Sideshow Musings

[Originally written 10.28.02]

We should have been doing the horror show this afternoon, but a whole lot of rain came by to cancel those plans. Jon has been passed the fuck out on some drug since I arrived, and I am kind of afraid to disturb him. Instead, I just helped myself to a bit of weed and have a little too much time to think.

All I can do is mull over the things that I want to do.

Trying to generate interest for the remainder of our shows via the Internet hasn’t led to much response. Is the population of this state. Or perhaps it's just that no one cares?

The more I try, the more I am disappointed. Then that thought occurs to me: Have I been cast out?

You know what? I fucking hope so.

This is the reason I want to do sideshow more than anything. Freaks. Oddities. Mistakes. Nature's cruel jokes. They had many names and many faces. They had physical abnormalities that made people stare in horror, wonder and curiosity. They were given jobs in the sideshow, people paid to see them.

While I can't say for sure that I know every sideshow treated their freaks well, I do believe it.

In a society where people would rather shun them, lock them up in a mental hospital away from the ignorant stares of others, these 'freaks' were taken in and given a home. The sideshow has virtually died out, but people are at least trying to keep this tradition alive. There are new acts, more bizarre than ever before. In an age where one can do whatever one wants with their body, there are new idols to look up to. People who chose to make themselves out of the ordinary.

The desire to join those ranks just grows and grows. To perform for the masses. To entertain. To bring shock and wonder to all who see me. With great pleasure, I will modify my body all I want, and you will all turn your little heads to stare. While you are ordinary and blend in with the rest of the useless flesh, I will stand out, because I can.

This is something that is in my blood, because I was born with sawdust in my veins. There is confidence in the fact that I can succeed, because I know all the ins and outs of show business. What to do and what not to do on stage, as presence is very important. It's all about being seen and heard to draw a crowd. If you entertain just one person, you have accomplished something.

Doing these horror shows here in South Jersey have only fueled my desire. So what if it’s just the two of us? To be quite honest, I would rather work with someone I can trust…even if he is passed out right now.

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

Anti-Scene

[Originally written some time in 2002]

As far as I know, there is not much of a real scene here in New Jersey. Granted, I have come across many people that used their entire allowance at Hot Topic, just for the simple fact of being able to say: "I shop at Hot Topic, I'm cool" or what have you. Oh yes, I am ever so impressed because you gave in and decided to support a corporation, while in the meantime, mommy is sewing your brand new patch onto your black backpack so you can show it off on Monday in school.

So yeah, aside from those that blatantly scream "I spend my allowance at Hot Topic to make mommy and daddy pissed", there are the ever present metal heads, hip hop dudes and a random spattering of punks—tho most of them are all about the fashion and will make faces at you if you don’t fit the stereotype. Then there’s the preppy douchebags and their fake ‘n’ bake girlfriends rolling around in plastic cars that they can't handle at high speeds—tho they do put so much effort into showing how fast they can go. Just can't wait to die, I suppose.

From what I have experienced, there is no united scene around here. Maybe I can't really speak for the rest of the state, because I haven't been everywhere in Jersey. Here in E-town, there's nothing. Oh, and that so-called 'club' one city over...it doesn't even deserve recognition. The only 'dress code' enforced there is green. Enough said.

Being inspired by certain things isn't bad, but blindly falling into a genre or trend is pure stupidity. It happens all the time, tho people are never aware that they do it, and they certainly make for good amusement.

Anyway, getting to the point. Yes, I have indeed reaped a benefit from the fact that 'unusual' clothing is more readily available. However, it also means that anyone who just thinks it's 'cool' or "my friends will freak when they see me in this" will grow bored and move on. There are countless times where I hear the story of "oh, I used to dress like that". The reason you don't now, is because you only liked the novelty of the clothing/accessories/music. Do you seriously think you're going to convince me to change just because you grew out of your phase?

That's always been good for a laugh. If I was going thru a 'phase', I'm quite sure I would have grown out of it by now. Let's see, I'll be 21 in December, which means I've been in my 'phase' for about six years now. That's sort of beating a dead horse, eh?

However, it is important to stop caring and not let the exploding 'trends' bother me, as I know that one day it will get boring, and the next 'new thing' will be sought after. While all the lemmings gather, I'll just continue to be myself. Of course I know that there are plenty of people who say: "This is just me". Sure, I'll believe that, considering the fact that the majority of the people who do say that [once again] are corporate Hot Topic products. Manufactured DIY is such an oxymoron. If it has pre-made, you are only impressing the other idiots who do not comprehend the purpose of DIY.

In any event I am straying from my point.

There are many different labels that people attempt to place on me, from 'goth' to 'punk', and other not so nice names], but I have never really considered myself to be any of these.

In my heart, I have a fondness for the circus and sideshow, which has been with me for numerous years. My best friend said that he considers me to be a true Carny, and since that is not an honor one can easily gain, I might as well start wearing it with pride. There is joy in modifying my body, to please only my own aesthetic. Clothes, hair, make-up and accessories follow the same vein. The music I listen to and movies I watch are because I want to, not so I can throw around my knowledge of them adnausem. These are just things that make up me, not because they are a part of some stereotypical genre or scene. You cannot lump me into your general categories, and it's simply because I don't belong in any of them.

