But a rehash of the “circus layout” as my Old Pal puts it, is maybe going to be disappointing, as I can now think of nothing in this connection to pin on Buddy. However, I suppose it might have been considered—for recreation purposes only—as a sort of adjunct to the tannery. The trapeze, horizontal bars, and spring-board, were only about fifty feet removed from the tanvats. And then, too, the lot had the tanyard smell. Ringling Brothers wagon circus had recently made a stand here, and the “fever” among the local youngsters was running high. Activity about the lot was both spirited and awkward, with a lively bunch willing to try anything—once. The real trouble was, we had only one Star performer. Charley Askren was, before he got injured in a fall, a trapeze and bar performer with the Dan Rice circus. He was a welcome instructor. And though he could still do some wonderful stunts, I think there are none I want to mention here, except maybe the time he let me slip through his hands in a rather daring act, the fall to the ground breaking my left arm. This statement, without qualification, would hardly do justice to my old team-mate. Had we made it, the act would have been a honey. And had Charley not said, grandly, to a “skirted” audience, “This is going to be good. Keep your eyes pinned on this Johnny boy, the G-R-E-A-T and only—,” in real circus ballyhoo fashion, it might not have been a flop. Charley used a lot of circus terms in his work with us. The trouble was, I “weakened”—just a wee bit, to be sure—at the moment when I took the air, and after making a complete turn came down also a wee bit tardy for Charley to get a firm hold on me, in his head-down swinging position. Had he caught me by the wrists, he would have tossed me, on the third swing, face about, back to the bar from which I had made the takeoff. In practice, another boy — usually George Foreman, brother of Mrs. L. C. McVay and Mrs. R. A. DeForest — would stand by to right me, in case of a slip. George was tall and very active. Sometimes we would change positions in this act. I know now that this would have been a grand time for me to have called out, in the usual way, “Let George do it!” Sure, we had a well-filled straw-tick which was always placed under the weaklings—but who was there among us that would have wanted to have it brought out in the presence of lady visitors? Of the two lady spectators, one was a redhead. She fell in love with Charley—and married him. Charley had done a lot of impressive flipping and flopping to gain his position on the bar for the act. The redhead’s younger black; haired sister (Anna) was the better looking, and near my age—but, as of the moment, I did not shine as I hoped I might. And then, too, I had that broken arm to think about. Dr. Thomas Milam “splinted” it up drum-tight, according to ancient practice—but, by midnight, he had to do it all over again.