books – Letterfly Writes

April 7, 2026

Circus Winter Quarters

While driving south through Georgia, I noticed palm trees dotting the landscape as we neared the sunshine state. The terrain had a unique look. In spite of the frequency of rain, the green of the foliage had a faded look the result of relentless sunshine. The highway billboards became frequent. Ads attempted to lure the viewer with promises of mermaids, sunshiny beaches and water wonderlands along with sophisticated destinations for golf, amusements and sunbathing. My favorite billboard ads were for the Coppertone products. A reclining bikini clad beauty provided the focal point and was very effective at capturing attention and prompting my imagination.

My destination was Deland to respond to the request to decorate the entire fleet of the Clyde Beatty-Cole Brothers Circus while they were in winter quarters. I studied a map and found a route that went through a great forest. Florida wilderness is unlike other places. A unique charm exists as palmetto thickets in the midst of tall pine and oak trees thrive to provide a home for wildlife. Graceful birds and fleet footed lizards in abundance gave animation to the serene tropical forest.

As the trip progressed, directional arrows for the fleet started to appear on the posts of the roadside signs. I then realized my destination would be very easy to find. I would simply follow the arrows.

As I neared Deland, the arrows led me to an interesting show business mecca. Outside of town, near the railroad station were the old fairgrounds that now served as the winter quarters for the three circuses owned and operated by the Acme Circus Corporation.

Arriving at this location brought my experience with this show full circle. The annual visit of the Clyde Beatty Cole Bros. Circus during my childhood was like a holiday/festival/adventure all rolled into one. As I neared this special place, I spied the tall chain link fence that surrounded the place. I went through the gates in front. Palm trees lined the roads inside. Bright yet well-worn circus trucks were parked haphazardly, as if abandoned in a hurry. Only a few people stirred, and none were in any special hurry.

Superdog was anxious to get outside. The sight of the fleet meant he was at home. His life on a show was the only life he knew. As we rounded the driveway and maneuvered towards the travel trailer parking area, he became noticeably animated. Barely coming to a stop, the moment I opened the door, a white fluffy blur shot over my lap and went out the door.

His self-appointed job was to check out each new neighborhood. If you could take the course he took on these jaunts and straighten it out, the length would easily reach from here to the moon. Superdog had wisdom learned from being on many different shows for every year of his life. Now he carefully assessed the layout of this place, frequently looking back for me while determining his options. This dog was the perfect match for someone with an appetite for adventure.

Superdog was the only pup in his litter not currently in a dog act. All of his sisters earned their living sitting on pedestals and jumping through hoops. And his sister Fluffy even jumped off the high ladder into the arms of her trainer. Superdog was born to blaze a trail, seek distant horizons and make friends all along the way. His smiling face caused most people to melt. Many times, as I searched, wondering where he was, I would find him smiling in the midst of a group of girls petting and adoring him.

I would exclaim “there you are,” but inside I was secretly saying, “I’m proud of you.”

Here in the circus winter quarters he was in his element. He checked out the row of travel trailers ignoring the harmless yapping dogs. He appealed to the animal lovers that attracted him. Relentlessly he inspected this new home and disappeared around the corner of a barn on his quest to become familiar with every aspect of his new surroundings.

This was a mysterious place that the circus-loving public didn’t see. Gone were the musicians, performers, the sparkling costumes and the hoopla. No flags were waving or lights flashing. Other than the exotic smells of the animals, nothing was much out of the ordinary here.

I found my friend Billy Griffin, who had his travel trailer parked in one section of the vast compound. After checking in with him, I set out on foot to explore the grounds. Billy was a retired clown who now sold tickets in the office. He had a perpetual seven-ounce bottle of Coca Cola in his hand and had been around the circus since he was old enough to join as a teen. We met on the Fisher Bros. circus just a few years prior.

Large silver barns stood empty except for the piles of seat boards that appeared hastily unloaded from the nearby trailers. Now they accumulated the inevitable layer of dust, illuminated by long narrow bands of sunlight coming from overhead. Bundles of canvas were piled atop the stacks as if the elevation would offer some protection. A group of red trailers wait outside, each with its specialized task aboard yet dormant for a time. The splash of color emblazoned on the sides of each one in this setting seemed to stir little excitement.

The lions and tigers are gone, away at a compound in another county but the elephants were here evidenced by the activity going on in a large area at the very back. What was once the fairgrounds grandstand is now a stair stepped roofed barn that housed the pachyderms, all chained in a row. The picket line was not unlike when on the road, except here the chains are secured in the concrete of the floor. This is the only place where a full crew remained. The task of feeding, exercising and picking up after the bulls took place year-round and the nearby steaming mountain of manure was testimony to the magnitude of by-product these animals produce.

With throngs of people absent from this collection of brightly painted apparatus, a different kind of energy dominated the scene. I entered the main barn where a lone workman stood at his bench in the dim light of a solitary bulb. A jig had been made on the workbench to receive three grandstand chairs at a time. This facilitated the ongoing, much-needed repair of hundreds of seats during the winter months. Chairs stacked high dwarfed him as, one-at-a-time, he replaced damaged and worn chair legs, seat boards, and in some cases discarded the trusty folding flat, wooden seat that had easily seen enough loading and unloading for one lifetime. Three of these chairs were attached together with a strap of flat steel top and bottom. All this activity requiring drilling and bolting in addition to simple wood crafting. This lone workman had a pace that would, like the tortoise, get him to the finish line by the time the circus opened in the spring.

