It's not a matter of packing your suitcase and grabbing the next train anymore-there are demo reels, training programs, and, as with any career, lots of preparation required.
By Laura Weinert
"It's the kind of show business your mother told you to stay away from," joked Jim Ragona, a ringmaster at Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey for 18 years, now one of the company's talent scouts.
There is, of course, some truth to this, but for many performers, running off to the circus is the opportunity of a lifetime, one that brings them on an adventure across the U.S., teaches them a phrase or two of Russian or a smattering of Chinese, as artists from every corner of the globe become friends, mentors, and fellow members of a small, diverse community devoted to one thing-entertaining. It's a chance to sharpen your performance skills, force yourself to adapt, improvise, speak with clarity, or move with grace before crowds of up to 25,000 people.
You may not have been toeing the highwire since age four, brushing up on your triple somersault on the weekends, or teaching your cat to do anything more impressive than show up for a meal, but for those with a spark of adventure in their souls, a passion to perform, and an intense desire to learn, a season with the circus may prove addictive.
"As actors, you're always looking for unusual experiences," said Michael James McGowan, Ringling Bros.' new ringmaster for the Blue Unit. "You want something that's going to set you apart, something that'll give casting people something to talk about when they look at your resum . The circus is a whole different performing world, so it's a great opportunity to get exposed to different kinds of performing techniques. By the end of this year, I think I will have sung more live, before more people, than anyone else in the country."
At present, there are over 50 circuses in the U.S., with a constant need for performers to help bring the immense spectacle to life. Back Stage West recently spoke to some of the country's top clowns, ringmasters, and circus talent scouts to give readers an idea of what life on the road with a circus is really like, and how you might be able to get your foot in the ring.
BIG TOP TRAINING
"We once had a hand-balancer at Ringling named Jimmy Tinsman," recalled Ragona, "and he was working on this trick where he would go up onto his hands with a ball on his back, roll the ball up as he did the handstand, then balance the ball on his feet. When he could finally do it, he went screaming, "I did it! I did it!,' and world-renowned juggler Francis Brun turned to him, and in his thick German accent, he said "Ja, but can you do it at 8:15 every night?'"
There's no question that becoming a circus performer demands virtuosity. Whether it's a fine-tuned comic clown act, a blindfolded triple somersault, or juggling ceramic pots with your feet, the key is to reach a level where you are in complete command of your material.
Being born into a circus family is not the only path into the ring. For those without the juggling gene, there are essentially two options: studying at a circus school, or joining a smaller circus as a clown, dancer, or ringmaster and learning new skills on the job. In both situations, the point is to encounter the best performers you can, learn from them, and practice.
In terms of schooling, most of the performers who spoke with Back Stage West emphasized that movement training is perhaps the most important form of preparation for circus performers. Many begin by studying dance or mime, and then move on to mastering general circus skills, before specializing in one or two areas. (See the list of recommended schools and resources.) Tackling the basics-acrobatics, tumbling, juggling-often takes at least two years, and then another two years are spent honing a specific skill-a chair-balancing act, for example-and developing it into a marketable presentation.
"You have to study as much as you can, and work with good people," said Annette Devick, a character clown with Oops! The Big Apple Circus Stage Show, now at the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts, May 23-28. "If that means going away to school somewhere, then I think that's a good thing to do." Devick herself followed her theatre degree with classes at the National Circus School in Montreal, which landed her a job with Cirque du Soleil.
Others insist that learning on the job is essential. "The best training you can get is working in a circus," insisted Ragona, who was an actor until age 27 before going on to become a ringmaster. "If it's a little family circus, better for you. You'll have more time to learn the craft. What happens is that you'll discover in your day-to-day working life that you have a proclivity for hand-balancing, or for some kind of discipline of the circus. Well, you're at the best place on earth, because here are the best people in the world to teach you how to do it. I've seen people come on the show as a clown and end up being a star performer, because they had the best teacher in the world, and they had him 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for two years of a contract. Circus people are very generous with their talent. I've never known a circus performer to charge anyone for teaching."
