Kelly-Miller Bolts to Texas for Early Opening ... John Ringling North II on the Lot Supervising Rehearsals ... Judkins Promoting Lone Star Dates ...

In a dramatic departure from its ordinary Hugo, Oklahoma March opening, Kelly-Miler Circus jumped 700 miles this week into Brownsville, Texas, where its “official” 2009 tour begins tomorrow, Thursday, for a four-day, 10 show frame.

Move was made partly to avoid expense-draining sits in Hugo and add early revenue into the coffers. Last season, total fuel bills were "up over" $100,000.00 from the previous tour, and the profit margin is slim, according to show manager James Royal in an e-mail to Showbiz David.

Circus owner John Ringling North II okayed a plan by Jim Judkins to book the early Texas dates which Judkins' shuttered Circus Chimera used to play. Judkins "knows the ‘valley’ well and we decided to have a joint venture there,” says Royal. “As you know, while in winter quarters it is all cash flowing in the wrong direction.”

North was on the lot in Brownsville, actively engaged in production meetings and rehearsals, monitoring his third-season show as it takes shape under the general direction of ringmaster and performance director John Moss.

North’s engaging enthusiasm has been something of a surprise to staff members ever since he bought the Kelly-Miller title back in 2006. Nephew of famed circus owner and producer John Ringling North, the younger North brings authentic Ringling blood back to a tent circus at a time when American shows are struggling to stay solvent over sawdust and find new ways to reinvigorate public patronage.

At one run-through that had North's creative attention, clowns Steven Copeland and Ryan Combs, booked to handle comedy chores, were asked by the boss to spot their chase pants routine while a tiger is chasing an explorer who is chasing his pants. “It is going to be very wacky!” blogged Steven.

The world of the internet promises to continue following this show in possibly day-to-day detail, which is potentially good news for fans. Steven and Ryan have up and running a diary-like account of their day to day activities on the circus. (www.steveandryan.blogspot.com). It well could become the hit big top blog of the season.

Kelly-Miller is offering this year what Ben Trumble, high on the individual performers, calls "classic circus." Trumble was in Hugo taking a look at all of its shows getting ready to hit the trails soon. North has tigers and elephants, a big group horse-ridding act (a rarity in today's market), fliers and jugglers. Music is produced electronically (act CDs pre-loaded), with live drumming enhancements added by an old college buddie of North's, Lucky. One of the most delicious rumors out of Hugo has it that a new production number is “out of The Greatest Show on Earth” (The film). One act awaiting visa clearance, and another felled by an injury, has made necessary temporary performer substitutions, according to Royal, whose pickup truck was on the fritz as of late last night, holding him back in Hugo.

A source in Hugo reported that some of the riders originally signed to work in Armando Loyal's horse number did not pan out, and so others had to be recruited at the last minute and may need the extra Texas time to perfect their equestrianship.

Kelly Miller will head back to Hugo for a March 28 date. The show is slated to pitch canvas in Milwaukee, prior to the resumption of the circus parade in July.

Added Royal in his e-mail, “John and I have strived to create a show where ALL members of the company feel valued and appreciated."

They might also feel part of a most interesting, potentially exciting Ringling story unfolding.

New Musical in L.A.: Minsky's -- Can Song-and-Dance-Terrific Tuner Dazzle Its Way Out of a Lame Book?

New Musical Review

Minsky’s, at the Ahmanson Theatre

Media Update, 2/9. The show opened to generally tepid reviews -- so far. Surprisingly, The New York Times sent Charles Isherwood out to review the opening; he filed a kindly skeptical notice for its New York prospects. A dismissive review in the Los Angeles Times borders on a pan. A few blog sites are expressing keen enthusiasm.

LOS ANGELES, January 22 – Watching the powerhouse production numbers in this promising new tuner that lift it to Broadway heights, is much like watching an old movie musical whose songs and dances soar as high as its tediously silly dialogue scenes sink, leaving you waiting for the real stuff to resume. During the waits, to be sure, there is a fair amount of miscellaneous shtick, jokes and gags, some of which keep a sporadically plodding book from going under. What might it take to turn this promising vaudeville romp into a viable Broadway success? In its current condition, witnessed during the second night of previews, Minsky’s is in need of a major script overall. (According to program notes, the libretto is said to be an original.)

