My Favorite Circus or Showbiz Story:

(I wrote this in October 2009 and originally posted it on my page on the site, "Follow The Arrows" -

http://followthearrows.ning.com).

My favorite circus memory, after meeting my wife, Nini, happened in Chicago in October, 1976 at the old iron and glass arena near the old stockyards.
We'd played there some weeks already - the weather usually cloudy, chilly, and damp.
It was a Saturday morning show - too early in the morning that day. I wasn't feeling well - tired, lonesome, a little sad... just feeling down.
I dry shaved that morning, and my skin reminded me of its objection to that as I applied my clown makeup. I had a bit of a headache from trying to rinse out the blues the night before. Even pie car coffee couldn't wash the bad taste out of my mouth. Brother, I was feeling sorry for myself!
I was doing meet and greet on the track floor as our guests came filing in along the rope fence by the track as they made their way to their seats.
I was doing my best to put my heart into it, but my heart just wasn't cooperating.
Then I heard a small, clear little voice calling out, "Clown! Clown!", with the rise and fall tone of one trying to get my attention.
I turned to my left, and saw running down the track toward me a little cherub of a girl no more than five years old - running with just a remnant of 'toddle' in her gait. She looked like a little doll - little chubby legs with white ankle socks and black patent shoes, frilly dress, navy coat that gathered at the waist, a beaming round face with the biggest of toothy smiles and such bright eyes and big ringlets of auburn curly hair.
Following at a trot several paces behind her was her mother, a well dressed, handsome, willowy woman with a flustered and embarrassed look on her face.
As the little girl got close, she raised up both her arms signaling she wanted me to catch her and pick her up in my arms - which I did without even thinking about it.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeeeeeezed with a big hug, and then leaned back with her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes and said, "I love you, clown!".
I was stunned and I could just get out the words,
"I love you, too, sweetheart."
She kissed my cheek and then got down - and she skipped stepped over to her mother and took her hand, walking away to find their seats.
As she went with her mother, I saw her looking up at her with a thoroughly happy expression, and telling her, "I talked with the clown, mama! I talked with the clown!"
Up the bleacher stairs they went, and I just stood there, arms at my sides, just watching them until I couldn't see them any more.
I heard a collective and soft, "Awwwwwwwwww....." from my right, from the folks I'd just been greeting when the little angel jumped into my arms and into my heart. They all had eyes as moist as mine.
That little girl, that little angel would be in her late thirties by now.
Wherever she is, I just want her to know that on that morning, with her expression of pure affection, joy, and a child's simple love,
she reminded me that I am loved and changed my outlook for good.
God indeed sent me an angel.

Don't Tell Me, Show Me.

The president's speech to school kids, on the face of it, was alright by me.

Regardless of the overheated rhetoric on all sides of this matter, what he said was good for kids to hear.

However, as with ANY politician, what they say is not as important as what they do. Actions speak louder than words. Keep your eyes wide open.

Recalling a saying I heard while in show business, "Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see."
Frankly, I really don't trust any politician fully, just like I hesitate to trust a lawyer not paid by me.
Remember the old saw about lawyers? - "How can you tell when a lawyer is lying? His lips are moving.". The same holds true for politicos.

I took 'read my lips' with a grain of salt (rock salt size).
With any public office holder, I would say,
"Don't tell me who you are, SHOW me who you are. Your say-so is not enough.
I'll decide for myself about your trustworthiness."

He's my president, too.

But, I won't back him blindly or uncritically.

How They Originated...... ?

Butt Prints In The Sand

One night I had a wondrous dream,
One set of footprints there was seen,
The footprints of my precious Lord,
But mine were not along the shore.

But then some stranger prints appeared,
And I asked the Lord, "What have we here?"
Those prints are large and round and neat,
"But Lord, they are too big for feet."

"My child," He said in somber tones,
"For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith,
But you refused and made me wait."

"You disobeyed, you would not grow,
The walk of faith, you would not know,
So I got tired, I got fed up,
And there I dropped you on your butt."

"Because in life, there comes a time,
When one must fight, and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand,
Or leave their butt prints in the sand."

- author unknown -

Our Judeo-Christian Nation

Food for thought.

Excellence

Excellence is an art won by training and habituation.
We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence,
but rather we have those because we have acted rightly.
We are what we repeatedly do.
Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit.

- Aristotle

Quality Circus

Over time, I've heard comment here and there about Circus and its relationship with the Shrine in the U.S.

In their day, the Texas Shrine Dates were the stuff of legend. At their height, it was said that they could give Ringling a serious run for their money.

One of the big Shrine Circus dates still around is the one in Evansville, Indiana.

Great things have been said about that show and the Shrine that sponsors it.

The Shrine does wonderful benevolent work for children with their very special needs, and in so doing helps us all. It is truly a blessing to have their hearts working to make life better. Without their hard work, our lives would indeed be smaller.

The Shrine in the U.S. has done and still does much to promote and foster circus in America. Circus tradition is greatly preserved through their efforts

I sincerely wish and hope that some Shrines would follow the Evansville example when hosting a circus.

I would speak specifically about the Shrine that hosts the Shrine Circus in Nashville.

