By DEB BENTLY
Staff Writer
For most folks, “a day at the circus” conjures up images of performers in shiny costumes demonstrating feats of derring-do for an audience seated on benches under the big top snacking on peanuts and cotton candy. The picture includes, of course, trained animals, trapeze acts, and clowns.
All that was true, of course, of the two performances of the Culpepper and Merriweather Circus which came to New Richland Sunday, August 8. But for anyone whose “day” at the circus lasts more than a couple hours, the phrase acquires much deeper meaning.
“We arrived in town at 7 this morning,” said Leo Acton, also known as Leo the clown. “We’ll be gone by 5:30 a.m. tomorrow.”
The circus’s Facebook page recommends a free 9:30 a.m. tour for anyone interested. This past Sunday, five people arrived and were treated to a thorough behind-the-scenes look at circus life, including petting Wyatt, the 17-hand performing Shire/Percheron horse; meeting Logan Jimenez, who shares his mobile home with five cockatoos, each over a foot long, all of whom regard him as a member of their “flock”; and learning the personal histories and character traits of the big cats—tawny-coated tigers Delilah and Solomon, both 18 years old, and young Wendell, a rescue lion whose owners decided when he reached 5 months of age that he was no longer suitable as a household pet.
As the tour moves from place to place, the big top is raised to its 40-foot height and secured to 4-foot stakes which have been driven three feet into the ground. The “center ring” and seating are installed and the side walls are fastened on.
Oblivious to the activity, Leo leads the tour among the many vehicles parked on the otherwise empty lot. He answers questions about nearly any facet of the circus—from the number of workers needed to the price of a big top tent (about $40,000)--with such easy grace and authority that his responses and personal anecdotes somehow become even more fascinating than his eccentric sideburns.
He kneels next to 374-pound Delilah and describes the “chuffing” noise tigers make when they are relaxed. “She thinks I’m her personal servant,” he comments. “In that way, I suppose, she’s just like your average housecat.” He points to her littermate Solomon, nearby, who, a few minutes earlier was lolling on his back with his feet spread outward, almost as though he expected a tummy rub. “Solomon’s the same: he likes to sleep about 18 hours a day.”
Despite the demanding day ahead of them, members of Leo’s circus family greet the tour members cheerfully and answer questions ranging from casual to invasive. “Where do you live?” asks a 9-year-old. One cockatoo on his arm, ringmaster and performer Logan points to a nearby RV, where another of his cockatoos is watching the group through a window. “He’s pretty closely bonded with me,” Logan explains, “so he watches to make sure I’m okay.”
Dog trainer Dextre Tripp brings over Clarice. “This is the best part of her day,” he says of the soft, long-haired rescue dog who walks across poles during his act. “She loves everybody.”
In the background stands the “wheel of destiny,” an elaborate metal structure which tour members will see used during performances later in the day. Though the younger members of the tour are tempted to climb on it, Leo calmly requests that they leave that to the acrobats. All around, the business of the day is proceeding: animals are being fed; pieces of equipment are being delivered to the big top, now complete with its side walls; exposed stake tops are being covered with orange cones.
Leo explains that, thanks to the Covid pandemic, some of the “roustabouts,” are different from the workers who usually come up from Mexico to spend the performance season working for the circus. Some of the people tying knots and carrying equipment are actually jugglers and acrobats who usually perform for their own circus back home. “But they know the business, and so they were able to hit the ground running for us,” he observes. Another effect of the pandemic is a shortened performance season: this year’s schedule lasts from late May to October, three months fewer than in typical years.
After an hour and a half, Leo says good-bye to the tour members, who assure him they’ll be back for the show.
When they return to the now-bustling fairway a few hours later, elaborate bounce inflatables—one shaped like a carousel, the other like a giant barrel with a gorilla on top—bar the way to the private spaces they visited earlier. The ponies they had seen grazing are now being saddled and made ready to give rides to excited youngsters.
The roustabouts (a traditional name for circus workers) are now selling tickets to the rides and hawking water, sno-cones and cotton candy to the crowd. Two of the Perez family acrobats are painting faces at a small booth. Paulina Arlise, who rides unicycles of ever-increasing heights in the show and acts as trainer to Percheron/Shire Wyatt and miniature horse Jasmine, is in charge of the pony ride. Her sister Simone, who will appear as ringmaster, unicycle rider and high trapeze performer later, assists. She chats with her sister about her hobby—competing in weightlifting competitions—as they work; during the show it will be announced that Simone can “dead lift” 350 pounds.
Thanks to their behind-the-scenes look, the tour-goers see the busy activity around them with new eyes. The members of the friendly, generous extended family they met earlier are now focused on their “family” business, making sure this new set of tasks is taken care of.
Articulate, knowledgeable Leo is now, well, a clown: his face is elaborately decorated and his artificially extended nose is bright red: His elaborate sideburns are no longer his most noticeable feature. He uses exaggerated facial expressions and body movements to keep members of the arriving crowd entertained as they take their seats and get comfortable.
Simone and Logan now shimmer in their ringmaster attire, their faces sporting constant smiles.