At the center of the musical’s “conflict” is self-serving city politician, Randolph Sumner (George Wendt), seizing an issue likely to be found in a risque troupe of Burlesque entertainers: They’ve got to be raided and shut down. The troupers are directed and goaded on with 42nd Street crackle by one Billy Minsky, played by actor Christopher Fitzgerald in a Robert Morse vein. Enter a not very convincing love interest when Summer’s uppity do-good daughter, Mary, essayed a little too wobbly here by Kathrine Leonard, accidentally meets the Minsky man. She comes across as a Woody Allen scripted Mia Farrow in the key of psycho-nerdy. The two share some pleasant though too pleasantly passive duets, and therein lies the problem. Minsky, fearing his new heartthrob will find out who he actually is, gets a staff member (the hilariously droll Boris, executed to perfection by Paul Vogt) to assume his identity. But this whole character identity thing is more belabored than engaging. Another disguise has Sumner going in drag so he can invade the cast. Rather than magnify the dramatic tension to match those sky-high dance workouts staged by director-choreographer Casey Nicholaw, these threadbare plot contrivances trivialize it into a meandering smorgasbord.

At the top of the credits should go the team of Strouse and Berkenfield (that would be 80-year-old vet tunesmith Charles Strouse and Susan Berkenhead). These two, in lush collaboration, have delivered a sassy and relevant, rarely flagging slate of old-line show tunes. Only could their output include one or two more modern-styled ballads. Here is a score that older theatre buffs will tap their toes to; the younger set may find it, straddled to all the corny scripting shenanigans, a tad musty and yawnfull.

Fifty years ago on the Great White Way, the Minsky's that opened at the Ahmanson Theatre (the show was originally slated to go on the boards 10 years ago) might have done the trick with its gaudy bawdy gags and crackerjack songs. As it is, it’s a doubtful prospect without more savvy development. That may come, for all we know.

Show is loaded with Broadway-ready talent, all except for Leonard (or the character she must play). Christopher Fitzergerld gets the role right on, although he or the role tends to wear thin and one-sided into the second half; slyly amusing John Cariani produces, in tandem with Rachel Dratch, the score’s most memorably inventive gem, the anti-musical “I Want a Life.” Kevin Cahoon as piano tunesmith Buster is perfectly charming, and Beth Leavel (Maisie) is a Mermanesque asset. They've got songs to sing, they do, and these deliciously crafted numbers bear attractive shades of Kander and Ebb, Jerry Herman (in the truly thrilling “Nothing Lasts Forever”) and even a touch of Sondheim (“Home”) Only two tunes seem a little too modest for the rush of high-energy scoring — “Keep It Clean” and what feels like an obligatory romantic ditty, “Eyes Like that.” It’s the sort of a score that would make a good CD for those of a certain age.

Because of the disparity between the production dynamics and a plodding book, the show jerks and creeks in spots, and a few items are outright side-bar gratuitous, stopping a potential momentum cold in its tracks. Indeed, it seems as if the team felt obligated to honor a standard book it don’t really believe in. Were Minksy's to be told in a revue format, with one character (say, the Jimmy Durante-ish Gerry Vichi, a perpetually welcome clown) serving as narrator at intervals, and the plotting twists kept tautly in toe, this new musical might realize a more effective trajectory in style, unity and rhythm. And that’s what it needs the most. The producers might benefit by taking a look at the late Peter Stone's ingenious book for Will Rogers Follies.

In its current preview state, all problems point to book writer Bob Martin, also responsible for the generally workable though padded script that made a recent Broadway visitor, The Drowsy Chaperone, a multiple Tony award darling that left town after a modest run, by today's "hit show" standards, of 674 performances. He has his work cut out. Short of a return to the drafting boards, Minsky’s is more likely to be raided and shut down in L.A. than anywhere in the New York where it no doubt longs to go.

[One-time Variety contributor David Lewis is the author of Broadway Musicals: A Hundred Year History and Flower Drum Songs: The Story of Two Musicals]

Irvin Felds’s Epic Circus World & Ego Revisited

Had it come to pass as he gloriously envisioned, Irvin Feld’s Florida circus theme park would have crowned the man as one of the greatest American showman who ever lived.

Instead, Feld’s debatable legacy will depend on the kindness of future historians, writers and thinkers objectively removed from his manipulative powers. Of course, in the affirmative, it can be readily advanced that Feld's extravagant ballyhoos and historically imaginative press agentry gave him and his circus the aura — or should I say the illusion -- of greatness, at least to those for whom circus art is a secondary pleasure.

