As a member of the circus audience in her hometown in northern Michigan, I caught her eye from the bandstand three years earlier. Beverly was a tall, longhaired beauty. After tear down that night, an evening of petting initiated our mutual interest in each other. We became pen pals, requiring her to be diligent about writing back to the address I always included of our future destination.
I experienced a sensation that I had never noticed before. The whole world seemed to glow as I went through my established routine. The tasks seemingly fell away, and my usual particular attention to detail seemed fortified with a joyous regard and enthusiastic zeal. The faces of the patrons seemed to have a glow all to themselves too. I just knew they could see it too. This sensation expanded throughout the summer ahead and seemed to lighten any load and fuel me with zeal for whatever was in front of me.
She had a summertime job working for a man with a tourist shop that made souvenirs out of Petoskey stone, a regional geologic phenomenon. Millions of years ago, ocean bottom corals were abundant in this area. Over time the precise pattern similar to a honey comb became imbedded in stone. Now these stones are abundant in this area of Michigan. To make souvenirs the stone is first sliced into thin pieces that reveal the precise pattern and polished. Then the thin sheets are carefully cut by hand into interesting shapes to be made into earrings, pendants and the like. The most popular shape is the outline of the state of Michigan. This is what Bev did. Sitting at the bench with a special saw, a variety of shapes were cut out of the stone and made into merchandise that was also on sale in the shop.
At the end of that season, I had several projects to tackle. I spent the winter at my parent’s home outside of Chicago and built my camper that would also house my drumming bandstand. I was most anxious to show off my handiwork to Beverly.
After the completion of my camper late winter, I drove up to see her and meet her family. Her father had built an A-frame home in a lovely setting in the woods outside Traverse City. I was introduced to music I hadn’t heard before; Seals & Crofts, Cat Stevens and Carol King, and their backwoods lifestyle. We enjoyed an evening of snowmobiling and togetherness prior to my heading south to a warmer climate. Our correspondence continued. As a result, she stayed abreast of my aspirations and adventures on the circus. Our communication covered a variety of interests and spanned our infrequent visits.
One benefit of the tented circus going broke earlier in the year and my hooking up with the Voorheis Circus was that I would be performing in her proximity twice more that year. I couldn’t wait for her to see these ponies. When the show played near her home, I anticipated her visit. I was so proud, standing in the truck, ankle deep in hay, with my beloved ponies. When she arrived, Beverly instantly fell in love with these cute yellow beings and spent the entire afternoon and evening with them, brushing, primping and pouring out affection and love. I saw something special in her that night that validated the warmth that had been growing inside me. I asked her to join me and come along. We could be a family. Her, Superdog, the ponies and myself.
We had a wonderful time together during that visit. The ponies performed flawlessly. She appreciated the level of ability we had achieved. Too soon, the time came for me to head out to the next town. For reasons I may never know, Beverly did not join me on that itinerate pursuit. Our letters continued, but began to wither as my travels and ambitions took me farther and farther away.
At the conclusion of that season, I headed to Clarklake, picked up the rest of the ponies and began the trip to Hugo. I was learning one of the first of several lessons about how this rigorous lifestyle is jealous of any other love. Being in love and not knowing what to do would be replaced with a clear career path. For now, my mind and all of my energy was occupied. I had a big dream and much to do. I became completely immersed in all that was in front of me.
After three seasons of working hard, making money and accumulating additional skills, my parents became used to my being on a circus. They thought that a summer outdoors would be good for my sister Paula, who, as the only child left at home, had become a recluse. Between her freshman and sophomore years in college, rather than spend another summer at home in her room, our parents encouraged her to join me for a tour on the circus. Once again, we were to be a team, but this was a much more turbulent situation. With three years’ experience accomplishing tasks in a variety of extreme situations with catastrophe being a regular part of the scene, I had developed through it all the necessary drive to continue with a show must go on mentality. Hopefully I could be a good example to my sister.
I rendezvoused late spring after the disaster in Texas at our parent’s home (now in Kansas City) to implement this plan. After making many last-minute preparations, including outfitting the recently purchased cargo trailer with comforts for my sister, we scrambled from Kansas City across the Midwest to get to the opening town in Ontario.
