Uncategorized – Letterfly Writes

December 18, 2025

Sir Bingo

The auction barn in the middle of the fairgrounds in Hugo, Oklahoma during the off- season of 1975-76 had become a familiar place. Now during my third winter, energy was invested as I learned to work the horse that Bob Grubb had not only trained to perform a circus act but had raised from a baby. Now as a five-year-old, “Bingo” could march, bow, side step, lay down, sit up, rear, volte, and do the camel stretch. Each rigorous session with this horse concluded when Bob saw an improvement in how we were getting along and instructed me to “walk him cool.”

Part of what I enjoyed with this horse was to just get away and go for a ride. The streets of Hugo were used to seeing unusual sights around town because of the circus people who lived here. Occasional mornings we deviated from the rigors of practice and Bingo and I went sightseeing. This was a reward for doing well.

His father was buckskin with a black mane and tail and his mother was a white and sorrel paint horse. The combination they conceived was a white and buckskin paint body with white legs and a black mane. Spectacular was his tail; white with a black tip.

My time in the saddle became a time to think through the many other tasks that were waiting and to organize a plan for accomplishing them in the afternoon. This equine enterprise came with additional fascinating elements. Julie, one of the ponies, was pregnant. With Bob’s encouragement, we situated a foaling stall for her in the barn.

One rainy morning we discovered a wet baby in the stall. As we watched, the little wonder struggled at first to find a way up to her feet. After a few wobbly attempts, she finally stood. Seeing this wonder cemented awe. This addition to the group, as the season progressed, would prove as yet another target for my affection and an ongoing source of fun.

I had a challenge not predicted. The truck allowed great comfort for just the pony act. In order to haul the horse in the truck, I had to rearrange the floor plan. Instead of ample room for just them with the manger alongside an entire side, the interior of the truck received changes. Part of the manger was removed; the ponies were squeezed tight to the front and a standing stall was built along the outside wall for “Bingo.” The remaining area in the other corner was reserved for Julie and the baby. A small wall prevented Bingo’s front feet from stepping on anyone in front of him. I had to cross-tie his head up high to keep him from biting Finley, who now stood underneath and in front of him.

Adding the horse pushed the limit of this truck over the top. As the winter practice session came to its conclusion, the time arrived to go. I headed toward another brief tour, this time across Louisiana. I would perform the horse act for the first time. Then my plan was for another tour of Canada. Starting in Louisiana in the spring with what was left of the old Fisher Bros Circus, I worked my new act in front of sparse crowds.

The season of 1976 began with tire trouble. The pony truck was now overloaded. The leaf springs seemed to be getting tired. To prevent the tires from rubbing the underside of the truck box, I placed blocks of wood as spacers between the overloaded leaf springs. At one time I thought the best way to see the country would be on a traveling circus. That is just not true. The best way to see the details that abound and get to know the locals in this country is to be broke down between towns on a circus. I would see plenty this season.

At one location in Louisiana it was impossible to continue my trip without replacing tires. I was in picturesque bayou country. Spanish moss hung from Grandfather Oak trees. My rig stopped along a quiet road. I had room to unload. The ponies were out on the picket line, with the baby and Bingo nearby. I awaited assistance from a tire service truck. While there I studied the details of the weathered surroundings bleached by the relentless sun.

A long, low wooden building with large porch had no exterior indications to hint at what was inside aside from the neon beer signs in the windows. Completely open sided most of the year, a corrugated metal roof provided shade. Old wooden chairs invited comfort on the creaky wooden floor. A spring-loaded screen door with a porcelain “Tetley Tea” push bar across the middle would slam after each customer pried it open and went in or out.

This was not a highly traveled road. My compromised parking site on the side of the road was not a big concern for the slow-moving people in this sparsely populated and pleasant area. When the tire truck arrived my ability to roll down the highway was restored. I returned to the pace of two shows a day for the remaining weeks of the short season.

An oasis occurred when that short tour was over partway to the opening town. Those of us heading to Canada stopped at a family farm in Missouri to lay over for a few days. At that place I had an opportunity to paint the red stripe around the truck box. I also saw the remains of the hippopotamus semi that I took care of a few years prior. Ava had died. It was rusting, unused in the woods. We left in plenty of time to make the long trip to Alberta for the opening of season 1976 with Royal Bros Circus.

Prior to Memorial Day, the long jump to western Canada was complete and we were ready to open early summer. In addition to the six-pony liberty act and my new horse act, I played the pre-show calliope concert on the midway and became “David McDavid” the bagpipe player in the side show. I also worked the magic act as taught to me by Dennis Michael where I had the bird whistle pitch.

The baby pony, only months old, had begun to prefer hanging around Bingo, who was loose while other ponies were secure on the picket line. With increasing bravado, the baby’s territory increased. The baby began to follow us while I rode Bingo. The performance each day started with Spec, the parade of all the performers around the three rings in the big top. While I rode my horse, the little baby trotted along behind to the amusement of everybody.

The Royal Bros Circus opened the 1976 season in southern Alberta. The route took us up into the foot hills of the Rockies to several spectacular resort towns. In the midst of this rugged splendor, a flat place large enough to put up a circus was rare but, there we were. The raggedy old big top with our curious collection of rolling stock was pitched between the imposing mountains that dwarfed us and our specific intention. One day was especially memorable.

One sunshiny day prior to the matinee with the mountains looming all around us, I remember standing on the bally platform with the others during the side show opening. A sudden gust of wind blew way up in the mountains. A few moments later we were lightly dusted with the snow dislodged from the high altitudes. A chill of delight passed through the crowd accompanied this surprise. In a few moments the sun warmed us back up. We were immersed in some of the most picturesque country I had ever seen accumulating vivid memories.

One magical, dark morning, I drove into the tempering horizon with the foothills at my back. The roadbed leveled onto a long flat stretch. Ahead I saw a layer of fog that looked like a lakebed settled on the lower altitude. As the jump continued, I descended into this foggy area and became immersed in dense, misty surroundings. Visual access to the surrounding terrain disappeared. This was the fog of the cliché about your hand in front of your face.

Mile after mile I drove with utmost caution. Unknown to me, the sun began to rise. Accumulating light slowly illuminated the surface of this layer of fog, just above me. A visual sensation began and became a magical dance of light. An ocular rhythm occurred due to moving forward underneath the surface of this sea of fog. The light interacted with the irregular surface of the cloud and combined with a slow turbulence as it responded to the warming rays of sunshine. The visual experience that morning was not unlike the mystique of the Aurora Borealis.

On the other side of that long low stretch, an incline allowed me to emerge from the fog, where I witnessed the most splendiferous sunrise I have ever seen, in a sky so huge it must obviously have some of Montana’s mixed in with it.

This spectacular wonder was just one of the many visual sensations that mixed with the joy of being a performing horseman, creative in many ways that also served to validate the original decision to join the circus. To this day I remain on the lookout to continue seeing new wonders in this world that God has created. This life I have been gifted with continues to fill me with awe and zeal for each and every new day.

November 25, 2025

Circus Horses

On the big spectacular three ring circus of yesteryear, horses commanded the performance tober. The lavish warm-up display prior to the presentation of the elite dancing horse act, was a massive pageant of Manege horses filling all the rings and the hippodrome track in front of the audience. Among the circus equestrian performing arts, the Manege horse is an entry-level performing animal that the novice rider soon fulfills. Famous for the lay-down, sit up, bow, march and camel stretch, these poses are manageable by most riders, thus the name.

Dozens of horses were choreographed to perform these movements in time with the music prior to the introduction of the true star of the show, the Haute E’cole or High School or horse schooled to the highest level.

With that spectacle over, all eyes were directed to the highest-ranking equestrian performer of all. Classic horsemanship movements, the result of years of training and rehearsal, were then demonstrated to the audience. Passage, piaffe; high trot, march, canter changes, even the backwards canter with one elevated foreleg. These remarkable movements qualify as poetic and gymnastic and share the echelon populated by opera, ballet, orchestra and Shakespeare virtuosos. I had recently witnessed this rich tradition at Chuck Grant’s farm and my creative mind began to dream bigger dreams.