I have always felt that, far more interesting than the circus the Felds produce, are the Felds themselves. They are so utterly, shamelessly ruthless. I have sometimes felt like an amateur psychiatrist trying to unearth their sundry motives beyond taking rightful credit for a job well done. Among those motives, the inelegant removal of one Arthur M. Concello from American circus history. Timely kudos and formidable profits were never enough for this family, which could well prove itself more lasting and corporately successful at running the circus than did the five brothers from Baraboo who started the whole thing up in1884.

The Florida Park is the subject of an informative King Pole tribute reprinted in the latest issue of Bandwagon by Don Stacey, whose agitated references to his and my differing takes on Mr. Feld’s legacy always leave me feeling perversely flattered, if nothing else. As seen through Stacey’s rhapsodic pro-Feld eyes, the park looks like a great enterprise that missed its mark for reasons Mr. Stacey seems never to have understood or accepted. In fact, so enamored was Stacey of the park, providing a wonderful account of its many inventive attractions (and they do impress, I must say), that his sorrow over its failure cries out for a sympathetic explanation from someone. So, here I am, volunteer grief counselor on the spot, Don.

“Circus,” in the minds of the American public, is a once a year holiday. It comes to your town. You might take the time to patronize it. Then it leaves. Your typical non CFA citizen no more desires to live the circus experience other days in the year than he does to relive Christmas or Easter or the Fourth of July except on its precise calendar date. This, World, I offer you for your belated consideration.

About the curiously over driven Felds, there is something all too predictable about how they succeed and how they don’t — confirmed by the sudden closure of Kenneth Feld’s critically endorsed Kaleidoscape: Clinging to their security blankets marked “Ringling” and “Disney,” they have no patience with their own ground-breaking creativity, some of it quite remarkable. The senior Feld struck out with more than one venture, for example with his attempt to tour the cream of the Monte Carlo Circus Festival gold under an original tongue twisting title I am hard put to recite. Feld’s Florida dream was, within a few years, taken away from him by Mattel Toy, who then owned the circuses he ran. The failure of Circus World, we must reason, is likely not the failure of Irvin Feld’s grandiose vision but of his failure to realize ahead of the outcome what he himself would teach us ---- that circus as perceived by the average mortal is a fleeting annual event. Kenneth Feld also floundered, if I am journalistically correct, with a chain of Ringling retail stores, none of which ever came to mall near me. And there are plenty of malls near me.

Someday, perhaps not until after Kenneth Feld has left this planet (for what author out there, other than possibly Don Stacey, wishes to risk having his or her life invaded by an ex-CIA operative working spin control for the Felds?), a writer will do justice to the egotistically limitless Irvin Feld, a fascinating character who injected a lavish and lively ballyhoo aesthetic into the Ringling-Barnum enterprise and whose most promising bid for immortality in the Florida sunshine went down in asphalt over sawdust. To circus man Floyd King, Mr. Stacey wisely defers, giving King the last word via my book Behind the Big Top, for which the last word, during an interview granted me, was uttered. I vividly recall meeting with Mr. King inside a mobile home in a woodsy area outside of Macon, Georgia and being amused to hear a veteran trouper sum up what did not go as planned for the ambitious dream of Irvin Feld. “A complete flop. The worst location in the world. They thought they’d get an overflow from Disney World. Instead of that, Disney got all their business.”

2/6/09

Touring Death Trails for Fifty Years and Counting: They Call it the Circus

“Not one circus will be left in ten years,” predicted a top-drawer press agent not long after parting company with the Ringling-Barnum show. He was famed Roland Butler, a victim of drastic Ringling rethinking in a new age when the lure of TV advertising favored the ever-experimentally minded John Ringling North (above). ... And that was over fifty years ago (okay, my age can not be denied). Butler’s comments to a friend were mentioned to me, then a kid, in a letter from circus fancier and collectibles dealer Harry (Doc) Chapman, who at the age of 10 could have seen Ringling under canvas in 1893 ... Wandering back today through boyhood correspondence, how favored I was by a steady stream of historically rich letters from Mr. Chapman, who addressed me in any number of ways, one being “P.T. Hammarstrom.” I should will these mighty missives to the Pfennigs of Ohio.

... Some things never change: Back then, old timers talked up the older shows; and now, technically, I’m one, sometimes ruing performances of yesteryear. Back then, JRN turned the circus into a “nightclub” act they said; today, Cirque du Soleil is charged with similar crimes. But the beat of the big top somehow goes on, and it’s still out there on halfway hospitable death trails managing to stay alive. Chapman recalled a time, around 1955 or '56, when Ringling had sold about 675 tickets going into a night show in or around Rochester, NY, and decided to blow the date.

