Mrs. Ball & the new neighborhood

In the late thirties my family moved from the Silverlake "flats" to an area where my father had bought a lot and built a house.  All of this was somewhat "miraculous" because the depression was still in place and he seemingly worked 18 hours a day just to keep us in a modest flat with a rented roof over our heads.  But moving was complicated because we had to move and the new place was not ready.

We moved into a rental house across and up the street,   directly behind the people who were to be our across the street neighbors,  Mr. & Mrs. Ball (one of whom was described as "a cop," and it was assumed, of course, that was Mr).   Wrong,  I started watching the comings and goings of Mrs.  and soon feel in love with her.  My reaction was to go into their yard and put the largest rocks I could find in the driveway (not realizing,  of course, that she was a police officer!).

Soon she found me and quickly provided the ample evidences of my affection.  I agreed to remove them forthwith,  and was soon she introduced me to Mr. Ball and her beautiful, sizable collection of glass paperweights and miniture ceramic vases.  During these visits I was also introduced to the  collection of ceramic bowls that had wrapped candies in them, which seemed to me to be left overs from Christmas or trick-or-treat activities.

Then she offered me a job of cleaning up her yard,  and other small chores that came up.  I soon found out she never wore her uniform when she went out,  and that she and Mr. Ball lived very different lives.  The next thing to happen was that they invited me to go with them to a park not far away that had a "lake" (a pond) with rental boats on it.  I was completely surprised when they took the back bench seat and turned the wheel over to me.  MacArthur Park became quickly a place of paradigm shift thanks to this generous couple. 


The next expansion of "the neighborhood"  was their invitation to go to a huge circus in downtown Los Angeles (probably Barnum and Bailey).  We had excellent seats a few rows up in the center of the Main Tent,  and it was within minutes of the performance and the arrival of the classic, tiny clown car that a man stood up down our very row of benches and started loudly berating the clowns (many of whom had exited from the little jalopy and were carrying on in great style.  His story was that "they were not funny,  that they didn't know what they were doing," etc.  

He went down the row and then down the aisle to the ring,  whereupon the clowns came to the edge and began yelling back at him.  Lots of confusion and at some point they grabbed him and pulled in over the edge into the ring.  And then a large white (seemingly bareback) horse came charging around the ring and our neighbor down the row managed to jump up on its back.  Meanwhile the clowns were back in their jalopy and began chasing them.   The bareback, civilian clothes clown was a seasoned horseman and acrobat and the chase became a spectacular very funny event. 

I  have been fascinated with clowns ever since,  seeing amazing acts both in circuses and in other places (for example Las Vegas).  Their antics were always instructive of the ways of humanity,  and some of the literature they have inspired (eg.  Henry Miller's "Smile at the Foot of the Ladder") has stayed with me for years.  Thus "the neighborhood" for laughter and amusement has travelled a long ways from Silverlake in Los Angeles,  to a small circus in Menomonie in which I saw a clown and dog do an amazing version of a show I saw done in Vegas many years earlier, also with a clown and a dog.  Is this a universal act of some kind?  Perhaps I should dial up Google and see if I can find out.