayes living room. When the pattern was complete, I perforated it with a pounce wheel so they could transfer the design easily. Hayes also had me paint portraits of his champion birds on fancy boards and design a logo or two to assist him with his advertising specialties business.
       With the threat of snow looming, I took my leave to head to south Texas to a warmer climate.