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At the end of my time around the Blue birds, I loaded the livestock and made my way to Sarasota where my new horsemanship mentor lived.  Lessons with Dorita Konyot before and after the winter season as the resident artist at River Ranch became a regular pattern over the next few years.

Performing opportunities with the circus were dwindling while the demand for hand painted murals on motor homes increased. This did not dampen my enthusiasm for this performing art form. I remain passionate about learning all I can. I had plenty of time to rehearse and take lessons during the fallow time after the Blue Bird rally and before Christmas.

My primary means of income shifted as I capitalized on this niche. With many RVs across the country, I had found a place to thrive. Knowing how to travel to take advantage of this huge market, due to my circus background, placed me in a position of advantage over the others who attempted to break into this itinerate market. I had the means with which to pursue my passion – classic horsemanship.

Using Dorita’s place in Sarasota as headquarters for my act rehearsals and riding lessons was handy. At the beginning circus performing was my priority and breaks between seasons were filled with painting projects. Now there wasn’t much circus work. I still sought to make progress with my acts. A new pattern revealed itself as my sign and mural painting business took center stage.

The fairgrounds were arranged with venue sections available for the carnival, merchants and independent concessionaires. I had reserved my spot.  Efficiency reigned. The Jackson County Fair provided the perfect place for me to shine.  The Letterfly T-shirt booth I built was essentially a 1964 VW bus that served as a storage and transportation situation. The parked bus became an anchor for the superstructure attached to the roof rack that placed a twelve-foot display overhead of the passersby. Corner supports flanked the counter top area where my salesgirl was surrounded by display shirts that hung overhead. Inventory shirts were in the counter boxes. 

The upgrades to my booth elevated the appearance and efficiency of the custom T-shirt painting operation. Once the fair was under way, my helper handled the customers, took orders, found the right shirt and placed them in the pipeline.

            I became an airbrushing machine. I’d hand the finished shirt to the customer and grab the next one. I’d slip the shirt over the platen made for this purpose and review the order blank to acquaint myself with the request. Then, while people watched, I began the process. I started with a loose layout airbrushed in a pastel color. I’d switch to black once I had a handle on the design to establish the linework. Then the shapes received fill-in colors, highlights and a quick outline. A name took three minutes. Then the process repeated with the next shirt.

            In the midst of all this industry, a couple who looked out of place at a fair appeared at my booth. They wore formal attire with sparkling appointments, radiated opulence and patiently waited.

Once they got my attention, I heard him say, “we heard about you in San Diego.”

He revealed they had attended a motorhome rally where one of my murals on a motorhome was prominent.

The man continued, “we’re not leaving Michigan without an eagle on the back of our motorhome.”

This started our conversation.

I found out about a humorous occurrence that just happened. In order to find me, they drove their brand-new motorhome up to the entrance to the fairgrounds. The gate guard thought they were the grandstand entertainer Anne Murray. He directed them right into the infield and up to the back of the grandstand stage and parked them there. Once settled in their coach, they took a walk around the fairgrounds to find me.

I arranged to have them go to the campground behind the Beach Bar. I would do the work once this and my next fair were over.

The Beach Bar remains special to me. My career started there. Once tear-down at the fair was complete, I headed towards Clarklake where my customers were parked and waiting.

While I devoted time to their project – a scene of a majestic eagle flying over Captiva Island where they lived – I found out more to admire about them. They had the only garbage service and incinerator on the island. They described their life on that remote paradise off-shore San Diego. Now equipped with an RV, they planned to explore and see the many sights in the good old USA.  

I was able to share with them the names of fascinating destinations I had found. I love to travel. Because of this love, I was at the brink of a huge opportunity.

Upon arrival at the large convention center, I found several dozen Wanderlodges included Duane and Mae Jean’s coach. Theirs was the first one I duded-up back in Jackson. I became immediately busy. I lettered inscriptions, monograms and images of all kinds for their friends.

Because of the link to school busses, the Wanderlodge had a flat, front-end cap over the windshield with an area for a name to go. Similar to the phenomenon with boaters, these couples each dreamt up a name for their beloved coach. That meant work for me.