I had been saving my money during season 1975 to buy Bob Grubb’s horse “Bingo,” a Buckskin Tobiano Paint Horse with spectacular markings. Standing at 15.2 hands, his stocky quarter horse frame would provide me with a handsome steed. When the season was over, the riding lessons with Clarence gave me a foundation for beginning. Now back at the fairgrounds in Hugo, the time came for the purchase and to begin to learn how to work my new horse. I started learning another circus act.

With my six-pony liberty act, I had created a wonderful career with a promising future. Once the startup hurdle was over, the animals became seasoned performers. This package was perfect in many ways. The magnitude of work to get to this place had been rewarding and the experience would help me in ways I would realize later. Now the business of having this pony act settled into finding opportunities to perform on a regular basis and the ongoing maintenance on the road.

Another aspect that made this small business perfect was that I had options other animal handlers did not have. For extended periods I could place them on pasture during the off season, freeing me to pursue other opportunities. I actually credit these ponies with making me a better sign painter. No matter what, they kept right on eating. That motivated me ongoingly to find and secure sign work.

Now I was adding a Manege horse to the lineup. I still had plenty to learn about this genre of horsemanship. The success of this enterprise required developing relationships with others. Networking within the circus industry is how one kept an act booked. Established circus families had strong connections that resulted from many generations of activity. The upper echelon of circus performers was a close-knit family that trusted only time-honored generational links to the industry. I was the new guy and because of my childhood I was reluctant.

During the five years I provided the palomino liberty act to big top circuses, the most I ever worked in one season was twenty-seven weeks. Compared to the lucrative experiences enjoyed at the beginning of my career, the pay I received for this attractive collection of performing ponies did not match the investment.

I had been lucky right out of high school with Mel Silverlake, who wanted my creative skills. I had been in the right place at the right time, landing a lucrative role with his show. I had not learned several valuable social lessons in this industry. My mind was always on, but I was lost in the creative realm of visualizing more of what I wanted. I hadn’t developed an interest in others. Booking employment for horse acts and negotiating pay required skills and knowledge I did not possess. I was taken advantage of by shrewd producers and selfish circus owners. I was an outsider, not coming from a circus family. This promoted a skepticism and an aloofness that I didn’t understand or know how to break through. But it didn’t seem to stop me. I added a horse to my line up.

Perhaps the writing was on the wall in regard to horses in the circus of the future. Regardless, I continued with my plans to become bigger and better than ever. I had found another way to thrive. I was fortunate that when the ponies were loose on pasture I could chase and secure sign painting to do.

As Bob showed me how to make my new horse bow, stretch, kneel and march. I utilized the riding skills that Clarence had taught me. I began to speak the language to my horse that came through my seat, hands and attitude from the saddle.

Bob continued to teach me how to get this new horse through the paces each morning. Each morning our routine was to practice with supervision, covering all the movements. Then rehearsing a possible routine, striving to maintain the proper posture and attitude the whole time.

While learning the lay-down starting with a kneel, from where the horse would roll down onto his side, I had to make sure to keep my leg away from his side as he laid over, or else I would become pinned to the ground with a half-ton laying on my leg. I was taught to hold my left leg out when the barrel of the horse became steeply inclined, and this became instinctive.

After an intense session Bob would encourage me to go on a leisurely ride around town and along the country roads to get familiar with my horse and to give him a quiet reward. I had grandiose ambitions and while immersed in this learning curve, I would also find out there was a lot to love with having a horse. A horse is a magnificent and wiling animal and the reason that mankind has been able to accomplish so much throughout history. Once the horse understands what is being asked, he is willing to comply. He develops a work ethic that is directly related to the consistency of the rider or trainer, forcing an honesty to the surface. Results don’t lie.

September 24, 2025

Clarence Hastings

At one time, a fighting warrior mounted on a horse wielding a sharp saber had the most advantageous place on the battlefield. Automatic weapons changed all that. Overnight, the cavalryman became the prime target for the machine gun. Realizing this shift in advantage promoted phasing out of these centuries old tradition of discipline, pride and honor on horseback.

Clarence told me a story from his younger days, during his early career when he was with the cavalry. He was an officer and riding instructor up until the time the cavalry was abolished. The story he told was about that historic moment, on a sunny, postcard perfect afternoon in the midst of acres and acres of horses and mounted men, assembled for the last official order of the US Cavalry. Thousands of men were on horses, the groups delineating precise shapes across the rolling landscape in Virginia. Also significant was that this was the only time the entire force had ever been assembled in one location.

Once these thousands of horses and men were assembled all around him and the ranks became quiet with only flags flapping in the breeze, horses snorting and stomping, sword sheaths clinking and leather creaking can get, he heard the order given from the general in chief over the loudspeaker.

“Prepare to dismount,” echoed several times.

The order filtered down through the ranks, repeated by the subsequent ranking officers until the order was finally repeated to those in the outlying areas of that great assembly a full twenty minutes later. Then, after an appropriate moment had passed by, the final official order of the United States Cavalry was issued.

“Dismount,” echoed out over this massive collection of men and equine.

With that seemingly insignificant order, the historic tradition of fighting men on horses as part of military strategy in the United States came to a close.

By autumn 1975, my six-pony liberty act was working well, having completed the recent summer tour of Canada on the Royal Bros Circus. The next logical step to augment my ambition as a performer was to have a dancing horse. The Ganiard home in Michigan offered respite between tours and Hayes enjoyed hearing my strategy. Frequenting Clarklake had become a regular pattern of my behavior.

Earlier that year, the topic of having a performing horse occurred in conversation. My idea was met with encouragement and a surprise resources with which to start. I learned Hayes had a friend who was a riding instructor who lived nearby. For my lessons I was welcome to ride the family horse Coco, a black mare that had helped dozens of 4-H kids learn how to ride. Hayes equipped me with the bridle and saddle I needed, and soon thereafter, my riding instructor showed up to get me started.

Clarence Hastings had a snippety proper air about him. He had a curious upward hook on the edges of his smile, and a radiance that beamed from the sculpted features of his face. He had a specific way of standing in repose with one arm behind his back, palm out, holding the other arm at the elbow. This is the way I remember seeing him stand at the edge of our riding area, as he gave me instructions to follow. Clarence drove out frequently to give me these riding lessons in the fall of that year.

During the visits before and after these lessons I got to know more about this special man. His career began, first in the cavalry and then as a huntsman in charge of stables for the affluent. Like Hayes, he had a love for anything circus and had even dabbled in the theater.

Between riding sessions, I tended to the ponies, worked on sign work for the Beach Bar, and built improvements for my rig.

As the years went by, Michigan remained a regular stop to share tales of circus adventures with, not only Hayes, but now especially Clarence, as my circle of friends with positive influence on my life expanded. During these visits I became especially close to Clarence and listened to many stories of when he was in charge of hunt stables for the affluent. He had a big job. As the master huntsman he was in charge of the staff who provided care for the stable full of horses, the maintenance of the surrounding property and the care of saddles and tack. He also purchased hay, feed, blankets, special accouterments and everything else that went into the reason all of this existed: the hunt.

The master of the hunt rode first in the group of mounted owners, guests and support persons, following the pack of dogs on the trail of a fox. Tradition dictated hierarchy amongst the participants in the pursuit. The guest of honor rode up front. This person also received the cherished prize when the hunt was over – a forefoot cut off the dead fox. This was presented in a ceremonious way by the master of the hunt. Specific anecdotes from numerous hunts provided fodder for our evenings full of reminiscing. These fascinating stories from a privileged echelon of society revealed another dimension of my friend and added to the richness of what I admired.

In addition to the lessons, Clarence was able to give me a peek into the world he was introducing me to. During a special excursion Clarence took me to nearby Brighton, where he served as the director of a group of horsemen aspiring to give an exhibition performance. I rode along with my new friend to witness the rehearsal of “Horse Capades” at the farm of Chuck Grant, a garish horseman who also had a background with the cavalry. Later in Chuck’s career while running a fine riding stable in Chicago, he met and worked with the Konyot family of circus fame during their winter layoffs. Arthur taught him the finer aspects of classic horsemanship. He took what he learned to become the Grandfather of Dressage in America, and an esteemed instructor of riding and the trainer of upper level dressage horses. The best way to describe Chuck Grant is brassy. He was always first to call your attention to that which was good, especially if it was some aspect of himself. “You gotta toot your own horn, or else someone is going to use it as a spittoon”

As I watched from the seats at one end of the arena, the group of eight riders and horses began to rehearse their precision drill that showcased classic horsemanship. The group first began to parade around the indoor arena in single file following their leader. One by one, they imitated the example Chuck provided, assuming a similar posture going around the outside and then through the diagonal path across the arena, where two-tracks or side-stepping was demonstrated.