Even while wearing clothes I don't consider being 'dressed up' in, some random woman passed me on the sidewalk and said "Cool outfit". My appearance can make a good conversation starter, but I have noticed after a few minutes, people are looking past my skin, and are talking to me. Perhaps this is due to the fact that I carry myself with confidence, and I do not allow trends to dictate what I should or should not wear.

In the end, I will always feel like the eternal misfit, because I know that there is no one else like me. However, I choose to embrace this, knowing that I am true to myself and don't need to play some character in order for people to like me, as I have no interest in fake friends. Take your scene and shove it; I'm proud to be a Carny, and no can ever take that away from me.

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.

Tales From the Road

A continuation of the feature introduced last month, in which I opened up the proverbial journal vault of things I wrote while traveling with an authentic 10-in-1 sideshow on the carnival circuit. To briefly recap, I found the opportunity via Sideshow World, packed my bags and drove out to Bedford, PA. There I met a couple who owned a menagerie, i.e. farm animals, and had spent fifteen years exhibiting them all across the country. Some names have been changed out of respect for privacy.

July 22, 2005 - Hard working Carnies

It was massively humid late in the morning. So hot that everyone was sweating just doing light chores. The only mild inconvenience experienced thus far is having to walk down to the bathroom, but a little exercise is never bad. Took claim on the sleeping quarters—which is essentially a box of sorts built over the cab of an International tractor [used for hauling the bunkhouse around]—and proceeded to move in the luggage. Items that would be needed or used on a daily basis unpacked, and the rest staying put. A trip was made into town for food and few other things such as water, ice and a cooler, as well as a folding chair scored from the dollar store.

The crew right now consists of myself, the Manager [who is an old school Carny that used to travel back in the day], this guy who will be doing magic and mentalist tricks, and this guy that has worked for the Boss for a year. [Noted here that my ex at the time was also present, omitted from the text for personal reasons.]

We were put to work, bringing the components for the stage into the tent—which we would be sharing with the menagerie—and setting it up. Having animals to play with is a good way to eat up time. The goats are great, even if their eyes are a bit creepy, and the horses are pretty sweet—one of them is quite affectionate.

It has not all been fun and games though, but I knew there would be plenty of work. After all, you do not perform without spilling some sweat. Assembled the aforementioned stage, working in the late afternoon so as not the expend energy under the hot sun. Next we were taught how to put up the banner line. Driving those stakes into the ground does not happen by magic, just in case people are unaware of the fact it takes man power. Believe me, watching the men swing that sledge with grimaces on their faces tells you how hard that is. Would have taken my turn, but the general feeling said it was something to be done by the men. How useless did I feel? No matter, the job was done and then the painted signs had to be hung, so I made up for my lack of participation on the stake-driving by carrying as many signs as possible.

Since there was not much else for me to do, I was told that I could take a shower—the first since arriving. Once all squeaky clean, headed into town for dinner, relieved to be done for the day. The remainder of the evening was spent cutting up jackpots, learning the lingo and what it really means to travel with a carnival. Eventually, around two in the a.m., climbed into bed—which was slightly more comfortable than the first—and promptly passed out.

July 23, 2005 - Receiving the proverbial torch

The morning I woke up to was a beautiful one, as the humidity that had us panting yesterday has been replaced by a very pleasant breeze, which made spending time outside much better.

Now seems like a good time to introduce the crew a bit more. Brock hails from Chicago and does a mentalist act, bending forks out of shape with the power of his mind. He can also forecast one’s past, present or future with Tarot cards and does blindfold work. Our Manager and Boss are very friendly and keep us laughing while making sure all work gets done. Reg is the resident handyman and scapegoat, often on the receiving end of many jokes. In fact, we all bust each others balls, but it is all in good fun. This guy came along while we were setting up the banner line and was welcomed into the crew as an all-purpose worker. The Boss calls him Elvis due to the black hair and heavy Southern accent. It’s one strange Family alright.

Hit town for lunch then sat and played cards since there was not much else to do. Our banners had not arrived yet, and everything else has already been taken care of. Talk of a BBQ had us eager for some good food, and I decided to make an alcohol run. The local liquor store had the green label Jack Daniels, which is not seen in Jersey, and so insisted upon purchasing it. Now the same size bottle retails for about $24 in the Dirty, but I paid $18—damn good if you ask me. A bottle of Smirnoff vodka was only ten bucks. In any event, pleased with the acquisition, a stop was made for the appropriate mixer and a bag of ice.