I lettered names like ‘Bird of Play,’ ‘No Reservations,’ and ‘Iron Bird.’ One coach name referred to its main color ‘Mauvelous,’ and there was also ‘Blue Thunder,’ and the ‘Blue Bird Inn.’  Those quarter million-dollar coaches were pure luxury. In spite of the obvious opulence, these ego-driven folks kept thinking of additional things to make their coach even more special.

My affluent clients wanted a monogram or a fancy coat of arms on the side and often requested gold leaf. The talents developed as a sign man, antique fire engine gilder, carnival decorator and airbrush artist came in handy with these folks with their appetite for custom works.

Each evening after the long day of delicate paint work, I attended the formal dinner prepared for all in attendance. This gave me an opportunity to network and meet new clients. Many of these couples invited me to come to their home to do the work. This became an emerging pattern of my service to these people. 

I found a new manner of living life revealed a little at a time as I responded to the requests I received from this group. When these projects were complete, I returned to Michigan to prepare for the Jackson County Fair.

Back in Michigan, rather than pursue sign work in Jackson, partly due to the lingering heart break, I sought the friendlier situation around the Elliott Amusement company.

By this time Red had purchased a new major ride. This gave the little show a big, elaborate piece for their summer route of fairs. Plus, Red had a nice piece of equipment to take to the big independent fairs across the country. The ’Crazy Dance’ was a round set of sweeps with tubs dangling between the ends. The entire structure was mounted on a center that had a lift arrangement that would oscillate the whole thing for a unique experience. The controls for revolution, speed, lift and center revolution were operated individually to provide the outer ring of passengers a custom undulating experience.

Red loved this ride. And, so did his crew. He had fun selecting a great song and choreographing a slow, up and down sensation in time with the music for the beginning of the ride. He simply lifted the table and activated the revolve feature with finesse. Then as the song gained impulsion, he turned on the revolve motors and gave them a fast, hectic ride.

He especially liked the Stevie Wonder song, ‘I just called to say I love you.’ While that tune played, he operated the ride in a special way that created an equally wonderful experience for the passengers in time with the music.

His annual route evolved by this time to start mid-winter in south Texas. He bought a winter quarters in San Antonio and traveled west to the big fairs in California during late winter and spring. Then he jumped to Michigan. Spending the summer in Michigan with this spectacular ride on the little show gave the show a big boost. As usual his enthusiasm was infectious and his help was filled with a similar zeal. His business partners had a similar positive attitude.

Tim Bors started in this business as a teenager with ‘Spin-Art,’ – a record turntable modified to lay a piece of cardboard on where the customers squirt paint from condiment bottles onto the spinning card to create a modern art effect. From this simple beginning, he accumulated a fleet of games and rides. He was an aggressive showman with a clear vision of what he wanted. His slogan was: bigger, better, brighter.

Every year he added another game to his line up and in his position as a full partner on the show, he also began to acquire rides.  Although he revealed his request for the next painting to me months in advance, I wasn’t completely privy to all of his plans for the future which logically pointed toward owning his own show.

I kept busy creating spectacular paint jobs that summer. When the fair season began, I included my T-shirt booth in the show’s lineup. Before that happened, I excused myself and went to Nashville to attend a regional Blue Bird rally.

Because my role as a sign and mural painter took me away from the horses, I formed the idea of a mutually beneficial situation for them. A situation where my horse would receive regular exercise and somebody else shared the expense. One concept was a share, or ’lease’ arrangement. Essentially, another person pays board in exchange for the privilege of riding him. The benefit was exercise and care while the other person enjoyed him. I did not want anyone who would interfere with my specific ambitions with horsemanship. I sought someone who would simply ride.

I put an ad in a regional horse magazine. I met Rosalind as the result. She enjoyed competition trail rides and because she was tall, she wanted a tall horse. We entered into what became a satisfactory arrangement.  My horse and mule spent the summer months near South Haven with Roz.

Roz had an Australian outback saddle and a two-horse trailer. She took Souveran on long rides and that helped keep him muscled up and bright while I was away creating beautiful paintwork.

