Tag: Circus

One of the oldest forms of entertainment is the stereotypical source of amazing wonders

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Smokey Jones

       When I was a child, my mother took us to see the circus. This was an amazing experience and I was sold on the spot. Under the giant canvas big top, numerous things took place simultaneously.  Among the many displays were three rings filled with elephants. These groups of giant mammals would move, pose, stand and salute. The prop men who rolled the tubs in and out of the ring had to be fast to stay out of the way of these fast moving behemoths. At the conclusion of the three ring display, all twenty-two elephants were lead out onto the track that surrounded the rings and encouraged to run. With the herd running at breakneck speed, the ground shook and our adrenaline spiked. The speed and thundering mass of the herd created its own cyclonic vortex that sucked empty popcorn boxes behind them in their wake. In front of the grandstand the elephant boss would stop the first bull in his tracks. Then, like dominos except going backwards, the successive elephants would stop, rise and place their front feet on the back of the bull in front of him, and in only a few moments, the entire column of twenty two pachyderms dwarfed the audience that now looked straight up to see the giants posed in what is called the long mount. This is one of the most significant thrills I remember as a child and the picture remains vivid in my mind.    

SMOKEY 5

During the Voorheis Bros Circus tour in the fall of 1974, I became friends with the famed elephant trainer, Smokey Jones who took me under his wing. During our tour of one day stands performing in high school gymnasiums, I learned many things. The specific manner he taught for popping a whip utilized a technique of swinging my arm in front of my face that seemed to be counter intuitive but, as Smokey pointed out, would result in the return action of the lash – after the crack – going away from my face, hitting the ground and rolling away from my pants leg. He explained that the sound is made when the speed of the end of the lash actually breaks the sound barrier. In addition to learning how to properly pop a whip, I also learned how to twist a popper and weave a four strand plait.

Smokey Jones was a perfectionist. Every little detail was carefully attended to. Instead of a mere bucket to water his elephant from, Smokey had a spotless, stainless steel diary bucket. When the leg chain was removed, instead of the customary mainstream procedure of dropping it to the ground in a heap, to be untangled when next needed, Smokey carefully unhooked the fastener and laid the chain out straight, so that when he returned, the motion required to reattach would be minimal. As I noticed these and other peculiar behaviors, I also realized and appreciated this nuance of efficiency. An opportunity was here to learn a wealth of, not only information, but an uncanny personal philosophy that would influence in a positive way. As Smokey pored forth his personal recipe for success, I came to know and appreciate the attention to detail and attendance to exact procedure he was obsessed with. Smokey introduced me to the concepts of integrity, perfection and preparedness invaluable to animal trainers and caretakers.

Smokey gave me a twisted willow whip handle which is an interesting device. A piece of wood is actually quartered most of the length and each section is rounded to resemble strands. Then, after being soaked to promote pliability, the strands are twisted into a rope-like configuration and lashed at the end with a loop of leather to receive the lash. After acquainting me with this hefty device, he proceeded to demonstrate how a lash is fashioned out of sewing machine belting, a long, round piece of leather used for pulley belts. After securing one end, he made a gentle taper using a sharp knife, a steady hand and a keen eye. Into the end of this ideally shaped leather lash, an eye was punched to receive the popper of which I was next shown how to make. Using nylon kite string, multiple strands were doubled over; an eye was tied into the end and held fast on a nail. Then the twisting and turning that made the many strands begin to resemble rope began with an occasional half hitch of just a few threads to bind it together. Then the twisting and turning resumed adding length to the popper. Occasionally a few threads were severed to allow a taper to occur and after these processes were repeated multiple times, a handsome popper about nine inches long was completed with the tying off of the stray ends with several half hitches and the excess was left hanging out, to become the working end that takes the beating.

In response to his generosity, I not only told him about recently exploring the winter quarters of the Lewis Bros Circus in Jackson and disclosing my finds, but I presented him with the antique elephant bracelet, a wide leather band with three buckles, covered with brass spots as one of a set of decorative pieces for the elephant to wear during the show that I had found. He also gave me a handsome lash with a latigo Turks head that connected the loop to a tapered four strand plait body that went into a single length of strap onto which another of his famous poppers was attached. He explained that this lash was somewhat clumsy and did not work due to being out of balance, so I could only use it as an example of the craft. I still have this lash in my collection.

The idle times together were quite enlightening. Not only was I being introduced to specialty skills but as I imitated the procedures he demonstrated and taught, the stories of circus life in the old days kept me at the edge of my seat the whole time.    

When the two shows were over each evening, the children from the audience were often enthusiastic about the ponies and were often available to recruit to help carry out the pieces of Celetex flooring. When I had these little helpers, after the show, I could stay at the truck to receive and load the pieces as they were carried out. Once the last piece was loaded, I could close the doors on the truck, load the ramp and drive away.  No one was allowed to remain on the school grounds overnight, so once again all the show folks were on their own. Smokey and I had similar needs. We would often find a place to park together somewhere along the way to the next town.