Among the plethora of interesting items stored in that vast hall was a Cinderella float. A pumpkin shaped carriage that had obviously occupied this corner for a long time judging by the thick coat of dust that all but obliterated the faded orange paint. Occasionally a scruffy workman, one of many society outcasts, filed into this great barn filled with interesting artifacts to urinate in the corner.

The big top pole trailer with the all-important center poles, quarter poles, side poles and a spare bale-ring occupied the center of this barn. Sacks of rigging and bundles of canvas were aloft in an area designated as a safe from critters and moisture, the two deadly enemies of canvas during storage.

A forgotten trapeze hung from high in the rafters; a silent testimony to one genre of this entertainment’s many art forms. Ticket boxes and trunks of all sorts were stacked nearby. The worn concrete floor had large areas of dried paint with footprints that lead away, evidence of an industry that had taken place long ago in this now fallow environment.

As I emerged through a doorway on the other side, the relentless sunshine bombarded the willing palm trees that separated us from the quaint brick railroad station. As I turned to make my way towards a large grassy field, my route caught up to Superdog. As he zigzagged a path ahead, he looked up to acknowledge me. With a slight hop in his step, he continued to blaze ahead.

As I crossed the field, I recalled that this as where they put the big top up in the spring. My mind began to wander. I pondered generations of circus history that had taken place on these grounds. I perused the preparations that took place decades ago, prior to the time I saw the show as a child and paused to appreciate the multitude of tasks that all blended into the finished product to provide pleasure and entertainment to throngs of people. As I stood alone filled with the wonder of it all, the sun warmed my face. The love of my furry companion warmed my heart. There is no activity taking place here today. It will be a couple of months before these semi-trailers began the annual process of receiving a fresh coat of red paint to get ready for the new season when my services as a sign painter were needed.

March 13, 2026March 6, 2026

Circus Vargas

During the wonderful drive climbing the mountainous regions of east central Tennessee, I found many scenic overlooks. These afforded a place to pause, enjoy the vibrant autumn colors and reflect. I also noticed along the way, cardboard arrows to guide the path of a fleet of show trucks. I took a detour to follow the arrows to wherever they led. At the end of my effort, I found a grand tented circus such as I had never seen before.

Circus Vargas was from California and the grassy showgrounds was adjacent to a shopping plaza. The colorful fleet and the flags flying in the breeze atop the large canvas big top was an impressive sight to behold. I didn’t know any of the performers or workers on this show but it didn’t take long to make some contacts.

Thanks to my VW bus being decorated with sign work of all sorts and my habit of parking in a location with maximum visibility, the circus management soon noticed and responded by commissioning a sign. The project would take a few days to complete. I had to find a board and begin with several coats of paint. When the board was dry and ready, I began to letter the copy. The show would be in a different town by the time the sign was complete so I was given a route card. I would deliver the sign in Knoxville where they would play and give two shows the following week.

I found a board at a local lumberyard and had it cut to the proper size. I sanded the edges and began the process of painting front and back with several coats of white enamel to insure a long life. The colors selected for the copy were blue and red and when the board was dry, I was ready to lay out the letters.

A lettering man starts to draw the entire layout with a Stabilo or water-soluble crayon. Having carefully-formed guides for the letters helps prior to the tricky technique of using the brush loaded with paint to depict each letter.

Having an intimate knowledge of letterform is a big part of what it takes to be a lettering artist. Each character is individual and has unique features that must remain intact in order for each character to be recognized. Time-honored rules provide the foundation for re-creating these old lettering styles. Beyond a respect for what remains constant, the variety of possibilities for letterforms is endless.

I became fascinated with this art form partly because it is so vast. That and constant demand for lettering skills exist virtually everywhere.

Creating these forms with enamel paint and a special lettering brush is tricky. First, the paint must be thinned to the proper consistency, with the outside temperature and humidity playing a factor, to achieve proper viscosity. Then, loading the brush with paint requires a special technique. First, the brush is dipped to the hilt to get paint around every hair and after the excess is wiped off on the inside rim of the can, the brush must be palleted, or wiped back and forth on a flat surface to insure even distribution of paint. With the brush fully charged the lettering can begin. It is best not to wait too long because the paint in the brush is liquid and gravity is constantly playing a role. If you wait without doing anything, you run the risk of getting a big drip of paint on your shoe.

Once the brush touches the surface, the same rule applies. The motion of moving the brush across the surface unloads the paint in the area where contact is made using a gradual twist of the brush while lifting away from the surface, allowing one corner to make a sharp point. Round shapes are facilitated by dragging the loaded brush in an arc. Care must be taken not to double-stroke these areas with two layers of paint because the buildup can sag later when the next half dozen letters are complete.

