music – Letterfly Writes

May 16, 2025

My Kingdom for an Elephant

Jimmy Silverlake had created not only an efficient moving under canvas circus for season 1974, but the arrangement of canvas and other rolling components on the lot was quite pretty to look at. The image of this tented city on a grassy field conjured up awe, curiosity and intrigue, yet one element was missing. How can this be a circus without an elephant?

In the spring, Jimmy heard about an opportunity to buy an elephant from Tony Diano, a rogue that couldn’t be let off her chain. The deal came with an old rusty trailer and an antique tractor to pull it but Jimmy had room for the elephant in his animal semi. Soon the new attraction was transported to Michigan, tethered and on display, and the rig that came with her became empty. Bert Pettus became our elephant man.
       Having this large empty trailer on the show gave me the ability to pick up the remainder of my ponies from Hayes farm and get them used to traveling on the show. This meant I was tending to eleven ponies.
       Sunshiny afternoons with my ponies on their picket line proved to be a magnet for the little girls that lived in the neighborhood. I had a bucket full of brushes that I would place out near the picket line and the girls would figure it out. Get a brush and go groom a pony. The palominos loved the gentle attention and I had the livestock curried by show time.
       Later in the summer, Bert and Marie’s daughter and her family visited between shrine dates with their two appaloosa high school horses and a six pony liberty act. For the brief times they visited, we had a tremendous population of ponies on that little circus. Jack and Sandy Fulbright showed me how they tended to and performed with their ponies, accelerating my understanding of this specialty.
As the season progressed, so did the proficiency of my pony act, but the show didn’t fare well. It is never good when the circus catches up to the agent. The rhythm of one day stands became erratic, with gaps during the week when the show would lay dead for a day at first, and then more came with alarming frequency. The tour ran out of route late-summer in the Upper Peninsula, due to the lack of advance personnel. On the school grounds, where the circus played its final engagement, all the investors that had helped Jimmy launch this show arrived to divide up the assets. I had lent him some money too, but due to the hierarchy, was last in line for anything.
       Sitting dead on that final lot, the group bounced ideas back and forth for dissolution, figuring out what each one was going to get, then they had an idea.
       I heard, “give Dave the elephant.”

That prompted a flood of concerns. The surprise prompted my imagination to dream up several survival scenarios. My mind became quite busy attempting to figure out, like the rest, how I was going to begin my travels from this place. Sitting on the lot with no way of my own to haul eleven ponies and an elephant, wondering how I was going to proceed occupied my mind the entire night. I was relieved the next day, when they announced other plans had been made for the pachyderm. But this brief episode does qualify me as having the ability to claim being an elephant owner for a day.
Billy Griffin invited several of us to regroup at his family home in Princeton, Indiana. Jimmy let me use the old dilapidated bull semi to get the livestock to southern Indiana while Audrey from the cookhouse drove my pickup and camper. I had to do something to get equipped to tour with my ponies. I needed a truck. Billy helped me find a truck through the dealers he knew in the area. We found an International Loadstar in Poseyville with an eighteen-foot box that would serve quite well to carry the ponies.
       Once this rig was secure, I began the process of getting it equipped as my pony truck. I rigged up a ramp that hinged down from the side door, and fashioned mangers inside for the comfort of the ponies. The truck also needed a trailer hitch welded on the back for the calliope. I could sleep on the bunk in the trailer for now and have plenty of housing for the three ponies, hay and equipment in the truck body.
       While we camped in Princeton at Billy’s mother’s home, everyone was making changes. A clown from the show who made the trip with us lived in an old dodge van and wanted to buy my pickup with the camper. He drove his old van like a clown would, often screeching to a stop from a tight turn that gave him a thrill. The living quarters inside would be a big improvement for him, but he would have to learn how to carefully drive this top heavy vehicle.
       One at a time, the kinkers left for other digs. The clown found another show to perform on and headed that direction. Audrey planned going with Billy to south Texas. I learned about an upcoming job, a several week tour of one night stands through Michigan on a circus that performed indoors in school gymnasiums.
       I could leave seven ponies on a pasture nearby for six weeks and pick them up when my tour was over and head for Hugo. We all said our goodbyes and the headed different directions.
       At the end of this whirlwind preparation session, enroute to the school house circus tour, I took frail Teddy to Hayes house in Clarklake where he lived the remaining few weeks of his life in his backyard. I often think that celestial beings come to us disguised with hoofs. Knowing and believing this is proof enough that I was visited by an angel. Teddy blessed many children while on the circus during his brief life.
       Everything that I knew to do to be ready was done. I thanked my friend Hayes and started the trek towards Detroit, but nothing would adequately prepare me for what I would discover when I made it to the next circus.