Smokey was full of stories, especially anecdotes about his days with the big herds. At one time he was the boss of the Ringling Bros Barnum & Bailey herd of 38 animals. Elephants are ideally suited for a variety of roles and a big reason that the circus was able to accomplish so much in a day. Elephants could do more than just pull as the baggage horses did. They could also lift, push and grab. In addition to the performance roles where large groups of pachyderms would dance, pose, form pyramids, stand and salute in the show, the elephants would also augment the teamster’s efforts and even perform specialty tasks. They would push heavy wagons, pull stakes, hoist rigging and provide a valuable service to the immense aggregation of muscle that moved the giant tented city each day.SMOKEY 6 2       He told another story about when he was young and just learning to be an elephant handler around the Daily Bros Railroad Circus. One of the many duties of a work elephant around a show with wagons was to prepare them before the end of the day prior to when a team hooked on to take it to the train. Pushing the wagon pole of a heavily loaded wagon off center, toward the outside of the lot, would not only facilitate the teamster hooking up his team, but ease the initial pull by this team. Instead of a dead pull straight forward, the torque needed was fractioned somewhat to move the wagon sideways at first, gathering momentum out of that spot, then straightening out while underway. Moving a wagon pole was effortless for an elephant. She simply leaned against it with her trunk.          
SMOKEY 4B 2       If a heavy wagon had a team hooked up that needed help getting momentum started, the handler would have the elephant place her head against the rear of the wagon and push. Once after spec, while the elephant was still wearing her fancy leather headpiece with ornamental brass spots all over, and Smokey was still in wardrobe he saw such a wagon in distress. He simply went over and had his elephant give the wagon a push with her head. When he got back to the picket line and the boss saw that all the brass spots on the headpiece had been flattened, Smokey got an earful.

During his youth around the “corporation” shows that wintered in Peru, Indiana, named because several circuses operated under one umbrella, tremendous time was spent caretaking the abundance of animals on the three shows. Those were the days when the circus made a spectacular impression on audiences all over the country by providing an abundance of wild animals in a variety of massive displays. Exotic cats, lions, tigers, bears, camels, seals, horses, and others, ad infinitum made up these big acts.

These herds, teams, groups, collections, gangs, gaggles and flocks all required an immense amount of hay, feed, fruit, vegetables, meat and other forms of sustenance. That was the main reason the winter quarters were situated in the middle of farm country. They were close to the grain, hay fields, farms and stockyards. Plus the immense amount of by-products had to be handled and disposed of requiring crews of men with specific and often multiple roles to fill.

He beamed a sinister smile as he recalled the story about when he was cutting up meat for the cats and how a little renegade ankle-biter dog, that was the pet of one of the office ladies, was drawn to the temptation of fresh animal meat and entered his proximity. Smokey took some disgusting part of the carcass innards and tied it around the neck of the little dog and shooed it away, so that when it returned to the circus office, the dog owner would get disgusted.

As he shared these stories about the good old days and the rigors of the railroad circus, I was in awe of what he got to witness during his lifetime. The recollections shared made this history that took place before I was even born, come to life once again.

 The style of daily routine on the school house circus, in contrast to the intense routine and highly social lifestyle on the tented circus made for a lonely on the road experience. I was glad to have a friend like Smokey on this tour. During the afternoons of tending to our chores, I was imprinted positively as the result of the observation, tutelage and encouragement received from this man. His influence echoes today as I go through the routine of up, down and over the road, making sure all preparations possible prior to showtime have been completed. He stressed “be ready” as the mentality to maintain throughout the day when searching for the next right thing to do.  I have found many positive experiences and influential personalities along this road called life so far, and Smokey gifted me with his big hearted positive influences, yet my heart longed for more.

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My Kingdom for an Elephant

Jimmy Silverlake had created not only an efficient moving under canvas circus for season 1974, but the arrangement of canvas and other rolling components on the lot was quite pretty to look at. The image of this tented city on a grassy field conjured up awe, curiosity and intrigue, yet one element was missing. How can this be a circus without an elephant?

