Letterfly Writes

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.

May 16, 2025

My Kingdom for an Elephant

Jimmy Silverlake had created not only an efficient moving under canvas circus for season 1974, but the arrangement of canvas and other rolling components on the lot was quite pretty to look at. The image of this tented city on a grassy field conjured up awe, curiosity and intrigue, yet one element was missing. How can this be a circus without an elephant?

In the spring, Jimmy heard about an opportunity to buy an elephant from Tony Diano, a rogue that couldn’t be let off her chain. The deal came with an old rusty trailer and an antique tractor to pull it but Jimmy had room for the elephant in his animal semi. Soon the new attraction was transported to Michigan, tethered and on display, and the rig that came with her became empty. Bert Pettus became our elephant man.
       Having this large empty trailer on the show gave me the ability to pick up the remainder of my ponies from Hayes farm and get them used to traveling on the show. This meant I was tending to eleven ponies.
       Sunshiny afternoons with my ponies on their picket line proved to be a magnet for the little girls that lived in the neighborhood. I had a bucket full of brushes that I would place out near the picket line and the girls would figure it out. Get a brush and go groom a pony. The palominos loved the gentle attention and I had the livestock curried by show time.
       Later in the summer, Bert and Marie’s daughter and her family visited between shrine dates with their two appaloosa high school horses and a six pony liberty act. For the brief times they visited, we had a tremendous population of ponies on that little circus. Jack and Sandy Fulbright showed me how they tended to and performed with their ponies, accelerating my understanding of this specialty.
As the season progressed, so did the proficiency of my pony act, but the show didn’t fare well. It is never good when the circus catches up to the agent. The rhythm of one day stands became erratic, with gaps during the week when the show would lay dead for a day at first, and then more came with alarming frequency. The tour ran out of route late-summer in the Upper Peninsula, due to the lack of advance personnel. On the school grounds, where the circus played its final engagement, all the investors that had helped Jimmy launch this show arrived to divide up the assets. I had lent him some money too, but due to the hierarchy, was last in line for anything.
       Sitting dead on that final lot, the group bounced ideas back and forth for dissolution, figuring out what each one was going to get, then they had an idea.
       I heard, “give Dave the elephant.”

That prompted a flood of concerns. The surprise prompted my imagination to dream up several survival scenarios. My mind became quite busy attempting to figure out, like the rest, how I was going to begin my travels from this place. Sitting on the lot with no way of my own to haul eleven ponies and an elephant, wondering how I was going to proceed occupied my mind the entire night. I was relieved the next day, when they announced other plans had been made for the pachyderm. But this brief episode does qualify me as having the ability to claim being an elephant owner for a day.
Billy Griffin invited several of us to regroup at his family home in Princeton, Indiana. Jimmy let me use the old dilapidated bull semi to get the livestock to southern Indiana while Audrey from the cookhouse drove my pickup and camper. I had to do something to get equipped to tour with my ponies. I needed a truck. Billy helped me find a truck through the dealers he knew in the area. We found an International Loadstar in Poseyville with an eighteen-foot box that would serve quite well to carry the ponies.
       Once this rig was secure, I began the process of getting it equipped as my pony truck. I rigged up a ramp that hinged down from the side door, and fashioned mangers inside for the comfort of the ponies. The truck also needed a trailer hitch welded on the back for the calliope. I could sleep on the bunk in the trailer for now and have plenty of housing for the three ponies, hay and equipment in the truck body.
       While we camped in Princeton at Billy’s mother’s home, everyone was making changes. A clown from the show who made the trip with us lived in an old dodge van and wanted to buy my pickup with the camper. He drove his old van like a clown would, often screeching to a stop from a tight turn that gave him a thrill. The living quarters inside would be a big improvement for him, but he would have to learn how to carefully drive this top heavy vehicle.
       One at a time, the kinkers left for other digs. The clown found another show to perform on and headed that direction. Audrey planned going with Billy to south Texas. I learned about an upcoming job, a several week tour of one night stands through Michigan on a circus that performed indoors in school gymnasiums.
       I could leave seven ponies on a pasture nearby for six weeks and pick them up when my tour was over and head for Hugo. We all said our goodbyes and the headed different directions.
       At the end of this whirlwind preparation session, enroute to the school house circus tour, I took frail Teddy to Hayes house in Clarklake where he lived the remaining few weeks of his life in his backyard. I often think that celestial beings come to us disguised with hoofs. Knowing and believing this is proof enough that I was visited by an angel. Teddy blessed many children while on the circus during his brief life.
       Everything that I knew to do to be ready was done. I thanked my friend Hayes and started the trek towards Detroit, but nothing would adequately prepare me for what I would discover when I made it to the next circus.

