Waiting for the Polk Street Muni bus one night, nature called. He left his gear leaning against the bus stop sign. The only thing left when he returned a few minutes later was one bag containing three bowling balls. "It was just too damn heavy to run with." With that limited material his act, of necessity, took a new direction. He would be a heavyweight juggler.

 

At the Sports Palace on 18th and Valencia, those with a dream train for the Olympic gold. Smith was following his own dream. Resting 225 pounds deliberately on his neck, he did ten sets of squats. Shoulder presses with 135 Ibs. followed. Bit by bit he built himself up to the point where he could catch a bowling ball on the back of his neck and flip it back into a juggle.

 

The crowds at the turnaround loved it. Tips soared. He added a foot catch with a bowling ball! The act now consisted of three torches while riding the unicycle and throwing them under his legs while rock­ing in place. Then a three bowling ball cascade on the uni. Next, jump off the uni, do a bowling ball shower. Add a pirouette and shot-put those balls straight up overhead, say about ten feet, oooofff! Bring them down nice and smoothly and after a couple of rounds pass one behind a shoulder. Catch another on the left foot, kick it back up. Add a fourth bowling ball, do columns, do alternates. Watch Ray blow the crowd away. Practice five in private for a few friends and prepare to pave the path to glory. Yeah!

 

1984. George Orwell fell a little flat, but the cable cars made a comeback. Bay and Taylor was undisputedly his. The streets were so good to him that year he got an apartment off Diamond Heights, bought himself a Ford van and set in a supply of costumes with enough sparkle to make him shine. The IJA Las Vegas convention was right around the corner and he wanted it bad. It would enhance his reputation and make that long climb to the top just a little easier. '

 

He bought a new tux, new clubs, new silver balls. He wanted to glow out there on that stage. This was going to be his ticket off the streets. The preliminary competition screening for judges only took ten minutes. He gave it his best shot. The judges decided he didn't make it into the finals. Ray gathered his things and left immediately for San Francisco to take time off, lick his wounds and think about the future.

 

"That competition was a tough experience," he said. "My first reaction was to be real pissed off. I thought maybe, just maybe, there's a color issue here. I mean, you don't walk around in this skin all your life without it occasionally crossing your mind. After all, there's at most, only a handful of black jugglers in this entire scene."

 

The streets have taught him survival and given him a large measure of self confidence and a way to test himself within the larger culture. But time is passing. He's ready for something better. He wants to make that name for himself.

 

The Oakland Coliseum held auditions for half-time entertainment for the Warriors games. He wowed them juggling four basketballs while riding his unicycle around the court and shooting trick shots. "Hey, I had no problem getting that job. People are used to seeing blacks with basketballs. They think we're all related to the Harlem Globetrotters!" They signed him up to do 12 games this season.

 

In January he scheduled a three-week gig at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas. And he has been working with a black acrobat friend named Zeetaw from Boulder, Co. They are polishing an act they hope to enter in the Circus World Championships at Monte Carlo next year. He still wants to be the Jackie Robinson or Bill Cosby of juggling, the first black man to win an IJA championship.

 

Perhaps then some big company would hire him for commercials. Ford or Toyota could film him pulling one of their trucks. Or how about a bowling ball shot from a cannon and landing on the back of his neck. Hear that, Brunswick!? He believes that a couple of good contracts like that would give him the exposure he needs to get his act to Las Vegas full-time.

 

He stops to work the crowd before they board the cable car for its run up the hill. "Hey Ray," one of the drivers yells out. "How's that new Mercedes of yours running?" He cracks up. The crowd laughs good naturedly. Lots of dollar bills flutter down into the hat this round. He's given them a great show and they know it.