July 28, 1999

Circus carries on big tradition

By Garret Leiva
Herald editor
      It is 2:30 in the morning and Cindi Cavallini is running around in her pajamas trying to catch a wayward Friesian Stallion. Twelve hours from now she'll be adorned in sequins, moving five of these massive horses in staccato step unison to the delight cheers of hundreds. In between she'll hope for one thing - a nap.
      Life on the road with the world's largest tent circus is an exhausting endeavor: two performances a day, 7 days a week, 34 weeks a year. Aside from the 5:30 a.m. wake-up calls, there is also the small matter of moving a 396 foot by 146 foot big top and 100 exotic and domestic animals by semi-trailer. Then lest you forget; packing it all up.
      "There is no in-between ... it is a 24 hour a day job. It's something that you either get totally accustomed to or you just don't make it," said Cavallini, during a brief reprieve Sunday from her equine duties for the Carson & Barnes 5-Ring Circus at the Northwestern Michigan Fairgrounds in Blair Township.
      For every performer or worker, the show must go on is not a clich‚ but a job requirement. A traditional American-style circus, the Carson & Barnes Circus has been on the road for more than 60 years and has always operated on one day stands.
      "People find it magical that we take an empty field and turn it into a city for the day and by tomorrow there will be only be a few tire tracks left," said circus ringmaster, Jon Moss III. "The saying is 'wagon tracks and popcorn sacks' but here we have a crew pick up the sacks."
      Creating a "city that moves everyday," Moss noted that the show is broken up into 22 different departments, including a tent crew, prop crew, water crew, elephant department, cookhouse, electrical, mechanical, concessions and brigade. During a two hour span, more than 80 vehicles carrying circus equipment, animals, people and paraphernalia will arrive on the grounds to create the only five-ring show on the road in the world.
      Creating a circus with big top dimensions the size of three football fields day in and day out is both an adventurous and arduous task. As co-owner of the Carson & Barnes Circus for 65 years, DR Miller carries on the family tradition started in 1937 as the tiny, one ring Miller Bros. Circus.
      At age 83, Miller still travels with the circus he founded, along with his father and brother, for half of the 8 month season. "We're the last of the big tent circuses and its a dirty shame because the people that do come out really enjoy it," said Miller, who at 7 years old rode his pony from town to town, passing out advertising for his father's earlier circuses.
      A former low wire and trapeze performer with his wife, Isla, Miller tries to evoke the traditions of the tent circus he saw as a young boy.
      "The circus was the greatest source of entertainment back in those days. People would drive 100 miles for a show at 2 p.m. and afterward go home to do their chores so they could come back that night," he said.
      Today, however, the very act of just bringing that type of entertainment to a town can be cost prohibited. Operating the five-ring circus 7 days a week runs $25,000 a day, Miller said. "Back in 1927-29, Ringley Bros. Circus cost $22,000 with 2,200 people on the payroll, 800 head of horses and numerous other animals traveling on four trains," noted the long-time circus owner.
      Despite the changing economic times and constant nomadic way of life, those like ringmaster Jon Moss find the 9 to 5 life less than appealing. Working in a glass maker shop for two years before becoming a ringmaster in 1994, Moss still finds the concept of punching a time clock "fascinating."
      "Those of us here on the show that really love the circus and have made it our lifestyle, we see the townspeople and wonder how they can live in the same town everyday," said Moss, who has been married five years to his wife, Reyan, also a circus performer.
      For Moss, whose father joined the circus shortly after he was born instead of the ministry, that other life - with the white picket fence and manicured lawn - has never looked appealing. Even on those occasional overcast and rainy "circus days."
      "On a cold, rainy day at 7 in the morning and I've just spilled coffee on the dashboard while driving my tractor-trailer, I look out and see the lights coming on in a house with that perfectly manicured lawn," he said.
      "I think about the people in there having worked their entire life for that little tiny square piece of earth, and even though it's dry inside, for some reason I'd much rather be in that truck."