Whichever path you choose, the idea is to keep performing. When I asked Ringling Bros.' featured clown David Larible where the best place to study was, he replied: "Any place where there is an audience ready to watch you."
Even street performing is a way to develop the ability to work a crowd and make a little money while doing it. "Perform in anything you can," said Devick, "because if you wait, and you make excuses, because it's just not this or it's just not that, then you lose the desire."
FROM REEL TO RINGLING
Historically, the American circus has been an international affair, bringing acts across the Atlantic to dazzle aristocrats and working folk alike with exotic performers and rare feats, and requiring producers to travel extensively seeking out the world's most marketable marvels. The availability of film equipment later enabled far-flung acts to come to them, however, and today's circulation of video reels has made circus casting more efficient than ever before.
While hiring is almost never done by video reel alone, the video is a three- to 10-minute opportunity for performers to sell themselves. As with acting, the video demo is like a calling card-something to catch a producer or talent scout's attention, to spark enough curiosity and awe in them that they're willing to hop aboard a plane and come to watch you work live.
The key to a good demo? "For me, it's very easy," said Ragona. "Good video production. In other words, there's enough light, and it's close enough that we can really see what's going on. It is not your girlfriend standing in the back of a dark circus crowd with her handheld video trying to get a picture of your act."
Yet Big Apple Circus artistic director Paul Binder pointed out that while a tape should be clear, it need not be over-produced. Said Binder: "One camera, turn it on, do your act, and I'll get a sense of what you do."
In fact, adding things like dubbed music can be a big mistake, as the tape should focus on what you can do before a live audience, allowing the talent scout to hear their responses. A sloppy label or a worn videotape can also stop the talent scout from even watching a tape at all.
When the talent scout does view your tape, the tape usually must convince them within the first minute to continue watching. "Try to be honest with yourself, find your strong side, and deliver it right away," said Larible. "For me, I knew facial expressions were a strong point. My eyes are very expressive, so I started with a camera very close up to me, where I am doing a routine in which I was moving my face a lot, and then I go right into my act."
Devick described the video that got her the job as "a little three-minute video with excerpts from different performances that I've been in, and the skills I'm trying to promote. Mine focuses on my clown and my physical character. The demo doesn't necessarily have to have all of your skills in it."
Along with a video reel, performers should always send information on when and where they are performing. If the talent scout is impressed by your demo, he will literally get on a plane to see you work live. Making this happen, however, can require persistence.
"They'll get a dozen videotapes a day of acts from all over the world," said Michael Lane Trautman, a physical comedian performing with the Big Apple Circus Stage Show. "They'll file you away and keep you in mind, but you've got to keep letting them know when and where you're performing. Eventually, they'll get around to saying "Oh, yeah, we could use him for this.'"
TRAVELING CIRCUS CASTERS
Because the circus world is such a tight community, a lot of hiring is also based on word of mouth. Circus producers and talent scouts don't like to deal with agents, so networking becomes crucial in your attempt to have the right person see your act at the right time.
The good news is that there does tend to be a high turnover rate with circuses, as they like to keep acts fresh and original. "We're always looking," said Ragona, "Because we're working on the next several years of production, we have a constant casting need."
In addition to seeing all of the major circuses which appear in the U.S.-including Carson and Barnes, Cirque du Soleil, Circus Vargas, Clyde Beatty Cole Bros, and Haneford Family Circuses-talent scouts for the larger circuses also pay close attention to the talent at the foreign circuses and major world circus festivals, such as the festival of Monte Carlo in January, and the festival of the Circus of Tomorrow in Paris, which is primarily for youth.
Circus talent scouts spend a lot of time traveling, looking for talent, but what are they looking for? Binder explained that he is essentially looking for two things: One, the performer has to be a virtuoso who does a trick cleanly and purely and with a sense of beauty, and two, the performer has to make contact with the audience. "They can't be distant superheroes," said Binder. "They have to be performers who can look you in the eye when they're working, who have the personality of a showman, someone who really wants to be in front of people performing. I don't need the quadruple somersault; I need the guy who's going to do the triple, land it, and have some fun with the audience."
