Ralph Helfer (24 page)

“A
LWAYS WALK IN THE VALLEY OF LIFE
. The mountains on either side are rugged and steep. The chasm below treacherous!” Kalli Gooma’s teaching was always with Bram. And he heeded it well. Bram walked in the valley. He had no desire to compete in a world of one-upmanship. There would be enough yang as it was, and he felt better prepared to handle it on familiar territory.

As the years passed, the trailer was exchanged for a larger one, much to Mr. North’s chagrin, and a pickup truck was purchased to haul special food for Modoc, leather gear that needed repair, things for the house. Each winter and summer brought the same routine and reputation. The circus would quarter in Florida during the winter and play the performance dates all summer long.

Sometimes a letter would come from the Indian village. The mahouts would gather and write a letter together. They would speak of the elephants, the teak, and always mention Sian’s family.

“They pray for you in the temple every Sunday and hope you are well.”

Sometimes Sian’s parents would write. Gertie could always tell the difference in the handwriting. Ja would usually do the writing for the family. He spoke often of the pain the village still carried. So many had died, the families had come together to help and support one another.

“We have put a monument at the lake where you and Sian first met. We think you would both like that.” The letter went on:

“I think that’s sweet of them, Bram. To build such a monument,” Gertie said after he finished telling her.

“That was such a long time ago,” he said sadly.

“Do you miss them very much?”

“Oh, from time to time, I think about them all and what happened, but it’s in the past now and the past gives us our strength, so to be sad about gaining strength is not very wise, is it?” he asked, putting the letter aside.

“You make things sound so…I don’t know…connected. It’s a nice way to look at life.”

“It is all connected, dear. Each moment connects to the next and it is through time we move in our lives. All is as it should be—to help us grow and become who and what we are.”

“And Modoc…?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Ah, Modoc…well, she is…Modoc.”

The elephants had just finished their grand entry when it happened. A curl of smoke was seen rising from the entranceway.

At first nobody bothered about it, figuring someone nearby would take care of it. Nobody did. The smoke drifted through the tent, forming a thin line that could be seen high above the arena.

“
Fire!
” someone finally yelled. People in the stands rose and looked about, trying to see where it was coming from.

“Now don’t panic, I’m sure it’s nothing,” said a spectator.

Suddenly a voice from the loudspeaker boomed, “Attention, please. Would everyone please move to far exit of the tent. Attention, please. Please move in a calm and orderly fashion. There is a small fire near the entranceway. For your safety, and the safety of the animals, please move to the far exit of the tent. Thank you.”

“There’s a fire!”

“Where?”

“Near the entrance!”

“No, he said the exit!”

The smoke, now having thickened, had become a dense gray fog throughout the tent. People became disoriented.

“Which way is the exit?”

“Over here!” someone yelled.

“No, you idiot, you’re telling people the wrong way! It’s this way!”

“I can’t see!”

The panic began. Slowly at first, then building into a frenzy. People started screaming, coughing! The smoke by now was thick and dark.

Bram and Curpo had just finished buckling the blanket and headpiece on Mo when the fire started. They were on their way out the backstage exit when Bram heard the people screaming. He looked at Curpo.

“Ya go on ahead, I’ll finish ’ere.”

A nod of okay and he was gone. “Come on, Mo!”

Bram headed for the exit area. It was much worse than he had
imagined. People were crowding, pushing, fighting to get through. Many were falling down.

Bram yelled, “Follow the elephant!
Follow the elephant
! She knows the way! Hold on to the blanket, even her tail.”

“Please take my children!” begged a woman, followed by others. He lifted them up to Mo’s back. All huddled together.

“Hurry, hurry!”

A dozen more children scrambled up on Mo’s back. As she started to the exit, the billowing smoke made breathing impossible.

“Hold your breath as long as you can!” Bram yelled for all to hear. “Move up, Mo. Move! Move!”

