by Susan Bryan

 

Fourteen years ago, John Cassidy dreamed up selling "how-to" books on juggling complete with bean bags attached. He thought he'd get rich quick. He didn't. But his book, Juggling For the Complete Klutz,  did establish a successful small press. These days, Cassidy's job as creative director of Klutz keeps him busy with four or five new projects a year. But he also manages to juggle parenting chores for sons Cody (7) and Scott (4) with his wife, musician Nancy Cassidy.

 

Juggler's World interviewed Cassidy in his cluttered office in a renovated warehouse in Palo Alto, Calif. The warehouse is a short walk from Stanford University, where Cassidy's fascination with juggling began.

 

JW; Why did you write Juggling For the Complete Klutz?

JC: Well, the juggling book was originally written as a class lesson, basically, in 1977 for a high school class in Mountain View, Calif., right near here. It was a mimeographed deal. And then it was expanded upon. The inspiration came from running rivers where I and some other friends would teach passengers how to juggle. And that was obviously a popular item. That winter, after that summer I was teaching the high school reading class, I just decided I would do a little thing on juggling, something for them to read. And they enjoyed that. And they enjoyed learning how to juggle, like most people. We used to do that on Fridays. Right about that time I also was sewing up bean bags and selling them along with lessons for free on White Plaza, Stanford's central plaza. "Bean bags, a thousand dollars, lessons for free!" It was the old blade and razor schtick.

 

Anyway, I did that. And then decided that the lesson plan had gone well enough and we'd sold 25 bean bags. So I decided it was time to try a book. There was a little bit of money raised, just a couple of thousand dollars, mostly raised by what? I think I painted a sign or something like that and I borrowed some money from a friend of a friend. It was all very peanuts kind of stuff.

 

And I ran off three thousand copies of the book and had some local ladies do the sewing. We'd pick up and drop off in their garages. Maybe the highlight of the whole marketing experience, which, incidentally, I'm no longer terribly involved with, was after the thing had come off the press and we had our bean bags together, a couple of boxes full anyway. I made up a few books with the bean bags on them and I took them down to the local variety shop and after a big long song and dance I got them to take six.

 

I came back the next day just to see my book on the shelves and I couldn't find them anywhere. The owner gestured me over and said, "I need some more. They all sold." At that point visions of capitalistic sugar plums went dancing through my head. That might have been the highlight of the whole thing. Sold over a million now. But those first six, they were the best! Sold 'em. Boom! That's how the juggling book started.