JIMMY SILVERLAKE

      In the spring, Jimmy heard about an opportunity to buy an elephant from Tony Diano, a rogue that couldn’t be let off her chain. The deal came with an old rusty trailer and an antique tractor to pull it but Jimmy had room for the elephant in his animal semi. Soon the new attraction was transported to Michigan, tethered and on display, and the rig that came with her became empty. Bert Pettus became our elephant man.
       Having this large empty trailer on the show gave me the ability to pick up the remainder of my ponies from Hayes farm and get them used to traveling on the show. This meant I was tending to eleven ponies.
       Sunshiny afternoons with my ponies on their picket line proved to be a magnet for the little girls that lived in the neighborhood. I had a bucket full of brushes that I would place out near the picket line and the girls would figure it out. Get a brush and go groom a pony. The palominos loved the gentle attention and I had the livestock curried by show time.
       Later in the summer, Bert and Marie’s daughter and her family visited between shrine dates with their two appaloosa high school horses and a six pony liberty act. For the brief times they visited, we had a tremendous population of ponies on that little circus. Jack and Sandy Fulbright showed me how they tended to and performed with their ponies, accelerating my understanding of this specialty.
        As the season progressed, so did the proficiency of my pony act, but the show didn’t fare well. It is never good when the circus catches up to the agent. The rhythm of one day stands became erratic, with gaps during the week when the show would lay dead for a day at first, and then more came with alarming frequency. The tour ran out of route late-summer in the Upper Peninsula, due to the lack of advance personnel. On the school grounds, where the circus played its final engagement, all the investors that had helped Jimmy launch this show arrived to divide up the assets. I had lent him some money too, but due to the hierarchy, was last in line for anything.
       Sitting dead on that final lot, the group bounced ideas back and forth for dissolution, figuring out what each one was going to get, then they had an idea.
       I heard, “give Dave the elephant.”

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      That prompted a flood of concerns. The surprise prompted my imagination to dream up several survival scenarios. My mind became quite busy attempting to figure out, like the rest, how I was going to begin my travels from this place. Sitting on the lot with no way of my own to haul eleven ponies and an elephant, wondering how I was going to proceed occupied my mind the entire night. I was relieved the next day, when they announced other plans had been made for the pachyderm. But this brief episode does qualify me as having the ability to claim being an elephant owner for a day.
        Billy Griffin invited several of us to regroup at his family home in Princeton, Indiana. Jimmy let me use the old dilapidated bull semi to get the livestock to southern Indiana while Audrey from the cookhouse drove my pickup and camper. I had to do something to get equipped to tour with my ponies. I needed a truck. Billy helped me find a truck through the dealers he knew in the area. We found an International Loadstar in Poseyville with an eighteen-foot box that would serve quite well to carry the ponies.
       Once this rig was secure, I began the process of getting it equipped as my pony truck. I rigged up a ramp that hinged down from the side door, and fashioned mangers inside for the comfort of the ponies. The truck also needed a trailer hitch welded on the back for the calliope. I could sleep on the bunk in the trailer for now and have plenty of housing for the three ponies, hay and equipment in the truck body.
       While we camped in Princeton at Billy’s mother’s home, everyone was making changes. A clown from the show who made the trip with us lived in an old dodge van and wanted to buy my pickup with the camper. He drove his old van like a clown would, often screeching to a stop from a tight turn that gave him a thrill. The living quarters inside would be a big improvement for him, but he would have to learn how to carefully drive this top heavy vehicle.
       One at a time, the kinkers left for other digs. The clown found another show to perform on and headed that direction. Audrey planned going with Billy to south Texas. I learned about an upcoming job, a several week tour of one night stands through Michigan on a circus that performed indoors in school gymnasiums.
       I could leave seven ponies on a pasture nearby for six weeks and pick them up when my tour was over and head for Hugo. We all said our goodbyes and the headed different directions.
       At the end of this whirlwind preparation session, enroute to the school house circus tour, I took frail Teddy to Hayes house in Clarklake where he lived the remaining few weeks of his life in his backyard. I often think that celestial beings come to us disguised with hoofs. Knowing and believing this is proof enough that I was visited by an angel. Teddy blessed many children while on the circus during his brief life.
       Everything that I knew to do to be ready was done. I thanked my friend Hayes and started the trek towards Detroit, but nothing would adequately prepare me for what I would discover when I made it to the next circus. 

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Hugo, Oklahoma

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

bob grubb

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

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

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

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

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

Stevens52BobGrubbTrickHorse1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The Bannerman

Advertising in any proximity that the locals gather is a strategy many businesses utilize. A sense of community dedication associated with civic groups is created with these gestures. Hand painted paper signs with the names and ads of these local merchants hanging in the big top is one way of making extra money around the traveling circus. Becoming the banner salesman on the Royal Bros Circus season of one day stands in 1973 was an enterprise that required my sister’s participation to fit into our routine. Our custom was already up early in the morning – Paula would wake me and crawl into the cab of the pickup to resume her sleep while I drove to the next town. When we arrived at the next town, I would jump out of the truck downtown with my steno pad and begin to visit the merchants in all the stores. Paula would then drive the pickup truck with camper pulling the trailer with the calliope and drums, to the edge of the show grounds where the big top was being set up. There she would recruit the canvas boss to drive the rig into position on the lot near the “back door” of the tent.

