(Note: This piece is made up of scraps from a book I was to write about life in the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. The book now probably won't be written, but the story still needs to be told. This is a portion of it.)
It's been close to 130 years since the Ringling Brothers first started their circus. With this monstrous production almost the entire time has been the railroad train, thundering and grumbling down the parallel steelway, always on its way to the next magical destination, bringing with it a conglomeration of all types of stars, workers, trainers, families and corrallers from all walks of life all over the world.
Nowhere else on Earth does the storied Melting Pot take hold so forcefully, so mystically. And all in the name of Entertainment. This truly is the epitome, the very definition, of Show Business, and the strongest societal magnet of all for millions of young children over the last century-plus, dreaming of life on the road with what feels like an endless menagerie of exotic animals, seeing cities and towns they would never otherwise experience, and meeting wonderful new people every day of their lives.
With the advent of faster transportation and a faster society, the combined magic of train travel and the circus life has become much less mainstream in attitude and feel than in previous generations. But for those in the know, the life persists, and will continue to feed the nomad showman's soul in a way that is inescapable, unforgettable, and life-forming. Let's take a peek inside that life for just a second. Those big steel wheels are ready to roll.
The Train
There are actually TWO full train productions of the Circus, both travelling various parts of North America at any given time. The Barnum circus train is the only privately-owned train allowed on Amtrack tracks. The train carries every scrap of the show and all the people required to put it on, and it lumbers into town a day or two before the first scheduled performance. A trainyard spot is reserved for the community to park, since they need someplace to come back to every night after the show. So while the surroundings of the sleeping area are familiar, the homes of the showpeople and staff are constantly changing their surroundings. The level of welcome in what are working and busy trainyards varies, with everyone trying their best to get along in unfamiliar surroundings. This first shot shows a worker emptying trash bags that are hung outside the berth areas. There simply isn't room inside the train for them, and it's critically important that the trainyard not become a dump, out of respect for all parties involved. Note that satellite dish!
I'm lucky enough to have a good friend inside the circus: Jerome Giancola plays bass for Ringling Brothers, and has been on their roster for about two years. I met him when I owned a record label, auditioning players for an American Idol singer. Jerome has had a very interesting career, including not only session work, but also recording, playing on cruise ships, and a number of other interesting forays that are not too common in the Music Industry.
Even while on the road with Ringling, Jerome stays busy with other artists by recording tracks for them in his state-of-the-art studio, dining room, storage space/kitchen/bedroom, pictured here. Note the presence of the laptop, allowing him to record over previously-supplied multitracks, or even create all-new materials ready to be uploaded thousand of miles away for final album construction.
The Life
Once in town, every effort is made to keep life as normal as possible. Bikes are common, and are parked nearby so that grocery runs and sightseeing can be accomplished. The size of the accommodations varies depending on the person's job and seniority. Most of the performers bring their entire families with them, and get together for family activities during every possible moment of free time. After the show, I noticed a number families bringing their kids out to the stage floor to have them exercise while the parents practiced for the next night's routine. Many of these families have known nothing but the circus for generations, and not just with Ringling Brothers. Almost every nationality and race is represented, and many other circuses feed their talent into Ringling, with the inverse also being true.
Here Jerome (right) socializes with Geoff Fruchy, one of the managers of concessions, around midnight, when most of the activity happens around the train. There are many jobs within the traveling organization, from rigging, through electricians, booth staff, safety, train specialists, animal handlers and trainers, and the band, to say nothing of the performers. This truly is a city on wheels, with a gratifying and challenging variety of personalities and human experience that can be found nowhere else.
Without fail, every person I met during my all-too short visit was friendly, receptive, and happy to see me. And they were also very willing to share their stories. There's no room for that here, but I'm very hopeful that I'll be able to tell some more intimate recollections at a future time.
Here's a view from the same spot as our first, but this time taken late at night, after the show. I include it because there's a wonderful time of night in Show Business, when the crowd has gone home, you as the performer know you've done your job, and now it's time for some peace and quiet. Outside of Show Business, I've never experienced anything like the solitude and Universal Consciousness of being in a familiar, yet unfamiliar place, unwinding with friends and strangers. It's as though the rest of the Universe has completely stopped, and is allowing you some peace.
There's only one feeling that eclipses it, and that's the feeling you get when you pull out of one town, and sometime later on, whether it be hours or days, pull into the next. It's like you've given everything you are to one place, and are ready to move on. Maybe it's also that anything unpleasant that may have happened can now be put permanently in the rear view, looking forward only to better days. Then, when you pull into the next town, there's a wonderful feeling of hope and happiness at what might lay ahead. Of course, after you've been through enough cities and towns, you know it's not really true. But the feeling is there nonetheless. It's like a drug. Perhaps that's what keeps us a partially nomadic species; the hope of what's just around the corner.
As I mentioned above, there's much, much more to this story. You haven't met Jerome, nor any of the fascinating people he works with. Perhaps we can explore that more next time.
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