April 25, 2025

Opening Time

The daily routine of liberty pony training in winter quarters at the fairgrounds in Hugo, Oklahoma by this time included my being in the ring, working the three ponies proficiently with just a few weeks until the time arrived to go open with a circus. The final step, prior to this opening was to get the ponies “crowd broke,” or used to the noise, music and the applause they would experience at the show. During our training sessions, Bob clanged trashcan lids, played a record player and created other distractions in the barn while I worked them. This was in an effort to introduce them to working amidst chaos and disruption, but nothing would get them used to the real thing.

As the time came to think about the new season, Bob did his best to prepare me mentally for what to expect when I began performing in an actual ring on a real show. As I continued accumulating my understanding, Bob explained to me that the horse trainer actually wants the animal to make every conceivable mistake. It is during guiding the pony through these mistakes into the behavior that is desired, that the pony learns thoroughly. He told me that the first time a colored circus balloon would land in the ring; the ponies would probably be so terrified that they may bolt out of the ring. He went on to tell me that I would have to remain calm and guide them through all these circumstances because every conceivable thing that can go wrong will go wrong and with each episode I had an opportunity to teach my steeds again. Little did I know that all of these stories, the coaching and the encouragement would not completely prepare me for what was actually going to happen and that as a perfectionist dealing with the immense variety of combinations of mistakes possible, I had created a future with a cacophony of confusion, blunder opportunities and a performing career with industrial strength frustration.

I made a deal with Jimmy Silverlake to present my 3 pony act on his circus. He had left the family and launched a show called Lewis Bros circus with a partner the previous year. Now as the sole proprietor of his own circus, he was willing to give me a position where I could present my unproven act. Typically special consideration is given to a rookie animal act due to the training that will continue as the animals settle into their routine. With a green act and no truck to haul the ponies, I also needed a situation where I could expose these rookie ponies to the pandemonium of working in front of an audience and also have a place for them to ride. Jimmy had room in one of the show trucks for the livestock. Additional preparations were taking place at winter quarters for the upcoming season and he appreciated my other talents being available prior to opening.

In the spring I moved my camper, ponies and calliope trailer from Hugo to Medora. I was welcomed again to the Silverlake family winter quarters I was already familiar with from my Clark & Walters and Fisher Bros Circus days. My abilities as a fabricator and sign painter kicked into high gear, as we made many final preparations and I decorated his fleet.

The Barnes & Daily Circus opened in the spring of the year in a nearby small town in southern Indiana. I put up the small tent purchased from Buzz Barton as a stable and provided many other skills for the two inaugural performances. Perhaps, as a hint of the unpredictability to come, I had a rude awakening the next morning. Although the show was torn down and loaded, the location where I had the ponies stabled was in a low lying area on the lot. After a late night rain and resulting flash flood, my ponies were standing in knee deep water. After sloshing through the water to rescue and load the ponies in the elephant trailer and tear down the little tent, our 1974 season began in earnest.

The series of one day stands began their relentless rhythm and each day ran a little more smoothly. Our tour opened in southern Indiana and the route took us north through farm country to Michigan. The show was a testimony of efficiency, designed by a man who knew how to move a circus. Traveling on three trucks and trailers, the big top was a bale ring top, as opposed to the push pole tents of previous shows. That meant the poles went up first and the canvas was hoisted up the poles. This method of handling the canvas makes it last much longer. This circus was conceived, built and created by the brother of my original mentor, and was clearly a clean, efficient, attractive, and in my opinion, the neatest little circus anywhere.

Each day on a new grass lot, I put the ponies out on the picket line and would turn frail Teddy loose, as he would just hang around the others anyway. Little children gravitated to his peaceful presence and enjoyed petting him on the circus lot. Although too weak for any other role, Teddy remained as our loved mascot. Anyway, three green liberty ponies was a manageable size group for a novice to handle.

Soon the pattern of having the ponies on display in their little stable/tent on the midway, along with my Calliope, added to the visual appearance on the lot. I played the calliope before each show as a preamble to the performance, and for the “blow off” (when the patrons leave when the show is over.) I played old time tunes like “Daisy Daisy” and “Bicycle Built for Two” in the afternoon prior and between shows. While the ponies were in this situation, I observed the animal’s magnetism and the kind air that the patrons enjoyed. Through this exposure to the public, the ponies developed acceptance, tolerance and love for our audiences.