During our occasional visits made between rallies and festivals, she reported things discovered while riding him. When the trail rose to a clearing and they could see for miles, if he saw another horse way off in the distance, his desire was to catch up and pass the other horse.

Occasionally she’d borrow another horse and we’d go on a ride together. There was a place north of South Haven where we could park her horse trailer, unload and ride our horses down a steep bank to get to the sandy shore of Lake Michigan. We enjoyed this opportunity to expose our horses to new sights along the shore.

 At first, I attempted to ride Souveran into the shallow water, but each time a wave came in, he quickly side-stepped to avoid the scary wave that came at him. Gradually, I coaxed him into deeper water. These new sights and experiences with my new friend were fun.

Sharing my horse with Roz freed me up to pursue the emerging market I had found. Creating airbrushed murals on motorhomes was an opportunity that required extensive travel. 

For several summers, the horse stayed with my friend Rosalind in South Haven, who rode the trails and kept him muscled up. Roz ran a beauty shop and over the years of continuing this exchange, we became good friends. I returned to the Elliott Amusement Company to paint festive works of art until my brief excursion to the Blue Bird rally. When their festival route started, I returned to set up my T-shirt painting booth.

I motored north with my entire entourage in the spring. I stopped in Fort Valley, Georgia and placed my portfolio of work created over the winter on display at the Bird’s Nest. Two Wanderlodge owners intercepted me and described the inscriptions they wanted on their coaches. I jumped right on those projects.  I also found out about the upcoming Blue Bird motorhome rallies. I made plans to participate at one rally in central Tennessee early summer. Then I resumed my trip. 

During those days I used an answering service; a company where my phone number rang. They jotted down each message received and a phone number for me to call back. Having a phone number became necessary when I launched my sign business in Jackson. Now the service became especially valuable as I served the itinerate motorhome clientele.

I received a phone call from Decatur, Indiana. When I returned the call, I discovered the caller had found out about me through a couple who visited River Ranch. Randy wanted me to stop by the Fleetwood RV plant to paint an eagle on a brand-new motorhome for one of their guests.

“Yes, I will be happy to do that,” I stated, “but I have a request.”

“I need a place to stable my horse and mule.”

“No problem,” came the reply, “one of our guys has trotting horses.”

I then received directions to an old farm south of Van Wert. The next day I arrived at Jeff’s farm, got the stock settled and parked the rig. Jeff filled me in on the details. I made preparations to go to work with my new friend. Early the next day, I made the commute with Jeff to the Fleetwood plant.

The flagship of the Fleetwood RV fleet up until that time was the ’Limited’ a medium size, gas-powered motorhome. Fleetwood had just developed their first forty-foot diesel-pusher and named the new product line: the ‘American Eagle.’ The transom of this coach had a big blank spot.  Among the first customers who bought this state-of-the-art motorhome off the assembly line was a customer who wanted an airbrushed mural of an eagle on the back.

Although the vast Fleetwood operation covered hundreds of acres in several locations around Decatur, the service facility where customers brought units in for repair was a small four stall building. A dozen technicians scrambled to complete a variety of projects while I received orientation for this project. Soon my step ladders and work plank were set up behind a motorhome. I got the surface cleaned and scuffed. I made the colors I would use. Soon I was up on the plank laying out what became the first eagle of many created for this genre of coach owners.

I started with the depiction of sky and mountains. When complete I worked on the details of the eagle. When the image was complete, I had a concern about spraying clear-coat in the service bays but Randy assured me that would be just fine. I sprayed on the clear protective layer.  The bays were filled with the fog of my efforts. All the doors were open anyway and the breeze pushed the cloud away. The customer beamed. He was pleased with the results and my reputation received a big jump start with this segment of the RV community that day.

I found out about a Fleetwood rally that would take place early fall in the Smokey mountains and made plans to attend. After bidding my new friends’ adieu, I returned to Jeff’s farm. I made the last of my preparations, loaded the livestock and headed north. 

