horse training – Letterfly Writes

March 13, 2026March 6, 2026

Circus Vargas

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 12, 2026March 6, 2026

The Adventure of a Lifetime

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 11, 2026March 6, 2026

The County Fair

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 10, 2026March 6, 2026

The First VW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 9, 2026March 6, 2026

The Great Chalkmarksman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

February 6, 2026

Seeing the World

During the season of 1976, I began to have additional opportunities to study my surroundings. Unscheduled retreats to peruse picturesque places occurred while I waited for tire repairs. And later, when the structural features of my trailer began to break, welding repairs. The year unfolded to become a series of leap-frogs from show towns to repair places, and then back to the show. As the result, I am not of the contention that the best way to see the world is while traveling on a circus.

It is true that the entire troupe of a big top circus doing one-day stands is involved with canvassing a large area but while doing so, they remain involved in accomplishing repetitive tasks that often require being surrounded by the same environment each day. Sort of like the potato peeling navy man sailing the seven seas.

One jump across the vast grain belt area of Saskatchewan, I had a concern about my fuel and thought perhaps I could make it to the next community with a fuel stop. Wrong. As I coasted to a stop alongside the long straight road that sliced through vast grain fields that stretched toward both horizons, I had an opportunity to truly study this broad country.

Once the noise of the engine stopped, I was immersed in silence. The first thing I noticed as I scanned my situation was the feel of the gentle breeze massaging the pale jade young crop in the field. As I walked around the rig, I saw wild flowers hugging the only surface not commanded by farmer or highway.

The sky was large and had a mauve tone close to the horizon even though the sun was well up. Off in the distance I saw a miniscule motion that piqued my interest. As my attention zeroed in on this activity, I saw a large tractor pulling an even larger device designed to cultivate a huge swath as it passed over a section of land. While watching, I saw it go a tremendous distance and made a U-turn to travel parallel to the area just covered. I was then able to predict where the giant device would be going next.

I watched his long slow dance across the field and reviewed my options. I was inspired. I started a long walk, stepping over the rows of young plants and headed for the middle of the field where I predicted the farmer would pass. As the place where our paths would cross loomed closer, the driver saw me and when convenient for him, stopped that massive machine.

Double sets of high ridged tires stood higher than me. The driver had to exit the glassed-in cab and descend the steps that hung between the tires to get to where he could greet me. I told him about my predicament that seemed almost self-explanatory anyway and he laughed. He pointed towards the far end of the field where his pickup was parked. He would retrieve the gas can inside and fetch it to me on the return pass.

Standing in the field, I watched as the massive machine resumed its task of pulling an enormous device over, but not harming any plants, and considered my rig now off in the distance. A beautiful rig that now seemed tiny, dependent on my consistent maintenance. Yes, this was the way to see Canada.

On the return pass, my friendly host brought me a gas can with fuel inside that soon rocked my engine back to life. I drove forward to the lane where his farm truck waited and placed the can in the back. I was then able to continue my trip. From that intimate peek at this facet of a wonderful land, I resumed the juggernaut of activity that yielded entertainment for the people my rescuer probably knew.

November 26, 2024

Bigger Better Brighter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 22, 2023

Corn Country Show Biz

The Circus Hall of Fame was situated on the one-time home of several touring railroad circuses. Many artifacts remain from the historic winter quarters of this large circus conglomeration that resided here a hundred years ago. A circus fan aspired to make this a tourist attraction. He wanted live circus attractions among the old wagons and artifacts. A big top was erected next to the last of the remaining barns that at one time housed the animals. Another barn housed wagons, costumes, and had a sail loft where canvas production used to take place.

Now, a handful of performers were employed each summer to provide two shows a day. The single location for the summer meant a vacation from the travel regimen I was used to. I liked the idea of having a stationary place to work my performing animals but from the get-go, I discovered that the momentum and function of this place was fractured and would probably remain so through to the end.

By this time my animals had solid routines. I had appropriate costumes, clever choreography, patter and pratfalls. The mule act developed into a fun act that required the participation of the announcer as a straight man to support the comedy with the lines that I had written.

With rehearsal appropriate, John Fugate, the ringmaster, deflected my request by declaring, “We are all professionals here. We don’t need to rehearse.”

