Letterfly Writes

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

Brownie Silverlake was a funny man. I knew him as an elderly dynamo with plenty to say about everything. The Silverlake family owned the circus. He was the clown of the circus by reputation and role. 

The traveling tented circus was a study in efficiency. The daily routine of erecting the large tents, seats, and rigging receive constant scrutiny. The result was work accomplished without wasted motion. The rookie had plenty of hardworking and experienced role models to learn from. The brightest rookies surpassed their peers with novel ways of effectiveness. Efficiency made the massive job possible daily as the tented city took shape in another town.  

The circus is a magical place made up of many common things. Worn wooden planks and poles tell the silent story about their career. The sepia canvas overhead gathered odd patterns formed by the countless encounters with man and mud, an amorphous testimony to the determination of the crew to move the show under all weather conditions.  

Geometrical patterns of rope and fabric combine to make up the big top tangible proof that sailmakers of yesteryear are still alive. A plethora of knots and rope used to secure countless components were the likes of which a macramé aficionado could appreciate. 

Include unusual displays of animal achievements. Alongside the stereotypical hucksterism and choreographed thrills that kept the audience in suspense. Enjoy hypnotic patterns made by jugglers, aerialists in colorful costumes and unexpected clown comedy surprises. Add to this eclectic mix the music of the circus.  All of this created a genuinely enlightening folk art entertainment. These simple elements combined to create a unique living and breathing art form known as the circus performance. 

Just as my father watched the circus come to town with his young friend, I began the same ritual of waiting until the circus came into my town. I got up early to see the tents go up. When old enough, I would volunteer to help with the work of setting-up the circus to earn a ticket to see the show.  

It may have been every boy’s dream to one day to run away and join the circus. Few ever did. They missed out on mustering the courage to follow an intuitive hunch. To me the idea was irresistible. I came to realize that this was perhaps the smartest thing I ever did. It took guts and determination to do what was deep in my heart in spite of popular general opinion and prejudice. Finally, here I am old enough to be on my own and with it. Immersed in the daily circus routine that my dad had only observed, I am living his dream. 

Many times during the performance Brownie appeared dressed as a clown. First he showed up with a llama who could jump a hurdle, do a front knee walk, lay down, sit up and then kneel to bow. The manner in which the llama performed these feats was something the audience loved.  

Later in the show Brownie appeared with a pony that would run around the ring and change directions on command. The little horse could walk the ring curb with his front feet, perform a waltz, then rear and bow, all for a tidbit of carrot as his reward.  

Later a herd of goats came in and stood in position on pedestals. The variety of goats included a very exotic looking one with long course hair that undulated as it moved, to those with mighty winding horns. Mixed in were the common farm goats filled the ranks with playful manner. This made them fun to watch. One by one the goats performed their rehearsed act with the agility for which they are known. Brownie led his charges through the routine of jumping through hoops, rolling a barrel, and balancing on a ball, while one of the other animals, acted as a comedian and seemed to purposefully botch up the clown’s tricks.  

The most unusual of Brownie’s furry performers appeared late in the show. The crowd always reacted with a unanimous gasp at the sight of Brownie and his male baboon. The baboon was comical as he proceeded to ride a bicycle or walk on his hands. Midway through the routine, Brownie would feign sitting down. Brownie would then pretend to light up a cigarette for a smoke break.  

As the audience carefully witnessed this somewhat out of character activity, suddenly a small green hand would reach up and grab the smoldering cigarette from out of his mouth. At this, Brownie would jump up in surprise to see the baboon with a lit cigarette in his mouth. As this primate was puffing away, he prompted a round of giggles and roars of laughter from the audience. 

The elephant act was incredible. After the pachyderm bowed, stood and sat up on the tub, the show ended. On the heels of the satisfied, exiting patrons, the tear down process began. The frenzied pace of work resumed and in about the same amount of time it took me to pack up the drums, the seats were loaded, sidewall was on the ground and removal of the poles holding up the tent had begun. I had to quickly pack up my drums and get out of the tent for fear that the canvas would come down on my head.  

Once the drums were loaded in the truck, I saw the canvas on the ground and an elephant had started pulling tent stakes. This was a rhythmic dance for the pachyderm, going three steps forward with her head going down while the handler wrapped the chain hanging from the elephant’s neck around the stake. On command, her head went up and a fore foot kicked the chain. In that one swift movement another stake was dislodged.  

I also saw the canvas boss shout orders in an attempt to give order to the assembly of workers now walking on top of the canvas. He ordered them into one long row pulling together on the edge of the tent. As I watched, they folded it up. These activities had been a source of fascination for me since I was a kid.  

Now as if waking in a dream, in the midst of it all, while scanning the darkness I saw a friendly figure with a bucket. It was Brownie making sure his goat co-stars and the other animals including the ride ponies were well fed, watered and bedded down for the night.  

In just forty-five minutes the circus show had ended and all of the equipment was loaded. A little bit of camaraderie took place at the cookhouse, but the pre-dawn wakeup call came early. One-by-one we found our bunks to get some sleep. 

On awakening I saw the dark sky had begun to turn red. Some of the truck engines warmed up and the drivers drank their coffee and made last-minute preparations. The big top and its crew headed out to be the first to perform their important task. 

Brownie enlisted help in the morning to load the livestock, picket line and leave the manure in a pile. The animal trucks were the last of the show equipment to leave the lot. The performers with their private trailers had the luxury of getting additional sleep before heading out. One-by-one the tail-lights of the show trucks disappeared in the darkness as they left the lot and rounded the first corner. I rode shotgun in the cab of the elephant truck, anxious for the adventure this new day would bring.    