Another discipline that made me efficient as a lettering man was to stop looking at what I had accomplished while I painted and only look where I was going. Adopting this technique increased efficiency and promoted faith in what was going on. Trust the process. Sure, I could glance at what was complete to make sure it was acceptable but my attention must remain focused on where I was going at all times.

Once all the red letters were intact, the time arrived to add some interest to the sign. A shadow is an effect that adds impact. Each letter appears to be an inch thick, standing off the surface. This is accomplished by visualizing where a shadow would fall. I would visualize a light source as coming from above right that would cast a shadow on the area below and left of each letter. By using the brush again to create these shapes I added interest to the sign.

The finishing touch is the border. I secured a pinline wheel device for such a purpose and was pleased with consistent results every time I used it. Once everything on the sign was completely dry, I wiped off the stray crayon lines and had it ready for delivery. Although completely satisfied with the results, I was also aware that my accumulating additional knowledge of letterform would be beneficial.

Soon the beautiful sign was lying on my bunk in the back of the bus. With Superdog smiling in the passenger seat, we headed south through a great valley in the middle of the state of Tennessee. The project was complete in plenty of time to rendezvous with Circus Vargas in Knoxville. All went well on this perfect, sunny day and I was filled with the joy of accomplishment. A comfortable breeze competed with the view of fertile pastureland that stretched out to the foothills of the mountains beyond. Ram Jam played an up-beat rock and roll tune on the eight-track player as Superdog and I motored toward the next town and the circus. I was smug as the accomplishment was sure to impress my customers on the circus and hopefully lead to more work.

March 12, 2026March 6, 2026

The Adventure of a Lifetime

Watching the trees turn color, starting from northern Michigan and traveling across to the central Midwest and on to the southern states in my VW bus during 1977 was perhaps one of the most outstanding events of my lifetime. The magical bus was the perfect conveyance to enjoy the early morning magic while finding another little town, and to peruse the sights around the countryside. I had begun the first autumn viewing and sign painting expedition of my life that wonderful year.

My intention was to start in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and head south through Indiana, Kentucky and Tennessee, as the color gradually shifted, with the eventual destination being Florida for the winter. The first jump of my journey after closing with the carnival in Allegan was straight north through the middle of the state. Although the color was about seventy percent in Jackson County, as I headed north the intensity of color became complete. The vibrant yellow and orange scenery whetted an appetite for more. The little bus meandered through quaint villages, stunning farm country, beautiful water and boating destinations that one by one were investigated my Superdog and decorated by Krazee Davee.

I had fallen in love with this state over the last few years while performing in most of the towns across its length and breadth on a tented circus doing one-day stands, doing two shows a day. After high school, I had joined the circus as a drummer in the band and began to live a lifestyle full of adventure. The microbus helped me trace some of the route the show had taken and allowed me to stop in to see a couple of the girls I had met.

Tourist destinations were all closed down by this time, yet apples and pumpkins were available all along the way. The hint of winter rode the breeze and an ominous overcast sky caused me to select a change in plans. I headed south before I arrived at the Mackinaw Bridge. I am continually amazed at how a hundred miles can influence comfort.

With cold weather looming, heading south became priority. Crossing the state line placed us back in the gorgeous autumn weather. As I headed south through Indiana on the interstate, I reached a point where the van started to run rough and soon thereafter, just refused to go any further. I had to hike to the next exit and get friendly with the mechanic that drove the wrecker parked at the gas station.

The first order of business once the van had been pulled to this establishment was to pinstripe and letter the mechanics toolbox as he investigated the mechanical issue. Scottsville, Indiana was the name of the community. I must admit, some of the most memorable times with my beloved bus were when she broke down. Call it divinity, serendipity or whatever you will, but the timing for being here couldn’t have been more perfect. It was almost Thanksgiving and while the VW was waiting for the parts needed, I walked into town to find some work. Literally every store I went to was ready to have Christmas decorations painted on the picture windows and glass doors thanks to the service having been provided for years by the local sign painter, who incidentally, had died the day before I broke down.

This coup allowed me to rapidly establish rapport with all the members of the business community. Not only did I paint Christmas wreaths, Santa’s, Nativities and holiday messages of all sorts for the next few weeks, but the contacts also led me to dude up hot rods, create extensive pen and ink artwork for a nautical themed menu at a local restaurant and fine sign-work for a jewelry store.

Because of the void being left behind with the passing of the local sign painter, I could have easily assumed his role in this town and moved right in. But a longing in my heart was to take me away from this place that could have become my home, but not before a few false starts.

On one occasion, finally complete with the last project, I was ready to head down the highway. An enthusiastic youngster headed me off before I got to the entrance ramp of the interstate. After begging me to paint one more painting, I then returned to his dad’s auto lot to paint a small mural on the glove compartment door in his sports car. I must admit this community had a lot to love.

My life would have fared quite different if I had stayed in that town, but the lure of the highway kept calling. Soon, I was driving along with the festive colors of autumn flanking both sides of the highway. I was headed into Kentucky.