The winter season was over. I packed a lot of activity into the month of April. I had time to pursue my passion. One day after rehearsing my acts at the ranch of Doris and Russ, with great costuming for the act was underway, I drove to Sarasota. I did not go back to John Herriott’s ranch. He was up north working his Shrine Circus tour. I went to find Dorita Konyot, whose father brought dressage to this country from Europe years ago and, interestingly, inspired and mentored both Vi Hopkins and Chuck Grant. I wanted to talk to her about my horse and perhaps show her what I had him doing.

Dorita had a small farm outside of town. I drove the VW bus to her home. After I pulled into her driveway, I saw a short house on one side of the property, a riding arena in the center and a long horse barn stretched across the back. I knocked on her door. When the door opened, I met a short, proud woman and immediately noticed her deliberate manner. Her long hair was neatly bundled into a top-knot, the smoke from her cigarette made lazy, rising loops, and she had a little dog in her arms.

I introduced myself and made my request to show her what I had my horse doing and to possibly become her student. She thought for a moment and then suggested a time for me to return and make my presentation.

I returned at the appointed time. With my rig parked in her driveway I prepared my horse. In the riding arena on her small farm, I put Souveran through his paces. Dorita looked on as she sat in the small observation booth with a thatched roof.

After my exhibition, I cooled down the horse, removed the saddle and gave him a break. I turned him loose on her pasture. She invited me into her home for strong coffee and to ask questions about the training I had received thus far. After listening to my answers, she pondered how to proceed. She made several conclusions as the result of watching my demonstration, among them was that I did not know how to use my legs properly. To begin my training, drastic measures would be taken first. 

Soon thereafter, my lessons began with Dorita without spurs. The primary emphasis stressed was the proper use of my legs to direct and bend the horse. She began with a careful explanation of how the rider’s legs were supposed to be on the sides of the horse. She used the visual explanation of pouring oil on the horse’s back and how the oil moved down each side. The oil was on the location of the rider’s legs but there was no pressure. The legs were to always be on the horse with no pressure and never lose contact. Dorita started with this foundation.

I learned minute movements had impact that influence the horse and promote impulsion. It would be two years before Dorita let me ride with spurs again, and when I did, I used them with finesse.

Our sessions continued with the lateral disciplines of Traver and Renvers. These are used to develop specific muscle groups in the horse that, once enhanced, enable the ideal engagement or stance of going. The shift in the distribution of weight allowed for a lighter more elevated forehand.

When Dorita was satisfied with how I handled my legs without spurs, we practiced the portions of the dancing horse routine that were enhanced with quiet and effective leg use.

With a minimum of signal, while my legs held the horse in the promenade, or proper posture, front leg extensions became more animated without interrupting the most important part of this movement which is the forward momentum.

Dorita learned horsemanship from her father, a gruff and demanding perfectionist. As a child, while she endured his bad-tempered conduct, she realized there must be a better, kinder way to instruct the student. As the result she became gentle and patient with her students.

While I worked with Dorita, I heard stories about her childhood trouping throughout Europe. I also heard about her years in Spain and Portugal where her family accumulated the wealth of information about the classically trained Haute E’cole horse from the horsemen who rode the bullfight ring. Those highly trained horses were used, not only as an exhibition feature but to taunt, evade and assume mastery over an angry bull. With her mother, father and brother they performed a foursome high school horse exhibition prior to the bullfights in the many arenas across Portugal.

I asked about her favorite place of all. She admitted she enjoyed her time performing in the Azores the most.

Dorita also fine-tuned my understanding of the liberty discipline used in my mule act. Among everything Dorita taught me was the last piece of the puzzle of the hind leg walk.

                We perfected the hind leg walk with Betty by going up and down her driveway. Once an exact understanding was established in the mind of the animal, the result of consistent behavior on my part, the signal I provided became steadfast. I could then attend to my posture, presence and charisma while Betty mastered her role on two legs, taking each step confidently.

Working with Dorita was part of a logical progression. She did not have to teach me the fundamentals adequately covered by my previous mentors. She concentrated on the aspects of the training that needed fine tuning. She provided me with many pieces of the complex puzzle that yielded a clearer understanding of the art of classic horsemanship.

