by Stan Mason
‘That’s a brilliant idea!’ retorted the eldest clown. ‘But who’s big enough to do it?’
There was a long pause until the juggler found his voice. ‘What about Danny, the strong man,’ he muttered thoughtfully. ‘He’s nearly seven feet high and very broad. He’d fill one of the gorilla’s skins admirably if he took the part.’
‘I don’t know,’ countered O’Brien hesitantly. ‘He’s a loner. He keeps himself to himself and stays away from everyone else in the circus. In fact he doesn’t have a clue what goes on except for his own act. I don’t think he’d be interested.’
‘Well we can ask him,’ riposted the horse-rider taking the bit. ‘If he refuses he can only say no.’
‘Yeh,’ said the eldest clown. ‘Let’s ask him. If necessary you can pay him more. That might interest him.’
The group left the caravan to go to the strongman’s tent and they looked eagerly inside. Danny was laying on the ground lifting heavy bar-bells in his giant hands for pleasure.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked inquisitively. ‘Why are you all here? Don’t tell me, it’s an emergency and you want my help!’
‘You’re right as it happens,’ stated O’Brien frankly. ‘The gorilla died in the night. We’re in deep trouble. But we do have an idea and you can help us out.’
The strongman stopped moving the bar-bells up and down. ‘Me?’ he rattled. ‘How can I help you? I’m a strongman not a faith healer or a resurrector. What do you want from me?’
‘We’ve had an idea,’ exclaimed the juggler cutting in sharply. ‘A really good one. With the gorilla gone, the circus is in real trouble. We have to do something to save its reputation. What we need is a substitute.’
Danny’s face puckered into a frown. ‘A substitute?’ he muttered in soft voice. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ll,’ continued the juggler, with the bit between his teeth, ‘we need someone to dress up in a gorilla’s outfit and walk the tight-rope. Until we replace him, that is.’
‘Walk the tight-rope?’ exclaimed the giant quickly. ‘Not me! Don’t look at me!’
‘But you’re the ideal person for it,’ claimed the eldest clown. ‘You have the size and the breadth. It would be a piece of cake. You could do it.’
‘I said not me!’ repeated the strongman adamantly. ‘I’m not the man to do it.’
‘Why not?’ demanded O’Brien, angry at the negative response.
‘Because wearing that gorilla’s outfit would give me claustrophobia, that’s why! It’s too hot in there!’
‘How about if I double your salary,’ stated the owner urgently. ‘Would you do it then?’
‘And there’s another thing which is even more relevant,’ went on Danny, ignoring the generous offer. ‘I’m no good at walking tight-ropes. I’ve got trouble keeping my balance.’
‘I’ll treble your salary!’ pleaded O’Brien desperately.
‘It’s no good!’ continued the strongman. ‘I told you I can’t walk the tight-rope. That’s the main thing the gorilla does and I can’t do it! So I’m not your man.’
‘We’ll teach you,’ retorted the eldest clown. ‘We’ll spend all day teaching you how to use the high-wire. You’ll be proficient in no time. You will. Believe me!’
‘If you do this,’ continued the owner against his better judgement, ‘I’ll quadruple your salary. Now that’s something not to be sneezed at, is it?’
The strongman paused to reflect for a while. The offer was very attractive. ‘You’ll show me how to use the high-wire?’ he muttered although he felt most reluctant to comply with their request. ‘Hm, I might give it a try but I don’t promise anything, mind you!’
‘You’ll get the hang of it in no time,’ responded the horse-rider positively. ‘I’m telling you, you will.’
Danny thought for a moment and sat up. ‘Quadruple salary?’ he asked, checking with his boss.
‘You have my word on it. Let’s face it, the problem may be only temporary. We may have some luck in finding another major attraction, who knows? But it’ll take time. Until then, it would be greatly appreciated if you’d help us out and save the circus. If you don’t, we may have to close down.’
