Read Ebook: The Autobiography of a Clown by Marcosson Isaac Frederick

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Ebook has 245 lines and 18199 words, and 5 pages

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I AM BORN IN A CIRCUS WAGON 1

I BECOME A CLOWN 19

I JOIN THE TENTED CIRCUS 35

I TELL ABOUT CLOWN TRICKS 48

I LEARN ABOUT LIFE 67

I RELATE SOME CLOWN HISTORY 81

I GIVE MY CREED 92

FACING PAGE

"Every step in the making of a clown is hard work" 10

"Laughter loosens the fetters of the brain" 18

"The tall peaked hat was a great aid to clowning" 28

"To produce laughs you must make a serious effort" 38

"Behind the jests of the clown is the sear of sorrow" 46

"To be a successful clown you had also to be a good pantomimist" 58

"Every clown act must tell a story" 64

"I become the friend and confidant of all" 78

"To be a good clown a man must be a student and in earnest" 84

"I have made countless children clap their little hands with glee" 96

"It is good to be a clown" 100

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A CLOWN

I AM BORN IN A CIRCUS WAGON

I suppose it was destiny that I should be a clown because I was born in a circus wagon. It happened in this way. My mother had been a premi?re dancer on the French and English stage and had appeared in many of the great Covent Garden and Drury Lane Christmas pantomimes, but she grew stout, which is always fatal to that kind of dancing. She did not want to leave my father, who was also a dancer and general acrobat, so they invested their savings in a small circus.

In those days--it was more than fifty years ago--Europe was alive with small circuses; most of them very modest, but all furnishing a very popular form of amusement. There were few, if any, theaters scattered throughout the country. Only city folk could enjoy the benefits and pleasures of plays. It followed that the great mass of the country people flocked to the circus, and the coming of one of them was an event. Often the circus showed in a large inclosure built for meetings and public entertainments. There was no top to the structure and in case of rain the people either went home or ran the risk of spoiling their clothes for the privilege of remaining. The shows traveled from town to town in wagons, much smaller but not unlike the big red creaking wagons of the modern American circus.

Up to that time the menagerie was not considered necessary to the circus, but it was good business to have at least one cage with a wild beast in it. My mother's circus had a performing lion who was a sort of patriarch. He was so amiable that he would eat out of the hand of a child and he was so gentle that he had to be prodded into a roar. The circus bill included several acrobatic acts, a juggler, a sleight-of-hand worker, and the faithful lion who was both useful and ornamental. My mother, who was as clever in business as she had been with her toes, managed the show and my father was the principal performer. It was a happy-go-lucky life, this wandering from town to town, in the pleasant sunshine by day and under the stars by night.

During the year so fateful to me our little show had traveled through the south of France and made its way into Spain. On a clear, hot July Sunday we reached Galicia and camped on the edge of a wood. It was there that I was born. My mother and father cooked, ate, and slept in one of the wagons which was for years the traveling home of the family. My mother always told me that the first thing I saw when my little eyes gazed out of the wagon was old Albro, the French clown, who sat in the sun whitening his face for the afternoon performance. More than once my baby cries mingled with the rude jests he hurled at the audiences. He was often my nurse and he told me wonderful stories of his travels in foreign countries. I toddled about the wagons and often slept under the very hoofs of the horses. When I cried late at night my mother would take me out near the lion's cage and tell me that the old fellow would come out and roar if I did not stop. I never cried during the performances, but lay in my little bed in the wagon charmed by the music. I was, in truth, a child of the circus.

As I grew older I became a problem. The circus grew larger and my mother was so much occupied with the details of its management that she had little time for me. A nurse with the show was out of the question. So I was sent to Lisbon, where my father had relatives. I remember very little of my early childhood there. The circus scenes are much more vivid. I do recall that my nurse told me many times that I was to be a circus performer when I grew up. That of course pleased me. In the winters, when the little show was packed away and the old lion rented out to a menagerie in Toulon, my father and mother came to see me. On my fifth birthday I got my first lesson in the alphabet. Instead of teaching me the word cat, the old nurse taught me how to spell lion. You see I knew all about lions and very little about cats.

My parents were very thrifty. It is the French habit. It is, or was, part of the old unwritten French circus law, that as soon as a child was strong enough to stand on his hands he must be put out to work. Likewise it is a tradition that the name of a family in a circus must be carried on by the children and by their children's children. It followed that when I was six years old my father came one January day and took me to London. On the way there he told me that the time had come when I should begin my career. I was only six, but to this day I recall my father's words.

When we got to London it was wet and cold and I was afraid. I hardly knew my father, we had been separated so long. We went to a small hotel much frequented by circus and theatrical people. My father was known to most of them, and more than one big broad-shouldered man clapped me on the shoulder so hard that it hurt. In those days the circus people were rude and a hard lot, and they thought I was as tough as they were.

The very night that we reached London a brawny, red-faced man came to see my father at the hotel. I recall that he was addressed as "Mr. Conrad." I had a sort of shiver when he came into the room. It was curious, too, how he should have affected me, for he was destined to play a very important part in my life. He and my father talked a long time. Every once in a while I heard my name mentioned. Finally the man came over to me, picked me up in one hand , and flung me up in the air. He caught me easily and then let me slide to the floor. After he left my father said:

"Jules, henceforth you are to live with that man. He is to be your father and your teacher. Be a good boy."

Then he told me that I had been apprenticed to the Conrads, who were a famous acrobatic family. The following day my father took me to another hotel where the Conrads were living, for they were performing in the Hippodrome, and he went back to Spain to join my mother. I had made a start in the big business of life and I felt very lonesome.

