The Circus Clown, Part 1

June 1905

Oklahoma Territory

The clown knew he was being followed. He could hear them jeering behind him; the five men who all were blessed with normal height.

"Hey, shrimpy, why don't you do a little dance?" a voice called. One of them threw peanuts at him. His heart leaped in fear. He tried to hurry away up the dirt path, fences, and tents on either side of him, cordoning off the other performers and exhibits of the traveling circus where he worked.

Johnathan Martin, Jr., had joined the circus's troupe of "little clowns", as they were called, sometimes affectionately, by the other circus workers. At age fifteen, he had joined the circus, knowing it was as good a job as he'd probably ever get. He stopped growing when he reached four feet six inches. His father, always a scoundrel, had wanted to kick him out.

"He's a runt, Margaret," his father said to his mother. "He's no good to us. Can't use him on the farm, can't get a job later; he's too little!" He slammed his glass of beer on the thick, scarred wood of their kitchen table, making Johnathan and his mother jump.

His mother cried. "Please let us keep him, John. He's my only boy," she begged, reaching out to hold her husband's hand, as scarred as the table from heavy farm work, but he pulled away from her.

It was true. Johnathan had four sisters before him, all but one married and gone to live on their own farms. Life was limited in small-town Illinois in 1903 and Johnathon was expected to take over the family farm. That was until at age twelve when he stopped growing.

His mother had placated his father enough that Johnathan stayed, trying his best to help on the farm but mostly getting beaten for chores he was too short to complete. Being taunted by his father taught him to be insensitive to cruel remarks, but it didn't make it any less terrifying when it happened. His mother and sister nursed his wounds and doted on him, but he knew they too worried over who would continue the farm once his abusive father grew old and feeble.

So, when he was fifteen years old, the circus rolled into town one crisp, autumn day. For a week the townsfolk patronized The Greatest Show on Earth. Johnathan was fascinated with the elephants; he had never seen any animals other than the cows, horses, pigs, and chickens they raised. The elephants, big cats, bears, and monkeys held him spellbound in the Big Top performance his mother and sister had taken him to.

And then he saw the clowns. Six of them, pulling antics and making the crowd laugh as they ran and jumped around the arena.

"They're little like me!" Johnathan pointed and exclaimed to his mother and she smiled at him as she ate her popcorn. Two of the clowns looked as old as his father, but they were no taller than Johnathan. His heart sped up. He never knew there were others like him. And an idea formed.

The next day, he risked angering his father and hurried back to the circus. It was pandemonium as they were packing up to leave that very day. The ringmaster took one look at him and heard his request to join and hired him on the spot. Leaning down to shake his hand he asked,

"Is there anyone who's going to come after you if you leave?" His thin hand felt smooth and cool in Johnathan's small, callused one.

"No, Sir," Johnathan lied, looking behind the man's shoulder to the elephants being loaded into a train car. They were trumpeting in agitation. He couldn't know it then, but he would soon learn their noises and become invaluable to calming them down. He had an untapped gift for working with the large animals.

The ringmaster had given him a shrewd look and said,

"Be here at six o'clock sharp tonight, ready to go. I'll let Harold know. He's in charge of you. And make sure trouble doesn't follow you or we'll boot you off the train quicker than you can say circus."

Johnathan nodded and returned home. By some stroke of luck, his family had gone into town for supplies and left a note saying they wouldn't be back until later in the evening.

He did as many of the chores for the animals as he could so his mother and sister wouldn't have to do them, packed a small bag of his meager belongings along with a loaf of bread, some cheese and milk; feeling guilty for taking the small stash of food.

Sadness at breaking his mother's and sister's hearts made him leave a more heartfelt goodbye than the first short note he wrote. He didn't give any details on where he was going, just that they were better off without him and he couldn't be a burden to them any longer.

Taking two candles and putting them in his bag, he shut the door, took one last look at the house and farm and walked back to the circus, apprehensive yet excited for this step he was taking.

Teacake Tidbits - Historical Facts

1. The Circus Came by Rail – And Brought the Town with It

By 1903, traveling circuses like Ringling Brothers, Sells-Floto, and Hagenbeck-Wallace frequently visited the Oklahoma Territory via the railroad expansion. These trains carried hundreds of workers, performers, and exotic animals in specially outfitted railcars. When they arrived, entire towns shut down for the day, children were let out of school, shops closed early, and locals lined the dirt streets to watch the grand parade.

2. Side Shows Were Often Where "Curiosities" Found Employment

The "sideshow" was a central draw in Oklahoma's touring circuses, offering acts like bearded ladies, snake charmers, sword swallowers, and “little people” performers. These acts were often promoted with sensational, exaggerated posters. While exploitative, they also offered a rare livelihood and a sense of community for performers who were marginalized elsewhere.

3. Circuses Were Targets for Moral Reformers

As Oklahoma pushed toward statehood (which would come in 1907), there was rising pressure from churches and women's temperance groups to ban "immoral entertainment." Traveling circuses were sometimes accused of promoting vice, especially if they included fortune-tellers, belly dancers, or saloon-style entertainment. In some towns, circuses had to get special permits or deal with local sheriffs trying to shut them down.

Soul Notes

In the echo of a circus trumpet and the hush of sawdust underfoot, Johnathan found something most boys like him were never promised, a place, however odd, to belong. Among misfits and marvels, he was not too small or too strange. He was simply seen.

The road was rough, and the world beyond the Big Top could be cruel, but the ring offered a rare kind of magic: not just the kind that made elephants dance or acrobats soar but the kind that brought those who were cast out together.

In a world that often looked away, the circus looked him full in the face and said: you are one of us. And perhaps that is the beginning of all becoming: not where you are from, but where you are finally allowed to stay.

Follow along the train tracks for Johnathan's adventures with the circus. Part 2 to come soon!