Kelly Miller Circus (From John Goodall)

Small-town circus a recurring high-wire logistical act By ROY APPLETON / The Dallas Morning News - March 23, 2007 rappleton@dallasnews.com FARMERSVILLE – The caravan hit town at first light, putting Chris Beckett to work with his night-glow flags. Also Online The Big Top goes up in Whitesboro "I lay everything out," he says, pacing briskly across the grassy lot, placing the markers, showing the semis where to park. His T-shirt says it: Logistics. "This is horses. That's elephants," he says as the rigs and RVs keep rolling in, finding their places, as another day unfolds for the Kelly Miller Circus. And here they are in Farmersville, a team of 70 or so people and 24 animals, come to work, entertain and move on. Here they are in a field beside Feagins grocery store, setting up for what will be two single-ring shows – delivered the purists' way, under a Big Top. "It's a well-oiled machine," says circus manager Jim Royal, watching a crew spread, position and begin the raising of 16,000 square feet of vinyl tent. "It moves fast. It's very efficient." For the next eight months, the Hugo, Okla.-based circus will move across 14 states in a 10,000-mile tour of mostly small-town America. The stop Tuesday in Farmersville was the season's fourth with shows today and Saturday in Frisco and next week in Southlake, Terrell and Royse City. Crowds will see acrobats, aerial acts, clowns, jugglers, ponies, dogs, elephants and more. They will hear velvet-throated ringmaster John Moss III welcome them with his hubba-hubba "Children of all ages ..." And bid them farewell: "Remember the circus never leaves town if you keep it in your heart." But they probably won't meet the performers, many of whom are family, born into the circus. Or the teacher, the music man and the cook. Or the mechanics, who keep the trucks on the road, or the electricians, who keep the lights on and the 150-kilowatt generator roaring. "We're our own little traveling city," says office manager Deedee Perez, along for her ninth season and recent bride of Hector Perez, the Big Top crew boss. This is the first circus for David Schwartz, who is teaching eight circus children. At 21, he hasn't run away from his family ("They think it's awesome") and friends ("They're shocked") in California, but is simply pursuing, he says, a longtime dream. "It's been nothing but a thrill," he says, flashing a toothy grin. "I'm still on that adventure rush." Michael Harber is a first-timer as well, here "for the music" – to play drums and deliver the shows' computer-driven songs and sound effects. "When you hear the boing-oing-oing, that's me," he laughs. A longtime professional musician from the Wichita, Kan., area, Mr. Harber says he hired on to change tempos at age 54. "It's a cheap way to travel and see America" and still entertain, he says. "I like to hit stuff and make people smile." Julio Rosales likes those smiles as well. Standing outside his RV, he talks about the Twisting Turning Terrifying Wheel of Destiny. "We are going to spin around in the cages, and then we'll go outside blindfolded and juggle and jump rope," he says, grinning and sharing secrets of the wheel: "You have to lose your fear." And you have to practice, he says, watching son Brett juggle four-five-six balls, hours before his two daily performances. While the teacher conducts his two-hour class and the music man unpacks gear, the showplace takes shape. Mothers, fathers and enthralled children watch as Frank Murray and his elephant Topsy help raise the red, blue and yellow Big Top. "Up. Up," Mr. Murray commands as the harnessed animal drags another metal pole into place. "Back up. Ready. Up. Up. Good girl." With the tent standing, a stiff wind whipping its four flags, workers move in the metal bleachers that can seat 1,500. They hang the trapeze, run aerial cables and electrical ground wires, and set up the ring that will frame the show. John Ringling North II walks about, watching the action. He bought the circus this year, 40 years after his father and uncle sold the famed circus that bears the family name. And he and wife Shirley have come from their ranch in Ireland to spend a week with their investment. "This is a circus," says Mr. North, not one of those "shows" in a building. "It's important for kids to see what this is like." In the kitchen trailer, cook Sara Aca and her husband, Benjamin Romero, are preparing a taco salad lunch. "I like this circus life," says Mr. Romero, who has been with Kelly Miller for seven years, his wife for three. "You get to travel around and see places." Outside the Big Top, Topsy is grazing again with Annette, another of the Murray family's performing elephants, and Rebel, their miniature pony. Nearby, Laura Herriott and Buddy Ragland tend to Ali the dromedary, Dolly the llama and the circus donkeys, horse and ponies. Ms. Herriott is a daughter of circus hall of famer John Herriott. With the inside setup complete, the pace slows. Members of the Rosales family come to the ring for their daily practice. Brett juggles balls and clubs; aunts Carmen and Deya work Hula-Hoops for a future act; nephew Gerard watches from a trapeze. Nap time is generally 1 to 3 p.m., but Brett, 16, and Gerard, 11, juggle on. Mr. Perez, the Big Top boss, walks around the ring, checking and straightening. The music man and ringmaster run through sound and lighting checks. Mr. Moss takes his ringmaster duties seriously. Drawn to circuses as a child in Knoxville, Tenn., he has worked under the Big Top 18 of his 40 years. A good show is cohesive and fast-paced, he says between checks. "We don't want the audience thinking. We want them feeling." Six-year-old Troupe Shelton is feeling the excitement as he grips his ticket to the 4:30 show. "Mom, look," he cries, "miniature ponies." "He's foaming at the mouth," says his mother, Lyle Shelton of Farmersville. "He's been drawing pictures of the circus." The pony ride draws children, as do rides atop the camel and elephant. As do the inflated souvenirs and the popcorn and cotton candy and cold drinks. Barely nine hours after the first trucks rolled in, the music man is picking up the pace with Broadway tunes, sounding the call to showtime. The ringmaster – sporting black knee boots, top hat and red swallow-tailed coat – waits, microphone at hand. Is Buddy Ragland excited? The animal keeper wags his hand so-so. He says he's seen plenty in 25 years with the circus. "I guess there's some excitement in everybody," he says, looking at the children he's just helped off a camel ride. "That's what makes it right there. Them kids."