fiction – Letterfly Writes

February 24, 2026February 24, 2026

Calamity

Intensely independent to a fault, I wasn’t receptive to the suggestions of some of my fellow showmen who saw a problem with the engineering of the trailer hitch I had built myself. The challenge of putting a trailer behind a big truck is with the highway pounding that is amplified by a hitch that is far from the rear axle. I had stretched the frame on the truck for this big box, creating a hostile environment behind for the trailer to withstand. In an effort to solve this problem, I built a swinging hitch stabilized with a leaf spring. But rather than compromise the storage area over the hitch and allow for movement needed to negotiate severe driveways, I inadvertently created an up and down stress magnifier. Any severe angle I drove through transferred tremendous strain through my hitch into the trailer frame, promoting breakage.

The rigors of the jumps promoted breakage on the frame of the calliope trailer hooked behind this monster rig. Sometimes the breaks were so drastic that I couldn’t continue. Staying behind to get the cracks in the frame strengthened took time away from performing. I was instead parked next to a welding shop with my livestock unloaded nearby.

During this respite, I would often saddle up the horse and go for a long ride. Also tagging along on the trail ride was the baby pony and my two dogs. In addition to my trusty companion Superdog, I had adopted a Samoyed, who I named Imanova.

As a group of five, we would head one direction for a mile, then turn north and continue for another mile. While on these outings, I not only bonded with these critters, but while in the saddle I had yet another opportunity to study the details of this foreign land. Repeating this pattern of change in direction yielded a continual visual assessment of my new surroundings. We made a curious sight along the way. Tall guy, big horse, small pony baby and two white dogs on parade in the country.

There is a rhythm, as I have mentioned many times before, that takes place with the population of a circus doing one day stands. As the energy is expounded, the routine is not unlike controlled fusion. But when an interruption comes to the routine of continual effort, time alone can become a foreign experience and the wheels keep spinning. I already consumed beer on a regular basis, burning off the effects as energy was invested throughout the day. Now with idle time, waiting for repairs, the same consumption rate expanded to produce other consequences. Mixed with an inclination to explore, with my guard down, I sought interesting places to mix with my environment and consume.

While broke down in Dauphin, I attended the Ukrainian festival, a drinking festival. The aftermath seemed to be streets sprinkled with the broken glass of many beer bottles. When the repairs were complete, with a head full of cobwebs, I caught up to the show. Then it was time to resume the insane pace of working all day and continue to party every night.

Near the end of the season at one town in northern Ontario, situation created a new scenario. All day rains made the lot soft. After the elephants pulled everything off the lot, there was no place to park the fleet. The decision was made by management to drive that night to the next town, 250 miles away. I had already made plans that night to see the band at the hotel and eat some pizza. I figured after the party I would do my driving.

Never occurring to me that this wasn’t very smart, while driving late that night, I nodded at the wheel. Hearing the rumble strips, I woke abruptly to see that I was going off the road. Panicked, I yanked the steering wheel hard to the right in an attempt to get straight and back on the road, but the angle was too steep. I watched the horizon rotate clockwise to assume a vertical stance as the top-heavy rig laid over on its side. Once the huge thump and the skidding stopped, I was stunned. I had to stand up in the now sideways cab, reach up to open the passenger door that was over my head. After crawling out, I stood on the side of the rig to realize the predicament I was in.

Feelings sank as I heard the ponies clamber helplessly inside the rig that was now on its side. I was now wide awake. Not knowing what to do in the depth of night on this forlorn road in the middle of the desolate wilderness of northern Ontario, I began to walk. After what seemed a significant hike, I came to a house and went up the long drive to the front door and knocked. I awakened the couple that resided there who then became helpful and called the police.

Then a series of interactions with rescue personalities began. Back at the accident site, I saw how narrowly my truck missed going down a deep ravine instead of resting against the telephone pole that prevented its further decline. As I assessed the damage with the rescue crew, I saw my horse lying on the side of the road knocked out. He had slid up the inside wall and burst through the metal roof. Jagged metal edges now surrounded him. Being knocked out was a blessing that prevented him from flailing and shredding his legs against the jagged metal.

A group of us dragged him away from that danger. The sun was just coming up as the wrecker arrived to upright the rig. A local horseman had been called to show up with a stock trailer to take the ponies and horse off the roadside to his farm. I would discover, only a few days later, that he wanted an exorbitant fee for his troubles, validating a suspicion that what he really wanted was to keep my ponies. Miraculously, only one pony had a splinter in his neck. The entire troop was unhurt.