Inside the big top, my pickup truck with the drums bandstand was backed into the tent alongside another calliope. Bobby Green provided the music having migrated from the defunct Clark & Walters. Also here, Dot and Sonny Burdett added a touch of class to the show with their presence. Sonny always dressed to the tee assisting his tall lovely wife with her rolling globe act in the show. Billy Griffin worked in the office and dressed as a clown for the performances. Marilyn, Jim’s wife, performed aerial web and ladder.

I learned as a child that even an ideal social environment is complicated. Around a circus, egos get fed by the ongoing approval of the crowd. The narcissistic element that is inside all of us sometimes gets inflated beyond its intended purpose. Blind to the origins, sometimes tension develops between personalities. Egos clash. Without interruption or intervention, the caustic condition infects others, sides are taken and chaos reigns.

On a circus there are seasons when the personnel combine seamlessly to form a team that works well together and the experience along the entire route is heavenly. Then there are seasons where individual agendas take precedence over what is best for the show. Bickering and back stabbing take on a life of their own, resulting in an unhealthy experience. With the sincere attitude of regard present in the personality of Jim Silverlake, his pleasant, altruistic mindset radiated outwards to influence others and prevail on our show. That season came quite close to what may qualify as heaven on earth.

Needless to say, at the beginning of this tour, I went through a major learning curve. The pony act, although pretty, with animals the color of a shiny new penny, with contrasting red leather harness and feather plumes, suffered visually when a mistake occurred and I became clearly frustrated and it showed. I was to learn that among the skills appropriate to develop in my new role as an animal trainer was to mix acting along with training, as I guided the ponies through each mistake. Visible frustration was clearly not received well by the audience. The procedure of correcting an animal in the public eye needed some shiny gloss and a fixed smile. With some encouragement from the circus owner, I began to learn finesse. I became quick to maintain my smile, loving radiance, and kept my discipline discreet. As the weeks went by, the ponies caught on, becoming consistent each time we performed, and I could concentrate more on the acting, presentation and connecting with the audience during the act.

A few weeks into the season the dreaded balloon I had been forewarned about finally did drift into the ring during the act. I watched in horror as the lead pony “Buttons” went up to it and sniffed it. His response was to jump over it and resume the routine. I was surprised and so proud of him. The other two ponies “Buster” and Tex” concentrated their attention on following and doing whatever “Buttons” did, so although they shied away, they didn’t think much of the balloon either. What a relief.

The circus wandered north, criss-crossing the state I was already familiar with due to my first two seasons on the road. At one stop in a very picturesque town on Lake Michigan called Harbor Springs, I took a walk into town to enjoy the splendor of the quaint old vacation homes, tree and streetlight lined avenues and the beautiful natural setting overlooking the water. On the return hike through this utopia, I found a path that went through the woods. The natural beauty of these surroundings elevated my emotions to an unprecedented height of gratitude. Around each turn on the path, my feelings took flight.

The quiet nature walk among fernish greenery and chirping wildlife allowed me to find a secret place within that promoted a peace, oneness and joy. As if in a dream, around the final turn that lead out of the woods, I found a lush grassy field with a pretty little circus set up in the middle. This lovely picture remains unforgettable in my mind. The one ring, two pole big top with flags flying, an appropriate sized marquee to welcome the patrons in front of it, and the highly decorated trucks and travel trailers efficiently arranged around the lot made a pretty picture. I walked into this scene and four little yellow ponies looked up at me from their picket line in the grass.

This was a jewel of a show, the masterpiece of a man who, not only knew the logistics of how to properly put a show up and down each day, but how to load equipment efficiently on a minimum of trucks. As a finishing touch on the lot and to add an interesting feature, my calliope trailer and ponies were situated at the outside edge of the midway to greet the patrons as they arrived each day. As the rhythm of up and down each day combined seamlessly with the pleasant attitudes of the personnel, a feeling of oneness grew inside me. I was truly proud to be part of this show while simultaneously entering a new chapter in my life, and some of the best artwork created to date was on this fleet. I felt that this must be what is referred to as the piece de resistance or quite possibly the “magnum opus” of circusdom. As the season progressed, I thought; what could go wrong?

April 15, 2025

A New Role

The observation of the liberty horse training process and my role as assistant each morning in the dusty ring barn at the Hugo fairgrounds as Bob Grubb trained my liberty pony act during the winter of 1973-74 proved to be a valuable prerequisite to not only understanding this performing art form but would also benefit relationship skills in other arenas. After only six weeks, the pony act was complete to the point that I was ready to assume my training to learn working them in the ring.

