(The following story by Michael T. Burkhart appeared on the Courier-Post website on April 15.)
CHERRY HILL, N.J. — Kevin Venardos’ dog, Nestor, had to get off the train for a bathroom break.
Somewhere between Trenton and Wilkes-Barre, Pa., the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus train was supposed to stop for water. That’s where Nestor, the Jack Russell terrier, could find a bush to do his business.
But the mile-long train kept rolling, with no sign of stopping.
“Nestor’s legs were crossed and he wasn’t going to wait anymore,” said Venardos, the circus’ ringmaster. “He jumped 20 feet to the ground.”
After a frantic call on the radio, the train ground to a halt so show performers and workers could look for the little dog. A porter on the train spotted Nestor trotting along the tracks, unharmed by his leap.
That excitement two years ago showed Venardos that life on the train is true communal living, where everyone watches out for each other.
“I live and sleep and breathe with the same people I work with,” he said. “It was so impressive.”
After several weeks in New York City, the 134th edition of the Ringling circus arrived in South Philadelphia early Tuesday, hours behind schedule and under the cover of rain and darkness. Performances, at the Wachovia Spectrum, go through April 25, when the show – and train – moves on to Atlantic City.
Shielded by Interstate 95, locomotives placed the cars so equipment could be unloaded Tuesday morning. Originally, the train was going to be unloaded in the rain, but the decision was made to allow everyone time to sleep before getting to work.
Just after 7 a.m. that day, a bus carrying a dozen circus workers arrived at the yard. The rain had stopped and they quickly went to work assembling the aluminum ramps so equipment trailers could be driven off the flat cars.
Four train cars carrying the 11 Asian elephants were farther back in the train yard. At 10 a.m., a bus carrying the handlers arrived and the elephants were marched up 11th Street to the Spectrum.
“I didn’t know what to think when I saw the elephants,” said Sonny Williams, 60, a truck driver from Philadelphia, who came around a corner in the train yard and saw the beasts. “This is the first time in my life I’ve seen something like this.”
Since the 1950s, Ringling Bros. has been the only circus still moving by rail, said Fred Dahlinger, historian at the Circus World Museum in Wisconsin. There is also one carnival, the James E. Strates Shows, that travels in its own 61-car train.
Circuses started experimenting with rail travel in the 1860s. In 1871, P.T. Barnum ran a pair of shows but had trouble covering expenses moving by wagon between small towns.
The next year, his shows traveled by train, stopping only in major cities. He saw rail travel as an opportunity to make more money.
The number of circuses peaked in 1905, when about 100 shows crisscrossed the nation. About one-fourth moved by rail.
“Most of the bigger shows all invested in their own specialized circus trains,” Dahlinger said.
Gene Pettus, Ringling trainmaster, is the man who makes sure the entourage safely gets from city to city. He’s also the one who ordered the train stopped so Nestor could be found.
“I’m the manager of a very long and narrow apartment complex,” said Pettus.
The 58-car Ringling train consists of stock cars for the animals and their caretakers, passenger cars for the performers and flat cars for the wagons that contain everything from the lights to the rigging. Several trucks are also toted along.
“We carry everything we need on the train to do this show,” said Pettus. “It would be impossible to move by truck.”
While a dozen semi-trailers take to the road and arrive before the train, there is no chance the circus will switch totally to trucks, he said. It would be too expensive.
The train carries about 220 people. It also hauls 25 animals, including horses and zdonks – a cross between a zebra and donkey.
Their most recent show, at Madison Square Garden, was at 7:30 p.m. on Easter. After that, the animals and equipment paraded through the Mid-Town Tunnel to Queens, where the train waited in a yard.
“It takes all night,” said Pettus, 59, who lives on the train with his wife, Kathleen. “But it becomes a matter of routine. Logistically, it’s gotten down to a well-oiled machine.”
During World War II, the military studied how Ringling moved, taking notes on how men and machines could be transported quickly over great distances.
Passenger cars on the train are vintage 1960s, many of them built by Pullman. But they have been overhauled and look like new on the inside.
Venardos, the ringmaster, was used to traveling by bus or airplane and living in hotels when he traveled with theater groups. When he joined Ringling, he thought his accommodations would be “a clanky box with a stove in the corner.”
It was anything but.
“I’ve got a satellite TV, a full kitchen and bath,” said Venardos, who grew up in Montvale. “I’ve got everything I need here.”
His home-on-wheels is about 25 feet long and about 10 1/2 feet wide. Like many of the performers, Venardos has added personal touches – parquet wood floors, carpet and track lighting.
“I live here,” he said. “This is my house. I’ve done it up the way I want it.”
For his first two years, Venardos always took the train from city to city. But he bought a Jeep last year, so he sometimes drives between shows.
Before leaving town, Venardos makes a trip to the supermarket to gather what he’ll need on board. He also makes sure to pick up a couple of bottles of wine.
It can take the train anywhere from 24 to 48 hours to get to the next location – sometimes longer depending on the distance and congestion on the railroad. It took six hours to get make the journey from North Jersey to Philadelphia.
“The schedule is dictated by the nature of what’s happening on the railroad at the time,” he said.
He has traveled to remote areas few people have seen. The train often sticks to tracks where no other passenger trains travel.
He’s viewed the interiors of national parks and has seen California’s Feather River Canyon from a high bridge. He has watched from his vestibule as the train winds along cliffs.
“It’s incredibly beautiful,” he said.
Ringling travels in two trains – the Red Unit and Blue Unit – that cross the country with different shows. The 134th edition of the Blue Unit is the one that’s in Philadelphia.
Each unit tours for two years and travels for 11 months out of the year.
Ringling’s train cars are owned by the company. When it travels, the train is pulled by locomotives supplied by the host railroad.
The train is put together with the stock cars at the front, where the ride is smoothest, followed by the passenger coaches, said Pettus. The flat cars carrying the equipment trucks bring up the rear.
“The engineers that pull us are from freight lines,” said Pettus, who retired from the Burlington Northern Santa Fe after 32 years and came out of retirement four years ago to work for Ringling. “Handling a passenger train is a little different. They have to be very careful.”
Performers and workers on the train have mail shipped to post office boxes in Florida. Mail is delivered to the train a few times a week.
Mike Murphy, 35, worked in construction in the Bronx until he got laid off. He found a new life three years ago helping with train operations for the circus.
“You go from city to city and state to state and there’s always something new,” said Murphy. “You see all of the country from coast to coast. I love what I do.”