Perhaps I had better explain right here just what being apprenticed to an acrobatic "family" means. The same thing has gone on in Europe for a hundred years and will go on as long as acrobats keep up their work. Every great group of performers that you see in the circus or elsewhere, no matter if they perform on the flying trapeze, tumble, or ride on bicycles or on horseback, is called a "family." They may be known as the Sensational Sellos or the Marvelous Revellis. Now the interesting thing about it is that they are not real families at all. They develop into groups simply because they take in young apprentices, train and develop them, and make them part of their troupes. Six or seven real families may be represented in one circus "family."

The head of the "family" is always the biggest man of the lot. In circus or acrobatic speech he is known as the "under-stander," because literally he stands at the bottom of the act, as for example in the human pyramid, and holds up all the rest. He must be broad, strong, and powerful in every way. He makes all the contracts, receives all moneys, and is the general manager of the combination. The Conrads were a very well-known "family" and much in demand for circuses all over the Continent and England. Shortly after I became a member of the Conrads the London engagement ended and we went to the famous Circus Rentz in Berlin.

I was given to understand at the start that Mr. Conrad was my boss in all things. He was to provide me with food and clothes and shelter. He controlled my time and my actions day and night. He was not long in beginning my training. We practiced in the rooms of the hotels or boarding houses where we stopped or in the arenas in the morning before the performance began.

The Conrads were what is known as "carpet gymnasts," which means that they worked on the ground and not in the air. It was decided that I should begin as a contortionist because they needed one in a new act they were preparing. I began by practicing what is known in the profession as posturing. This consists of bending back and forth. In order to be a good contortionist you must be a good "bender," that is, bend so close that the two extremes of your body meet. While many people may be born supple, it does not follow that they can become good contortionists, save by long and constant training. Every day one of the Conrads took me by the arms and another took me by the feet and bent me back and forth. It was very hard and painful and often I cried. Then one of my teachers would jeer at me and say:

"Only babies cry. Be a man."

Sometimes I thought I should die from weariness and ache. But as I grew more supple and could bend more closely I began to take a pride in my work. The Conrads encouraged this pride and relented far enough to say a kind word when I showed particular signs of progress.

In addition to my training as contortionist I was being trained as gymnast. I was taught the forward somersault first. I wore a belt with a ring on each side. Stout cords were passed through these rings. With a Conrad on each side holding the cords which acted as an axis I was whirled around. Soon I was able to turn without their help. Then I learned the back somersault in the same way. This constant work hardened my muscles and I became like steel. All the while we were traveling over Europe, visiting the circuses of the great capitals. But I saw little of the cities or their life. It was work or training all day and half the night and then to bed, for the acrobat must have his rest and lots of sleep.

My first public appearance alone followed soon after I became a skilled contortionist. I was heralded as a "Child Wonder" and I did what was known as "The Demon Act." I wore red tights, reddened my face, wore a little tail, and looked like a real little devil. I shall never forget my initial appearance. It was in a huge London music hall. When I came out everybody applauded because I must have been a fearful sight. Every seat seemed to be filled, the band played, and it was a wonderful feeling. I forgot, for the moment, all the hardship and traveling I had endured; the cold, the hunger, and the separation from my parents. All that I realized was that a great, new, animated world was spread before me and that all eyes were upon me. My act was simple contortion work, but the effective red costume seemed to make a hit and I was recalled several times. Henceforth I did this act twice a day for a year. When I got through each time I had to change my clothes, put on flesh-colored tights, and do my share of work with the whole Conrad family.

My apprenticeship to the Conrads lasted ten years, the original term of the indenture. During that time I received no pay. I don't think that in all that period I had as much as a pound to spend on myself. Meanwhile the Conrads had received good money for my appearance, especially for the "Demon Act." But I must say I learned a lot from them despite the fact that they were hard taskmasters.

On the day I was sixteen years of age my slavery ended. The contract with the Conrads was up and I was free. The Conrads wanted me to stay with them, but I had too many scars on my back, too vivid a memory of cold, half-fed nights and long days of relentless practicing. I wanted to go out in the world for myself, and I went.

At the Circus Francisco in Paris I met a young apprentice, a fine young German lad. We had sympathized with each other, and, boy-like, had made a sort of pact that as soon as we got out of bondage we would form a team. "Who knows," I had said, "some day we may have a 'family' of our own." His term of apprenticeship ended with mine; I had his address, so we met in London. He was a good contortionist, having gone through the same rigorous training that I had, and we had little trouble in getting an engagement together. At one time we had four engagements at the same time in London. We had to go from music hall to music hall in cabs, and often we did not have time to change clothes. We were making twenty pounds a week apiece, which is pretty good money for boys barely seventeen. I sent most of my money home to my mother. The circus had failed and she was living in Paris. My father had died in the meantime. You may wonder perhaps how a boy of my tender years was able to take care of himself. But if my years were tender, my back and muscles were hard. Life, too, was hard. I had been raised in a stern school, and it made for independence.

After a year of freedom I became ill. One day I collapsed during my contortion act. I went to a hospital and the doctor told me that I could not work for years. I could hardly believe it, but he said that I had worked so hard that I had strained myself. To make this unhappy chapter of my life short, I was in and out of a hospital for three years.

When I came out I felt weak, but the first thing I did was to try some of my old contortion tricks. But there was a great wrench in my back and a sharp pain shot all through my body. The cold sweat broke out all over me. I tried again, and with the same result. Then I realized what had happened. I had become stiff, and my days as contortionist were over. I was barely twenty years old, and yet I had lived a whole lifetime of work and denial. What was I to do?

I BECOME A CLOWN

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