Man, the stories I could tell about the time I spent on the road with the carnival. It’s really a gypsy lifestyle. In Canada, the major expos are really spaced apart so, in an entire season, we would only do about 7 spots. But they were big. At the Calgary Stampede, for example, I would perform for and bring 5000 people through my joint each day, for two weeks -14 to 15 hours a day.
My final year was by far the toughest as only myself and another individual drove, set up, ran and tore down two major attractions. Also the expos were planned very close together. I remember having to tear down our exhibits in Saskatoon jump to Toronto and set up in just two days. That drive is nearly 2000 miles – about 28 hours in and of itself. I was drunk on lack sleep by the end of that.
I drove an RV older than I was. Everything in it was broken.
Everything.
No heat, no air, no radio, no working wipers. Travelling was insane as the thing was on its last legs and would fail during every major excursion. I saw a lot of highway shoulders that year. The rear was gutted to make room for tent and banner line timber so there was no place to sleep comfortably. I would generally sleep in the odditorium, a space I shared with a mummy, a human shrunken head and a bust of Joseph Merrick. The boredom during the drive was the worst. My partner was driving a separate vehicle and I had no entertainment what-so-ever. Briefly, I had a chimpanzee co-pilot for a few days, and that was a hell of a lot of fun. I would get a lot of reaction pulling into gas bars with a chimp. I would walk Milo to the bathroom and change him. Sometimes the owners of the greasy spoons I stopped at would let him come into their establishments. That combined with the ‘Greatest Sideshow On Earth’ trailer I was pulling gathered a lot of small middle-of-nowhere townsfolk. I would perform a bit for them…maybe get a free slice of pie.
The carnival itself was pretty close knit then; things have changed a lot in a very short amount of time. The carnival is mostly corporate now. While the carnival was like a big family, I was really an outcast due to my profession and because I was constantly in character. I was the black sheep, the weirdo, I fronted the freakshow, I was the odditorium Bally and occasional performer. I wore a three piece suit in summer weather topped off with a bowler or top hat, in the evenings – I often wore a creepy getup. I always felt that I was not one of the gang, and I didn’t make much effort to change that opinion.
Then, at the Calgary stampede that year. I was proven wrong.
It was my last year with the carnival, fronting the odditorium as the bally man. It had been a pretty bust season. Bad crowds, bad attraction lot locations and poor new management. It was late at night and I was watching the big wheel. It was well past midnight but it was still lit. That meant the carnival was still open and thus, so was my attraction. I wasn’t doing my shpeel though; I was sort of just laying back. Now, because I was in a strange costume and I was back lit, it wasn’t unusual for people to mistake me for a statue. In fact, on long nights I revelled in frightening people by suddenly moving. It was a cheap scare that was infinitely easier than swallowing a sword or pounding a nail into my face. So this night, when a couple of college kids fuelled by booze, ran right past me into the attraction without paying I just shrugged and chalked it up to not being seen. I could have ran in after them, but I was tired and decided they would be out in a second or two.
You see, the odditorium was a museum. There were a lot of words in there. It’s sort of educational so I wagered these preppy jock boys would tire quickly and leave.
Then I heard glass breaking.
I ran in and witnessed them breaking out a second exhibit. They didn’t even see me as they ran, because when they got outside they stopped and laughed. It had been a long day and without even thinking I walked up to them and shoved the bigger one. We started arguing and it escalated quickly.
Now, I’m a pretty big dude. I was a power lifter in my youth and stand about 6’3 – 280lbs or so. This kid was bigger than me. Likely played football or something but I was pissed. I guess my three piece suit was deceiving as well because the jock laid into me with an elbow. I hit the guy as hard as I could and he dropped to his ass, his buddy grabbed me and I tripped him. But the big kid was back on his feet and he started to wrestle with me. I put my shoulder into him and backed him up, I actually slammed him into the Scrambler ride railing. Unfortunately, he was keeping my head pinned down and his buddy was wailing on my back and ribs. Then, a couple other guys showed up and they started to wail on me too. I was scared and started fighting for my life, I ended up pushing the Scrambler railing way back and slammed the big kid right over the side of it into the actual ride area. I then put my back to the railing and put up my fists. They swarmed me and really started to beat the shit out of me.
The ride operator, Shep, started yelling at us.
‘You kids, fight someplace else!’ he screamed as he approached. Shep was a rough carny, he had done some time. He had a huge facial scar and a bum eye. I had never said two words to this guy before but I looked at from under a pile of humanity as I swung wildly from my back. My top hat was gone, my suit was torn, my face bloody and makeup completely obscured – yet he recognized me.
‘What the fuck!’
He jumped the rail and started fighting. Then all the rides in the area slowed, shut down and the midway was quickly awash with red-coated carnies laying the boots to a bunch of punk kids. We eventually subdued the lot of them. And that’s how I ended up sitting on a the chest of a teenager in from of a crowd of a couple hundred people.
The cops showed up, surveyed the damage and took three of the kids, myself and Shep into makeshift HQ. The kid screamed that I attacked him. I showed the cops pictures of my brother the cop, my Cops for Cancer participation card and pictures of the 7 year old kid I was hanging out with as part of the Big Brother program. They asked me what I wanted to do. Now, I could have had him arrested, but it would have just been thrown out as there was no way I would be able to get back to Calgary for a trial. So I told them I wanted money. I wanted whatever the kid had.
The cops went in there and screamed at the kid for a couple of hours.
He coughed up $300.
It was enough to repair the damages and mend some of the bruising.
The Odditorium
My two black eyes, a couple weeks after the incident. It's one of my favorite photos.