Living On a Diet of Steel

Out of all the sideshow acts, I consider sword swallowing to be one of of the deadliest, as there is certainly a great risk taken every time that steel blade enters the body. The practice dates back thousands of years to origins in India, where Fakirs and Shaman priests used it as a demonstration of their power to be invulnerable, and a connection to their gods. There is a great hall of fame list that has more details of this ancient art, which I am sure some might find to be quite surprising. People constantly ask me exactly what inspired me to want to learn how to do this, so I thought that I would take the opportunity to finally divulge that information.

The first time I ever saw someone down a sword was at Coney Island, and of course I was instantly intrigued. While I could wrap my head around most of the other acts, there was something undeniably sensual about sword swallowing. Understanding that there was no trick to the feat, my curiosity of how one was able to accomplish it grew each time I returned to Sideshows By the Seashore and watched Tyler Fyre stick that blade into his throat. In 2002, I had the opportunity to attend the Coney Island Sideshow School and finally learn the secret behind sword swallowing, which I am not going to share. What I will say, however, is that practicing with a wire coat hanger was one of the most unpleasant things I have experienced, but I was certainly determined to emulate the act that had caught my attention.

There are a few gag reflexes one must over come in order to safely pass an object into the throat, down the esophagus, where it will rest some where in the depths of the stomach. Doing this right results in an overwhelming amount of applause from an audience. Doing this wrong can [and has] lead to serious injury, or even death. This is due to the fact that the object is passing several vital organs, including the heart and lungs. Suffice to say that ones life is literally on the line each time the act is performed. It took about a month of practice with the wire coat hanger to get it all the way into my stomach, and I must say that it was certainly a proud moment.

However, I could not legitimately call myself a sword swallower and present the act with this crude implement. So it was that I abandoned the practice, though I did purchase a sword in 2005 at an indoor flea market in New Jersey. A fellow performer suggested that I make some changes to it in order for it to be presentable on stage. For whatever reason, I was slightly nervous about actually making an attempt to swallow the sword, and so it sat in storage for a couple more years. The motivation to return to practice came from continuing to watch others flawlessly perform the act, because I knew I had the ability to do the same if I tried hard enough.

Swallowing 18 1/2 inches of solid steel in the wasteland of West Philly.

In 2006, while living in West Philadelphia, I was struck with the inspiration to attempt swallowing the sword. At that time I was friends with Barry Silver [notable master magician and fellow sideshow performer] who had learned several skills from the legendary Red Stuart. It was with their assistance that I worked up the courage to finally stick that sword in my throat. After about half an hour of practice, for the first time ever, I felt the steel blade slip down into my stomach. That swell of pride returned, only this time, I had truly become a sword swallower. Barry was the first person I called to share the good news, and I wound up replicating the feat for him and a few other friends.

Four years later, and I am still happily performing the act for a wide variety of audiences. Much inspiration has been drawn from Red Stuart, who is the world's oldest living sword swallower, and also holds several Guinness Book World Records. It is said that he has swallowed over 50 sword simultaneously, and I have personally seen him down broad swords and even a Ford model A car axle at the Palace of Wonders. Truly he deserves much recognition, and I can only hope to achieve even a fraction of his greatness.

Photo courtesy of www.swordswallow.com

While researching sword swallowing history, I cam across this most amazing woman, Edith Clifford. She began performing the act at the tender age of thirteen, and became famous for swallowing razor blades, scissors, saw blades and bayonets. Personally, I would also like to note that she has held the record for most swords swallowed by female for over one hundred years. That number is 24, and as far as I know, the current record is only half that amount. While this is certainly impressive in its own right, there is a great urge I have to not only duplicate her effort, but hopefully even surpass it. Presently, I have succeeded in swallowing three swords at once, which was first accomplished on stage at the Troccadero Theater in Philadelphia. Interestingly enough, I was a bit nervous about doing this for the first time, so Red Stuart easily swallowed the stack to give me motivation.