The rehearsal also included canter departs and changes, reversing direction by riding half a loop and walking the center line with alternating horses bent in either direction all staying on the same path. After this precision riding, more fun took place. One by one, each rider and horse found a place side by side across the center of the arena to stop. Then, all together, they asked their horses to tuck up one fore leg, lean back and put one knee on the ground for the bow.

Later, more amazing things happened with this group. I saw all the horses march, lay down, sit up, and after getting back up on all fours, do the camel stretch. As I watched in amazement from the plank I sat on at one end of the arena, Clarence was helpful with explaining what was going on. This glimpse at classic horsemanship gave me a new direction for the focus of my attention. The accumulation of knowledge and this new discipline would become both a passion and an obsession.

One winter, I made a road trip with Clarence to a circus fans home where a pre-shrine circus party was going on. Here I saw him in his element amongst an advantaged portion of society. His magnetism was apparent as the ladies gravitated around him to bask in his mystique. Active and entertaining, the conga line benefited from his zeal. He never married but did confide to me that one widow of a wealthy family wanted to cement their union and that perhaps he regretted not actually doing that. I suppose that his being a bachelor was established. His example revealed a hint at the flamboyance and the regard he had for others that radiated from his rich personality. We had many a get-togethers over the years and shared many facts about ourselves. I came to know and love this horsemanship icon from a unique industry and savor to this day, the influence he had on my life.

Autumn gradually turned colder. Our regular riding lessons became a situation where I was riding in deep snow and Clarence was sitting nearby in the comfort of his car. The miles I practiced sitting in the saddle properly, posting to the trot, guiding my horse through corners and making transitions – from walk to trot, trot to canter, canter to trot, trot to walk and walk to halt and stand – were all preparing me for the next logical step in my career. But the time had come to head south.

Escape from the snow took me on a track towards Hugo, Oklahoma. Bob Grubb had “Bingo” the horse waiting for me. He had raised and trained this colt to perform a circus routine. I immediately began to practice the exercises introduced to me by Clarence on this new horse, and learn all the motions that would result in his circus repertoire with the supervision of Bob Grubb.

Soon I was rehearsing in the practice ring in the barn the routine I would present on the circus that included march, lay down, sit up, camel stretch and rear.

I opened on a little touring circus in Louisiana in the spring. Bingo had become attached to the string of ponies. I could simply turn him loose while the ponies were on the picket line and he would remain close by. Julie had a foal in the spring, who was loose all the time, nursing on her mother. She learned to hang around the horse because he was more interesting than staying with mom who was tied up all the time. Soon the baby was following the horse into the big top for spec, the beginning of the show parade around the interior of the big top. Many people marveled at the sight of this little baby following that big horse. By Memorial Day I was headed northwest to open in Alberta, Canada with the Royal Bros Circus for the summer.

September 18, 2025

A Land of Extremes

The show entertained Canadian crowds all across Ontario and the next three provinces with route that went as far north as one could drive. We went west into farm country. Long, straight flat roads sliced through vast fields punctuated with occasional grain elevators. These farms counted size in increments of sections or square miles.

While the Royal Bros Circus enjoyed the vast breadbasket of western Canada curious regional characteristics required adaptation. There were no feed stores. As the show consumed hay and feed, those of us who required these commodities learned to interact with the locals who had vast farms. I learned to keep my empty burlap feed sacks and make my own deal between towns at one of the farms along the way. This is where I could shovel oats from their heap to fill my bags. The procedure as I spied a farm complex was to find the main buildings, pull into the compound, meet the personnel and make my own deal. I learned to keep my feed barrel full. In each province the show went as far north as the roads would take us. We went to remote places where these commodities did not exist.

After hop-scotching around and through this vast flat area, we headed for the northernmost town in Manitoba. Flin Flon is a mining town that grew where the geologic features that are normally deep in the earth are convenient at the surface making the mining of nickel, copper and other valuable minerals relatively easy. Prior to the trip we were warned to have our fuel tanks full because a hundred miles of the trip had no gas stations.

Billy Loter was the grandson of the organist Marie, who I played for as sideman during my Fisher Bros days. He was on the show here in various capacities and we became friends. During leisure time between shows, we adopted a style of making rhythmic sounds using almost nothing except our bodies. We experimented with slapping, clicking, snapping, popping, clapping, stomping and the like, often while walking somewhere. Some of the distant, exotic communities we played with the circus warranted investigation. Flin Flon was no different. After the show was over, we headed for town.

In this curious land of the far north, the surface of the earth had no soil, only rolling boils of solid rock. Because of this no utilities were underground. A curious infrastructure of boxes that contained the electric, water (and steam to keep it warm) utilities linked all the houses and buildings together. Every so often a stair-style led up and over the system of boxes. On our hike we went downtown and among the sights we found was the historic railroad station. While regarding this ancient structure we learned that this manner of transportation was at one time the only way in or out until the highway was built. While there we spied two pedestal steps used to assist passengers on and off the railroad cars. They resembled the pedestals used by many acts on the show.

On our return trip, heading back to the circus lot (the only flat place around where they gathered to play baseball) we took a route that placed us on a high overlook. From this perch we stopped to continue our rhythmic hamboning fun. As we looked down at the web of lights that delineated the streets and dwellings of the town and continued our fun, we became completely captivated in the magical moment. Suddenly in the midst of this merry making, we noticed something different. But as we looked around we couldn’t quite put our finger on what it was. Then the lights of the town came back on. We then realized that we had witnessed a blackout. Confident that the interruption had been caused by our riffs, chops and the ripple effect of our enthusiastic rhythms radiating outward, we vowed to keep the volume down in the interest of being good community stewards.

Bonnie Bonta also clowned on the show. She was an older widow with a circus background. She had a slight misshapen mouth that did not interfere with her enthusiasm. In the cookhouse, I heard her tales about being on shows in the past with her husband and how her son has carried on the tradition with various acts of his own. She had a slight handicap, a hitch in her giddy-up, I guess you’d say, that affected her gait. She drove a tall pickup truck with a camper on the back. The climb getting into the back of the camper was a struggle for her each day. I was able to be a friend and appreciated forever when I gave her one of my pedestals.

The rest of Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and finally Alberta slowly crept underneath our tires. The show continued west with the relentless rhythm of up and down through the ever-changing terrain of this vast country with occasional pockets of humanity that became our quarry. Because of our regular routine, there is a zone that all the people on the show get completely immersed in. At the beginning of the season, the metal stakes are rusty, the side poles and seat planks are dusty, and the canvas is musty. Little nuance, like anti-lubrication, seemed to interfere with initial efforts. But with each set up, not only are brain synapses getting connected in virtually every mind with the completion of every task but motor skills merge with instinct to make each successive set up more efficient, approaching what qualifies as a marvel while momentum is established.

Much like being wired during a long drive, the entire psyche of the collective humanity maintains this momentum that only takes the slightest stimuli to alert the body to go forward again. Up early every day to drive to the next town compromises sleep, so a pattern of rest after set up meant a regular quiet time on the show was part of the pulse. We all got quiet in the afternoon prior to the matinee, that is if everything went well.

A long jump or the breakdown of a crucial element of the circus meant redirecting energy to overcome the obstacle first. Then resume the regular rhythm often at the expense of that valuable segment of sleep. Then, between these challenging episodes, during long stretches of the season, all went well. That was what we remember and cherish.

Beautiful weather occurred as we traversed picturesque terrain, arrived at a perfect grass lot, enjoyed a seamless set up. Each nourishing meal in the cookhouse made the showman happy. A good turnout for the afternoon and evening shows with enthusiastic audiences promoted the premise of the quest we were on. With their envy of what we do. They see us traveling, doing amazing things and poring forth enthusiasm in spite of what happens. This is the zone that feeds us. We experience something as a collective living entity that became real one day at a time. With each successive day going forward relentlessly turned into yet another season.