June 6, 2024

Drummer

I was obsessed with becoming a better drummer as I began my sophomore year. I had taken lessons at Indiana University and practiced every day during the previous year.

Bloomington High School had a gifted band teacher who motivated his students to pursue music as a career. At the beginning of the year Mr. Traub placed me in the band room during an hour the classroom wasn’t being used so I could practice and he monitored my progress. He noticed my improvement and by mid-football season he started me through the ranks. I was placed in the marching band as a tenor drum player and by the beginning of the second semester I was the first- chair snare drummer for the Symphonic Wind Ensemble. This was the equivalent of joining the college orchestra.

I met Karen while in the band that year too. She was an aggressive red head. She knew what she wanted. I had been a sheltered, reclusive and socially clumsy kid. A whole new world opened to me. Karen always had something in mind and she knew exactly what to do. After school and all summer long, she taught me all physical aspects of relationship between the sexes. Eager to be with her, I would do almost whatever she wanted me to do.

This university town had no jobs for a fourteen-year-old because of the abundance of college students. It was early summer when the Deggeller Shows brought a bunch of carnival rides to the university campus for the Fun Frolic. I was there early looking for a job. Despite this not being a traveling circus, it did qualify as show business. I got a job helping set up the Merry-Go-Round, working with a man and his son with whom I became friends. Together we worked and eventually hung the last horse on the ride. We then started to assemble the kiddie rides. Unloading the specially-shaped steel components from trucks with broken bulb glass on the floor revealed an interesting contrast to the form of show biz I was familiar with. Behind the scenes, I was seeing the amusement business as it really was. Once the rides were ready, I returned home to clean the dirt and grease off of me. I was told to return the next day, so I must have done a good job.

When the festival started, I ran one of the kiddie rides. My job was to stand at the controls, welcome the patrons, and make sure they were settled into their seats before turning the switch to start the ride. If no one was waiting in line, I gave my passengers an extra-long ride. I was grateful to have employment for the week and it filled me with a feeling of accomplishment. Karen hung around while I worked, but something was clearly bothering her.

“I think it’s terrible,” she wailed, “that you work all the time.”

Her inability to empathize with the value of this opportunity combined with a feeling of frustration that grew in my gut. This strong sensation literally reached up inside me and grabbed me much like the reaction that took my voice when I watched bullies pick on my brother. Karen maintained this negativity all the time I did my job. She insisted that I take a day off and accompany her around to all the rides. Reluctantly, I did what she asked.

The next day, I explained to my boss my plans to escort her around the festival grounds instead of returning to my post. When I returned the following day, I discovered my job had been filled. I learned two valuable lessons on one day; never let them discover that they can get along without you, and career always comes before girlfriend.

While excelling at math, John learned the machine language computers spoke. At Bloomington in high school, he wrote elaborate programs using punch card sequences that would solve mathematical problems. He understood and developed a mastery of complicated systems using binary code.

My father’s climb through the ranks and his ambition with newly acquired graphic skills landed him a job in the Lutheran synod offices in downtown Chicago. The family would move again, this time to the suburbs of a sprawling metropolis. My family moved twice during my high school years. First to Bloomington, Indiana so Dad could expand his skills at Indiana University with a second Master’s Degree. Then, two years later to Chicago, Illinois so he could fill an important role downtown. He used the Airstream to move the bulk of our possessions, with the exception of the piano.

