Railroaders' Nostalgia > The Not-So-Greatest Show On Earth

I heard this story about a year ago from a friend who has worked on the railroad for many years, both passenger and freight.

Years ago, he was working as a freight conductor and was called to work the Ringling Bros - Barnum & Bailey Circus train. The circus had completed its performances in San Diego and was ready to move on to the next city on its tour. As they were assembling the train at the staging yard, it was necessary for them to make a double-over, since the train was so long. Since it was about three o'clock in the morning, it really wasn't a problem if they had some grade crossings blocked for a bit. He said it was that kind of spooky time of the morning where everything is real quiet as ninety-nine percent of the city is asleep.

As the two sections of the trains coupled during the double-over, he then went between the cars to lace the air hose. He said as he was squatting down between the cars during this maneuver, there were several times where he felt a whiff of air sweeping past his ear. He couldn't figure out what was causing this. Finally, he turned around to see what the source was and, to his shock and horror, he saw a huge tiger leaning out of its cage on the flat car!

The tiger had been taking repeated swipes at this guy with his extended paw, but the conductor was safely in the clear of those swipes --- by about a quarter of an inch!

CA_Sou_MA_Agent Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Finally, he turned around
> to see what the source was and, to his shock and
> horror, he saw a huge tiger leaning out of its
> cage on the flat car!

With the exception of the elephants, I believe all of the animals are transported by trucks. Even if the tigars were on the train, they wouldn't be in a cage on a flat car out in the elements. They would be protected inside a car like the elephants are.

sgerken Wrote:

> With the exception of the elephants, I believe all
> of the animals are transported by trucks. Even if
> the tigars were on the train, they wouldn't be in
> a cage on a flat car out in the elements. They
> would be protected inside a car like the elephants
> are.

When I saw the train years ago, they were using some modified bi-level auto carriers and the animal containment areas were on the lower level, toward the end of the cars. This might have been what he encountered.

I believe, as you say, most of the animals are transported by trucks for short hauls, but then the trucks are loaded onto flatcars for the long hauls.

The elephants, as you say, are transported in fully enclosed cars similar to baggage cars.

They may have made some modifications to their operations over the years. The event is San Diego was at least twenty-five years ago.

Of course the elephants are transported in modified baggage cars--they always want to be with their trunks.

DNRY122 Wrote:
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> Of course the elephants are transported in
> modified baggage cars--they always want to be with
> their trunks.

And the lawyer for RB-B&B may have mis-located his trunk, but he's never lost a case.

sgerken Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> CA_Sou_MA_Agent Wrote:
> --------------------------------------------------
> -----
> > Finally, he turned around
> > to see what the source was and, to his shock
> and
> > horror, he saw a huge tiger leaning out of its
> > cage on the flat car!
>
> With the exception of the elephants, I believe all
> of the animals are transported by trucks. Even if
> the tigars were on the train, they wouldn't be in
> a cage on a flat car out in the elements. They
> would be protected inside a car like the elephants
> are.

"sgerken", you are correct -- nowadays. Up until the early 1990s, the show carried the Big Cats in their "transfer cages" inside the bilevel flatcars (on either show's train). During the mid-to-late 1990's the show developed NEW wagons which had fold-out sections (much like those R.V. extensions they have in the more expensive versions of those vehicles), which provided LOTS of room for the Cats to walk around and excercise backstage at the arenas we played. Currently, the Cat-trainers on the shows prefer to haul their Cats overland in special trailers instead of moving them on the trains, however thay may change soon as the show does indeed prefer to keep everything together. That's not official by any means, but it's being discussed: returning the Big Cats to the trains for future Editions.