I decided that the autumn colors would be especially pleasant in a college town so Bowling Green became my next destination. At the edge of a nearby town on the way, I stopped at a corner gas station. While looking at the Hot Rod magazines in the rack inside, I met a young fellow. The elaborate paintwork on the bus piqued his curiosity. He had a 40’s car he was making into a hot rod and wanted a mystical scene painted on the large trunk lid. I followed him to his family’s large sawmill and saw the dark blue vehicle in one of the buildings. On the car, I visualized a rugged mountain scene with a castle atop in the midst of subtle clouds and a large moon. The foreground would have a winding road that led to the ominous dwelling.

During the project, I was made part of the family. Meals took place in their large home in town, in an equally large kitchen. I sat at the biggest dining table I had ever seen and enjoyed the family style of passing large serving bowls heaped with southern vittles. Collard greens, fried okra, lima beans, cornbread, fried chicken and mashed potatoes with white gravy were among my favorites. In addition to my hosts siblings and parents, his grandparents sat at this large table for each meal.

I painted the castle a small size, leaving plenty of room for the rest of the vista on the car trunk lid. I wanted the architectural features of the structure to be accurate upon close inspection. Intricate details for this airbrushed castle were created with the help of cutting friskets or stencils. I carefully cut out interesting shapes from index cards and sprayed color through them. The tedious process produced stunning results that my customer, now my friend, found very pleasing. Finally, complete, I took the memories of this job, being part of his family and the Polaroid photo of this latest masterpiece and bid adieu and headed south into Tennessee.

March 11, 2026March 6, 2026

The County Fair

By august, the time for the Jackson County Fair had arrived. During a rare day off on the Fisher Bros Circus a few years ago I recalled a trip with Hayes to meet his friend Jim Elliott who was setting up his ride. He was now the manager of W G Wade Shows. I figured this would be another place to thrive. With my last twenty dollars, I bought a gallon of paint thinner, a case of beer and had enough left to pay my admission into the fairgrounds. I was then out of money. This situation became do or die.

Once on the fairgrounds, I put a sign under my arm that said “Signs, all kinds” and started walking. I walked around the midway until a showman named Eddie saw me. He hired me to letter “3 plays quarter” on his two Digger games 46 times. While I worked, word got around that I was here.

Next, I met Tim. He had a request to paint something very special. Tim had a stunning clown design and wanted a design embellished with scrollwork and his initials. In order to paint this on either end of his Skee-Ball alley trailer, I had to begin after closing at night and paint throughout the night. The alley was open for business all day. The next morning, my efforts were on display as the showmen awakened. Tim Bors was pleased and would become a steady customer and one of my favorite carnival showmen of all time.

An older man named Peg had a limp and owned a peanut company. He guided me over to where a cute girl was working in one of his lemonade stands. As he encouraged rapport between us, he mentioned that she would really enjoy having her name lettered on the entry door of the trailer. I was happy to oblige as I basked in the glow of her smile. The finished product promoted a sense of pride and even more of her grateful smile. When the project was done, I couldn’t find Peg anywhere to get paid for that name. I never saw him again.

Additional requests for sign work assumed flood status. Soon I was as busy as ever. Although falling for the slick manipulative ploy by Peg, I did go on to become the sign painter for his son and his adopted grandson who still tour with their premier concession operation.

Jack & Sid had the popcorn concession on the show. They had two brand new cotton candy booths. They wanted me to paint fancy Victorian scrollwork around the tops of these booths to imitate what was popular on the circus. They also wanted portraits of clowns holding a cotton candy painted around the base. I referred to an image of friend Bernie Kallman, a clown on the CBCB circus and created his likeness for them. They became not only good customers but great friends. From that humble start, I went on to meet more showmen who provided interesting artistic challenges.

Soon, as the sign painter at the county fair, I drove my little bus among the components of the midway in the morning, parked alongside my next project, behind rides and between concession trailers. All I needed was a little niche near my project. Then as the throngs of fair goers arrived to mill about, I became lost in the project at hand. I had found that perfect place to fit in.

I was encouraged to follow them to the State Fair, where I continued to be as busy as ever. Making money, producing a variety of decorative projects and eating the fun foods that this industry is famous for became my modus operandum. As I became immersed in this society, I also began to notice activities unique to this industry going on in the background – both during the fair and especially during tear down and set up.

I have always been fascinated with how the circus was able to accomplish moving all the components of a giant tented city every day. Here on the carnival, the equipment was much more sophisticated and engineered to perform amazing things. The engineering that went into, not only the ability to carry passengers on a variety of undulating circular ride paths, but the portability that allowed these steel masterpieces to fold up into a manageable size was amazing. During tear down, I was often studying how the crew worked together as the load was transferred from spindle to carrying rack.

These observations opened up a whole new world. I never saw this entertainment environment as the naive patron did. At first, I sought a huge canvas waiting to be enhanced with decorative paint. The I became savvy to why these components work. I studied the mechanics, the science of marketing, the seduction using music, art and lights. I also recognized the psychology of influencing behavior and developed my art form to create desire and appeal. In an effort to better serve this industry, I began to study and become fascinated with other forms of art. I studied comic books, magazine ad illustration, letter forms and color theory.

These showmen competed for attention. Each one seemed to be obsessed with “look at me,” and for good reason. The more effective their advertising, the more they sold. As they sought to out-do each other, requests for finer and more intentional work became an uncanny payoff that benefited us all. Split color roman letters with triple outlines and a double-shadow would tie me up for days, denying a competitor access to the sign man. As they competed, I thrived.