Going by instinct to where the open flaps were, she carefully moved forward. People hung on to her from all sides as she headed into the smoke. In the thick of it, some dropped at her side, unable to continue, and others quickly took their places. Like a locomotive coming out of a tunnel, she emerged from the smoke out into the fresh air. Mo staggered and fell in the open lot. She was burning!

The people fell to the ground coughing, choking, some vomiting, others lying still. Mo was wheezing and gagging, shaking her head trying to get rid of the smoke in her lungs. She blew air and smoke out of her trunk. Bram was on his knees coughing and choking as were the others. He staggered to his feet. People were running to help get the children off, carrying them away from the cloud of smoke coming from the tent.

Bram managed to find a hose and turned it on, spraying Mo first, then drenching himself with the water.

“Bram, Bram! Where are you?” He heard Gertie calling his name but his throat had been so ravaged by the smoke, he could barely whisper.

“Here! Here!”

When Gertie reached him she barely recognized him. He was covered in a blanket of thick black smoke. The water spray and soot had covered him and Mo with black ooze, dripping like mud.

“Where’s Curpo?” Bram asked, thinking his friend had escaped into the safe night air.

“I don’t know! I haven’t seen him. Wasn’t he with you backstage?”

“He’s still there! Oh my God!”

Bram ran to Modoc. He knew he could never fight the hysterical crowd pouring out of the tent. But Mo could. He had to get back in to find Curpo!

“Get up, Mo!”

Modoc slowly raised herself, her eyes tearing from the smoke. Bram was up on her in a flash.

“Gertie, hand me that tarp lying over there! When I put it over us, soak it down!”

Gertie handed it up to Bram, who spread it out over himself and Mo.

“Now! Gertie, NOW!”

She blasted the water stream over them till they were soaking wet. Bram headed Mo back into the tent. She never hesitated. Straight in they went. Once inside the big top, Bram could see the smoke had curled upward, giving a slight clearing in the smoke. Fire was racing up the canvas sides of the big tent, the bleachers were afire. He could feel the heat on his face. People ran by, coughing, gasping for air. Mo occasionally raised her foot to step over a body. When they arrived at the spot where they had left Curpo, Bram dismounted so he could see closer to the ground. He held Mo’s ear, leading her through the smoke, trying to calm her as the searing heat and thick black smoke pressed heavy against them both. Visibility was becoming harder and harder. His eyes were tearing and he kept wiping them so he could scan the area.

“Curpo!” he cried, his voice so harsh it hurt. “Curpo, where are you?” He hoped to hear his friend’s voice holler back, “Bram, over ’ere,” helping the two find each other.

Nothing. He called again and again until his voice was just above a whisper. All around him he could hear people crying in fear, and in the distance he could hear the sounds of terrified animals—the big cats roaring, the horses whinnying, and trainers’ voices trying to calm them and get them out of the fire line.

Bram’s lungs were giving out. Mo was gasping for air. They made it to the backstage area when Bram went down. Modoc stood for a moment, then picked him up. He fell again, and again she picked him up. The movement brought him around long enough to see that Mo had found Curpo! She had him in her trunk, carrying him low to the ground where there was less smoke. She herself was staggering but got back to Bram. She gave him a leg up. He grabbed the blanket and by sheer willpower, inched his way to the top.

“Move, Mosie, Movvvve…”

Bram passed out on her back, clutching the blanket with a death grip.

Suddenly there was a loud explosion at the exit! The fire had found its oxygen when people raised the flaps trying to escape. The oxygen coming in from the outside fueled the smoke—and what had been a tunnel of smoke was now a wall of fire! Anyone who had been in there when it happened had met with instant death.

Modoc saw the wall of flame. She never faltered. She hit it with a vengeance. She screamed an agonizing, roaring trumpet…and raced full tilt into and through the raging inferno! The flames set the blanket on fire. Bram also was afire, as was Mo as she cleared the tent and fell twenty yards outside it.

People came from everywhere, grabbing Bram and Curpo out of the flames. Buckets of water were thrown on them, water hoses doused the flames, blankets were brought to snuff out the fire on Modoc’s burning flesh!

