CLOWN ROUTINES I HAVE KNOWN or: A Hot Act is a Tough One to Follow

All of us, at one time or another, may consider adding an element of danger to our acts, and we jugglers generally turn to the element of fire. Torch juggling is flashy, exciting, and dangerous if one doesn't know what one is do­ing. I would like to relate to you a funny story about fire jug­gling that reads like the plot of a laurel and Hardy routine. It is a true story. The names have been changed to preserve the personal dignity of the persons involved, and also to keep the lawyers off my back.

Once upon a time, three happy jugglers - I'll call them Moe, Larry, and Curly - put together a thirty minute routine that covered juggling every conceivable object in every conceivable combination in numbers, formations, pairs, and solo. The routine, best dubbed ANYTHING GOES, was very energetic and also very entertaining, and one of the later climaxes involved Curly taking one club away from Moe and tossing in a torch. Their procedures for lighting off the torch had Curly dip the torch head into a Tang jar partially filled with Coleman fuel, then a flick of a Bic burst the

torch into a beautiful inferno. Well, after much practice on a large stage, Moe, Larry, and Curly decided that they were ready to be discovered, and booked themselves into the Hackensack Nursing Home for the world premier of the ANYTHING GOES REVUE. I was invited along as MC and critic for their performance. We found the Hackensack Regency Nursing Home by the directions Moe had gotten over Alexander Graham Bell's wonderful invention mere hours before, and were informed by an authority we found in the parking lot that it was really the Hackensack Nursing home ­ no one ever used Regency except the street signs. Moe convinced the receptionist, a lovely young woman Larry, Curly, and I gazed peacefully at for whole seconds, that the jugglers were expected.

"All right," she said, "but there isn't anyone from Recreation here today." Not surprising, really - it was a Sunday, and who would recreate on a day of rest? "You can use the Green Room, I guess."

The Green Room was a lovely shade of yellow, and Moe, Larry, and Curly soon had their stereo tape deck, chairs,

and assorted props set exactly as their routine required. The audience, nearly forty or so senior citizens and family/friends visiting them wheeled, walked, or hobbled in, and I stepped before them to do my MC thing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, and other assorted mixed company here present," I said. "It gives me great pleasure to present for your cultural edification and general amusement the antics of three very good friends of mine - Moe, Larry, and Curly, the starring clown [yes, they performed in August clown makeup with tramp clothes] of the Circus Farce-us in their incomparable ANYTHING GOES REVUE!" Polite applause accompanied me as I sat down to enjoy the show.

Everything went exactly as rehearsed - even better, at times - until the torch was pulled from its appointed box.  Looking back, there probably should have been a drum roll or something like that: Curly dipped the head and flicked the Bic with no hassles, but the Green Room was smaller than their familiar stage so everything was closer to center than before - including the uncovered Tang jar of Coleman fuel (note the foreshadowing here). The music cue arrived, and Curly clawed out the club effortlessly and threw the torch into Moe's cascade, underspinning and tossing high.

The torch arched neatly up and bounced off Moe's surprised face. Fortunately, his makeup was not flammable

and the torch fell over his shoulder - which would have been the end of the story except for the fact that the torch flames fell perfectly across the top of the Tang jar and ignited the fumes. Curly thought fact - 'Well, we blow the torch out after we're done with it, so I'll just blow this little fire out' - and blew the flames down into the jar. The fuel therein caught fire with a puff of flames that blew back up into Curly's face, surprising Curly to such an extent that he moved quickly backward and kicked the jar over onto the terrazo floor, breaking the jar and spilling the combustibles. Meanwhile, the audience watched with heightened interest: they had never seen such an exciting clown act in their lives. I fidgeted expectantly, because I had faith in my friends, and the band played on. Moe decided to stamp out the raging inferno (it was still only fuel burning; I shudder to think what might have happened if the playing area had been carpeted) and leaped into it wholeheartedly. All he managed to do was excite the fuel some more. As he came out of the campfire, one could not help noticing that something was a little different about him.

"Moe!" shouted Curly. "Your shoes are on fire!"

I knew something was different. Larry continued to run in his little circle as he had since the jar fell over, shouting, "Get a fire extinguisher!" As Moe stamped his foot-fire out, I decided the time for assistance had arrived. I

figured we out to cover the damned fire with a blanket, or a coat, or ... a coat! Of course! I began to take my own coat off as I approached the continuing scene of clown versus fire, but I was rather fond of my coat and spied Moe's coat on a nearby chair. I threw it over the patch of burning fuel just as Larry dashed across the Green Room to a fire extinguisher, charged back with acrobatic dexterity, (he nearly cleared a potted plant with one of his leaps) and soaked the coat with water. The audience applauded politely, and I said, "The act is getting hot now." They loved it. I resumed my seat, and the act continued, though the finale of three-man feed, lines and triangles had a few more drops than rehearsal and previous practice shows had had. I guess the guys were a little flustered for one reason or another.

After many explanations, apologies, and funny (forced, of course) little jokes, it was discovered that we were at the wrong nursing home. Our heroes exit to a setting sun, a little wiser, and a little singed, and very lucky.

The end of the story could have been tragic, had not good fortune been on the side of these jugglers. They couldn't have done anything else wrong with the torch - except maybe used high octane gas for fuel. (I personally use fire outside only in large clear spaces.) A metal can should have been used to dip the torch heads in the fuel! and it should be covered before lighting the torches up. As an added precaution, the fuel should be far removed from the juggling area. Better safe than sorry, right?

Fires involving flammable liquids should not be fought with water - C02 or dry chemical extinguishers, or foam, are highly recommended. If nothing else is available, smother the fire with a coat or blanket. And DON'T juggle fire in a nursing home (most states have special ordinances prohibiting open flames other than cigarettes in nursing homes and hospitals). I hope the escapades of the CIRCUS FARCE-US serves as a lesson for any of us who crave the adventure of fire juggling - THINK BEFORE ACTING.  

SQUE

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