With this introductory phase of our training complete, the time came for me to motor north to assume my sign painting duties back in Michigan. It didn’t take long to get ready as the temperature had assumed a constant ninety degrees. Before I made it back to where I call home, a surprise request provided a detour.

After the three-month frenzy of activity at River Ranch, John Herriott and I had a whirlwind training exchange that concluded with his getting ready to hit the road for yet another season.  When he hit the road, I went to the farm of Doris and Russ to practice my horse and mule acts for the upcoming tour. They had a circus ring and a barn with stalls. I had composed dialog to provide comedy for the January mule act, where the animal appeared to be stubborn and refuse to comply with the antics of the character. 

My friend Jim McKenzie came to camp out with me until his tour with the Wade Shows resumed. He found sobriety one year after me. We had a special connection because of our friendship on the carnival. One evening we went on a road trip to a meeting. While I drove, I invited him help me think up a clever name for my mule act. He had also grown up in Jackson and went to school with Gail. In spite of my breakup with her five months earlier, I still struggled with the memory of the loss. Even now, I continually attempted to let go.  

He knew I was grieving. In spite of the frenzy of activity found everywhere I went; I could not get the thought of the immense love I had for Gail out of my mind. The project of thinking up a name for my act would perhaps be a good diversion. As we motored down the road, I spouted off a name here and there and he would too – but nothing we came up with seemed to work. 

At last Jim perked up and blurted out, “Gold Dust and the Old Cuss!” 

“That’s it!” I exclaimed. 

I now had a name for my act with Betty the mule. 

He watched as I rehearsed the act the next day with new patter to support the comedy. 

One day after rehearsal, I sat on the ring curb and confided to my friend, “I haven’t thought about Gail all day!” 

Of course, that started the cycle of thinking about her all over again. But noticing that brief respite qualified as progress.  Then, I put the focus of my attention back on developing my act with Betty.  

I had a vision about how I wanted to appear in the ring and decided to consult a true show business professional. In the interest of having an outstanding costume for my act, I contacted Dale Longmire. I asked him to design something spectacular. Although Dale was best known as a clown, his talents as a gifted costume designer kept him in the kudos. During the interview he conducted, I described all my ambitions for the act, and my idea for the personality of my character “the Old Cuss.” 

He let that concept steep in his mind. Once inspired, he painted a watercolor and gouache image of the costume he visualized. With his painting complete, we visited Joanne Wilson at her costume sewing shop in her home in Gibtown where he described his vision. I commissioned a costume. 

Pictured in his vision were the typical long underwear of the prospector with a flap over the rear end. He also wanted a vest made from bright colors and full, baggy pants with many patches on them to create the feel of worn clothing. Key to the conclusion of my act were breakaway pants. Joanne knew exactly how to engineer pants that would come completely off quickly when the mule pulled on a feature on the back. This was augmented by a release mechanism on the front I would yank to ensure they came completely off at the right time. 

Being in the midst of the enthusiastic and flamboyant energy of Dale the designer and the wisdom, joy and talents of an all-around circus girl, my friends elevated my appreciation for the unique skills of this culture and brought my dream a little closer. 

While Joanne built my costume, I taught Betty the mouth tricks needed for this trick to work. I began teaching her how to pull a blanket off her back a year ago. Now I put a sturdy towel in my back pocket and taught her to reach out, bite and pull, in exchange for a reward. 

I soon had a plan for the conclusion of the act. Once Betty completed the waltz, hind leg walk and the bow, the cantankerous prospector would step in front of her to ‘take all the credit’ and style for applause. As I took my bow, Betty would reach up and tug the ‘rag’ hanging out of my back pocket and appear to rip my pants off. On the back flap of the long underwear, Joanne stitched the letters ‘the end’ for a funny final effect. I would deliberately expose my fanny as I acted surprised. 

Joanne also made an accessory for Betty to wear over her red liberty harness. Using a red patent leather fabric, she fashioned a back pack to support the prospector in the field premise. In addition to straps, flaps and side pockets stuffed full, there was a place to tie a bedroll, an old frying pan and a ladle that would all flop around and clank for ambiance at the beginning of the act.   While all these improvements, I had an act that proved even more entertaining than the horse act.