Coos Bay, Circus Travels 5

Our second location was Coos Bay, Oregon, about 16 miles from Coquille. It was a pretty town, very green. The rivers were full of logs, thousands of them, and flowers were everywhere. It was still quite cold, intermittently cloudy and sunny. Being from southern California, to us, it seemed incredibly cold for May. "I didn't know Oregon was so close to the North Pole," grumbled Jim, zipping up his jacket. Mine was already zipped, and I had found a scarf in one of the pockets that I didn't know was there, and wrapped it cozily around my neck. "If it gets cloudy and stays that way, I'll be looking for snow," I shuddered. I kept my hands jammed in my pockets for warmth, because of course we didn't have gloves.

We arrived at the high school about 12:30, and began taking things over to the gym, and setting up drums, amps, speakers, and George's Cordovox. This was an ingenious instrument, an electronic accordian, that could sound like several instruments playing at once. George was a master at it.

The trapeze artist, Taddeus Beran, was attaching his swing, and a long rope ladder, to the ceiling. He was announced grandly for his act as "Taddeus Beran!", but in real life everybody affectionately called him Teddy. He was handsome, but not stuck up, great to work with, and all the other performers liked him. He was cooperative and always ready to help. As we drew close to where he was, he was attaching a chair to the side of his swing. "What's that for?" asked Jim, "So you can take a break?" "You'll see." Teddy examined his knot, and gave the chair an experimental tug. The knot held.

Circus performers get very good at knots of all kinds, because their lives depend on them. They have to attach trapezes and swings to whatever attachment happens to be available in each different location. The roofs of the gymnasiums in the various places where the circus performed, were seldom the same height as the one before, and also, there were not always safe or convenient attachments for their rigging. Yet somehow they always worked it out. Over and over, I was impressed by their patience, their perseverance, and their endless ability to solve new problems.

"Princess" Elena Omar, who had the intriguing act in which she appeared to be balancing on one finger, was practicing part of her routine, and her husband, Paco, was setting up her equipment with the help of a couple of young roustabouts. The act required a stand, so she would be visible to all the audience, and some peripheral equipment, including the mandolin she played while standing on her head. She had a fiery disposition, and often got into spats, but was a real trouper. Nothing could keep her from performing.

Rudy, the ringmaster, was wandering around overseeing things, and, as we went by, was showing a young roustabout how to balance a pole on his chin. Rudy told me that his family owned circuses in Europe for nine generations, so he knew how to do almost anything that had to do with a circus. Also, he said he was a painter, a sculptor, and played several instruments, including the guitar. When I saw him twirling a rope I said, "You mean you can do that, too?" "Oh yes," he kept his rope twirling, "Will Rogers, Jr. taught me how. I've never used it in an act, but it's fun to do."

The little Polish boy I noticed at Coquille, was the son of one of the performers in the perch-pole act. He came up to me at Coos Bay during the show and said, "Hi!" looking at me with intense blue eyes. "What's you're name?" I asked. "My name is Machek, and I'm real strong!" He proudly demonstrated his tiny biceps.

In addition to the clown we met on the first day at Coquille, there was a young couple, rather new at being clowns, but quite good. The husband was the real beginner, but definitely had the feeling for it.  Both of them kept improving all the time as the circus went on.  The older clown was the main one, and had been with the circus since Betty Reid's mother had it--about seven years in all.

The smell of popcorn pervaded everything as we waited for the circus to start. People--adults, children, and babes in arms--oozed steadily in the doors carrying balloons, popcorn, and cotton candy. The circus people told me that the money actually is in the concessions. Many of the performers work concessions before the show and at intermission.

Before the performance at Coos Bay, I took pictures of kids taking the elephant ride. It looked like so much fun, I was jealous! Some of the youngsters were excited and happy, and seemed to enjoy every minute of being up on an elephant, but some were afraid of being so high above the ground, and held on for dear life, not even able to manage a smile, and looking apprehensive as the elephant walked slowly around in a small circle, carefully guided by Gary, the trainer.

In the musical session before the performance, while the stands were filling, Jim sang "After the Lovin'," and did a great job. I was impressed. So was the audience, and he got lots of applause. Also, during the show he found several new places to use the trumpet, and both the performers and the owners were pleased.

Except for "Princess" Elena Omar, who came to George after the evening show, steaming with anger because he wasn't catching the nuances of her performance. She had a fiery temper, as did George, and was anything but diplomatic. Also, she was hard to understand because of her accent. I thought she and George were going to come to blows. I couldn't really catch much of their spirited exchange, but afterward George was sputtering, and grumbled, "I have half a mind to leave this God-damned circus if I have to put up with her!" Betty Reid, the owner, heard about it, and quickly came to talk to George. "You are a top performer, George, and the backbone of the circus!" she assured him, and continued with a string of extravagant compliments about his wonderful performance, and he simmered down.

That night we stayed at Winchester Bay, a small town not far from Coos Bay, on the coast. When I stepped outside in the morning, I was surprised to see what a beautiful spot it was. i There was a charming little inlet, smooth and tranquil, where many boats were moored, and cast their reflections in the smooth silvery water. In the stillness and the early morning light, it was almost a mystical scene. I teached for my camera  to take a picture, but Jim was in a hurry. "Why would you want to do that? We've got to get going. We have a long road ahead of us." "But it's so beautiful," I protested, "so peaceful and serene." "Never mind," said Jim, "there will be much more important pictures for you to take." So I put my camera away, and got in the motor home, but I thought, "What is more important than a moment of beauty you may never see again?"