The Circus is in Town!

Or, more accurately, Amelia is in circus town. Today was my first day in Peru, Indiana, a town which served as the winter quarters for many circuses over the years, including the Hagenbeck-Wallace circus, the American Circus Corporation, and even Ringing Brothers Circus. Besides being the birthplace and family home of Cole Porter, Peru's greatest claim to fame is its circus legacy, which is highlighted every July in a big circus festival. Sadly, due to the constraints of my trip, I will not be here for that festival (it happens about a week after I leave the Midwest). However, there is still enough in this fair town to satiate my hunger for everything under the Big Top.


Today, I woke up bright and not so early (this three hour time difference thing is killing me)and set off on my merry way to find morning (ahem, nearly afternoon) sustenance and to make my way to the Circus Hall of Fame, which resides on the former site of the circus winter quarters in Peru. I learned a few important lessons about Peru today, and the first came early on: Peru, Indiana has NO satellite reception, which means it makes smart phones really dumb. The whole damn town must be covered in tin foil or something. Which means, it's a perfect spot for conspiracy freaks and UFO nut jobs, but not so great for directionally-challenged out-of-towners such as myself. I actually had to resort to the quaint and old fashioned tactic of pulling over to a gas station and asking for directions. This made me realize that it has been a very long time since I have had to do such a thing. Also, that I might be part of the last generation that can remember a time when this was the ONLY way of getting directions. Which made me feel a little old. Stay strong, Peru! It may be a pain in the ass, but it's a nice nod to the past.


Anyway, this failure of technology led me to my second realization/life lesson about Peru, Indiana: everything is closed on Sunday (more on this later). Before leaving the Cole Porter Inn, I had googled breakfast and lunch joints in Peru and had settled on a yummy sounding spot, aptly named the Cafe du Cirque. Of course, when I finally found my way there, they were closed. As was everything else, except the fast food joints. Starving by this time, I succumbed to my second moment of fast food desperation on this trip. From what I'm seeing so far of Midwestern cuisine, this will probably not be the last.


Armed with a mediocre and strangely sweet Wendy's salad and my gas station-acquired directions (thanks Gallahan's Irish Mart!), I made my way along the wooded banks of the Wabash River, past (you guessed it) endless fields of corn and picturesque red farmhouses to the Circus Hall of Fame. The Circus Hall of Fame is not the most aptly named establishment. Rather than being a building filled with plaques and pictures and various memorabilia from the circus's past, it actually is more of a stewardship group that maintains the grounds and circus wagons from the old winter quarters in Peru. The place seemed pretty deserted when I arrived, but I soon found a friendly volunteer named Dennis,a retired school teacher, who eagerly showed me around the old barns and Big Top.

This massive tent top managed to withstand a tornado earlier in the week (a tornado that took out several old growth trees and the new Dairy Queen in town). A small crew of tent bosses and local convicts on work duty erected it for the annual circus festival occurring in two weeks.

The barns, which once sheltered the circus animals, now house the Circus Hall of Fame's large collection of originally restored and replicated circus wagons, and the collection of their small museum.

These beautiful wagons are still fully functional, and are used in everything from the annual Peru circus parade to feature films like Tim Burton's "Big Fish." While most of them are replicas, a few are fully restored originals, including an original Hagenbeck-Wallace cat cage from the 1800s.

You can even see the scratches in the wood from the cats. I'm not sure if the scratches are historical artifacts or were freshly made during the annual parades (I like to think it's the former). Either way, they're a potent reminder of the glimmer of danger that undercuts all the glamour and spectacle of the circus.

Danger is right!

Along the way, Dennis and I managed to catch up with an official tour given by Circus Hall of Fame President Jack Rhinaman (I know...suspiciously and too perfectly close to "Rhino Man"). Dennis left me in Jack's capable hands, and, with him as my guide, I managed to have all of my questions answered about circus life and life at the Peru, Indiana winter quarters. Questions like, where would the workers and performers sleep (answer: either in houses in town or off the property, in rented rooms, or in the loft space above the wagon barns),

See the windows up near the ceiling? That's where some of the workers would sleep. I really wanted to go up there, but Jack wouldn't let me :(

and where did they practice new acts (answer: in specially constructed buildings, which have since disappeared, in tents, or in practice rings and cages).

Cat training cage

Equestrian ring

While he deftly maneuvered my barrage of questions, the sky turned ominous. The wind kicked up with a sudden fury and the air grew thick with precipitation. Jack hurriedly excused himself to take down a tent before the weather turned, and I wandered around and investigated the grounds myself with the added thrill of my first Midwestern storm in the air around me.

     


After visiting the wagon graveyard, where rusted, broken down circus wagons await their chance to be restored, I started to feel the first raindrops and figured that was my signal to leave.

The Graveyard: where dead wagons await rebirth

But not quite. On my way to my car I ran into John Fugate, vice president of special events, ringmaster, and incorrigible flirt, who welcomed me back into the Circus Hall of Fame office with the greeting "You must be the writer." Apparently word travels just as fast around the grounds of the Circus Hall of Fame as it is rumored to travel around an actual circus. For the rest of the day, John regaled me with tales of his 30 years in the circus and filled in many of the blanks about what it is to live and work on the Show. He also introduced me to Tino Wallenda, member of the illustrious Great Wallendas aerialist troupe, who had stopped in to pick up his contract for the show. I was honestly too star struck to ask Tino many questions (or any really), having read about his famous family and their long circus pedigree in my research. I learned from John, that Tino is also a deeply religious man, who has conducted sermons while perched atop a chair balancing on a high wire 40 feet above the ground. Seeing such a sight might even make this die hard atheist feel a little glimmer of spirituality.


Luckily the threatening storm split in two and bypassed the circus grounds, enabling all the workers to breathe a sigh of relief (there was much buzz and worry made about the stability of the big top). To celebrate, John took me on a driving tour of the area, showing me Cole Porter's family home and farm and a beautiful park overlooking Lake Mississinewa, and ending in a butter pecan ice cream treat at a local ice cream parlor. All the while, he entertained me with stories of his past lives and past loves. After the ice cream, we parted ways, both rather tuckered out from the day's events, with promises of meeting up again tomorrow. There's a good chance he'll be able to introduce me to a lion tamer. Fingers crossed!


After I left the Circus Hall of Fame and my new beau behind me, I went to Krogers to pick up some provisions for dinner. This is where I learned my third important lesson of the day: you can't buy alcohol on Sundays in Peru, Indiana. When the grocery checker saw my bottle of wine he looked at me and said, "it's Sunday," to which I replied, "uh huh," thinking he was making small talk, to which he responded nervously, "you can't buy liquor on Sundays." So, let that be a lesson to you, booze hounds: if you're going to a small, Midwestern town for the weekend, plan ahead. 


With those words of wisdom, I will sign off for the night. I have a busy day tomorrow and already it is way later than I expected it to be. 


Til tomorrow, my sweet, little humanimals.