“Full house” or “straw house” are aberrational norms too often expected by yours impatient, who now and then must remind himself that showbiz of all stripes rarely plays to full houses. But, oh, today’s tenacious tenters (all of last season’s contenders are still in biz, as far as I know) seem to be perfecting the art of a fifteen-percent house salvation. In my impetuous youth, I don’t recall empty tents. Gotta tell you, today’s woefully under-attended shows kind of get me down; and they might turn me yet from chronic critic to born-again booster rehabbing to redeem himself in the eyes of the every-protective CFA ... Reading back through my teeth-cutting correspondence, what a pesky know-it-all I was — oops, was? Maybe it was my sheer verbosity that sunk John Swann’s otherwise engaging Circus Review, and caused one reader, Sony Edgar (Henry, was that you?) to tactfully take it to task. I turned out a bloated essay, “How Much Circus Does a Circus Need.” What rhetorical quicksand it was for Swann’s exasperated subscribers; some may have suffocated to death into the third paragraph .. And, still, I ramble on.

Big tops continue to face big hurdles. Now, Big Bertha’s Kenneth Feld finally appears, it would appear, in court to answer charges of animal cruelty and/or domestic insensitivity before, not a jury (how lucky, I’d venture), but before one judge. Trial was said to have kicked off last Wednesday. Considering the money Feld has and the lawyers he can afford, and considering his apparently exemplary track record in handling animals (I am a believer until otherwise convinced), I’d venture to guess that he will walk free; so will those perky pachs ... Said the Big Show’s big man to The New York Times, “I love these animals.”

Circuses reinvent themselves to stay on life support. Now that Big Apple’s founder Paul Binder is officially retired, yet he and new artistic director Guillaume Dufresnoy are off to France shopping for fresh talent. Mr. D. sounds stable and eager. Promisingly, says BAC executive director, Garry Dunning, to the Nashua (New Hampshire) Telegraph: “He has a clear and individual perspective for the company that’s going to be exciting to watch as it grows.” That’s the right start. Tanbark tycoons need full autonomy to find their way.

Out of the Past: Ringling ‘20s aerial icon Tiny Kline in her new book is said to lend a clear impression that Art Concello more or less stole his seat wagon design from Captain Bill Curtis. I’ll hold judgment until I see details. I’ve seen the Curtis wagons, and structurally they bear virtually no resemblance to what Concello invented. Speaking about seat wagon lure, we’ve added a third person to our circle of addicts. Kelly Miller’s own James Royal admits to his own flights of fancy. “Many is the hour I have spent trying to dream up the ultimate seat wagon.” ... Also out of the past and now appearing at the Ringling Circus Museum, formerly known as the John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art, is the majestically restored private car Wisconsin, in which John and Mable sometimes resided during the touring seasons of 1905-1916. The museum’s sugar daddy, Howard C. Tibbals, evidently assisted in this latest installation. BTW: are those Rubens still somewhere on the premises?

Oh, how I’d love to ring up Roland Butler, where he still ringable, and ask how long he thinks today’s big tops will be around ... I'll defer to the still-unsinkable sawdust world. Mr Royal, please, a seat at your wagon.


[photos of John Ringling North, 1949, from Circus Anonymous blog. Above, on his private car the Jomar. I couldn't resist; what a work of cinematic art this impresario was]

first posted 2/6/09

Sunday Morning Scramble: Ringling's Latest, Not the Greatest? The Pope Pets a Tiger; Adult Aussie Midways & Bello's Accidental Hairstack ...

Down there in Florida, the Felds have failed so far to impress one fan, who got little zing, zang or zoom from a show of the same name. He's Jack Hunter, who rues that the thrill is gone. Says Jack, exclusive to Showbiz David, “It appears to be a long season ahead. I’m still trying to figure out if what I saw was a magic show or illusion, rock show, a little bit of Broadway or some portion of that thing that comes out of Canada” Jack, what you saw was the Feld smorgasbord (likely inspired by CDS’s Believe), maybe this time it’s just a little too smorgy for your taste.

Now, in all fairness to the Felds at this premature point, I glanced in cyberspace for some reviews; found none. And I’m still intrigued by what the Felds, in their best creative flash —- or creative desperation --- are trying to do to shake the smorgasbord up this way or that ... Heck, John Ringling North is perfect here for a contrasting cameo, for last night on TCM I was struck by how prominent a part his character plays in probably the finest circus film ever made, Trapeze. He is in and out of the circus arena in Paris (what a pleasure to see the acts in a stable ring), until the triple is caught and he’s informing the lucky ones that he'll be taking them to dinner; They by then want nothing more than to appear with Ringling in New York. Paris: you'll have to wait. Remember when the name Ringling was the envy of the circus world?