Out of the original ponies brought to Hugo, four began the training process and three worked out nicely. One pony appeared similar to the others in the first batch purchased for my circus act but by the time he was a yearling he hadn’t grown into a picture of health. Bob recognized some aptitude when the training of each individual began but when they were combined into a group of four, little Teddy didn’t have the energy to keep up with the rest of the group that lapped and ran into him from behind. Teddy proved to be too frail and without the energy to keep up with the rest. His training was discontinued even though he was willing. Something in his eyes communicated the desire that existed in his heart. He wanted to participate but because he seemed frail we discontinued using him in the training for the act. In the midst of this daily routine, a man came to see me. Manual King invited me to go with him and eat a meal at Vets Café downtown. While we ate, I learned that he had a snake show that toured with Carson and Barnes circus and that he wanted an elaborate front painted on it. I was already busy with my pony act so he had to so some real talking to get me interested in going with him to his winter quarters near Houston in Pearland, Texas to tackle this project. The only time I could fit an undertaking like this into my schedule was immediately, over the upcoming Christmas holidays. Manuel, who had a golden, persuasive voice and a beaming personality made the proposition attractive to me. Soon thereafter, with a minimum of painting supplies and my bag packed, I rode with him and his family on the long trip to his home. On the trip I learned that Manuel’s claim to fame was being the youngest lion trainer of all time, starting as an eight year old performer on his father’s circus. His father also imported animals and performers to America and Manuel still recruited acts for Carson & Barnes Circus from Mexico.

When we got to his home, I found the snake show set up in his backyard. As we looked it over, Manuel shared an embryonic idea for me to develop. There was no hesitation. Although I had never tackled such a massive undertaking in my life before, confidence carried me forward making up for the void of lack of experience. I dreamt up my concept, drew a sketch that was met with his approval, and over the successive days, the themed front began to materialize as my brush did its magic. “Princess Xochile” the Aztec Goddess was soon pictured alongside the title of the show. The central image was the scene of an Aztec pyramid being squeezed by an enormous python. While working on this project, I was made part of the family. Due to my being with them over the holidays, I was introduced to a new tradition; the Mexican style of Christmas. Special foods, customs, lots of tamales and other ethnic specialties filled these days with a new experience. This was my first Christmas away from my family and the tradition I had grown up with. This exposure was rich. The love, excitement and delicious abundance that abounded in their home remain a cherished memory. After the holidays, with the show front complete, Manuel gave me a ride back to Hugo. Then it was time to resume learning my act. Back in Hugo, the daily morning repetition became a consistent routine with the ponies, something that would remain constant from this point on as I morphed into my role for the road. My afternoons were free and the nearby winter quarters of Carson & Barnes Circus received a positive report from Manuel and also became interested in my ability as an artist. They brought me their office trailer for extensive decoration. I laid out and painted the shows masthead and extensive scrollwork on the exterior, and near the office windows, painted diagrams of the interior of the big top on either side along with the ticket prices. As the spring of the year loomed on the horizon, my days became full of preparations for the season ahead but with my new liberty act there was still much to do. In true show business fashion, the season opening occurs before being completely ready.

March 25, 2025

Hugo, Oklahoma

The winter of 1973/74 found me in Hugo, Oklahoma as the understudy of Bob Grubb, who had a background of performing with circus liberty horses for many years. Now he was going to begin with my ambition of a liberty act of my own. Out of the original ponies purchased the year before, four matched up nicely. Once introduced to this group, Bob began to observe the minute distinctions that existed between them and comment about what he saw. He began to name them, handle them to find out about their temperament, and begin to visualize a logical sequence for them to assume.

He named “Buster” first, who had the most handsome conformation and attitude of the whole group. I named “Buttons,” who had the color of a new penny, after a favorite first grade teacher. “Tex” had a long back and Bob had a concern about his being juggy, whatever that meant. “Teddy” was a willing animal but seemed frail compared to the others.

Tie stalls were rigged for the comfort of the ponies in the ring barn at the fairgrounds, and my camper and trailer were parked nearby. Anticipating this project, Bob had his ring curb already installed in the central area of the barn and was eager to begin the training process. We quickly adopted a regular routine. After chores and breakfast every morning, training took place.

The result of Bob’s teachings and the universal attitude among the community of animal trainers around the circus is that the animals always come first. As I woke each morning, the first thing I did was go into the barn, grab a foot tub, fill it with water and offer each pony a drink. When they had their fill, it was time to feed. Nose bags received a scoop of feed each, a blend of oats and sweet feed. The ponies anxiously nickered and cavorted in anticipation, as I slipped the strap of each nose bag over their ears. The animated scene transformed as each pony became content to chew the sustenance that now hung conveniently under their lips.

