adventure – Letterfly Writes

September 18, 2026

Our Colorful Tradition : part 2

One day a young fellow came looking for a job. All the positions on the big top crew were filled, so they sent him over to me. John Elder became my groom and also helped with the setup of props in the interior, with particular emphasis on getting the ring curb exactly round for the sake of my pony act. He moved into the back of my rig and rode over land with me. With his help, the awning went up in the dark after we arrived at the next town. The procedure was identical each night.

After stopping, I would get out and pump up the Coleman lantern and soon have it lit. With this tremendous source of light, I could find the layout markings on the lot that indicated where the big top was going and from that indication, find my parking spot. The parking sequence for all the rigs was the same every day. By placing the lantern in a strategic spot, I would then move the rig into my parking position. Once I was stopped, Beth could then park her station wagon and travel trailer.

By opening the side doors on the Fruehauf trailer, I had access to the first items needed for set up. By driving a stake in the ground, sliding a pipe over it and placing inside a device with a hook on top, I had a stand for the Coleman lantern. The work area was then bathed in bright light.

John would climb up to the roof of the trailer as I unloaded and unrolled the bundle of canvas. After I tossed up a rope, he could pull the corner of the awning up and begin to fasten the first of many snaps to the eyes up top. Working his way down the top edge, soon the blue and yellow awning hung flat against the side of the trailer, while I drove the tent stakes into the ground.

With these procedures complete, the next step was to place the side poles into each location on the edge of the awning and tie the guy-lines to the stakes. Soon with the awning up, the poles straight and the ropes tight, we were able to begin unloading the rest of the features that would soon be the pony and horse stable. The steel steps in the central doorway were unloaded and placed into position, one in that doorway and the other, up to the living quarters door. Then we pulled the ramp out of its cradle and placed the heavy thing in the second doorway to facilitate the unloading of the animals.

A large tub made from half of a fifty-five-gallon drum was placed next to the central step. The valve on the hose coming from the barrels inside was opened to begin the filling this tub. After driving three more stakes, the short fence sections for the ponies were lashed to the side poles. By this time the ponies were nickering, due to knowing that soon they would be led down the ramp and invited to have a long drink of water.

The large fence sections that also served as a divider between the animals inside were unloaded and placed in a square shape at the other end of the awning to become a stall for Bingo. Then, one by one, starting with Finley, the ponies were released from their cross ties, led down the ramp and over to the now full water tub and invited to take a long drink. Then their lead rope was tied to the short fence section where they would spend the night.

As soon as the livestock was unloaded and tied in position, John went to bed. Forty-five minutes had elapsed since we arrived at the lot. My quiet time was now. I broke open a bale of hay, took my six-tine pitch fork, fluffed up each flake of hay and bedded them up to their bellies for the night. While all of them quietly munched, an inner peace filled me. Monitoring their condition as ideal, I then bid them adieu and walked next door to Beth’s trailer, which by this time was set up and ready for bed. Now was time for sleep.

Day in and day out, the show went up each morning. The sound of the stake driver was our alarm clock. In no time at all the big top was up in the air. The performers then placed everything in position. John soon established a trademark cat call as he walked into the big top each morning to begin his duties as prop handler as soon as the canvas was in the air. His loud “Ahhh Hahhh” echoed underneath the cavern of canvas to announce his presence.

In the midst of all this industry, the cookhouse soon had breakfast ready. Flags up meant find your way over to eat. This was the social center of the show. The workers had to eat and get back to work so they were given precedence at breakfast. The rest of us had a more relaxed morning as we attended to individual responsibilities and could visit with each other after eating.

All preparations were ready prior to show time. The popping corn and spinning candy floss was the only activity going on as the early crowds showed up. The pony ride, ticket wagon, concession and novelty stand did brisk business in the interim until the side show talker began his spiel to entice folks to see what was inside. When the front door opened the crowd filed into the tent to find their seats. After the whistle blew and the band started playing, we gave our best to the crowds that showed up in each new area of the country.