Teamwork is what it takes, yet a flaw existed in the hierarchy here. Typically, when the combined effort of all is perfect and something occurred to reveal the true nature of an individual personality that, up until now, had been wearing a mask. With this close-knit society, there are few secrets. The business partner of the Canadian owner of the show was difficult to read. Using a slick demeanor, he was able to manipulate, handle and fix most beefs that occurred on the lot and was clever enough to repair mechanical malfunctions on demand. Yet there was a reserved reluctance with anyone attempting to be his friend. He maintained a narcissistic obsession with something unseen by holding his cards close and away from everyone.

At the top of the stairs that led to my living quarters, I had created a small area filled with shelves for cigar boxes filled with fastening devices and a small work bench. Here I had my assortment for ongoing building projects. One day rounding the corner of my truck, I found him standing at the top of my stairs with my door open. His head inside and he was helping himself to some screws and bolts. This violation of what was mine was never followed with anything that qualified as cordial. In a silent disbelief I resigned to use caution around his questionable ethics from that point on. He would fortify my concern about his decency as I observed his treatment of others on the show.

My friends, the Michael family had a hiccup in their tour late in august. During the school year, Dennis and Lynnie are assembly program marionette puppeteers in the Chicago area, plus the girls had to be back in school. Near the end of the season, Dennis went to John Frazier to announce that in order to be back in Indiana in time for school they would be leaving prior to the end of the season. John fired them on the spot.

Prior to leaving, Dennis lent me his side show magic tricks and his supply of bird whistles so I could become the magician and sell whistles for the rest of the tour. Being that far west in Alberta with two weeks off turned into the vacation of a lifetime for the Michael family, who then enjoyed a vacation in Yellowstone National Park and a leisurely trip back to Indiana. I enjoyed being the magician in the side show and when the season was over, planned a visit in Indiana to return his magic stuff.

Late in our season, off in the distance the silhouette of rugged Mountains loomed ever closer. We performed in front of Alberta audiences near the foothills of the Rockies until we closed late summer. The plan was to winter the show equipment at a carnival winter quarters in Alberta and have everyone return in the spring to reverse course and troupe back to Ontario.

The Loadstar, originally intended to carry an eighteen-foot box, now supported twenty-four. I kept customizing the rig, adding features that gradually overloaded the truck. I still had a plan to add a horse that weighed 1250 lbs. to my repertoire. As the season came to a close, my plans for the rest of the year were full. Before heading back to Hugo, to become acquainted with my new horse, I had the plan to take riding lessons in Michigan.

At seasons end, the long trip east included driving through a blizzard that slowed my drive across Montana. By the time I made it to Wisconsin. the truck was running on five cylinders. I limped in to the International dealer in Janesville on a Sunday and put the ponies out on their lawn with the picket line.

Monday morning, I had the valve covers off the engine and saw several broken valve rockers. I went to the parts man inside and explained my predicament. I could only afford to buy the parts I needed and put them on myself. They had none of what I needed in stock but they did let me take some rockers off another engine in the shop to get me going.

What motivated their decision was the ponies eating their lawn. Once I was able to load up and head east, the first stop was to see the Michael family in Indiana. Then I headed to Michigan to visit Hayes and start my riding career.

That winter, while preparing to perform with my new horse act, I built my own magic props and planned to add a magical talking rubber chicken act to my side show repertoire for the upcoming season. There is always something else.

August 15, 2025

The Liberty Act

Normally, with a six-pony liberty act on a circus, handling getting in and out of the tent with its many backyard obstacles is facilitated with two assistants. Usually, two people leading two ponies each, help the trainer with his two, and safely handle this task. True to my self-sufficient nature, I figured out how to never need any assistance from anyone helping handle my pony act. I utilized the system of “come alongs” learned from Bob, which linked each pony to the preceding one. Using calm repetition, they learned to stay in a single file line and get through the many obstacles as I oversaw their effort. During the introductory announcement by Corky the ringmaster of Royal Bros Circus, we made our way inside the big top, and then into the ring. I would then have them stand at the back of the ring, unhook the “come alongs,” and start the act with all of them truly “at liberty.” Our act began at once.
Gesturing “Lead off,” they would start to run around the ring. After several revolutions, the time came for a change of course or a complete reverse of direction for this single file line of yellow ponies within the ring. This involves my signal and a quick change of position in the ring, that blocked forward movement and encouraged them to come toward and then away from me. As the group threads their way around me, they run in this new direction for a while. After a few laps, I would have them reverse again and encourage them into being six abreast, or what is called the spoke of a wheel. This involves the lead pony at the outside perimeter cantering very fast and the tail pony near the center, next to me, walking very slowly. After the six abreast, it was time to single them out once again, and at the back of the ring, bring them to a halt.
Consistent behavior is what they understand best. The structural language of gesture, maintaining a calm emotional condition and consistent body language is key to maintaining healthy communication with a horse. With the repetition of two shows a day, they became comfortable responding correctly to my cues as I guided them. Among what I oversaw to insure harmony were influences of individual speed; slow one down or catch another one up. By far the most important movement to maintain is to have the ability for them to stop at the back of the ring and face me. All these responses are reinforced with consistent body language.
I had been reading some new age main stream spiritual literature by Carlos Castaneda and as the result was inspired to utilize positive mental imagery to influence the outcome of each performance with the ponies. Each day while standing in the backyard waiting for my time to go in, I would close my eyes and visualize the entire routine occurring flawlessly in my mind.
The first season touring with six ponies was not without challenges. Among the distractions around the Royal Bros Circus in Canada was when the sidewall was hoisted up on a hot day and the view of the spacious outdoors proved tempting to the filly, who became noted for jumping out of the ring. Since he had been trained to follow her, little Finley often joined her as she ran around the interior of the tent while the show as going on. My being a perfectionist with esteem issues, taking the behavior of a pony personally – as evidence of failure – wanting to provide only a flawless performance, had set me up for an endless source of frustration.
When a pony made a mistake, due to the dynamic of behavior, typically the same mistake would occur at the same place in the routine the next time the act was on. Rehearsing between shows was only partly good. The stock soon became wise to the fact that without an audience, they would have to comply or do an extended rehearsal. They became what is known as “crowd wise,” that meant I had to become an effective trainer during our act in front of the audience. As a hot headed teenager with an inferiority complex, I took any aspect of what the ponies did personally. Fortunately, as the season progressed, so did the ponies.
The original three ponies, with a season under their girth, were a steadfast influence to the three green ponies. Jumper was a new pony third in line. Due to the unwavering nature of the two in front of him, he became steadfast and consistent. Tex was the cut back pony moved from position three in the line up to number four. Tex was ideal in this role. The cut back is where the last three ponies reverse direction while the first three maintain their counterclockwise momentum. His long back, stout physique and somewhat simple mind had learned concisely what he was to do when asked that also coalesced into a do or die attitude. Whenever I asked for the cut back he was quick to comply. Once he had the concept he was unstoppable. After the cut back I would single them out once again. After another revolution, at the back of the ring, I would bring them to a halt.
While styling for applause in front of my standing group, the prop man would set the hurdle at the front of the ring. I had fashioned this hurdle using two pair of hames. Hames are a two-piece structure used with pulling harness that goes over each side of the horse collar that has the trace straps attached. I had found two fancy metal pairs with brass knobs on the top. They were welded crisscrossed for the hurdle jacks, with an opening on the ends for a 2X4 suspended between, that provided the bar for them to jump. When the hurdle was in the ring I would tell the standing ponies to “lead off” and as before in single file, they would all begin to run around the ring and go up to the hurdle and jump over, all except the tail pony. Finley appeared to be mischievously avoiding the hurdle although he had been trained that way. Another round and all the ponies would jump again… all except Finley, who by this time had captured the attention of the audience. My exaggerated gestures and feigned frustration at his defiance got a laugh. Finally, the third time around, I am shaking my finger at him and he finally makes the jump and gets a big hand. The fourth and final time the whole group goes over the hurdle and he gets away with avoiding it one last time to get a laugh. I line up and halt the group at the back of the ring, and then style, and take a bow.
Next, one by one, I ask them to begin to walk and turn away from me and go toward the ring curb. One at a time they mount the curb with their front feet. By carefully placing one foot over the other, they proceed to travel the entire perimeter walking around the entire ring, two fore feet on the curb, both back feet on the ground. Once they have traversed the entire circumference of the ring and are all poised at the back, still mounted on the curb, I take a style and get a big hand.
        I next gesture for them to come off the curb and they single out at a brisk pace in contrast to the recently completed slow portion of the routine. Once again they are running around the ring. When conditions are right, I gesture for them to waltz, which is to turn 360° within their own length. Each pony has a different vantage point to observe my cue from. The lead pony is off my port side, the tail pony my starboard side and the rest are at various points in-between. As I gesture, which is a step forward and backward with a sweeping signal of the whips, each pony has a different reference angle to observe this body language that means something to him. Simultaneously they all do a turn in their own length. After several successful waltzes, I allow the first five to continue circling around the ring as I call the tail pony, Finley to join me in the center of the ring. He comes to me, and once at my side, I ask him to lay down, sit up and after the get up, ask him to bow. Once these specialties of his are complete, he resumes his position at the end of the rest, still running around the ring.
       The conclusion of the act takes place as I halt the group at the back of the ring. Once they are all facing me, I ask for the rear. This cue has me first, making sure that I have their attention, and then sharply moving toward them with the command “hup.” Simultaneously they stood up, straight as a candle, and then came back down to the ground. I then turned toward the audience and ran to the front of the ring. The ponies were following right behind me, encouraged by a helper behind them. I leapt over the ring curb directly in front of the patrons in the front row and as I did, the ponies mounted the ring curb with their front feet. This was the final salute, an opportunity for the final bow in the midst of thunderous applause. I took my bow. Then the time came for me to re-attach my “come alongs” between each of them. Once intact, I would hold the lead pony, encourage the rest to back off of the curb, and the lead them single file through the center of the ring towards the exit of the tent.
       A liberty act takes a couple of seasons of repetition before they work consistently. The summer of 1975 in Canada on the circus was the perfect place for this exposure and training to prepare me for my ambition of bigger and better circus opportunities in the future. That is, if nothing went wrong.