We entered into our performing regimen of two shows a day with John fuddling his lines as he read off index cards in front of the audience. The plethora of mistakes he produced proved frustrating to me as he missed crucial parts of the comedy. Fortunately, the high school horse act did not require his participation.

With the use of a live organist, I developed an interesting interlude for the middle of the horse act. After the first two segments of the routine and after the bow, I assumed a striking pose in the middle of the ring to acknowledge the audience. The announcer then invited everyone to participate.

“Please join Souveran the horse as he high-steps to the music,” John bellowed, “clap along as he dances for you.”

As the musical strains of the Mexican Hat Dance began, I had Sir walk sideways a few steps and at the right moment in the song, had him do a double leg extension coordinated to the music which prompted the audience to clap two times. Then, as the music resumed, we walked sideways the other direction and did it again. This was repeated four times to complete the stanza that resulted in a logical conclusion and good reception.

The conclusion of the act was next. By this time in his career a few elevated strides of the high trot occurred, followed by our now consistent canter work. After his halt at the front of the ring we bowed.

With the concluding announcement complete, we backed through the center of the ring. In front of the curtain at the back of the ring, we took another bow prior to our exit. In spite of the constant bumbling of the ringmaster, the grassy venue, permanent stables and luxury of two shows a day all summer, I had a wonderful opportunity to perform and enjoy my animals.

Some of the personnel at this place, starting with the director, were hopeless. They were retired fans who wore clown faces and had no clue about this culture. In spite of their pathetic contribution they still wanted to be treated like stars. The elephant guy seemed to resent being here. He had inherited an elephant from his father along with a couple of camels. In contrast to the exact efforts of most animal caretakers, his work ethic was sloppy. The elephant got loose one night and walked over to the water faucet and turned it on. In the morning the entire floor of the barn including my horse and mule stalls was flooded. I didn’t do anything wrong but I had to shovel out the mess his elephant created. He never did apologize or offer to provide replacement shavings. He just moped. He didn’t like anything about taking care of animals.

Late that summer his wife and daughter joined him. Little Dallas fell in love with my horse. She hung around and offered to help me groom him. I’d lift her up onto his back so she could brush his mane.

Often times after my act she waited by the back door. She knew after I dismounted, she could sit on him and get a ride while I lead him back to the barn.

Not everyone at the Circus Hall of Fame was dysfunctional. Circus animal training greats Vince and Pom Pom were here with their collection of tigers. The steady pace of loving animal care provided the heartbeat in the backyard. We were all used to the hectic pace of travel and one day stands. With ample time here for the summer, we all found extra activities to keep ourselves busy. Michelangelo Nock was here and his enthusiasm was infectious. Having grown up in this business, he displayed a flexibility and a regard for others that helped ease any tension that occurred.

I had spare time each evening and sought to develop new skills. I hired a tutor to teach me computer skills. I went into town to make friends. I went to AA meetings. My life had changed as the result and I now had nine years sober.

One Sunday morning I met a great guy at the Presbyterian Church and began to attend the weekly Lions Club meetings with him. Tom was amazed that I performed with my dancing horse and comedy mule act at the Circus Hall of Fame for the summer.

The Lions Club of Peru, Indiana met in the banquet room at a local restaurant every Thursday. During those meetings they searched for ways to benefit the community. I attended as a guest of my new friend Tom.

Among the activities at the meeting were sending encouraging notes in greeting cards for people we didn’t even know. Each member received three cards and three envelopes. A notebook with names and addresses of unfortunates were passed around for us to copy from. There were also announcements about others in unfortunate circumstances who would benefit from our encouragement.

During those weekly meetings the Lions considered new ideas to benefit others. When an assisted living home for those suffering from terminal medical conditions came up, they discussed possibilities. I had an idea. I volunteered to bring Betty the mule and perform for them. The plan was to work my comedy mule act for the assembled patients outside on the lawn and then take the mule inside and visit patients who couldn’t leave their rooms.

The Lions Club members welcomed this idea. This created a stir with most of the club except one, a curmudgeon who seemed grumpy about everything. Harold scowled at the idea.

The rest of the group asked about doing this little show and made a list of what was needed. Soon volunteers came up with a P.A. system, wooden stakes and ribbon to cordon off a ring area. They made plans to coordinate this event with the personnel at the facility and one member acquired a stock trailer to move Betty. This activity fit into my schedule after the matinee on an upcoming Sunday.

