Saturday, July 17, 1926

It was our final night in Wichita, as I stood before a cheering crowd. The elephants were compliant as I played a sad waltz, and once the act was over, the crowd rose to their feet in applause. Eddie Bee gave me a thumbs up as he sat high upon Rosie’s back. I took a bow as the trainers forced the elephants to bow as well, and then led them away towards their pins. I needed a drink badly and rushed past the many onlookers. Herc, as well as other performers, patted me on my back and shook my hand as I smiled and nodded. Ambrose stood with his arm draped around Miss Melody Vanderpelt and nodded his approval.

As I pushed past crowds of people to exit the tent, I saw Mr Addler dressed in his pinstriped suit and bowler hat standing in my way with a smile on his face.

“Mr Jones, I must say that I was impressed with that performance tonight. You truly have a gift with the elephants. Here I want to show my appreciation,”he said, as he stuck out his arm to shake my hand, and handed me a five dollar bill. “Keep up the good work.” Then he patted me on my back and walked inside.

“Thanks, Mr Addler,” I said, calling back at him, but he didn’t respond.

I walked back to our trailer, and laid my fiddle on the dresser, then grabbed the bottle of whiskey I kept stashed under my bunk. My hand shook and I took a big swig. I laid back on my cot feeling relieved that the show was over. I reached over and grabbed a jar with the rest of the money I had been saving, and dropped the five dollar bill inside, and replaced it back on the dresser. I took another big swig and sighed. The shakes were easing up a bit.

It felt good to be noticed again. I couldn’t remember the last time I was thanked for doing a good job. I reached over on the dresser and picked up my copy of Walt Whitman’s, Leaves of Grass. I turned to my favorite poem, Song of the Open Road, and found the photograph of my mother, old and faded, but it was all I had left to remember her by. Those happier days were long past. If she could have just seen me tonight. They were clapping for me. I started to cry for my lost youth and the friends and family I had abandoned along the way. You can’t go back when there’s nothin’ to go back to. I took another swig. I loved the way it burned my throat and numbed my pain. Soon I was swimming in a dull bliss.

A few hours later the door burst open and Ambrose entered with Miss Vanderpelt wrapped in his arms.

“My dear Harvey, I must congratulate you on a wonderful performance tonight. You were the talk of the town,” he said, walking towards my cot. “Oh for God’s sake,” he said, staring at me, folding his arms. “Melody, my sweet, would you be so kind to excuse us. I need to attend to important matters,” he said, giving her a kiss and escorting her to the door.

“Harvey, wake up,” he said, grabbing my arm. 

“Wh, what? What’s wrong?” I mumbled. 

“My dear, dear, sad clown. I’m afraid you’ve pissed yourself. I found you here in this sad state. You were doing so good trying to stay sober. Here lets get you up,” he said, taking my arm.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just let me be,” I demanded. 

“No Harvey, I can’t allow you to linger here in urine soaked trousers and vomit in your bed. If word were to get out that you are drinking again, the boss could fire you,” he said, pulling me up, but I was limp. He threw my arm around his neck and walked me to the door, down the step and around back to the rain barrels. I vomited on the way there. I suppose I blacked out again.

I woke up in my cot. We were on the road again. I looked around and saw Ambrose reading one of my books at his desk.

“The dead has arisen. Would you care for a cup of tea?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“What happened last night?” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“You, my dear friend, lost all dignity, you pissed and shat yourself. I, the good samaritan that I am, came to your rescue and cleaned your sorry ass mess. Here drink this, you need liquids besides the hard stuff,” he said, handing me a cup of hot tea.

“Where are we? I don’t remember much,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“I suppose you wouldn’t. My best guess is that we are halfway to Topeka by now,” he said, peeking out the window. He sat back down and caught me reaching for my bottle of whiskey. “I’m sorry Harvey, but you won’t find that bottle. I poured it all out. I did it for your own good.”

My head ached and I felt terrible. I sipped the tea and fumed with anger that Ambrose poured out my booze. “You had no right to do that,” I mumbled under my breath, giving Ambrose a sideways look.

“No, you’re right, but I did it anyway because I’ve taken a liking to you, you old fool. Now come on and drink that tea. We’ll be stopping soon and the boss will want you to help with the elephants, and you need to be sober when he does,” he said, going back to his reading.

A couple hours had passed by and the caravan stopped on the outskirts of Topeka. The roustabouts quickly began to assemble the tents. I left the trailer and found a nice shade tree to sit under. I heard someone running up behind me, and turned to see young Bo Dandy huffing and puffing, bending over grabbing his knees.

“Mr Bowman sent me to get ya. Says he needs ya to help train the elephants,” he says, resting his hands in the pockets of his overalls.

I slowly got to my feet and said, “ Should I bring the fiddle?”

“Didn’t say. Just sent me to get you right away,” he said, jogging back across the field.