The wrecker took the rig first to the circus grounds. My fellow showmen were shocked at the sight. I was filled with an immense shame for what I had done. There on the lot, after the show left for the next town, I began to attempt to get the wreck ready to roll again. I wrapped a long chain around the burst box to keep it closed and pried the bent metal features of my beloved pony truck into a useable situation. Then I started it up.

With steam and motor fluids coming from the engine, I drove to where the ponies were turned loose in a paddock, paid the extortionist his fee and loaded the livestock, except for the baby who he received as part of his pay. I crept toward what I hoped was a friendly town, where the show planned to winter the equipment at the fairgrounds. There I found a man with a trotting horse stable who let me put my stock in an empty paddock.

I was lost, not knowing where to turn. I hitchhiked back to the show, and after eating at the cookhouse, John Frazier revealed his true nature to me. To him I was just a commodity. I think that Al Stencell was inclined to want to help me but was quieted by his partner. John realized without means to get my enterprise to the next lot, I was no longer useful to him and eating in the cookhouse cost money. He became a belligerent, unfeeling monster and ran me off the show.

I went from that place dazed. On top of the shame that compounded with disbelief for what I had done, a myriad of other feelings propelled me into an emotional bottom. Doubly tragic was the premise held that the circus was my family. I was learning through this predicament the hard way that my value to this family is conditional. I had learned as a child that I get my value from what I produce. This explained why I obsessively added to my repertoire.

Without my ability to produce, I was alone. Now with an aggregation of bent up, useless equipment and livestock stranded in a foreign country, I am rejected by my people. In the midst of a deepening grief, I realize the magnitude of what I had done. I was alone with this mess. In the depths of depression, I slowly began to attend to immediate needs. One of which was to try to extinguish the deepening grief. Somehow.

December 18, 2025

Sir Bingo

The auction barn in the middle of the fairgrounds in Hugo, Oklahoma during the off- season of 1975-76 had become a familiar place. Now during my third winter, energy was invested as I learned to work the horse that Bob Grubb had not only trained to perform a circus act but had raised from a baby. Now as a five-year-old, “Bingo” could march, bow, side step, lay down, sit up, rear, volte, and do the camel stretch. Each rigorous session with this horse concluded when Bob saw an improvement in how we were getting along and instructed me to “walk him cool.”

Part of what I enjoyed with this horse was to just get away and go for a ride. The streets of Hugo were used to seeing unusual sights around town because of the circus people who lived here. Occasional mornings we deviated from the rigors of practice and Bingo and I went sightseeing. This was a reward for doing well.

His father was buckskin with a black mane and tail and his mother was a white and sorrel paint horse. The combination they conceived was a white and buckskin paint body with white legs and a black mane. Spectacular was his tail; white with a black tip.

My time in the saddle became a time to think through the many other tasks that were waiting and to organize a plan for accomplishing them in the afternoon. This equine enterprise came with additional fascinating elements. Julie, one of the ponies, was pregnant. With Bob’s encouragement, we situated a foaling stall for her in the barn.

One rainy morning we discovered a wet baby in the stall. As we watched, the little wonder struggled at first to find a way up to her feet. After a few wobbly attempts, she finally stood. Seeing this wonder cemented awe. This addition to the group, as the season progressed, would prove as yet another target for my affection and an ongoing source of fun.

I had a challenge not predicted. The truck allowed great comfort for just the pony act. In order to haul the horse in the truck, I had to rearrange the floor plan. Instead of ample room for just them with the manger alongside an entire side, the interior of the truck received changes. Part of the manger was removed; the ponies were squeezed tight to the front and a standing stall was built along the outside wall for “Bingo.” The remaining area in the other corner was reserved for Julie and the baby. A small wall prevented Bingo’s front feet from stepping on anyone in front of him. I had to cross-tie his head up high to keep him from biting Finley, who now stood underneath and in front of him.

Adding the horse pushed the limit of this truck over the top. As the winter practice session came to its conclusion, the time arrived to go. I headed toward another brief tour, this time across Louisiana. I would perform the horse act for the first time. Then my plan was for another tour of Canada. Starting in Louisiana in the spring with what was left of the old Fisher Bros Circus, I worked my new act in front of sparse crowds.

The season of 1976 began with tire trouble. The pony truck was now overloaded. The leaf springs seemed to be getting tired. To prevent the tires from rubbing the underside of the truck box, I placed blocks of wood as spacers between the overloaded leaf springs. At one time I thought the best way to see the country would be on a traveling circus. That is just not true. The best way to see the details that abound and get to know the locals in this country is to be broke down between towns on a circus. I would see plenty this season.

