Tag: fiction

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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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The Same but Different

The cycle of erecting, tear down and consequent load-out of the tented city drove equipment design that had, over the decades, become a testament to efficiency, durability and simplicity. Portable cookhouse tables, easily assembled components of bleacher seating, platforms that placed an entertainer in front of and above the crowd combine with simple tent poles, stakes and rope, lots of rope. The specific way rope is used and threaded through rigging blocks were unique to the circus and the knots used to secure the guys, lash jump ropes to the poles, were a manner of hooking specific rigging up inside the tent had evolved from the era of sailing.

Using vehicles and attractions to funnel the crowd past enticements was a developed art. The showmen were masters of the science of opportunity as crowds made their way toward the big top.

I became aware of efficiency. I sought to achieve economy of motion during the daily set-up.  Each day the 20×30 tent was spread, poles unloaded and put in place and the stakes were driven. Then the tent went up and the rest of the attraction put into place.

I couldn’t keep a wrist watch working. No problem on a circus. Every day was a routine. Responsibilities drove the day. Near showtime, the activities of the concession department served as the only time piece needed. It coincided with the crowd arriving. The midway was the receiving area. With patrons present we opened the side show and the snake show up for business. For a quarter they could see the unusual attractions inside of what we called the Believe It or Not Show. The tent housed “Trigger,” a five-footed horse. We also had a five-legged cow, a midget bull, and a llama with curious ears that were another wonder of nature.

The Snake Show was in a big box truck that had a two-bunk sleeper in the front that I shared with the big top canvas boss. The large snake was kept in the back. The patrons would climb the stairs that led into the back of the truck where they would look down into a pit to see the enormous python on display. Because of the configuration this was called a pit show.

We were awakened daily just before sunrise to start the trucks and begin the trip to the next town. The big top and crew went first. I loaded the animals into the back of the elephant truck and then coiled the picket line and loaded the stakes while Melvin loaded “Dixie” the elephant. We were ready to begin our trip out of town. I rode shotgun.

We started the trip in the dark. The terrain was revealed as the morning light exposed the surrounding area. This was a special way to start each day.

The rolling countryside of southern Indiana softened gradually as we went north between flat fields. Sprouts of young crops were punctuated with barns, silos and tree shaded dwellings. The communities that had sprung up at the crossroads were our target. Each little town had similar characteristics but arranged with details in different ways. Noticing nuance became a source of fascination for my observant eye.

The days of small town mom and pop businesses of all types had impact because they exerted a personal relationship with their community. Integrity thrived. Although each day was routine, the ever-changing scenery during the jumps to the next small town revealed interesting sights, quaint communities and spectacular natural beauty. We traversed most of Michigan next.

Upon arrival at the next showgrounds, the process of laying out the big top and the arrangement of ancillary equipment had begun. Each morning, the steady rhythmic, metallic sound of sledge hammers hitting steel stakes was heard. The performer’s rigs arrived and they parked adjacent to the performer’s entrance. They had to wait for the big top to go up. While they waited, they visited with one another and the children on the show would play.

The side poles that held up the outside edge of the tent were going up and it created a bowl out of the tent. This was an opportunity for the crew to go underneath to put in the quarter poles. Dixie, the work elephant, wore a tug over her shoulders with chains attached to each side that joined behind her with a hook on the end. When needed, she was guided into position under the canvas and this hook was secured to a loop at the base of the first quarter pole. As she pulled the bottom of the pole, the canvas slowly rose into the air.

This style of setting up a tent was called push-pole. This process was repeated until all the quarter poles were in place. Thus, the elephant was part of the team. 

The cookhouse was usually set up first and by about ten o’clock, the big breakfast meal was ready to be served. The signal was then sent to come and get it. For decades, most circuses had a flag that was run to the top of the cookhouse tent to signal that the morning meal was ready. We had no flag but the shout flags up, went out all over the lot to inform those working to come and eat.

Each day became a steady rhythm of activities. Inevitable situations arose that required immediate attention and became the punctuation of the day. Mechanical breakdowns, drivers getting lost, local municipal hurdles and other uncontrollable situations threatened the rhythm of the show. 