The entire club rallied to make this work. On show day several men arrived early to stake off a circular area for the ring and stretched boundary ribbon around the circle. They acquired chairs for the patients who could walk. My friend Tom became the announcer. He learned the lines of the straight man to support the comedy. On show day he became acquainted with the P.A. system while I showed Betty the venue.

Other club members went inside the facility to get our audience. They pushed patients in wheelchairs outside and onto the grass to completely surround the ring. When our audience was intact, we began our show.

Tom the ringmaster began with his introduction, “Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you here today to our little show.”

“Introducing at this time,” Tom bellowed, “direct from California gold mining country, here to launch their career in show business, please welcome Gold Dust and the Old Cuss.”

I led Betty into the makeshift ring and waved at all the patients. Our routine began with liberty work. I had Betty trot around the ring, reverse direction, trot the new course a few rounds and then reverse again to a stop. Since there was no ring curb, we didn’t do the ring curb walk. Tom set the hurdle in the ring. I gave Betty the cue to lead off and she resumed running around the ring.

With the hurdle in the ring the desired response was obvious but she was trained to do otherwise. As Betty neared the hurdle she veered off and avoided the jump. I acted as if in disbelief. I feigned frustration. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. As she rounded the ring and came up to the hurdle the second time she veered away again. I acted miffed and took the whips in both hands. I bent them as if in frustration. As she neared the hurdle for the third time, I shook my finger at her and she jumped the hurdle to the delight of all in attendance. Tom was really having fun. Then just for good measure Betty rounded the ring one more time. As she neared the hurdle the fourth time, she veered around it again as if being mischievous. After I stopped her at the back of the ring, we took a bow.

Next Betty came to the center of the ring. While she stood next to me, I gestured to the audience as if I was going to have her do another trick. While I looked away from what she was doing, Betty kneeled and then laid down. While I made gestures to the audience, Tom called out to me.

“Hey Cuss,” he stated, “it looks like you may have a problem.”

I looked around and acted surprised to see the mule lying flat on the ground.

“I think she fainted,” Tom surmised.

“You are going to have to get her up,” he suggested.

I stepped away, scratched my head and acted as if thinking about what to do next.

Tom spoke up, “What are you going to do to get her out?”

I perked up as if a thought had occurred. I stepped over her, reached down and grasped one front leg and the ring on the bit in her mouth. I pulled gently. I inverted her onto her back. She soon had four legs sticking up. I straddled her while she was upside down to steady her. I took her front feet in my two hands.

“How are you going to get her out like that?” Tom asked.

“I’m going to peddle her out,” I responded and gyrated her front feet in twin circular paths as if they were bicycle pedals.

This generated a laugh especially from Tom who enjoyed every minute. I then laid her back down onto her side. I had to wait until he calmed down enough to remember his next lines.

“You’re still going to have to do something,” he blurted between laughs.

This was when I went into position next to her between her outstretched legs. I faked losing my balance, waved my arms and fell backwards over her and did a backwards somersault. This was her cue to go into the sit up position.

I got up and dusted myself off. Tom continued with the patter.

“Hey she’s sitting up,” Tom reported, “she’s sitting up.”

“Hey Cuss, she’s sitting up!” He was excited.

I scanned the situation and blurted out, “Oh no she’s not!”

“Well if she’s not sitting up, then what is she doing?”

“She’s sitting down.”

That prompted a groan from Tom and the audience.

“Cuss,” he continued, “you are going to have to do something to get her up.”

I stood at the front of the ring and scratched my head as if in thought.

“Hey Cuss, why don’t you just pull her up?” Tom wondered, “just give her a jerk.”

I went in front of her, lifted the reins up over her head and stretched them out in front of her in preparation for my next move. Two of the Lion’s club members had noisemakers and waited until my next move to add sound effects to the fun. I firmly planted my feet. Being careful to not hurt her in anyway, I exaggerated a gesture with my entire body that looked like I had given her a tremendous yank. The attempt did not produce any result.

“Give her another jerk,” Tom commanded.

I repeated my wild antic to no avail.

“And another jerk.”

I did it again.

“Another,” Tom repeated.

Nothing.

“Well Cuss, it looks like you’re the jerk.”

