My Life at 9200 rpm's: Can you smell the elephants?

     As a kid in Chicago, I looked forward each Spring to the circus coming to town. Beginning a week beforehand, the newspapers heralded the arrival Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey's "Greatest Show on Earth" big top circus.  

     It literally rolled into town on a special train, followed by a parade of the troupe and the animals and their keepers.  At the time, I lived with my family on the South Side of Chicago.  For me, the circus was always worth the wait.  I liked the clowns and animal acts best.

     Most years my dad took me and my brother to the circus. There was always too much to see, hear, and experience.

     Several times I watched the circus parade through the Loop but the most fascinating spectacle was watching the circus elephants help erect the Big Top. I watched it for three years at least ending in the early 1950s. 

     It was in 1952 or 1953 the circus decided not to set up on the city's lakefront south of Soldier Field. Since about 1919, the circus had occupied essentially the same place in the parking lots adjacent to the south end of Soldier Field. I don't know what happened but the Chicago Park District and the circus apparently couldn't reach financial terms.  

     After that, the circus moved indoors when it came to town, first to the Colliseum and then to the International Amphitheater at the Chicago Stock Yards and finally to the northwest suburbs. It was never the same without the wind blowing off Lake Michigan. The big top seemed to have its rightful home at water's edge.

     At any rate, the day the last big top went up in Chicago, we arrived in the afternoon at the lake front site.  We watched for the last time as  elephants with their keepers, and assorted workers assembled the tent and raised it from a huge segmented pile of canvas to about 70 feet at its peaks. 

     What seemed like chaos, produced a weather tight shelter and stage for three hours of wonderful show biz. I recall five rings but could be wrong. It was a weekday but I don't recall missing school to see the tent go up. 

     The elephants hauled canvas, ropes, and support poles. The loads were tremendous--hundreds and hundreds of pounds.  I  cannot recall exactly but there must have been three dozen elephants at work. 

     Their keepers, by turns, coached and prodded them to work cooperatively to hoist the canvas and erect the poles.  The elephants moved the heavy loads of canvas and held tremendous poles in place while workers drove stakes to tie down the poles holding up the canvas.

    The elephants seemed to work easily and relatively quickly because it seemed like the whole process only took a couple of hours.

     We stayed to see the first show.  I recall the ringmaster's standard spiel, in which he invited "ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and children of all ages...your attention please."  

     Then he would direct our attention to the center ring for whatever extravaganza was about to mesmerize a seven or eight year old and anyone else who cared to be transfixed by the colors, action, sounds, music and the smell of the elephants.  When I think about it, I can still smell the elephants.