Last rail big top goes for a ride

What was it like when the circus train comes to town, daddy? Was it exciting waiting for the engines?

Did you hope the lions would roar and the tigers would snarl? Did the fat lady wave or a clown in the vestibule juggle some oranges? Did the old ringmaster crack his whip? Did the band played a circus march? Did the conductor swing his lantern?

What was it like?

Well,son, it was a funny combination of extraordinary and day-to-day routine. Sure, it was exciting to be there waiting. The chance to see a real circus train doesn't present itself often—the only "big top" which still travels by train is Ringling Bros., Barnum and Bailey Circus.

But the train itself was just a trio of ordinary yellow Union Pacific locomotives pulling some faded silver circus cars, with a UPRR caboose hooked on behind. Of course, the cars did say "Ringling Bros." Standing in the evening chill as the crews changed, there came the sleepy, timid trumpet of an elephant, muffled by its enclosed stall in its own car.

Then, there were the circus people, separated by their participation in "the greatest show on earth." Surprisingly, they all seemed under 30, men and women, all different races. Leaning out of the vestibules, they exhibited a friendly spirit, waving at cameras and laughing among themselves.

Most of them, at 11:35 Monday night, were beginning to look tired, facing the second half of a 28-hour trip. The train was late, delayed by the Amtrak "Pioneer" into the Nampa station. The circus knocked down its props Sunday in Seattle, Wash., and loaded them aboard the train, which Union Pacific contracts to pull, and headed for Salt Lake City, Utah, for another five night stand.

The train was divided into three parts. Right behind the engines were seven cars filled with animals. Then came some dormitory sleeping cars, the dining car, and several coaches for the circus staff. Most of the roustabouts, crew, and performers live right on the train, which will be parked near the Salt Lake City railroad depot tomorrow night.

Finally, the last half of the 38-car train looked like any other freight, as flatcar after flatcar stacked with circus wagons and equipment containers slowly rolled by.

So that was the circus train, a 100-year-old American tradition bringing excitement and glamour, all packed neatly into a few colorfully painted cars. It came through Nampa at night but the bright moon provided a suitable spotlight.

What was it like to drive a circus train? The crew coming in boarded the train at Huntington, Ore., and brought it 82 miles to the Nampa division point, where a new crew would convey Ringling Bros. to Pocatello. It took six crew changes to move the train from Seattle to Salt Lake City.

"It's just like an ordinary train," said engineer M.S. Darling of Nampa. "There are no special handling rules. We always handle them the best we can."

"We knew about two hours before it came that it would be a circus train," said fireman Steve Gardiner of Caldwell. "The dispatcher told us they used to come through four times a year." A crew assignment man in the Nampa depot said this will be the only circus train of the year.

"The only thing I know—the circus train is the slowest train alive," said Conductor Leo Bresnahan of Nampa. "We just stared at the inside of the caboose."

So much for glamour.

Published by The Idaho Press-Tribune, Pioneer League Newspapers, Boise-Nampa-Caldwell, ID, 83652

A contemporary encore to the circus saga The famous circus logo still promotes the show—and the train—to all the world. What'ya know … they still use the old circus wagons. This was parked on a side street near the Everett depot. Six blocks from the depot and three miles from the train. I guess the animals don't parade through town anymore. Now they get their own bus. This big GE Dash9 locomotive almost hides the blunt end of the circus train. Later that afternoon, locomotive and train departed for San Jose, Calif. When I decided to illustrate this article, it meant finding a circus train. Fortunately, there happened to be one in town. The performance venue was easy, it was all over television. But the train was a tougher nut. No one knew at the depot, including the staff. The police wouldn't say. I finally befriended a circus security manager who was happy to talk. He pointed me toward Burlington Northern Santa Fe's Delta Yard (ex-Northern Pacific), which I'd never visited before. All these photos were taken in September 2004 late on a blustery afternoon. Originally this article was accompanied by photos of circus crew hanging out the train's Dutch doors, a tiger (they opened the side door to show its cage), and the engineer and fireman. I'm still not sure exactly where those photos disappeared. The late afternoon sky was astounding over Delta Yard. The remnants of a thunderstorm (rare in Washington) dissipate into cotton candy. Delta Yard broke out in the most beautiful rainbow as I packed my camera away—and got it out again.