Tom paused for effect while he thought of another idea.

“Hey Cuss,” he continued, “why don’t you try to lift the back end up and get it even with the front?”

I resigned to this idea and shrugged my shoulders. I pondered his suggestion and moved into position behind Betty. I did a quick muscle-man pose to flex my muscles. Then I leaned over and placed my hands beneath her rump. I strained and made another gesture that coincided with the funny noise makers and a loud grunt.

“Try it again,” Tom said.

I grunted along with the funny sounds again.

“One more time”

Groan.

I limped away, stooped over, like I may have over-exerted myself. I walked clutching my back as if it were hurt.

“I guess that is not going to work,” Tom observed before he reminded me, “you are going to have to do something!”

He repeated, “you are going to have to do something to get her out of here.”.

At this time, I walked over in front of her. As if under pressure with frustrated anger, a thought came to mind. I began swinging my clenched fist in a big circle as if to hit her.

“NO! Cuss!” Tom intervened, “not that.”

I relaxed and stepped away.

“Hey Cuss,” Tom continued, “why don’t you think of something nice to say?”

I acted quizzical, as if I didn’t know what he talked about.

“You know,” he continued, “something nice. Like the magic word.”

I still acted miffed.

“You don’t know what the magic word is?” Tom spewed forth, “I bet the boys and girls know what the magic word is.”

He scanned the audience and shouted, “Don’t you?”

They responded as well as they could.

“Well what is it?” He yelled.

The crowd responded “please!”

I acted enlightened.

I moved from the position maintained throughout this portion of the act in the quadrant of her starboard side. My position in the ring was the cue for her to remain sitting. When I moved around behind her, I came into an area where she saw me with her other eye – the get-up eye. She knew to get up next but not until I gave her the cue to do so.

“On three everybody,” Tom shouted, “let’s say the magic word.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

I placed my hands together as if to pray and bent my knees in an ask gesture as everyone shouted, “Please!”

Betty got up.

I stepped in front of her as if to take all the credit as the audience applauded. My posterior in front of her was the cue to give me a nudge with her nose.

I exaggerated being nudged out of the way and then spun around to acknowledge her being there.

“Now that you have said please,” Tom continued, “why don’t you say thank you?”

I pulled out the carrot that was in my back pocket the whole time and showed it to the audience. Then I gave it to Betty. That got a big hand. When the applause subsided, Tom turned to the audience with his question.

“Have you ever seen a dancing mule?”

I picked up the whips that had laid near the back all this time and got ready to lead-off again.

“Maestro please,” Tom gestured to the man with the music machine.

The music began. I used a wonderful orchestra piece for this part of the act that started with a little dainty sequence that implied a ballerina routine.

As Betty rounded the ring, at the right place I gave her the cue to waltz. The waltz was where she turned 360 degrees in her tracks. Betty loved to waltz. We repeated the waltz movement several times until the music led up to the beginning of the crescendo portion of the orchestra movement.

I stopped her at the back of the ring and gave her the command for the hind leg walk. She stood up as straight as a candle and took careful steps that resulted in her walking from the back of the ring all the way to the front.

The music culminated in a grand conclusion as we neared the front of the ring. I let her come back down and gave her the cue to bow. With her taking a bow, I styled to the audience for applause. When I gave her the cue to come up from the bow, I stepped in front of her. That was her cue to bite the rag attached to the back of my break-away pants. As she bit that rag, I pulled the buckle that released the securing Velcro closure. I stepped forward as the pants released making it appear that she had pulled them off.

The backside of my inner costume was made to look like long underwear with the flap on the back. The flap had the words the end stitched onto them. I became frantic as if embarrassed. I moved to the center of the ring and took a wide stance with my legs apart and my backside to the audience.

I whistled. That was Betty’s cue to come running. She came right at me and put her head down and ran between my legs. She scooped me up onto her back as she went. From that position – I sat on her back and waved – we rode out of the ring.

Tom gave our concluding announcement, “ladies and gentlemen there you have it.”

“The talented and entertaining personalities brought to you direct from the California gold mines,” he bellowed, “let’s send them off with a great big round of applause.”

There was no reason to be in hurry when the act was over. Afterwards Betty and I browsed and said hello to many of the patients in wheel chairs. One lady spoke up to me.