When I arrived at the place where they kept the elephants, I heard all sorts of commotion. The men had taken the baby elephant away from its mother and tied all four of its feet apart so it couldn’t walk. The adult elephants were in another part of the field trumpeting and roaring with anger.

“Ah, there you are, clown,” said Clyde Bowman, with a sky grin. “I want you to go over to where the other elephants are and play them a few tunes. They don’t like what we are doing to their baby.”

“What are you doing to the baby?” I asked, all surprised.

“Gotta break ‘em in sometime. Gotta start ‘em young so they become obedient,” he said, poking the baby behind its ear with the billhook bringing blood. The baby screamed and fought the ropes. I wanted to set it free and yet I turned my head to look away. 

“Can’t you train the elephants without being so cruel? Like offer them rewards instead of pain?” I insisted.

“It doesn’t work that way, clown,” said Clyde laughing. He motioned me over with his index finger and handed me the bullhook. “Take this and jab it behind his ear. You gotta show them who’s boss. You gotta break their fighting spirit before you can train them.”

I held the bullhook in my shaking hands. The little elephant looked at me with fear in its eyes.

“Do it clown! Show him who’s boss,” Clyde yelled.

Reluctantly, I lightly jabbed the baby and it screamed. I recoiled in horror.

“Do it again harder this time like you mean business!” he roared. 

“I can’t, I just can’t,” I said, handing the billhook back to Clyde.

He laughed and said, “Go back to the other elephants, clown. You’re pathetic,” he said, waving me out of the tent.

I picked up my fiddle and shuffled over to where the other elephants were kept. The mother looked frantic with grief, bellowing and trumpeting as she stopped her feet. Rosie looked at me roaring along with the others. With tears in my eyes, I rested the fiddle against my chin and ran the bow across the strings. I played a most melancholy melody. The elephants stopped roaring and hung their heads. Tears sprang from their eyes as I played. 

Pete Fryman, Bo Dandy, and Tim Clarke walked over to me, astonished at what they’d seen.

“I’m impressed,” said Pete, patting me on the shoulder. “Them elephants were mad as hell and you sure calmed them down.”

“No shit. We didn’t need to use the billhooks on them either,” said Bo smiling. I hate having to use it.”

“I wish they’d stay mad. It’s not right what he’s doing to the baby,” I said, shaking my head. “Its not right.” I continued to play, wanting a drink so bad.

The next day, I sat in our wagon reading poetry. There was banging on the door, then I heard a whistle. I opened the door.

“Are you busy, Clown? Clyde Bowman said, standing with his hands on his waist, then spat some claw in the dirt.

“Well I, I… I was planning to do some reading.”

“No, you have work to do. Tina is being uncooperative. Come with me.”

I hung my head and followed the bastard back to the area where they kept the baby elephant. Clyde and Pete Fryman were forcing the baby elephant to perform various tasks. They were trying to teach it to walk in a circle holding each other’s tail with their trunks. Tina, as they called it, was being belligerent and refused to cooperate. Pete jabbed the bullhook into her neck behind her right ear, causing her to cry. Her wide terrified eyes sought me out.

“Why are you doing this to the baby? She’ll learn these tricks,” I said.

“You don’t have to use that hook.”

“Tina’s been stubborn all morning. She refuses to walk and just stands there,” Jimbo says, patting her on the rump.

 I looked into her eyes and saw tears. “What’s wrong, Tina? You look sad or in pain.” I gently tugged on the rope that was around its neck. “Come on, Sweetie, show these men that you can do this.”

Tina took a small step and favored her right leg. I bent down and raised up its foot and discovered that she had a big thorn in her foot and it had become infected. “This is what’s wrong. She’s got a big thorn in her foot. Didn’t you guys think to check to see if she was in good health?” I scolded. I grabbed the thorn and pulled it out. There was blood on the hay from various other wounds these men had inflicted upon the poor creature.

“I thought the blood was from the bullhook where we poked her, Pete chuckled.

“I picked up the bullhook and ran over to Pete waving it in his face. “I should shove this up your ass!” I screamed.

“Put that shit down you old fool. We’ll handle this. You just go back and watch after the rest of the elephants,”Clyde said pulling the hook from my hands. 

“Calm down, Harvey. These animals have thick skin. You have to poke them a little. It doesn’t hurt them much, geesh,” Pete said, shaking his head.

I slunk back to the wagon feeling disgusted. I thought of quitting right then and there, but when I got to the wagon, I was greeted by all my friends and praised for my ability with the elephants. It had been many years since I’d felt this important. I sighed and thought, maybe things will get better. I tried to put the thought of that tortured baby out of my mind. I attempted to justify my role in all this. I was getting an extra five bucks every performance.

“Come, Harvey. We’ve got some watermelon and sandwiches down by the big tent. We’re having a little picnic,” Ambrose said putting his arm around my shoulder. “Are you okay, you look a bit worried.”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll be okay once I sit in the shade.”

“You probably got too hot. The watermelon will cool you off.”