The Circus

I love everything about the circus.  The music, the lights, the animals, the trapeze artists, the clowns.  I love it all, so when a circus came to Malden when I was in junior high, I knew I had to find a way to go.

It was one circus that I wish I had missed.

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I was on my way home from school when I noticed the big empty lot behind the American Legion hut wasn’t so empty that day.  It was full of trucks and trailers loaded with all sorts of circus paraphernalia.  Other vehicles were pulling camper trailers in which I assumed the performers and workers lived.

The next day on my way home I marveled at the progress the workers had made.  The big top had been raised and the menagerie trailers were lined up.  I could see the lions and tigers and other animals pacing around or just lying still in their cages…waiting for me I supposed.

A tough looking character shooed me away, telling me I’d have to get tickets to see everything.  The tickets would go on sale the next day, when the circus opened.

I walked on home, past the line of elephants eating hay.  They were chained to huge steel stakes and couldn’t move much. 

I walked on.  I couldn’t wait for the next day.

The circus was opening!

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Neither Mom nor Dad was interested in going to the circus with me.  They gave me some money so I happily headed down the alley toward the big top I could see rising above the horizon.

I paid my fee and walked around looking at all the sights and booths and games outside the big tent.  Then, when the time was right I went inside the dimly-lit structure and found a seat in the bleachers right down front.  I wanted to see everything and be so close that I would feel like I was almost part of the extravaganza.  I couldn’t wait for the show to begin.

I didn’t have long to wait.

The curtains that served as doors flew open and my old friends the elephants ran into the ring.  They did several tricks before circling in front of the bleachers on their way out.  They were so close that I felt the breeze and smelled their surprising horse-like odor.

Acrobats, trapeze artists, a magician, and horseback riders ran into the ring one act after another.  Each performed their routines to perfection, holding the audience spellbound.

A surprisingly small car putted into the ring.  It sputtered and backfired, sounding like it would die at any moment, and then it did.  The doors flew open and clowns began to pour out.  Clown after clown climbed out, and thenjust kept climbing out.  There was no way a car as small as that one could hold all the clowns that got out of it, but it did.

The clown driver managed to get the tiny car started again and the other clowns ran along trying to catch it as it drove, sputtering and backfiring, out of the tent.

Eventually, the show ended.

I mingled with the throng of people as everyone made their way to the exit, some still laughing from all the fun.  The crowd had thinned by the time I was able to pass through the opening.  It was kind of nice stepping out into the cool night air.

And that’s when it happened.

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It’s funny the tricks your mind can play with memories.  I know I wasn’t alone when I got to the exit, but I don’t remember anybody being nearby when the man spoke to me.  Maybe there were other people around, but I don’t remember any.  Maybe it’s just because I felt so alone.

The man standing outside the tent wasn’t very big but he was bigger than me.  I couldn’t pick him out of a lineup now but I do remember that he spoke with a soft Spanish accent and that there were the remainders of clown makeup showing, even in that dim light.

He asked, “Did you enjoy the show?”

I was taught to be polite and respectful.  “Yes sir.”

He didn’t actually move, but I felt like he was moving nearer.  “Did you like the clowns?  Did we do a good job?”

I nodded, “Yes, sir.  Y’all were great.” 

“Where are you going?” he smiled, maybe a little too much.

I was facing him.  Polite kids were taught to face adults when they talked.  I did take a slow sideways step closer to my neighborhood.  “Home.”

He seemed eager, “You need a ride?  I’ll give you a ride.”

I shook my head, “No thanks.  I’m OK.

“I’ll give you a ride.  It’s OK.”  He seemed so eager to help me.  “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride.”

I was taught that polite kids don’t lie.  I glanced northward and pointed.  “Mom’s waiting for me right over there, by the road.”  I waived in a nonchalant way.  “That’s her waiving.”

Yes, I was taught not to lie to adults, but I did it anyway.  Mom and Dad were both at home, probably watching TV.

I spoke politely, “Thanks for the offer though.”

He was squinting his eyes as he looked toward the road.  I got the feeling he was trying to see my mother waving at me.

He spoke again, “Well, if she’s not there, come on back and I’ll give you a ride.  I don’t mind.”

I hurried on.  When I felt like I was out of the clown’s sight, my step quickened and I was soon running.

I ran all the way home.

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I thought of that event a few days ago when Annie was home on an icy, snowy day.  We watched a limited series on Netflix about an actor, Jimmy Savile (pronounced Savle), in England.  He was multi-talented and starred in several TV shows, including one named Jim’ll Fix It where he granted peoples’ wishes.

As his fame grew, Mr. Savile started raising money to help worthy organizations.  His charitable work raised millions and millions of dollars for various causes.  Not only did he raise money, he volunteered his time.

At a hospital for people with spinal injuries he raised funds to repair the old buildings and add more.  He “put his money where his mouth was” by basically moving in with the patients.  The hospital gave him a room to live in.  This enabled him to spend a lot of time with the patients.  He would make them laugh by telling stories and jokes.

Everywhere he went people turned out in throngs.  They would line the roadways, cheering and calling out to him.  It seemed everybody loved him.

As a devout Catholic, he helped out whenever the church needed something.  He worked with girls but also helped teach the alter boys, among other things.

He kept doing good things, including for his friends in the police force.

As time passed, frightening rumors started spreading about him.  The police said they investigated but could find no proof.

More and more accusations arose.  The police found no corroborating evidence.

Still, over time some harder evidence came out.  People gave testimony that showed signs of truth.

Just before his 85^th birthday Jimmy Savile passed away. 

I don’t honestly know if someone was trying to hush-up his activities because of all the money he raised, or if people only felt safe speaking up after he died but complaints of his earlier misbehaviors began to pour in.

The authorities now say they have evidence that he molested almost 500 people, from toddlers on up to disabled adults.

Jimmy Savile was never brought to justice.

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In my 23 years with the Missouri Division of Youth Services I worked with a lot of boys who had been molested.  Most of their offenders were people were either in a position of authority or were relatives.

As I researched this post, I found a story about a teacher in Kennett, Missouri, which is about a half-hour drive from my home.  The young teacher has recently been accused of carrying on an affair with one of her students.

Another article told of a teacher in Nixa, Missouri, where some of my family used to teach.  That teacher has been accused of having relations with an underage student.

What is wrong with some people?

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Now, I honestly can’t be sure what that clown in my circus story was trying to do.  Maybe he really was just a nice man who only wanted to help out a kid.

My heart tells me otherwise.

A few days after those events occurred, I was walking home past the empty-again lot.  The circus was gone and all that was left was scattered litter.  As I passed through, one particular piece of trash caught my eye.  It was a thick paperback book.  Being a voracious reader I picked it up and took it home with me.

It was titled, “The Boston Strangler” and gave a true account of that heinous murderer’s crimes. 

Thinking back on that book and the clown who offered to give me a ride, I have to wonder…

Yeah, I just have to wonder…

Thank God I just have to wonder.

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