Equipped with a calliope, we were to be the band on a big top upstart in Canada, a tour the perfect length to fill the summer until my sister went back to college. After driving all night, we arrived at the Port of Entry. The circus owner met us at the Canadian border to satisfy Customs, Immigration and arrange for us to enter the country. We then followed him to the venue. We arrived on a grassy lot at the edge of town to find a raggedy show, hastily assembled from various usable components and local resources. Although I had three seasons experience, upon sizing up this disheveled enterprise, I saw how it could work, but my sister was perhaps horrified.
The first few days we hastened to assume tasks on the tour already underway, and our cherry pie in the familiar custom of one day stands. Paula was thrown into this rigorous routine that I was already familiar with. We got up early every morning to drive to the next town, where everything with this tented city was set up again. Then give two shows, tear it down and load it each night. The big top was best described as a patchy sky in the air, held up by poles that were young trees only weeks ago. Seating was an antique variety of jacks and planks. Rigging, banners, ticket boxes, ring curb, platforms, props, trucks, lighting and curtains were all of the same pedigree. She observed my relentless zeal and joined in to contribute what she could. Soon as a team we were making contributions on several fronts of what the entertainment hungry patrons of rural Canada got to see. The summer of one day stands on this raggedy circus required lots of creativity.
My sister did step forward out of her shell. Prior to show time at the side show, I became David McDavid the Scottish highlander who plays the bagpipes and she became the Punch and Judy puppeteer. An old suitcase with some beat up puppets were meticulously brought back to enjoy a new life with her sewing repairs, wardrobe upgrades and some fresh paint to bring smiles and laughter to the children and the entire crowd in the side show. As the circus puppeteer, she created her own version of the traditional story line that accompanied the presentation. Then, after our acts were over, we raced back to the big top to get ready for the show.
The crowds were already filing into the tent by the time Paula and I returned from the side show to climb on the bandstand to prepare to play the music for the big show. The drums were set up on a platform in front of the calliope that enjoyed a prominent position at the side of the big top, next to the performer’s entrance. During the two shows we gave daily, she played the calliope, pounding out the peppy tunes learned during her adolescent piano lessons and experimented with personal favorites such as show tunes from “Fiddler on the roof” and “Cabaret.” I played the drums, enhancing her music with percussion effects and punctuating each performer’s efforts. In addition, I also announced the show. As each act shared their developed specialty and enthusiasm with the crowd, the tunes and effects created improved the appearance of their labors.
The circus was populated with four families that had lots of children and all of them performed in the show. The Michael family had toured with me on Fisher Bros Circus and became our haven among these families. Dennis and Lynnie radiated the same level of love and concern for their daughters towards us, and even included us on special family excursions. The Lang troupe proved to be the most fun both with their teeter board act that featured kids flying through the air to arms, shoulders and elevated chairs, and in the backyard during the regular cookouts. The Frazier family was made up of red-headed meanness, our token source of chaos and this carried through with the antics in their trampoline act. Bob Rayborn was our canvas boss and with his wife Virginia had two boys that also added to the relentless fun going on. My sister wasn’t inclined to want to make friends. Instead she maintained her pattern of reluctance around others as a reminder of what we had experienced as children.
I had found alcohol in the early years of being on the road away from home. Discovering relief from the awful taste of shame, humiliation and the feelings of being less than, after a few beers, I felt like I was able to fly, to rise up, and interact with others in a happy, confident manner and join in and be part of the group. Between and after the shows, there were campfires and bar-b-ques with lots of pot-luck to go around. The parents visited, many also enjoying the stout Canadian brew while the children played and we all got along famously. It was truly a fun season.
During the jump between towns, many times we drove through virgin wilderness. Seeing pristine lakes of crystal clear water proved to be too tempting for me to pass by. After stopping the rig, I dove into the clean water with my bar of soap to scrub up only to discover that the water had probably been completely frozen only months ago. Refreshed and invigorated, the trip would resume towards our next destination in this magical land.
The tour through Canada introduced us to a new flavor of society, vastly different from the United States. The British form of monarchy was evident in the characteristics of the language of the highways, merchants, businesses, and community infrastructure of government, police and firemen along with subtle architectural differences. By far the most spectacular feature of this land was the natural beauty. The way each community interacted with the terrain years ago to become the thriving pockets of humanity evidenced by distinct manners of co-existing with their surroundings.