HERE is the story of what happened to me on my FIRST ADVENTURE loading the Red Unit's old Bilevel flatcar, former RBX 27, way back during June 1985 in Philadelphia, Pa. It's a hoot, and provides an "insiders" look at what is described above in this thread's original posting -- with the difference being my experience of being swiped at was FROM INSIDE THE CAR, not down below the couplers lacing up airhoses, LOL! Enjoy....
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RBX 27:
AS THE TENT TURNS

There is a lighter side to life on a Railroad Show, particularly with “The Biggest of the Big Shows,” as it was once termed by movie director – and Circus fan – Cecil B. DeMille. Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey (RBBB), which will turn 140 years old as of 2010, now travels as three distinctive performances: Red Unit, Blue Unit, and Gold Unit. Red and Blue are the two giant, three-ring rail tours, each with its own MILE LONG “mixed” train [mixed being a railroad term meaning a train consist “mixed” with both passenger and freight cars]. They are the two single, longest “passenger” trains on Earth. Gold Unit is the smaller, one-ring truck show, traveling to cities and/or venues that are deemed a smaller audience market or that the two larger tours with their two, mile long trains, simply can literally no longer fit in. Red Unit takes all RBBB odd-numbered Circus editions on a two-year tour, beginning each odd-numbered year. Blue Unit takes all RBBB even-numbered Circus editions on the same two-year tour, but beginning each even-numbered year. The edition numbers are measured from P.T. Barnum’s first official tour – in 1871. (That will make the show’s 500th Special Anniversary Edition occur in the year 2370.)

I have worked for both the Red and Blue Units (1985-1991 on Red; early 1992 and early 1996 on Blue, a short stint on Red in April 1996, and again on Red in early 2007 – in various jobs). Because I have been on both the Red and Blue tours, I am thus referred to in Circus parlance as “one of the Purple People,” often calling it “…the toughest job I ever loved” (taken from an old Peace Corps slogan). That means that no matter how grueling the job got, I was still inspired by the show’s international cast and crew to continually learn and grow, all the while trying to better myself and enjoy the ride along the way – on rails.

I originally “joined out” with the show in Richmond, Virginia during early 1985, at the ripe old age of 25 – fresh out of ‘Corn County’ with little or no street-smarts, at least not that would have prepared me for the (rail-) road ahead. But I learn quickly, and have a lot of God-given patience with my life’s circumstances. To put it another way, I am slow to quit. My first job with the show was with the Train [Maintenance] Crew, and I can honestly say that I had no idea what this life had in store.

In mid-June of 1985, we were just finishing up the two-week stand of the show’s 115th Edition (informally dubbed “The Unicorn Show”) at the Philadelphia Spectrum. A very unique animal – yes, with just ONE horn – was the show’s center-piece during “Spec” (or, Spectacle), just before intermission of the two-and-a-half hour long performance. (Later during the season, I would have an additional, unique job: hold the horn of the beast when its handler, dancer Heather Harris, groomed it – and discovered the meaning of the phrase “Never hold the horns – or horn – of a goat and expect it to like you….” It didn’t like that at all, bucking around wildly each time it was brought into the arena for exercise and saw me. Oh, well – sometimes you get the goat, and sometimes the goat gets you!)

This prior Sunday evening of June 1985 in Philadelphia, however, would bring an experience unlike any I was prepared for. This town’s closing-day Load-Out would not only shake loose my “rosy world” of naïve youth, but would by sheer dumb luck, the developed patience of a railfan, or Divine Providence (take your pick) enable me to survive almost any event that life would thrust upon me, bringing a perceived satisfaction that I was alive to see it happen. I was about to life out Ethel Barrymore’s quotable quote, “You grow up the day you have the first real laugh at yourself.”

The final performance at the Spectrum was half over, and wagons full of equipment were already being sent to the Conrail freight yard for loading on the flatcars for the long jump to the next stand that year, Oklahoma City. Hooked behind the red-painted Clark jeeps, the wagons were being lined up in the “Okie-City” unloading order. But before loading them, the last car down the cut of flatcars – Bi-level RBX 27 – first had to be loaded with cages containing the Big Cats. (The show’s Staff vehicles were already loaded on the car’s upper tier.) Circus Trainmaster Tim Holan, my first show-boss and the man who initially hired me out in Virginia, was supervising the wagon arrangement on the street leading into the yard, having pre-planned the exact loading order during the previous week, logistically based on the unloading tracks and wagon-loads needed at the next venue in Oklahoma City.

