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A Land of Extremes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The Liberty Act

  Normally, with a six-pony liberty act on a circus, handling getting in and out of the tent with its many backyard obstacles is facilitated with two assistants.  Usually, two people leading two ponies each, help the trainer with his two, and safely handle this task. True to my self-sufficient nature, I figured out how to never need any assistance from anyone helping handle my pony act.  I utilized the system of “come alongs” learned from Bob, which linked each pony to the preceding one. Using calm repetition, they learned to stay in a single file line and get through the many obstacles as I oversaw their effort.  During the introductory announcement by Corky the ringmaster of Royal Bros Circus, we made our way inside the big top, and then into the ring. I would then have them stand at the back of the ring, unhook the “come alongs,” and start the act with all of them truly “at liberty.” Our act began at once.Ponny Act 3 2     
 Gesturing “Lead off,” they would start to run around the ring. After several revolutions, the time came for a change of course or a complete reverse of direction for this single file line of yellow ponies within the ring. This involves my signal and a quick change of position in the ring, that blocked forward movement and encouraged them to come toward and then away from me. As the group threads their way around me, they run in this new direction for a while. After a few laps, I would have them reverse again and encourage them into being six abreast, or what is called the spoke of a wheel.  This involves the lead pony at the outside perimeter cantering very fast and the tail pony near the center, next to me, walking very slowly. After the six abreast, it was time to single them out once again, and at the back of the ring, bring them to a halt.       
Consistent behavior is what they understand best.  The structural language of gesture, maintaining a calm emotional condition and consistent body language is key to maintaining healthy communication with a horse.  With the repetition of two shows a day, they became comfortable responding correctly to my cues as I guided them. Among what I oversaw to insure harmony were influences of individual speed; slow one down or catch another one up. By far the most important movement to maintain is to have the ability for them to stop at the back of the ring and face me. All these responses are reinforced with consistent body language.       
I had been reading some new age main stream spiritual literature by Carlos Castaneda and as the result was inspired to utilize positive mental imagery to influence the outcome of each performance with the ponies. Each day while standing in the backyard waiting for my time to go in, I would close my eyes and visualize the entire routine occurring flawlessly in my mind.       
The first season touring with six ponies was not without challenges. Among the distractions around the Royal Bros Circus in Canada was when the sidewall was hoisted up on a hot day and the view of the spacious outdoors proved tempting to the filly, who became noted for jumping out of the ring. Since he had been trained to follow her, little Finley often joined her as she ran around the interior of the tent while the show as going on.  My being a perfectionist with esteem issues, taking the behavior of a pony personally – as evidence of failure – wanting to provide only a flawless performance, had set me up for an endless source of frustration.     
 When a pony made a mistake, due to the dynamic of behavior, typically the same mistake would occur at the same place in the routine the next time the act was on. Rehearsing between shows was only partly good. The stock soon became wise to the fact that without an audience, they would have to comply or do an extended rehearsal. They became what is known as “crowd wise,” that meant I had to become an effective trainer during our act in front of the audience. As a hot headed teenager with an inferiority complex, I took any aspect of what the ponies did personally. Fortunately, as the season progressed, so did the ponies.Ponny Act 2                 
The original three ponies, with a season under their girth, were a steadfast influence to the three green ponies. Jumper was a new pony third in line. Due to the unwavering nature of the two in front of him, he became steadfast and consistent. Tex was the cut back pony moved from position three in the line up to number four. Tex was ideal in this role. The cut back is where the last three ponies reverse direction while the first three maintain their counterclockwise momentum. His long back, stout physique and somewhat simple mind had learned concisely what he was to do when asked that also coalesced into a do or die attitude. Whenever I asked for the cut back he was quick to comply. Once he had the concept he was unstoppable. After the cut back I would single them out once again. After another revolution, at the back of the ring, I would bring them to a halt.       
While styling for applause in front of my standing group, the prop man would set the hurdle at the front of the ring.  I had fashioned this hurdle using two pair of hames. Hames are a two-piece structure used with pulling harness that goes over each side of the horse collar that has the trace straps attached. I had found two fancy metal pairs with brass knobs on the top. They were welded crisscrossed for the hurdle jacks, with an opening on the ends for a 2X4 suspended between, that provided the bar for them to jump. When the hurdle was in the ring I would tell the standing ponies to “lead off” and as before in single file, they would all begin to run around the ring and go up to the hurdle and jump over, all except the tail pony. Finley appeared to be mischievously avoiding the hurdle although he had been trained that way.  Another round and all the ponies would jump again… all except Finley, who by this time had captured the attention of the audience. My exaggerated gestures and feigned frustration at his defiance got a laugh.  Finally, the third time around, I am shaking my finger at him and he finally makes the jump and gets a big hand.  The fourth and final time the whole group goes over the hurdle and he gets away with avoiding it one last time to get a laugh. I line up and halt the group at the back of the ring, and then style, and take a bow.Ponny Liberty Act 2      
Next, one by one, I ask them to begin to walk and turn away from me and go toward the ring curb. One at a time they mount the curb with their front feet. By carefully placing one foot over the other, they proceed to travel the entire perimeter walking around the entire ring, two fore feet on the curb, both back feet on the ground.  Once they have traversed the entire circumference of the ring and are all poised at the back, still mounted on the curb, I take a style and get a big hand.
        I next gesture for them to come off the curb and they single out at a brisk pace in contrast to the recently completed slow portion of the routine. Once again they are running around the ring.  When conditions are right, I gesture for them to waltz, which is to turn 360° within their own length.  Each pony has a different vantage point to observe my cue from.  The lead pony is off my port side, the tail pony my starboard side and the rest are at various points in-between.  As I gesture, which is a step forward and backward with a sweeping signal of the whips, each pony has a different reference angle to observe this body language that means something to him. Simultaneously they all do a turn in their own length. After several successful waltzes, I allow the first five to continue circling around the ring as I call the tail pony, Finley to join me in the center of the ring.  He comes to me, and once at my side, I ask him to lay down, sit up and after the get up, ask him to bow.  Once these specialties of his are complete, he resumes his position at the end of the rest, still running around the ring.
       The conclusion of the act takes place as I halt the group at the back of the ring. Once they are all facing me, I ask for the rear.  This cue has me first, making sure that I have their attention, and then sharply moving toward them with the command “hup.” Simultaneously they stood up, straight as a candle, and then came back down to the ground.  I then turned toward the audience and ran to the front of the ring. The ponies were following right behind me, encouraged by a helper behind them. I leapt over the ring curb directly in front of the patrons in the front row and as I did, the ponies mounted the ring curb with their front feet.  This was the final salute, an opportunity for the final bow in the midst of thunderous applause. I took my bow. Then the time came for me to re-attach my “come alongs” between each of them. Once intact, I would hold the lead pony, encourage the rest to back off of the curb, and the lead them single file through the center of the ring towards the exit of the tent.
       A liberty act takes a couple of seasons of repetition before they work consistently. The summer of 1975 in Canada on the circus was the perfect place for this exposure and training to prepare me for my ambition of bigger and better circus opportunities in the future. That is, if nothing went wrong.
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Season 1975


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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.

all six 1

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.

all six 2

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.

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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.

BEVERLY 2

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.

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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.

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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.    

SMOKEY 5

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.

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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.

VOORHEIS 3

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.

VOOHEIS 2

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.

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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?

JIMMY SILVERLAKE

      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.”

elephant 1 2

      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. 

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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.

First Truck

       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?

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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.

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      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.