July 16, 2025

Season 1975

The circus awoke at dawn. That was a fascinating time to embrace the beauty of a new day as the trucks that carry the show are started. Then we began driving towards another destination in unfamiliar territory. I love to travel.

Imagine a fleet of colorful trucks and trailers with specialized cargo inching its way through the terrain changes that occur along the length of Texas. The fertile valley yielded to alkaline wastelands. Gentle rolling hills gradually became the beautiful lush farm country made special this time of year with bluebonnets and Indian paint brush tainting the fields of green with spots of blue and red.

Every hundred miles the country side changed. The observation of these differences gave this time of day part of its activity. Soon the show was amongst the tall cypress trees of bayou country and headed north into farm country.

It was the spring of the year as the show meandered from the south following the blossoming of spring flowers with the eventual destination being the perfect climate of the Midwest in the summer. From Texas into Arkansas the early morning wonders continued.

The roads took on rugged characteristics as we entered the Ozark Mountains. Hair pin turns and steep grades slowed our progress and provided ample opportunity to take in the sight of old growth woods, primitive dwellings and countryside such as I had never seen before.

One morning sets apart from the rest and made an indelible impression. The curvy roadway followed alongside a river bed. Erosion over eons had carved away the limestone leaving spectacular cliffs that hung out over the road. These cliffs overlooked other large stone formations with still water alongside making picturesque views that added magic to the morning.

Later that same year my mom and dad would discover this same countryside.

During the brief tour through the bayou country of the south on a big top circus, I discovered the challenge of going from a three-pony liberty act to a six-pony act. The difficulty increased far more than if this were a simple mathematical equation. The new ponies had an ever-changing environment filled with audible, emotional and visual distractions. My effectiveness as a trainer often became secondary in the mind of one of my charges.

Now I attempted to stay in contact with the group but when one renegade became turbulent, I discovered I hadn’t yet learned how to stay calm. Instead of the humility that would have served our bond, I entertained the idea of being a powerful, father knows best, with a strict stance that would dissolve instantly if Julie jumped out of the ring. I had created an immense amount of ongoing frustration as the perfectionist in me attempted to get this bigger group to accomplish the routine flawlessly, twice a day.

Late May, I headed to Canada to open once again in Ontario with the Royal Brothers Circus. On the way to Canada, I was able to visit Hayes, show off the rig and livestock and tell him about my next acquisition, a Manege horse for my second act. He then realized I would need to learn how to ride. He suggested that I return at the end of my Canadian tour to take riding lessons. He then called a friend who drove out to meet me.

Clarence Hastings had a background starting with the Cavalry and later with Hunt/Jump stables. Retired now and living nearby in Jackson, he would be happy to give me riding lessons next fall. When the time of reunion, encouragement and friendship was over, it was time to go into Canada.

Once again, Al Stencell met me at the port of entry and satisfied the customs and immigrations people. Then I followed him to the lot. All the preparations for another tour were underway. The big top was going up in the air and the equipment that had been in a storage barn all winter was unloaded and erected for the first time. I was elated to be reunited with my dear friends the Michael family who were here again with their acts. Lynnie and I had become pen pals. I had a friend in her whom I shared innermost thoughts, ideas and dreams for the future. She was a relentless source of encouragement and is an intensely creative person herself. We shared a special place co-creating as our correspondence continued. Now on the same show, we would consume gallons coffee and continue with the interwoven disclosure of our innermost imaginings.

Some of the other performing families and members of the crew were from the tour of two years ago. That familiarity proved to be fun. Upon arrival, I had plenty to do. The series of one day stands with two performances a day began immediately.

On the lot the next morning, with most of the fleet headed towards the next town, among those cleaning up the evidence of our presence was a rookie recruited to pick up manure. I was loading the ponies and dismantling my awning. Being one of the last to leave the lot each day meant that my passenger seat was the logical place to have this new guy ride to the next town. The boss made that suggestion.

My new shot-gun friend was Al Jones the Clown. Starting on his first day, he rode over the road with me each morning and almost the whole time we sang along with Elton John, Neil Young, Alvin Lee and other favorites on my 8-track tape player.

My runaway ego came to the surface as the result of being a star in front of the public. Seduced by applause, acceptance and approval that temporarily existed in the limelight seemed to be a remedy for the lingering esteem damage suffered as a child. Establishing a pattern of behavior that would characterize my method, I wanted more. I found the nightclub scene in Canada. In the excitement of the throbbing music and chemical induced laughter, I was often recognized, idolized and immediately accepted amongst the locals. Always eager to do it again, I often stopped downtown in the morning before getting to the lot to inquire if a band was playing at the hotel that night. The riotous lifestyle seemed to be an answer. Finding this place to fit in worked great at first, but as time mixed with the relentless pace of accomplishing all my roles on the show with this seething caldron, this solution would take a terrible toll.

The glorious tour started across the towns in Ontario I was already familiar with from the tour two years prior and then we went north and west across new territory. Ontario soon disappeared from sight in our rear-view mirrors. As the rhythm of the tents going up each morning and back down each night continued we entered new territory. So did the new sense of stronghold that summer in the northern latitudes has.

With each day the sun stays up longer, and soon teardown was taking place with only slightly waning sunshine. Although late, in these northern latitudes, the night sky often became a magical place. Starting with a slight smoky wisp on the horizon, a little luminescent animation somehow seemed out of place. This would often grow into a wandering and weaving, undulating phosphorescent essence in the darkening sky. If we were lucky, this display of rambling glow would grow to fill the sky and when the animated presence was directly overhead, one could see an inner detail within the wavy shape that had another pulse, mixation and luminous turbulence inside that seemed as hallucinogenic as nature had ever created.

This mixture of various colored lumens would throb and weave, boil and flow in ways that the connoisseur of cloud shapes imitating emotional personalities would envy. Standing in the darkness, looking straight up into this fascinating display of nature, I was totally consumed with awe. As I recollect that moment now, and seek to recall the thought activity taking place at that time, I find none.

Sometimes in the morning just for fun, I would have a different passenger on the trip over the road than my regular shot-gun Al the Clown. The kids on the show found out that I stopped along the way for coffee and a piece of pie or sometimes a banana split and would beg Al the Clown to trade places with them. As we passed through the small towns in the morning, I was on the lookout for an old-time drug store with a soda fountain. Those were the days of downtowns flourishing with mom and pop businesses. Small shops filled these communities. The employees of these stores were part of a family and reflected that with their interactions. They were concerned and curious, and often asked about why we were stopping through their little town. Al and I being proud of our roles with the circus would fill in the blanks on their questions while coming up with curve balls of our own. When we did find one of these interesting places and I found one of the stools along the counter and the waitress showed up, the fun would start that had been rehearsed during the many times that Al and I had stopped before.