At one location in Louisiana it was impossible to continue my trip without replacing tires. I was in picturesque bayou country. Spanish moss hung from Grandfather Oak trees. My rig stopped along a quiet road. I had room to unload. The ponies were out on the picket line, with the baby and Bingo nearby. I awaited assistance from a tire service truck. While there I studied the details of the weathered surroundings bleached by the relentless sun.

A long, low wooden building with large porch had no exterior indications to hint at what was inside aside from the neon beer signs in the windows. Completely open sided most of the year, a corrugated metal roof provided shade. Old wooden chairs invited comfort on the creaky wooden floor. A spring-loaded screen door with a porcelain “Tetley Tea” push bar across the middle would slam after each customer pried it open and went in or out.

This was not a highly traveled road. My compromised parking site on the side of the road was not a big concern for the slow-moving people in this sparsely populated and pleasant area. When the tire truck arrived my ability to roll down the highway was restored. I returned to the pace of two shows a day for the remaining weeks of the short season.

An oasis occurred when that short tour was over partway to the opening town. Those of us heading to Canada stopped at a family farm in Missouri to lay over for a few days. At that place I had an opportunity to paint the red stripe around the truck box. I also saw the remains of the hippopotamus semi that I took care of a few years prior. Ava had died. It was rusting, unused in the woods. We left in plenty of time to make the long trip to Alberta for the opening of season 1976 with Royal Bros Circus.

Prior to Memorial Day, the long jump to western Canada was complete and we were ready to open early summer. In addition to the six-pony liberty act and my new horse act, I played the pre-show calliope concert on the midway and became “David McDavid” the bagpipe player in the side show. I also worked the magic act as taught to me by Dennis Michael where I had the bird whistle pitch.

The baby pony, only months old, had begun to prefer hanging around Bingo, who was loose while other ponies were secure on the picket line. With increasing bravado, the baby’s territory increased. The baby began to follow us while I rode Bingo. The performance each day started with Spec, the parade of all the performers around the three rings in the big top. While I rode my horse, the little baby trotted along behind to the amusement of everybody.

The Royal Bros Circus opened the 1976 season in southern Alberta. The route took us up into the foot hills of the Rockies to several spectacular resort towns. In the midst of this rugged splendor, a flat place large enough to put up a circus was rare but, there we were. The raggedy old big top with our curious collection of rolling stock was pitched between the imposing mountains that dwarfed us and our specific intention. One day was especially memorable.

One sunshiny day prior to the matinee with the mountains looming all around us, I remember standing on the bally platform with the others during the side show opening. A sudden gust of wind blew way up in the mountains. A few moments later we were lightly dusted with the snow dislodged from the high altitudes. A chill of delight passed through the crowd accompanied this surprise. In a few moments the sun warmed us back up. We were immersed in some of the most picturesque country I had ever seen accumulating vivid memories.

One magical, dark morning, I drove into the tempering horizon with the foothills at my back. The roadbed leveled onto a long flat stretch. Ahead I saw a layer of fog that looked like a lakebed settled on the lower altitude. As the jump continued, I descended into this foggy area and became immersed in dense, misty surroundings. Visual access to the surrounding terrain disappeared. This was the fog of the cliché about your hand in front of your face.

Mile after mile I drove with utmost caution. Unknown to me, the sun began to rise. Accumulating light slowly illuminated the surface of this layer of fog, just above me. A visual sensation began and became a magical dance of light. An ocular rhythm occurred due to moving forward underneath the surface of this sea of fog. The light interacted with the irregular surface of the cloud and combined with a slow turbulence as it responded to the warming rays of sunshine. The visual experience that morning was not unlike the mystique of the Aurora Borealis.

On the other side of that long low stretch, an incline allowed me to emerge from the fog, where I witnessed the most splendiferous sunrise I have ever seen, in a sky so huge it must obviously have some of Montana’s mixed in with it.

This spectacular wonder was just one of the many visual sensations that mixed with the joy of being a performing horseman, creative in many ways that also served to validate the original decision to join the circus. To this day I remain on the lookout to continue seeing new wonders in this world that God has created. This life I have been gifted with continues to fill me with awe and zeal for each and every new day.

November 25, 2025

Circus Horses

On the big spectacular three ring circus of yesteryear, horses commanded the performance tober. The lavish warm-up display prior to the presentation of the elite dancing horse act, was a massive pageant of Manege horses filling all the rings and the hippodrome track in front of the audience. Among the circus equestrian performing arts, the Manege horse is an entry-level performing animal that the novice rider soon fulfills. Famous for the lay-down, sit up, bow, march and camel stretch, these poses are manageable by most riders, thus the name.