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      At the beginning of the season, John Frazier had given me a spiel to use and sent me downtown to do my best. I simply found the decision maker in each store and rattled off my memorized pitch, wrote down the particulars of each sign and announcement and collected eighteen dollars for each one. Downtown, my role took me in and out of each store and business, to give the spiel for buying a “banner ad” that would hang in the big top, and the accompanying announcement that would give merchants presence during the afternoon and evening presentation of the circus. I was learning presentation skills plus how to get around the employees in charge of intercepting disruptions and deflecting them. I learned to not disclose my purpose until I got around to talk to the boss.        

As the circus banner salesman in a new town every morning, I had the opportunity to meet an endless stream of interesting people. In Perth, at a candy store, I entered an old time glass store front, going through a heavy wooden door that triggered a bell that rang each time it was opened.        

After listening to my memorized spiel, the elderly woman who otherwise beamed in response to my presence responded with “I’m not going to buy one of your banners.”        

After asking me about my role with the circus, I was then invited to listen as she told me about herself and sat down at the piano. Prior to World War I she had been a piano player for the silent films shown in the local theater. Emotion, drama, excitement, danger and elation were communicated through the flavor of the music created by a live piano player in these theatres. As she played, these examples of how music enhanced this genre of entertainment, my mind was transported to a time when this was state of the art. During the war, she became a bus driver for the war effort and when the war was over, “talkies” had arrived on the scene, so she had to pursue another vocation. This was just one of the many encounters with interesting people that imprinted my heart.       

While I was in town selling banners, Paula had one duty during set up, and that was to take two pullies with long loops of rope and snap them into the lace lines of the big top while it was going up. This facilitated hanging the paper signs later, and was a duty that forced her out of her shell to interact with the crew during set up.        

When I got back to the lot with all the orders, I had to scramble to get the rig backed into the tent and the drums set up, while Paula got busy painting signs on large pieces of white paper with a shoe polish applicator and getting them hung in the big top before the show.        

Paula never did become an enthusiastic showman, partly due to her reclusive nature and partly because I had become a hot headed teenager that had never learned to be gracious as we attempted to get all these tasks done together on a daily basis. Perhaps I was following the example of our father’s strict perfectionist manner of wanting everything done just right, and that added to the already frustrating situation of her being in the turbulent outdoor entertainment business. All I could see was the “perfect” way it could have been done.        

Our comfort was at the mercy of the weather and plagued with egoic whims, moods influenced by situation and selfish ambitions of others, which was more of what we had found on the playground of our youth, yet on a grander, rawer scale. The rigors of one day stands, relentless demands from me and the multitude of twists that occurred in this turbulent lifestyle began to wear on her. Something in my sister had been hurt. She could not show enthusiasm. She remained frustrated and became referred to as poor Paula amongst my trooper friends.        

One morning after having a successful series of banner sales, I returned to the lot to begin with the process of setting up and getting ready for the show, but I could not find the rig on the lot anywhere. I asked the canvas boss if he knew anything, and he sent me to see the elephant man.      

When I asked Dick, he said, “The rig is over there” and pointed north of the lot.        

So I began to walk.    

About a mile from the lot, I found my sister completely frustrated, sitting on the ground, with the truck stuck up to the axels in someone’s front yard. Apparently while driving the rig from where she dropped me off downtown and heading for the lot, she missed the entrance. Thinking she could just go around the block, Paula continued down the road and instead found that it went straight for miles with no place to turn around. Exasperated, she pulled up someone’s driveway and attempted to make a big loop in their front yard. But the lawn was soft, and the truck sank up to the axels.       

When I got there, I was not the loving, supportive brother that she needed at that low point in her life. I became a hot head and screamed and yelled at her. I had to hike back to the lot and recruit the help of the elephant to pull the rig out of that situation. As I look back at my behavior of that day, I realize that my response did more to damage my sister, who already had the tendency to shut down and withdraw. This event caused her to retreat even further into the security of isolation. If I had it all to do over again, I would have become comforting, compassionate and lovingly explained to her that we all make mistakes. The damage of that event set the tone for the rest of our lives. My sister never saw an admirable trait in me from that point on. When I did see her years later, warmth and regard was gone.        

Holding a grudge seems to be a sin of our father, who had his front teeth knocked out on a family water ski excursion by his brother (interestingly, who became a dentist). Making amends or entering the procedure of forgiveness, as taught by Jesus, was not exampled in our family in spite of our father being a minister. Resentment persisted becoming depression as part of our father’s experience.    

After an otherwise busy and fun summer season across picturesque Ontario, we had much to relish and savor from this adventure but a contemptuous “not knowing” for both of us, forced self reliance to the front and we grew apart. My sister and I had survived a turbulent childhood exposed to the vast spectrum of behavior coming from others, to prefer a smaller circle of influence. At the end of that season on the circus in Canada, we trucked back to the Quad cities where, after dropping her off, she began her next semester of college. That was her only experience on a circus.        