“I’d like a banana split,” my banter began, “with the cherry on the bottom.”

This sort of request was sensible to me because I like to eat the cherry last. This sort of interaction would often bring about surprising results. One time, at the end of devouring my ice cream, I found three cherries at the bottom.

July 11, 2025

All Six

Returning to the fairgrounds in Hugo, Oklahoma with a herd that now included three seasoned, crowd broke ponies, the time arrived to finish my aspiration for a liberty act with eight matched palominos. During the winter of 1974-75, I resumed assisting Bob Grubb with the training of the rest of my Liberty Act, of which, from the batch of eleven ponies to pick from, six ended up matching nicely. The training procedure and method was the same as the previous winter. Bob and I entered into the regular rhythm of our familiar routine.

The original three ponies were now coming three, the right age to geld, or remove their ability to reproduce. This would eliminate their increasing tendency to bite, be aggressive and kick at each other, a common studly behavior.

One afternoon, the veterinarian came out to perform this procedure. As they readied themselves for this familiar (to them) procedure, I was recruited to sit on the neck once the pony had received a shot of something that would make him collapse. Bob had a rope tied to each hind foot and the rope went underneath and around the pony’s neck. As the pony laid on his side, Bob held these ropes fast, so that Doc could perform his procedure without getting kicked. First the loose ball sac skin was pulled out and cut away revealing the nuts inside. In order for the geld procedure to be ideal, the balls plus some cord that lead to a little button all had to be removed. If the little button was to remain, the animal would retain some studly characteristics and be referred to as “proud cut.”

Superdog was there to eagerly observe, and the vet threw him the nuts which he eagerly gobbled up. After the procedure, the pony was allowed to get back up. One at a time we turned each of them loose in a paddock to heal. Throughout the day, we encouraged them to move around so they wouldn’t stiffen up.

Over the long run, this procedure proved to have a great settling effect but with the addition of the younger males, some studly activity would plague the initial season for the six.

The seasoned three veteran ponies provided a solid foundation for the introduction of the new yearlings. Of the new animals, three had the color and size to fit nicely with the others. “Jumper” was placed in the lineup at position number three. He had earned his name early on as we observed his style of getting out of the stock trailer. Tex was the seasoned cut-back pony, so he went to position four.

“Julie” was the filly thrown in during the second purchase. She was named after Hayes daughter. Although our ambition was an act with all males, since she had the prettiest color and the right size, she was selected from all the rest to fill position five.

“Finley” was slightly shorter than the rest, perfectly suited to assume the role of clown renegade that Bob had in mind for the tail pony. Impressed with a school teacher I met during the previous season named Diane, I used her last name as his moniker.

The remaining colts were traded and sold to both circus and cowboy contacts Bob had in the area. This group of six became our sole focus.

Once established, the sequence for these animals never changed. They were tied in the barn next to each other in the same order they appeared in the ring. This way they became accustomed to always being in the right sequence. The same arrangement existed when they were out on the picket line or loaded in the truck.

Bob started the new individuals, one at a time, like before, getting them used to being handled and responding to his cues in the circus ring. In just a few weeks he had the new guys in the ring with the three veterans. Doubling the size of the group increased the opportunity for mistake making exponentially. Our daily training routine now required immense diligence and being functionally proactive.

After the morning training sessions, my afternoons were dedicated to building the many features for the pony truck visualized in my mind. In nearby Paris, Texas I found a 24-foot truck box to replace the 18-foot box. This size would provide more room inside but the chassis would have to be modified. The truck went to a machine shop to get the frame stretched. This is a procedure where the frame is cut and a new section of frame rail and a drive shaft is added, then the longer box is attached. Once intact, a truck body modification place added two side entry doors. One would receive my new improved ramp system and the other, a set of steps to access what would become my living quarters. With these modifications complete, the rig was again parked at the fairgrounds and my work on the interior began. The experience on the tent show, and later on the school house show made me aware of challenges in these differing situations and various features to include on this truck. I had many ideas for these improvements.

Outfitting the larger box to comfortably house the ponies utilized the earlier design expanded for six. The walls were insulated and lined with plywood. Slide open windows were added for ventilation. A sizeable overhead loft for hay was created in the area over their heads. Many efficient features were designed and built to best accommodate these ponies including water storage and an improved ramp system hinged inside the side door for loading. The living quarters created in the front featured a shower with hot and cold running water, a first for me. The following summer I would find and install a ceiling made of salvaged decorative, sculpted tin panels found at a building being torn down. My bunk was high across the front, over wardrobe storage space and I even had a desk. At the entrance to my living quarters was a mini foyer with a tool, gadget and work center with a hand cranked bench grinder, among the many tools and fastening devices stored in this handy place.

Each evening after my morning training session with Bob and the afternoon of building inside the new rig, I walked a mile downtown to Vet’s Café for dinner. Arriving to greet the staff near the end of their day, I would usually request that they use me to finish off any of the specials of the day items that remained.

“Just use me to scrape out a pot” I’d say.

The ladies took a liking to me and made sure I had a generous meal each night. Often times I would find hidden in the basket of rolls, a few pieces of chicken wrapped in foil to put in my pocket for later. Once I quizzed the black cook about this gesture. She explained that her daughter was off at college and she hoped that someone else was watching out for her.

The long walk back to the rig in the waning light became a time to de-brief, plan for the new day and pause, as I had become accustomed to, to find something to be grateful for in the midst of all this industry and for the many positive influences that were shaping my life.

With all the preparations made, and the ponies working as well as to be expected at the barn, the time had come to head out. Although I still had dreams for additional features for this truck that included possum bellies and a decorative red stripe around the outside. The time had come at the same time as my usual indicator – my boots being completely worn out – to hit the road. As these preparations were finalized and the pony act was rehearsing better and better, I found out about a tour with what was left of the Fisher Bros Circus through Louisiana in the early spring. As before, the daily rehearsal of the pony act could only go so far. The time had come to work the act in front of an audience.

After that short tour, I could lay over at a winter quarters in Missouri prior to the trip to Canada. Many of the personnel on the show also had the main goal of another tour of Canada for the summer. Before leaving Hugo, Bob encouraged me with the idea of having a Manage Horse that did many tricks as a second act. When I returned the following winter, his colt “Bingo” would be another year older and a prime candidate. We made another deal. Bob would begin his training that summer while I saved my money. Then it was time to hit the road.

June 20, 2025

Beverly

As a member of the circus audience in her hometown in northern Michigan, I caught her eye from the bandstand three years earlier. Beverly was a tall, longhaired beauty. After tear down that night, an evening of petting initiated our mutual interest in each other. We became pen pals, requiring her to be diligent about writing back to the address I always included of our future destination.

I experienced a sensation that I had never noticed before. The whole world seemed to glow as I went through my established routine. The tasks seemingly fell away, and my usual particular attention to detail seemed fortified with a joyous regard and enthusiastic zeal. The faces of the patrons seemed to have a glow all to themselves too. I just knew they could see it too. This sensation expanded throughout the summer ahead and seemed to lighten any load and fuel me with zeal for whatever was in front of me.

She had a summertime job working for a man with a tourist shop that made souvenirs out of Petoskey stone, a regional geologic phenomenon. Millions of years ago, ocean bottom corals were abundant in this area. Over time the precise pattern similar to a honey comb became imbedded in stone. Now these stones are abundant in this area of Michigan. To make souvenirs the stone is first sliced into thin pieces that reveal the precise pattern and polished. Then the thin sheets are carefully cut by hand into interesting shapes to be made into earrings, pendants and the like. The most popular shape is the outline of the state of Michigan. This is what Bev did. Sitting at the bench with a special saw, a variety of shapes were cut out of the stone and made into merchandise that was also on sale in the shop.

At the end of that season, I had several projects to tackle. I spent the winter at my parent’s home outside of Chicago and built my camper that would also house my drumming bandstand. I was most anxious to show off my handiwork to Beverly.