The Fisher Bros Circus side show during the second season of 1972 was earning a respectable amount of money, with its sheer size and ability to receive a large volume of people fast. The opening spiel by Melvin, the introduction of bally feature King Kong and the announcement that we were going to waive the adult ticket prices for a limited time and admit everyone for child’s admission turned everyone standing in the midway into a customer. Already wearing my change apron, once I had the baboon back in his cage, I returned to the ticket box to sell tickets for a quarter as fast as I could. Because I received a percentage of the till, I was motivated and making good money for an eighteen year old. Once the side show was full and I had the last quarter, I raced to the big top to put on my announcers hat, grab my sticks and prepare to start the performance.
We typically gave a 6 and an 8 o’clock show back to back, which meant with my duties around both shows, I was working continuously from before and during the big top shows, back to the midway between shows, and until tear down was over each night. At the end of the season, while I was putting the pieces into motion that would eventually become my liberty act, a calliope to put on the midway and painting the set of banners for the side show banner line, the show found a place to winter in south Texas at the quarters of Clara Stevens, a tough old widow show broad that had elephants in her past and plenty of circus in her story. In the proximity of the showmen of south Texas, Melvin began to have conversations with others, among them, those that wanted the side show. In my absence, I was unaware that dissention was growing for an ambitious teenager making big money that began to erode any future with Fisher Bros Circus for season three. After a busy winter of finding out what to do, procuring ponies, commissioning harness, a calliope, cargo trailer, fence building and even a stint at marionette puppet presentations, I finally made the jump to south Texas. Upon arrival in winter quarters, I received disappointment in regard to my third season with Fisher Bros Circus. They let me show up to paint the fleet but as the time arrived to open season three, I was told that I would be on Clark & Walters. This was my first lesson in manipulative show business procedure. The anticipation of implied “how it will be,” prior to arrival, and upon showing up, discovering the deal is different, I was to ascertain as a regular, disturbing part of this business. “Show up and it will be different” seems to be a prevalent motto. My side show banners never got painted. After the usual series of activities of getting everything ready for the road, and opening in a nearby town, I discovered a new experience in show business. This attempt at a circus season started with drumming, led to getting stranded in Texas, switching to another show, relying on my painting skills for a while, coming up with another strategy and jumping across the country to another show. The Silverlake family produced some talented individuals, not all of them had business prowess. During the years together as a family, the Clark & Walters Circus enjoyed success. Relational stresses over time caused family members to choose their own direction. Melvin was the first to leave and launch his own show and was fortunate to have his father in law booking the towns. Raymond Duke had a working knowledge of small town America, the place where he knew this small circus would thrive and the ability to make selections with short jumps between them. Melvin’s brother Jimmy left the family to launch Lewis Bros Circus with a partner that soon thereafter morphed into his own venture called Barnes and Daily Circus. This left only Franklin and Joe to help mom and dad run Clark and Walters. With only remnants of the family left, the Clark & Walters circus attempted the long jump into Texas for the winter but without any capable family members left at the helm, would die a slow death attempting to jump back out of that state in the spring (Texas in the spring is not as entertainment hungry as the fertile towns in the Midwest).