Later that morning the trek to the next town was complete. The trucks were in their assigned parking spots and the fast pace of work had begun. In contrast to this frenzied routine was the old man, the patriarch of the family that owned the show. The concise manner in which he assumed his first task – to unload the animals – was at a calm pace.  

Brownie walked through the wet grass with two metal stakes and a sledge hammer. The site for the picket line, the device used to secure livestock in green grass was carefully selected. Optimum nourishment for the livestock was his priority. Once the stakes were driven, a thick rope was stretched between them and secured with a half-hitch at either end. Next the ramp was unloaded with the help of another worker and the animals were unloaded.  

Brownie took good care of the animals, after all they were his property. He made sure that they were carefully guided down the ramp and properly secured in wholesome locations. He also found time for an enthusiastic and interested young rookie who zeroed in on this circus personality. At his core, Brownie was a genuine and kind man with a serene demeanor.           

Remarkable stories flowed at the cookhouse table long after our daily meals were over. The stories continued as I tagged along with him to tend to his menagerie. I became a willing volunteer to help with many tasks. While helping Brownie care for the animals, I received the same kindness and encouragement he provided the livestock he loved like his own family. 

I received instructions on how to properly care for the animals and to water them. First carefully place the bucket of water inside the radius of the rope that secured the animal to the picket line. Let the bail of the bucket fall away from the animal so that it does not accidentally get stuck on the snap on the halter secured to the animal’s head. Then allow him to take a drink. Just as predicted, the ponies would put their nose in the water and take a good long draw. Then, as I watched, the pony would raise his head and look around for a few moments to think about something, then go back to the bucket and take another long drink. 

“Boys who are in a hurry when they are watering often miss this,” he would explain while pointing out this tendency for the pony to pause, “and the animal doesn’t get all they want to drink.” 

Under his tutelage, I learned to not to be in a hurry when I water the ponies. 

Brownie was a gentle man and the animals sensed this and appeared to trust him. Patience came to Brownie naturally from the accumulated years spent on the road performing, training and accomplishing tasks with a variety of animals. He was born on a traveling show that used teams of baggage horses to move the wagons overland. The elephants were sometimes literally walked to the next town. He gained and was in possession of a rare wisdom as a result.  The age long ago provided him a quality of horse sense that I imagine was universal in an earlier time. 

I benefitted from his animal philosophy and the curious aspects that no longer exist in our culture. While part of this circus family, I became efficient, learned how to travel light, and developed a kind heart toward all animals. I became, to others, what his example was to me. The most valuable gift you can give another person is to be a source of kindness and fun.             

Living my dream was only part of why I was here on the circus. A year prior I realized I was not happy at home. I was tired of over-reactive parents and the constant battling among my siblings. I sought to make an improvement and the circus had my attention. My father sensing this struck a bargain with me. He would cooperate with getting me and my drums to the show if I would promise to return to get my last year of school complete. I agreed to this. 

  While on the road, I inquired among the showmen about the skills I could acquire back at school that would be considered handy around the circus. I was encouraged to learn welding. Needing only two more credits to graduate upon my return, I took music and art classes and was awarded an independent study pass that allowed complete freedom to come and go as I pleased. 

I spent a lot of time at the library reading about the circus. At night school, I attended a welding class with a bunch of roughnecks honing their skills and seeking the certification required for this trade. I later found out that my dad would frequently visit my counselor, begging him to talk me out of becoming a circus man – what he considered to be a hair-brained scheme. My counselor looked at my dad in disbelief.  

He said, “all day long I deal with kids that are about to graduate who don’t know what they want to do. This kid is on fire! He knows what he wants to do … Leave him alone.”   

I was able to graduate in January before my seventeenth birthday. As soon as I was able, I left to return to the circus. 

The circus is not on the road during the winter. This is when building, painting and maintenance take place. I was welcomed as a budding artist, enthusiastic about the creation of circus art. I began to ply my trade in winter quarters on the show fleet.   

When I arrived at the circus winter quarters, I was eager to resume the routine of helping Brownie take care of the animals. My days filled with painting festive designs and lettering of all sorts on the circus fleet but every evening before supper, I tagged along with Brownie among the labyrinth of warm and smelly stalls, paddocks and the wooden housing in the barn filled with livestock. The routine was the same. Amidst the sounds of the critters communicating their anxious cries of feed me noises, Brownie carried a bucket and scoop to the feed barrel to fill it and then to visit each stall. Once the animals all had a mouthful of feed, the barn became remarkably quiet again, aside from the subtle crunching and chewing noise. Then he went to where the summer hay was stored to get a square bale to feed the animals. 

One of my favorite memories occurred in this special place. Brownie would cut the twine on a bale and pull the strings out from around the hay in order to prepare to distribute the flakes to the animals as soon as they finished their grain. In this moment, he would pause. He never missed an opportunity to perform. I wondered if he came up with these funny bits to pass the time while he was alone simply to entertain himself.  

Standing there with the bale twines hanging from his hand he would glance around, looking for a place to put them. This gesture was silly, because for the last umpteen years every piece of twine was discarded over the same wooden fence rail in the corner of the walkway. This was obvious by the massive pile of twine reminiscent of a snowdrift. When Brownie would see this, he’d perk up and seem to decide for the first time that this is where the twine would go. Satisfied with his decision, he placed the twine on top of the pile and brush his hands together to emphasize that they were empty. Then he would pause again with another gesture equally calculated and twice as entertaining to contemplate the growing mountain of twine.   

As if inspired, he would perk up and lean towards me to confide, “Someday, I’m going to think of something to make with all of that.”