Dozens of horses were choreographed to perform these movements in time with the music prior to the introduction of the true star of the show, the Haute E’cole or High School or horse schooled to the highest level.

With that spectacle over, all eyes were directed to the highest-ranking equestrian performer of all. Classic horsemanship movements, the result of years of training and rehearsal, were then demonstrated to the audience. Passage, piaffe; high trot, march, canter changes, even the backwards canter with one elevated foreleg. These remarkable movements qualify as poetic and gymnastic and share the echelon populated by opera, ballet, orchestra and Shakespeare virtuosos. I had recently witnessed this rich tradition at Chuck Grant’s farm and my creative mind began to dream bigger dreams.

I had been saving my money during season 1975 to buy Bob Grubb’s horse “Bingo,” a Buckskin Tobiano Paint Horse with spectacular markings. Standing at 15.2 hands, his stocky quarter horse frame would provide me with a handsome steed. When the season was over, the riding lessons with Clarence gave me a foundation for beginning. Now back at the fairgrounds in Hugo, the time came for the purchase and to begin to learn how to work my new horse. I started learning another circus act.

With my six-pony liberty act, I had created a wonderful career with a promising future. Once the startup hurdle was over, the animals became seasoned performers. This package was perfect in many ways. The magnitude of work to get to this place had been rewarding and the experience would help me in ways I would realize later. Now the business of having this pony act settled into finding opportunities to perform on a regular basis and the ongoing maintenance on the road.

Another aspect that made this small business perfect was that I had options other animal handlers did not have. For extended periods I could place them on pasture during the off season, freeing me to pursue other opportunities. I actually credit these ponies with making me a better sign painter. No matter what, they kept right on eating. That motivated me ongoingly to find and secure sign work.

Now I was adding a Manege horse to the lineup. I still had plenty to learn about this genre of horsemanship. The success of this enterprise required developing relationships with others. Networking within the circus industry is how one kept an act booked. Established circus families had strong connections that resulted from many generations of activity. The upper echelon of circus performers was a close-knit family that trusted only time-honored generational links to the industry. I was the new guy and because of my childhood I was reluctant.

During the five years I provided the palomino liberty act to big top circuses, the most I ever worked in one season was twenty-seven weeks. Compared to the lucrative experiences enjoyed at the beginning of my career, the pay I received for this attractive collection of performing ponies did not match the investment.

I had been lucky right out of high school with Mel Silverlake, who wanted my creative skills. I had been in the right place at the right time, landing a lucrative role with his show. I had not learned several valuable social lessons in this industry. My mind was always on, but I was lost in the creative realm of visualizing more of what I wanted. I hadn’t developed an interest in others. Booking employment for horse acts and negotiating pay required skills and knowledge I did not possess. I was taken advantage of by shrewd producers and selfish circus owners. I was an outsider, not coming from a circus family. This promoted a skepticism and an aloofness that I didn’t understand or know how to break through. But it didn’t seem to stop me. I added a horse to my line up.

Perhaps the writing was on the wall in regard to horses in the circus of the future. Regardless, I continued with my plans to become bigger and better than ever. I had found another way to thrive. I was fortunate that when the ponies were loose on pasture I could chase and secure sign painting to do.

As Bob showed me how to make my new horse bow, stretch, kneel and march. I utilized the riding skills that Clarence had taught me. I began to speak the language to my horse that came through my seat, hands and attitude from the saddle.

Bob continued to teach me how to get this new horse through the paces each morning. Each morning our routine was to practice with supervision, covering all the movements. Then rehearsing a possible routine, striving to maintain the proper posture and attitude the whole time.

While learning the lay-down starting with a kneel, from where the horse would roll down onto his side, I had to make sure to keep my leg away from his side as he laid over, or else I would become pinned to the ground with a half-ton laying on my leg. I was taught to hold my left leg out when the barrel of the horse became steeply inclined, and this became instinctive.

After an intense session Bob would encourage me to go on a leisurely ride around town and along the country roads to get familiar with my horse and to give him a quiet reward. I had grandiose ambitions and while immersed in this learning curve, I would also find out there was a lot to love with having a horse. A horse is a magnificent and wiling animal and the reason that mankind has been able to accomplish so much throughout history. Once the horse understands what is being asked, he is willing to comply. He develops a work ethic that is directly related to the consistency of the rider or trainer, forcing an honesty to the surface. Results don’t lie.

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.

