Memoirs of a Circus Clown

By David Figlioli

The true story of film and television actor David Figlioli's journey from a hard fought steady career in Hollywood to his life changing decision to run away and join the circus.
Attempted human rights violations, drug use, imprisonment, deportation, sex, bureaucratic buffoonery, world travel, cultures clashing, artistic growth and the reality of living the dream are candidly unveiled in the new book, "MEMOIRS of a CIRCUS CLOWN".
Unapologetically honest and yet filled with the belief in the importance of dreams, "MEMOIRS of a CIRCUS CLOWN" is a unique, first person account of an actor following his dreams of working in television and the subsequent midlife crisis that propelled him to get a job touring and performing as a clown in the circus.
Discover the reality of working in Hollywood and an insiders view of what it takes to audition, train, tour and perform for millions of spectators in the modern day circus. Follow the adventure of one man's journey toward conquering his biggest fears and the ultimate discovering of himself while hidden behind a mask of clown make-up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Figlioli
• Release date: May 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310805868

David Figlioli

First time author David Figlioli is a twenty year veteran of the entertainment industry and most notably a sought after character actor in film, television and commercials. Top network television guest starring credits, lead roles inpopular television movies, feature films, theatre and well over 100 television commercials, David Figlioli’sexperience as an actor is extensive.Following an unexpected midlife crisis before turning 40, David decided to do what others only joke about inpassing when he literally ran away and joined the circus.Having spent 3 years traveling around the world andperforming in just over 1,000 performances with the circus, David has put pen to paper and published a book about his life in Hollywood and his first hand experience of auditioning, training, performing and experiencing what it really takes to work in the circus.Presently living in Hollywood, California, Mr. Figliolicontinues to make his living as an actor and looks forward to sharing the “reality of the dream” through “MEMOIRS of a CIRCUS CLOWN”.Learn more at www.DavidFiglioli.com.

Book preview

MEMOIRS of a CIRCUS CLOWN

The Reality of the Dream

By: David Figlioli

Cover Photo by: Anastasia Bykovskaya

Edited by: Gary Smailes

Copy Editor: Denise Barker

Smashwords Edition Copyright 2014

Legal Disclaimer: This is a work of creative nonfiction. While stories in this book are true, names and identifying details have been changed. The reader should not make any assumptions of similarities or relation to any specific person, business, production or corporation referenced in this book.

CHAPTER 1

The Swine Flu

I was aboard a thirteen-hour trans-Pacific flight when, suddenly and without warning, every pore in my body began to perspire. My once-light, athletic gray T-shirt was instantly transformed into a soaked dark gray rag. Sweat was pouring from my head and face in endless sheets of moisture, and the zippered hoodie I had been using as a pillow was now being used as a mop, its only job, to absorb the endless puddles forming on every surface of me.

My stomach sank and my mouth began to water, telling me that one wrong move would result in me projectile vomiting on the back of the person’s head in front of me. My brain signaled that, if I didn’t put my head between my knees and breathe with focused intention, I was going to pass out.

As I stared at the carpeted cabin floor beneath my feet, my hoodie pressed to my forehead, my breaths steadily drawn in through the nose and slowly out through stiffly puckered lips, the flight attendant announced, first in Japanese, then in English, Passengers, please fasten your safety belts. . . . We are about to land.

A sense of panic washed over my body. I instantly knew the timing of my sudden reaction to the Vicodin, which I had taken to help ease the pain of the 13-hour trans-Pacific flight, and the recent dental work I had undergone in Los Angeles, was not well-advised.

It was May 2009. The world, and especially Japan, was in full pandemic paranoia about what was being called the Swine Flu.

Having now lived in Japan for three months, I had already learned that, of the many things that made Japan unique and different, first and foremost was that they were a country of germophobes. People wearing surgical masks while walking down the street and riding on the subway, along with signs and billboards posted throughout public transportation vehicles instructing citizens of their duty to protect themselves and others by limiting the sharing of airborne pathogens, were immediately evident to any foreigner arriving in the country.

I knew that, when the plane landed in Tokyo, before anyone could exit, Japanese officials would board, uniformed in Hazmat suits and carrying heat-sensing devices to detect any passengers whose core temperature might be above average. If a passenger was found to have a higher-than-normal temperature, these individuals, along with possibly everyone on the plane, would then be escorted into a quarantine room.

The reality, that I was at risk of not being able to enter Japan, suddenly seemed to lend credence to the circus management’s earlier attempts to restrict my ability to travel freely during my scheduled vacation. I had already defied management’s instructions by crossing the Japanese borders, which according to a carefully worded memo could result in serious consequences.

Although I was aware of the Japanese paranoia, I also knew that—after 120 shows in Tokyo, with only one day off a week, and a scheduled appointment in Los Angeles to complete the dental work I had waited three months to finish—I was determined to let the circus management know that their instructions that we could not leave the country during our scheduled vacation was not only contractually unsupported but was also most likely a violation of basic human rights under international law.

