Clown College: The Halls Of Mirth

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"Everyone laughed when I said I wanted to start a clown college," says Irvin Feld. "They told me, 'Clowns are born; you can't teach someone to be a clown." For a person of Feld's temperament, the word "can't" in itself is a potent incentive. But there was a more compelling reason to put his plan into motion: Feld desperately needed clowns.

When Feld acquired Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus in November 1967, it came with 12 clowns, all of whom were over 50. This number was scarcely adequate for one circus, and Feld, even then, wanted to add another unit. Then what of the future? As Feld saw it, there was only one solution. Nine months after he handed over his cashier's check to John Ringling North, Feld opened the doors of Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College in Venice, Fla.

Today the college graduates about 60 new merrymakers a year. During an intensive 10 1/2-week course -- "It's like boot camp," says one alumna -- 31 full-time faculty members, most of them Ringling Bros. clowns, plus specialists from all over the world, give classes on make-up, pantomime, stiltwalking, juggling, and slaps and falls, among other subjects. "It costs us a fortune to run the college," suys Feld. Students fork over about $1,500 for their room and board, but pay nothing for tuition. If, after graduation they are accepted for one of the two circus units, they will serve a three-year apprenticeship starting at less than $200 a week.

Despite hard work and low pay competition for admittance to clown college is stiff. "It's just as hard us Harvard, Yale, or med school to get into," says Peggy Williams, who clowned for nine years before becoming assistant performance director for the Blue Unit. Between 2,500 and 5,000 hopefuls apply every year for the 60 slots.

While clown auditions are held in each town the show plays, these serve largely to introduce prospective applicants to circus life -- and, Feld admits, to generate publicity. Potential students don't even have to audition. What they must do is fill out a modest-looking four-page application, which took at least one graduate six months to complete. It is easy to see why.

"Describe your worst phobia or fear," demands the form. "Name your favorite foods; describe briefly a serious adverse personal situation and how you handled it; list five movies you'd like to see again." It also queries applicants about the last time they cried, the most important lesson they have learned to date, and what being a clown means to them. And that's just for starters.

The application, says Feld, is designed to determine if the candidate has the temperament and dedication to be a professional clown. Reviewed by a committee that includes the deans of the college, and Irvin Feld and his son, Kenneth, the forms give a complete psychological and physical profile of the applicant. Feld should know. He thought up most of the questions himself on the plane ride back to the United States from Rome, after sealing his deal with North. He then ironed out details with the help of Mel Miller, the college's first dean. The form has been only slightly amended with each subsequent dean.

The questions make alot of sense when you think about them, says Feld. For instance, the one about crying: "To be a great clown," he says, "you must be very sensitive. Some people think it's great that they haven't cried in years. But we want people who have felt sadness and know how to convey that to others." Or take the one about fears. Obviously, Feld points out, the circus doesn't want to train a clown who is afraid of animals. After all, he says, "we don't want someone around who will suddenly freeze when they see a bunch of elephants coming down the ramp."

Applicants who answer questions facetiously might just us well forget about their clowning aspirations, at least with Ringling Bros. "There is a difference between being a clown and being a wisecracker," says Feld.

This year marks the 16th anniversary of the college. Rinkling Bros. today has the largest clown alley in its history, and in Feld's estimation, the clowns' performances are better than they have ever been. Naturally he gives much of the credit to the high quality of his college applicants and to the rigor of the screening process. But he warns, "You can't get too analytical about the applications. This is a seat-of-the-pants business. We take a chance on a lot of things. In the final analysis, we're taking a chance on these applicants."