Fire engines had arrived, police, ambulances all converged on the scene all racing, hoping to save as many as possible.

Gertie, who had been called to help with the horses, suddenly appeared. Her face was covered in soot and her dress was torn where she had ripped it to make blinders to cover the horses’ eyes to guide them out of the danger areas. She raced to Bram, kneeling by his side.

“Bram! Bram, honey! Please. Please.” She was holding him, rocking him like a child. He lay still. A fireman pulled her away. “Let me get him some air.” He clamped an oxygen mask over
Bram’s face and felt his pulse. “It’s steady” he said as Gertie closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath of relief. “He should be all right, ma’am. Just let him breathe easy.”

“What about…?” She couldn’t finish as she eyed their little friend lying next to Bram.

Curpo hadn’t moved. An oxygen mask covered his face as well. There was no sign of life. The fireman tried to find a pulse. Nothing.

Gertie turned her head away, unable to comprehend what was happening, and saw Mo lying as though dead. She had crashed headlong into the ground. Her head, tusks, and trunks were buried into the thick mud the water had created. The stench from her burning skin permeated the area. Gertie’s knees almost gave way but she heard a familiar voice, calling.

“Gertie? Don’t worry! I’ll handle it!” The commanding voice was Kelly’s. He turned to the watching crowd and pointed to several men. “You, pull her head up, and you, get that air hose from the oxygen unit over here!” he ordered.

Ten volunteers instantly helped to lift Mo’s head so her breathing was unhampered. The air hose was run down her throat. Smoke was still coming from her mouth.

Kelly formed a line of men in unison to push on her belly to get the smoke out and some air in. He didn’t know if it would help but he had to try! After what seemed like an eternity, Modoc started to cough. She tried to stand.

“Help her!” Kelly cried, and ordered the men about Modoc. “This way!” As he had seen Bram do on occasion, he now did to help Mo stand. In a few minutes she was on her legs. Shaken, but upright. She slowly moved to Bram and caressed him with her trunk. Gertie patted her neck and gave her a kiss.

“Oh, Modoc,” she cried.

Curpo never regained consciousness. He had swallowed so much smoke that his little lungs collapsed. His small body was covered and put in the waiting ambulance. It didn’t turn on the siren.

Bram opened his eyes. He saw Gertie’s expression and the
tears streaming down her face. He removed the mask from his face and was almost afraid to voice the question.

“Curpo? Modoc?” he whispered, his throat still raw.

She knelt beside him and took his hand, her voice choking. “Bram, my love, Modoc’s fine…but…” Her eyes drifted off to the departing ambulance. She shook her head in grief and loss.

Bram looked away from his wife. The tears filled his eyes.

Curpo was dead.

B
RAM NEVER DID GET OVER
C
URPO’S DEATH
. He blamed himself for not being there. He should have stayed or…something! Curpo had brought so much love and understanding into his life. He was his brother in life, a companion who was there to listen, to help, and above all, to share his pain and happiness. These thoughts made him realize how very little he knew about Curpo.

Yes, he knew where he was born, his parents’ names, all that primary information, but what about his feelings about being small? They had never talked about it, or about his never marrying. Maybe because they talked only about Bram’s problems.

No one ever filled Curpo’s place alongside Bram. He did everything by himself. Sometimes when Gertie or Kelly wasn’t busy, he would let them feed or clean, but no one else.

After the big top fire the circus closed down. For two years it battled the legal system. Dozens of people, including children, had
perished. The lawsuits nearly broke Mr. North but his bulldog attitude kept him fighting to reopen the circus. It was said that he hurt many families by fighting them in court. He had the wherewithal to hire big-shot attorneys, and many cases were won unfairly. Hospital bills that he should have paid were left to the poor people who patronized the circus on that fateful day. Some went bankrupt, others won a small amount but never enough to compensate their losses.

Mr. North held on to only those things he required to start up the circus again. Most acts were let go as they were replaceable when needed. Many animals were sold along with the equipment, such as cages, concessions, and any tent that wasn’t fireproof.