Danny nodded reluctantly and a roar went up from all of them in the tent as they slapped the strongman eagerly on his back at his acceptance. From there onwards, it was an uphill struggle. Throughout the day, the trapeze artistes stayed with him to undertake the training. He considered it to be extremely unfortunate to be forced to learn in a few hours the tasks which had taken them many years to perfect. He learned to climb the rope ladder but he kept falling off the tight-rope into the safety net more times than he cared to remember. However, with the use of a short pole which he carried horizontally in front of him, he learned to balance his body much more carefully. However, he happened to find a distinct advantage for himself which was quite unforeseen at the start of his trial. He was deeply in love with the beautiful Estella, the female trapeze artist, and she was devoted to him. They were an incongruous couple with him being so tall and broad and her so tiny and slender, yet they seemed to make a match together although, being the loner he was, Danny lived on his own all the time. Consequently, it helped when he fell into the safety net and climbed back up again to be comforted each time with a gentle kiss. It was really the only factor which gave him sufficient confidence to continue in his new role which he soon regretted he had accepted.
‘I’ve always admired the way you swing from one side to the other,’ he commented when they had stopped to break for some refreshment. She sipped her tea while he drank from a carton of pure orange juice. ‘You do it so effortlessly.’ ‘It’s the easiest thing on earth,’ she boasted, pretending there was no danger in her performance. ‘You simply stand on the tight-rope, grab the handle of the bars as they come at you in the air and swing, landing either on the platform opposite or grabbing the handle of a set of bars as they come towards you. There’s nothing more to it than that. The secret is not to look down. You must never look down!’
‘Never look down,’ he repeated as if to set it firmly in his head. ‘I don’t know. Even after all your help, I’ve no real confidence in myself on the tight-rope. None at all!’
‘You’ll be far better off if you stop thinking about it,’ she advised sagely. ‘Let it go from your mind. I mean, it’s like swimming. As soon as you let your feet come off the bottom you’re okay. It’s pretty much the same up there.’
‘There’s a hundred and five feet across that tight-rope,’ he complained, knowing that she was unable to do anything to convince him. ‘And it’s eighty feet up! Eighty feet up! Worst of all, there’s no safety net if I fall.’
‘You’ll be alright,’ she confided. ‘I’ll be up there with you when you do it. Just look straight ahead at me and think how wonderful everything will be when we’re married.’
‘Huh, if I fall, we’ll never get the chance,’ he grumbled.
‘Ooh, you’re an old grump!’ she chided in mock anger. ‘Get with it for heaven’s sake! Pull yourself together!’
They continued practising for another thirty minutes before they stopped. He still hadn’t made a great deal of headway and she could read the disappointment in his eyes. She climbed down the rope after him to give him a few extra tips before he left but, to her surprise, he had disappeared from the big-top without another word to her. The reason was that Danny had had enough! Although he had made substantial progress during the day, his mind wasn’t truly on the task and he kept falling off the tight-rope long before he could reach the platform at the end of it. It wasn’t good enough and he knew it. Consequently, he made his way to O’Brien’s caravan, entered, and faced the owner determinedly.
‘I’m not going to go through with it!’ he declared bluntly.
‘Not going to go through with what?’ asked the owner, altho
ugh he knew exactly what the answer would be.
‘I’m not going to be your gorilla up there!’ The strongman gesticulated with his arms frustratedly as he put forward his case. ‘Look, I’m no good on the tight-rope. I’m no good at all. If you saw me up there you’d realise it!’
‘Surely you’ve made some headway!’ remarked his boss.
‘Yes, yes. I’ve made some headway but I still can’t manage to get across from one end to the other. I always fall off. Always! It’s no good, I tell you.’
‘The trouble is that a man can never teach his wife how to drive... or the other way around.’
Danny stared at the owner as if the man had lost his senses. ‘Drive? What are you talking about?’ he demanded.
‘I shouldn’t have let Estella teach you. You’re in love with each other. You’re going to be married soon. I realise now it’s the worst combination ever put together. Okay, let’s put our minds to it! You’re going to walk that tight-rope again but this time I’ll be your tutor. And God help you if you let me down!’
He rose and took Danny by the arm, leading him back to the big-top. Then he climbed the rope ladder and called out for the strongman to join him.