I headed east to pursue a fall tour on another show, a small circus with a five week tour through Michigan that performed in school gymnasiums. At the end of that turbulent year, I ventured to Indiana, gathered up the new crop of babies at the Palomino farm, picked up the harness commissioned at Shipshewana and headed for Michigan.        

At Hayes farm, I unloaded the “wiener” babies and prepared to gather up the now grown “yearlings.” One colt had died.        

Hayes told me the story of Lewis Bros Circus, a show owned locally that thrived during the thirties and forties that wintered east of Jackson on Fox Road. He had gone out there in the past to snoop around but the owner of the farm wasn’t keen about visitors. Fortunately the farm had changed hands again and Hayes made friends with the new owner. He saw the left over equipment that had sat for several decades but not before many of the rotting wagons had been burned.        

Since he was friendly with the current owner of the farm, during one of my visits to Clarklake, he suggested that we drive up there and look around. In his green station wagon we went to Fox Road. Behind the large white home in a rural part of the county, a sunken driveway lead past a row of tall trees up to the back where two large barns stood. Inside the first one was a low ceiling and a labyrinth of aisles and stalls, obviously where the animals for the show lived during the winter.        

The other barn was a massive, high ceiling structure with sheet metal on the floor where the elephant was housed. Up on the second floor, a large room was where the wardrobe, canvas repair and other preparations took place.      

As Hayes and I explored the place we saw and inverted elephant tub being used as a coal hopper and recognized other pieces of equipment strewn around. The owner told us to take what we wanted. I found a complete set of liberty horse harness and an elephant bracelet.        

Part of the challenge of living on the road involved an inability to collect things. My choice to keep something usually meant that another belonging would have to get discarded, but this find was too good to pass up.        

After some additional artistic projects Hayes had accumulated for me to complete, I headed for Oklahoma with four yearlings to begin the creation of my new palomino liberty act. I was about to begin the experience that would positively imprint my life in many amazing ways.

       This business I had selected in an effort to make an improvement came filled with extremes; from encouraging friends that would become a positive influence for my lifetime, to crooks with agendas that inflict selfish devastation. Instead of receiving wisdom from the lessons learned on the road, our response was more of what we had established as children. To seek on our own, to cherish self reliance and independence for surviving in this turbulent society. The ponies would teach me something vastly different.

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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.

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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).

CLARK WALTERS

       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. 

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Season Two of the Circus


The plan for the second season was to spend another summer in Michigan, and then pursue a route that would take us to Texas where we would winter in the sunshine of the Rio Grande Valley. The season opening meant that I changed roles, morphing from fabricator and decorator into assuming the set-up and tear down of the side show on the one day stand routine that brought circus entertainment to small towns. During the Fisher Bros Circus season of 1972, I was moving a 30’x60’ tent, had eighteen animals on foot, eighteen animals in cages with two men working for me. Soon a hippopotamus would be among the component of animals.       

63 FBC 1972

The second season also introduced twin bandstand trucks to flank the back door of the big top. Marie Loter was on organ and myself as drummer and announcer.

Another attraction was added to the concessions for the second season of Fisher Bros Circus.  Jim Kernan brought his small Wienie Wagon concession stand. Jim’s presence offered candy apples and hot dogs to the audience in the seats. Each afternoon Jim would sing in a pleasant baritone while he made the candy apples.

Jackie also showed up from the rodeo scene with her tight and bright metallic looking western wardrobe. She presented a whip cracking act and commanded a lot of favorable attention. Jackie was a good-looking lady and her traveling companion was a large white dog.

During the first season, our show had no water wagon.  Raymond Duke was the show’s agent who always booked the show on a lot with a water access. One of the new pieces of equipment in season two was a water tanker. In order for my camper/bandstand pickup to qualify for paid fuel on the show, I was recruited to pull the water wagon. The wagon was made from a pickup truck frame with an elongated square tank resembling a box. Towing the water wagon required that I stop prior to coming onto the lot to fill it each morning. I quickly learned how to divine water from unfamiliar towns and counties.  

I discovered that getting water for the circus would get bogged down in red tape if I sought permission. I figured out how to speed things up. During the week, all churches were mostly vacant. To find a church with a hose bib on the outside of the building provided fast and easy access to water. Weekends, when church was busy, I would look for a school to get water in the same manner. But filling up a several hundred-gallon tank with a water hose took time. So to not hang around looking suspicious while the water filled the tank, I began to take early morning walks once the tap had been turned on. This allowed me to enjoy exploring the new town while not arousing suspicion that water stealing was going on. On the walks I discovered old remnants of feed mills, thriving downtowns and lunch counters in the local drug stores. Neighborhoods provided an endless variety of visual wonder for me to observe. I found I could enjoy olfactory stimulation while the water tank was filling.