The very dangerous triple blade sandwich. Slipper Room, NYC [2007]
Photo: Stacie Joy

That was also the same evening I shared the stage with Red Stuart and a few other sword swallowers to participate in a group swallow. In other words, we all stood in a line and swallowed our swords in simultaneous fashion. While I have only been a part of two group swallows, I must say that it was quite an honor to be on stage with performers I had the utmost respect for as we all slid solid steel into our stomachs.

Group swallow at Palace of Wonders, Washington D.C. [2007]
Photo: David Schmidt

Over the past four years, I have added a few other objects to the routine. Currently, I swallow a stainless steel wire coat hanger, 15 inch cane sword, 18 inch 8-sided sai and the 18 1/2 sword, though it is without a proper handle. It actually fell off during a performance, at which point I picked it up, explained to the audience that they could not think the blade retracted into the handle, then continued with the act. There are certainly plans to find even more objects that I can swallow, though I am keeping such thoughts to myself.

In recognition of my accomplishment as sword swallower, I decided to get a tattoo that would very obviously state my profession. This was something that did not take much thought, as I had wanted to celebrate my 26th birthday with a new piece of ink anyway. The design was partially inspired by one of my own swords, and I took a long train ride up to New Jersey just to obtain the piece. While I was definitely slightly nervous, most of that feeling subsided the moment that stencil was placed on my neck. About an hour or so later, I looked at the permanent artwork and smiled. Two days later, I performed at a New Year's Eve event at a warehouse in Brooklyn, even though my neck was slightly stiff.

The very appropriate tattoo to honor my profession.
Artist: Kevin Craig

The highlight of my somewhat short career as a sword swallower came in January of 2009, when I met Thomas Blackthorne. He is most well known for swallowing a jackhammer, and also holds several Guinness Book titles. It just so happened that he was passing through town with a sword that he had made, in an attempt to get as many people as possible to swallow it. Barry Silver and myself accompanied him to the steps of the Art Museum, where we were photographed and videotaped downing that very cold steel blade. The best comparison I can give, is if one were to accidentally swallow a whole ice pop. However, I must say that it was the finest sword I have ever had the pleasure of sliding into my stomach. A few months ago, I learned that the record was officially recognized, with my name being recorded in the book for posterity, and literally is engraved into that steel sword.

There are approximately 100 people world wide who can swallow a sword, and only a handful of those are women. While I am not the youngest, tallest or even can swallow the most, I am still very proud of my unusual ability. It is definitely my favorite act to perform, and never ceases to get a reaction from the audience. My main goal is to continue sharing it with as many people as possible, teaching a bit of history along the way, and some day setting a new record. As it has been said many times in this business, certainly this is a hard way to make an easy living, but I would not trade the experience for anything in the world.

For more information about sword swallowing, please visit the following sites:

Sword Swallowing To The Hilt

Sword Swallowers Association International

Tripping on Coney Island

[Originally written 9.22.02]

Went to Coney Island last nite, and I didn't want to leave. Oh how glorious it was! Got to chill with Jon, whom I haven't seen in quite a while. He’s such a sweetheart to have accompanied me for the adventure. There was a full moon, and it was so beautiful.

It's strange, because when I was flipping thru the channels yesterday, I came across The Warriors. Coincidence? [For those that don't know, the Warriors wind up in Coney Island].

So I just had to go. Made myself ugly, and we met up at a rest stop in the Turnpike where I left my vehicle, and we rode towards Brooklyn together in his Chevy. As luck would have it, we were able to hop right onto the Goethels. Looking to my left, there was the moon...fat, round and orange, due to the numerous amount of noxious fumes being released - I could actually smell them.

Cruised over the bridge with Luna as our guide, and the closer we got, the higher in the sky she rose, becoming brighter and brighter. Ran into some traffic on the Verizzano, but that didn't bother me, as I could peek over the side to see my neon-lit Mecca.

Finally we arrived, and there weren't a whole lot of people, but just being at Coney Island for the first time in a long while, I smiled.

We smoked a blunt in the Chevy while listening to some surf tunes.

Went down to the sea and did what needed to be done. I washed myself clean in the dark water and vowed that one day I would return. Then we ate mushrooms.