We had a short break in the afternoon. John had a guitar. During the pensive moments between shows in the backyard, while Beth and I enjoyed sitting in the pony tail lounge, John practiced playing several tunes.

I had enthusiasm for what I was doing. There is nothing better on a pretty day than a string of ponies out in the sunshine. I enjoy cleaning them up, harnessing them and showing them off. Due to the ponies being well seasoned and performing flawlessly in the ring, I could concentrate on being a star. Being ready was a big part of this role. Getting cleaned up for the show, dressing up in fancy wardrobe and stepping out in front of our audience was all part of what made this routine fun. I was in love with a wonderful woman who was equally engaged in this rigorous lifestyle and we enjoyed sharing our lives. All was utopia in this unique and magical realm of traditional touring canvas entertainment. I love this life. But in spite of all this positivity, I was the one who hadn’t put together all that was necessary to insure a long, successful and lucrative career.

Whitey Black was the manager of the show. I had met him with his previous wife on Carson and Barnes years ago. He was tough to read. He had puffy eyelids that did battle with gravity. He had offered me this deal that seemed adequate at the time but when I arrived in winter quarters, I discovered a huge surprise expense. After the long jump getting there, I discovered that the old Fruehauf needed tires. The show had the tire man come, paid for the tires I needed and began to deduct a portion from my pay each week, compromising the amount I was able to save. With this indicator, I realized my deal wasn’t very lucrative. I often wonder about a management ploy that strives to keep their staff in need instead of encouraging prosperity.

For the tremendous investment I had and for all that I was doing on the show this was not an adequate paying job. But this time it was the show that was plagued. The first indicator was when Henry Thompson showed up from Sells and Gray Circus and we learned that the sister show had closed. He arrived to run our side show for the rest of the season. For several weeks we enjoyed his presence until, also running out of route; the season for King Bros Circus was over at the end of the summer. I didn’t have enough money to get home.

I did have enough fuel to get to another circus. Thank goodness for the sign painting skills I had accumulated. They now proved valuable. I approached Jim Silverlake, who was the manager of Great American Circus, another impressive tenter. He had me decorate a big semi-trailer for a week.

Dick Kohlreiser was there performing with his monkey and pony act. Once Dick became familiar with my situation, he opted to give me his slot in the show. He could go back to Ohio and book some donkey basketball games. I will be forever grateful for this generous gesture that revealed his true nature. He later confided being inspired by me and set out to create a six-pony liberty act of his own.

With this turn of events, I was set for the rest of the season. Jimmy asked me how much pay I wanted, so I told him the amount I had been receiving on the King show. He increased the amount by better than half again as much without asking me, proving how I had been taken advantage of on that plagued circus.

Beth took her rig to winter quarters and then traveled to join me on the show. While performing my acts on this new show, Jimmy twisted his ankle and was unable to perform so he also had me work the elephant in the show. Beth became my elephant girl. We resumed our regular rhythm of life on the road, living in the Fruehauf and performing together for the rest of the season. We also received a promise from Jim for positions on the show for the following season.

At the end of the tour Beth headed for Texas and I took the rig back to Arkansas. There I turned the livestock loose on the Shiloh farm and resumed the nutritious and educational routine at the commune. I also helped my parents who had begun building their house. A seed for my next ambition had been planted that soon would get to grow

Once Beth completed a visit with her brother in Texas, she came to the Ozarks to take me with her to Florida for the winter. I sought an opportunity to learn more about the sign painting trade. My intention was to get such a job. After thanking everyone in that little town, especially my parents, I grabbed my kit and jumped into her station wagon and we went happily down the road to Florida.

May 28, 2026

Re-equipping Myself

I now had enough money saved to resume my performing career. First, I had to replace the needed rolling stock. I had a lead on an old Fruehauf moving van that was for sale. With this trailer I could load the six-pony liberty act and my Manege horse inside and hit the road. I would have to hurry to make the preparations needed in order to return in time to assume my job as an entertainer on the soon to open King Bros. Circus. I had plenty to do. So, I bid adieu to Billy, Edna and the others. They would be long gone and on the road with this freshly painted major circus by the time I returned to open with King Bros Circus.

