It started with the loud metallic ring of a hand bell.
A performer with white face paint and swirly, exaggerated eyelashes stood smiling brightly at Lincoln Log Cabin while waving around a bell to fascinate parents and their young children. Small pink circles dotted her cheeks, with a similarly pink heart painted on her lips.
Without speaking, she pointed to a small blackboard sign propped on a tree behind her — the Clockwork Clown was minutes from her first show of the day.
It was just another Saturday for the woman in the puffy teal pants and a pink floral short coat, 41-year-old Emerald Kelley from south central Kentucky, who has been in some form of jester-like dress for the past 20 years.
Fur Trading to Juggling
Kelley first fell in love with historical performing when she was a child. Her grandmother was an interpreter at a historic site in Minnesota, where Kelley grew up watching fur trade reenactors.
By the time she was 18, Kelley said juggling was all the rage among her friends. With a little peer pressure, she started doing it too.
Her first clown trial run was a talent show in Florida with her romantic partner at the time. He didn’t have any traditional clown skills yet, but Kelley said he had the “gift of the gab.”
When the talent show was canceled at the last minute, the two decided to perform streetside, and later that night they would perform for a party.
Her partner began the performance speaking low, hands outstretched like a storyteller, saying: While I was out hunting the dreaded wildebeest of the Swiss alps, I encountered an old German clockmaker who gave me this most peculiar object.
There behind him would be a trunk that contained Kelley, curled up inside — her signature trick. As he opened it, Kelley, moving in stages like a robot, unfolded — needing to be wound up with a fake key before moving.
The two received almost $75 in tips that night in 2005. That’s when Kelley knew she could do this full time.
There, Clockwork Clown and Co. began. The pair stayed together for around eight years before splitting the act.
The Modernized Act
In her solo stage act as the Clockwork Clown, the 4-foot, 10-inch performer plays a mechanical mime in a yellow-lined ring. Scattered around are soft colorful balls to juggle, pins to toss and other oddities.
After juggling, fake ladder climbing and a headstand done on broken glass on Sept. 28 at the Lincoln Log Cabin, Kelley called up a young audience member to be her apprentice: 9-year-old Briella Walters.
The audience, which had grown to more than 30 people, both sat on and stood behind tightly packed hay bales, looking in anticipation. Two mothers quietly hushed their jealous children.
Kelley stepped into her box at the center of the ring and began to fold into it. When the time was right, Briella stepped up on top of the trunk, fully trapping Kelley inside.
She fit in almost perfectly, save for a half inch of fabric peeking out from where her pants got caught. When Briella stepped off, the Clockwork Clown popped out with a massive grin, like a jack in the box.
But it’s Hard to Live this Dream
Kelley can travel about 1,000 miles each week during fall.
Two days before her performance at Harvest Frolic, Kelley performed in Nashville. The next day, she drove seven hours to Indiana, arriving at 1 a.m. before a 9 a.m. show. Afterward, Kelley drove for about four hours for a three-day engagement at Lincoln Log Cabin.
The next day, Kelley was already seven hours north in Minnesota, helping her mom sell fudge and performing for a school group at a historic site.
Just one week was between 800-900 miles of driving — two tank fills, if she’s lucky.
When she’s on the road, Kelley lives out of her car or in a tent. Her contract specifies that space must be available for her to safely car camp alongside where she performs — sometimes as many as five shows in a day.
Her seats fold down to make a bedroll. Behind her, a pile of costumes and fabric sits on one side, and her clown box and camping gear fill the other. Her makeup and an emergency first aid kit are up front along with the paper maps she uses to navigate, since she only brings a flip phone when she travels.
It’s for cost and convenience.
“Sit up in bed, crack open the can of Nos, take ibuprofen if needed and start on hair and makeup in the rearview mirror,” she said.
Historical Influences
Kelley’s clown persona is inspired heavily by what she calls the automaton craze of the 18th century. The period saw creations like a statue that could play the flute and a mechanical duck that could eat grain and “digest” it.
One big inspiration for Kelley is the Mechanical Turk, a late 1700s invention. The robot played chess on its own. To prove it, someone would open the back of the automaton to reveal just gears and metal, Kelley said.
The gimmick was that a chess master would be hidden inside, contorted at the bottom of the machine. Kelley said she would love to build something similar someday.