“I’d love to pet your mule but I have M.S. and can’t move my arms.”

I guided Betty close to her and placed her head on this woman’s shoulder. Betty seemed to understand and carefully laid her head against her. The lady wept with joy. The local newspaper cameraman captured this moment in a photo that showed up in the paper.

When the act was over, our plan was to take the mule into the care facility to personally visit the patients who couldn’t come outside to see the show.

By this time the Lions had dismantled the ribbon ring and put away the sound system. The army of caretakers pushed wheelchairs back into the facility. Those able to walk went back inside after they stopped to see the mule.

The Lions club members took bags of carrots into the facility and went into each room. They gave each patient a carrot for Betty. Betty would go from room to room and get a snack at each stop. This created excitement in the place. The Lions seemed to be just as excited.

When I led Betty in through the foyer to begin going from room to room, I was stopped by a woman who wanted to chat. As I stood and answered her questions, one Lions Club member saw this friendly rapport was holding up the works. Wouldn’t you know it. It was grumpy old Harold.

“Gimme that mule,” he demanded.

I watched as Harold gently led the mule down the hallway to get started. Sure enough, they disappeared into the first room. After a few moments Betty emerged with her new friend and went into the next room.

The afternoon went well. Betty enjoyed the tour of the place and all the carrots. This became a bonding experience for all of us, especially Harold.

I received the report at the next Lions Club meeting that the patients were still talking about the day that the little mule came, did all the circus tricks for them and even visited them in their rooms.

Overall, the summer tending my stock, performing twice a day, joining the community and making progress with other areas of my life qualified as a delightful experience. Right on schedule too. The largest RV dealership in the country had made it attractive for me to be their resident artist. This opportunity was priority. The severe incompetence of the Circus Hall of Fame provided a reality check; it got the desire to perform with the circus out of my system.

June 20, 2022

A Fascinating Woman

Dorita’s farm became an oasis spring and fall for several years as the increase in mural work among the RVers provided me with abundance. The idea of developing entertaining acts with my horse and mule remained a constant dream. I valued the opportunity to work with her. I also connected with the AA community in Sarasota and began to attend services at the Unity Church.

During the day, while at her home in Sarasota, I busied myself with rehearsals and lessons to become a better horseman. In the evening, Dorita and I would share strong coffee and talk about many aspects of classic horsemanship. These discussions rocketed my understanding and appreciation of this fascinating art form. While becoming her friend, I also found out many interesting things about her personally.

Dorita Konyot was a small woman. She was physically fit her entire life with long beautiful dark hair that was unusual for a person her age. Horn-rimmed glasses accentuated the high cheeks on her almond shaped head and a large elderly nose suggested, along with her accent, European origins. While we visited with each other, she typically sat across from the table. Cigarette smoke rose lazily into loops and shapes that eventually coalesced into the haze that stained the interior of her home.

Among the stories shared were anecdotes about her friend the author of the Black Stallion. Several eight by ten photographs of her friend Walter Farley astride a silver dapple Andalusian hung on the wall over the coach. While I listened intently, I found out more about this fascinating woman.

Dorita was born on a traveling circus caravan May 18, 1922 in Talouse, France, into a family of renowned equestrians. Her Scandinavian and Hungarian lineage blended with the flavors of all the countries that made up her playground as a child. Her father was a stern and capable trainer of horses and an outstanding rider of the highest level.

At a young age, riding instruction began with the ever-watchful eye of her mother, Manya and her father Arthur, trainers and presenters of High School horses and other kinds of horse acts.

She and her brother along with mom and dad soon made the foursome astride handsome Lusitano dancing horses that entertained European audiences from the bullrings in Portugal to the major permanent and traveling circuses across Europe. Related to a larger family with connections in all aspects of show business, her relatives had even built a large successful show before the Great War (WWI) occurred and all the equipment was confiscated for the sake of the war effort.

Her story was interrupted by the sharp bark of her canine companion. Raven, a sleek and

tiny miniature pinscher wanted attention too. His animated loops around the room and back to her side provided comic relief while we sipped our strong coffee. With Raven back in her lap, she continued her story.

Talent scouts found the Konyot family shortly before WWII and her family quartet with the command of centuries old Haute E’cole horsemanship skills came to America. In 1941, they began performing for Ringling Bros Barnum & Bailey Circus. Those audiences had occasion to witness the finest dancing horses in the world.