As I maneuvered my beloved bus out through the entrance gates for the final time and headed north, reflection began in regard to making this career move. Soon the majestic oak trees with Spanish moss gently swaying from the boughs disappeared and tall pine trees hovering over bare red earth lined with needles flanked a highway that imitated a roller coaster as I traversed Alabama. I thought about my decision to leave home during high school and join the circus. Then the climb to the top in that industry was interrupted by mishap. An attempt to continue in a rudimentary position did not provide a place for my creativity to flourish. So, I turned my back on show business and made the decision to pursue an unknown. I began to paint signs

I found freedom and circumstance in this new trade that provided experiences and challenges all along the way. The artistic venture facilitated unstoppable growth as an endless stream of painted visual delights were created for the steady stream of customers that requested my work. I had found my future and I was encouraged, yet my role as a performer with horses was not yet over. Now was the time to resume this vocation and thanks to this trade, I had found the means to do so.

A long flat highway with regular heaves in the seams of the concrete roadbed made crossing southern Arkansas very rhythmic. I looked forward to going home. My dad would want to hear the stories about the adventures and would certainly display amazement at the level of skill I had developed.

As the trek entered the northwest corner of the state, the roads took on a very different look from any I had been on all summer. Long grades alongside sheer drop offs afforded breathtaking scenery. Hairpin turns and curvy roads took me up and down through the same spectacular Ozark countryside that impressed me a few years prior.

The excitement of last few miles of the trip imitated a building emotional crescendo. The ticker tape parade that New York threw for world class adventurer Charles Lindbergh seemed puny in comparison to the welcome I received from my Mom and Dad when I arrived where they were staying in Sulphur Springs.

My bus would now get some rest. I had a plan to acquire and outfit a moving van to carry the horse acts and hit the road once again. The VW with its collection of hand painted artwork, although now on the quest of collecting dust, would remain an art gallery and a testimony of the years adventure, waiting for the time I would return and once again resume another challenge of adventure, seek the promise of an unknown future and propel the magic bus and myself unstoppably forward.

February 6, 2026

Seeing the World

During the season of 1976, I began to have additional opportunities to study my surroundings. Unscheduled retreats to peruse picturesque places occurred while I waited for tire repairs. And later, when the structural features of my trailer began to break, welding repairs. The year unfolded to become a series of leap-frogs from show towns to repair places, and then back to the show. As the result, I am not of the contention that the best way to see the world is while traveling on a circus.

It is true that the entire troupe of a big top circus doing one-day stands is involved with canvassing a large area but while doing so, they remain involved in accomplishing repetitive tasks that often require being surrounded by the same environment each day. Sort of like the potato peeling navy man sailing the seven seas.

One jump across the vast grain belt area of Saskatchewan, I had a concern about my fuel and thought perhaps I could make it to the next community with a fuel stop. Wrong. As I coasted to a stop alongside the long straight road that sliced through vast grain fields that stretched toward both horizons, I had an opportunity to truly study this broad country.

Once the noise of the engine stopped, I was immersed in silence. The first thing I noticed as I scanned my situation was the feel of the gentle breeze massaging the pale jade young crop in the field. As I walked around the rig, I saw wild flowers hugging the only surface not commanded by farmer or highway.

The sky was large and had a mauve tone close to the horizon even though the sun was well up. Off in the distance I saw a miniscule motion that piqued my interest. As my attention zeroed in on this activity, I saw a large tractor pulling an even larger device designed to cultivate a huge swath as it passed over a section of land. While watching, I saw it go a tremendous distance and made a U-turn to travel parallel to the area just covered. I was then able to predict where the giant device would be going next.

