Class clowns

Lisa Ferguson

Thursday, June 25, 1998 | 9:42 a.m.

They are truly class clowns -- schooled in the arts of spitting water, squeezing into tiny cars and taking pies in the face.

Such was the curriculum at the renowned Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College, based in Sarasota, Fla. and founded in 1968 by Irvin Feld, late owner and producer of Ringling Bros. and Barnum and Bailey Circus. Its mission: to maintain a steady supply of young clowns.

The circus pulls into town today for performances this weekend at Thomas & Mack Center.

Over three decades, more than 1,500 aspiring clowns were taught the basics of the business, from creating gags and costumes to applying makeup and mastering pratfalls, during six- to 10-week-long sessions in which they lived and breathed clowning.

Of those, more than 500 graduates landed jobs traveling the globe with either of Ringling Bros. and Barnum and Bailey's "red" or "blue' touring units, while others went on to perform with circuses throughout the world and in a variety of entertainment fields.

Many of them ended up in Las Vegas, where jobs in the entertainment industry for workers with clown skills such as juggling and other unusual talents -- as well as red noses, fright wigs and big, floppy shoes -- have historically been plentiful.

But earlier this year, Clown College taught its last mirth-making lessons: The school was closed in a move that Feld Entertainment Inc., the company which owns Ringling Bros., called a "redirecting of its focus."

According to a press release, the company plans to start a "Clown College Graduate program consisting of a series of Masters of Comedy workshops," taught to clowns already touring with the circus by clown college alumni.

Company Chairman and CEO Kenneth Feld says the program will "address our current performing needs by creating specific comedy routines that seamlessly fit into our circus productions to ... develop the kind of clowning that is relevant to today's audience."

Dave Kiser, a member of Clown College's class of 1982, who today works as public relations coordinator for Ringling Bros., calls it "a continuing education program.

"They're involving the clowns who are on the road a lot more in new and upcoming material instead of relying on folks who are in Florida to come up with it, which, to me, is a good idea.

"In six weeks, what can you learn about something that is as old as man?" he says. "The truth is, when you're on the road, that's where the major learning comes in ... not just the book learning, not just going through the motions. That's where the actual performing ... knowing what works, that's where the actual education begins."

Financial issues also weighed in the decision, Kiser says. Though tuition to the college -- open to anyone age 17 or older who submitted a written application or auditioned for a spot -- was free, the number of faculty members was four times greater than that of students in recent years.

"You're talking about a large amount of money," he says, "and I think (company executives) weren't as happy with what they were getting. It wasn't producing material and people as much for the road," he says, as much as for other entertainment options with which the company is involved.

Clown College in recent years may also have veered from its original intent.

"Year after year, you see people come out (of the college) and think, 'There's room for improvement,' " Kiser says, admitting that he was "sad" after learning of the closure. "But the truth is that change is not a bad thing and it will be interesting to see where this goes."

Masters in merriment

Few people are more interested in charting the college's new path than its graduates.

Dave DeDera, class of '87, spent four years touring and seven years as a Clown College instructor. He is one of six graduates performing at Circus Circus.

After 30 years, DeDera surmises that Clown College "as an institution, it got a little burnt out on itself." But that doesn't change the experience for students. "Anybody that went through Clown College, their lives changed 180 degrees."

DeDera is a prime example: The same day that he was accepted onto the Chicago police force, he also received an admittance letter from Clown College.

The choice was easy: "I figured I could always join the police force," he says. Not that he would now. "You don't get shot at as much on stage."

Peggy King, another Circus Circus clown who graduated in '77, says: "The reason people become clowns is because it's something in their heart or their soul."

She says the clown community has "mixed feelings" about the college's demise. "For one thing, it makes you a more elite group because there's no longer an infinite supply (of clowns), but at the same time, it leaves me a little bit upset because one of the things that shaped your life is ... considered expendable."

Dick Monday, who formerly worked as half of a comedy team that performed in New York-New York's now defunct show "MADhatttan," graduated from Clown College in '74 and served as its director from 1995-97.