Incidentally, Dorita as a teenager was photographed on a rearing horse and that picture found its way into the book I found at the library when I was a kid in school, just developing my fascination with the circus. The picture showed a brilliant smile at ease under a large Cossack hat astride a large horse that stood up as straight as a candlestick on its rear legs.

The family also toured with Orrin Davenports Shrine Circus and the Clyde Beatty Circus among other shows. Years later a special moment occurred when Dorita received a standing ovation at Madison Square Garden for her performance with Bouncing Bomba her American Saddlebred High School horse.

One winter in Chicago at an exclusive riding stable, the Konyots stabled their horses during the winter break. A horseman with a background in the cavalry and a reputation for brassy showmanship befriended and became a student of the Konyots. Chuck Grant took the principles of classic horsemanship learned from them to add to his repertoire. He went on to become, as he coined himself, the grandfather of American dressage.

A school teacher who had never sat on a horse was in attendance at a circus performance in Detroit. So, moved was she by the equine choreography presented by the Konyots, that she selected to make a major career change. Vi Hopkins not only began to learn classic horsemanship and pursue a lengthy career as a riding instructor but went on to begin the unification of dressage instruction in this country when she initiated the USDF Instructors Clinic at her farm in Michigan.

Dorita’s emerging talent clearly was with the training of horses and horse people. When the Disney movie The Miracle of the White Stallions brought public awareness of Austrian Lipizzan horses to the forefront, Dorita trained a group of riders to present the Quadrille, or precision routine involving eight horses and eight riders for a traveling show that took advantage of the existing frenzy. Many of these riders went on to become stars in tier own right.

Gaylord Maynard performed the hilarious routine that her father used across Europe with his almost human equine partner Chief Bearpaw. Although the comedy routine contrasts with everything classic about this equine art form, Gaylord was another testimony of the influence and talent that Dorita brought to this country.

Literally all of my riding instructors and horse trainers had been influenced by this talented family. The Konyots are credited for bringing to America the equine art form known as Dressage. Virtually everyone associated with performing horses in this country today has been influenced by Dorita and her family. Her niece is a regular contender on the US Dressage Olympic team. In my quest to become a classic performing horseman I had been on a trail that led to Dorita.

She spent the final years of her life-giving lessons in the dressage community in addition to helping circus performers who strive to improve their horsemanship skills.

December 13, 2021

The Awards Ceremony

The indoor coliseum at the fairgrounds had been converted into a banquet facility to host hundreds of circus personalities who participated in or attended the event.

Prior to the event, many couples and groups dressed to the t’s in gowns and tuxedos. When the doors opened, they made their way inside and found a place to sit at the many round tables with formal place settings. Once everyone was seated, the wait-staff served dinner.

Imitating the many famous televised awards ceremonies, this one was no different. Once the ceremony portion of this event began, legions of speakers and attractive personalities made their way up to the podium to share anecdotes about circus history and to announce the winners of each category, followed by those performers who added their rhetoric between spurts of applause.

I was seated with Tino Wallenda and his family. I had mentally prepared a brief statement for when my time came at the microphone. The owner of the Clyde Beatty Cole Bros Circus, John Pugh, who I had worked for two decades ago, was part of the duo that arrived on stage to announce the winner of the category Domestic Animal Acts.

John was short. He had to stretch to speak into the microphone. When he announced my name as the winner of the category, I rose from my seat with the Wallendas and made my way up to the stage.

As I climbed the stairs, John tried to be funny and suggest that I stop before I got to the top where I would dwarf him. His lovely assistant placed my award – a handsome medal on a neck ribbon like Olympic winners get – over my bowed head. John gave me a handshake. Then I made it up to the top of the platform. I had a brief statement prepared in my head.

“I want to thank my heavenly Father,” I began, “who made all this possible.”

“And for this wonderful horse that I have been blessed with.”

I let that sink in for a moment and then added, “and John Herriott for all his encouragement and the patient help given me.”

While I made my way back to my table, I received congratulatory gestures from many people who applauded as I went past.

My heart acknowledged a tremendous truth as I savored all that happened to get me to this place. Although life contains tragic challenges, when I move into harmony with an unseen influence and allow that power to work in my life, amazing things happen.