Now I could retreat and fix myself something to eat. In the interest of efficiency, I developed a way to fix a Hearty Breakfast and only have to wash four items when complete. First, I would boil a potato in the coffeepot. When cooked, I would mash it in a frying pan and move it out to the edges. In the middle I put a few strips of bacon. A pot of coffee would then get prepared in the coffeepot and I would break two eggs on top of the mess in the frying pan. When the food was ready I would eat it right out of the pan. After my meal I only had to wash the coffeepot, one coffee cup, a fork and the frying pan. Then it was time to get the chores done before Bob arrived to begin training.

Bob arrived each morning with an agenda that was clear to him. As I watched, one at a time, Bob would gently coax each young pony into a sequence of actions at the end of a tether rope or lunge line. The pony was first encouraged to walk around the ring, out against the curb. Bob was constantly talking to them with a gentle demeanor that proved to be very effective. “Walk,” “git up,” “there now,” “whoa,” “come in line,” “good boy,” were all soon part of each ponies understanding and my verbal repertoire.

The whip was used to communicate with each animal as an extension of his arm and was only used gently as an aide to help push or suppress forward motion when needed. Introducing each animal to the whip involved letting them get acquainted by seeing, sniffing and getting touched all over with it. A variety of specific body gestures like pseudo semaphore signals accented with these extensions became a big part of communicating and asking for a variety of responses from each pony. Bob was careful to not scare the animal needlessly and was quick with a verbal reward or a lump of sugar when the youngster responded willingly to his cue. As the days went by, each pony began to grasp what Bob was teaching and the lunge line was discarded. Soon, two ponies were working together in the ring. Only three weeks into the process, the whole group of four was in the ring.

Repetition teaches. The sessions were at the same time each day, every day of the week except Sunday. The result of this consistency was a tremendous amount of progress in a short time. Also fortified with another form of reward was when they provided the correct response, we would often simply end the session. The behavior and understanding each equine accumulated soon proved his technique as being very effective. Those hours of observing the tedious training process were to prove valuable when it became my turn to do the training.

The most important concept for any liberty horse to grasp is something that is not seen when the audience watches them perform, and that is to stay in the ring. This is taught by; never allowing them to have the experience of being outside of the ring or, when they do jump over the curb and go out of the ring, make sure they have a negative experience while on the outside to cause them to desperately want to get back into the ring. Bob had a rope barrier elevated around the outside of the curb, at shoulder level to a pony, for them to run into if they did jump out of the ring. My job was to be the bad guy. During one point in the training, one of the ponies got the notion planted in his head that he was going to go somewhere else and would jump out over the ring curb at the same place in the routine every time we rehearsed. I was on the outside of the ring and with a whip in my hand. I would yell, chase and swish the whip in an effort to strike terror into the heart of this cute but misbehaving equine. The moment the pony jumped back in the ring, I stopped with the terrible animation and Bob was quick with an assuring word. He appreciated the fact that I was there and he didn’t have to be the bad guy. I was learning how these little guys would become predictable and how important it was to interrupt negative behavior before it became established.

Another important response to have firmly established with each animal is to halt whenever asked. This is especially important if the horse should become rattled, because from a halt, the trainer has a chance to personally connect, calm down and reassure the horse. I couldn’t believe it; here I was, in a dusty ring barn with aspirations of glamour and excitement, taking “Functional Relations 101” from an old cowboy, learning functional strategies that would prove to be helpful in many arenas later in life.

The circus ring is a special, highly regarded, almost holy place. In my role as drummer for the circus, I served in a capacity that complimented the other performer’s efforts. Now, as I assisted the training of my ponies from outside of the ring, I looked forward to the time that a rite of passage of sorts would occur placing me in the limelight for the first time. Not only would the duties as the trainer of the ponies be passed to me but also the transition of contributing to the show from the bandstand to graduating as a performer and working in this revered circus ring. I still recall the moment when the time came for Bob to have me join him in the center of the ring. At first I stayed behind him, as he demonstrated how to encourage them through their paces, allowing the ponies to get used to me. Then the time came for me to hold the whips while Bob instructed me, first from standing behind me in the center of the ring, and soon thereafter, from outside the ring. This was the beginning of a long, rigorous and rewarding experience.