Rode the Cyclone six times in a row, which put much needed joy in my veins. The first time around we were by ourselves, and I think I really needed that. She was quick as hell and fucking great as always. Feeling the wind in my hair again made me very happy. Second time around there were a few more people, and each subsequent round was almost a full train. Every circuit was breathtaking with the full moon shining over the water. Fantastic moments of weightlessness and just the exhilaration of forgetting about all the shit that I've been carrying left me feeling wonderful.

Then we dropped some acid as we made our way towards the Wonder Wheel. By the time we were rotating into the evening, all the lights on the buzzing rides were slowly swirling together. What an amazing view…wait, is he holding my hand?

Strolling along the boardwalk, I was in my own little world with my hand clutched tightly by my best friend. We laughed over some Nathan's famous hot dogs and then found a dark spot under the boards to finish off the rest of that blunt. The vast stretch of dark water in front of us seemed to swirl into the sky. While the noise from the people and rides collided above, we were just enjoying random conversation and the relaxation of sitting in the cool sand. Hours passed without us even noticing, his arms wrapped around me and my head leaning against his chest.

Eventually the people were departing, so we pried ourselves from the sand, and then we climbed into his Chevy once again. The drive back to where my car had been parked was strangely quiet. Said our good-byes, tho it was pretty hard, and I will have to try my best to make another journey out that way before the end of the season.

Sincerely wished that I didn't have to drive back to my apartment alone.

Truth be told, I feel much different today. While I'm not sure exactly why, I feel as tho I have shed a great burden. For once in a long time, I am definitely very happy. It's all thanks to visiting a great amusement park and few rides on the mighty Cyclone. Of course having my best friend by my side always puts a smile on my face as well.

Coney Island is a magical place after all.

Prose Inspired by Coney Island

Going through the journal I have kept for about a decade now, I really miss having the opportunity to drive out to Coney Island any time I wanted to. There are a lot of thoughts I have about my adventures, which I certainly plan on documenting in this space, much like the recent post I made. Reading about how much this place meant really brings back those happy memories. It has been three years since I last set foot on the Island, when I had the chance to perform at the Rockabilly Festival and took the stage at Cha Cha's. For me, it was a moment to bring a long-standing fantasy to life. Knowing that the amusement area will never be the same [not that it ever was after the Golden Age] brings me much pain. However, I will always cherish the memories I have, and hope that others are encouraged to do the same.

Drowning in the black water below
Turning in the surging tide
Rotting beyond the sandy shore
Torn from the polluted womb
Of the neon-lit Mecca
Transformed by age and land-lusty politicians
Life thrown away in the gutter
Disgarded among the ramparts
The last remains of a glorious empire
Now reduced to faded memories
History buried 'neath the sand
Strewn amongst the rubble and glitter
A kingdom of fire that doesn't burn as bright
Haunted by the ghosts of days passed
A victim of greed and control
Stood as a silent witness to the demise
Uttered a final cry as it too was murdered
A secret taken to that amusement park in the sky
Lost amongst the chilidsh shouts of joy
And time continues to go forward
Without so much as shedding a tear
Such is the fate of Sodom by the Sea



Coney Island Suicide

The lights have all gone out
The laughter has been silenced
The Wonder Wheel turns no more
The Cyclone has been put to bed
In the shadow of the tower
I stand in contemplation
Cigarette in one hand
Loaded gun in the other
While the moon is full and bright
By the midnite hour
I stand in hesitation
The only thing to keep me warm
Would be a bullet thru my head
Boards creak beneath my feet
A drunken man passes me by
Paranoia starts to set in
A cacophony of voices floating in my head
In the shadow of the tower
I stand in contemplation
Kissing the barrel of a gun
Waiting for the right moment
The final stage of my life
By the midnite hour
I stand in hesitation
One pull of the trigger
And I'd choke on hot lead
The lights are flashing red and blue
The sirens scream late at nite
The corener takes photographs
Of the bullet thru my head
In the shadow of the tower
They gater in confusion
Asking questions of 'why'
But getting no answers
Body lays bleeding on the boars
There is no illusion
Death claimed His victory over me
One sweet kiss struck me dead

Carny Philosophy - Man Eating Chicken

[Originally written 1.22.2004]

Was watching A&E for no particular reason, and my attention was gained by the mention of Lobster Boy. It was an entire hour on the death of Grady Stiles, and I found myself glued to screen as footage of Gibtown, Florida was shown.