‘Now,’ he said when they stood side by side eighty feet up, ‘I want you to hold this pole horizontally in front of you chest high.’ The strongman obeyed and stood stock still at the edge of the wire. ‘Look straight ahead... never look down ... and recite a poem to yourself. Come on! Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard and found that the cupboard was bare. Let’s hear it!’
‘Why do I have to say that?’ asked Danny with a perplexed expression on his big face.
‘You recite that to keep your concentration focussed,’ returned the owner calmly. ‘And at the same time, you must stare directly at an object ahead of you.’
‘But there isn’t one!’ cried the strongman. ‘Not in front of me!’
‘Oh yes there is. There’s a set of lights over there shining down on the ground. There’s a small hole in the big top straight ahead. There’s that coloured patch in the roof. You’ve got dozens of objects if you really want to find them.’
‘How will all this help me?’ asked Danny naively.
‘Try it and see,’ came the reply. ‘Go on! Try it and see!’
He held the pole firmly in his hands across his chest which helped him to balance. He spotted the patch in the roof and focussed his eyes on it, then he started to recite the poem suggested by the owner.
‘Keep reciting!’ urged O’Brien. ‘Keep your eyes on that object. And keep your feet moving. But whatever you do, don’t look down!’
The strongman obeyed him in all respects and it was only when his concentration lapsed and he stopped reciting and took his eyes off the object ahead that he realised he was three-quarters of the way across. It was of little consequence this time to fall into the safety-net because he was enlightened on the secret way of crossing the tight-rope. O’Brien was indeed a great master in times of an emergency! He felt far more relaxed after the owner left him and actually crossed the wire in its entirety three times in the next twenty minutes by using the advice afforded to him. It was a milestone in his career but he was still unsure how successful he would be in front of a full audience. Subsequently, he sat in his tent for the next two hours fighting the urge to quit. There would be a large audience in the big top. He would have no safety net. He had only crossed the wire three times in a whole day. Everything seemed to be stacked against him. What use was quadruple payment if he didn’t succeed and died in the attempt. He rested his tired body on the camp-bed and fell asleep. Even then, his mind tossed and turned in torment as the doubts kept coming to the fore causing him to experience bad dreams. Yet he knew that he was bound to have to go through with it. If he failed, the circus would probably be doomed. It would probably start to lose money and eventually close down. He was a strongman who had no idea of what to do outside the circus. If he lost his job he would probably starve to death selling matches on a street corner for a living. And there was yet another thing which clouded his mind. He was only a strongman in the show but, in this case, all the responsibility rested on his shoulders. It was all extremely unfair. He knew now why he never became involved in anything concerning the circus or the people who worked in it... except his beloved Estella of course. When he awoke, he felt no better. Nothing had changed. There were times when he rose in the morning becoming angry that the passing of the night had altered absolutely nothing in his life. The problems left behind the previous evening were still there the next day.
‘Now you’re sure you’re okay,’ began Estella a few hours later. ‘Do you want to practice some more before the show gets under way. I’ll take you up again if you like.’
‘No,’ he replied slowly, still filled with doubt. ‘O’Brien gave me a few good hints and I’ll stick with them. I mean, you wouldn’t want to give me driving lessons, would you!’
‘Driving lessons?’ she riposted, unable to comprehend his comment. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Never mind,’ he told her. ‘It’s just an expression.’
She left him to get ready for the evening show and he stared at the gorilla outfit which had been left in the tent. He hadn’t even tried it on. Perhaps it wouldn’t fit and then he would be let off the hook. However, luck was against him. Naturally, he had to put some cushions in various places to make it appear similar to the gorilla’s anatomy but, apart from that, it fitted him well. And then he thought more deeply about his dilemma. There were two performances each evening. He had to do the same thing twice every day... risk his life twice each night!
The juggler called a council meeting late that afternoon. He sat in O’Brien’s caravan with the others wearing a concerned expression on his face. ‘I’m seriously worried about the situation,’ he began softly. ‘I’ve just been to the strongman’s tent and I’m not certain he intends to go ahead with it. He doesn’t seem to have any motivation.’