Binder added that any comedy act instantly catches his attention: "After all, people do come to the circus to have fun."
After seeing an act live, a host of other concerns pop into the talent scout's mind: Will you fit into an ensemble? Can they live with you on the show for a year or two years? Are you flexible? Are you willing to change your music? Are you willing to have them design costumes for you? Are you willing to do other things in the show?
Said Binder, "If I see an acrobatic act that I like, I might say to myself, Could they do this on a platform high in the air? Could they do it on a trapeze bar? You really don't want to go and hire an act that is already working, because, you say to yourself, We've already seen this. What else can you do? Often they have another act that they're not performing, that they're working on, something more skillful, or a little better."
CLOWNING AROUND
While one of the easier ways for an actor or performer to enter the circus is as a clown, there are fundamental differences that set clowning apart from acting. "A clown is not an actor," insisted Larible. "An actor is usually somebody who plays a role that has been created and written by somebody else. As a clown, you have to find your character, create your makeup, design your costume, create your script, and you have to be very careful, because that is the character that you're going to be stuck with for the rest of your life. That's why I think Chaplin was a clown and not an actor, because he always performed the same character. So were Buster Keaton, the Marx Brothers, and Laurel and Hardy."
So how do you go about creating that character destined to stay with you for life?
"The good teachers will teach you that your character is an extension of yourself," said Aaron Watkins, a clowning teacher with the Circus Sarasota Training Program in Florida. "A clown is a well-rounded person, just like an actual human being, who experiences a full range of emotions from ecstasy to extreme sadness and everything in between. It's a process of finding some of your eccentricities and magnifying them. A lot of it has to do with observing the world and how you fit into it, and expressing your take on what's going on around you."
"It's about trying different things," said Larible. "At the beginning of my career, I changed makeup 10-20 times. How do you know if you've found something that works for you? You present it in front of an audience. If they laugh, you were right, and if they don't, you weren't. Clowning requires a constant researching of ways to please the audience, because a clown has no net. If you fail with a joke, and they don't laugh, you cannot say, "Let me tell this joke again. Maybe I'll be funny next time.'"
In addition to talent and originality, Larible explained that a great clown needs to be sensitive, a bit of a psychologist, in order to determine what kind of audience he has and know what they want from him.
"You have to have the humility to say, This doesn't work, let me adapt," said Larible. "But you have to do it very quickly, because believe me, if you don't get it in the first minute and a half--you're in trouble."
Developing a character is really only half the work of becoming a marketable clown. Watkins described a well-rounded clown as somebody with two suitcases, one in each hand, that balance each other out: One is character, the other is skills, such as juggling, unicycle riding, stilt-walking, physical comedy. With both of those suitcases full, you've got a nicely balanced clown.
MASTERING THE RING
"You learn as you go along," said Norman Barrett, "and when your legs don't let you jump off horses anymore, you become a ringmaster." Barrett is what you'd call an old-school ringmaster. Currently with the Big Apple Circus Stage Show, he's worked his way up through the ranks, ridden horses, presented bears, elephants, trained parakeets, done a juggling act. Traditionally, this was the career path for those who desired to don the impresario's coat and tails, for the ringmaster's role outside the ring demanded a deep understanding of the functioning of the entire show. He was a liaison between artists and management, a stage manager, production manager, and paymaster.
These days, now that his role is primarily as performer, the ringmaster is often cast from outside the circus. At Ringling Bros., all the ringmasters have either been actors or horsemen, and the only one to ever come from a circus family was Charles Ringling himself.
Triple-threat McGowan has been a singing ringmaster for Ringling's Blue Unit for five months. "I think in some ways I have a smidgen of the ringmaster's traditional responsibility," said McGowan, "in that I'm the one person who really has contact with everybody else in the show. So the role is a unifying force, though not as powerful as it used to be."
