Vermont: The Best Place to See a Circus Museum

 

Shelburne Museum

Shelburne, Vermont

 

Surprise! You don’t need to journey to Sarasota to see the best circus remembrance in America. I’m happy about that because I doubt I’ll ever return to Florida: too hot, too many bugs, too many reptiles, and too many Republicans. The best place to capture the atmosphere, excitement, and assorted paraphernalia of the circus is Vermont’s Shelburne Museum, 7 miles south of Burlington.

 

The entire 45-acre campus is a delight that includes some of the finest folk art in America, 39 buildings, 20 gardens, and a landlocked steamship, but let’s focus on the Circus Building. Instead of jabbering on, I will divide a smattering of photos into sections: circus posters and objects; the circus parade; and circus photographs.

 

Let’s start with the posters. There are more of them than you will see in Sarasota, they are quirkier, and they are culled from more circuses. There were nearly large ones in American history and scores of smaller ones. Here’s a good index if you want to explore some.  A downside about which I’ve previously written: It’s hard to put posters under glass, hang them straight, and avoid bounce from indoor lighting. I’ve selected some that can be best captured digitally.

Ye Olden Days carousel painting

    

 

 The centerpiece of the Circus Museum is it’s enormous circus parade. It is the work of two men best described as obsesses visionaries: Edgar Decker Kirk of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania who, between 1910-56 jig-sawed some 3,500 pieces. They began as a creative toy for his four kids and evolved into a delight for neighborhood children as well. The second was Roy Arnold of St. Johnsbury, Vermont. He was more systematic in his designs and had a small team of assistants who fashioned a 1” = 1’ parade stretching 525 linear feet that were carved between 1925-55. The Shelburne Museum’s collection is considered folk art mastery and I think you can see why. 

 

The Big Top (darkened to take me out of reflection)

 

    

 

 

Note the detail in the figures

    

    

Tableaux were often circus features

    

    

One could do a study of ethnic misrepresentations at the circus

Including the all Indians are Plains Indians stereotype!

 

This summer the museum also has a small photo display from Elliot Fenander of a shoot he did in Pittsfield, Massachusetts of the Beatty-Cole Brothers Circus in 1972. The circus rolled into a very wet town in 1972 in which the soil was too soggy to erect the Big Top but–as the expression  goes–the show must go on! 

 

 

 

 

Ringling Museum in Sarasota

 

 

 

John and Mabel Ringling Museum

Sarasota, Florida

 

 

 

It’s summertime and this year the living has been more muggy than easy. It seems like a good time to think about the circus, but don’t ask me to explain my logic. As I have written elsewhere on this blog, the circus­, professional baseball, and vaudeville were the first forms of American popular culture. People didn’t or couldn’t travel very far from home until well into the 20^th century, so the circus came to them.

 

 

 

It was truly “lions, tigers, and bears, oh my!” Imagine rural America, which was most of it until after 1920. There were backwater towns in which the most exciting thing was the sound of a train whistle. Now imagine the circus arriving at a local train station and unloading fancy wagons, some of which contained exotic animals. As roustabouts hurriedly erected tent cities at the fairgrounds, a giant parade as much a mile long snaked through the town. What gawker would not wish to see the animals, acrobats, clowns, and sideshows? As late as the early 1960s the arrival of the circus thrilled kids like me in my medium-sized Pennsylvania town.

 

My adult self understands how cruel circuses were to animals and “freak show” attractions, but I confess a lifelong fascination with three-ring circuses. I’ve been fortunate enough to visit three of the best repositories of circus memorabilia in America. Baraboo, Wisconsin, used to be the granddaddy of all. From 1884-1918 it was the winter home of the Ringling Brothers circus. For a time it in consolidation with Barnum & Bailey was the “Greatest Show on Earth.” I visited Baraboo back in the 1980s, aka/the age of film photography so I have no digital images to post, but Baraboo’s collection of circus wagons was second to none, as was its poster gallery. Both remain vivid in my memory.

