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.
Letterfly Writes 