The ringmaster is also one of the few circus roles often hired by audition, rather than by a talent scout or producer going to watch a performer in front of a live audience. With no prior circus experience whatsoever, McGowan was hired after responding to an ad in Back Stage. "It was a lot like an Equity principal audition. They tested my range, I sang something I thought was confident-a song from The Baker's Wife called "Proud Lady.' I read some of the copy-the "monster truck' announcements, I call them: "Ladies and gentleman, children of all ages...' They videotaped me, and four hours later, they offered me the job. Either they were really desperate or they really liked me."
Of all his previous experience, McGowan explained that his dance training is what has helped distinguish his performance the most. "Many ringmasters see their job as merely a voice. For me, I like to physically pretend I'm a superhero out there, in these fabulous costumes."
Working with the director, McGowan has developed his own ideas of an ideal ringmaster. "He's a little bit like... if Willie Wonka weren't bitter, and if Harold Hill weren't a shyster, and you throw in a little bit of Ricky Martin, and you've got the ringmaster. The ringmaster really is a character, as much as it is an extension of my personality."
His central function is to project enthusiasm and to "generate wonder," said McGowan, but to do it in a way that is authentic, fresh, and yet large enough to be understood by 5,000-25,000 people.
"No matter how fabulous you sound, or how wonderful you look, an elephant going to the bathroom is always going to upstage you. So you have permission to be huge, to exude this supreme confidence, which we don't get very often as actors-to do something that's outrageously over the top. It's a very specific style in that you're not really relating to other people onstage, but to the audience."
While 90 percent of the performance is scripted, when dealing with animals, mischievous clowns, and death-defying acts, just about anything can happen, though tragedies are rare. "I've been in shows where wild animal trainers have been mauled by lions," said the 64-year-old Barrett, who has been around the circus his whole life. "I've seen people fall off flying trapezes, land in a safety net, bounce out, break both legs. There's a risk in limbs and life at every show, but when anything like that happens, part of the ringmaster's job is to jump in the ring and use whatever facility you need to use at that time to keep the show going."
The main challenge for the ringmaster is simply keeping energy levels up. While many acts are onstage for less than 20 minutes, the ringmaster works throughout the full show-and often there's no official understudy around in the event that he can't.
"I tell people it's kind of like the eco-challenge for singers," said McGowan. "You know, where you have to swim through rapids, climb mountains, run, bike, horseback ride-because in addition to singing, really the ringmaster is like a glorified cheerleader. Most of my announcements are sung, since they're so vocally large."
McGowan is still considering whether he will continue to ringmaster in future years, though he insists that the experience of being exposed to different people, venues, and performing styles, has expanded his abilities "exponentially."
"The thing I've loved the most is the opportunity to learn more," said McGowan. "That's always been part of why I've wanted to be an actor-it's the perfect job for the perpetual student."
LIFE ON THE RAILS
If you want a gritty, tell-all portrayal of what life on the road with the circus is truly like, Bruce Feiler's Under the Big Top and Kristopher Antekeier's Ringmaster!: My Year on the Road With "The Greatest Show on Earth" are quick, eye-opening reads which spare no details in revealing the mechanics of these traveling, underground microcosms.
Feiler describes circus life as the closest thing to a true melting pot, with employees from all corners of the globe, holding wildly varied religious and political beliefs. "There were no educational requirements to keep you out of this company, no skyrocketing property values to keep you out of this neighborhood... no random drug tests to weed out misfits, and no reviews of credit history to exclude miscreants," he writes.
Yet the performers who spoke with Back Stage West described day-to-day circus living as an almost wholesome experience. "I think people tend to equate circus life with carny life," said McGowan, "like it's just a bunch of drifters who come into town and scare the locals. But I find that the circus is really like a community-you've got people who are very family-oriented, people who are very religious, people who aren't."
Many circuses, in fact, even provide a school for children who travel along with their performing parents. "It's a safe place to have children because you're like a moving village," said Barrett. "Everybody kind of watches out for everybody else."