I watched his long slow dance across the field and reviewed my options. I was inspired. I started a long walk, stepping over the rows of young plants and headed for the middle of the field where I predicted the farmer would pass. As the place where our paths would cross loomed closer, the driver saw me and when convenient for him, stopped that massive machine.

Double sets of high ridged tires stood higher than me. The driver had to exit the glassed-in cab and descend the steps that hung between the tires to get to where he could greet me. I told him about my predicament that seemed almost self-explanatory anyway and he laughed. He pointed towards the far end of the field where his pickup was parked. He would retrieve the gas can inside and fetch it to me on the return pass.

Standing in the field, I watched as the massive machine resumed its task of pulling an enormous device over, but not harming any plants, and considered my rig now off in the distance. A beautiful rig that now seemed tiny, dependent on my consistent maintenance. Yes, this was the way to see Canada.

On the return pass, my friendly host brought me a gas can with fuel inside that soon rocked my engine back to life. I drove forward to the lane where his farm truck waited and placed the can in the back. I was then able to continue my trip. From that intimate peek at this facet of a wonderful land, I resumed the juggernaut of activity that yielded entertainment for the people my rescuer probably knew.

July 16, 2025

Season 1975

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 25, 2025

Hugo, Oklahoma

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 1, 2024

No People Like Show People

It takes many people to move a circus. Years ago, labor was plentiful and cheap. This made possible the Golden Era of the giant railroad circuses to emerge. They transformed an empty grass field into a magical tented city each morning.

Melvin Silverlake promoted personnel from the tiny town of Medora, Indiana which was home of their winter quarters. Jack Brock, the canvas boss came from Medora. He had been recruited a few years earlier for the Clark & Walters Circus where he learned the ropes of handling the big top and was now going to be in charge of tents with Fisher Brothers Circus.

Jack’s mother owned a local tavern. That little tavern supplied many circus workers. One, a little man named Elmer enjoyed drinking White Port. He was recruited along with the rest of his family. Elmer’s posture was droopy and stooped over. He had a slouch hat covered in dirt. His coveralls were dirty and he sported a perpetual beard. His heavy mountain accent seemed to make every word he uttered undistinguishable. Guttural syllables flowed as communication between his role as an assistant to the canvas boss.

Elmer’s wife Janie had a steely face, wild wooly red hair, squinty eyes, few teeth and an appetite for chew tobacco. She helped BK in the cook house. Willie was their son age 12 who proved helpful with the side show. Their daughter Judy was age 8 and had a crooked arm as the result of being broken but never being set. Bunks for the entire family were at one end of a refurbished school bus.

Mike Gaska was an elderly performer from Mexico who had an offbeat manner that always connected with the audience. He dressed as a trampy clown wearing a minimum of makeup. His act consisted of seemingly struggling with juggling clubs and rolling hoops. He had a little dog that would sit up and steal the show. Later in the show Mike’s plate spinning act added sizzle to his silly. If the circus had a heartbeat, the steadfast rhythm that drove the lifeblood of the show would be Mike. He was always present, sometimes patiently waiting with a pipe clenched between his teeth as he watched the progress of the show while waiting for his turn to perform.

He had a visual way of communicating and radiating kindness. He always provided encouragement to others whenever needed. Having been around the Clark & Walters Circus, he was considered family to the Silverlakes. Mike lived in an Airstream trailer with several little dogs. During set up he pulled the electric cables, hoisted the light chandeliers in the tent and set up the midway lights as he maintained the light plant.

As the show ended each night, the crew began dismantling the seats and making room for the pole and seat trailer to move into the tent on the heels of the crowd. Virtually everything was loaded while the rig was under the tent with the exception of a few side poles and two center poles that were holding the tent up. Mike Gaska waited patiently to lower the lighting chandelier, thus allowing the workers the last remnants of the remaining light. When the pole truck moved out he lowered the lights. This created elongated shadows of the remaining workers and Dixie the elephant, who arrived to pull the remaining center poles out. Standing near the only raised portion of the edge of the tent, Mike was seen holding the lights in the opening as the elephant emerged rapidly, pulling out the two poles as the canvas mushroomed behind her. The air would whoosh out and the tent gently fall to the ground. As the crew began to untie the knots from the guy ropes on the stakes, they threw the ropes on the tent. Mike would walk with the lights and load them onto the generator trailer. Then he coiled up the cables.