May 23, 2025

Circus Voorheis

The relentless pace of one day stands on a big top circus can switch from the regular rhythm in a moment, into a turbulent situation for an ever expanding list of reasons. Like all aspects of nature, show business is involved in an evolution. At one time, circus acts shared the theatric venue called vaudeville. Entertainment changed with the advent of motion pictures and the displaced acts either evolved or died. Change is constant. I was in the midst of learning the lessons that come from upheaval from the solution I had found at the beginning of the year, having turned into a dead end. Having found an alternative, scrambled to embrace this new opportunity, but was to find it was not without additional demands for change.

The first season with the beginnings of my young liberty act were not immune to trouble. As the animals became familiar with the chaos of working in front of an audience and became consistent with their routine, other factors interrupted our momentum. After the whirlwind experience of being on the Barnes & Dailey Circus that folded mid season, getting the livestock relocated, racing to get equipped by buying a truck, selling the camper and getting the new rig racked to haul all my circus equipment, prior to landing a five week contract with my three pony liberty act in the fall of 1974, I arrived in a parking lot of a high school in a small town north of Detroit. I was glad to find work.

My tour on Circus Voorheis provided my first experience of performing with an indoor venue. I was to learn several distinctions exist from the grass lot big top version of doing one day stands, here on a school house circus.

The first difference was the footing for the ponies on the gymnasium floor. A school house circus was perfect for unicycle, roller skate and juggling acts that suffer on a bumpy dirt lot, but the slick floor was a detriment to my pony act. I had to invest in Celetex or Homosote sheeting to lay on the gym floor under the canvas ring mat to provide proper footing for the ponies. This is a thick insulating board made from a loose cardboard-like material.

This circus was different in other ways too. Since each gym had bleachers, none of the big top or seating equipment used on a mud show was necessary. The show only had to carry props, lighting, sound and concessions. We also had a different daily routine. The show was not welcome at the building until school let out. Rather than enjoy the daily camaraderie I was used to on a tent show, here between towns everyone was on their own. With different needs, the various trucks and trailers of the staff and performers were parked hap-hazard at shopping plaza parking lots and various other convenient places to wait until the school building became available. I had entered a new realm of entertainment. With my reclusive pattern of identifying problems, creating solutions and accomplishing things on my own, this new itinerate routine was quickly adopted.

My immediate daily needs along the route were for water and a place to dispose of manure, so truck stops and remote areas became frequented and fertilized. I had livestock to tend to, so I sought grassy places on which to put my picket line and let my three ponies graze each morning and enjoy some sunshine. The rest of the time they lived in the truck. Hay mangers were rigged inside with cross ties so they could live just like in the barn back at Hugo.

I had to be one of the first ones at the building each day when school let out, to get my celetex floor in the gym. Because of this, my truck was typically parked next to one of the gym doors. First, I would carry all the pieces of Celetex sheeting inside and arrange them on the floor. This was then covered by the prop crew with the ring mat. The ring curb was then added along with the lighting, sound, and props for the rest of the acts.

The experience of working the rookie pony act on a gym floor each day had one attractive aspect when, one day Tex decided to jump out of the ring. In his defiant scramble for freedom he discovered the floor was slick, and that he had no control. In the midst of his forward momentum outside of the ring, he lost footing and fell to his butt sliding into a pile of props. Gently, I stopped the other two and went to get Tex, kindly guiding him back into the ring. He never jumped out of the ring again.

Aerial acts that enjoyed the ease of existing rigging in the big top had a different challenge here. On a daily basis they had to find suitable places in the ceiling or rafters to secure their rigging. Doing this rigging overhead was a daily challenge dependant on whatever opportunity existed. Because we set up when school let out, last minute preparations were still taking place as the first show crowd arrived.

Once the ring was ready, the time came to primp and groom these pretty yellow ponies and get them ready for the show. This activity took place in the truck along with the harnessing. Horses really are wonderful animals. I remain impressed with their willingness. I had a concern about the ponies pooping while we were in the building, something that would be both inconvenient and embarrassing. Other circus animals were conditioned to poop prior to performing. I learned about a way to promote their bowel movement for the sake of cleanliness and adopted this technique at the beginning of my tour.

The harnessing procedure prior to each performance began with laying the apparatus across the back of one of the ponies. All of the features of the harness were then convenient. The headstall was hung on one of the check reins, martingale on the other, and the back band that lead to the crupper hung alongside the kidney drops. The first step was to lift the tail and carefully put the crupper in place. Then the girth is secured by reaching underneath and grasping the belly band and threading the strap through the buckle and pulling it tight. At this point, early in the tour, I took an eyedropper filled with mineral oil, inserted and squirted the contents into the anus. Soon thereafter, the bowels promoted elimination right there in the truck. I only had to do this procedure for four days in a row to condition the desired response. From that point on, all I had to do was lay the harness on their back and they knew it was time to poop

I was not needed to play the drums here on this show because Colonel Bill Voorheis was the drummer. On a tent show I could listen for the music going on and by recognizing the tune, know which act was taking place. Now on this show, the music was contained within the walls of the gymnasium, so a quick hike to peek in the side door was required. When I knew what portion of the show was going on, I could be ready in time for my turn to go in and perform.