The Swine Flu issue first came to light toward the end of our initial three-month run in Tokyo. Just three days before our final performance and the beginning of the circus performers’ ten-day vacation, management shared with the performers that there was a possibility that circus headquarters may decide that the performers cannot leave the country during our scheduled break.

Being only one of four artists out of seventy-five whose first language was English, and only one of seven who were not in their twenties and had life experience outside of sports and the circus, I immediately felt that this suggestion was not even remotely acceptable from a legal or ethical standpoint. I raised my hand at the gathered company meeting backstage and asked, Where in our contract does it say that management can restrict our right to travel during our time off?

The response to my question from the manager on tour was, I will need to get back to you on that.

It often seemed that the circus’s tour management representatives were just mouthpieces for the actual management personnel back at headquarters. I was under the impression that tour management was expected to relay everything that happened, each day, both onstage and backstage, through email to the upper management. Any directives or disciplinary action often seemed to be coming from headquarters for the touring management to relay.

If this was true, it would make sense why there would be added conflict between the on-tour management and the performers, since instructions on how to deal with a problem could often appear reasonable from headquarters at a distance, but very difficult to carry out by the tour management, who were living, eating, partying and cohabitating within the touring bubble of performers. The travel restriction was a prime example.

Two days before our final performance in Tokyo, the tour manager called another meeting to instruct the performers that management has decided that no one is to leave the country during our scheduled vacation because of fear that the Japanese government may close its borders. Most of the performers were visibly upset, and some were even in tears.

The show was two-hours long with a half-hour intermission making a typical two-show day eight hours in length, four hours of which were onstage performing for sold-out houses of three thousand spectators. The two one-show days per week were also packed with trainings for the athletes to keep their skills sharp. A typical workweek, including travel time to and from the site, was easily over fifty hours.

As a result of the grueling schedule, most everyone was exhausted and fatigued. The gap between shows was a chance for us to recharge our batteries. Everyone in the cast had made plans to leave the country during the ten-day break, instead of immediately traveling to the next city on our tour.

As soon as the tour manager announced management’s decision about what we could do during our vacations, the question I had asked the previous day was then addressed. I was quickly told that my question about where in the contract this was covered was under Act of God.

I had studied my contract the previous evening in preparation for a fight. I immediately stopped the company manager from continuing and recited verbatim the contractual definition of Act of God. I explained, The section pertaining to an Act of God relieves the circus, and the performer, from their contractual obligations in the event of an Act of God, defined as, but not limited to, fire, hurricane, earthquake, flood or epidemic.

I then questioned the contract’s ability to restrict the performers’ ability to travel for fear of these conditions possibly happening. I added that restricting our rights to travel is a violation of basic human rights and is illegal. Stunned in embarrassment, the tour manager then told the group and me that she would need to get back to us on that.

The next morning, a two-show day, when a company meeting had previously been scheduled to further address the situation, we were instructed by the touring Director of Performers that the tour manager was not on site and that any further questions about the travel restriction would be taken on an individual basis in the tour manager’s office later in the day.

In order to force management to continue communicating with the group, one of the performers started a petition. Fifty performers signed, stating they were not happy with the travel restriction and that the issue needed to be addressed further. The petition, along with the fear that the lack of communication was affecting the show, forced management to reluctantly address the issue again in a group setting.

The very angry tour manager—a short round woman in her thirties, whose previous work experience included being an elementary schoolteacher—was losing control. She threatened in a huff to slam this door in your face when I went to her office to ask if she would be addressing the performers as a group as she had promised the night before. Afterward she reluctantly acquiesced and posted a nonmandatory meeting for that evening to address the travel restriction. Everyone showed up.

The tour manager first needed to receive the carefully constructed talking points that had been obviously filtered through the circus’s lawyers. At the meeting, the tour manager first admitted that, No, it is not a contractual obligation for you to stay in the country. Score one for the clown. Second, It is in fact illegal for the circus to restrict your ability to travel. The clown wins again. But Management could not ensure ‘what could happen to you’ if you do not comply with management’s restrictions on leaving the country.

This statement was then followed by a couple stories of previous instances where performers had been fired from other circus shows, but these were offered with the vaguely threatening statement This is not the same thing, but we cannot say what could happen.

In both the statement that management could not ensure what could happen to you and in a memo that came from someone with a fancy corporate title stating anyone leaving the country could expose themselves to serious consequences, I felt it was obvious that the circus’s lawyers had crafted the language.

I thought that the beautifully ambiguous meaning of these statements could easily be construed in two ways. It could be determined that these statements meant that a performer could lose their job. However, they could also have meant that the happen to you and the serious consequences were referring to the Swine Flu and management’s concern about the performer’s health and well-being if he or she were to travel.

In the end, the circus management got their way. Almost. Seventy-three of the seventy-five performers canceled their