Doug Daugherty
It started on a rainy afternoon watching the Little Rascals in black and white before Bob Brandy on WTVC Channel 9. As the screen flickered and rolled, we were intrigued…or, perhaps just bored. The dim light in our nine-year-old brains flashed.
“Let’s have a show!” someone volunteered. (We were watching the Our Gang Follies.)
Plans came together quickly. First, we needed a place without adults that was inside. “Let’s do it in the garage!”
Quickly the show was created, a great moment in the world of entertainment! The Spankies, Alfalfas, Darlas and Buckwheats came together. It would be the next day, a Saturday.
The Wiley Avenue gang spread out, hand drawn fliers in hand and scoured the surrounding blocks for similarly minded rubes.
When the kids lined up the next day, each had a nickel or five pennies. We would be rich!
Curly put on a long red coat and was the Master of Ceremonies.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to The Greatest Show on Earth. Before you today will be acts that will thrill you, mystify you and make you wonder.” (Dramatic pause with a great sweeping of his too-large top hat.)
“May I introduce you to King Bong the most terrifying ape-man from Borneo!”
Out came Big J. J., his body clothed in a Gorilla costume, black and fuzzy. A wig of tangles hair from his mother’s closet covered his head. Green and blue make-up was spread across his face. J. J. snarled through plastic teeth. Ketchup dripped down his jowls. “Raugh,” he growled. Pulling a doll from a little girl, he bit off her head!
This got their attention.
Out came Bobby, dressed like a great hunter from deepest darkest Africa, brandishing a plastic whip. “Back, I say! Snapping the whip towards the blood smeared neanderthal. “Back.” He snapped the whip again. The ape-man retreated, snarling all the way. Bobby fearlessly approached holding a cookie. The ape fell on his knees, begging. When he dropped the decapitated doll, a net fell on him and he was pulled, pounding his chest, off the stage.
“Now, friends and enemies, we bring you Merdoo the Magician.”
I entered from stage right.
Dressed in black with a long red cape, I waived my hand and produced a parakeet from beneath my cape. Applause. Then a large cardboard box was brought in.
“Watch, as Merdoo the Magnificent, turn a cat into a dog.” A neighbor’s Siamese was reluctantly put in the box. The box began to shake. I waived my wand. Suddenly the box was full of hissing and barking and it moved across the floor. Apparently, the magical exchange hadn’t gone so well. Out burst the cat with a Jack Russell terrier snapping at his heels.
Cleverly, I threw down some exploding smoke balls from July Fourth and made my exit.
What followed was the curious Rabbit Parade, Hoppers in costumes; then dogs and cats dressed like clowns; and followed by little girls in a fashion parade dressed in big sisters’ clothes.
Then the lights darkened, and an ancient Magic Lantern projector was revealed. (Someone’s grandparents had lent the antique brass and glass device.) Onto the stretched screen sheet came pictures of Sinbad and a hydra, David and Goliath, and Apolla and the Cyclops.
The last act? The disappearing baby. Merdoo entered again, sashaying across the stage.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, for the final trick I will make this baby turn into a bear through the power of the magic box.” Into the magic box I put my little sister, Aloysius, an eighteen-month-old dressed in pink dress. I waived my wand and opened the box. She was gone. (Held carefully - I hoped - backstage by my youthful confederates.)
I shut the box and waved the wand again. A teddy bear appeared. Applause. I shut the cardboard box. I waved my wand and opened the box once more. Baby Aloysius was supposed to appear. She was not there. She had disappeared!
“MOM! Where is Aloysius? I yelled.
Mom had come and put her down for her nap.
How could this end well?
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this ends our show,” announced a flustered Curly in his red coat.
Mother entered, carrying a tray.
“Children, I have made cupcakes and lemonade for you all,” she announced.
The crowd swarmed over the delicacies. Mouths and tummies were full.
Mom saved the show.
After the show we divided up the two dollars and three buttons. It was a good day on Wiley Avenue in Brainerd.
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Doug Daugherty can be reached at dedsr1952@gmail.com