The writing was on the wall for the school, Monday says, when he took the position. "I knew from right away that (the company's feeling was), 'Let's give this one last chance.' "

Also, what was going on in corporate America -- widespread layoffs, budgets cuts -- was bound to affect the entertainment industry, he contends. "They're streamlining, downsizing, they're looking at more ways to become efficient ... that's the way business is.

"I think this is a case where they're trying to make the corporation, Feld Entertainment, fit into a very profitable and efficient machine and I think when you do that, you're bound to lose some things along the way. I think Clown College is one of those unfortunate losses."

Monday, who moved to New York after "MADhattan's" closing in May, has founded his own clown school, New York Goofs, and penned a play, ironically enough, about what would happen if circuses did away with clowns. It will be staged later this year in New York.

"The fact of the matter is clowns weren't born in the circus and they will survive somewhere else even if the circus didn't want them," he says. "The clowns will always find a place to do their work."

But, with the school's closing, will there be enough clowns to go around? Probably, say those in the business. But whether or not they will be quality clowns is another matter.

"I feel there's always been a good clown shortage," comedic juggler Michael Goudeau says. The class of '79 graduate stars in "Lance Burton, Master Magician" at the Monte Carlo, along with Tommy Laing, a member of the class of '84.

"There's plenty of clowns, but there's not a lot of good clowns," Goudeau says, admitting that he was "sort of surprised" by the college's closing.

"I think the turnover in clowns has sort of slowed down," he says. "When I went to clown college ... there were 60 people in the class, and when I went to teach at clown college (in the early '90s), there were like 30 people in the class."

Class dismissed?

Goudeau's classmate, Charlie Frye, stars with his wife, Sherry, in a clown act (sans makeup) in "Folies Bergere" at the Tropicana.

He agrees: "There's a lot of people who do (clowning)," Frye says, "but when it comes right down to it, when you think of the really good ones, there's not that many out there. It takes a certain kind of a person to make an ass out of themselves."

Frye, who spent three years touring with The Ringling Bros. red unit, says the circus has always taken advantage of clowns, and that the clown college "kind of perpetuated that in a way."

He says many "great clowns slipped through (the circus') fingers" because of low wages and cramped living quarters on the circus train. "You did it because you loved it and that was it; that was the only thing you had.

"I always felt a little taken advantage of ... and this is just another example of taking clowning for granted when they just drop the college altogether."

Kathryn O'Dell, executive director of The International Clown Hall of Fame in Milwaukee, estimates that "there's probably about 50,000 of the red-nosers running around today."

The biggest repercussion she foresees is a void for quality clowning education that the college provided.

"It's so important to be educated when you put on that clown mask because of the people you impact," O'Dell says, especially when it comes to interacting with children. "If they're not trained well on how to treat a child ... they might give clowning a bad name."

She says Clown College's programs were "second to none," and that the school lent credibility to the art form.

"I think when the average person looks at a clown ... they don't realize what's gone into the character, what this person has developed," O'Dell says. "It was probably one of the most wonderful institutions in the United States."

No need to tell Lara Heidtman that: She and two of her brothers are Clown College graduates. All three have toured with Ringling Bros.

"I can honestly say that the day I left the road, I loved it more than the day I joined (the circus)," Heidtman, who spent five years with Ringling Bros., says. She is now the resident clown at Ron Lee's World of Clowns in Henderson.

Clown College "made me a different person and I hope it made me a better person." Rather than shutter it completely, Heidtman would like to see the college open on alternating years.

"It's really sad for the high school senior who wanted to go to Clown College this summer. I think of myself 11 years ago," she says. "I don't think it's gone forever; I think it's going to come back. It was such an incredible place ... I think it would be selfish not to let anybody else go."

DeDera isn't sure it's gone for good, either. "Honestly, in my heart, I feel that they're going to give it a couple of years and they're going to bring it back in one form or another. I think it's just a resting period."

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