After the completion of my camper late winter, I drove up to see her and meet her family. Her father had built an A-frame home in a lovely setting in the woods outside Traverse City. I was introduced to music I hadn’t heard before; Seals & Crofts, Cat Stevens and Carol King, and their backwoods lifestyle. We enjoyed an evening of snowmobiling and togetherness prior to my heading south to a warmer climate. Our correspondence continued. As a result, she stayed abreast of my aspirations and adventures on the circus. Our communication covered a variety of interests and spanned our infrequent visits.

One benefit of the tented circus going broke earlier in the year and my hooking up with the Voorheis Circus was that I would be performing in her proximity twice more that year. I couldn’t wait for her to see these ponies. When the show played near her home, I anticipated her visit. I was so proud, standing in the truck, ankle deep in hay, with my beloved ponies. When she arrived, Beverly instantly fell in love with these cute yellow beings and spent the entire afternoon and evening with them, brushing, primping and pouring out affection and love. I saw something special in her that night that validated the warmth that had been growing inside me. I asked her to join me and come along. We could be a family. Her, Superdog, the ponies and myself.

We had a wonderful time together during that visit. The ponies performed flawlessly. She appreciated the level of ability we had achieved. Too soon, the time came for me to head out to the next town. For reasons I may never know, Beverly did not join me on that itinerate pursuit. Our letters continued, but began to wither as my travels and ambitions took me farther and farther away.

At the conclusion of that season, I headed to Clarklake, picked up the rest of the ponies and began the trip to Hugo. I was learning one of the first of several lessons about how this rigorous lifestyle is jealous of any other love. Being in love and not knowing what to do would be replaced with a clear career path. For now, my mind and all of my energy was occupied. I had a big dream and much to do. I became completely immersed in all that was in front of me.

June 4, 2025

Smokey Jones

When I was a child, my mother took us to see the circus. This was an amazing experience and I was sold on the spot. Under the giant canvas big top, numerous things took place simultaneously. Among the many displays were three rings filled with elephants. These groups of giant mammals would move, pose, stand and salute. The prop men who rolled the tubs in and out of the ring had to be fast to stay out of the way of these fast moving behemoths. At the conclusion of the three ring display, all twenty-two elephants were lead out onto the track that surrounded the rings and encouraged to run. With the herd running at breakneck speed, the ground shook and our adrenaline spiked. The speed and thundering mass of the herd created its own cyclonic vortex that sucked empty popcorn boxes behind them in their wake. In front of the grandstand the elephant boss would stop the first bull in his tracks. Then, like dominos except going backwards, the successive elephants would stop, rise and place their front feet on the back of the bull in front of him, and in only a few moments, the entire column of twenty two pachyderms dwarfed the audience that now looked straight up to see the giants posed in what is called the long mount. This is one of the most significant thrills I remember as a child and the picture remains vivid in my mind.

During the Voorheis Bros Circus tour in the fall of 1974, I became friends with the famed elephant trainer, Smokey Jones who took me under his wing. During our tour of one day stands performing in high school gymnasiums, I learned many things. The specific manner he taught for popping a whip utilized a technique of swinging my arm in front of my face that seemed to be counter intuitive but, as Smokey pointed out, would result in the return action of the lash – after the crack – going away from my face, hitting the ground and rolling away from my pants leg. He explained that the sound is made when the speed of the end of the lash actually breaks the sound barrier. In addition to learning how to properly pop a whip, I also learned how to twist a popper and weave a four strand plait.

Smokey Jones was a perfectionist. Every little detail was carefully attended to. Instead of a mere bucket to water his elephant from, Smokey had a spotless, stainless steel diary bucket. When the leg chain was removed, instead of the customary mainstream procedure of dropping it to the ground in a heap, to be untangled when next needed, Smokey carefully unhooked the fastener and laid the chain out straight, so that when he returned, the motion required to reattach would be minimal. As I noticed these and other peculiar behaviors, I also realized and appreciated this nuance of efficiency. An opportunity was here to learn a wealth of, not only information, but an uncanny personal philosophy that would influence in a positive way. As Smokey pored forth his personal recipe for success, I came to know and appreciate the attention to detail and attendance to exact procedure he was obsessed with. Smokey introduced me to the concepts of integrity, perfection and preparedness invaluable to animal trainers and caretakers.

Smokey gave me a twisted willow whip handle which is an interesting device. A piece of wood is actually quartered most of the length and each section is rounded to resemble strands. Then, after being soaked to promote pliability, the strands are twisted into a rope-like configuration and lashed at the end with a loop of leather to receive the lash. After acquainting me with this hefty device, he proceeded to demonstrate how a lash is fashioned out of sewing machine belting, a long, round piece of leather used for pulley belts. After securing one end, he made a gentle taper using a sharp knife, a steady hand and a keen eye. Into the end of this ideally shaped leather lash, an eye was punched to receive the popper of which I was next shown how to make. Using nylon kite string, multiple strands were doubled over; an eye was tied into the end and held fast on a nail. Then the twisting and turning that made the many strands begin to resemble rope began with an occasional half hitch of just a few threads to bind it together. Then the twisting and turning resumed adding length to the popper. Occasionally a few threads were severed to allow a taper to occur and after these processes were repeated multiple times, a handsome popper about nine inches long was completed with the tying off of the stray ends with several half hitches and the excess was left hanging out, to become the working end that takes the beating.

In response to his generosity, I not only told him about recently exploring the winter quarters of the Lewis Bros Circus in Jackson and disclosing my finds, but I presented him with the antique elephant bracelet, a wide leather band with three buckles, covered with brass spots as one of a set of decorative pieces for the elephant to wear during the show that I had found. He also gave me a handsome lash with a latigo Turks head that connected the loop to a tapered four strand plait body that went into a single length of strap onto which another of his famous poppers was attached. He explained that this lash was somewhat clumsy and did not work due to being out of balance, so I could only use it as an example of the craft. I still have this lash in my collection.

The idle times together were quite enlightening. Not only was I being introduced to specialty skills but as I imitated the procedures he demonstrated and taught, the stories of circus life in the old days kept me at the edge of my seat the whole time.

When the two shows were over each evening, the children from the audience were often enthusiastic about the ponies and were often available to recruit to help carry out the pieces of Celetex flooring. When I had these little helpers, after the show, I could stay at the truck to receive and load the pieces as they were carried out. Once the last piece was loaded, I could close the doors on the truck, load the ramp and drive away. No one was allowed to remain on the school grounds overnight, so once again all the show folks were on their own. Smokey and I had similar needs. We would often find a place to park together somewhere along the way to the next town.

Smokey was full of stories, especially anecdotes about his days with the big herds. At one time he was the boss of the Ringling Bros Barnum & Bailey herd of 38 animals. Elephants are ideally suited for a variety of roles and a big reason that the circus was able to accomplish so much in a day. Elephants could do more than just pull as the baggage horses did. They could also lift, push and grab. In addition to the performance roles where large groups of pachyderms would dance, pose, form pyramids, stand and salute in the show, the elephants would also augment the teamster’s efforts and even perform specialty tasks. They would push heavy wagons, pull stakes, hoist rigging and provide a valuable service to the immense aggregation of muscle that moved the giant tented city each day. SMOKEY 6 2 He told another story about when he was young and just learning to be an elephant handler around the Daily Bros Railroad Circus. One of the many duties of a work elephant around a show with wagons was to prepare them before the end of the day prior to when a team hooked on to take it to the train. Pushing the wagon pole of a heavily loaded wagon off center, toward the outside of the lot, would not only facilitate the teamster hooking up his team, but ease the initial pull by this team. Instead of a dead pull straight forward, the torque needed was fractioned somewhat to move the wagon sideways at first, gathering momentum out of that spot, then straightening out while underway. Moving a wagon pole was effortless for an elephant. She simply leaned against it with her trunk.
SMOKEY 4B 2 If a heavy wagon had a team hooked up that needed help getting momentum started, the handler would have the elephant place her head against the rear of the wagon and push. Once after spec, while the elephant was still wearing her fancy leather headpiece with ornamental brass spots all over, and Smokey was still in wardrobe he saw such a wagon in distress. He simply went over and had his elephant give the wagon a push with her head. When he got back to the picket line and the boss saw that all the brass spots on the headpiece had been flattened, Smokey got an earful.

