Four years later in Phillips, Wisc., Loon was again denying reality, this time that of gravity. No, not like the rest of us, by juggling, but by being the only person able to perch on an almost vertical slope as he helped his friend Danny Lord put on a roof. Perhaps due to his light weight, perhaps due to his shoes, perhaps due to more mysterious causes, Michele Lord spoke the truth when she looked up and exclaimed "That's truly remarkable, Loon." And so it began...

 

It's almost like an old joke. What's purple, wears a funny hat and throws dangerous objects for fun? Not the teenage mutant ninja grapes, but Truly Remarkable Loon, the juggler from Madison. Even if you should happen to spot a green pin or a yellow diabolo in his purple golf cart, he's quick to explain that it's really Irish purple or lemon purple. Why? "I was inspired by my time in Hawaii, where I met a whole lot of followers of Bagwhan Rashneesh. One of the things that he required of his followers was that they wear all red, pink, or orange. I went to the laundromat with one of these guys and he had this entire clothes line of all red, orange, and pink clothes. I thought 'Yeah, that's really cool!' I wanted to use black, but Johnny Cash beat me to it."

 

Visual impact is the best way to describe the quality of Loon's show, not only with purple but with the moves and props he's acquired over the years. The audience asks for something dangerous, like a chainsaw - and Loon pulls out a hacksaw with a chain stretched across the blade. Or he'll advertise to come and see the dancing shark - a two-foot-Iong rubber toy attached to a dog leash that seems to swim six inches off the floor. "It's really quite terrifying to little kids and old ladies," he said.

 

Not all his props are as gentle, though. "I have what I call my Brazilian Broad-Bladed Brush Knife, which is a machete I picked up in Hawaii a while ago. It's got a really wide blade and is really sharp. It's a good one, because people often suggest that my implements are fake... 'You want me to chop something with it? Well, bring something up here!'

 

SLASH!! They cower back to the safety of the audience."

 

Aside from the standard torches, machetes, battle axes, and mongooses (mongeese?) you see in Loon's hands, you see some more esoteric manipulations. You may see up to 13 plates spinning to the accompaniment of classical music or even flaming Barneys... Well, Loon is quick to point out to the children that he wouldn't do that, but adds pensively "I know a lot of parents would pay good money to see it !"

 

Loon's act nowadays is aimed mostly at the family audiences he finds at fairs and festivals. His movements, facial expressions and sound effects are reminiscent of, (forgive me!) Loony Tunes on a Saturday morning. His patter and visual puns exist for more than just the kids, though. "When I'm performing there's a lot more going on than just the juggling. I'm dealing with the audience on different levels - kids, parents, and whoever's paying for me. There may be time constraints you have to think about, or the following act to consider. The juggling I do in the show is stuff I can do really well. It doesn't require a whole lot of my mental attention. I have plenty left to do great body stuff, use good facial expressions, get my lines right, and concentrate on where I am in the music."

 

"I like the image of a buffoon in that I come out and call myself Truly Remarkable Loon, then I have a number of failures. People like to see smartalecks fail. But then usually by this point the audience likes me, they sympathize with me, and then when I succeed with whatever it is I'm attempting to do, they like to see that, too."

It was a warm and well-lit night...In the Bicentennial year celebration was on everyone's mind, and Madison, Wisc., was no exception. The man called Loon was making merry at his friend Martin Jellenc's house, with, among others, "your closest relative" Uncle Vinti. They had invited the Milwaukee-based performer after seeing his hilarious, off-the-wall musical comedy revue. Just when things started resembling a beer commercial ("It doesn't get any better than this") it did.

 

Lee Gradski, who would later toss a tennis racket in a Special K commercial, showed up with an odd shaped bundle strapped to his back. He had just flown in from Taos, N.M., and, boy, were his jokes tired! He greeted his old friends, Loon and Martin, and told everyone to come outside. On the front lawn, with a promethean flourish, he lit three torches and began to juggle. As he watched the flames dance through the night air, one thought dominated Loon's mind: "I have got to learn how to juggle."

 

He did. One year later, Loon and Martin were standing on the side of a road in rural Missouri, hitchhiking their way to the Rainbow Family Gathering. In the midst of this expressly American scene Loon pulled out his juggling gear, which never left home without him (think about it). Under the hot southern sun he taught Martin how to juggle. This fateful act was the genesis of the First Church of Fun Juggling Company Show, whose debut performance was at the Madison Equinox Festival in September of 1978.