I learned quite a bit about effective visual marketing and how artwork adds to the entertaining environment of the fairgrounds that summer. After the last fair of the season, I received a request from the manager of the show, Jim Elliott. The final project would be on his living quarters/house car.

“I want elephants painted there,” he commanded while pointing at the side, adding, “and I want the paint real thick.”

His green semi soon received elephant heads surrounded by orange circus scrollwork. While I worked on this final project the crew parked the ride equipment in the barns at the fairgrounds for the winter. With the season over I returned to Clarklake.

Hayes reveled at the stories of my adventures and the photos of sign work when I returned to his home. I was motivated to continue with my career as a sign painter. I had an idea for a drawing table to use wherever I went. In an effort to be helpful, he gave me some nice cherry wood slats that I fashioned into folding supports for a portable drawing table that would pack away in the bus. That project was complete when the jacks were varnished and the slats pinstriped.

As the trees began to turn orange in the fall, I took my cue to start my next adventure. I planned to drive first to northern Michigan and then head south to enjoy the fall foliage change across Indiana, Kentucky and Tennessee. I would find sign painting opportunities all along the way.

March 10, 2026March 6, 2026

The First VW

My love affair with the Volkswagen bus began on a sunny afternoon, as I sat in the passenger seat of a pickup truck. I was waiting for my friend to return from the Veterinarian’s office where he had taken his little dog for shots. I hitchhiked earlier that year to visit Billy Griffin in Florida to secure a job on the Clyde Beatty Cole Bros Circus. I found out the rigors of my role as the 24-hour man would not completely satisfy my relentless inner creative urge.

I discovered the merits of the winter in Florida. Sunshine and palm trees coincide with practical weather and enabled life and work to take place outdoors. As I sat in the truck, through the side window I saw a magical vehicle pull in and park next to me. The microbus was dark green and rigged for camping with jalousie windows on each side and a bicycle rack on the front. A flowery couple enjoying themselves ambled out of it and went into one of the stores.

As I studied this unique vehicle, I was sold. I realized this small practical vehicle could provide housing in addition to transportation. This would allow travel and adventure and be the perfect conveyance for a guy with a dog pursuing a trade. That brief introduction to Volkswagen piqued my interest for a compact, unique and loveable mode of transportation.

Three months later, my handling the logistic and advance duties for the largest big top circus on earth was over. I decided the time was ripe to launch my career as a sign painter.

My companion Superdog and I hitchhiked from the Adirondacks, over the mountains of Pennsylvania and across Ohio to land in Michigan where I shared tales of my adventures with friend Hayes.

In a moment of epiphany, as we sat together in his living room, I announced something pivotal.

“Hayes,” a new thought had entered my mind, “I’ve decided that I ought to become a sign painter.”

Inwardly, he chuckled, having known the perfection and perhaps inevitability of this career direction.

“That sounds like a great idea,” beamed his response.

In anticipation of my visit, Hayes had fashioned some decorative shaped boards in his wood shop, routed ornamental edges on them and varnished them to an admirable shine. While I enjoyed respite from the road, Hayes asked me to paint images of his prized birds: a Komourner Tumbler, pigeon and a bantam on the plaques. One board had such a shape that the likeness of the standing Komourner left a blank place in one corner. No problem. I painted a likeness of a blue ribbon and lettered “Champion” on it. Like déjà vu, the next spring at a competition, that bird got a blue ribbon.

Hayes also liked the idea of pinstripes to decorate the slats on the utility trailer he pulled behind his car. Although my first attempts qualified as crude, his enthusiasm for my effort was genuine. I was also getting geared up to serve my customer in Clarklake, Tom Collins, who wanted more signs for the Beach Bar.

One day Hayes spotted a VW bus with a “for sale” sign in the front window along Highway 231 and suggested that we go look at it. The next thing I knew, I was the owner of a 1964 bus with jalousie windows and a pop-top roof, all set up to camp out in. The interior had cabinets and a bunk. Once the bus was mine, I designated an area for my painting gear, personal effects and comfortability for my dog.

The first order of business was to decorate this bus. A perfect panel existed next to the jalousie windows to letter the word signs. I was also experimenting with a device called an airbrush. After securing a CO2 bottle for propellant, I emblazoned my moniker “Krazee Davee” across the entire side in an effective way. A bright orange splat became a comical decorative element above and around the driver’s window to suggest that I had been pelted with something orange. To add to the humor, upon this funny shape I lettered, “I got it!” Then the adventure of a lifetime began.

I started that summer enjoying the barefoot, casual experience of lettering signs at the Beach Bar, with regular intervals of simply walking across the street and immersing myself in the refreshing water of Clark Lake. Becks was on tap and I made friends with several of the waitresses, one of whom became instrumental with my future.

Over the years I made additional signs, logos, gilded window treatments, murals and T-shirt designs for the Beach Bar. What became the focal point in the dining room, was the fancy plate-glass piece with glue-chipped fern shapes in the glass with gold leaf designs to showcase an old-time photo of his dad with his dog. The inscription read ‘Best Friends Meet at the Beach Bar.’ My development over the years from an enthusiastic beginner into an accomplished professional coincided with the Beach Bar morphing from a drink shots and get crazy joint into a respectable place to bring the whole family for dinner.