Living quarters will vary wildly depending on which show you work with. The Big Apple Stage Show and Barnum's one-ring Kaleidescape, for example, put performers up in hotels. Ringling Bros.' three-ring circus performers live on the mile-long train, where level of experience and status within the show will determine whether you have a full, apartment-style train car with washer, dryer, and full-sized kitchen (as does the ringmaster) or a "roomette"-a roughly six-foot-square compartment. Many of the smaller tent circuses-or "mud shows"-will require you to provide your own accommodations and transportation, which will often mean driving some kind of trailer or semi-trailer. Water and electricity are often provided, though for food, you're on your own.
Quarters may be cramped, musty, too cold in the winter, too hot in the summer, but there are some things about life on the road that performers remember fondly. "You really do become a citizen of 95 cities," said Ragona. "I know where the best Italian food, the all-night laundry, and the all-night drug store are in every single one. You have to remember, though, that your home, the set up for the circus, the rings, the rigging, that doesn't really change. All that really changes is your drive to work."
MONEY MATTERS
There used to be a wicked little practice in the circus known as "redlighting," where workers to whom a show owed money were simply tossed off a moving train which continued into the night. Times have changed quite a bit, and though there hasn't been much redlighting in the past 70 years, performers are still responsible for setting up their own payment terms and contracts themselves, and making sure they are complied with. Without the aid of an agent or a union contract, performers are solely their own advocates during the negotiating process.
The clowns Back Stage West spoke with outlined the following pay ranges: As a beginning clown, work should be thought of as a paid internship, with the understanding that the experience you are getting is part of your payment. That said, a beginning clown can expect $150-300 per week, a good clown can make $500-1,500 per week, and a great clown can take in $3,000-5,000 per week. If you truly become a star, said one performer, "you will make much more than that."
For beginning ringmasters, McGowan explained that the pay is comparable to what an Equity touring show would pay, but with more shows and no per diem.
Circus contracts are usually for one to two years, with a few weeks of unpaid vacation in the winter. Company schedules usually include eight to 12 performances per week, with Monday and possibly Tuesday off, and multiple performances on Saturdays and Sundays.
Circus performers also have the lucrative option of setting up individual corporate gigs, often with the help of an entertainment agent. One source mentioned that clowns could expect around $150 an hour for these kinds of performances. In these cases, the performer must set a rate with the entertainment agent, who may take anywhere from 10 to 40 percent. Often the easiest way to negotiate is to determine and agree upon how much you expect to receive, period, and let the agent take whatever they require aside from that.
Entertainment agents are usually listed in the yellow pages, and, unlike acting agents, they are not exclusive, so you might have eight different agents booking you for different types of jobs. You don't sign with them, you register with them, send them your video, invite them to see your work, and they then try to book you. Because the circus community is relatively small, other performers are often the best source for recommending a good entertainment agent.
There is also circus work available for school assembly programs, cruise ships, fairs, and festivals. "There is quite a bit of work out there," said Trautman, "as long as you're willing to hustle and chase after it. You have to be able to adapt yourself and your material to different audiences."
If your skills are really good, you also can find work as a consultant for theatres as a circus skills consultant. Said Watkins, "The way I did it, I would just look through Back Stage to see what shows were auditioning. If it looked like anything that was even remotely connected with circus, I'd go to the audition, but I'd also contact them about consulting on whatever circus stuff was involved in the show."
While the work may be out there, there's no guarantee that it will be regular. "Within our business, it's always feast or famine," said Barrett. "It all starts with a phone call, and if the phone call succeeds, you've got to be ready to jump off to wherever."
Being away from home, adapting to a rigorous schedule, keeping the mind and body healthy-these are a few of the challenges that circus performers face on a day-to-day basis.
"There are days where you don't feel like being funny," admitted Larible. "You go there and just go nuts. Like every other human being, we have problems, family tragedies, anything that a human being can have. But you know, that little circle that we call a ring, that is almost a temple for us-where, like in every temple, when you enter, you leave your misery out."
For those who take the plunge, there is always the chance that, like Barrett, they will find the circus to be a lifelong calling. "What keeps me going is that I'm passionately in love with what I do," said Barrett. "As long as God looks after me, I would never want to retire. At the end of the day, it's not just about how much money you put in your pocket. You've got to do what you want to do, because this isn't the rehearsal for life, this is it." BSW