The Tiger act finished off the first half of the 115th Edition, and then they came to us in strings of six cages, trailing each Clark jeep. (This was when the show’s Big Cats used to travel aboard the train in what are now called Transfer Cages.) Rolling from street level up onto the runs (ramps), they then clanged and banged their way over and down the cut of nine flatcars toward the Bi-level. The show’s Train Crew used moth-blown whistles to get everything loaded properly: just like railroad whistle or air-horn signals, one ‘bleep’ meant “Stop,” two ‘bleeps’ meant “Proceed,” and three ‘bleeps’ meant “Reverse Move.”

Each string of six cages came aboard the first flatcar, to be joined with the other, shorter strings into a single, long cut – of loaded cat cages. As they approached the entrance to RBX 27, the Clark jeep pulling them was unhitched and spotted over to one side out of the way, leaving enough space to hand-push/pull each individual cage into close proximity against the one preceding it, inside the car’s lower tier. The object was to end up with two, parallel rows of cages with a narrow passage between them.

One cat, a black leopard named “Blackie,” didn’t care for the move behind of in front of a “First-Of-May” employee like myself, and would likely have loved to have eaten my leather jacket at the first opportunity – while I was still wearing it! Blackie actually did make such an attempt inside the Bi-level, cut short only by the sheet of plywood that another, more experienced crewman had surreptitiously placed there moments before I stooped beside the cage to swing around its tongue (hauling bar) underneath the cage for storage during the duration of the pending train-run.

I asked the guy what the plywood sheet was for; he only grinned, continuing on with other tasks. A few beats later, my heart beat shot into overdrive as I felt something tugging my jacket upward, and nearly had a real heart attack when that black, wide-eyed cat howled a scream that made my flesh crawl! (It was after that incident that I volunteered for outside duty around the Bi-level. As I informed Trainmaster Holan, “I get claustrophobic in tight quarters, like the narrow passage on the Bi-level between the cat cages … besides the fact that I’m allergic to leopard howls – and to claws attempting to rip holes in my leather jacket.” But Tim wisely chose to keep me on full duty both outside AND in, where I would quickly become more mindful of my employment surroundings. Hmmm…. it’s a proven fact that we learn by doing.)

That crewman remarked that I should have had more common sense than to get so close to a dangerous animal. Right. Not that it was my job, or anything. I mean, I was in shock! And definitely not amused, but I went on with the job of securing the cages for train-movement. Besides, he was right to relate what he knew must be said for all new Ringling Bros.’ crewmembers: SAFETY FIRST. Again, just like the railroad industry on which this show exists, it’s Job One.

At that point in history, the show had 115 years of experience dealing with the issue. And what was my point of view? The Big Cats were presumably aware by now that, three months into my Circus service, I was no longer “an intruder” on their turf – or so I was inclined to believe. That notion was about to change shortly, and rather abruptly, proving how frighteningly little I knew about animal behavior.

It was hot, and rain showers had been forecast in the greater Philadelphia area for most of this June 1985 Sunday afternoon and evening. There were heavy clouds overhead, but toward the setting sun the sky was clear, and glowing, orange rays of sunlight poured through the Bi-level’s opened sides, providing a safe, and more-than-adequate, natural light source. In the distance, milky-looking rain clouds could be seen dousing other parts of the city, and I wondered if the wind might just decide to carry it over us. (I suddenly had visions of working in a downpour, soaked to the bone. This was easy to visualize, since we were in short supply of yellow rain-slickers for everyone on the crew. In addition, since I was still quite close to the bottom of the seniority totem pole, the chance of me getting a rain-slicker was remote at best. So, on I worked, and kept wondering which demise might claim me first - melting from falling rain like the Wicked Witch of the West, or becoming tiger-fodder in a swinging claw.)