Emma Duke was the wife of the circus agent and the mother of BK. Emma put on full clown makeup daily and dressed in big shoes, a funny wig and a colorful costume. At the beginning of the season her camper pulled the generator trailer. She often showed up in the performance and her colorful presence would fortify the premise of circus. She presented her gags and sometimes acted as part of a duo with Mike Gaska, to reinforce the funny clownish elements of the show.

The 1971 season of the Fisher Bros Circus began with me on drums and just an amplified record player. Every hand on the show was expected to be useful. During the show many people came and went to cue the record player. Whoever was my assistant was responsible for the song changes for each act and inevitably preceded each musical selection with an unnerving needle scrape across the grooves of the LP disc. This would follow with the scratchy music of the song playing to accompany the act.

One week, a man claiming to be a musician and a magician was hired. The amazing Marquis had a reed organ that looked like a suitcase on legs and a drinking problem to boot. When inebriated it became difficult to sync with his music. Changes supposed to accent segments of the acts became sloppy. One especially sloppy episode involved him falling off the bandstand in the middle of a song. When Melvin rushed over to help him get back on the bandstand. I yelled an indication of my frustration with, “leave him down there”

But when sober, George Marquis was an amazing hypnotist who could do his act with up to a dozen people from out of the audience. To this day I remain amazed at his antics. He made post hypnotic suggestions to each of the volunteers. He would suggest that the volunteers became hot, or were standing on an anthill, or viewing an inviting aqua colored swimming pool with no one watching. This would produce a variety of amazing and often comical behaviors. George only lasted a few weeks before his career on the show abruptly ended. Thank goodness, a professional traveling organist with her own pickup and Airstream trailer showed up on our lot and filled the position he left behind.

Marie Loter had a full Hammond B-3 organ with a Leslie speaker system mounted in the truck cap on the back of her pickup. She was set up for this kind of job as she came from a circus family and had relatives on many other traveling circuses. I helped her back this rig into the big top each day and set my drums up alongside. We were the band for the show and became good friends. Between shows her television would be on in her Airstream trailer with coffee percolating. Marie would tell stories of the adventures she had on other shows.

Harry Haag Jr. was cousin to the Silverlakes and was the last remnant of another circus family. His grandfather had a mighty show at the turn of the century until 1938. He had a huge old school bus with a horse trailer behind it. Once parked, his family tumbled out. With his wife Pat, they had three daughters; Cheryl, Kimberly, Ruby and one son named little Harry. In addition to the four kids were dogs of all sorts and one large pony. They were here to add to the show in any way they could.

Cheryl was a pre-teen with big feet, who soon had her single trapeze act in the show. The entire time Cheryl was in the air performing, Pat was seen standing in the back door looking up, while acting like the concerned mother. Kimberly had aspirations to be an animal trainer. With this goal in mind, she would often place one of the dogs on the roof of the horse trailer and entice the canine to jump down into her arms. Her dad was our mechanic who would take time to teach Kimberly how to lunge the pony and get him to do some basic liberty work. Ruby was small but seemed to always have a smile on her dirty little face. Little Harry was still in the crib that set alongside the bus.

Mister Clean best described Bob Walker who arrived on the show with his wife Sandy and their two boys. This muscular man helped Jack and Elmer with managing the big top. They lived in a travel trailer pulled behind their car. The healthy and optimistic attitude of this family raised the attitudes of everyone on the show. Sandy had a creative streak and expressed an interest in my decorative painting accomplishments

A few weeks into the season, a red and white school bus arrived on the lot to join us. Inside was a family of performers, mom, dad, and two daughters. The Michael family had an outstanding juggling routine. The girls did aerial acts. The parents did a comedy act called the Senzanys that was an addition to the show. As the drummer and announcer, I witnessed every accomplishment of every act.