I had occasion to see that show last fall and was embarrassed and sorely disappointed by what I observed to be a miserable excuse for a show.
Granted it's a Shrine fundraiser for a worthy cause, to the extent that those monies are directed to the nominal charitable reason.
However, I question whether that Shrine (and others that may share similar show biz 'sensibilities') should be producing, directing and overrunning the event instead of merely hosting and promoting it.

The arena floor of the Nashville Municipal Auditorium looked like it was still being set-up but was actually ‘ready’ for the show. The arena floor was amply overrun by pot-bellied men idly milling about, pre-show, dressed in fezzes and pseudo boy scout jumpsuits, their hands stuffed in their pockets.

At one point during the course of the show the hippodrome was filled with scores of men in tuxes and jumpsuits of differing decoration carrying flags and banners - marching with minimal precision or pride.

At another point, the arena was filled with their overdressed go-karts, motorcycles, and '50s cars, completely and deafeningly filling the building's interior with more haze, smoke, and CO than the ventilation system could handle.

The local shriners outnumbered the performers and the audience by a wide margin.

The shrine clowns, beyond limply waving 'hi', were mostly lifeless, unfunny boors dressed in zip-up cinch-sack suits and nylon multicolor wigs. It seemed that the blow off to almost every one of their ensemble “gags” was the explosion of a cherry bomb.

The local shrine provided the show band - composed of wheezing amateurs who could barely follow a tune with a tailwind, had no life in them and no apparent desire or ability to play anything at a tempo faster than 50 beats per minute.

The acts I saw performing there were mostly rather listless and had no spark... perhaps they were discouraged by the venue at which they had to work and by the sloppy production values and sensibility of its hosts and producer – but they still took the money

One has to work to eat, to be sure, but this venue was produced from hunger.

To the Shriners of Nashville and elsewhere who want to do circus-on-the-cheap –

PLEASE don’t do it. Stick to your strengths. Let the show people exercise theirs.

The shows benefit the kids. The shows are a means to an important end.

The event is not about the Shrine, it is put forth BY the Shrine FOR THE CHILDREN.

Don’t cheapen the event… don’t glorify yourselves… don’t cut corners…

Insist on putting on high quality shows. Better shows will draw bigger crowds, putting more money in the pot FOR THE CHILDREN.

Leave your "clowns", band, hangers-on, and other idle-walkers at home…

or in the bleachers, and definitely away from the show floor.

They don’t belong there if they are not adding quality to the show.

Do something most productive - host the event, promote it to the hilt,

and then get out of the way.

PLEASE leave the production values of the show to quality professionals who actually give a damn about their art - producers, artists, clowns, and musicians, et al.

Cheers to folks with principle like Paul Kaye who refuse to "do bargains" but insist on putting on a good show.

This Nashville Shrine Circus was definitely “bargain sub-basement”.

Mel Hall, Unicyclist

Here's some rare footage of Mel Hall,
believed to be one of the
all time, top unicyclists.

In this clip from the 1944 film
"Sensations of 1945",

Mr. Hall first appears riding the 'handlebars'

while accompanied by his contemporary

and friend, Hubert Castle.

Mr. Hall subsequently appears on
the low unicycle, the giraffe,
and the upside down.

Art and Passion

From as early as I can remember I've been in love with the joy and sheer pleasure of laughter, hearing it - seeing it - and, whenever opportunity presented itself, sharing it.

Laughter and crying, I believe, are two sides of the same coin. Both cleanse and heal the heart, but laughter hurts lots less.
When opportunity presented itself to express this joy and pleasure, I did so in the form of theatre and circus, among other endeavours.

In the circus, I wasn't the best or the worst, but I loved it. I learned and absorbed a lot. I grew in this profession to the extent I remained in the business.
Why I got out of the business is my affair, but, I never got that bug out of my blood.
The love of clowning, performing still burns in my heart.

When you love your art, craft - whatever it may be, when your heart is in it, when you believe in it so deeply that it burns in you - it is sheer passion!
If you think, live and breathe this passion, it is a form of love that you express through your art.
And when you see your art, your labor of love being poorly treated, you naturally take offence just as you might when a beloved friend or family member is abused.

It's not an overstatement.
Ask any artist who has pride in their art if this isn't so.

Don’t you bristle when you see someone asserting that they are something grand when you can clearly see that they don’t live up to what they fancy themselves to be?
Don’t you cringe at TV shows like America’s Got Talent when some acts sound just awful and are appropriately critiqued on their performance and they take a sour attitude as if the judges just don’t recognize their “greatness”?
(There are some great performances to be seen, and then again, there are some EPA Impact Statement Required stinkers on there, too.)

Your average audience is not as dumb as some “artistes” and some producers might presume. Given the opportunity, more often than not, an audience can be discerning enough to sort out the trash.
(Of course, sometimes there’s just no accounting for taste.)

Personally, I cannot stand the ‘efforts’ of HACKS who fancy themselves as artists,
nor can t abide the “Pshaw! Anyone could do that!” school of thought
where it pertains to any art or profession.
That outlook reeks of self indulgent arrogance.

Just because one thinks they’re talented in a given area does NOT mean that they ARE.
You and I are not the best judges of our own talent as we are too close to the subject matter to be truly objective.
Our audiences will inform us as to our talent.

I would say, just be honest and find your TRUE talent and hone your art THERE.

Pals