One of these days I shall have to take a visit to that place. There are rides and games and animals and other cool carnival things right out in the open, all year long. The people that live there who aren't carny folk enjoy it as well. They see the freaks as friends and neighbors who just happen to have made a living from the sideshow.

That's the kind of place I wanna live in; a never ending carnival.

To this day, I still remember the episode of Jerry Springer where hole Stiles family made an appearance. Apparently, Jerry was trying to get them to make peace.

On Sunday, I happen to catch a program on the History Channel that focused entirely on circus freaks and sideshows. It was basically a visual time-line of how they came to be. It started with P.T. Barnum's dime museum that bloomed into a traveling show, and eventually sideshows became a common sight in Coney Island and other places.

Despite the fact that some people may think the freaks were exploited and treated poorly, they made a damn good living. Tom Thumb [the world's smallest man at one point] died a millionaire. Ain't that some shit?

The sideshow gave those with physical deformities a home and an income, while the rest of society would rather shut them away in the dark. When the activists came out of the woodwork to complain, it was the freaks who spoke out against them and told them to fuck off. They enjoyed what they did, and who else would hire someone with three legs or a parasitic twin?

Now for the point of the entry. Referring to the program about Lobster Boy, a gentleman that was interviewed in Gibtown said something which I have now adopted as one of my many mantras. Carnies always keep an optimistic attitude. They may have a terrible week where they earn little or nothing, but they don't let it get them down. Instead, they believe that they will do better next week, because you never know what can happen, and you have to keep a positive outlook.

A new phrase popped into my head while watching this terrible fascinating program. During the trial, a tape was submitted to prove that he was abusive to his family. There was no sound, so the tape showed what looked like a rather aggressive wrestling match between Grady and his son. The jury fully sympathized, until a second tape was submitted, with sound this time. Since the voices were now fully audible, what seemed like abuse turned out to just be playful wrestling, with Grady's wife giving pointers to her son.

This is a clear case of Man Eating Chicken. If you have seen the HBO series Carnivale, then you know what I'm talking about. For those who have not, it's quite simple.

In one episode of Carnivale [and in real life sideshows], there was a banner that simple said Man Eating Chicken with a picture of a giant chicken. Now, taken the wrong way, one would assume they were going to see a chicken eating a man, when in fact they saw exactly what the banner said they would. Of course this angered all the people who paid to be fooled. "Tell your friends," you say, "so they have to pay as well, and the joke will be on them."

That is the basis of Man Eating Chicken.

Thus concludes today's lesson.

Coney Island - the Addiction

There are many well written books on the subject of Coney Island, numerous films that depict beautiful images of what once was, and millions of people who have walked across its sandy beaches. It draws you into the history and allows appreciation of the fact that it even existed in the first place. Truly it was a wonder of its time, long before there were theme parks and advances in technology to allow for competition of bigger, taller, faster and the most extreme.

At one point in my life, I was constantly making the 18 mile journey from where I lived in Elizabeth, New Jersey to a place where all your dreams could come true. No matter if the amusement area was open for business or not, there was something that constantly drew me to the Island. On a few very special occasions, I had an unforgettable adventure, and I certainly enjoyed photographing various objects as much as possible.

Figured that I might as well share all the thoughts and feelings I have documented over the years. Perhaps a part of me still wants people to know just how serious the dedication to my lifestyle is. While other treat it like the latest fashion trend, and constantly make a profit while proclaiming 'love of the art', obviously my position has not changed over the years, and most likely it never will.

[Originally written on 10.17.2003]

I see photos of a place that I dream about and long to be there. Every time I go, I never want to leave. Of course I'm talking about Coney Island.

I fell in love with the place the first time I went [three years ago], and ever since, I can't seem to keep myself away. I am addicted; drawn in by the being that is. I could read about the history of Coney Island for days on end and never grow bored. There's just so much about it that I find terribly fascinating. It has taken over me. It is inside of me...and it refuses to get out.