As I look back, I realize the ponies were God sent, and an opportunity for this teenager to become functionally relational in the midst of being intensely emotional, perfectionistic and self-sufficient. Ponies don’t understand anger and erratic behavior. Very little representational communication means anything to them. Progress was only made with kindness. The ponies forced me to become functional, aware and consistent with my behavior. This must be the source of the term “having horse sense.” The animals learn through intentional repetition and functional consistency. For the sake of becoming a good horseman, I became proficient with my behavior around them, even though relationally with people, I still remained reluctant, isolated and often frustrated and angry. Over time, this role as a pony trainer became a segue that facilitated my connectedness to others.

March 13, 2025

The Bannerman

Advertising in any proximity that the locals gather is a strategy many businesses utilize. A sense of community dedication associated with civic groups is created with these gestures. Hand painted paper signs with the names and ads of these local merchants hanging in the big top is one way of making extra money around the traveling circus. Becoming the banner salesman on the Royal Bros Circus season of one day stands in 1973 was an enterprise that required my sister’s participation to fit into our routine. Our custom was already up early in the morning – Paula would wake me and crawl into the cab of the pickup to resume her sleep while I drove to the next town. When we arrived at the next town, I would jump out of the truck downtown with my steno pad and begin to visit the merchants in all the stores. Paula would then drive the pickup truck with camper pulling the trailer with the calliope and drums, to the edge of the show grounds where the big top was being set up. There she would recruit the canvas boss to drive the rig into position on the lot near the “back door” of the tent.

At the beginning of the season, John Frazier had given me a spiel to use and sent me downtown to do my best. I simply found the decision maker in each store and rattled off my memorized pitch, wrote down the particulars of each sign and announcement and collected eighteen dollars for each one. Downtown, my role took me in and out of each store and business, to give the spiel for buying a “banner ad” that would hang in the big top, and the accompanying announcement that would give merchants presence during the afternoon and evening presentation of the circus. I was learning presentation skills plus how to get around the employees in charge of intercepting disruptions and deflecting them. I learned to not disclose my purpose until I got around to talk to the boss.

As the circus banner salesman in a new town every morning, I had the opportunity to meet an endless stream of interesting people. In Perth, at a candy store, I entered an old time glass store front, going through a heavy wooden door that triggered a bell that rang each time it was opened.

After listening to my memorized spiel, the elderly woman who otherwise beamed in response to my presence responded with “I’m not going to buy one of your banners.”

After asking me about my role with the circus, I was then invited to listen as she told me about herself and sat down at the piano. Prior to World War I she had been a piano player for the silent films shown in the local theater. Emotion, drama, excitement, danger and elation were communicated through the flavor of the music created by a live piano player in these theatres. As she played, these examples of how music enhanced this genre of entertainment, my mind was transported to a time when this was state of the art. During the war, she became a bus driver for the war effort and when the war was over, “talkies” had arrived on the scene, so she had to pursue another vocation. This was just one of the many encounters with interesting people that imprinted my heart.

While I was in town selling banners, Paula had one duty during set up, and that was to take two pullies with long loops of rope and snap them into the lace lines of the big top while it was going up. This facilitated hanging the paper signs later, and was a duty that forced her out of her shell to interact with the crew during set up.

When I got back to the lot with all the orders, I had to scramble to get the rig backed into the tent and the drums set up, while Paula got busy painting signs on large pieces of white paper with a shoe polish applicator and getting them hung in the big top before the show.

Paula never did become an enthusiastic showman, partly due to her reclusive nature and partly because I had become a hot headed teenager that had never learned to be gracious as we attempted to get all these tasks done together on a daily basis. Perhaps I was following the example of our father’s strict perfectionist manner of wanting everything done just right, and that added to the already frustrating situation of her being in the turbulent outdoor entertainment business. All I could see was the “perfect” way it could have been done.

Our comfort was at the mercy of the weather and plagued with egoic whims, moods influenced by situation and selfish ambitions of others, which was more of what we had found on the playground of our youth, yet on a grander, rawer scale. The rigors of one day stands, relentless demands from me and the multitude of twists that occurred in this turbulent lifestyle began to wear on her. Something in my sister had been hurt. She could not show enthusiasm. She remained frustrated and became referred to as poor Paula amongst my trooper friends.

One morning after having a successful series of banner sales, I returned to the lot to begin with the process of setting up and getting ready for the show, but I could not find the rig on the lot anywhere. I asked the canvas boss if he knew anything, and he sent me to see the elephant man.

When I asked Dick, he said, “The rig is over there” and pointed north of the lot.

So I began to walk.