It was about this time, as I was hunched down behind one cat cage, that had just been shoved up against the one preceding it, that I began to feel what evidently were rain drops entering the opened sides of the Bi-level. A moment of uncertainty overcame me as I pondered whether my fate, my perceived ultimate, untimely demise, was indeed sealed and that I was to melt in a downpour of rain. However unrealistic that may have been was irrelevant. This was my first experience helping to hand-load the Bi-level, so it should come as no surprise to anyone that I had much to learn, at the time, about Circus life.

At that moment I noticed the other crewmen had huddled toward the opposite side of the car – away from me, the cage I was shoving, and the falling rain. My instinct was to ask for help in this arduous task, (I was less than muscular), and to tease the guys about “…letting a little rain hurt them.” That was when I noticed their wincing looks, especially from friend and fellow Circus Train-crewman, Chris Oborn. What I had failed to comprehend, from utter lack of experience, was that my fellow crewmates weren’t the ones who were relieved. Allow me to elaborate.

With concern on my mind about getting drenched (--and melting--) in some sudden rainstorm, as well as just having gotten over the shock of having been swiped at by a seemingly crazed black leopard, I was in no mood for mind-games. And this rain falling on me was hot, no doubt affected by the setting, summer sun. Then a little voice at the back of my brain was trying to tell me something, and I found myself following the gaze of the others around to the cage I was stooped behind. I glanced up, and another plop of hot rain splattered against my forehead. So where was the rain coming fro---- OH MY GOD: a Bengal tiger had raised its tail and was marking its territory – and I was in the way!

With another splat right between my eyes, I dove for cover across the car, to the hearty round of laughter from the crewmen huddled in the far corner. Feigning a recovered composure, I sat up, dumbstruck, wiping the hot, disgusting “rain” from my face, and looked up at my boss. Mike Adcock, Red show’s Assistant Trainmaster and former Conrail track-maintenance employee from the Midwest, looked at me, put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry – it’s happened to all of us.” After a beat came a most remarkable statement that would change my life forever: “Hey, you’re one of The Family now!”

Still stunned at what had just happened to me, all I could do was look at him as if to say, Oh, thanks a lump. But I didn’t say anything. A brief pause followed, as if everyone there were holding their collective breath, probably expecting me to shove Mike right off the side of the Bi-level. What I did, instead, surprised not only them, but myself as well.

I began to laugh. I honestly began to laugh!

The laughter grew until everyone present was bent over in hysterics! I will admit that this was the first time I can recall that I was truly amazed that something I did wasn’t quite right, and the emotional release felt good. Then came a tremendous, personal revelation: I can deal with this! I laughed some more. Mike dismissed me – temporarily – to allow a quick return to my home aboard coach RBX 55 (nicknamed the “Double Nickel” by the car’s residents) to clean up. Nodding in enthusiastic agreement, I rose and slid off the side of the car, making short work of the sprint across the rail yard’s gravel driveway to 55-Car. The crunching noise of the rock ballast beneath my feet heightened the anticipation of feeling rich, lathering soap and clean, warm water (---real water---), rinsing away not just the “rain,” but the humiliation as well. The fading sound of tigers crying out from inside RBX 27 behind me complimented the emotions that I was only now beginning to comprehend.

I used what I thought was nearly half a bar of soap, to even more laughter from Porters aboard RBX 55 who had quickly gotten word, via radio, about what had just transpired aboard the Bi-level. (Word travels fast around the Circus. “As The Tent Turns” is sometimes how the show’s soap-opera-like lifestyle is referred to on the Ringling shows.) Paul Eroe, the show’s Train Waterman (and TRAINS Magazine subscriber) came bursting in to the car’s lavatory area while I washed up, flustered and complaining that I was using up the car’s water supply for the train-run to Oklahoma – until he was told why. And he laughed too, before returning outside to replenish what water I’d used.