Circus entertainment in the early seventies still had influences that lingered from the day of horse and carriage. Famous jungle explorers had brought exotic animals to the forefront of the imagination of every child. The exploration of the world brought many live attractions for touring entertainment productions.

Believe it or Not

Northern Ohio contained the winter quarters and farm of exotic animal showman Tony Diano. The opportunity to purchase his hippopotamus included a large animal cage semi-truck that sported a large water pool and a platform for the feeding and comfort of Ava the hippo. She was named after a popular movie star of that era.

Ava the hippo needed a change of water in her pool daily. I received more cherry pie with the support duties of Ava. Every morning the swampy water had to be dumped on the edge of the lot to lighten the load before the jump to the next town. Once at the next lot, I began the erection of the side show tent and one of my men scooped the hippo cage clean. Then, I took the hippo semi downtown to the fire department and asked them to hose down the hippo and fill the tank. This task was always met with enthusiasm and drew a local crowd. When the tank was full, the heavy rig was carefully driven back to the lot and positioned adjacent to the side show for the paying patrons. 

 Animal presentations with various creatures accomplishing all manner of feats were part of traditional circus performances during the golden era and they were appreciated because the general population still had horse sense, due to their connection with horses.  People revered and cherished the special gifts of a trainer who coaxed his animals to accomplish amazing feats.  I developed a passionate interest observing the unique skills of the trainer of circus animals while drumming for these acts during the show. Discussions between shows and particularly at the cookhouse with trainers reflected this.

Billie Grubb was our cook. She was plump, short and her perpetual smile accompanied plain cotton clothes. She had a sprout of short grey hair. Her country accent radiated from the kitchen in a converted white school bus with red lettering and scrollwork down the sides. A small tent with portable tables was set up beside this galley each day. Breakfast was a challenge sometimes, depending on the lay of the land. The largest and flattest area on the lot was primarily used for the big top and seats, and the show cookhouse tent was sometimes set up on a hill. Because of this, the dining tables were often slightly tilted, creating a challenge when eating pancakes. Instead of pouring syrup onto the stack and having it run off the side of the paper plate, we learned how to first cut a square hole in the middle of the pancake stack and pour the syrup into the hole.

A peek at my future occurred while standing in line at the cookhouse. Billie always graced us with encouraging conversation. She noticed my interest in trained animal presentations. As I inched toward the kitchen window, I heard an innocent enough observation about my interest with performing livestock.

“Hey Drummer Boy, you ought to have a pony act of your own” suggested Billie the cook as she dished up my meal.

The others on the show observed my fascination with Liberty Horses. The harmony between the trainer and a group of horses performing At Liberty, or without any tethers or restraints of any type. This is traditionally regarded as being the most elite of the circus performing arts.  From the bandstand, I observed these liberty routines at every show and in the backlot, interacted with the same animals as I helped the trainer with his chores.

“My husband could train them for you,” Billie continued as I left her proximity with my meal and sought a seat.

Our cook was from Hugo, Oklahoma. She was the wife of Bob Grubb, an old-time cowboy and horse trainer. Together they had a liberty horse acts and other performing horses in many shows over the years. She suggested that I might want to meet her husband Bob someday and see if he could help me train an act of my own. This invitation prompted a new flood of ideas.

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Bigger Better Brighter

The first season of the 1971 Fisher Bros Circus was a huge success. Mel and BK even took off mid-summer for a few days and returned with a new Suburban truck and a Holiday Rambler trailer. The old Chevy panel truck that had been used to pull their travel trailer was replaced with this fancy Suburban and the panel truck began to pull the generator trailer. 

51 FBC1 2

During the tour, the raggedy old big top was replaced with a new large tent. Same with the side show. The 20×30 tent was replaced with a 30×50 tent that allowed for other additions. Inside the bigger tent I had room for the elephant to be on display. This provided a boost in attendance and an opportunity to sell peanuts. Other attractions were steadily added during our lucrative season in Michigan. 

We acquired some caged monkeys. Among them was a green, dog-faced baboon who we named “King Kong.” King Kong helped with the opening procedure of the side show.  

Before the big show, Melvin would stand on the platform in front of the side show tent and announce, “Ladies and Gentlemen, you are going to want to bring the children up close to see this very special attraction… right here, right now that is absolutely free!” 

Boisterous best describes the fourth of the Silverlake children. With a passion for old westerns, Melvin dressed the part. Perpetual boots and a cowboy hat were augmented at showtime with a gun belt, string tie, bandana and an exotic fur vest. 

He could recite classic lines from film stars of the genre he loved and often did when he entertained. With the help of a sixteen-millimeter film projector, he loved showing us western movies up against the side of the ticket trailer during the occasional Sunday evening after a matinee only.     