The weather played an interesting role. Rain would render the need for a creative solution to provide comfort for the audience. It also forced other considerations during load out and could create difficulty with moving of vehicles off the lot. Wind was our least favorite.  No matter what was happening, the circus trudged forward with determination.

The circus personnel were intriguing. Traveling throughout the country with this diverse group of people provided a constant mix among ever changing situations. A feeling of family was felt in each new place. The epic tale of our traveling populous was often more interesting than the performance.

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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. 

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The Circus

“It takes courage to grow up 

and become who you really are.”

e. e. cummings

Cherry Pie

Bill imprinted his son with a love for the circus due to the experience he had as a boy. The primary reason for this fascination was the enormity of the tented city and the swiftness of moving every day by rail. Several trains brought attractions from all over the world, the infrastructure to support hundreds of people, and the venue for the audience along with an amazing number of animals.

The amount of work accomplished rapidly on the giant tented circus during the golden age of the big top, utilized many clever devices unique to the culture to facilitate these accomplishments. For those brave enough to join, in the midst of this staggering amount of work getting done every day, every new rookie was asked a question, “Do you want some cherry pie?”

Have you have ever been the greenhorn? Perhaps you remember the anguish of learning a new job, wondering “will I ever fit in?” and the struggle to learn an unfamiliar skill from a new boss. The offer of a delectable confection interrupted those distractions for a moment, and promoted a predictable response.

“Yeah!”

He next received instructions to announce this eagerness to the nearby canvas boss, menagerie superintendent, side show captain, or prop hostler overseeing part of the many set-up processes all going on at the same time. Once this eager worker announced he wanted some cherry pie, that was the inside cue to give him an additional task.

Assessing the workload, available labor and balancing progress, the boss looked around and evaluated tasks that needed additional help; driving stakes, unloading and carrying ring curb, arranging prop trunks, moving seat planks into position, or any part of the many routines going on. The expectant rookie was assigned an additional task, followed with instructions to get it done every day and at night make sure he got it loaded onto the right wagon.

This creative way of assigning specific tasks was just one of the reasons the circus was able to accomplish so much each day. The rest of the troop then had a laugh at the expense of the bewildered recruit. They welcomed him to the crew, and the tented city went up a little faster from that day forward. 

The year was 1970. I spent fourteen glorious weeks, from June until September, on the Clark and Walters Circus. The Silverlake family operation had been purchased a few years prior from a showman in Oklahoma. Brownie was the Patriarch of all things circus. As was typical with circus families, all members of the Silverlake family had an act and a specialty task. They all pitched in with the operation of the show and worked together as a team.

I was eager to learn all I could in order to become a valuable showman. Franklin taught me how to splice three strand manila rope. I learned the proper way to install a twist lock plug on the end of an electric cord from Jimmie. And Melvin showed me how to solder a damaged microphone connection. I also learned how to sew a baseball stitch to repair a hole in the big top from Jack, the canvas boss, and even how to twist a whip-popper, the special part on the end of the whip that makes the noise, among other specialties.

 Brownie had time to share stories as he took care of the animals, so I typically followed him around as his helper. I learned about his wagon show days on the M L Clark Circus when he was a boy. I remember his story about when the Mighty Haag Circus was confronted with a steep and dangerous highway grade. This is when the elephants were literally walked over the mountains through to the other side, even though the teams and wagons kept to the roads.

Brownie tutored me with the same kindness he showed the animals in his care. As a newcomer to the show, my job was to play the drums during the show to accompany the calliope music of Bobby Green.  The rest of the time I was all over the circus lot involved in a litany of creative tasks. These included the set-up, maintenance, caretaking of animals, but my creative drive found expression with paint as I lettered Tickets, Jungle Beasts, Alive and decorative accents on the rolling stock. While we toured Appalachia, they tried the cherry pie trick on me, but because I was motivated and eager, the trick was irrelevant.

That summer whet my appetite to live a more interesting life. It filled me with an enthusiasm and a decision to continue my career in show business. Returning home at the end of the summer, I took welding at night. In January, after graduating from high school early, my fascinating career began. My creative drive, ambition and gift as a painter took precedence over all else and, I began to combine being an artist with travel.