In
the October, 1944, "Juggler's Bulletin," he is
mentioned in the same breath with Bobby Jule, Bobby May, Fred
Allen, and W.C. Fields. He had an enormous home in
Pittsburgh
that became the center of attraction for traveling performers.
(He met one fellow on the road who let him in on the tip that
"there is a fellow in Pittsburgh
named Art Jennings who will slip you fifty for your equity dues
and won't bother asking for it back.") He once received a
letter addressed simply to "The Bum Juggler,
Pittsburgh." Art was easier to find than Pittsburgh,
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When
he tried to slow his schedule to 13 weeks on and 13 off, his
agents still booked him for 39 week runs, so he quit. He grew a
beard and retired to a
Pennsylvania
farm to raise deer, as he had done at Storybook
Forest, live by bartering his silver work, content to be a
hermit in the woods. He spent increasing months in Texas
and the Southwest, pursuing his study of silver work under
Native American craftsmen. Then he and his bride of 25 years,
Carol, moved to San Antonio.
"This
old man has been living in heaven for the last 10 years or more.
Heaven couldn't be any better!"
And
there is still juggling. He meets most Wednesdays with young
jugglers who come by the house, still showing a few tricks to
shoot at.
Despite
near-crippling arthritis on bad mornings, this man gets around,
abounds. He still has the fingers of a magician, the arms of a
juggler, the legs of a rola-bola rider, and the appallingly
displaced and bunioned right toe of a slack wire artist. "I
consider juggling on the slackwire to be my peak achievement
from a skill standpoint. But I regret never being able to do a
handstand on the wire. I was never any good at handstands in the
first place."
After
spearheading the founding of the IJA and serving as its first
president , Art remained active for several years until he
felt that what he had set out to do had been done and was being
carried on by able members. He returned again as president in
1955 at the urging of some early members who wanted to calm some
of the conflicts within the adolescent organization and restore
its simple goals. Ruth, his first wife, took on the task of
pounding out the "Newsletter" on the kitchen table
while he toured.
He
remained active in the IJA until 1959 hen
he began his 17 year tour with Happy Dayze (see accompanying
story). As his juggling son and several thousand IJA members can
agree, he's been a good father. "I have been a very
fortunate man but few accomplishments ever come close to the
great feeling of joy when my dream of a juggler's organization
became a reality. I'm quite sure that there are those who did
and perhaps still do feel that I was a bit stubborn in trying to
get things my way. However, while I may have done
some 'arm-twisting', all decisions were made by majority
agreement. I think we all knew that it wouldn't work any other
way."
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It
becomes apparent, upon meeting this most exuberant of men, that although
juggling was only one of a multitude of pursuits, it shared an equal 100
percent of his attention with the others that made up the 1000 percent
life of Art Jennings, a man who juggles life itself.
Art
Jennings as "Happy Dayze"
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At
anyone time, Art Jennings had several full acts available for
booking. His magic acts included "Hocus Pocus" and
"Dr. J.," a mind-reading act in which his sharp, dark
stare provided a formidable ingredient. "Loose Nut on
Wheels" was a short unicycle act designed for a second show
when clubs required it. "The Mirth Quake" was a trio
of himself, Joe Fleckenstein and Buddy O'Neil.
But
Jennings' forte was clown comedy, and his most memorable persona
was Happy Dayze the clown, maintained from 1940 to 1959 through
10,000 performances and derived from his earlier Tramp Juggler
and Bum Juggler characters.
In
the kind of billing performers love to read and hate to live up
to, his agents called him "The American Popov" and
"America's Most Versatile Clown."
He
analyzed his own act until he had over 450 magic and juggling
tricks crossindexed in a card catalog, each listing the time
involved and the props needed. He kept accurate records of what
he did and where, and maintained set mix-and-match formulas for
openings, middles, and closings to suit each audience.
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He
had over four hours of material to fit the 45-60 minute program.
Following the warm up was a serious segment. He
would, for instance, get the children and adults howling at his
clown tears, only to finally answer their begging questions by
saying he was crying for all the boys and girls who had been
killed in bicycle accidents. After delivering the message, he'd
jerk them back from reality into tears of laughter.
He
then did chapeaugraphy (the folding of a single piece of felt
into a multitude of different hats), along with historical
comments on that kind of entertainment, leading into "Troublewit"
paper folding. Depending on the audience, he would insert some
"chalk talk" or "math wizardry," leading
into magic: a balloon bit, "Glasses on the Book," a
variation of "Hippity Hop Rabbit" (a mechanical
illusion using clown figures), rope tricks such as cut and
restore, "Professor's
Dilemma," and some rope spinning, then
the "Phantom Tube" and a dove pan from which he
produced 5 balls for his juggling segment.
He
did 3 balls with erratic, clowning moves, parasol and ball,
parasol and hoop. He used specially constructed plates that
sounded like delicate chinaware. He did four and five balls and
clubs, then rode a mini bicycle and unicycle with erratic moves
ending with tricks involving the "pusher," a unicycle
with handlebars, and finally he juggled on the unicycle.
"The
clown was an outgrowth of my desire to learn everything there
was in a circus," he said. "The only thing I haven't
tried with the circus is working with the big cats. I've worked
with the elephants, I've worked with the horses, tight wire,
slack wire and flying trapeze. I've done a little bit on the
trampoline, a little trick riding and shooting. I wanted to
know, I wanted to try these things. You master one and the
others fall into line."
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