Word about my wet, little adventure spread like wildfire within hours, and I believe it was at that point that everyone on the show decided I was there to stay, even after this, and began to truly consider me as one of The Circus Family. (I knew for certain that the Circus Train Crew did!)

I had lived through an embarrassing incident and came through it unscathed. Well, more or less. Afterwards, countless new crewmen endured the same ordeal, and many of them didn’t appear to take it as well. Those who are long-lived on The Big Show learn quickly to get out of harm’s way when a Big Cat lifts its tail: they can spray up to thirty feet. And when one does, rest assured that this Ringling’ veteran will be well out of range, laughing about a former “First-Of-May” employee who wanted to leave his ties behind, live Integrity itself, and find out just where all those railroads led the trains as they left town. It was – and still is – a journey of discovering the joy of accomplishment, as it’s often called, and I can brag that we didn’t live on the wrong side of the tracks: We lived ON the tracks! That’s an entirely different reality, and one I will cherish for a life-time. I spent more than five years aboard that amazing Railroad Show to find out where those rails led, and discovered that they led to me.

As for Big Cats and RBX 27, fancy wagons have replaced the transfer cages during jumps between cities. I no longer ride the Ringling’ rails, having left for life’s further Callings.

But another Bi-level is still there.*

And so are the Cats.

# # # # # # #

Written by Rhett Coates

*Now, both trains' bilevels have been cut down to standard 89-ft. flats; there are no more bilevels on either Ringling' show's train.

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POSTSCRIPT:

As of the 21st Century, The Greatest Show On Earth has five-digit numbers with “RBBX” reporting marks on its rail equipment, and the former “RBX” two- or three-digit reporting marks on both Ringling’ trains have become coach-car “House Numbers,” allowing personnel to find their rail-car homes each night when returning from work. Red Unit’s former Bi-level RBX 27, on which the above story took place, was renumbered “RBBX 80708” in 1995, and during 1996, was converted back into its original configuration for use as a single-deck flatcar in 1996. It was replaced by a former Southern Pacific Railroad Bi-level that was “kit-bashed” – adapted, or recycled – for Circus use through Amtrak’s Penn Station tunnel under Manhattan, the “Ruling Clearance” for both RBBB trains in North America. Big Cats traveling with Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey now go overland instead of on the train, as their personal trainers prefer to keep them close by during jumps between towns – and can respond faster to any extra needs if necessary.

The History/Heritage of RBBX 80708, former “RBX 27”

RBBX 80708
Original Reporting Marks: SHPX 99503
Built in 1967 by ACF (American Car & Foundry) –- as an 89-foot flatcar

Ringling Bros.’ ownership data: Acquired from [Shippers Car Line Co.] in 1971.

1967-1971: SHPX 99503 Piggyback Flatcar
1971: SOLD to RBBB Circus (UPPER TIER ADDED TO CAR by Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Combined Shows)

1972-1979: RBX 25 ... RED UNIT ... BI-LEVEL
1980-1994: RBX 27 ... RED UNIT ... BI-LEVEL
1995: RBBX 80708 ... RED UNIT ... BI-LEVEL
1996: RBBX 80708 ... PALMETTO Shops ... RECYCLE

~~ During this recycle, the upper tier was removed, making this a standard, 89-ft. FLATCAR ~~

1997-2012: RBBX 80708 ... BLUE UNIT ... 89-ft. FLATCAR

Car Body Type: Carbon Steel
Brake Valve Type: ABDXL
LAST Recycle Date [as of 2008]: 12/30/96

I walked in at the UP yard in Denver one day to see the cars that had just been brought to town, and stopped right in front of the cats. Not sure how high I jumped as I was right next to them, but somewhere I have a slide of the cats in their car. No scanner.