Ladies and Gentlemen, May I Present...

My best friend from childhood, Jack, is a traveling performer with various circuses and reviews. He is a clown by profession, and the proud 3rd generation of his family to pursue the art. Like his Father and Grandfather before him, he employs an old beat-up Model T Ford Touring Car in his act. In order to get his cars into condition for the act, Jack does quite a bit of customization. He removes the running boards and replaces them with stretched inner tubes. He attaches a special spittoon to one of the front fenders. The spittoon belches fire and smoke back at him when he uses it. He covers the car from bumper to tailpipe with graffiti that salutes the original Mercury astronauts, give notice of private property and warns you to wipe your shoes before entering. A cast iron frying pan with a pair of over-easy fried eggs painted inside hangs from the door handle. And all of this of course against a backdrop of a car Jack has beaten and dented all over with a hammer to sufficiently “jalopy-ize” it for use under the Big Top.

While Jack’s work often includes long, grueling road trips with lots of one night stands hundreds of miles apart, it is also a life filled with colorful characters, his fellow travelers on the show.

Not so long ago, Jack’s work brought him within reasonable driving distance of our home in the Midwest. So, after a few phone calls back and forth to set up a meeting place and time, we drove on up to a nearby county fairgrounds where his show had its tents pitched. After wandering around for a few minutes inside the main tent redolent with the mixed odors of popcorn, sawdust and elephants, we found Jack over by the concessions talking with his wife, Patti. After exchanging greetings and catching up a bit, he said:
“after my act, you have to come meet Raoul, the Human Cannonball. He loves to fly fish!” I said sure, I’d like that.

So, we went and took our seats for the show. As always, Jack’s act was great. He has a wonderful gift for pantomime and is a true professional, a master of his craft. When he had finished and taken his bows, the laughter and appreciative applause from the crowd lingered for quite a while.

Next up were the elephants. I was watching them go round and round the ring and then stop on command to put their front legs up on the stands and their trunks in the air. I clapped and smiled. A tap on my shoulder broke my concentration on the ring. It was Jack. He had taken off the top layer of clown makeup and replaced the five-sizes-too-big clown shoes with a pair of sensible sneakers. He said, “let’s go see Raoul. He doesn’t go on for another half hour or so and I told him I’d bring you around.”

I followed Jack back out through the rear of the tent, past the Hungarian acrobats in their sequined tights and past the cages of tigers, ponies and yapping Pomeranians. And then out into the open, starlit night. Back here was the place where the performer parked their trucks and trailers, their home away from home.

We found Raoul The Human Cannonball sitting in a lawn chair out in front of his trailer, relaxing in the warm evening air and perhaps mentally preparing for his upcoming act. Jack made the introductions as Raoul, grabbing two canes to support himself, rose from the chair to shake hands. I wondered if this thing with the canes was one of the occupational givens of being a human cannonball. I mean, you can’t be shot out of a cannon night after night and expect to escape the physical toll…

We had a nice conversation, finding that we had fished a few of the same waters out west as well as in Wisconsin and a couple of other places. We compared notes on rods and talked about a few favorite flies. As always, for me at least, the common bond of the love of the sport and the joy of sharing experiences with another angler took me away from my immediate surroundings. Without moving from the spot, I was transported from the dark parking area behind the circus tent to the stream sparkling in the sun with the song of the water in my ears.

Time flew, as it always does when I’m talking fishing. Soon, Raoul excused himself to get ready for his act. We shook hands, promised to stay in touch through Jack, and I headed back to my seat inside. I sat and watched the Hungarian acrobats go through their paces and joined in the applause for them as they took their bows.

Then with a drum roll, the spotlight fell on the Ringmaster at the center of the main ring as he announced Raoul, The Human Cannonball. As he speaks, a huge net is hoisted at the far end of the tent. More spotlights now illuminated the long white barrel of the cannon at the other end of the enclosure as Raoul, waving to the crowd climbs in. Another drum roll and a few more words from the Ringmaster about how dangerous all this is and how it takes somebody of Raoul’s courage to do it night after night. Then a tremendous explosion and a cloud of white smoke from the cannon and here’s Raoul in helmet and white spandex, soaring over the crowd. At the apogee of his arc, near center tent, he looks down and waves. I’m sure he’s waving at me. A few seconds later, he’s in the net. He rolls around, reorients himself and then extends his fist to the sky in triumph. The crowd erupts into cheers and thunderous applause. I’m so proud. My new friend, the Fly Fishing Human Cannonball.