‘What do you mean?’ retorted the horse rider. ‘I thought he agreed to do it at quadruple the salary.’
‘It’s not that,’ went on the juggler sadly. ‘He doesn’t seem have any confidence in himself to do the job.’
‘That’s always been the trouble with him,’ advanced the eldest clown. ‘He’s a loner. He keeps himself to himself and he doesn’t know anything that goes on in the circus. Nothing!’
‘You’re right,’ confirmed the elephant-trainer, ‘but he did agree to do it... at the rate of four times his salary.’
‘He doesn’t even communicate with anyone else in the circus,’ continued the eldest clown miserably, ‘except for Estella, the trapeze artiste, whom he’s going to marry soon.’
‘Worst still,’ cut in the juggler, dispensing with the personal gossip about the strongman, ‘I understand that even after a full day of training he still can’t cross the tight-rope. What the hell can we do about it?’
‘I took him up there myself,’ admitted O’Brien informing them of the situation. ‘He made good headway but I never actually saw him make it all the way across.’
‘There you are,’ added the juggler, having made his point.
‘But it doesn’t mean he can’t do it. And, until he refuses to go up there, he’s still our man,’ continued the owner. ‘I regard anything else as mere speculation.’
‘He’s his own worst enemy,’ claimed the eldest clown, shaking his head. ‘Doesn’t he realise that if he fails to do it, the circus might have to close down? Then he’d be out of a job. He’s got to be made to realise that!’
‘Is there no other way we can deal with this?’ asked the horse-rider unhappily.
‘I’ve contacted every zoo in Britain today,’ O’Brien informed them, not wishing to enter into the field of semantics about the strongman in advance of the show. ‘Unfortunately, none of them is able to help us.
They do have gorillas who can climb ladders but the only way they can get them to cross a tight-rope is for them to hang on it by their hands which doesn’t help our dilemma. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll go to Danny and try to make him realise the importance of the act. It might give him an incentive.’
‘Huh, I wish you luck,’ riposted the juggler sadly. ‘It’ll take a mountain to change that beggar’s mind!’
‘As I told you,’ concluded the owner, ‘that’s speculation.’
They left the caravan and O’Brien followed them to go straight to Danny’s tent. He found the man laying distraught on his camp bed and grasped his hand in a form of friendship. ‘You can do it,’ he told the strongman, managing to hold back his temper. What more could he do to motivate the man. He had already offered him a quadrupled salary. That was more than he had given anyone in the circus in his whole life.
‘I’m willing to give it a go but you’ve got to find a replacement as soon as possible,’ returned the strongman.
‘We’ll find one,’ declared O’Brien, although he knew he was simply mouthing the words. He had no idea whether he could replace the gorilla with anything that would attract the crowds so prolifically in the future.
The scene was set as evening fell. The crowds flocked to the big-top and settled expectantly in their seats munching pop-corn, sweets and chocolate. The show began and soon it was well on its way. Each of the stars performed their act successfully and it was now the turn of the strongman who stood behind the screen at the rear of the tent feeling the heat of his body inside a gorilla’s outfit.
‘Ladeez and gennelmen!’ declared the ring-master. ‘Prepare yourselves for one of the most outstanding performances of this circus... not this year... not this decade... but in this century... of a most unusual act carried out by a wild gorilla.’ The audience was silenced by his words, waiting in anticipation with baited breath for what they excitedly expected to happen. ‘We have the most phenomenal animal in the world because it uses its intelligence... not to speak... not to communicate ... but to climb a ladder like a human-being and to walk a tight-rope of one hundred and five feet in length.’ He paused to allow his words to sink in. ‘The gorilla in question was captured in the wild forests of Borneo, untamed, and it will carry out his performance without the use of a safety-net. Therefore, if it falls it will die. However, somehow it knows what will happen and takes all precautions for its own safety... but who knows what will happen one day if its concentration wavers. So without any more ado, please meet our star performer, Prince Kong... from Borneo!’