 

Baraboo is still open but it closed for a time in the 21^st century and came back as Circus World Museum. I’ve not been there but I’ve heard it’s not the same, though there is a Bigtop where you can see some live acts. After 1917 the Ringlings briefly wintered in Bridgeport, Connecticut, before decamping to Sarasota, Florida, the subject of this travelogue. So too did other circuses, including Forepaugh, Golmer, and Sells. John Ringling deeded the property to Florida and it’s now overseen by Florida State University. 

 

 

Sarasota is a huge complex whose main attraction is Ca’ d’Zan, John Ringling’s fanciful and palatial mansion. It also features a large art museum (the subject of a later piece). I wouldn’t say the Circus Museum is forgettable, but it’s certainly not the best collection of circus art in North America. It does have several restored circus wagons and an open-space culling of memorabilia, but we often find out more about the Ringlings and other entrepreneurs than the circuses and performers. 

 

John Ringling's private rail car

 

The foyer has a wall of colorful posters, but they are under glass and harsh lighting makes many of them hard to see. The most outstanding part of the Circus Museum is, oddly, the memorabilia linked to its star acts. These, though, could have been better interpreted. Information is given but (ironically) this part of the museum suffers from being too dark! You have to be of a certain age to recognize names such Clyde Beatty, Emmett Kelly, the Flying Wallendas, General Tom Thumb, or the Zacchini Brothers. I’d recommend that if you visit you jot down names of objects and people that intrigue you and look them up later.

 

The original clown car

 The centerpiece of the Circus Museum is an entire circus in miniature created by businessman Howard Tibbals (Hartco Flooring). It’s a combination of assemblage and handmade objects that swelled to 42,000 pieces over 30 years–a 20^th century circus in ¾ model scale. Tibbals was handy with tools and fashioned much of the circus in his workshop, a tribute to his skill and his obsession with the circus. It’s quite impressive, even when the overall effect is that of a model train project on steroids. Tibbals had an eye for detail, though, and you will come away with a sense of how awesome the circus could be. It’s mind-boggling to consider that such a thing in reality could roll into a town in the morning and be ready to welcome patrons in the evening. 

 

 

Stay tuned, though, for my vote for the best capture of circuses available to curious minds and kids seeking wonderment.

 

Rob Weir  

A. J. Jacobs asks, What if You Followed the Bible Literally?

 

 

 

The Year of Living Biblically (2007)

By A.J. Jacobs

Simon & Schuster, 332 pages.

★★★

 

Why review a 2007 book? Because the author has a new book called A Year if Living Constitutionally. Each format is the same: A. J. Jacobs applies a literal reading of revered documents. The subtitle of The Year of Living Biblically is: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible.

 

Jacobs, a senior editor of Esquire, spent eight months using the Old Testament and four with the New Testament. As a Jew, Jacobs has more familiarity with the Old Testament, plus an ultra-orthodox ex-uncle in Israel who is the family pariah. Much of what Jacobs does is amusing. For example, he uses the Old Testament to justify pinning tassels on his clothing, wearing white, and allowing his beard to grow without trimming it. You can imagine the reaction of subway riders to a sane, quiet, bearded, white-robe-wearing sandal-clad New Yorker in February!

 

Much of what Jacobs tries are rules laid out in Exodus and Leviticus. There is a prohibition against mixing fibers in one's clothing, so he hires an expert to make sure that there is no stray polyester or wool in a cotton garment. He also uses straps to wrap tefillin on his arms and head, buys a small shofar to blow the first of each month, and learns to play the 10-string harp specified in the Old Testament. What about Old Testament rules on women who are menstruating? When he gets change from his coffee, he asks the female clerk to place it on the counter so he won’t touch a woman who might be having her monthly. (His wife Julie is not amused.)