Prior to the comedy act, Dennis was positioned as a stooge up in the seats appearing to be part of the audience. When Lynnie made her entrance as an overstuffed nurse clown entering the circus ring, Dennis began to laugh. In addition to being loud and boisterous, he acted drunk. As soon as this was established in the mind of the audience, he received a challenge from nurse Lynnie to come down into the ring to assist her. Dennis would then come down from the seats in a hilarious way and enter the ring that exaggerated his drunkenness. These antics were followed by classic examples of slapstick reminiscent of the days of vaudeville with some folksy circus clowning thrown in.

One morning while moving my drums into position near the big top, I had the opportunity to observe one of the girls interact with her mother.

“Mom, I had a dream last night about being on a bridge that went up into the sky and the wind was howling and blowing,” Mandy announced, “And the raging waves of the sea kept rising up trying to get me”

“Oh, that’s an interesting dream,” Lynnie, her mother, responded, “There must be some hidden meaning in such a scenario.”

“What’s a sce-na-ri-o?” she carefully plodded out this new word.

“Oh, you know, the story line,” she would add, “The sequence of all the events going on.”

“Oh, yeah,” Mandy agreed, “Probably my scen-a-rio means that a secret good fairy keeps watch over me and that is why there was a magical bridge to take me over the sea.” Mandy continued, “And there was this cat with a silver mane but he was a house cat, and when he blocked my path I told him to move out of the way”

While I overheard this interaction between mother and daughter, I waited for the inevitable reprimand, such as I would have received at my parent’s home for having such wild imaginative thoughts. But none ever came. Instead, her mother remained encouraging.

“That seemed to be a scary dream,” Lynnie offered, “I’m glad that you made it safely through”

“Oh mom,” Mandy replied, “You’re silly, it was just a dream.”

The big top was soon up and I began to erect my drum platform and move the components of my kit into place, thinking about what I had just witnessed.

The cookhouse was for telling stories, or in my case, listening to the sometimes-fascinating tales of life on the circus. The daily dining experience became a time of wonder with plenty of new families. The stories were referred to as jackpots. The tour progressed and occasionally traveling performers would stop by enroute to other destinations to visit and rest their animals.

Mike Gaska’s brother visited between his Shrine Circus dates that had him busy crisscrossing the country. While on the show, Mike’s brother Oscar volunteered to perform his balancing act that started with a one finger stand. This was the first time many of us saw this amazing feat.

Our guests were always invited to join us in the cookhouse where the jackpots were exchanged. Some of the old timers remembered the horse and wagon days and told tales of the ongoing rigors that were part of life on a mud show. During these conversations I gained much road wisdom.

This unique society has unwritten laws, closely guarded secrets and traditions that reflect highly regarded values. Ideas like “finish your act no matter what,” “the show must go on,” and “animals come first,” were foremost. The unifying response to the occasional calamity that was an inevitable part of this lifestyle was to stick together. Everyone would work in response to anything that threatened the momentum of the show.

I applied these observations to my personal life. This environment gave a reclusive teen, a place to shine and evolve past the issues that threatened to block the essence of my greatest gifts. As this quality entered my focus, clarity and courage began to reveal a bright future.

I had an opportunity to experiment with disclosing some of my thoughts to Lynnie that summer. She listened patiently to my ideas and, true to form, responded with encouragement. The result of this opening for personal disclosure was the beginning of developing my ability to reveal my innermost thoughts. I had an audience for secrets, dreams and creative ambitions. Lynnie became a close, cherished friend and confidant. She became a muse who appreciated everything creative and proved it with the life that she lived.

At the end of the summer, the Michael family left the show so the girls could start school. Melvin encouraged them to meet George and Lucille Cole and become marionette puppeteers in the Chicago area. I would see them on another show in a couple of years. In the meantime, I became a pen pal with Lynnie, who remained a source of encouragement and became instrumental in my life.

