Giraffe Jargo

“Jeezus christ, Webb!” Shorty screamed as the truck careened over the side of the road and into a ditch. The load of poles shifted and caused the old Model T to buck and sway like a bronco.

Webb sprang back to life. He’d closed his eyes for a second, but that was all it took for the truck to head off the road. He cranked the wheel slowly back to the left, shifted down and gave the unwieldy, top heavy rig enough gas to get her back on the road.

“Want to get us killed, kid! That’s a sure way to do it. Good thing we’re not hauling the dogs or ponies. They’d be kickin’ shit about now.”

“Hey, Shorty, Good thing you don’t weigh more or it woulda been all on you. Get it?” Webb grinned sheepishly. 

“Look. I’ve been with a lot of these small time circuses and managed to survive. I don’t want my headstone to read, ‘Shorty – Mighty Midget bought the farm at the bottom of a pile of Big Top tent poles."

“Awe, come on. I was just catchin’ a couple winks. Can’t blame a guy, can you? We work from first light, way past midnight, get only four or five hours sleep a night. How’s anybody s’pose to stay awake under these conditions?”

“You’ll be awake alright when you and your brother are hitchin’ it down the road without a job and probably without pay either. Good ole Honest Bill’s been known to leave roustabouts in the dust, if he doesn’t like somethin’ or somebody. Good thing we’re the last truck or you would be hoofin’ it in short order. Not a pretty thought in the heat of summer in the middle of goddamn nowhere, South Dakota.”

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This is the circus chapter's opening scene (at least for now) in Cat Skinner, A Story of Lust, Love and Loss in the 1930's. I admit, writing this chapter is intimidating. It may be because there is such richness of possibility with the characters, the setting and where I might go with the story line. It's not a case of writer's block, it's a case of obsession with the research!

Last week and this I've spent time contacting a book distributor, publisher and an author to get permission to use a photo of a giraffe jargo. My dad and his brother, Ray, were the two humans in a giraffe suit led around the Big Top by a clown. Since the circus was small, everyone had multiple jobs. Webb and Ray, as roustabouts, also put up the circus, took it down and drove it from town to town the summer of 1925.

So far I've only found dead ends in terms of legally using the photo. But the author did give me other suggestions for where to find other photos. I've started that search today. As a photographer myself, I'm hoping to share the visuals of my dad's story as well as the story. But now it's time to keep writing.