During his youth around the “corporation” shows that wintered in Peru, Indiana, named because several circuses operated under one umbrella, tremendous time was spent caretaking the abundance of animals on the three shows. Those were the days when the circus made a spectacular impression on audiences all over the country by providing an abundance of wild animals in a variety of massive displays. Exotic cats, lions, tigers, bears, camels, seals, horses, and others, ad infinitum made up these big acts.

These herds, teams, groups, collections, gangs, gaggles and flocks all required an immense amount of hay, feed, fruit, vegetables, meat and other forms of sustenance. That was the main reason the winter quarters were situated in the middle of farm country. They were close to the grain, hay fields, farms and stockyards. Plus the immense amount of by-products had to be handled and disposed of requiring crews of men with specific and often multiple roles to fill.

He beamed a sinister smile as he recalled the story about when he was cutting up meat for the cats and how a little renegade ankle-biter dog, that was the pet of one of the office ladies, was drawn to the temptation of fresh animal meat and entered his proximity. Smokey took some disgusting part of the carcass innards and tied it around the neck of the little dog and shooed it away, so that when it returned to the circus office, the dog owner would get disgusted.

As he shared these stories about the good old days and the rigors of the railroad circus, I was in awe of what he got to witness during his lifetime. The recollections shared made this history that took place before I was even born, come to life once again.

The style of daily routine on the school house circus, in contrast to the intense routine and highly social lifestyle on the tented circus made for a lonely on the road experience. I was glad to have a friend like Smokey on this tour. During the afternoons of tending to our chores, I was imprinted positively as the result of the observation, tutelage and encouragement received from this man. His influence echoes today as I go through the routine of up, down and over the road, making sure all preparations possible prior to showtime have been completed. He stressed “be ready” as the mentality to maintain throughout the day when searching for the next right thing to do. I have found many positive experiences and influential personalities along this road called life so far, and Smokey gifted me with his big hearted positive influences, yet my heart longed for more.

May 23, 2025

Circus Voorheis

The relentless pace of one day stands on a big top circus can switch from the regular rhythm in a moment, into a turbulent situation for an ever expanding list of reasons. Like all aspects of nature, show business is involved in an evolution. At one time, circus acts shared the theatric venue called vaudeville. Entertainment changed with the advent of motion pictures and the displaced acts either evolved or died. Change is constant. I was in the midst of learning the lessons that come from upheaval from the solution I had found at the beginning of the year, having turned into a dead end. Having found an alternative, scrambled to embrace this new opportunity, but was to find it was not without additional demands for change.

The first season with the beginnings of my young liberty act were not immune to trouble. As the animals became familiar with the chaos of working in front of an audience and became consistent with their routine, other factors interrupted our momentum. After the whirlwind experience of being on the Barnes & Dailey Circus that folded mid season, getting the livestock relocated, racing to get equipped by buying a truck, selling the camper and getting the new rig racked to haul all my circus equipment, prior to landing a five week contract with my three pony liberty act in the fall of 1974, I arrived in a parking lot of a high school in a small town north of Detroit. I was glad to find work.

My tour on Circus Voorheis provided my first experience of performing with an indoor venue. I was to learn several distinctions exist from the grass lot big top version of doing one day stands, here on a school house circus.

The first difference was the footing for the ponies on the gymnasium floor. A school house circus was perfect for unicycle, roller skate and juggling acts that suffer on a bumpy dirt lot, but the slick floor was a detriment to my pony act. I had to invest in Celetex or Homosote sheeting to lay on the gym floor under the canvas ring mat to provide proper footing for the ponies. This is a thick insulating board made from a loose cardboard-like material.

This circus was different in other ways too. Since each gym had bleachers, none of the big top or seating equipment used on a mud show was necessary. The show only had to carry props, lighting, sound and concessions. We also had a different daily routine. The show was not welcome at the building until school let out. Rather than enjoy the daily camaraderie I was used to on a tent show, here between towns everyone was on their own. With different needs, the various trucks and trailers of the staff and performers were parked hap-hazard at shopping plaza parking lots and various other convenient places to wait until the school building became available. I had entered a new realm of entertainment. With my reclusive pattern of identifying problems, creating solutions and accomplishing things on my own, this new itinerate routine was quickly adopted.

My immediate daily needs along the route were for water and a place to dispose of manure, so truck stops and remote areas became frequented and fertilized. I had livestock to tend to, so I sought grassy places on which to put my picket line and let my three ponies graze each morning and enjoy some sunshine. The rest of the time they lived in the truck. Hay mangers were rigged inside with cross ties so they could live just like in the barn back at Hugo.

I had to be one of the first ones at the building each day when school let out, to get my celetex floor in the gym. Because of this, my truck was typically parked next to one of the gym doors. First, I would carry all the pieces of Celetex sheeting inside and arrange them on the floor. This was then covered by the prop crew with the ring mat. The ring curb was then added along with the lighting, sound, and props for the rest of the acts.

The experience of working the rookie pony act on a gym floor each day had one attractive aspect when, one day Tex decided to jump out of the ring. In his defiant scramble for freedom he discovered the floor was slick, and that he had no control. In the midst of his forward momentum outside of the ring, he lost footing and fell to his butt sliding into a pile of props. Gently, I stopped the other two and went to get Tex, kindly guiding him back into the ring. He never jumped out of the ring again.

Aerial acts that enjoyed the ease of existing rigging in the big top had a different challenge here. On a daily basis they had to find suitable places in the ceiling or rafters to secure their rigging. Doing this rigging overhead was a daily challenge dependant on whatever opportunity existed. Because we set up when school let out, last minute preparations were still taking place as the first show crowd arrived.

Once the ring was ready, the time came to primp and groom these pretty yellow ponies and get them ready for the show. This activity took place in the truck along with the harnessing. Horses really are wonderful animals. I remain impressed with their willingness. I had a concern about the ponies pooping while we were in the building, something that would be both inconvenient and embarrassing. Other circus animals were conditioned to poop prior to performing. I learned about a way to promote their bowel movement for the sake of cleanliness and adopted this technique at the beginning of my tour.

The harnessing procedure prior to each performance began with laying the apparatus across the back of one of the ponies. All of the features of the harness were then convenient. The headstall was hung on one of the check reins, martingale on the other, and the back band that lead to the crupper hung alongside the kidney drops. The first step was to lift the tail and carefully put the crupper in place. Then the girth is secured by reaching underneath and grasping the belly band and threading the strap through the buckle and pulling it tight. At this point, early in the tour, I took an eyedropper filled with mineral oil, inserted and squirted the contents into the anus. Soon thereafter, the bowels promoted elimination right there in the truck. I only had to do this procedure for four days in a row to condition the desired response. From that point on, all I had to do was lay the harness on their back and they knew it was time to poop

I was not needed to play the drums here on this show because Colonel Bill Voorheis was the drummer. On a tent show I could listen for the music going on and by recognizing the tune, know which act was taking place. Now on this show, the music was contained within the walls of the gymnasium, so a quick hike to peek in the side door was required. When I knew what portion of the show was going on, I could be ready in time for my turn to go in and perform.

When the time loomed near for my act and the ponies were ready and standing in the truck, I would quickly change into my costume. I wore straight leg, vertical stripe, high waist tuxedo pants with boots. This combination accentuated my height and made the ponies look smaller. A ruffled tuxedo shirt with bow tie and a jacket with claw hammer tails completed the look. I would grab my pointer whip and lash whip and guide each pony down the ramp from the truck, one at a time. Soon I was standing next to the building, ready to go on with three palomino ponies with red leather harness and feather plumes at my side, hooked together with come-alongs. When the whistle blew and the door was opened, our entrance promoted oohs and aahs from all in attendance. The quick paced animal presentation provided contrast from all the other acts that were predominantly performing people accomplishing a variety of athletic, balance and dexterity feats. All the other acts except one.

A man with a clean converted bread truck with an eight ball mounted on the front and a travel trailer hooked on behind had a baby elephant and three kids. When he entered the gymnasium with baby “Tika,” accompanied by his gorgeous red-head daughter, this elephant was on her hind legs, walking towards the ring prior to their entertaining routine. Since Smokey and I had the only performing animals on the show, aside from a magician with poodles in his act, I naturally gravitated towards this man and his enterprise. I was to find, not only a common interest of animal training that became a passionate topic of discussion between us but also access to the foundation of his personal philosophy that would positively imprint my soul.