No single image anytime in my life that I can recall, captivated me so instantly and fully as did what I saw in the window of the Western Auto store down Fourth Street in Santa Rosa. I might have been ten-years-old at the moment of conversion into the world of sawdust and spangles.
There, behind the glass, my spirit was captured by the spectacle of model circus wagons standing atop flatcars. The shapes. The bright gaudy colors. The look of a wondrous world coming into town! I’d never seen anything like this in my life.
I went back to Western Auto, everyday, to stand and stare at the magic. To study the wagons. To marvel at the festive decorations . And then, Marcks Circus was gone.
Not long after, I learned what balsa wood was at the Toy and Model Shop of Fifth Street. I learned how to use exacto blades and tester’s glue. I taught myself how to cut pieces of wood and fit them together to form my own crude circus wagons. Both Playland-at-the-Beach, across the street from where I was raised in San Francisco, and the Marcks Circus would compete for role-model attention and space when a 4x8 slice of plywood was installed by the family in our garage. My own private workshop!
In a year or so, I was riding a bus from San Francisco, across the bay, to a town called El Cerrito. Once it reached San Pablo Avenue, I had been told to look for Mechanics bank. Ask the bus driver! He let me off on the corner, and I walked up to Oak Street, turned right, and looked for 525.
Don Marcks, maybe 15-20 years my senior, was a rather solemn soul, yet ready to share samples from his collection, if at a slight remove. He walked me out to a large shed across the backyard grass, invited me in, and proceeded to open drawers, and remove sample wagons. I got to hold a few in my hands. I could have gone through the whole lot, but he made this first visit more of a sampler. Maybe he wanted not to soil the mystique.
We became friends, thanks to his friendly letters and sharing spirit.. In some, his unfiltered opinions about circus shows leaked through, which assures us that circus fans did hold sharp views, however privately held.
October 19, 1955: “Yes I saw the Ringling show this year several times for I was in Seattle, Richmond, San Francisco and Los Angeles on the show .... As for the specs, they could drop them without anybody noticing it. [I did not agree!] ... I felt they had some very good acts and thought the show was good except that it was too slow and too long. Without a doubt it could have been speeded up and cut at least an hour off the time. Boy to sit and watch a circus for three hours for the public is a long time and I don’t care what anyone says, those seats of theirs are the most uncomfortable things I’ve ever sat on”
I think it was closer to 2-1/2 hours, but without an intermission, the complaint was valid. For myself, I could have watched it many more times. It gave off a certain subtle enchantment.
As for the frugal seats of one Arthur M. Concello, for sure they were not designed to pamper. Even I, at age 14, felt a bit cramped. Which makes me wonder, for the first time, if some patrons remembered the confined seating and were thus less inclined to return in following seasons? I actually have fond memories of the Clyde Beatty Cole Bros. chairs. Grand!
“Will probably see you when my show is displayed in Antioch next month”
On another of his display dates, I went with him to help set the whole thing up.
A couple of my early wagons, on display at the Toy and Model Shop, in Santa Rosa
Don often offered me excess or superseded parts of his own model. Jan 28, 1956: “Just got to thinking and I do have a few ½ inch scale ring horses that you could have if you wanted. They are in various positions and are brown. ... There will be a small indoor circus at the high school in Petaluma. I plan to attend and if you should perhaps be there I’d bring along the horses along the horses for your then — Let me know for sure about this?"
My scale was closer to 1/4", and so I found his figures rather heavy, and somehow they didn’t fit my layout. He did give me some (very heavy) wheels that did fit my wagons. He was then switching over to plastic.
Oct. 13, 1958: “Show [Ringling] definitely lacks something ... Perhaps it is the poor band .... and the fact they don’t announce much stuff... However, one must admit that they still have more and bigger than any show on the road.”
We grumbled for many years over the demise of Ringling-Barnum under canvas, and were thus, I believe, prone to be more critical of the indoor shows that followed.
Wagons I made in my mid to late teens. What a difference Don's donated wheels made.
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His letters were typed out, single spaced, and most of them needed another two or more pages . And in some, I can’t spot a single typo! I have dozens of them, and they all will eventually reside in my archives at Illinois State University, under the aegis of the Milner Library's Maureen Brunsdale. Don Marcks will never be forgotten there.
Next: Going to the Circus with Don
first posted 11.8.19
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