horse training – Letterfly Writes

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.

December 10, 2021

The International Circus Festival

The culmination of the holidays found me at the fairgrounds in Sarasota preparing for Circus Competition. During the five performances that took place that week, every participant competed in one of several categories; aerial acts, juggling and acrobatic troupes, exotic performing animals, domestic animals, balancing acts, clowns, musicians and ringmasters. Every facet of the sawdust entertainment realm from all nations were represented.

By this time, I had a confident horse with a good work ethic. I learned on the tour earlier that year, wherever I aimed this horse, he willingly went, and when we got there, he was ready to go to work.

A year ago, I brought him here to get him used to the sights, smells and sounds. This time we were ready with an animated rehearsed routine. The rings in the mega circus tent were on grass, better footing than hockey floors. We were able to trot and canter freely. I had an admirable posture in the saddle, thanks to Vi and a spontaneous brassy attitude for whatever vicissitude should occur, thanks to Chuck. With John’s help, my routine was polished, and in front of all the critics in this business, I aspired to shine.

New red wardrobe had been created using the claw hammer tail tuxedo style jacket with strategic rhinestones sewed on for accents. When the time was right, I mounted my glistening steed. The pre-arranged musical score was provided to the brass circus band. I waited behind the backdoor curtain for my announcement before our entrance.

Finally, the preceding act reached its conclusion. The applause settled down.

After a brief pause came the booming voice “Keeping alive the timeless circus tradition of performing horses, please welcome the American Saddlebred dancing high school horse ‘Souveran’, trained and presented by Dave Knoderer.”

The curtain was thrown open. My horse became immediately animated and we floated at a trot into the ring. Our routine was accompanied by the captivating chords from the theme song of Star Wars, translated by the bevy of brass in the bandstand. A volte in either direction preceded the flawless side pass through the lateral center of the ring.

I knew that every one of the Herrmann girls of Lipizzaner horse show fame were watching and became extra light with my aids to facilitate a seamless transition from the forward to the lateral movement. At the conclusion of the trot work that opened our routine and established that we had a handle of this aspect of horsemanship, we halted at the center of the ring. I sat straight. I knew the horse knew what was next. All I had to do was signal with a muscle tension in my groin and he began to lean back. He lifted his leg as he did and came to rest on one knee. As he did so, I struck the style pose and the audience provided thunderous applause.

The most important part of this movement is the hold. Many rookie horsemen are satisfied with simply getting the pose but the horse learns to do it and bound right back up. The movement has three parts; going into the pose, holding the pose, and coming up from the pose. Knowing horse trainers were in the audience, I made sure to hold the bow for an extended amount of time just to show off the fact that we had a handle on this thing.

Next in the routine was the three-step where the horse moved forward and, at every third stride, a foreleg was elevated and extended in an exaggerated motion. Special care was necessary to not interrupt the forward momentum with too much of the aid that asked for the leg extension. Finesse is what facilitates a good three-step. The movement continued all around the ring. After one revolution, we dissected the ring from back to front and reversed direction. In this other direction we began to march, or do a leg extension every stride, all around the ring.

Special care was needed to prompt, in careful rhythm, the forward walk with a leg extension every stride. During the march I radiated a confident air and remained in contact with the crowd. The march then assumed a track through the center and toward the front of the ring where we faced the grandstand. While up against the ring curb, our proximity seemed to promote the question in the mind of the audience, what’s next? We began the double-backwards three-step, which is three backward strides and a double foreleg extension which was repeated regularly as we backed through the ring.

In the rear of the round exhibition venue the horse was already sensitized to go in reverse. I provided an invisible cue from my seat and signaled him to glue his front feet to the ground. I then coaxed him into the camel stretch or circus bow where his front feet were out front and his chest was inches off the ground. Again, timing was what allowed the public to notice his magnificence. As he held this pose like a living statue, we provided a picture of the classically trained horse and rider.