John graduated from high school as the family moved from Indiana to the Chicago suburbs. John stayed behind and began his college years at Indiana University. The students were older but still mean to John. He chose to withdraw and excel academically. He took classes for many years until exhausting the curriculum. From there he launched his career as a computer programmer.

All the summer school college students eventually went home. A short window of opportunity existed so I started looking for a job. I went into the Lucky Steer Steak House. The boss asked me if I could start immediately. He then showed me the dish room with hundreds of dirty dishes piled up to the ceiling. I started immediately. Three days later I was cooking steaks. Dad learned of and appreciated my ambition. He was busy moving the family’s belongings to Chicago with the airstream and waited for the last minute before taking me with him.

I arrived at our new home late at night and slept a few hours. The next day was my first day of school. In the morning, I was dropped off early in front of an unfamiliar school. I received my class assignments at the administration office at Arlington Heights High School. I searched up and down the hallways for the room numbers on my list, and finally gave up. I could not find them.

Not knowing which way my home was, I had no options. Frustrated, all I could do was sit down on the front steps of the school while the classes were going on. A friendly counselor saw me from a distance and came to sit down next to me to find out what was going on. He looked at my admissions card and he too realized that I had been given room numbers that did not exist. Confusion at the Chicago school system started with this debacle on my first day and spiraled down from there. As I entered my junior year, the tainted perception of my new school and surroundings bred a new-found apathy and defiance. Expecting the same positive experience that I enjoyed in band in Indiana, I soon realized that Fritz Shmoyer, the band teacher, was incompetent and simply coasting along on tenure. He was apathetic about his job and didn’t encourage any students. Because I made this comparison, I knew he was a slug and began my defiant response to his pathetic efforts.

Fortunately, John stayed in Bloomington. Paula and I were relieved that none of our new colleagues would ever know about our brother, but we found a new set of frustrations. The big city pace of suburban Chicago, the dysfunctional school system, and the beat among our fast-paced peers had its own mix that led to a new exasperation for myself and Paula.

Also fortunately, the art department at my new school was outstanding and far better than any previous art classes. Mr. Pink became an advocate for my ambitions. He encouraged my emerging skills and created many artistic opportunities for me.

March 12, 2024

Piano Lessons

As we grew, our mother began to give us piano lessons. One at a time, we strained to sit erect, hold our hands out straight over the keys, with fingers curved just right, but not look at them. We learned to read musical notes, as we performed the practice exercises and attempted to play the appropriate keys in perfect time and in rhythm. Between lessons, there was regular practice at the piano that seemed worse than torture. This routine advanced our sensitivity to sounds, coordination and our ability to sight-read. We also had deadlines for recitals held in the big music hall on campus. A foundation in music with dexterity and discipline was being established in our young minds.

After much deliberation, Paula and I found an audience with our mother. I was designated as the spokesman.

“Paula and I have both decided,” I proclaimed, “that we are no longer going to be taking piano lessons.”

Our mother paused for a moment and composed her response:

“Your father and I have both decided,” she then exclaimed, “that you are going to continue to take piano lessons.”

Our fate had been determined.

Although our mother continued to provide us with music lessons, John, not being physically coordinated enough to learn piano, became better at singing. He became a regular in the church choir and years later, he went on to enjoy singing with area barbershop quartets.

When John discovered the private world of the comic book, he found relief from his social frustrations. Superman overcame all evil. The fantasy of an unstoppable hero gave him something to believe in. John began studying and collecting ten-cent comics. He soon became an authority on the history of each character and all aspects of the subject. John found his bevy of superheroes to believe in, live vicariously through and admire.

The TV show “Batman” became an obsession for John that sometimes interfered with his other responsibilities. John was needed at choir practice on Wednesday nights and this schedule conflicted with him seeing this popular show. At the end of one cliff-hanging episode, Batman and Robin were in a pickle that there seemed to be no way out of. John could not imagine how or if they were ever going to get out of that one, and did not want to miss the next exciting episode. The following week, he waited until the show came on, watched them get out of the scrape, and then rushed to church to join the rehearsal underway. He was fifteen minutes late and received a quizzical look from mother but as he sang, he was satisfied that his heroes were safe.