Mr. North kept Bram on with Modoc because he figured when he opened the doors again, Modoc’s act would still be the best thing going. Gertie lost her job, as did Kelly. They were promised, as were many others, that when the circus reopened, they would be hired back. Most of the employees didn’t believe it would ever open again and went their separate ways.

Kelly found a job in the Midwest working horses on a ranch.

“He always did like to come around and watch the palominos work, or was it the girls?” Gertie would laugh.

Most of the elephants were kept. Bram was put in charge of them, and on any given day, he could be found out in the vacant lot putting them through their paces.

The head trainer was fired. He had been there ten years and was bitter about losing his job. Bram felt bad and told him so. He tried to explain that Mr. North had done it to save money, not because the trainer wasn’t good at his job. But the head trainer blamed it on Bram.

“You and that damn elephant. If I would have known he wanted that kind of act I would have done so,” he boasted. “You took away a ten-year career. Why didn’t he let me work Modoc and fire you? Now you are working my elephants and I’m fired!” He got real close to Bram’s face. “Just let’s not meet up on a side street someday.”

As always happens, the sideshow people were the hardest hit. Fingers wore five-fingered gloves and got a job parking cars, the Bearded Lady shaved her beard and became a bouncer in a strip club. Fat Lady went to a fat farm to lose some weight, but no one knew if she was successful. Snake Lady went to work as a hairstylist. Strong Man married a woman who was enamored of all those bulging muscles. Tall Man took a job as a doorman at a famous hotel in New York. Most said they would come back when the circus reopened.

The circus moved to its winter quarters in the South where the weather was constantly warm. Bram and Gertie lived on his new small salary and the memory of the past. They would sit by the hour and talk of what had been.

Modoc carried with her scars from the fire that would last a lifetime. Some of the skin on her back was permanently blistered with huge welts. Only those accustomed to elephants would notice, but Mr. North made Bram put her blanket on whenever anybody of importance came around.

After the court cases were over, Mr. North started to build the circus back. Slowly he found investors, and after a one-year period found the money, rebuilding the circus from top to bottom. He planned to use indoor stadiums whenever possible. The new equipment was fireproof. Animal acts were rehired. Some of the people, if they could be found, were asked back, but many had moved, died, or had “no forwarding address.”

Opening day was successful but brought back the memories of friends like Curpo and Kelly. It was hard on Bram preparing Modoc. He found himself asking Curpo to hand him something, to get Mo’s gold tips.

The circus was back in business. Receipts were good, the new acts were going well. Mr. North had made a special deal with a train company and now the circus traveled deluxe style.

Having their own train allowed them to go to towns they had never been to before, their schedule was more relaxed, and life in general was good. But it was one of these stopovers that was to change Modoc’s life forever.

“Hi, elephants, whatcha doing, huh? Ya want a drink, huh! Burp, ahh, oops, I, ah, slipped, ha, in your poopie. Shusss, don’t let them know I’m here, okay?”

A drunk had snuck into the elephant tent at night, unbeknownst to the security guard. He carried with him a bottle of scotch and a bull hook that a trainer had left on a hay bale. He sat on a hay bale in front of Modoc.

“I doon’t feel soo good, ya know, soo I’ll just sit down over here on this ole hay bale, oops, slipped, sorry. Now, you see this? Huh? Huh? Well, hist a bull hook. Ya know, soo don’t mess with me!” Looking up, “They, burp, call you Moodoc, yoour the golden elephantee. You are good, that’s for sure, hiccup, scuze me, you’re in the center ring.”

The drunk stood up on the hay bale, eye level with Mo. He sunk the hook into Modoc’s chin and pulled. “Come here!” he shouted.

Mo swung her head to him so fast he lost his balance and fell off the hay bale.

“Hey now, that wasn’t nice! You need to be taught some manners.”

Modoc sensed the man wanted to cause her injury. He wanted something from her. What? He got to his feet, picked up the bull hook, and swung it at Mo. She backed away, avoiding the hit.