From this pose came the exciting conclusion. Beginning with the trot, the goal was an elevated leg extension at every stride. This was called the high trot and was a difficult movement that took years to do consistently. Because our training was still underway, I just asked for three strides. I got the conditions right and began to ask. For whatever reason, the response from him would either be quick or his understanding of what I asked went unnoticed. So, I asked again. When I got a few strides in a row, I discontinued asking and rewarded him with some verbal thanks for being a good boy. I had learned this from Evy Karoli in German years ago; “yo brae.”

To utilize the accumulated compulsion, a transition to canter was next. The gait traversed and went into a figure eight with a change of leads at the center of the ring. We concluded the act by cantering up to the front center to halt. We took a bow and saluted the crowd. Then, while the announcer re-introduced our names, we backed through the ring and bowed again in front of the backdoor curtain.

The act was well received, but I didn’t know just how well until later in the day. Back in my street clothes with the horse and mule bedded down. Philip Anthony rushed up to me.

“Dave, Dave!”

“You won!” he blurted out, “you’d better make plans to be at the black-tie awards banquet tomorrow night.”

December 9, 2021

Herriott Christmas

My role as circus man took me to tropical climates each winter. Warm weather and palm trees made the holiday experience feel different. Without blood family to share this festive time with, the notion of Christmas became watered down since I was on my own. I gave carrots to the livestock on this special day but the magical notion of the Christmas of my youth was over.

In the midst of preparing for my season and taking care of my livestock, I enjoyed being with and observing a special family as they prepared for the holiday. The Herriott family grew up in the active lifestyle of the circus and, like many circus families, worked and lived together in this close-knit situation. They made strong connections and built respect for one another while dedicated to specific traditions passed down from generation to generation, all of which insured they would succeed together and that the show would go on.

The regard freely exchanged in the Herriott home reflected their dedication and connection to each other and all animals. As a guest on their farm, a warm welcome was extended to me. I was invited to feast with them on special dishes prepared in abundance, join in the fun, and get to know all members of the family.

Christmas morning was another sunshiny day with ideal temperatures. Though the chores went on as usual, our customary routine was interrupted by the festive morning ritual to which I was privy. As the driveway filled with the cars and trucks of family members, warm greetings were exchanged and they gathered in the living room. In the middle of the family room was a table made from an old circus wooden spoke sunburst wagon wheel with a round piece of glass on top.

Although the gift giving didn’t involve me, in the midst of the packed living room, I witnessed the expression of joy that occurred as each gift was given and was opened. This prompted squeals of delight and feelings of elation. I enjoyed this glimpse into the life of this loving family and seeing them all behave like little children.

Soon, torn wrapping paper, ribbons and stacks of unneeded boxes littered the room. Individual attentions paired up or individuals became immersed with objects at hand. Later in the morning a meal was in order.

My favorite part of this unique Christmas experience occurred after the gifts had been exchanged, and everyone had a belly full of good food. One at a time, the daughters began to beg Johnny to “open the trunk.”

Previously unnoticed, an old trunk had a reverent location in the family room. It had been used until then as a coffee table. I had no idea what was inside but guessing from the expression on their faces, the girls all knew. They kept up their vigil. They relentlessly begged their dad to open it.

After some careful timing and using show biz suspense, John paused to make sure his decision to comply was visible to everyone. Drawn into the anticipation, I, too, became ready for whatever was in that trunk.

As John unlatched the lid, the daughters drew in close. I too had an opportunity to peer over them and see what was inside. Like a chest filled with treasure, the entire trunk was filled with old 8×10 black and white photographs of circus performers and circus scenes from long ago. The old photos, collected for generations, were the one-time standard of publicity in the circus industry since the advent of photography. Through countless contacts with hundreds of their peers this accumulation of incredible photographs became possible.

As Johnny reached inside and selected one of the old contact prints, the image sparked reminiscence and prompted a story from the archives of his memory. As the accounts unfolded, the bright reflection of glee in the eyes of the members of his family, who hung onto his every word, created in me another reason to be grateful to be included here.