Franklin was the remaining family member who assumed being in charge of the show. Although quite talented, his consumption of hard liquor impaired sound business decisions. As the primary decision maker, as the show began playing the towns in Texas in the spring, the wind was always blowing and that seemed to be the excuse Franklin needed to not put up the big top. Instead he put up some seats and some sidewall and all the performers had to attempt to perform in the open in the wind. Buzz Barton came to visit the lot one day with some small tents to sell. I bought one and even had a conversation with him about playing the drums in a completely different venue; a traveling girl show. Buzz had married the gorgeous daughter of a carnival burlesque show producer and had framed his own show. Morphing from vaudeville entertainment, the girl show had been a traditional part of county fairs for years but was on the way out due to local night clubs in every urban area beginning to offer a glimpse of nude and near nude women. If I would have become his drummer, I would have experienced the last remnant of that facet of show biz. Day in and day out, the seats and the ring curb went up without a big top and the performers attempted to work in the wind. Aerial acts did not work at all. The show looked pathetic on the lot and the compromised performance was sad. Other dissention began to erode the attitudes of everyone on the show. Impaired judgment caused by alcohol consumption caused a wreck one morning between the elephant semi and the generator truck pulling a performers travel trailer. The huge semi ended up on its side smashing the other trailer underneath. The elephant was unhurt but the female performer’s belongings were scattered and smeared flat alongside the road. Apparently, the booking agent was just as incompetent as the canvas boss and the show ran out of route several weeks into the season. The experience was pathetic; the show limped along with holes in the route until it died its inevitable death on a muddy lot, halfway up the east coast of Texas. Stranded without a circus, I was to discover the real value of having developed my skills with paint and brushes. I found out that Daily Bros Circus was on the road nearby. After finding the show, I got a job painting on their fleet for a few weeks while I scouted out another situation for the season. They didn’t have a problem putting up their big top each day. Although Gopher enjoyed having my beautiful artwork on his show trucks, he didn’t need my talents in the performance. After the fleet was decorated, I drove my camper to the beautiful areas of east Texas – Aransas pass, Victoria and Roll-over pass – to enjoy some quiet time with my dog at the beach before gradually moving north. The Michael family had spent their previous summer on a circus in Ontario. Pleased, they were returning for another season. Lynnie got word to me that Royal Bros Circus needed a band. I had commissioned a cargo trailer in Elkhart to mount my new calliope in. In an effort to help me out, my dad went to get it with his station wagon and take it to his home in Kansas City, where they had moved the year before. They had a concern about my sister who had withdrawn into simply remaining in her room and thought that an adventure with the circus would do her good. The plan was to have her at the keyboard and me at the drums. We would become the band for Royal Bros Circus in Ontario. I was learning that switching shows mid stream and changing my strategy midstride was sometimes a necessary part of this business. On my way to Canada with the recently purchased calliope and my sister, I had the opportunity to stop enroute to see the baby ponies in the field at Hayes farm. The boss met us at the Port of Entry and after the immigration and Customs people were satisfied, we followed him to the lot.
The year was 1971. I was on the first season of the Fisher Bros Circus, a show I helped build. During the only free time between set up and two shows, I had been tipped off that a fan was on the lot and had some circus pictures to see. Most of the circus people had an attitude toward any fan wanting to see the show for free, but I usually joined them to share their enthusiasm. As I rounded the corner of the tent, I found a friendly, tall man standing behind a green station wagon
I was greeted with; “Do you want to see some circus pictures?”
Instantly captivated, I pored through the albums stacked on the open tailgate of the wagon. In awe, I peeked at the recent history of the big top shows that he had seen and photographed.
Alien names like Sells & Gray, Hoxie Bros. and Kelly-Miller came to life as I turned each page scrutinizing each carefully considered image. What was valuable was the content. The layout of the support vehicles in regards to their context to the big top and the unique manner in which each semi was racked for a specific task or load. Or the action of the stake driver and spool truck. There were pictures of livestock trailers in repose, the cook house shown as a social center and the action at the concession department. Also depicted was the light plant, and bunk house and performers handling the activities of their specialty. As I studied these images, my mind started working coming up with additional ideas and plans for my career.
“It rhymes with Spaniard,” interrupted my focus.
I looked up, completely absent from the conversation. I was totally engrossed with looking at an amazing collection of photos. I glimpsed a grinning face, partially shaded beneath a well-worn hat. Fidgeting with a long brown thin cigarette, Hayes produced a cackle of nervous laughter, the result of self-satisfaction with his joke.
Beaming, and wanting me to understand him, he repeated the well-worn rhetoric.
“Ganiard,” he double-clutched, “My name rhymes with Spaniard, Hayes Ganiard.”
As I pored over the many photographs this man had witnessed, I had questions. These photos opened up a whole new world. With each question about a detail in a photograph, my host did his best to explain what he knew about the picture. I had seen old photos in books before, but this collection of traveling truck circus photos shot personally by this man made it seem more real – like seeing the rings of Saturn through a telescope for the first time. As Hayes explained the various aspects noticed and captured masterfully in his photographs, together we discovered a common ground upon which to build a connection.
The images accommodated a friendship with this round, friendly and beaming Michigander. Hayes Ganiard was a friend to the circus, providing help to the showmen who traversed southern Michigan in any way he could. I learned that he booked dates for Al G Kelly & Miller Bros Circus, became fast friends with circus greats Stu Miller, Ted Lavelda and others. I learned later that Hayes even convalesced an injured camel on his farm one summer. That act of chivalry made Hayes a local celebrity.