When the time loomed near for my act and the ponies were ready and standing in the truck, I would quickly change into my costume. I wore straight leg, vertical stripe, high waist tuxedo pants with boots. This combination accentuated my height and made the ponies look smaller. A ruffled tuxedo shirt with bow tie and a jacket with claw hammer tails completed the look. I would grab my pointer whip and lash whip and guide each pony down the ramp from the truck, one at a time. Soon I was standing next to the building, ready to go on with three palomino ponies with red leather harness and feather plumes at my side, hooked together with come-alongs. When the whistle blew and the door was opened, our entrance promoted oohs and aahs from all in attendance. The quick paced animal presentation provided contrast from all the other acts that were predominantly performing people accomplishing a variety of athletic, balance and dexterity feats. All the other acts except one.

A man with a clean converted bread truck with an eight ball mounted on the front and a travel trailer hooked on behind had a baby elephant and three kids. When he entered the gymnasium with baby “Tika,” accompanied by his gorgeous red-head daughter, this elephant was on her hind legs, walking towards the ring prior to their entertaining routine. Since Smokey and I had the only performing animals on the show, aside from a magician with poodles in his act, I naturally gravitated towards this man and his enterprise. I was to find, not only a common interest of animal training that became a passionate topic of discussion between us but also access to the foundation of his personal philosophy that would positively imprint my soul.

April 25, 2025

Opening Time

The daily routine of liberty pony training in winter quarters at the fairgrounds in Hugo, Oklahoma by this time included my being in the ring, working the three ponies proficiently with just a few weeks until the time arrived to go open with a circus. The final step, prior to this opening was to get the ponies “crowd broke,” or used to the noise, music and the applause they would experience at the show. During our training sessions, Bob clanged trashcan lids, played a record player and created other distractions in the barn while I worked them. This was in an effort to introduce them to working amidst chaos and disruption, but nothing would get them used to the real thing.

As the time came to think about the new season, Bob did his best to prepare me mentally for what to expect when I began performing in an actual ring on a real show. As I continued accumulating my understanding, Bob explained to me that the horse trainer actually wants the animal to make every conceivable mistake. It is during guiding the pony through these mistakes into the behavior that is desired, that the pony learns thoroughly. He told me that the first time a colored circus balloon would land in the ring; the ponies would probably be so terrified that they may bolt out of the ring. He went on to tell me that I would have to remain calm and guide them through all these circumstances because every conceivable thing that can go wrong will go wrong and with each episode I had an opportunity to teach my steeds again. Little did I know that all of these stories, the coaching and the encouragement would not completely prepare me for what was actually going to happen and that as a perfectionist dealing with the immense variety of combinations of mistakes possible, I had created a future with a cacophony of confusion, blunder opportunities and a performing career with industrial strength frustration.

I made a deal with Jimmy Silverlake to present my 3 pony act on his circus. He had left the family and launched a show called Lewis Bros circus with a partner the previous year. Now as the sole proprietor of his own circus, he was willing to give me a position where I could present my unproven act. Typically special consideration is given to a rookie animal act due to the training that will continue as the animals settle into their routine. With a green act and no truck to haul the ponies, I also needed a situation where I could expose these rookie ponies to the pandemonium of working in front of an audience and also have a place for them to ride. Jimmy had room in one of the show trucks for the livestock. Additional preparations were taking place at winter quarters for the upcoming season and he appreciated my other talents being available prior to opening.

In the spring I moved my camper, ponies and calliope trailer from Hugo to Medora. I was welcomed again to the Silverlake family winter quarters I was already familiar with from my Clark & Walters and Fisher Bros Circus days. My abilities as a fabricator and sign painter kicked into high gear, as we made many final preparations and I decorated his fleet.

The Barnes & Daily Circus opened in the spring of the year in a nearby small town in southern Indiana. I put up the small tent purchased from Buzz Barton as a stable and provided many other skills for the two inaugural performances. Perhaps, as a hint of the unpredictability to come, I had a rude awakening the next morning. Although the show was torn down and loaded, the location where I had the ponies stabled was in a low lying area on the lot. After a late night rain and resulting flash flood, my ponies were standing in knee deep water. After sloshing through the water to rescue and load the ponies in the elephant trailer and tear down the little tent, our 1974 season began in earnest.