Melvin took a wide stance that included his face flanked by dark shiny hair that imitated Elvis and infectious enthusiasm. This demeanor was perfect in his role as host of the circus. His interactions with crew and staff resulted in enthusiasm that permeated throughout. At show time on the side show platform this exuberance served well as the audience got caught up and responded to his calculated charm. 

“Since there is still plenty of time before the doors open for the big show,” he continued, “And in an effort to bring a little entertainment out here for you, while you are waiting, we are going to bring King Kong right out here for everyone to see.”

54 King Kong 1971

I waited inside the tent at his cage for the right moment in Melvin’s presentation, I snapped a leash to his collar and led him out at just the right moment. Kong jumped on the ticket box responding to the facial expressions of the crowd with some expressive behavior of his own. Kong jumped up and down and showed them his teeth. King Kong proved to be a real crowd pleaser and effective to drive patrons inside to see the attractions. 

The result of receiving a percentage of the side show revenue was an incentive for me. I fashioned flags to dress up the front and lettered Believe It or Not on an old bally cloth.

After that summer in Michigan, we headed south. An interesting cross section of the circus industry had come and gone. Performers, friends and fans had visited and wished us well.  The sister show – Clark & Walters – closed early. They returned the equipment to Indiana and some of the personnel showed up on Fisher Bros including Ralph the mechanic. The show meandered south and west before returning to Medora. When the season ended in the fall, we contributed ideas and plans for improvements.  

Once back at winter quarters in Medora, Indiana, the combined equipment for both circuses packed that hilly place and a brief reunion of personnel began to swap stories of the season’s highlights before leaving for the winter. 

At the seasons end, with my portion of the proceeds from the side show, I purchased a GMC pickup from Ralph the mechanic, made plans to travel to Elkhart, Indiana to see how RVs were made and buy supplies needed to build my own camper. Then I returned to my parent’s home to begin building my special camper that would open up into a bandstand for my drums.

I also set out to learn another skill that would make me a more valuable showman. Torchy, a retired aerialist asked me what it was that I was going to add to my repertoire that winter.  

Out of the blue I blurted, “I’m going to become a bagpipe player.” 

She knew a couple in the Chicago suburbs of Wheaton that used to troupe and now had a music store. She made a phone call. Yes, they could get me a set of bagpipes. With Torchies help I began to plan my attraction for the side show. 

During a phone call to my parents to announce that I would be coming home for the winter, I asked my mother to find me a bagpipe teacher. That winter, among my many projects, I met Scotty regularly over the next two months. Scotty taught me how to play Gaelic melodies on the Chanter. I learned special fingering techniques and how to blow and squeeze the air bag with my arm to maintain constant pressure. He also instructed me in how the reeds in each pipe were tuned and maintained. Scotty also suggested a great way to build a storage box to protect my pipes.  

I still remember his last comment; “Ya got de guts kit, larnin’ de pipin’ for da bally hooin’.” 

At my parent’s house out in the garage, I set up my workspace. I cut two by twos to length and created a series of interlocking notches and glued and screwed the entire skeleton together for my bandstand/camper. The finished skeleton was then lined with paneling, insulated and covered with corrugated aluminum. Windows, a propane system and a bunk over the cab was installed. The entire back of the camper was designed to lift open to create a large area for my drums. This was to ensure that I would be out of the weather and have greater visibility while playing during the show. 

67 First Camper

By February, I had completed my camper/bandstand and drove over to Michigan to visit Bev. I met her the previous summer and stayed in contact. I showed her family what I had accomplished. While enjoying snowmobiling and holding tightly to my girl, I saw huge snowflakes drift down to transform this beautiful country I knew from warmer days.   

After our togetherness, I drove to visit friend Hayes in Clarklake, and then on to Medora. 

Winter quarters consisted of a block building dug into the side of a hill with a large area inside for the two elephants named Norma Jean and Dixie who were in the back. These two stood for long hours chained in the barn. In order to cope, they developed an animated swinging behavior using their entire bodies, swaying side to side. Trigger, the five-footed horse, was also tied next to them. He developed the same habit of swinging in order to avoid getting bumped. The front half of the barn housed bundles of canvas from both shows, piled high along one side, and there was a central work area for construction projects. 

This is where I began painting signs, banners, and ticket boxes during the cold weather. On warmer days I worked outside on the new popcorn trailer and then lettered all the doors of the trucks. The second season of the Fisher Bros Circus appeared in sharp contrast to the ragged upstart of just a year ago. As the opening date loomed closer, the new canvas, seats and improved trucks promised to produce a better all-around show.

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No People Like Show People

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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A New Beginning

Many minute details are unique to the touring big top circus that relied on canvas and rope. Specialties include the specific knots used to fasten the guy ropes to the stakes and techniques of the crew working together to accomplish the guy out or tightening of the ropes in order to stretch the circus tent, fascinating to watch. The crew boss would crouch by a stake, loosen the top retaining loop of this knot and use a rhythmic chant to coax the crew gripping the rope, to lean and jerk together repeatedly, as he secured every inch they gained.  