Being on display while I worked became an effective way to find the next customer. When the annual summertime festival on Clark Lake occurred, my bus was parked in the middle and I lettered signs while I met the people who lived in the area.

The magical microbus transported Superdog and myself to many places. Whenever I needed work, I found the downtown drug store where merchants gathered for a cup of coffee at ten o’clock each morning. I became an attraction when I parked the decorated bus outside and began to paint on it. Lettering ‘Mobile Sign Shop’ across the roof of the bus was one such undertaking. This manner for meeting clients was effective.

Adding to the existing sign work on my vehicle always lead to a job or two from the local merchants. While I painted away on the exterior, someone would ask me to come with them and look at their storefront. Then, I would have a store window, an office door, truck or a van to work on with never a lack of ideas for designs.

Early in my relationship with the VW, a slight inconvenience occurred. The beloved bus refused to start. After some frustration, I became elated to find out that if I planned ahead and parked on a hill, the situation was easy to live with. When the time came to go, I rolled down the hill and popped the clutch while in gear and this vehicle started right up. Even on a flat area, the small size of the vehicle made it easy to get rolling; I pushed it myself and then jumped into the driver’s seat to repeat the above-mentioned procedure. Soon we roared on our way.

I saved my money for a new starter. Little did I know that this situation also provided an opening to influence more than just mechanical integrity.

Hayes suggested I go downtown to Fletcher’s Garage in Jackson to get the starter. I arrived in front of the two-story brick storefront with service bays and out of habit, scanned the available parking spaces for one with a suitable incline to facilitate starting. I then went inside and spoke to the new owner of the business. Kelly Osborne was my age.

“I would like to buy a starter from you, but I don’t have enough money to hire you to install it,” I began, “Can I buy the part from you and install it myself in your driveway?”

Evidently this odd request coming from a good-natured individual created a good impression, because his response was to be helpful. When the bus was in front of his bay doors I went underneath to dismount the starter. This was when I discovered I did not have the proper tools to get the job done. Soon I was back inside.

“May I borrow a socket to remove the rear bolt?”

My good-natured host provided me with the tool I needed.

Over the years Kelly not only became a good friend, but his place of business, renamed ‘Kelly Imports,’ soon sported sign work by Krazee Davee.

During several points in my career, his garage housed a variety of my painted projects. He allowed me to decorate business vehicles there along with making 4×8 wooden signs. I even decorated a complete set of rounding boards for a carousel there one winter. Those were the days of sharing an amber beverage on a tailgate after work with an occasional smoldering herbal accompaniment.

As the years brought maturity to the fellows at Kelly Imports, in addition to keeping an endless succession of VW buses running for me, they became mentors of clean-living and fine examples of living successful lives.

March 9, 2026March 6, 2026

The Great Chalkmarksman

The large tented circus of yesteryear making one-day-stands required finely tuned choreography for all its components. I admired the Clyde-Beatty Cole Bros. Circus since I was a kid. The wreck of the truck used to haul my liberty act ponies and my performing horse shelved my ability to perform with any circus.

I had to assume a job that didn’t require having my own vehicle. The Clyde-Beatty Cole Bros. Circus needed an advance man and the position came with a panel truck in which to work out of. When I arrived at the winter quarters near Deland, I found out more about this job.

My responsibilities were to remain 24 hours ahead of the show. I would put up the arrows for the fleet to follow, lay-out the lot and make all the last-minute preparations. I would also arrange for fuel, hay and other provisions to be delivered to the showgrounds. The most important of these duties was to lay out the lot or designate the positions of the tents and trucks to optimize the circus configuration in the local setting. Another big part of the job was to rail the road, the term left over from the horse and wagon days when, in advance of the circus, rails from local fences were laid across the roads at an intersection to guide the teams pulling the heavy baggage wagons.

The modern truck circus used cardboard arrows taped to sign posts and chalk indications on bridge abutments to give drivers directions to the next lot. This influenced the name I gave myself. Childlike artistic urges found expression as I quickly fashioned directional arrows that resembled stylized circus tents with flags flying and elephants with trunks that pointed the way. Images of clowns, girls and horses were all created spontaneously using large pieces of marking chalk. These diversions made the lonely job ahead of the show interesting and became a source of amusement for the show folks too.

While driving the panel truck towards the next town, I became quite good at finding a place to jump the curb for a place to park. From this location I walked back to a sign post to tape up an arrow or walk to a bridge post and draw a chalk image.

One day while immersed in these duties in Maryland a surprise awaited me. I returned to my truck, prepared to leave and looked in the mirror to see a barefoot girl running up from behind me frantically waving.

“Hey mister” she yelled “can I have a ride?”

I invited her inside. There must have been something comfortable and curious about the white Chevy panel truck with the three speed on the column. My white Spitz Superdog shifted from the shotgun seat to the middle to make room and the barefoot girl settled in. She was tall with long brown hair. She held her head a little forward and looked down as she reeled from what was going on internally. Sad heavy eyes had a demeanor that seemed to look inward, yet were somewhat playful. She was mildly curious about what I was up to but was clearly wrapped up in a world that I knew nothing about.