The series of one day stands began their relentless rhythm and each day ran a little more smoothly. Our tour opened in southern Indiana and the route took us north through farm country to Michigan. The show was a testimony of efficiency, designed by a man who knew how to move a circus. Traveling on three trucks and trailers, the big top was a bale ring top, as opposed to the push pole tents of previous shows. That meant the poles went up first and the canvas was hoisted up the poles. This method of handling the canvas makes it last much longer. This circus was conceived, built and created by the brother of my original mentor, and was clearly a clean, efficient, attractive, and in my opinion, the neatest little circus anywhere.

Each day on a new grass lot, I put the ponies out on the picket line and would turn frail Teddy loose, as he would just hang around the others anyway. Little children gravitated to his peaceful presence and enjoyed petting him on the circus lot. Although too weak for any other role, Teddy remained as our loved mascot. Anyway, three green liberty ponies was a manageable size group for a novice to handle.

Soon the pattern of having the ponies on display in their little stable/tent on the midway, along with my Calliope, added to the visual appearance on the lot. I played the calliope before each show as a preamble to the performance, and for the “blow off” (when the patrons leave when the show is over.) I played old time tunes like “Daisy Daisy” and “Bicycle Built for Two” in the afternoon prior and between shows. While the ponies were in this situation, I observed the animal’s magnetism and the kind air that the patrons enjoyed. Through this exposure to the public, the ponies developed acceptance, tolerance and love for our audiences.

Inside the big top, my pickup truck with the drums bandstand was backed into the tent alongside another calliope. Bobby Green provided the music having migrated from the defunct Clark & Walters. Also here, Dot and Sonny Burdett added a touch of class to the show with their presence. Sonny always dressed to the tee assisting his tall lovely wife with her rolling globe act in the show. Billy Griffin worked in the office and dressed as a clown for the performances. Marilyn, Jim’s wife, performed aerial web and ladder.

I learned as a child that even an ideal social environment is complicated. Around a circus, egos get fed by the ongoing approval of the crowd. The narcissistic element that is inside all of us sometimes gets inflated beyond its intended purpose. Blind to the origins, sometimes tension develops between personalities. Egos clash. Without interruption or intervention, the caustic condition infects others, sides are taken and chaos reigns.

On a circus there are seasons when the personnel combine seamlessly to form a team that works well together and the experience along the entire route is heavenly. Then there are seasons where individual agendas take precedence over what is best for the show. Bickering and back stabbing take on a life of their own, resulting in an unhealthy experience. With the sincere attitude of regard present in the personality of Jim Silverlake, his pleasant, altruistic mindset radiated outwards to influence others and prevail on our show. That season came quite close to what may qualify as heaven on earth.

Needless to say, at the beginning of this tour, I went through a major learning curve. The pony act, although pretty, with animals the color of a shiny new penny, with contrasting red leather harness and feather plumes, suffered visually when a mistake occurred and I became clearly frustrated and it showed. I was to learn that among the skills appropriate to develop in my new role as an animal trainer was to mix acting along with training, as I guided the ponies through each mistake. Visible frustration was clearly not received well by the audience. The procedure of correcting an animal in the public eye needed some shiny gloss and a fixed smile. With some encouragement from the circus owner, I began to learn finesse. I became quick to maintain my smile, loving radiance, and kept my discipline discreet. As the weeks went by, the ponies caught on, becoming consistent each time we performed, and I could concentrate more on the acting, presentation and connecting with the audience during the act.

A few weeks into the season the dreaded balloon I had been forewarned about finally did drift into the ring during the act. I watched in horror as the lead pony “Buttons” went up to it and sniffed it. His response was to jump over it and resume the routine. I was surprised and so proud of him. The other two ponies “Buster” and Tex” concentrated their attention on following and doing whatever “Buttons” did, so although they shied away, they didn’t think much of the balloon either. What a relief.

The circus wandered north, criss-crossing the state I was already familiar with due to my first two seasons on the road. At one stop in a very picturesque town on Lake Michigan called Harbor Springs, I took a walk into town to enjoy the splendor of the quaint old vacation homes, tree and streetlight lined avenues and the beautiful natural setting overlooking the water. On the return hike through this utopia, I found a path that went through the woods. The natural beauty of these surroundings elevated my emotions to an unprecedented height of gratitude. Around each turn on the path, my feelings took flight.