We savored his anecdotes about distant relatives, performers from other famous circus families and the fantastic feats of aerialists, animal trainers, musicians, athletes, clowns and other showmen. His tales involved funny anecdotes that could only occur on a circus, or situations that evolved into gossip about so-and-so, crazy behavior, tragedy, historic moments and the amazing things that animals do. John also told us about humorous situations that occurred during the routine of performing on a daily basis on an old tent show, and the stories about the pranks these dedicated people often pulled on each other.

The afternoon slipped by all too quickly. Our attention remained filled with story after story until evening finally arrived. With great reluctance, the collective resigned to our regular duties.

As I recall the indelible sight of children gathered around this master story teller and the privilege to witness this unique and intimate peek into the life of one of America’s favorite circus families, the experience easily remains one of my all-time favorite and happiest Christmas holidays of all.

Whether you are alone this year or surrounded by the abundance of those you love, may you enjoy this special time of year and be blessed with the happiest holiday season and most special Christmas of all.

December 8, 2021

John Herriott

As I headed south toward John’s ranch, I reviewed the plan for the year ahead; maintain rigorous practice with both animal acts prior to the circus festival, compete for the first time in front of the leaders of this industry, and when complete, spend the entire winter season of January, February and March at River Ranch, the luxury RV Resort. After the winter season, I resume practice with the animals to prepare for a five-week circus tour in Canada in the spring. When the tour was complete, return to Michigan where the horse and mule spend the summer on a farm while I paint for the Elliott Amusement company. I would also attend the Blue Bird rallies I had been invited to.

I drove day and night into progressively warmer weather. My thoughts reviewed the immense privilege of working with an admirable series of animal trainers; Bob Grubb, Evy Karoly, Vi Hopkins and Chuck Grant. Now, I get to work with one of the circus greats, John Herriott.

John was born into a traveling circus family, the son of Milt Herriott, an all-around animal trainer. Milt taught his son how to train and handle elephants, horses, camels, llamas, zebras, mules, ponies and other exotic critters. John’s specialty became multiple-horse liberty acts. The Herriott’s performed on both railroad and overland touring shows such as Cole Bros. Circus, Barnes and Caruthers Olympia Circus, the Circus World Museum, Hoxie Brothers Circus, Al G. Kelly and Miller Bros. Circus and a few more. The Herriott’s became renowned in circusdom. John became effective in the circus ring presenting liberty horse acts and elephants along with other exotic lead stock. His marriage to a tall blonde from Sharon, Pennsylvania produced four daughters.

Years ago, as a teenage drummer on my first big top show, I sat in the cookhouse tent and listened to the fantastic tales that abounded. I heard one story about a family on the Hoxie Bros. Circus. They produced a beautiful display for the show that included every member of the family on a horse. All six members of the Herriott family presented talented circus horses and their display filled all three rings. They wore exquisite wardrobe and performed in unison. The concept of a family that worked in harmony with each other was foreign to me because I came from a dysfunctional family. Although I never worked on the same show with the Herriott family, years later I became acquainted with all of them at an assortment of wintertime functions in Sarasota, where many circus folks live during the off season.

The long, slow trip south allowed plenty of time to review this fascinating livelihood I had found. I came from a contemporary urban culture. As an enthusiastic teenager, I found a completely different society on the circus. Rich with tradition, I was eager to learn and assimilate all I could. My curiosity, dedication and regard opened doors into this interesting way to live one’s life. Certain unwritten rules of the circus actually interfered with being completely accepted into their society. I would always be regarded as an outsider. Regardless, I became attracted to the specialties of the highest regarded of the performers; the riders of the high school horses.

Weary of the long drive and eager to get there, late at night, the last fifty miles took me through the foggy, ghost-like, dimly lit, palm tree-lined interstate highway that threaded past Tampa. The muggy weather was in contrast to the blustery winter weather experienced at the start of this trip. A glowing luminescence on the horizon hinted at the coming dawn as I moved closer to my destination. In the early morning light, my rig found its way down familiar two-lane roads.