Papal Petting: The Pope himself was entertained in his gargantuan Roman digs by some jugglers, and also charmed by a baby lion whom he fondly petted ... And while we are here in the tent of divinity, I’m touched by what the Espana family, in Sarasota, have set out to do in their new show called Cirquesa by framing a storyline around the death in 2004 on Ringling of Dessi Espana in a fatal fall. This by way of Covington Connected, in the Sarasota Herald Tribune: “the story enters the dreams of a boy whose mother passes away before fulfilling her promise to take him to the circus.” Okay, you know about me and stories over sawdust, but I’m hoping the family can realize the catharsis and closure it surely deserves. Fabulously fond are my memorizes of the superbly dazzling Flying Espanas with Circus Vargas in the mid-1980s (Ramon, where are you now?) Those passionate show stoppers were Tito Tito terrific!

All or nothing at all: Seems that the Aussie circus scene might be tainted or — how to put this — “high” on the concession racks. Inside word points to vicious rumors, possibly advanced by envious smaller tenters over the bigger tops, that drugs are being pushed in or around secretive midway spots ... Heck, I have no trouble believing this considering how I have been forced to perceive recklessly creative Circus Oz performers. Even that horny robotic dog they had when they last blitzed Berkeley must be test marketing Viagra for mutes ... And, hey, here’s where we part company (divorce proceedings are in progress): They are neither great circus nor great theatre, but an inventive amalgam in defiance of tradition that sometimes amuses. I am all for their kinky inventiveness, if only they could take their theatrical urges all the way. And if only, pardon my prudery, they would cease and desist from calling themselves a “family show.”.

All or nothing, part 2: The Nock family have never fully impressed me. When JRN booked their sway pole antics in 1954, “nerveless Nocks” ads promised breath-taking mid-air exchanges, but when I caught up with them the next year, those passing swoops were so cumbersomely careful that the act left me as unthrilled as Jack above. The only thing I really like about their act were the thrilling descents -- each came head first down the tall spars ... And then, nocking on, here’s pretty boy "clown" Bello Nock (left), ex-Ringling star of eight years, revealing how he got his signature hair stack. By sheer chance, he claims, following a sunburn at age 11 when, headache induced, he just let his hair grow. Hmmm, is that also how the great Italian jester, Fumagalli, got the same hair style? Or did one of them copy the other? You’re not going to like me for this: Bello has never struck me as a "greatest clown" in this or any other circus, for the following two reasons. 1. Simply put, the best jesters are subversive outcasts, bullies and blowhards, show offs and losers and misfits who pretend to importance in the spangled shadows. They are us. Bello is too cute, harmless, innocent; 2: with rare exceptions, clowns should not come off as accomplished performers themselves, for this only dilutes their frail common-man persona. Bello is too good an acrobat. In a novel and highly commercial way, I'll admit, his boyish charm tickled moppets who are said to have loved him. If only I could have seen Bello at Polack when I was a boy ...

Very sad L.A. Story: Sometimes now, it feels lonely on Sunday mornings without the Los Angeles Times — the one I recall from even five years ago. Now at L’Amyx, I read the NYT, a great paper, but I miss the other one. I’m about the only tea drinker in here with newspaper; others with laptops, maybe a book or two, and school papers. The "city of angels" is a place born, carved out and cut up, glamorized and scandalized by many rapes, and surely the latest one, I’d say, is the rape of the Times by a hack Chicago real estate mogul billions in debt. I love LA, and I miss her once great newspaper that for years, I looked forward to every Sunday ... For all literate Angelinos, I mourn.

All or nothing at all. Next time soon, a Ringling private car is restored; a pachyderm to the circus is born, an ugly lawsuit lingers on. Now if only Mr. Feld could work the birth of a baby bull into his smorgasbord. Jack, how about that?

Hey Sage! Anybody out there on the midway? Two people? NONE? Pack it up and down to the runs. By the way, did Bello return my call yet?

Friday First Draft Fangless, I Think -- Therapy Parrots to Seat Wagon Sightings ... L'Amyxed Up for Take Out ...