Hayes came to visit Fisher Bros Circus several times that first summer while we were in Michigan. With each visit, I found more to admire in the heart and soul in this middle-aged farmer with flat feet. He told stories about situations he saw, personalities he had gotten to know and as an admirer of everything circus, he found his love for the circus.
Hayes Ganiard was born into the wealthy family of the founder of the Hayes Wheel Company, that later became Hayes Industries, Kelsey-Hayes, and finally; Hayes-Albion. Hayes had a boyhood friend named Jack Paar. They both enjoyed tending to the homing pigeon hutch on the top of Hayes large home in Jackson, Michigan. Raising the birds filled the boys time that otherwise did not have a chance to become idle. Together they swapped birds and wrote little messages to tie to their legs. The boys often rode on their bicycles to release the birds and raced home to retrieve them. These pigeons often flew long distances. Jack Paar went on to become the host of the Tonight Show preceding Johnny Carson. Every New Year’s Eve he made a phone call to his boyhood friend Hayes.
During the depression, Hayes was one of the only kids at school who had nice shoes. He was teased mercilessly promoting a distain for family wealth. Hayes was inspired one summer by the circus. While enjoying the summer with family in the Hamptons, his father took him to New York to see a gigantic tented circus. It moved by train and included an army of people, elephants and horses. He saw the monumental task of setting up the tented city each day to give two performances before being taken down and loaded back on the train. Experiencing the Ringling Bros Barnum & Bailey Circus was love at first sight. From that point forward, deep down inside, Hayes had a secret longing to go and belong to the circus.
When Hayes grandfather was ready to nurture him for a life in business, Hayes announced that he wanted to be a farmer. His grandfather then bought a thousand acres of farmland on Jefferson Road near Clark Lake and a large Jersey dairy herd imported directly from the Isle of Jersey as a wedding gift. The pattern of up before dawn for the milking routine seven days a week became firmly established. He had the top dairy herd in the state for five years standing. Hayes and his wife Virginia raised three girls.
Their home always had an orphan baby being nurtured. Either an injured bird or squirrel convalescing in the kitchen, or snakes, frogs, guinea pigs, rabbits, goats, raccoon and a weasel. There was an endless stream of mice caught in a humane, live trap. The joke was that Ginny was simply catching the same mouse over and over. This was something Hayes finally proved with a little red nail polish applied to the mouse.
When his career as farmer and father changed, Hayes had the time, energy and resources to pursue his secret love. He began to make a photographic record of the circus for posterity. He took pictures of quaint big tops, nicely painted semis, flashy but seductive costumes and exotic animal attractions. He also had anecdotes associated with each one and was ready to enlighten me, an enthusiastic seventeen-year-old. Hayes was a natural born storyteller who had the keys that opened the door to this fascinating world.
The circus would leave the proximity of my new friend in south central Michigan, but we stayed in touch. Hayes extended hospitality with an invitation to visit him at his home. A half a year later during the winter, I drove to Michigan. With a light covering of snow blanketing the territory the circus had covered, I found my way to Clarklake to visit my friend at his home.
His elegant white Greek revival home on Jefferson Road sat on a rise in the shade of large Oaks, Austrian pines and evergreens. The first time I stopped by, I was somewhat reluctant to park my camper where Hayes insisted, on the front lawn of his house. I entered the five-pane beveled glass wooden front door and went through the formal foyer, where the old grandfather clock from the C B Hayes estate seemed to greet me.
The home was warm and felt lived in with many antiques. The wallpaper and paintings on the walls reflected themes of fox hunting. The living room had a shiny broad plank wooden floor. The comfortable sofa became a warm refuge for me for a couple of nights. Over the large stone fireplace hung a Revolutionary War era rifle with a wooden ramrod and flint clamped into the hammer.
Also, prominent in the living room was Hayes father’s baby grand piano. The girls still had fond memories of when their grandfather came to visit and played for them. They remember their grandfathers carefully trimmed fingernails making a delicate sound whenever they came into contact with the ivory keys. While in close proximity, this nuanced sound added a special touch not available to most audiences. During my visits, Hayes daughter Julie often filled the home with lovely music as the result of her prowess at the Steinway.