Upon arrival at the Herriott home the livestock was unloaded after I pulled down their long driveway. The horse and mule were happy to get out of the trailer. They had stood inside for three days. They couldn’t contain their enthusiasm as I led them through a gate to enjoy freedom and the green grass of the pasture. They kicked up their heels and frolicked at first but soon found the distraction of nourishing green grass.

I arrived at John’s home the first of December. I had plenty of time to receive coaching and rehearse the acts prior to the circus festival.

One morning, the year before, Mary Ruth asked me to go on a trip with her to ride a horse. She was considering a big saddlebred as a gift for her husband. When we got to the farm and found him banging his foot against the stall door, I had some concerns about the horse. Although I rode the horse and did just fine, Mary Ruth didn’t ask me what I thought. She made the decision to get that horse. A year had passed.

By now, John had trained his big horse to do an admirable march and passage. Our daily routine became working and training our horses together. We both prepared for the International Circus Festival competition which would commence shortly after the holidays.

The result of our intense training would be that these animals would work well.

Standard procedure for living with circus animals is: the animals come first. First on the agenda, while they were out on pasture, was to rig up two tie-stalls underneath the lean-to on the outside of John’s barn. John took me to the building supply salvage yard. I bought three sheets of used plywood – gray from the weather – and three fence posts. At one end of the lean-to, in an assigned area, I planted the posts in the ground and secured the plywood between the barn wall and the posts. I now had two tie-stalls. Rings were also installed to hang water, feed buckets and hay bags. I parked the trailer in the lineup of other equipment, hooked up my water and lights, settled into my living quarters and got some rest. Later in the day, the livestock were introduced to their new stalls, fed, and bedded down.

The activities began on the Herriott ranch early every morning. John had an eight-horse liberty act in training, a big Clydesdale and a little pony that did a big and little act, Henry, the miniature donkey and the big saddlebred he named American Jubilee.

Soon, my daily routine harmonized with all the activity at the ranch. This let me maximize on the opportunity to learn as I watched all the training taking place. When my turn came to use the ring, I rehearsed my acts in the round pen, the same size as a circus ring. I choreographed my horses’ movements into a sequence that would become the routine I use at the circus festival. I also ran Betty the mule through her routine.

After the morning feed and muck-out detail and the training sessions were complete, we had fun. John and I both had a saddlebred horse to ride. We saddled up our handsome sorrels and rode them up and down the driveway. We asked our horses for various movements and gave them exercise in the warm Florida sunshine.

When it came to the march, his horse A. J. had an amazing reach I envied. We worked on achieving finesse with our cues and encouraged each other with our progress.

The routine with Betty the mule became a comedy act with me acting like an old prospector. This act was an expanded January act, a routine that appeared as if the animal was outsmarting the trainer with a liberty routine combined. I had been composing patter to support the premise of my mule appearing to defy all my requests. I kept having ideas for more comedy to include and in this environment with John, opportunities for additional inspiration were rich.

One day I asked John, “how would a guy go about putting a hind-leg walk on that little mule?”

John thought for a moment and replied, “I think I would check her down good and tight. Then slap her on the side of the neck and see what happens.”

When I did exactly as he suggested, my mule stood on her hindlegs as upright as a candlestick.

Now that Betty had the idea, I began to develop her hind-leg walk.

As John’s season loomed, he had an idea that would benefit me. He referred me to the idea of meeting Dorita Konyot, a local retired performer and horse trainer whose family brought Dressage to this country. He knew I would receive the advanced riding instruction I sought from her.

The weeks passed. Each day was productive. The bond between us grew. I was able to share tidbits accumulated from experiences with trainers in Michigan and John shared aspects he learned from his father. We enjoyed mutual improvement with our high school horses and our time together.

With each day, a heightened anticipation grew among his family members due to the upcoming holidays. His daughters, now mature circus performers, had husbands and kids of their own. They came from all over to visit to John and Mary Ruth. Soon his family activities included decor and treat preparation as the ladies transformed their home into a fantasyland of holiday happiness and joy.