World, come in! Now and then, a peep from foreign shores, and it's about time. About thirty percent of the traffic on this here midway comes in accented, and I wonder as I wander what they are thinking. So, how nice to hear from a real Aussie, Barry Nixon, who chirps, “Know your cribbing is read and appreciated." Fond memories have I for the Aussies (we will table Circus Oz for the moment -- but what a stunner, Oz under a tent!). In their Outdoor Showman, once edited by the gentlemanly Richard Holden, when I was once young and full of myself (as if I no longer am), I got published many times, leading up to my big break in the pages of Variety. And during that period taken for granted (blame it on my youth), a Japanese scholar, Dr. Shigi Yajima, who also scribbled for OS, writing knowledgeably on world circuses, and I think teaching kids on one of the Australian shows, struck up a congenial correspondence with me. Had I only been more internationally grateful and sustained the good vibes into my more prolific times. We might have met, and what a pleasure it would have been to compare views on circus with a soul so far away from my own world. From what I have been able to gather, this kind and knowing man who so graciously reached out to me is no longer with us: How sad, the many chances that pass us by ...

Zoo’s in session, kids: (Me, a zookeeper, what a laugh; I tell friends “give me poetry, not biology”). Over there, somewhere near the Indian Ocean, animal trainer Patricia White floats her faithfully certain views on animal emotions my way, causing a whole lot of mostly constructive debate. (My regrets, Ms. White, over your getting unfairly battered around in here.) Now, fully aware that the views of say, a Casey McCoy are in rational sync with the majority of scientific opinion on the subject (no evidence whatever that animals have feelings), still, it’s what Ms. White has to say that plays to my romantic side: "Have I 'loved' some of my animals? Absolutely. Have they 'loved' me back? In some cases, in their own language, in their own lion-tiger-dog-horse- animal way, I'm sure of it." ... Others have added smart insights, among them Ben Trumble: “We’re hardwired to look for emotion in every human nuance, it’s hard to imagine that other animals don’t share the same schematic ... Animals learn through play and its’ enjoyable.” And Alan as in Cabal, somewhere up there in Maine, I presume, reports a wry sense of humor from his Coon cat Scooter: “He steals things and hides them around the house. Occasionally he returns them by dropping them in front of me. And laughs. He also quite obviously adores me, as I do him.” You heard it here, folks ...

Concessions to Concessions: I caused a few brain cells to work overtime with my recent rant. Says Henry of Edgar, making a point I had overlooked but kind of sort of agree with: I, too, can tolerate candy butchers working the seats AS LONG AS THE SHOW DOES NOT STOP, THANK YOU. “What makes our business look bad is the unexpected cost — the huge adult ticket necessary to use the free kid ticket. But the worst is the constant interruption of the show for pitches” Yes, Henry, let the popcorn pushers push so long as a stream of action streams thrillingly by ... And another high thinker, elevated balloon man Dick Dykes, points the finger of blame at a major culprit: “The trouble with the Ringling show they want it all! And when it gets right down to it, they are keeping a lot of people from attending any circus after they get done with them! I’m sorry but that’s the way I see it.” Dick, those Ringling designer snow cones are Exhibit A in your favor. Exhibit B: When I purchased a $3.00 reserved seat ticket in 1955, the cost of the program magazine was 25 cents. Compare that modest ratio to today's cost.

Seat wagon addicts (all three of us), this one’s for US: In the current issue of Bandwagon, Bill (Buckles) Woodcock mentions the ingeniously designed Art Concello seat wagons, remarking that they might not have saved that much labor time. In their favor? “Knowing they would not fall down as I have seen some seats do.” ... Years ago, good friend and fellow seat-wagon addict Bob Mitchell drove me miles south of Sarasota, down past an open field, and there in the distance, half mired in dirt, was an emblem of a lost golden age, fading away, and I thought I’d found a shred of the promised land. Through high grass this wimp walked (not being told that rattle snakes lurked about), and when at last he touched the frame of the wagon, into the rear compartment he climbed, imagining it to be where Unus or Del Oro, Tonito or La Norma had once costumed up and rested between shows. Is anybody still with me?