Kelley’s research was done largely around 2005. Since there wasn’t much information available online, Kelley traveled to college libraries to read journal entries and see art from the time. Bowling Green College Library proved useful to her.
“I do wish that I could do more,” she said. “Some of the entertainers do a really good job of the first-person interpretation.”
She tries to strike the balance between mimicking performers that existed at the time and using her own interpretation of what they could have been doing and wearing.
Her costume is inspired by figures from William Hogarth and Thomas Rowlandson paintings. Her pants, called slops, were made to look like the knee-length cheap pants available in the 18th century. She exaggerated hers to be extra poofy for a more fun look.
Her vest is meant to be a mix between a short gown and a coat. Eventually, when Kelley has the time, the shirt will have cuffs on it too. The striped hat is meant to look like a workman’s hat from the time.
This look is new, all homemade by machine and hand stitched. She said she changes things up when an old look falls apart. That gives her anywhere from five to 10 years in-between outfit changes. A worn look on the outfit gives her more credit as a historical entertainer.
The Money
Finances are a struggle, especially during winter, she said.
Costumes and props break. Gas is expensive. Bills need to be paid. Not to mention food. And in winter, the main income stream dries up. Tips used to pay for her gas money, she said, but they don’t pay like they used to — largely because people don’t carry cash anymore. Her house is paid off, but that doesn’t make it cheap.
Harvest Frolic paid Kelley $1,000 for both days, she said. Her lowest job sits at around $640 for two days, and her highest is around $1,500 for three days.
“My place isn’t fancy, but I pared my expenses down so low that, realistically, bills on paper, [$1,000 is] a month and a half of living through the winter,” she said.
According to Kelley, many historical entertainers don’t discuss pay with each other, so she isn’t sure if her rates are standard for that side of the industry.
President of the World Clown Association Cliff Hartmier, who has been in the organization since 1984, said there isn’t really a standard of pay and that it depends on saturation of the market area and notoriety.
He said some clowns can get up to $150 to $200 an hour for shows depending on how much they have built themselves up.
“Just because we’re clowns doesn’t mean we don’t deserve entertainment level wages,” Hartmier said.
Last year, Kelley had to get a part-time minimum wage job at JoAnn Fabrics to make it through winter. On the bright side, she said the discounted fabric really helped her fill her backlog.
Motherhood on the Road
But the hardest part emotionally for Kelley is having to leave her 2-year-old daughter behind during the busy season.
“[It’s] very difficult to be away,” Kelley said. “We definitely still remember who each other is and have a solid bond, but this tour is three going four weeks, and that’s tough.”
The last time Kelley was home, her daughter came over to her carrying her favorite Squishmallows. She looked at her mom and said with excitement: “juggle!”
“She’s really bright,” Kelley said. “Beautiful, I think, by anyone’s measure. She’s a really cool little person.”
Kelley’s daughter stays with her paternal grandparents when Kelley is on the road. Thinking about her helps Kelley through the tough time.
“Getting that financial cushion built back up in the bank gives a lot more options for her in the future,” she said.
It’s Worth it to Keep the Performance Around
“The number of people getting into the art of clowning is probably going down,” Hartmier said. “It’s not as strong as before.”
At Hartmier’s first WCA convention in 1983, he said there were 400-500 people. But recently, they are getting around 100 people, if not less. He said the number of people joining WCA has also decreased.
He attributed some of the decline to the lack of clowns in mainstream media compared to in the 60s and 70s.
But keeping the art alive is a huge part of the drive for Kelley.
Two weeks ago when she was performing at the Fulton County Historical Society in Rochester, Indiana, Kelley was approached by two kids she had met before.
A brother and sister, 10 and 12, who apprenticed Kelley last year at the same show came running up to her after her show.
Turns out, the kids had continued practicing what Kelley taught them, ranging from juggling to how to capture an audience. They even brought in two of their cousins to form an act, and they had been performing.
Kelley said she’s had many apprentices before, but none were to this level.
“This is the first one I feel like they might actually do it,” she said. “These kids just ooze talent.”
She had the siblings kneel as apprentices for the last time and rise as journeymen, giving them hats to mark their joint achievement.
“That bit there, just passing the juggling torch,” Kelley said. “Yeah. This is why I do this.”
Alli Hausman can be reached at 581-2812 or at athausman@eiu.edu.
