A while back in the fall, I took the book, “Clown,” by Emmet Kelly, with me on a hike. Kelly is the originator of the whole sad-faced hobo clown archetype. And as I sat alongside a rushing Pecos River, I perchance to stumble upon this little gem of a quote on life under the big top:
For this rough work we would change to overalls and we would select a midget to watch our street clothes — left in neat little piles on a spread of canvas in the back yard. Usually the midget was Paul Horompo, and we figured we could trust him with our personal wardrobe because nothing would fit him. Sometimes we put on boots and raincoats and labored in driving rain. It was rough going, but we always managed to move the show and make our towns.
I think the idea that interests me most is that they would ‘select a midget’ as if there were a lineup of little people who they could watch their clothes. Plus, it seems Mr. Horompo was the only little person they could trust, which would lead me to believe that all of the others they could have selected were lying cheats. Except for Sr. Horomopo (awesome name), never trust a little person. (not seriously though).