I found these special folks who made up the colorful spectrum of the circus like family. Each individual made their unique contribution to the traveling community, each with their vast and varied backgrounds. Their gifts rounded out the show. We all had aspirations for the future, a longing to become better at what we did. That seemed to be the common denominator for circus folks, to become greater as we went along.

December 8, 2021

John Herriott

As I headed south toward John’s ranch, I reviewed the plan for the year ahead; maintain rigorous practice with both animal acts prior to the circus festival, compete for the first time in front of the leaders of this industry, and when complete, spend the entire winter season of January, February and March at River Ranch, the luxury RV Resort. After the winter season, I resume practice with the animals to prepare for a five-week circus tour in Canada in the spring. When the tour was complete, return to Michigan where the horse and mule spend the summer on a farm while I paint for the Elliott Amusement company. I would also attend the Blue Bird rallies I had been invited to.

I drove day and night into progressively warmer weather. My thoughts reviewed the immense privilege of working with an admirable series of animal trainers; Bob Grubb, Evy Karoly, Vi Hopkins and Chuck Grant. Now, I get to work with one of the circus greats, John Herriott.

John was born into a traveling circus family, the son of Milt Herriott, an all-around animal trainer. Milt taught his son how to train and handle elephants, horses, camels, llamas, zebras, mules, ponies and other exotic critters. John’s specialty became multiple-horse liberty acts. The Herriott’s performed on both railroad and overland touring shows such as Cole Bros. Circus, Barnes and Caruthers Olympia Circus, the Circus World Museum, Hoxie Brothers Circus, Al G. Kelly and Miller Bros. Circus and a few more. The Herriott’s became renowned in circusdom. John became effective in the circus ring presenting liberty horse acts and elephants along with other exotic lead stock. His marriage to a tall blonde from Sharon, Pennsylvania produced four daughters.

Years ago, as a teenage drummer on my first big top show, I sat in the cookhouse tent and listened to the fantastic tales that abounded. I heard one story about a family on the Hoxie Bros. Circus. They produced a beautiful display for the show that included every member of the family on a horse. All six members of the Herriott family presented talented circus horses and their display filled all three rings. They wore exquisite wardrobe and performed in unison. The concept of a family that worked in harmony with each other was foreign to me because I came from a dysfunctional family. Although I never worked on the same show with the Herriott family, years later I became acquainted with all of them at an assortment of wintertime functions in Sarasota, where many circus folks live during the off season.

The long, slow trip south allowed plenty of time to review this fascinating livelihood I had found. I came from a contemporary urban culture. As an enthusiastic teenager, I found a completely different society on the circus. Rich with tradition, I was eager to learn and assimilate all I could. My curiosity, dedication and regard opened doors into this interesting way to live one’s life. Certain unwritten rules of the circus actually interfered with being completely accepted into their society. I would always be regarded as an outsider. Regardless, I became attracted to the specialties of the highest regarded of the performers; the riders of the high school horses.

Weary of the long drive and eager to get there, late at night, the last fifty miles took me through the foggy, ghost-like, dimly lit, palm tree-lined interstate highway that threaded past Tampa. The muggy weather was in contrast to the blustery winter weather experienced at the start of this trip. A glowing luminescence on the horizon hinted at the coming dawn as I moved closer to my destination. In the early morning light, my rig found its way down familiar two-lane roads.

Upon arrival at the Herriott home the livestock was unloaded after I pulled down their long driveway. The horse and mule were happy to get out of the trailer. They had stood inside for three days. They couldn’t contain their enthusiasm as I led them through a gate to enjoy freedom and the green grass of the pasture. They kicked up their heels and frolicked at first but soon found the distraction of nourishing green grass.

I arrived at John’s home the first of December. I had plenty of time to receive coaching and rehearse the acts prior to the circus festival.

