Prologue
Freida was purchased from an outfit in Birmingham and towered over the other elephants, dwarfing even Trilby the Ponderous Pachyderm. She weighed nearly nine thousand pounds, and the flies attracted to the considerable amount of dung she produced made Petey cringe. At least he didn’t have to shovel it.
The lead clown, Petey had to work with Freida as part of his act, and she seemed more than amiable enough.
Petey’d just gotten his picture in the News-Sentinel, November 20th, 1935, in full painted-on frown makeup with his curly wig, red sequins for tears, bulbous nose, garish overalls, and shoes that on the outside looked eight sizes too big. Freida was in the background. He bought three copies of the issue and folded them away for safe-keeping. Newspapers throughout Indiana and into Chicago were printing reports about the Cole Bros. Circus, which had just established its winter headquarters in Rochester, Indiana. Clyde Beatty was getting most of the ink. A world-famous lion tamer, he was a star attraction with the Coles, but Petey didn’t get on too well with Clyde, or with John Smith, the horse trainer who drilled the Ponies from Powder River and the dozen cream-colored stallions that had recently come down from a show in Canada. He thought that some of their techniques were too harsh. Petey had a fondness for all creatures. Perhaps that was why he favored Freida and the Divine Bear and all the other animals.
His greatest fondness, however, was reserved for Claire Carstairs, who went by the stage name of Tina. She was one of the aerialists, and on most nights she shared her trailer with Petey.
Clowning was a tough life, choreographing routines, the physicality of staying in shape, and with it went other tasks: toting tenting and equipment, checking the cages, and taking a turn at the bucket brigade, carrying water from an open well two blocks away to the elephant troughs, as closer water lines had not yet been laid and probably wouldn’t be until late the following spring. Petey had enough clout with the Coles to avoid the truly onerous work.
There were often two shows Saturday and Sunday at the winter headquarters, and visits to the children’s wing of the nearby hospital. There were newspaper interviews … though he was only quoted and shown in the one issue that he’d noticed. And there was teaching the growing cadre of clowns how to be funny.
Tough, but a good life, Petey knew. The sweet, playful strains of the calliope, the feel of sawdust between his toes, the musky scents of all the animals, the sun that sometimes beat down warm enough to run his makeup, and above all that the fragrance of Tina’s favorite perfume—Caron Fleurs de Rocailles … all of those things made up his perfect world.
It was a year later things started to tarnish. Petey was behind the bleachers, waiting for his turn in the ring.
“Ladies and Gentlemennnnnn,” the ringmaster cried. “Here is the world’s greatest collection of beasts, wild and ferocious, from the jungles, plains, and veldt, brought together for a daring spectacle.”
Petey watched Clyde Beatty strut into the center ring. Then came Nero, a massive black-maned lion that sprang to a pedestal and majestically seated himself. Caesar and Nuba followed, and then the Bengal tigers took an assigned spot. Pasha, a tigress that Tina claimed was her favorite, was ill-tempered today, refusing Beatty’s commands. Petey sucked in a breath as Clyde approached Pasha, whip in one hand, chair in the other.
“Leave her alone,” Petey whispered. “The lady is in a foul mood.”
Beautiful Pasha shot at Clyde, roaring, slashing. Women and children on the bleachers screamed. Nero leaped off his perch and slammed into Pasha, saving Beatty and adding to the chaos.
Petey and the other clowns rushed in, pulling a torn and bleeding Clyde out as the crowd fled. Tina called for an ambulance.
***