When she noticed I was looking, her expression perked up and she would quickly smile. Then in an effort to be sociable, she asked an innocent question about the dog, what I was doing, or where we were going. I found out her name was Mary. Our conversation began this way. She was running away and didn’t mind the refuge or the beer. As my tasks along the way continued, my passenger became involved. It ended up that she had no immediate plans so I had a companion for a few days. It was actually fun having someone along while I laid-out the lot and pursued my other duties.

A journey of a hundred miles took all day. I stopped every couple of miles to put up another directional arrow. Each upcoming turn was indicated with a series of three arrow sets. A system of arrow configurations signaled slow down and turn ahead. A mile before a turn the arrangement began with two down arrows on top with one right (or left) turn arrow. The next set had one down and two turn arrows to say slow down, turn ahead, final warning. At the turn all three arrows pointed the direction the fleet was to go. A mile in the right direction a straight up arrow validated everything was right for the driver.

By the time all my arrows were in place for the fleet to find the shopping mall parking lot. Mary was excited about the circus and eager to help. As I stepped off the lot to see how I could get the show to fit, she patiently waited and enjoyed watching Superdog who, filled with zeal, explored the new location.

The big top was laid out using metal rods driven into the asphalt (or grass) to indicate the location of each center pole. From those locations a light chain was used to form the radius of the round ends of the tent. The spacing between the stakes at the perimeter was accurately determined with the use of an extra length of chain dragged along as an “El” behind the spoke of the chain from the center. Thusly the 150×300 canvas behemoth had a place to go and every stake along the perimeter was designated. To anchor the ridge of the tent between the four center poles, semis were parked in a straight line with the length of the top so aerial rigging inside had secure anchor points.

The midway, backyard or performers area, various animal departments, cookhouse and various maintenance departments were all arranged around the central big top. Once the lot was laid out and ready to receive the fleet, we could relax and wait. During this time, we enjoyed a cool amber beverage and reflected on the wonders around us in this new location. The first trucks would roll in, depending on the length of the jump, by midnight or so and at that time I would spot them.

The steady pounding of the stake driver on steel stakes was our alarm clock. The next morning the once vacant lot began transformation into a tented city. With a minimum of sleep, workers began to get the massive tent into the air. The first dramatic feature was the fifty-five-foot aluminum center poles that soon commanded the area that, the evening before was my exclusive territory. Like the proverbial beehive, many activities were accomplished simultaneously and all was intact and ready for a show by noon, in plenty of time for the 2 O’clock matinee.

My companion was content while she observed this plethora of activity while I attended to my sideline business that provided me with extra income: my newspaper route. I arranged for feed, hay and fuel to be delivered to the lot along with the inevitable incidental emergency tasks that occurred with an operation of this size. Mary was imprinted that day with my love for the circus.

When the band started playing for the big show, Mary saw how the physical elements and preparation activity combined to promise an entertaining show for the throngs of people that now filled the seats.

A shrill whistle blast came from a dapper Count Nicolas. He was dressed as a traditional ringmaster in black boots, white riding pants, red claw-hammer tails and top hat. My new friend sat up straight in her seat as if not to miss a thing. This was pure circus all the way.

Lions and tigers went through their paces as well as aerialists, clowns, horses, dogs, jugglers and the large group of elephants that filled three rings with their unique presence. The show culminated with a couple who rode a motorcycle up a cable that went the length of the tent. All of the noise, hoopla, thrills and showmanship climaxed with their final feat of daring.

The circus moved to a new location in the DC area every couple of days. In the midst of helping me prepare the way for this large circus, Mary told me about her family and asked for a ride home to get some shoes. During one of the jumps to lay out the next lot, we drove to her house. After the panel truck crept into a plush suburban neighborhood and I waited, she entered a nice home. She soon returned with a minimum of supplies and was eager to resume her adventure. This glimpse perhaps cemented our connection. I discovered that we had much in common with our backgrounds. We both have an older brother and a younger sister, great parents and came from lovely homes. Yet we searched for something else. We then headed out to be ahead of the show.

With the help of my new friend, the arrows went up, chalk artwork was created on bridge abutments and lots were laid out. Once again, the fleet was efficiently guided to other locations in Maryland. My route card had the list of the next few weeks of towns we were to play. The show was headed through New Jersey and beyond the city to Long Island. With this information looming, my friend reluctantly sought a ride home.

Putting the magical sawdust world behind us, the panel truck penetrated the suburbs. Once we arrived at her home, parting became sad. We exchanged tears and hugs and vowed to stay in touch. Then I went on my way. I may never know the full imprint she received those few days at the circus. But in the following years as her correspondent and friend I was happy to observe she had accumulated a love for both the circus and adventure.

Through the great sprawling city that began in New Jersey and continued with a labyrinth of highways and cloverleaves, my role ahead of the fleet was tested. Putting up the arrows through New York City was only possible at night when traffic was light. Without a shoulder to pull off onto, the panel truck sat in the slow lane unattended while I affixed arrows to the poles.

