The Flying Hartzells- Jackie Heitler, Helene and Johnny Hartzell 1944

Scan000010008, originally uploaded by bucklesw1. Hi there Buckles. Ross Hartzell here. I came across something interesting the other day. After my father passed away in the 1970's, my mother after a fashion started to write. She worked on it for a number of years, and every time I asked her if I could read it, she said not now. As the years would go by, I would sometimes bring it up. But she always refused to show it to me. She would say "I don't want anyone to see it till after I'm gone". One time when I really pressed her to have a look, she said it had been lost or accidentally thrown out. Well it turned up recently. It's a very candid account of life in the business from her viewpoint. The simple honesty of it all, and the unglorified reality of the way that it was is very profound. Much of it has to do with her young life on her fathers shows. Anyway, Here is a very short excerpt mentioning Donnie McIntosh, you and your family. I thought you might enjoy it. Note: These are her exact words. On my fathers circus there were accidents. It seems like you were never free of some, such as working men sleeping under the trucks, because it would be cooler. Someone would get in to move the truck and never knew there would be anyone under it. It's sad, but that was a common occurrence which you had no control over. Every circus had that problem in those times. I will never forget the things little Donnie McIntosh did when he was two years old on my fathers circus. He was our mechanics son. Deacon and Flo were his mother and dad. That little fart, when he would crap in his pants he would run and hide under a truck and fall asleep thinking his mom couldn't find him. But we always knew where to find him. That was too much for Flo. So she put a quick stop to that by tying Donnie with a rope by the trailer. He sure didn't like that. And it didn't break him from going in his pants either. When we were in winter quarters he always managed to lock himself in the bathroom and go to sleep, which was a little harder. You had to take the door off to get him out. His little ass would sure get wailed, and often enough that he broke from that habit. He sure grew up to be a fine person and was in the navy a number of years, married, and in the concession business. He lives near his mother in Hugo, Oklahoma. It's a small town where quite a few circus people live. You have to look fast, or you will miss it as you go through. While I'm going over my past on my fathers circus when the Lone Ranger lee Powell who was married to my sister Norma, and little Buckles Woodcock whose father was the elephant trainer at that time, little Buckles thought he would have his own little show, as he watched the Lone Ranger go into the doniker, and as a few kids were hanging around, he told the kids to give him a penny and they could see the Lone Ranger take a crap from one of the little holes in the tent. Oh, that was funny! I doubt if Buckles would remember it, but I did. That really was a classic. His mother Babe was a great horse woman, and she also worked elephants. Buckles always called his parents by their first names Bill and Babe. We had many good times together. I must say he is a fine person and followed in his fathers footsteps, and has broke many an elephant and is one of the best there is. He is married now for many years to Barbara who everyone knows in show business. They along with their son do a great act with Anna Mae their elephant who does everything but talk. That's how well she is trained. And when you are loved like Anna Mae is, she knows what side her bread is buttered on. Lovely people they are those woodcocks. I loved the elephants almost as much as my Flying Trapeze, the Flying Hartzells. I never had a hand in breaking them, but sure worked a lot of them and had much respect for them. There were times when I did not care to get near them after a rainy few days, and they would waller in the mud which they loved to do, and when it went on for a few days, it was hell trying to get the mud off yourself in a bucket of cold water. Those were the times I did not care for. But that was part of show business whether I liked it or not, and especially in the spring of the year. There is lots and lots more. Much of it is not in chronological order, but I hope to rearrange some of it so that it makes more sense. The bald faced reality of circus life in those days, in my opinion has never been written down like this before. I feel privileged to be able to read it. I'll have to send you another great story of Bert Pettus in the cook house one day, when I have more time. Bye for now. Ross Hartzell