Today's post is a very special one courtesy of my friend and fellow clown Rik Gern. A few weeks ago we spoke to each other over the phone about a lot of different things as we usually do. At a certain point in the conversation Rik started relating to me the story of a very interesting fellow named Ralph Gifford (pictured above) who worked as a bill poster for many circuses including Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus.
It was such a great story about someone who was just as important a part of circus lore and history as anyone else associated with that wonderful world that I thought it a shame more people weren't familiar with his name, his life and the work to which he was so dedicated.
Rik was good enough to put it all down on paper in order to post it here. Thank you Rik for sharing such a wonderful tale of a person who's place in circus history deserves to be remembered. Well, without further ado, here is Mr. Gern spinning the yarn as only he can. Enjoy.
"I
met Ralph Gifford in 2005, when I was working as the Advance Clown for
the Gold Unit of The Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus. Ralph
was a bill poster; the guy in charge of making sure any town the circus
was going to appear in was inundated with posters, and that as many
shops as possible had their checkout counters equipped with cardboard
display cases full of discount coupons for the big show.
My first impression of Ralph was that of a crusty old road-dog
who’s speech was a cross between a growl and a mumble, and who didn’t
have much to say to anybody. Within minutes he confirmed the first part
of my impression, and
blew the second half out of the water. Ralph was quite the raconteur;
he loved his job, he loved the circus and all its attendant lore, and he
loved talking about it!
I didn’t know how old he was, but “older than dirt” didn’t seem
too far off. It turns out he’d been a bill poster for practically every
small circus in America, and could have been living in retirement had he
chosen to, but he wanted to end his career by getting the final feather
in his cap and working for the Big One, “The Greatest Show On Earth”.
Even though his job entailed spending most of the year living in hotels,
driving from town to town, and managing an ever changing crew of people
who ranged from eccentric and highly intelligent to eccentric and “out
there”, he gave the impression of loving every minute of it, and
treating every town as a new
adventure. Even when he’d grouse about a person or territory, he’d do
it with a gleam in his eye that let you know he enjoyed his work so much
that he even liked being pissed off about it!
I left the road in 2006, but continued to see Ralph every time he
came thru town. He’d tell stories of his mud show days, and catch me up
on the latest Ringling gossip (his version of it, anyway!), and by the
time he’d moved on to the next town I’d feel like I’d been steeped in
Americana and had been breathing the sawdust-scented air of generations
past.
The last time I saw Ralph he did something that exemplified his
irascible aged/youthful spirit, and that I’ll never forget. After
dinner, we headed to a local WalMart so that he could get some
supplies. It was the end of a long day, and he was weary, so he took
advantage of one of the motorized scooter carts that the store provides
for handicapped customers. As we made our way around the store we
noticed—you couldn’t NOT notice—a pack of aggressive teenagers who were
roaming thru the isles and intimidating the docile shoppers. After
witnessing their belligerence towards an older woman, Ralph started
scowling and muttering obscenities before turning to me with a twinkle
in his eye and saying, “Watch this”. Slowly and subtly, he started
slouching in the scooter and twisting his body until it looked like he
was doing an impression of the crippled physicist Steven Hawking. Once
his metamorphosis was complete, he started zig-zagging his cart towards
the young punks in a herky-jerky fashion guaranteed to elicit nothing
but pity from anyone who hadn’t seen him just a minute before he’d
transformed his appearance. He then proceeded to
“accidentally” bump and crash his cart into each of the offending
youths and effectively chase them down the isle until one of them
crashed into a stacked display of paper towels. The store’s security
personnel arrived on the scene just as the kids were beginning to figure
out Ralph’s game and starting to speak aggressively and threateningly
towards him, so they were promptly hustled out of the store as Ralph
received expressions of sympathy from onlookers who’s attention he’d
grabbed. He kept up the “poor old man” act while we checked out and all
the way to my car. Once we got in the car he looked at me, burst into a
big sly grin, and started cackling and laughing like a naughty
teenager. The senior delinquent had outfoxed the juvenile delinquents!
“Ralph”, I told him, “you make me want to grow old!”
Seeing Ralph had
become a highlight of my circus season, and as usual, I sent him an
email a few weeks before the show was due to arrive this Summer. My
email was returned as undeliverable, so I tried calling him, but all the
numbers I had were disconnected. That’s when I did some Google
searching and learned that he passed away earlier this year. I’m glad to
know that Ralph lived a long life and did what he loved until the end.
It was an honor to have known him, and the circus just won’t seem the
same without him! Thanks for the memories, Ralph!"