About a mile from the lot, I found my sister completely frustrated, sitting on the ground, with the truck stuck up to the axels in someone’s front yard. Apparently while driving the rig from where she dropped me off downtown and heading for the lot, she missed the entrance. Thinking she could just go around the block, Paula continued down the road and instead found that it went straight for miles with no place to turn around. Exasperated, she pulled up someone’s driveway and attempted to make a big loop in their front yard. But the lawn was soft, and the truck sank up to the axels.

When I got there, I was not the loving, supportive brother that she needed at that low point in her life. I became a hot head and screamed and yelled at her. I had to hike back to the lot and recruit the help of the elephant to pull the rig out of that situation. As I look back at my behavior of that day, I realize that my response did more to damage my sister, who already had the tendency to shut down and withdraw. This event caused her to retreat even further into the security of isolation. If I had it all to do over again, I would have become comforting, compassionate and lovingly explained to her that we all make mistakes. The damage of that event set the tone for the rest of our lives. My sister never saw an admirable trait in me from that point on. When I did see her years later, warmth and regard was gone.

Holding a grudge seems to be a sin of our father, who had his front teeth knocked out on a family water ski excursion by his brother (interestingly, who became a dentist). Making amends or entering the procedure of forgiveness, as taught by Jesus, was not exampled in our family in spite of our father being a minister. Resentment persisted becoming depression as part of our father’s experience.

After an otherwise busy and fun summer season across picturesque Ontario, we had much to relish and savor from this adventure but a contemptuous “not knowing” for both of us, forced self reliance to the front and we grew apart. My sister and I had survived a turbulent childhood exposed to the vast spectrum of behavior coming from others, to prefer a smaller circle of influence. At the end of that season on the circus in Canada, we trucked back to the Quad cities where, after dropping her off, she began her next semester of college. That was her only experience on a circus.

I headed east to pursue a fall tour on another show, a small circus with a five week tour through Michigan that performed in school gymnasiums. At the end of that turbulent year, I ventured to Indiana, gathered up the new crop of babies at the Palomino farm, picked up the harness commissioned at Shipshewana and headed for Michigan.

At Hayes farm, I unloaded the “wiener” babies and prepared to gather up the now grown “yearlings.” One colt had died.

Hayes told me the story of Lewis Bros Circus, a show owned locally that thrived during the thirties and forties that wintered east of Jackson on Fox Road. He had gone out there in the past to snoop around but the owner of the farm wasn’t keen about visitors. Fortunately the farm had changed hands again and Hayes made friends with the new owner. He saw the left over equipment that had sat for several decades but not before many of the rotting wagons had been burned.

Since he was friendly with the current owner of the farm, during one of my visits to Clarklake, he suggested that we drive up there and look around. In his green station wagon we went to Fox Road. Behind the large white home in a rural part of the county, a sunken driveway lead past a row of tall trees up to the back where two large barns stood. Inside the first one was a low ceiling and a labyrinth of aisles and stalls, obviously where the animals for the show lived during the winter.

The other barn was a massive, high ceiling structure with sheet metal on the floor where the elephant was housed. Up on the second floor, a large room was where the wardrobe, canvas repair and other preparations took place.

As Hayes and I explored the place we saw and inverted elephant tub being used as a coal hopper and recognized other pieces of equipment strewn around. The owner told us to take what we wanted. I found a complete set of liberty horse harness and an elephant bracelet.

Part of the challenge of living on the road involved an inability to collect things. My choice to keep something usually meant that another belonging would have to get discarded, but this find was too good to pass up.

After some additional artistic projects Hayes had accumulated for me to complete, I headed for Oklahoma with four yearlings to begin the creation of my new palomino liberty act. I was about to begin the experience that would positively imprint my life in many amazing ways.

This business I had selected in an effort to make an improvement came filled with extremes; from encouraging friends that would become a positive influence for my lifetime, to crooks with agendas that inflict selfish devastation. Instead of receiving wisdom from the lessons learned on the road, our response was more of what we had established as children. To seek on our own, to cherish self reliance and independence for surviving in this turbulent society. The ponies would teach me something vastly different.

February 26, 2025

Circus Paula

After three seasons of working hard, making money and accumulating additional skills, my parents became used to my being on a circus. They thought that a summer outdoors would be good for my sister Paula, who, as the only child left at home, had become a recluse. Between her freshman and sophomore years in college, rather than spend another summer at home in her room, our parents encouraged her to join me for a tour on the circus. Once again, we were to be a team, but this was a much more turbulent situation. With three years’ experience accomplishing tasks in a variety of extreme situations with catastrophe being a regular part of the scene, I had developed through it all the necessary drive to continue with a show must go on mentality. Hopefully I could be a good example to my sister.