One morning, the year before, Mary Ruth asked me to go on a trip with her to ride a horse. She was considering a big saddlebred as a gift for her husband. When we got to the farm and found him banging his foot against the stall door, I had some concerns about the horse. Although I rode the horse and did just fine, Mary Ruth didn’t ask me what I thought. She made the decision to get that horse. A year had passed.

By now, John had trained his big horse to do an admirable march and passage. Our daily routine became working and training our horses together. We both prepared for the International Circus Festival competition which would commence shortly after the holidays.

The result of our intense training would be that these animals would work well.

Standard procedure for living with circus animals is: the animals come first. First on the agenda, while they were out on pasture, was to rig up two tie-stalls underneath the lean-to on the outside of John’s barn. John took me to the building supply salvage yard. I bought three sheets of used plywood – gray from the weather – and three fence posts. At one end of the lean-to, in an assigned area, I planted the posts in the ground and secured the plywood between the barn wall and the posts. I now had two tie-stalls. Rings were also installed to hang water, feed buckets and hay bags. I parked the trailer in the lineup of other equipment, hooked up my water and lights, settled into my living quarters and got some rest. Later in the day, the livestock were introduced to their new stalls, fed, and bedded down.

The activities began on the Herriott ranch early every morning. John had an eight-horse liberty act in training, a big Clydesdale and a little pony that did a big and little act, Henry, the miniature donkey and the big saddlebred he named American Jubilee.

Soon, my daily routine harmonized with all the activity at the ranch. This let me maximize on the opportunity to learn as I watched all the training taking place. When my turn came to use the ring, I rehearsed my acts in the round pen, the same size as a circus ring. I choreographed my horses’ movements into a sequence that would become the routine I use at the circus festival. I also ran Betty the mule through her routine.

After the morning feed and muck-out detail and the training sessions were complete, we had fun. John and I both had a saddlebred horse to ride. We saddled up our handsome sorrels and rode them up and down the driveway. We asked our horses for various movements and gave them exercise in the warm Florida sunshine.

When it came to the march, his horse A. J. had an amazing reach I envied. We worked on achieving finesse with our cues and encouraged each other with our progress.

The routine with Betty the mule became a comedy act with me acting like an old prospector. This act was an expanded January act, a routine that appeared as if the animal was outsmarting the trainer with a liberty routine combined. I had been composing patter to support the premise of my mule appearing to defy all my requests. I kept having ideas for more comedy to include and in this environment with John, opportunities for additional inspiration were rich.

One day I asked John, “how would a guy go about putting a hind-leg walk on that little mule?”

John thought for a moment and replied, “I think I would check her down good and tight. Then slap her on the side of the neck and see what happens.”

When I did exactly as he suggested, my mule stood on her hindlegs as upright as a candlestick.

Now that Betty had the idea, I began to develop her hind-leg walk.

As John’s season loomed, he had an idea that would benefit me. He referred me to the idea of meeting Dorita Konyot, a local retired performer and horse trainer whose family brought Dressage to this country. He knew I would receive the advanced riding instruction I sought from her.

The weeks passed. Each day was productive. The bond between us grew. I was able to share tidbits accumulated from experiences with trainers in Michigan and John shared aspects he learned from his father. We enjoyed mutual improvement with our high school horses and our time together.

With each day, a heightened anticipation grew among his family members due to the upcoming holidays. His daughters, now mature circus performers, had husbands and kids of their own. They came from all over to visit to John and Mary Ruth. Soon his family activities included decor and treat preparation as the ladies transformed their home into a fantasyland of holiday happiness and joy.

My dad loved Christmas. Growing up in Ohio, I was familiar with the standard holiday tradition of colored lights on the house, a layer of white snow outside, carolers singing on the front doorstep, special cookies, hot chocolate and the excitement of Santa bringing gifts. The family Christmas morning of my youth was a magical time with plenty of gifts and excitement, now just a memory. In adulthood, Christmas became just another day. Here at the Herriott household I was about to experience a special holiday.