It took me awhile to figure out what I want to do with my life. The first time I saw the sideshow...well...my mind was made up. I live for it now. I was born with sawdust in my veins, and I was meant to do this. Right now, I am doing as much as I possibly can to be successful at it.

To be honest, I don't think anyone understands how I feel, unless they love the Island just as much as I do. It is not something that you can just put down in words, though many have tried with brilliant works. There's just something about the Island that reaches out and grabs you. Once you are hooked, it's like you can't live without being there. It is the end of America where millions upon millions of people have passed before. It is something man could not handle. It is truly unique, and there will never be anything like it again.

There's a certain feeling that washes over you when you're there. The sea is what calls out to me. The Island has had a rocky history since it was spawned, and yet it still exists, while other things are long gone. There is history all around you there, and you are a part of it. I have been there at almost every time of day. From early afternoon to the evening to sunset to sunrise. Beautiful blue skies uninterrupted by any clouds, and I have even seen the beach blanketed by snow.

One of my fondest memories has to be watching the sun rise. Of all the times I paid a visit to the Island, I had never stayed to see this. When I did, something happened to me. Maybe I was just in awe of what I was witnessing, or perhaps overjoyed I could share the experience with someone who means the world to me.

The moment was as perfect as it could get. A sort of bliss settled over me. There were no worries, bills to pay or traffic to be annoyed by. No television or radio. No distractions at all. No ignorant people. No drama. No bullshit. Just the sea. I could sit on that beach and listen to the sea for hours. The thought has entered my mind on a number of occasions to just say 'fuck it' and live by the sea.

By the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea...

Introduction

Welcome to the other side of the canvas wall, where few have been fortunate enough to gain access to. This is one woman's perspective of the American Circus culture, which has been a part of my life since I was a child. There were a lot of things that interested me about the carnival that magically appeared every May outside the windows of my Catholic grade school. It was amazing to me that people lived in these mobile trailers, which allowed them to go any place they wanted to, bringing along this unique form of entertainment.

While early exposure to live circus performance is hard to remember, I do know that I was not very fond of the clowns, mostly due to the fact they made some loud noises which were not friendly to sensitive ears. However, there was always a fascination that filled me when I watched people do amazing things. It is difficult to pinpoint the exact moment I wanted to be one of these people, but there was definitely a yearning to know what it was like. Not so much because I felt the need to be the center of attention, but more so due to the fact that what they did seemed magical, and the audience loved them for it.

Things certainly became even more interesting when I discovered strange things on the midway of a carnival my parents brought me to. At the time, I had no idea what sideshow was, or that there was such a thing as a gaffe. The vivid illustrations certainly caught one's attention and got the imagination stirring. Natural curiosity wanted to know exactly what was on the inside of these strange metal trailers. Some of them were more rewarding than others, but in the end, satisfaction was found.

The years passed and eventually I found my way to Coney Island, where I saw my first real sideshow, and marked the beginning of a new obsession. There was a constant craving for knowledge of history and any information I could find about this magical place. Part of me could take that step back in time, and know what it was like to see thousands of incandescent bulbs burning through the darkness. An electric Eden that many saw instead of the welcoming torch held high by the Statue of Liberty. Imagination was easily sparked, and truly I felt a connection to the Island.

All of this has helped shape me into the person I am today, along with countless adventures and experiences that some people only dream about. There were moments when I wondered how I had become so fortunate as to walk in the footsteps of those I once admired. In many ways, I feel as though I have carried on the traditions of Amercian Circus, which I feel is important to preserve as much as possible, particularly now that we have become a digital-obsessed society. Everything needs to be instant gratification, and then quickly move on to the next thrill, as though there is an addiction.

The contents of this blog are purely meant to document the events that have occured over the course of my life to serve as education for anyone interested enough to read this. From my time spent traveling with an authtentic 10-in-1 sideshow and late night exploits on the Island to living in city that gave birth to American Circus and joining the ranks of sword swallowers world wide. Some opinions may not be suitable for all audiences, but I have always stayed true to myself and believe in the ability of free speech.

With that said, please enjoy this assorted collection and appreciate the rare opportunity presented here.