 

There are things dictated by the Bible that forbidden by law in modern society. Jacobs resorts to creative work arounds for Old Testament teachings such as death to adulterers, homosexuals, Sabbath breakers, or those who strike their parents. Jacobs’ son Jasper once got angry and hit his father. Clearly he’s not going to kill Jasper, but how does he get past the command to not spare the rod on a rebellious son? A nerf noodle! That didn't work very well because Jasper found it great fun to smack people with said noodle. For the command to be fruitful and multiply he and Julie resorted to in vitro fertilization for the twins she carried. He ate boiled vegetables at conferences because Jews allegedly did not eat meat until after Moses and seized upon the biblical suggestion to eat locusts–sort of. He sent away for expensive chocolate-covered edible bugs.

 

The Christian part of the book is more of a drive by than a deep dive into the New Testament, but he did visit the Amish, “Red Letter” progressives seeking to be true to the words of Jesus, and even attended a snake handler service. He found it and other things beyond belief, especially a creationist museum in Kentucky. Surprisingly he attended a Jerry Falwell service that he found “bland and boring.”  

 

Jacobs called our attention to the parts of the Bible that are probably cultural, not commands from the Creator. He describes the endless battle between “ritual and mythos.” Sometimes he does this by taking things to their logical extreme. What does one do with the command thou shalt not steal when your two-year-old likes to pilfer straws from Starbucks? Can you get around the ritual command of not touching pigskin by rationalizing that footballs are no longer made from pigs?

 

The book’s biggest takeaway is that no one agrees whether the Bible should be taken literally, figuratively, or a combination of the two. Jacobs admits being a very skeptical agnostic when he started his experiment but ending as a “reverent “agnostic. He found prayer comforting even though he isn’t sure anyone is listening and found a practical metaphor in the Old Testament command to embrace lepers by projecting it onto AIDS patients. It probably won't surprise you to learn that the group who lived the closest to the Bible are the Amish.

 

The book's biggest drawback is that the concept is funnier and more pointed than the writing. Jacobs, like documentarians such as Michael Moore and Wer ner Herzog, places himself at the center of things to the point of annoyance. There was no question though, that his is a great concept. You don't need to read the whole thing, but dipping in and out is eye opening. Unless you’re a literalist!

 

Rob Weir

Signs you Need, or Maybe Not

It's been a while since I posted silly signs. Here are a few with my commentary. You know you want it. Admit it. Just not in polite company. 

 

A rallying point for kids in Sutton PQ who meet to walk to school. Remember walking to school? Of course you don't.

And you guys say *I* have a hole in my head.

I mean, let's be fair chaps. Where is one supposed to park one's nifty vintage sports car?

I think this is for some company but from this day forth, all male sheep shall be named Roy.

I truly have no idea!

Adult chair on the left. Mine is the green one on the right.

What kind of an idiot do they think I am? I've been doing this for years. It's called spaghetti sauce.

(c) Rob Weir

Small Towns: Sutton and Knowlton, Quebec

 

Not every town in the Eastern Townships of Quebec is charming, but crossing the Canadian border can be a sobering lesson for Americans who can’t imagine that a “socialist” country surpasses the USA in quality of life. The other side of that dotted line from economically challenged locales in Maine (Calais, Houlton), New York (Buffalo, Massena, Rouses Point) or Vermont (Alburg, Highgate, North Troy, Richford) is a startling contrast. We recently crossed at Richford, which has struggled to adjust to post-industrialism. It is marked by boarded shops, potholed roads, dire trailer parks, and a 20% poverty rate. The Canadian side features smooth roads, tidy farms, clean lakes, happier people, and towns that invite you to poke about. Here are two nice Quebec towns that gained renewed interest courtesy of author Louise Penny and her Three Pines novels.

 

 

 

 

 

Sutton, Quebec, is less than nine miles from Richford and has but 4,548 residents but its main street is abuzz with shoppers. You’ll find non-chain store retailers, galleries, a microbrewery, concerts, heritage trails, and eateries. We didn’t eat dinner there, but our foodie traveling companions recommend Á La Fontaine, a French restaurant. We had a different destination in mind: La Rumeur Affamée (The Hungry Rumor). If you’re a Louise Penny reader it’s the model for Sarah’s boulangerie praised by Gamache and Jean-Guy for fresh croissants and sandwiches. Maybe I’ve not consumed as many croissants as someone who grew up in France, but I’ve pulled apart  enough buttery delights to say that the croissants from La Rumeur are as good as any I’ve eaten. Better yet, the half of the store that’s not a patisserie is a fromagerie. On the latter score, I can understand the rapture felt by Remy, the Little Chef rat in the movie Ratatouille.