“You bitch, come here now, I say!”

This time he circled her like a cat does a mouse. She watched him carefully. He ran at her again and smacked the hook against her side, ripping the flesh. She let out a bellow. He swung again, cutting her a six-inch gash.

Modoc whipped her foot out against the leg chains but they kept her at bay. Again he lashed out, catching her square on the face above the eye. The man was now committed to his task. His drunken stupor was not as evident. His anger had overcome his drinking. Modoc felt threatened. She would never hurt anyone unless provoked—and this man was hurting her. He came at her again, bull hook raised. She held her head high so he couldn’t reach her, then jerked her body to the side, breaking one of the hind leg chains.

“Well, now the battle is more even, isn’t it?” he shouted.

Sweat poured down his face. His shirt was sopping wet. Mo’s attitude was now aggressive. She balled her trunk, ears out, and waited for the onslaught. The man saw she now meant business. At first his face registered fear, as though he might back away, then the anger came again. He moved to the side of the barn and picked up a pitchfork.

“Now the score is a little more even, isn’t it?” Like a matador he circled Mo, pitchfork in one hand, bull hook in the other, poised for attack. “I can’t kill you, bitch, but I can hurt you.”

With this he made his move. He jabbed the pitchfork into her leg so deep he had to tug to get it out. Mo roared her pain. Blood was spilling down her side from the first wound, but the flow from the pitchfork was more profuse.

It flooded the hay around her feet, turning it into a slippery pool. Mo picked up a large sheaf of hay and threw it at him. The whole barn became a shower of hay particles.

“Ha ha, you big boob!”

Mo jerked at the front leg chain. It was heavier than the back one and refused to break. The man, his bloody pitchfork poised, held out in front of him, the bull hook shorter but lethal, came again. Full out. Like a kamikaze, screaming like a banshee, he launched himself at her. Mo grabbed the pitchfork from him, breaking it against her own leg. Then she grabbed him, holding him high. Her eyes were deep red. She hesitated, wondering whether to stomp him or throw him. The hesitation was all it took for the monster to swing the bull hook with all his might, sinking it into her eye!

With the hook still sticking out, she, bellowing with pain, slammed him to the ground, put a foot on his head, and decapitated him.

Bram, having heard the screams of agony, raced in to find the horror—the headless man and the bull hook still imbedded in her eye hanging loosely, swinging back and forth.

Mo lay still, tranquilized from the operation.

“The eye is gone, Bram, she will never see out of it again. I’ve left it intact. It will stay a whitish color; it’s the best I can do.”

The man who had hurt Mo had been a top trainer many years past. The records showed he’d been working with elephants, lions, tigers, as well as horses and even Brahma bulls. He was very successful with the Lippizaners and had landed a top position in the circus. It was an easy step from there to learn the big cats from the arena trainer. He wasn’t very good at it, but he was fascinated by the elephants. When a trainer was hurt by one of the big cow elephants, he asked for the position. That was the beginning of a new career that was to last ten years. He was a good trainer, gentle yet firm, and was praised by his peers.

He fell in love with the high-wire lady and they were inseparable. One day he was putting the elephants through their paces in ring three. The high-wire act was performing in the center ring. He heard a scream and looked in time to see her plummet forty feet to her death.

He turned to drinking hard liquor to help kill the pain of loss. It was when he started to take it out on the elephants that the management had issued a warning. But the beatings continued until one of the elephants, Rosie, picked him up and threw him about twenty feet. She would have killed him had she been off her leg chains. He never got another job after that. He hit skid row and stayed there for years, became an alcoholic, and the rest was history.

Anyone who knew him felt he wanted to die but didn’t have the courage to do it himself.

For six months Bram nursed Mo back to health. The eyelids functioned normally, but the eye itself was a chalk white.

The newspapers were not favorable to Modoc:

KILLER ELEPHANT GOES CRAZY

Others dubbed her Ol’ One Eye.

It wasn’t that long ago they had loved her, called her the Golden Elephant. Now, with one terrible act, she was regarded as a monster.