I rendezvoused late spring after the disaster in Texas at our parent’s home (now in Kansas City) to implement this plan. After making many last-minute preparations, including outfitting the recently purchased cargo trailer with comforts for my sister, we scrambled from Kansas City across the Midwest to get to the opening town in Ontario.

Equipped with a calliope, we were to be the band on a big top upstart in Canada, a tour the perfect length to fill the summer until my sister went back to college. After driving all night, we arrived at the Port of Entry. The circus owner met us at the Canadian border to satisfy Customs, Immigration and arrange for us to enter the country. We then followed him to the venue. We arrived on a grassy lot at the edge of town to find a raggedy show, hastily assembled from various usable components and local resources. Although I had three seasons experience, upon sizing up this disheveled enterprise, I saw how it could work, but my sister was perhaps horrified.

The first few days we hastened to assume tasks on the tour already underway, and our cherry pie in the familiar custom of one day stands. Paula was thrown into this rigorous routine that I was already familiar with. We got up early every morning to drive to the next town, where everything with this tented city was set up again. Then give two shows, tear it down and load it each night. The big top was best described as a patchy sky in the air, held up by poles that were young trees only weeks ago. Seating was an antique variety of jacks and planks. Rigging, banners, ticket boxes, ring curb, platforms, props, trucks, lighting and curtains were all of the same pedigree. She observed my relentless zeal and joined in to contribute what she could. Soon as a team we were making contributions on several fronts of what the entertainment hungry patrons of rural Canada got to see. The summer of one day stands on this raggedy circus required lots of creativity.

My sister did step forward out of her shell. Prior to show time at the side show, I became David McDavid the Scottish highlander who plays the bagpipes and she became the Punch and Judy puppeteer. An old suitcase with some beat up puppets were meticulously brought back to enjoy a new life with her sewing repairs, wardrobe upgrades and some fresh paint to bring smiles and laughter to the children and the entire crowd in the side show. As the circus puppeteer, she created her own version of the traditional story line that accompanied the presentation. Then, after our acts were over, we raced back to the big top to get ready for the show.

The crowds were already filing into the tent by the time Paula and I returned from the side show to climb on the bandstand to prepare to play the music for the big show. The drums were set up on a platform in front of the calliope that enjoyed a prominent position at the side of the big top, next to the performer’s entrance. During the two shows we gave daily, she played the calliope, pounding out the peppy tunes learned during her adolescent piano lessons and experimented with personal favorites such as show tunes from “Fiddler on the roof” and “Cabaret.” I played the drums, enhancing her music with percussion effects and punctuating each performer’s efforts. In addition, I also announced the show. As each act shared their developed specialty and enthusiasm with the crowd, the tunes and effects created improved the appearance of their labors.

The circus was populated with four families that had lots of children and all of them performed in the show. The Michael family had toured with me on Fisher Bros Circus and became our haven among these families. Dennis and Lynnie radiated the same level of love and concern for their daughters towards us, and even included us on special family excursions. The Lang troupe proved to be the most fun both with their teeter board act that featured kids flying through the air to arms, shoulders and elevated chairs, and in the backyard during the regular cookouts. The Frazier family was made up of red-headed meanness, our token source of chaos and this carried through with the antics in their trampoline act. Bob Rayborn was our canvas boss and with his wife Virginia had two boys that also added to the relentless fun going on. My sister wasn’t inclined to want to make friends. Instead she maintained her pattern of reluctance around others as a reminder of what we had experienced as children.

I had found alcohol in the early years of being on the road away from home. Discovering relief from the awful taste of shame, humiliation and the feelings of being less than, after a few beers, I felt like I was able to fly, to rise up, and interact with others in a happy, confident manner and join in and be part of the group. Between and after the shows, there were campfires and bar-b-ques with lots of pot-luck to go around. The parents visited, many also enjoying the stout Canadian brew while the children played and we all got along famously. It was truly a fun season.

During the jump between towns, many times we drove through virgin wilderness. Seeing pristine lakes of crystal clear water proved to be too tempting for me to pass by. After stopping the rig, I dove into the clean water with my bar of soap to scrub up only to discover that the water had probably been completely frozen only months ago. Refreshed and invigorated, the trip would resume towards our next destination in this magical land.

The tour through Canada introduced us to a new flavor of society, vastly different from the United States. The British form of monarchy was evident in the characteristics of the language of the highways, merchants, businesses, and community infrastructure of government, police and firemen along with subtle architectural differences. By far the most spectacular feature of this land was the natural beauty. The way each community interacted with the terrain years ago to become the thriving pockets of humanity evidenced by distinct manners of co-existing with their surroundings.