The quiet nature walk among fernish greenery and chirping wildlife allowed me to find a secret place within that promoted a peace, oneness and joy. As if in a dream, around the final turn that lead out of the woods, I found a lush grassy field with a pretty little circus set up in the middle. This lovely picture remains unforgettable in my mind. The one ring, two pole big top with flags flying, an appropriate sized marquee to welcome the patrons in front of it, and the highly decorated trucks and travel trailers efficiently arranged around the lot made a pretty picture. I walked into this scene and four little yellow ponies looked up at me from their picket line in the grass.

This was a jewel of a show, the masterpiece of a man who, not only knew the logistics of how to properly put a show up and down each day, but how to load equipment efficiently on a minimum of trucks. As a finishing touch on the lot and to add an interesting feature, my calliope trailer and ponies were situated at the outside edge of the midway to greet the patrons as they arrived each day. As the rhythm of up and down each day combined seamlessly with the pleasant attitudes of the personnel, a feeling of oneness grew inside me. I was truly proud to be part of this show while simultaneously entering a new chapter in my life, and some of the best artwork created to date was on this fleet. I felt that this must be what is referred to as the piece de resistance or quite possibly the “magnum opus” of circusdom. As the season progressed, I thought; what could go wrong?

April 15, 2025

A New Role

The observation of the liberty horse training process and my role as assistant each morning in the dusty ring barn at the Hugo fairgrounds as Bob Grubb trained my liberty pony act during the winter of 1973-74 proved to be a valuable prerequisite to not only understanding this performing art form but would also benefit relationship skills in other arenas. After only six weeks, the pony act was complete to the point that I was ready to assume my training to learn working them in the ring.

Out of the original ponies brought to Hugo, four began the training process and three worked out nicely. One pony appeared similar to the others in the first batch purchased for my circus act but by the time he was a yearling he hadn’t grown into a picture of health. Bob recognized some aptitude when the training of each individual began but when they were combined into a group of four, little Teddy didn’t have the energy to keep up with the rest of the group that lapped and ran into him from behind. Teddy proved to be too frail and without the energy to keep up with the rest. His training was discontinued even though he was willing. Something in his eyes communicated the desire that existed in his heart. He wanted to participate but because he seemed frail we discontinued using him in the training for the act. In the midst of this daily routine, a man came to see me. Manual King invited me to go with him and eat a meal at Vets Café downtown. While we ate, I learned that he had a snake show that toured with Carson and Barnes circus and that he wanted an elaborate front painted on it. I was already busy with my pony act so he had to so some real talking to get me interested in going with him to his winter quarters near Houston in Pearland, Texas to tackle this project. The only time I could fit an undertaking like this into my schedule was immediately, over the upcoming Christmas holidays. Manuel, who had a golden, persuasive voice and a beaming personality made the proposition attractive to me. Soon thereafter, with a minimum of painting supplies and my bag packed, I rode with him and his family on the long trip to his home. On the trip I learned that Manuel’s claim to fame was being the youngest lion trainer of all time, starting as an eight year old performer on his father’s circus. His father also imported animals and performers to America and Manuel still recruited acts for Carson & Barnes Circus from Mexico.

When we got to his home, I found the snake show set up in his backyard. As we looked it over, Manuel shared an embryonic idea for me to develop. There was no hesitation. Although I had never tackled such a massive undertaking in my life before, confidence carried me forward making up for the void of lack of experience. I dreamt up my concept, drew a sketch that was met with his approval, and over the successive days, the themed front began to materialize as my brush did its magic. “Princess Xochile” the Aztec Goddess was soon pictured alongside the title of the show. The central image was the scene of an Aztec pyramid being squeezed by an enormous python. While working on this project, I was made part of the family. Due to my being with them over the holidays, I was introduced to a new tradition; the Mexican style of Christmas. Special foods, customs, lots of tamales and other ethnic specialties filled these days with a new experience. This was my first Christmas away from my family and the tradition I had grown up with. This exposure was rich. The love, excitement and delicious abundance that abounded in their home remain a cherished memory. After the holidays, with the show front complete, Manuel gave me a ride back to Hugo. Then it was time to resume learning my act. Back in Hugo, the daily morning repetition became a consistent routine with the ponies, something that would remain constant from this point on as I morphed into my role for the road. My afternoons were free and the nearby winter quarters of Carson & Barnes Circus received a positive report from Manuel and also became interested in my ability as an artist. They brought me their office trailer for extensive decoration. I laid out and painted the shows masthead and extensive scrollwork on the exterior, and near the office windows, painted diagrams of the interior of the big top on either side along with the ticket prices. As the spring of the year loomed on the horizon, my days became full of preparations for the season ahead but with my new liberty act there was still much to do. In true show business fashion, the season opening occurs before being completely ready.

March 13, 2025

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.

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.

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.