“Hit it, break it, shake it, make it,” went the refrain, “Hit it, break it, shake it, down stake it, one more time, again. Now move along.”    

Once the tent was assembled, the kinkers, or performers, moved inside the tent to hang rigging, arrange props and make their preparations for the show. This took place while the seats were being assembled. Once the calliope wagon was moved into position, I could set up my drums. This was a favorite time for most of us, as we could socialize while we worked. Each performance specialty had consideration for the other performers, since we all shared the same round performance venue. The rigging for the aerial numbers was suspended only during the portion of the show when their act took place.  

During the winter, many things occur to affect the routines of the showmen. The plan for this winter was no different.  Mel and his wife Bessie-Katherine planned to take a brand-new circus on the road in the spring. I was asked to replace BK as the marionette puppeteer who performed school assembly programs in the Chicago suburbs that winter. This would free her up so she could get started booking the new route. My training in the field of puppetry began immediately. When BK’s father Raymond Duke lost his job as billposter on the King Bros Circus, he became available as the booking agent for the new circus. BK was freed up to continue as puppeteer. I was then sent to the winter quarters in southern Indiana to begin building, painting and applying myself creatively in many ways. 

I found winter quarters busy getting Clark & Walters Circus ready to go on the road. Maintenance crews were repairing old equipment and freshening everything up with new paint. Fresh paint made the show look brand new. Once this show left in the spring for their opening town, work began to build Fisher Bros Circus. 

I began to drill, bolt, weld and decorate with paint. I couldn’t believe it – Melvin Silverlake and his wife were creating and taking a new circus out and I was at the center of it, doing everything I could to be valuable. By welding upright brackets and reinforcements onto a flatbed trailer frame, I made a pole trailer with storage racks for seat boards, stakes and side poles. 

Instead of having a spool truck to load the big top canvas, our plan was to load using the reef style of getting the folded-up canvas onto the back of the pole trailer. This is a process where, while the trailer was backed up, crew members lift a segment of the big top to lay on the deck. This process was repeated until the entire length of canvas was loaded onto the trailer. 

  A rough looking moving van became our elephant and lead stock truck. The inside received a bulkhead to separate the animals. The area over the cab was outfitted to haul hay. By adding a trailer hitch, this truck could pull the trailer modified to be our ticket office and popcorn wagon. With yellow paint and a yardstick, I figured out how to emblazon the exterior of the elephant truck with giant lettering “Fisher Bros Circus.” Eager to accomplish anything I could, learning as I went, I created solutions that were unique for this interesting industry.   

The show was operating on a financial shoestring and in true show business fashion, frantic preparations accelerated to a panicked crescendo that accompanied opening day. When we moved all of the equipment to the opening town several miles away, we discovered crucial elements missing. Many items were needed for tonight’s show. We had no light bulbs for the big top chandeliers. BK had only fourteen dollars and needed to get soup for the cookhouse.  

Fortunately, a friend and fan of the circus, Lou Kretchmer was visiting in his Cadillac with his Scotty trailer towed behind. He loved to sell advertising banners to the local merchants to hang in the tent for extra income. He was sent downtown to swap a banner ad for some light bulbs. He discovered there was only one hardware store in town that had what we needed. They bought an ad banner in exchange for the bulbs and we were in business.  

We found out later that there was no chain to secure the elephant.  Lou was sent back to the same hardware store to sell another banner for the chain.  

Our show was little more than a raggedy big top with a few tired vehicles transformed to carry specific loads, and a handful of people who handled multiple tasks. After making the jump back from the sister show to pick up the elephant opening day, I was painting finishing touches on whatever needed my magic.  Lou and Melvin were strategizing. They had a plan to make money.  

At the last minute they took the cookhouse tent and set it up on the midway to become a sideshow. They put four animals inside, gave an opening pitch to the gathered crowd and charged twenty-five cents to go inside. The large crowd was eager to see this attraction. Later they realized someone would have to put it up and down every day. I was then given my Cherry Pie.  

Now that we were on the road, my role as fabricator and decorator evolved. I was erecting and running the side show tent, with a reward of a portion of the proceeds. Right out of high school, I was traveling with a big top circus making one day stands. The daily routine of erecting tents, arranging equipment and setting up the apparatus required coordinated teamwork.  At seventeen, the initiation rites into the flurry of activity that is the circus was introduced to me. I enjoyed being immersed in the myriad tasks of setting up a portion of the tented city, producing my portion of the two performances daily. With the daily contribution to the entertainment of another community complete, taking the show down and loading it in preparation for the jump to the next town was an activity that kept me busy.