End Ringers: Cyber courier Don Covington forwards news of a big PBS TV documentary to be set in and around Big Apple Circus. I only hope it’s more exiting than this press release promise: Cameras to be aimed “not just under the big top, but far behind it — into what circus folk call 'the backyard,' the place where the trailers are parked and the real heart of the circus beats.” Not in the ring? ... Guy Laliberte, profiled by a Brit reporter over in Vegas for the Independent to check out Believe. She, one Alice Jones is fairly dazzled by the king's boast of being "The No. 1 entertainment company in the world," but not by his latest offering, starring illusionist Criss Angel. Although she found some elements to her liking, “the show never really takes off.” Post premiere, Laliberte’s concession of non-success pointed to an off-course misfire. “Cirque doesn’t work with stars,” said he, “It’s not an easy thing to do. We are a collective.” ... Circus animals are evidently emotional enough to calm the jittery among us. Here’s "service animal" Sadie, a parrot profiled in The New York Times (you just have to read the story; in last Sundays magazine), who moves about on the shoulder of troubled Jim Eggers, sensing his every mood, and issuing warnings: “It’s okay, Jim. Calm down, Jim. You’re alright, Jim. I’m here, Jim.” Oh, I had so much more stuff, and I'm just getting warmed up, but Gerti, my service turtle just whispered, “Fangs, David, fangs. Time for your daily dose of meditation?”

Alan, have you and yours yet tried off-Broadway? ...

[photo above of Sadie and Jim3 Eggers, by Jeff Riedel/The New York Times]

First posted January 16, 2009

Not Just the USA, Circus Ticket Sales Plunge in Other Countries; Parents Wanting Banned Animals Back in the Ring

Think we have it bad over here? We’re not alone. From Australia to India, and likely in-between, tent shows are not packing them in.

Courtesy of Aussie Barry Nixon, here’s a story in The Times of India ruing a "dying industry" throughout the country. “How can a circus be made meaningful when there are no more lions, tigers and panthers now,” questioned Vinod Kumar, who manages a major Indian circus. He blames most of the problem on “the indifferent attitude of government towards circus,” primarily for its having banned lions, tigers, bears and monkeys.

“Parents come to us and they inquire about these animals, as they look forward to show their young ones the tamed-wild animals.” That is exactly what I have heard from a number of circus owners and staff, and born out by actions taken on, among other shows, New Cole and Ringling-Barnum.

Kumar looks to the government as the only answer.

Down in Australia, tent shows are managing to attract startlingly tiny crowds. Although, per Nixon to Showbiz David, “There are more circuses now than at any time in history,” most of them are hurting for warm bodies in the seats.

An Aussie circus owner told Nixon that shows near Sydney are enjoying an uptake over the recent summer school holidays. Royale drew about 250 people per show, which gave it a 30% capacity. Lennon’s sold 150 people tickets each show, realizing 15% capacity, and Webbers, drawing one hundred souls a show, reached a whopping 10% of the seats.

Now, as for the animal issue, here's a little anecdote that only adds to my sense that a growing number of people are turning back in favor of circus animal acts. I fell into a most surprising conversation last year after a game board club meet, with a woman from Queens who described herself as an atheist. The subject of circus came up; she knew virtually nothing of my views or writing. Oh, no, I thought, here it comes --- another rant. Well, oh no, it didn’t come. This woman totally surprised me by defending circus animal acts, noting how they inspire and delight children.

Circus owners have displayed remarkable tact and understanding in the face of relentless harassment from the protesters. Perhaps in time, the public will reward them with due appreciation and revived patronage.

The Crowds That Don’t Come: Are the Attendance Figures Really This Bad?

Circus Season of 2008: Most Tent Shows Play to Paltry Turnouts; Big Apple Hits Record Year; Kelly Miller’s Big Biz Jump Still Short of the Mark

How many people saw your circus last week, last year? How are we really to know? We hear talk and rumors, some of which may be tainted by sour grapes or fan worship. We go and see for ourselves. And these days, to see is to feel a sadness that so few patrons are in the seats. Big Apple Circus is surely an exception -- they claim to have seated a record 575,000 people last year. Ditto, I assume, for UniverSoul. Ringling? Likely not. Of course these are impressions, which is all we have to go on. Unlike virtually all other forms of entertainment, from CD sales to movie tickets sold, under the big tops attendance figures remain a mystery.

The Billboard once did a fairly professional job in reporting on the size of the houses, as evidenced above. Eye ball accounts or show-generated claims produced rough estimations: Quarter house, near-full, half house, straw house. And back then, I recall usually seeing at least half of the seats occupied; I understood "half house" to be the average turnout needed in order to stay in the black.

Evidently, not so any longer. Some circuses today appear to be possibly surviving on as few as 25% of the seats filled on average. Of course, such a viable new paradigm was made infinitely possible back in the 70s when boiler room operations pitched thousands of tickets to merchants under the guise of "charity" that mostly ended up in waste baskets. When I’ve seen Chimera, Vargas, Carson and Barnes, Cole in recent years -- even Ringling in Oakland -- I would probably have erred on the side of kindness by claiming I saw a solid one-third house.

