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Shorts
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| Ike and Tina | |
| By Snodlander | ||||||||||||||
| 07 November 2006 | ||||||||||||||
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I was in two minds as to where to post this. As I have taken a slight artisitc liberty, I shall post it here. You wouldn’t know it to look at me now, thirty years chained by a collar and tie, but I come from a circus family. Nowadays the only connection we have is through my baby brother Peat. Yes, I know it should be ‘Pete’, but he’s an anarchic rebel, so he spells his name anarchically. Actually, he spells everything anarchically. And strictly speaking he doesn’t follow the circus life, but is more of a freelancer. If you have a strong stomach, you can find out more about him at http://www.devilstickpeat.co.uk/. In fact, all four of us brothers juggle, but only Peat does it for money. Ask to see his passport. It has ‘Fool’ as his profession. For the rest of us it’s just a party trick. But back in the day, Mum and Dad followed the family tradition and worked the circuses. Back then it was a living. For the Billy Smarts of that world a good living. They brought spectacle and wonder to lives not then sated by David Attenborough or Claude Van Damme. When getting a seven and a half ton elephant to balance on a ball was amazing, not a shameless act of cruelty. When the height of special effects was to get the doors of the clowns’ car to fall off on cue. Dad was a tumbler and ballboy. That is to say he did acrobatics with a couple of Mum’s brothers, and juggled. Mum worked the ring, which mainly consisted of wearing three sequins and a smile, and pointing to someone doing something clever. She had the legs for it. Political correctness hadn’t yet been invented. And when they weren’t performing they ran a stall. Try your luck with the ducks. Everyone a winner. It was an oddly English game, loved by parents of toddlers. The child would hook a plastic duck as it floated on a shallow moat that surrounded the cheap prizes. On the underneath would be a number. The number would relate to a prize. The prizes were always cheaper than the ticket to play, but the toddler always laughed, because he had actually won something. You wouldn’t have been able to sell the tat, but to win it! What joy! But round about the time I appeared on the scene, Mum and Dad saw the writing on the wall. Television was becoming popular in the UK, not just with the middle classes, but the workers, the core of the circus audience, were now starting to be able to afford a telly. Colour was being introduced to more and more cinema films. The youth were spending their money on rock and roll. They could see the end of circuses, or at least the end of circus life as they knew it. So they decided to get out. Most of their generation in my family ended up in the licensed trade, where showmanship and an outgoing personality is an advantage. But Mum and Dad decided that, if they were going to bow out, they’d go with a bang. And so it was that around the start of 1967 they joined the Barnum and Bailey circus for one last tour. Barnum and Bailey had declined, along with many other circuses, but when the Feld brothers took it over, it bucked the trend and recruited heavily for that season. They joined the Blue tour, a mile-long train that toured down the west coast of the States, then up through the Central-Western states, while the Red tour did the same on the east coast. In 1967 the barriers were coming down all over the world, at least amongst the literati and liberal elite. The old rules were thrown away, and a new social order was on the horizon. Nowhere more so than in Hollywood, where the cult of personality, easy money and lots of leisure meant more licence than had ever been granted before. The radio was full of black music, and it was being bought as much by white kids as black. Ike and Tina Turner were the new wunderkind of the music business, and that summer Ike had hired a house in Hollywood to entertain friends and colleagues. The Turners saw that the circus was coming to town, and decided to have a circus-themed evening. They hired some of the performers that had acts suitable for a garden soiree (no high wire or lion taming) to entertain the guests. The deal was that the performers would do their various acts in the early evening, and then mingle with the guests as exotica, eating and drinking with them. Tina Turner. Nowdays, depending on your preferences, you may think of her as the ultimate glamorous grannie or a collection of broom handles tied together with six inches of material. It’s hard to believe now, but at that point both Ike and Tina were junk food addicts. They were notorious for their unhealthy meals. Burgers, KFC, fries, it didn’t matter so long as it was fried. To the women of the circus this was a problem. As mentioned before, quite a lot of a ring-worker was visible. There’s a reason it’s called ‘show’ business. And every pound reveals itself under the harsh lights of the ring, straining to get free of the tight, skimpy costumes. Mum and Dad, neither requiring anything more bulky than juggling clubs and balls, were on the list to attend. Everyone knew that this was their swansong, and in fact they were due to leave the train a few weeks later, catch a train back to New York, and settle down behind the bar of a club somewhere. So the women volunteered Mum to be the one to approach the Turners before the big night, to tactfully request a more healthy option at the buffet for the girls. After all, what was the worse that could happen? If Mum was fired, it didn’t really alter their plans that much. Besides, maybe her legs would help persuade Ike. So Mum and Dad ermed and ahhed about how to put the request. After much deliberation they decided that the direct, simple approach would be best. Mum wrote down what it was that she was going to say, and that piece of paper has been handed down to me as part of our family heritage: evidence that Mum actually spoke to the legendary Tina Turner. The note simply states: “Don’t fry for tea, Ike and Tina!” We’ve even set it to music.
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