It was getting late by the time I returned to the spot, and despite the fun we had exchanging stories and jokes, the crew was desiring BBQ. Had to play chauffeur to Boss Jr.’s girlfriend Garnet in order for the food to appear, but I did not mind. Needless to say, the hungry Carnies were happy for our return, and the meat started cooking. Everything was set up in the tent buffet style, with everyone grabbing a paper plate and plastic utensils to help themselves. For a variety of reasons, the Bosses and their ladies do not eat pork or beef, so the sausage and burgers were turkey. The sausage was great, but I did not care much for the burger. Thankfully Jack and Coke along with a screwdriver aided in washing that down, as did the watermelon and cantaloupe.

With stomach full and definitely slightly buzzed, it was time to get in bed. However, had a surprise visit from Reg, smoking a bowl and chatting about the crew. [Must say here that I am relieved someone smokes pot around here.] It is difficult to have a detailed opinion of people that you just met, though certain personality traits often surface quickly, particularly when one speaks highly of themselves. If I am going to trust anyone, it most certainly would be the Carnies who have been doing this long enough to make those snap judgments. Such as the Deadheads that seem like trouble.

The couple had come up to say hello, and the girl wound up being invited on as the Bally Bitch. Her duty will entail standing on the bally stage [in a skimpy costume] and wave the tip in. The boyfriend works down at the bingo tent, and they have a darling mixed breed puppy that always accompanies them. Did not get a good feeling from them initially, and it has stuck with me the more they open their mouths, fixated on scoring weed and talking about it way too much. It seems they are more in need of a ride than anything, and hey, if they can make some money, might as well. The guy had commented he wanted to bring his younger brother along, but did not say a word about that to Mab [the Boss’s wife]. Well, Carnies certainly are not stupid, and I am sure they are keeping an eye on everyone. However, something is to be said by Reg and sharing a bowl. It was also good to know that my assumptions of certain individuals have been picked up by someone else who just happens to have that ability to read people.

Aside from all that, Reg explained that it was important for us to learn all we can about what it takes to put on a show. Not only so that we have a greater appreciation for this, but also that we understand the business should there be a desire to frame our own show. Just as there are those who are ensuring the sideshow acts are kept alive by teaching a new generation, so too are these people ensuring that the classic 10-in-1 sideshow will have a future. It is a great honor, and I certainly have learned that a lot of hard work goes into this, but worth some sweat and sore muscles for the reward that is yielded.

Reg bid good night, and with stomach full, buzzed and high, sleep was welcomed.

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...

Tales From the Road

Introducing a monthly feature that explores life on the road traveling with the carnival. For some, it is the thrill of the open road, the opportunity to see the sights and meet interesting people along the way that makes the journey worth it. By no means is it any sort of dream world filled with glitz and glamor; you are tired and dirty and hard worked pretty much every day. While I can only speak for myself, what makes doing this worth the effort, is having the ability to interact with the public. There is no better job in the world than being yourself and making money from it.

Starting things off with my own experience, and encourage others to submit their own stories: lenorelovelace@gmail.com

AMERICAN CIRCUS SIDESHOW TOUR

In 2005, I had the opportunity to travel with one of the last remaining 10-in-1 sideshows in America. The owners had toured carnival circuits for about 15 years with a menagerie that carried a full banner line and canvas tent. Eventually they expanded into sideshow, though at times had considered sticking with the menagerie [for various reasons]. The story that follows was written during those five months, slightly edited for content and grammar, as well as changing names to keep the people slightly anonymous.

July 21, 2005 - Heading West

Packing is a strange thing. You have to find room for everything you want to take while making sure you will be able to remember where it is later on. Well, I managed to fit all of my clothes in two suitcases, utilizing the smallest one for my shoes. That’s right, just for shoes. Also had enough space for all of those small and yet very important items. No matter what, you are always thinking of something else you need, because the last thing you want is to be far from home and realize that you forgot something. You can buy stuff on the road, but it is better to have something so you do not have to spend money.

When organizing the luggage is all said and done, it is time to put it in the car. Packing a car is a fine art, tell you what. It is a long process, but when done right, it is a satisfying feeling.

Received well wishes before departing, which was touching.

Picked up a few provisions and gas, then was on the way from New Jersey into the depths of Pennsyltucky.

The drive was long and I knew this before I even started. There was not much scenery along the way, aside from farms and woods. Two stops were made to get out and stretch the legs, as well as to put some food in the stomach.

When I finally reached town, that was when things went wrong. Wound up driving around in circles for a few hours, attempting to find the fairground in Bedford, PA. Long story short, was glad to finally arrive, eager to meet everyone and get some sleep. Could tell that my boss, his wife, son and the son’s girlfriend were good people. We stood around to bullshit for a while, listening to some funny stories about being on the road. When someone is in this business for such a long time, there is an endless vault of information. By the way, these people are totally not the kind of Carnies one often hears about, so I am wondering where the bad reputation and negative stereotype comes from.

Certainly could have listen to them talk all night, however, the need for rest was too much. Spent the night sleeping on a mattress in the back of the spook house, as the other quarters had not been cleared out yet. It was not that bad, actually, just higher off the ground than what I am used to. Slept just fine, for the first time on a carnival lot.