Following the demise of the Billboard's circus coverage, no other publication took up the cause of reporting on business trends. Circus Report was the most likely candidate, but its founder Don Marcks did not take up the mantle. Don called me often and we spent hours on the phone before and during the first years of its publication discussing so many things, I wish I had pushed the idea of his seeking out attendance reports from the numerous fans around the country who sent him reviews (virtually all rosy) and news bits. I'm not sure that we ever discussed this subject. It would have made Circus Report much more vital. But Don was easily rattled by circus owners calling up to complain about perceived slights, and so he edited like a good circus fan.

Although I could be wrong, I don't believe the current Circus Report editors attempt to divulge actual attendance figures, either. Too unpleasant, I assume. This only serves to insulate the profession from its own failures. In the act of fatuous cheer leading, nobody is served.

Enter the tell-all bloggers: Last season there was for a time one soul sending out audience head counts on one circus, and that soul was, ironically, working for the circus itself. Ben Trumble, who held the position (another odd irony) of "media relations" for Kelly-Miller during part of its tour, blogged about big crowds and no crowds on his A Mudshow Season blog. He even at times questioned management's booking strategies. He is no longer with the show as far as I know, and his blog has been dormant since September 11. Circuses may eventually, I imagine, mandate certain restraints on boggers who sign contracts to work for them.

So, what can be said of the season just past?

It was probably worse than the season before. In a refreshing display of candor, when Nancy Gaona answered my mid-season phone call to the Carson and Barnes office in Hugo, her spin-free answer to my question concerning ticket sales drove head-first right to the point: “Down every year. Down. Down. Down.”

Here are two shows about which I have a few specifics:

Circus Vargas. Surfing the net, I came across a contract they have signed with a Southern California venue, which included this: “expected attendance: 300-500 per performance.” Their tent seats 1,500.

Kelly Miller: Based on a statement that show manager Jim Royal made to The Oklahoman, the show pulled in “about a quarter of a million people" last year. My rough calculations came up with an average house of about 40%. I ran this by Royal and he confirmed my figures a “reasonable estimate.”

There is a promising streak of sunshine on the Kelly Miller lot -- a dramatic, 30% increase in business from the 2007 tour, up from 190,000. That’s a formidable jump, and it should embolden John Ringling North II as he heads into his third season as a circus owner and producer.

Overall, why such sluggish business? Are big tops doomed? I’ll address this soon in my Recipe for Revival.

Broadway in Free Fall: January Delivers 13 Shows to Oblivion

The slated closing of thirteen shows along the Great White Way in the month of January has even New York Times theatre critic Charles Isherwood breathlessly astonished -- "incredible." Reports he, erroring away in disaster story mode, the staggering number amounts to "almost half" of the current lineup. In fact, 13 is not a half of 42.

Still, it marks a dramatic drop. Fans without agendas will rue. The envious will cheer. Tough town. Tough stages to tackle.

This has not been a good season. Included among the departing are a pair of longer-term survivals, Hairspray and Spamalot. The others are: All My Sons, Boeing-Boeing, Dividing the Estate, Grease, Gypsy, Irving Berlin's White Christmas, Liza's at the Palace, The Mel Brooks Musical Young Frankenstein, Slava's Snowshow, Spring Awakening, and 13.

This surprised even me, for I did not see quite such wide-spread failure among the active productions on the boards.

I note with vicarious pride and pleasure that South Pacific, in revival, continues to thrive among the top three shows in ticket sales.

Not the Same Parade Without Stephanie ... No Wonder She's Back on KTLA

Gorgeous weather for the annual Rose Parade. How I wish I were there. Many inspiring floats, as usual.

I looked for the KTLA-TV broadcast, but it's no longer aired in the Bay Area. How I have missed wonderful Stephanie Edwards, who co-hosted with Bob Eubanks for many years. She has been missing in action for two parades, the victim of a callous, stupidly calculated termination to replace her with a younger woman that outraged, as it should, thousands of Southern Californians.

To me, effervescent Stephanie epitomized the best of the sunny SoCal spirit.

Then I did some research and discovered to my joy that KTLA has returned Stephanie to her rightful place in the broadcast booth! So, dreams still can come true in dreamland. Go, L.A.!

Maybe now that she's back, KTLA coverage will soon return to the Bay Area.

Happy New Year, Stephanie, and many more parades!