My dad loved Christmas. Growing up in Ohio, I was familiar with the standard holiday tradition of colored lights on the house, a layer of white snow outside, carolers singing on the front doorstep, special cookies, hot chocolate and the excitement of Santa bringing gifts. The family Christmas morning of my youth was a magical time with plenty of gifts and excitement, now just a memory. In adulthood, Christmas became just another day. Here at the Herriott household I was about to experience a special holiday.

August 4, 2021

Gold Leaf on Glass

Dale was the owner of two restaurant/bars called The Hunt Club in both Jackson and Hillsdale. He wanted gold leaf signs on the large glass windows at each store, plus a gold leaf name on the glass at his office connected to his airplane hangar at the airport.

For centuries, gold lettering and ornamentation on a glass window was utilized by upper echelon businesses and was considered the epitome of the sign makers craft. Dale commissioned me to accomplish three gold leaf window jobs.

The explanation of why gold sticks successfully to glass remains a mystery. The technique used for centuries utilized heated water with a single gelatin capsule dissolved into it. This mixture was flooded over clean glass and while wet, special handling occurred to lay the leaf against the wet glass. The first part of the procedure was to completely cover the area to receive the sign work with many 3-3/8-inch squares of gold leaf. The window then sported a quilt-like pattern of overlapped gold squares. As the water evaporated, the gold was sucked tightly onto the surface of the glass and a mirror-like effect resulted.

To prevent the delicate metal from wearing off, the gold was backed up with paint only on areas where the gold remained for the design. This part of the process involved delicate brush work. The lettering and ornamental designs were all painted backwards on the inside of the glass and acted as a protective layer over the gold. The excess gold was removed later with another delicate process involving a mild abrasive.

Achieving the level of proficiency with this particular technique of the sign makers craft elevated my standing in the community. My goal had been to become the best. With these three jobs – what became my final three jobs as sign man in Jackson – I had achieved my goal, albeit with a broken heart, having been rejected by Gail once again. With these jobs complete, I made the remaining preparations to go to Florida. At the stable, I loaded the livestock, hooked the VW bus on the back of the rig, and headed south. There was no sense waiting.

The snow had begun to fall. Every hundred miles provided an improvement in the weather. I had a busy time ahead of me.

I didn’t know it at the time but God had a different plan for my life. Even before I arrived in Florida, I discovered a segue that would rocket me into the next chapter of my life.

December 25, 2019

Hugo, Oklahoma

Hugo, Oklahoma

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

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

We rigged tie-stalls for the comfort of the ponies along one side of the ring barn and parked my camper and trailer nearby. Anticipating this project, Bob had his ring curb already installed in the central area of the barn. He was eager to begin training. We quickly adopted a routine. After chores and breakfast every morning, training took place.

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

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

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

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

Repetition teaches. The sessions were at the same time each day, every day of the week except Sunday. The result of this consistency was a tremendous amount of progress in a short time. The correct response was also fortified with another form of reward. When they did a great job, he would often simply end the session. The understanding each equine accumulated soon proved Bob’s technique as being effective. Those hours of observing the tedious training process would prove valuable when my turn came to do the training.

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

Another important response to establish with each animal is to halt whenever asked. This is especially important if the horse should become rattled, because from a halt, the trainer has a chance to personally connect, calm down and reassure the horse. Sometimes I couldn’t believe it. Here I was in a dusty ring barn with aspirations of glamour and excitement, taking Functional Relations 101 from an old cowboy. Learning these functional strategies would prove helpful in other arenas later in life.

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

As I look back, I realize the ponies were God sent, and an opportunity for this teenager to become functionally relational in the midst of being intensely emotional, perfectionistic and self-sufficient. Ponies don’t understand anger and erratic behavior. Representational communication means nothing to them. Progress was made with kindness. The ponies forced me to become functional, aware and consistent with my behavior. This must be the source of the term having horse sense. The animals learn through intentional repetition and functional consistency. For the sake of becoming a good horseman, I modified my behavior around them. Even though with people I remained reluctant, isolated and often frustrated and angry. Over time, my role as a pony trainer became a segue that facilitated finding connectedness with others.