 

Sutton’s economy is also bolstered by being in the midst of a wine-producing region–a small slice of microclimate, I’m told–and you can visit numerous neat-as-a-pin chateaux and vineyards in the area. Maybe some other time, though I’m highly suspicious of wines produced from grapes that can survive in cold climates,. Predictably, I opted for favor of extra treats from La Rumeur. Sutton is also a base for skiing at nearby Mount Sutton, but if you think the town’s vitality is artificially enhanced, it doesn’t explain why Vermont towns near more and bigger resorts haven’t gotten as much spillover. 

 

Pond across from bookstore. Rosa taking a swim?

 

Bench outside of bookstore dedicated to Penny's late husband.

 

Emily adding her thoughts to Penny's guest book in the Louise Penny corner.

  

Our overnight stop was Knowlton, which is roughly the same size as Sutton–roughly because it’s part of a larger entity called Lac Brome that collectively contains 5,609 residents. This confuses visitors, as there are numerous villages called Lac Brome and you have to note what’s inside the parentheses, as in Lac Brome (Knowlton). As the name suggests, it’s a lake town. It’s also where Louise Penny lives and we were fortunate enough to be in the bookstore when she walked in. (She’s also an owner of the store.) If you don’t know, there is no such place as Three Pines; it’s a composite of imagination and numerous places in the Eastern Townships. The Townships were a repository for United Empire Loyalists who didn’t want to break with Britain during the American Revolution. You can occasionally encounter those who sign U.E.L. after their names. For American travelers, the Townships are the place in Quebec with the highest percentage of people whose first language is English. No worries, though; more than half of all Quebecois understand and speak it. 

 

 

We stayed at Le Relais Knowlton which is where Penny (fictively) housed Gamache and other investigators spending the night in Three Pines. It was fun to stay there and to eat in the downstairs restaurant, though I’d caution that the place isn’t the fastidious or gastronomically stupendous establishment of Penny’s Olivier and Gabri. It’s quaint in all that said adjective implies. The food–I had cassoulet–was tasty and reasonably priced, but not one of the most memorable meals I’ve had.

 

Speaking of cassoulet, you might know that Rosa the duck is cranky Ruth Zardo’s companion in the Three Pines series. That made Rosa (whose likeness is ubiquitous) one lucky canard, as duck is a food staple in Knowlton. There are duck farms and at least one duck-centered butchery and sales shop. You name it and it has duck when you sit down to eat: dark lardons in salads, pulled duck in poutine, barbecued duck wings, duck sausages, duck pasta, duck main courses….  If that’s a turn off, you might prefer to visit the Lac-Brome Museum, a seven-building complex that’s like rooting around in attics from the past. That is, if there’s a complete World War I German Fokker biplane somewhere in the rafters. 

 

 

Sutton and Knowlton form the core of Penny’s Three Pines, but below are some of her other settings. As for the green, it’s up for debate but is probably the ultimate literary mosaic. 

 

 

Old Mansion House--still a bit creepy!

 

 

Bellechause in the novel but actually Hovey Manor

 

 

 

 A rich toff is offed on the grounds overlooking Lac Massawippi

Gamache's alleged church St. George's though "he felt closer to God in his Volvo." 

 

 

Abbaye St.-Benoit-Du-Lac on Lac Memprehemagog, the site of another novel

My vote for the town green goes to North Hatley, which is also home to the model for Beliveau's general store (actually J.B. LeBaron).