My two-day stay revealed the world of a big-hearted storytelling, family man with broad interests. In addition to talking more about the circus, Hayes elaborated on the wheel making business that his family was involved in. The Hayes Wheel Company made breakthroughs from the time of the spoked handmade wheel that followed the wagon and carriage trade into the automobile era with a stamped one-piece steel wheel. Farming and many related specialties were a source of fascination and fodder for more tales. His one-eyed dog “Nipper” was cautiously alert and always by his side. He was the subject of several of his stories.
Hayes had three daughters, two of which were married and out of the house. He had a lovely wife, Ginny. Although she was less than enthusiastic about my stay at their home, Hayes made up for it to her with his enthusiasm that suggested a hidden longing for a son. A son interested in many of the same things he was passionate about. He approved of my ambitions.
Encouragement for my ideas was something I hadn’t received from my own father, who instead insisted and hoped upon an entirely different direction for my life. Hayes became a mentor. Listening to my ideas and becoming a conduit for many other connections, Hayes would broaden my world in Jackson County. I received encouragement from Hayes to become a better artist, animal lover and showman. He listened to my ideas and encouraged me to pursue these ambitions. Our friendship continues to this day.…
As a tyke holding my mother’s hand, while walking onto a grass lot, I saw my first canvas tents in the air with flags flying. I heard the tinny voice of the side show barker over a loudspeaker mix with the distant sounds of roaring lions, the exotic smell of elephants, cotton candy and popping popcorn.
While taking in this sensory overload, I heard my mother confide, “Your dad would love this.”
I was sold on the spot!
I was inspired by my dad’s love for many things. My dad loved railroad trains, photography, dirigibles, and the civil war. Later, I would hear about the circus of his youth. I savored the stories about the remarkable sights he witnessed during the summer when he was a boy. He woke before sunrise to gather with the other boys at the railroad tracks to wait for the circus train to arrive. When the distant headlight first appeared, its piercing light provided the first spike of excitement.
He told me about the early morning feast for their eyes as the circus train moved into position and started the unloading process of wagons, horses, trucks, elephants and special equipment from the flat and stock cars. This process took place with amazing fluency. He watched an incredible enterprise populated with hundreds of people, portable objects of wonder and animals of all kinds unload destined for the show grounds.
A beehive of activity resulted in a canvas city rising into the air before noon. An entire spectrum of preparations were completed by a predictable time. The two shows; a matinee and an evening show were given the same day. After the second show, the entire aggregation was taken down and reloaded on the train. When complete, a steam locomotive began to pull this amazing collection of everything wonderful out of town and into the dark toward its next destination.
Although not the big railroad circus, this version traveling on a fleet of trucks that came to our town was amazing none the less. After seeing this big top circus, I became keen about seeing it every year. When summer came, I began to look for circus posters in store windows and on telephone poles.
Imprinted with the same love my dad had for the circus, I began my pattern of getting up early to see the morning arrival of the Clyde Beatty-Cole Bros Circus, the large canvas big top truck show that made a regular visit to our fairgrounds.
As I grew, I became able to get a job helping set up the tents early on circus day. Then after seeing the show, like my dad before me, I was inspired with the idea of producing an even greater circus production in our backyard.
I created apparatus for my backyard circus and painted the decorative advertising that goes with such a production. I was shaped by new thought, old tradition, love and enthusiasm to find adventure with my creative outlet.
Each summer I produced a different revue. The usual circus performance was made up of children recruited to perform various acts – clowns, trapeze and acrobats. One year, I made cigar box guitars and a potato chip can drum set for a Beatles concert.
After receiving a chemistry set and becoming familiar with several sensational experiments, my best friend Arnold Vila helped me create a show called “Chemistry Magic.” Working with limited resources didn’t slow us down. One demonstration aptly called; purple smoke was produced by cooking iodine crystals over a Bunsen burner. Because we used the same beaker later in the show we had to cook off all the crystals until gone and the cloud of smoke produced almost asphyxiated our audience.
Even though I felt my shows were worth every bit of the dime I charged, my mother always served Kool-Aid and cookies to everyone who attended, so she knew they got their money’s worth.
A blend of these creative activities coalesced in all sorts of childhood endeavors that included display building and painting artwork on virtually everything that moved. After discovering my dad’s boyhood model circus wagon building efforts, I began building my miniature circus from scratch.
Letterfly Writes 