First to arrive in the ring is circus owner and big cat trainer Trey Key. Delilah and Solomon are let into the ring and convinced—even cajoled—into completing their facets of the show. Trey leans in more than once to meet foreheads with Delilah; 450-pound Solomon—whom the tour goers know is experiencing arthritis—has only a limited role in the performance. As Delilah rolls over and demands to have her tummy rubbed before she will continue, Trey tells everyone that he and the two tigers have been together for 16 years, and that Delilah is like a second wife to him in that both the tiger and the human are equally “cooperative” when he asks something of them.
Simone, Paulina, and their father, Ron, appear on unicycles, completing an impressive array of maneuvers, including weaving through tightly-spaced vases of flowers and juggling flaming batons. Only a few minutes after their performance ends, satin-jacketed Ron has changed into shorts and a t-shirt and appears behind the souvenir stand offering light-up toys to excited youngsters. Perhaps only the tour-goers realize he is the same person.
Belgica and Romario Perez arrive in brightly-colored costumes with the “Wheel of Destiny.” They set it spinning with easy agility, staying upright as their respective ends of the structure circle around each other. Belgica keeps the wheel’s motion constant as Romario moves to the outside of his end, his head seeming to brush the fabric of the big top as he runs. The crowd gasps as he appears to stumble, but he recovers with such ease that it seems possible his heart-stopping brush with “destiny” is built into the performance.
Later, her hair down loose and wearing a “Culpepper and Merriweather Circus” t-shirt, Belgica circles outside the center ring distributing prizes to those who have received a random winning ticket in the bags of peanuts sold to the crowd.
Logan walks out into the center ring, five cockatoos spread across his arms and shoulders. The white birds seem to shine in the muted light. He tells the crowd that these foot-long birds are as intelligent as a five-year-old, and can live to be 70 years old. Their long lifespans can lead to them outliving their owners. Their active curiosities can make them challenging to care for—especially if they get bored. Because of this, he says, cockatoos are among the most frequently abandoned pets. He tells the crowd about his not-for-profit organization, Save the Cockatoos, which is meant to raise funds not only to rescue domesticated birds, but also to support and assist those in their native environments in the wild. He demonstrates the birds’ intelligence by having Babs, the watcher from the window during the morning tour, solve a puzzle to acquire a treat. During intermission, Logan raises money for his organization by taking donations for paintings done by the cockatoos.
At one point in the show, the roustabouts are acknowledged for the many tasks they perform. The performers among them give big smiles and flex their muscles, then quickly return to the task at hand.
Leo appears regularly, once driving an astoundingly small car, another time carrying out his supposed “second job” as dishwasher. He sets ten plates spinning on poles, only to supposedly break them as he puts them away.
Paulina Alise arrives with Wyatt and Jasmine. The draft horse spins and turns on command, sending an impression of strength combined with willing cooperation. Miniature horse Jasmine elicits chuckles when she appears, completely dwarfed by her companion. The contrast between them is heightened when Wyatt sets his front feet on a short platform and Jasmine runs underneath him.
Dextre and two of his trained dogs appear. Clarice somehow manages to walk 16 or more feet across upright poles with paw-sized platforms on the top of each. Dextre’s elaborately curled mustache no longer seems as eccentric as it had during the morning’s conversation, but his dogs manage to look just as friendly and loveable as before.
Simone climbs 10 feet of rope to reach her trapeze swing, lifting her own weight many times as she pivots herself around the suspended bar. In her case, strength and grace work together to make it seem she is dancing in the air. Despite the obvious exertion of her aerobatic maneuvers, she smiles as she executes each one.
In the show’s final performance, three members of the Perez family appear: Romario and Belgica, joined by brother Luis. In sparkling blue and white costumes different from the ones they wore before, the trio make use of the “Russian Swing,” a platform large enough to hold two people and capable of spinning upside down. Each in turn, Belgica, Luis, and finally the gregarious Romario are launched off the platform onto a net suspended over the center ring. Romario even succeeds in targeting himself through a ring suspended a few feet below the big top’s roof.
Even as ringmasters Simone and Logan announce that the show is over and thank the crowd for coming, members of the audience are on their feet and on their way toward the exit. Roustabouts are lowering the Perez’s net and folding it away. Moments later they bring in the large, 20-foot-tall enclosure required by law for the tigers’ act: the second show begins in about 45 minutes.
Belgica and Luis are already outside painting faces; Paulina is selling pony rides. Ron is offering balloons and toys. Those arriving have no way of knowing they are being greeted and assisted by the same people who will bring them gasps, sighs and smiles as they perform in the center ring.
Crowd members fill the seats for the second show, all set for their “day at the circus.” As the first set of circus-goes could tell them, they will definitely be getting what they came for. Their “days,” however, can only begin to compare with those experienced by the performers and workers. Just as at the end of the 2:30 performance, audience members at the 4’clock show rise to their feet and leave during the final announcements. Their expectations for the “day” are met. If they take the time to look behind them, though, they will see the roustabouts already removing and folding the tent walls. Their day, it turns out, is far from over.