Long Island was beautiful. New England quaint, yet the same restlessness that originally brought me to this place would take me away. As the solitary routine wove its way through New England, my skills as a creative artist were established amongst the showmen and I began to desire a different, more stimulating situation. My relentless zeal to create could never be completely satisfied with this routine no matter how many bridge abutments existed.

The circus management being aware of my artistic gifts begged me to illustrate a book for future twenty-four-hour men. John Pugh commissioned the artwork best created by a 24-hour man with a working knowledge. The artwork for my ‘Lot Layout Planbook’ was completed in pen and ink in a motel in upper New York state.

I trained a replacement to do my job and became ready to hitchhike to Michigan to launch my career as an artist/sign painter. Before leaving John Pugh requested me to return during the winter to paint the lettering and décor on the entire fleet.

My plan was for Superdog and I to hitchhike to Michigan and launch my career as an artist. I shipped my stuff to Michigan. My horse waited there also. The time spent ahead of the circus had been lucrative. This fallow time gave me ample opportunity to create, live and laugh. My chance meeting allowed my love for the circus to be passed on to another. There could not have been a better place for the beginnings of my visual communication attempts and entertaining artwork. During this time providing guidance for the fleet, I received direction for my career. I often wonder how my friend from long ago is doing as I savor those memories of adventure with the circus as the Great Chalkmarksman.

It was during those months ahead of the show that my thought processes combined to point the same direction. When I arrived back in Michigan to share my tales of adventure with Hayes, he was already anticipating what he had predicted as inevitable. He was delighted to hear among the friendly exchange my impromptu announcement.

“Hayes,” I began in all earnestness, “I’ve made a decision.”

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.

June 20, 2025

Beverly

As a member of the circus audience in her hometown in northern Michigan, I caught her eye from the bandstand three years earlier. Beverly was a tall, longhaired beauty. After tear down that night, an evening of petting initiated our mutual interest in each other. We became pen pals, requiring her to be diligent about writing back to the address I always included of our future destination.

I experienced a sensation that I had never noticed before. The whole world seemed to glow as I went through my established routine. The tasks seemingly fell away, and my usual particular attention to detail seemed fortified with a joyous regard and enthusiastic zeal. The faces of the patrons seemed to have a glow all to themselves too. I just knew they could see it too. This sensation expanded throughout the summer ahead and seemed to lighten any load and fuel me with zeal for whatever was in front of me.

She had a summertime job working for a man with a tourist shop that made souvenirs out of Petoskey stone, a regional geologic phenomenon. Millions of years ago, ocean bottom corals were abundant in this area. Over time the precise pattern similar to a honey comb became imbedded in stone. Now these stones are abundant in this area of Michigan. To make souvenirs the stone is first sliced into thin pieces that reveal the precise pattern and polished. Then the thin sheets are carefully cut by hand into interesting shapes to be made into earrings, pendants and the like. The most popular shape is the outline of the state of Michigan. This is what Bev did. Sitting at the bench with a special saw, a variety of shapes were cut out of the stone and made into merchandise that was also on sale in the shop.

At the end of that season, I had several projects to tackle. I spent the winter at my parent’s home outside of Chicago and built my camper that would also house my drumming bandstand. I was most anxious to show off my handiwork to Beverly.

After the completion of my camper late winter, I drove up to see her and meet her family. Her father had built an A-frame home in a lovely setting in the woods outside Traverse City. I was introduced to music I hadn’t heard before; Seals & Crofts, Cat Stevens and Carol King, and their backwoods lifestyle. We enjoyed an evening of snowmobiling and togetherness prior to my heading south to a warmer climate. Our correspondence continued. As a result, she stayed abreast of my aspirations and adventures on the circus. Our communication covered a variety of interests and spanned our infrequent visits.

One benefit of the tented circus going broke earlier in the year and my hooking up with the Voorheis Circus was that I would be performing in her proximity twice more that year. I couldn’t wait for her to see these ponies. When the show played near her home, I anticipated her visit. I was so proud, standing in the truck, ankle deep in hay, with my beloved ponies. When she arrived, Beverly instantly fell in love with these cute yellow beings and spent the entire afternoon and evening with them, brushing, primping and pouring out affection and love. I saw something special in her that night that validated the warmth that had been growing inside me. I asked her to join me and come along. We could be a family. Her, Superdog, the ponies and myself.

We had a wonderful time together during that visit. The ponies performed flawlessly. She appreciated the level of ability we had achieved. Too soon, the time came for me to head out to the next town. For reasons I may never know, Beverly did not join me on that itinerate pursuit. Our letters continued, but began to wither as my travels and ambitions took me farther and farther away.

At the conclusion of that season, I headed to Clarklake, picked up the rest of the ponies and began the trip to Hugo. I was learning one of the first of several lessons about how this rigorous lifestyle is jealous of any other love. Being in love and not knowing what to do would be replaced with a clear career path. For now, my mind and all of my energy was occupied. I had a big dream and much to do. I became completely immersed in all that was in front of me.

February 26, 2025

Circus Paula

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

January 30, 2025

A Wrench in the Works

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.

200308311347450.Fisher Bros. Circus Truck

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.