The Scrivener: Spangles And Sawdust - Part Four
“An enormous trailer was driven into the ring, the lights went down, and from some sort of keyboard the whole thing was induced to give forth splendid sprays and fountains that rose and fell to music, with colourful lighting making it a memorable sight….’’ Brian Barratt recalls Wilkie’s Great Continental Circus and Boswells Circus, both of which he saw while living in Zimbabwe (then Southern Rhodesia).
In the mid 1950's, I lived in Harare, Zimbabwe (then called Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia), and saw Boswells Circus several times. It travelled up from South Africa. The Boswells originally came from an old circus family in England and might be related to the many Boswells whose names appeared in fairgrounds and theatres and on Gypsy fortune-tellers' booths.
They always had a large tent with two king poles, and presented a much more lavish show than the small tenting circuses of my childhood. Instead of the antiquated gramophone they had real music played by real people on real instruments. Their horse and equestrian acts were plentiful and well produced.
At about that time, W.H.Wilkie arrived from England, and started Wilkie's Great Continental Circus, which also came up from South Africa to Harare from time to time. He added some gusto to the tenting show at a time when the magic of the sawdust ring was perhaps losing its appeal.
In the mid-1960's, for instance, he presented The Dagenham Girl Pipers, four or five young ladies, complete with bagpipes and kilts. Whether or not they had ever seen Dagenham was, of course, a question one doesn’t ask in the world of circus mystique.
He also introduced a Water Spectacle — not quite as lavish as the one at Blackpool, but most impressive. An enormous trailer was driven into the ring, the lights went down, and from some sort of keyboard the whole thing was induced to give forth splendid sprays and fountains that rose and fell to music, with colourful lighting making it a memorable sight.
I used to hang around the performers' entrance at Wilkies, and chat to the circus folk. In my old album, I have photographs of Alan-Alan, who did a convincing Houdini escape from a straightjacket while suspended above the ring; Les Castors, a lovely French family of foot jugglers, who sent me a postcard from Paris; and Charlie Bale, a clown.
Charlie is named by Butch Reynolds in Broken-hearted Clown (Argo Publications, London 1954) as one of the great clowns, along with Coco, Percy Huxter and Harry Pinder. He is listed in the 1966 Wilkie programme as Assistant House Manager, and I believe he later became a Director. I suppose he broke the unwritten agreement on make-up, as he copied Charlie Chaplin's face, hair and dress, complete with walking cane.
He was a true clown — a polished acrobat, tightrope walker, animal trainer, everything else, in the old tradition.
After celebrating my 65th birthday by hooking up to the Internet, I got in touch with one of the Wilkie family in South Africa. The circus is now just a small affair, with a training school for young performers.
With their help, I found Charlie Bale’s address in England, and wrote to thank him for happy memories. He and his wife Norah, who also performed, were then in retirement in the south of England. Not long after that, Charlie passed away. Another time for weeping. A great man had gone from among us.
© Copyright 2005 Brian Barratt