August 2024 : Jayce Turley, Olcay Bayir, Little Falls Trophy, Los Ruphay, KJ Denhert, Biel Marti

 

 

 

Kentucky-bred Jayce Turley is just 19-years-old, but he and his band Cardinal Point impressed me greatly. The LP Broke Down is Americana in a broad sense: a bit of folk, a bit of country, some blues, some rock…. Turley’s high tenor is a pleasant and comforting contrast to the sizzle he and the band work themselves into. “Rust” is about being who you are, not a label slapped on you. You should note the ease with which Turley and the band play off each other and the maturity of Turley’s vocals. The video of “Misery” is solo acoustic, but you can detect some blues-rock styling. It’s a true-to-life murder ballad that happened in his hometown. “Broke Down” is about those moments in life when things are going well and then they don’t. In this case it’s a recounting of his van breaking down in Ohio that features some bluegrass(ish) fiddle. “Liquor Store” is country mixed with rockabilly. Turley has another song (not on the record) called “Getting Out of Kentucky.” I have a feeling this young man will soon be able to go wherever he wishes. 

 

 

To my chagrin, I’m terrible at languages. I wish I could tell you exactly what Olcay Bayir is singing on her glorious album Tu Gulî.  It’s not French, rather an Anatolian dialect and she is a Kurd who lives in London. The album title means “You Are a Rose,” but I would call the album a jewel. In addition to Setero Kurdish, Bayir sings in Turkish and other unfamiliar (to me) tongues. The best way to appreciate her is to listen. Try “Edle,” which opens with primal ululation. Its joyousness and steady hand percussion bespeak the fact that it’s a wedding dance. (It sure beats “Here Comes the Bride!”)  Both “Tal Tala” and “Nare Nare” are traditional songs, the first upbeat, the second emotive and slow. “Adana” is mournful, but for a reason. Bayir takes us to Armenia to sing about the medez yeghern, the “great crime” of the 1915 genocide of Armenians by Ottoman Turks. Call it the album’s sad song. It’s simply uplifting to listen to the gifted Bayir.

 

 

I’ve always maintained that genres are necessary for consumers but tricky in application. Both “folk” and “rock” are out of fashion these days (they appear as either country or Americana), but Little Falls Trophy is decidedly a rock band, albeit one that gravitates toward the softer end of the spectrum on Dutch Motel. Little Falls Trophy is the namesake for singer/guitarist Doug Albregts, and his songs are inspired more by The Beatles than the Rolling Stones or metal music. He's a Wisconsin native who moved to New Jersey and named his act and the studio musicians he assembled for an actual trophy shop in Jersey. Albregts retains a lot of rock n’ roll attitude. “Thursday is Friday” is a drinking song that advocates getting a liquid head start to the weekend. The guitar-forward “Irreverent” also packs ironic insouciance. “Universal” is more jangly and has smooth vocals but mixes noise with quiet interludes. “Jamie and Jimmy” is solid storytelling and “My LittleSunshine” has surf guitar riffs. In all, a very good record.

 

Short Cuts

 

 

 

In 1968, a group of Bolivians, especially Aymara Quechua Indians, formed Los Ruphay. “Ruphay” means ray of light in Quechua, and the group’s repertoire spotlights Andean music heavy on panpipes and charangos (a plucked guitar-like instrument). The Three Seasons of the Andes is a posthumous collection of music from former leader Mario Gutiérrez. Sample the haunting “Lupi pacha” and the more pastoral  “Thaya pacha.” Among other things pacha means land, soil, and place.

 

 

 

On her new album The Evening News, KJ Denhert offers jazz standards such as “Surrey with the Fringe on Top” and “The Street on WhichYou Live” with re-imagined pop songs the likes of “Postcard from Paris” and “Eleanor Rigby.” I must admit that soft jazz has always been background mood music for me, but Denhert, who is often categorized as an “urban jazz” singer,” is clearly talented performer and lives up to the hype. Now if I can only figure out how “rural jazz” differs from what city slickers sing….

 

 

Biel Marti is a Catalan folk artist based in Barcelona. His newest record Somnis per a tu i per a mi is a pleasing singer/songwriter album in any language.  The title song has a sweet melody that contrasts a slight vocal rasp, and “Primavera” (“Spring”) has a catchy chorus that invites you to learn enough Catalan to sing along. The album title translates “dreams for you and me,” and isn’t that one of the things folk music does best?