Railroaders' Nostalgia > RBX 27 - "As the Tent Turns" - a Circus Train Adventure story

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 turned 140 years old in 2010, 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 Conrail’s ‘Geenwich’ 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 mouth-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.
 

# # # # # # #
 
NOTE:  THE ABOVE STORY WAS WRITTEN WHEN THE SHOWS (Red Unit, and Blue Unit) WERE STILL TRAVELING BY RAIL, AND ALSO STILL HAD ANIMALS IN THE PRODUCTIONS.  As for my time on the show beyond 2007, I was there on the last show on May 21, 2017 - and together with Vicky Razzo, LITERALLY closed the final curtain on "The Greatest Show On Earth."  It goes to say, that was a sad night for over 1,000 people who were part of that international cast & crew, spread over two railroad tours and the HQ in Ellenton, Florida.  They've since returned to touring, but with ONE show that moves by highway, and carries NO live animals of any kind.

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                                                     ?
1971:  SOLD to RBBB Circus; UPPER TIER ADDED TO CAR by RBBB
1972-1979: RBX 25  RED UNIT Circus BI-LEVEL
1980-1994: RBX 27  RED UNIT Circus 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 SINGLE-DECK, 89-ft. FLATCAR ~~
 

1997-2017:  RBBX 80708 BLUE UNIT 89-ft. Flatcar    

 Car Body Type:  Carbon Steel
Brake Valve Type:  ABDXL
LAST Recycle Date:  12/30/96

PHOTO CREDIT - photographer unknown, but may have been from the camera of Michael Patrick, taken at Collier Yard, Va. during the 1980's.



Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 01/07/25 15:50 by rbx551985.

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That was a neat story and I really enjoyed reading it - thank you.

You​r story of working on the circus train brought back my one memory of being the engineer on I think it was the blue section Barnum and Bailey train on August 22, 1996.   Me and my conductor Don Berrie were called at 1430 hours at Arkansas City, Ks.(train symbol UTLNW122A) to take the performers cars from there to Newton, Ks. where the would be spotted and then the performers would be bused to Wichita, Ks. to give shows at a colisium there.   I show no tonnage or train length numbers in my time book, but I know it was a track full so had to be around 5000 ft. long.   I had units ATSF 5180 and ATSF 839 for power.
       As soon as we got to the head of the train that day, the circus trainmaster was sitting on the bottom step of the 5180 and was agitated.   The train was already late and had to get to Newton and be spotted ASAP.  My conductor took off releasing handbrakes and I went to inspect my two locomotives.   I found that the 838 was out of fuel, and that the 5180 (the lead unit) was just above the emptry mark but still running.  I explained the situation to him and he said lets go as is and hope we make it.  He gave me a colorful little pamphlet about the equipment which explained that the brake valves were standard freight types and not for passenger trains which was helpful.  
     We were able to depart Arkansas city at 1505 hours headed up the hill with one unit.  The tonnage must not have been bad because the single sd40-2 did alright moving the train at nearly 55 mph most of the time and our trip to Newton shows us arriving at 1915 hours so about 4 hours travel time.  But, along the way, while passing through Wichita, Ks., the DS informed us that Wichita was under a tornado warning.   The conductor and I made a judgement call that no clouds in our way looked too bad, so we kept going with no incident.
        I spotted the train in the old coach yards with Conductor Berrie and the superintendent Burgess was there helping too.   I think we split the train into 3 different tracks in front of the office building in Newton.  I show tying up at 2030, so it did't take too long for the work.  
     The next day, I was called to the Supt.s office and given 5 free tickets to the circus...it was the greatest show on earth for me that day for sure!



Edited 4 time(s). Last edit at 01/13/25 15:23 by atsfer.

I'm not sure if it was 1985 ot 1986, but when the RBBB train stopped in Barstow I was able to view the Uincorn.

OliveHeights Wrote:
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> I'm not sure if it was 1985 ot 1986, but when the
> RBBB train stopped in Barstow I was able to view
> the Uincorn.

That was 1985, and I was there - seen on the Pentrex video of that run wearing a yellow T-shirt.  Later that year I was asked to help the lady who groomed that animal - to hold its head still while she brushed its fur, as it tended to move around a lot.  But the creature ended up hating me:  who wants to have their horn HELD IN PLACE wihle they want to look around?  Soon, I found it spotting me during set up day, and then prouncing around and shaking its horn at me in definance.

Those were some crazy days in RBBB Circus.

Yes, that story is FOR REAL.  I coundn't make that up if I tried.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 01/07/25 23:44 by rbx551985.

Great story. The unicorn had a protective sheath over the horn for travel, so I never saw the actual horn. I was with Pentrex on that day. What a coincidence.

WOW!!!  What a story!!!

In, about,1967 when I was working as a switchman on the CB&Q in St. Paul (Daytons Bluff) we had one of the RBBB trains come thru.

For several days we'd been accumulating an unusually high number of hobos in the yard.  Few panhandling a bit, but most not talking to us rails at all.  Sleeping anywhere they felt like it - even between tracks on the ladder!  We'd give 'em a nudge and ask them to maybe please move somewhere else safer for all concerned, like behind the yard office parking, or under the water tank.  They'd always oblige without objection.  They would seldom actually talk to us, but would acquiesce to our requests, without speaking.  Generally, the railroaders regarded them as "there but the grace of God..."

The train came thru late night/early morning into the eastbound yard, for a crew change.

The people on the train were far more willing to be cordial.  They already had jobs!  They'd come to the windows and doorways to chat.

When the train left - all of the vagrants/hobos/whatever were gone.  Did any or all get jobs?  I don't know

An interesting lot of people.  And memorable.

-LD

Your story is worth the cost of Trainorders for the year, THANKS!

And good for you for taking your lumps!

Fritz in MD

I got sprayed by a tiger at a Big Cat Reserve in Jacksonville, Florida.  The person was giving her talk about the cats, and I went and made a smart remark.  I forgot what I said.  But the person giving the chat whistled or did something because I saw the tiger casually turning and aiming his rear end at me.  He hit me from 10 feet away.  

steve4031 Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> I got sprayed by a tiger at a Big Cat Reserve in
> Jacksonville, Florida.  The person was giving her
> talk about the cats, and I went and made a smart
> remark.  I forgot what I said.  But the person
> giving the chat whistled or did something because
> I saw the tiger casually turning and aiming his
> rear end at me.  He hit me from 10 feet away.  

And people say you can't train a cat!