From Strongman to Strong Man
Written by Eric Shipley and Charlotte Easterling
Orange, Massachusetts, 1928
Orange, Massachusetts; View from the South Main St. bridge looking north. Image: digitalcommonwealth.org
Joe pulled his car back into the field where the circus was starting to tear down. Seated next to him was his brother-in-law, Dominicus. He was a bear of a man with a head of wavy, red hair.
“Sure about this?” Joe asked and got a nod by way of an answer. “Like I said,” he went on, “twenty’s a bit old to be running away to join the circus.” They’d talked this over, but he felt obliged to make sure.
Dominicus looked away. He and his family had been so excited when they heard the Great American Circus was coming to town. His little sister Flora (just five years old) and little brother Freddie (who, at twelve years old, hated being called “little”) had been especially thrilled. Plans to go had started immediately… and so had the trouble.
Dominicus shook his head. How can things have gone so wrong? he asked himself, knowing the answer full well.
Papa was partly to blame—Freddie was actually his bastard son, and Mother had never forgiven his infidelity. Thereby, Myra, his not-so-sweet sixteen sister, hated Papa. Then there was Karolina, his older sister (by two years) who, according to Mother, had had the unforgivable nerve to elope with James, a man she didn’t approve of.
Thankfully, there was no trouble surrounding his sister Audra, who was married to Joe and was only a year younger than Dominicus. It was heartwarming amidst all the turmoil, but he still missed having Papa and Karolina with them. It left him feeling like his family was hopelessly fractured.
He was captivated by the circus, though: The bright lights and shows and the cheerful hustle and bustle felt like something he wanted to be a part of.
Was Joe right? Was he running away? Maybe, but his mind was made up.
“Take good care of yourself and Audra, yes?” he said. He’d always loved Joe as the older brother he’d never had.
“Of course.”
They hugged briefly, then Dominicus grabbed his small bag and got out of the car. He gave a quick wave goodbye and turned and ran across the field as fast as he could.
***
“You’re a big one,” said the manager, a wiry, dark-haired man who introduced himself as Bruno. “I’ll wager you’re strong too?”
Dominicus nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir! I am!” To demonstrate, he hefted a nearby crate with ease.
Bruno was impressed. “What’s your name?”
“Dominicus Klimas.”
“Russian?” Bruno asked upon hearing the name and accent.
“No, sir! Lithuanian!”
Bruno was unimpressed. “Whatever. You’re hired.” They shook hands, and with that, Dominicus had joined the circus.
***
Photo shows a crowd of people at the entrance to a circus tent. On the right, sideshow attractions can be seen. Ca. late 1920s-early 1903s. Photo: fineartstorehouse.com
He never regretted his choice. Every day, he felt useful and content. He would always help set up and tear down, but he would also drive trucks, help repair what needed fixing, and tend to the animals (which could be both dangerous and disgusting—especially the elephants).
During the off-hours, he sometimes visited the nearest town, and although the pay wasn’t great, he was well-fed, given ample liquor, and had a bed that was too small for him. He quickly noticed that when he would take off his shirt to do sweaty work like unloading a truck or pounding in tent stakes, some of the women who were taking a break would gather to smoke and chat and watch. This soon led to Dominicus discovering certain other benefits of his job.
June, 1929
The noon sun was hot, and Dominicus was getting a drink of water when Bruno walked up to him.
“Sergei is leaving,” he said.
Sergei was the strongman, one of their most popular acts. He’d been with the circus for three years and had decided to try to get into the movies. Dominicus nodded. He was sorry to hear this. He liked Sergei’s gruff sense of humor.
“We need a new strongman,” Bruno continued. “Sergei won’t leave for a few more weeks, so he said he’ll train you.”
Dominicus started to nod again, then realized what Bruno was saying.
“You want me to be the strongman?”
The shock must have shown on his face because Bruno laughed.
“A big, Russian redhead is a crowd pleaser.”
Dominicus was offended once again. “I said before, I’m not Russian! I’m Lithuanian!”
Bruno was still unimpressed. “Okay, fine. You’ll need to grow a mustache and you should exaggerate your accent. Doesn’t matter what it is—audiences love an accent.”
“You want me to talk?!” Dominicus could feel his heart racing. “I’d rather pick up elephant shit!”
“What is it with you big guys?” Bruno laughed. “Sergei was the same when he started,” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, he’ll teach you everything you need to know. Congratulations!”
August, 1929
“You’ll do great, kid!”
Dominicus jumped, startled by the clown on stilts who called down to him on the way to the stage. Dominicus gave a small, none-too-certain wave, then went back to fidgeting in his uncomfortably snug singlet. Wearing it was embarrassing. The lights and crowds that had been so enticing now unnerved him. The sweat trickling down his back was distracting, but he did his best to focus on the act Sergei had helped him create: demonstrations of his strength along with some acting tricks, all designed to make things seem more impressive and dangerous than they actually were.
Bruno, impressive in his red tailcoat and black top hat, introduced him. “And now, be amazed by the prodigious strength of our Russian giant! Introducing the Mighty Dominicus!”
Dominicus was offended yet again about being called Russian, but he’d discovered Sergei wasn’t Russian either. (Bruno had just introduced him that way.) The revelation was firmly etched in memory:
“No, brother, I’m Irish. My name is really Sean.”
Dominicus did a double-take. “So your Russian accent is a put on.”
“Aye lad. Bruno insisted,” said Segei/Sean with a laugh and wink.
An example of a strongman act: Ivan “The Great” demonstrates his strength by holding a plank with five dancing couples on it. 1924. Photo: rarehistoricalphotos.com
Dominicus scowled as uncharitable thoughts about Bruno passed through his mind, but he decided a scowl worked well for his performance. So, scowl in place, he strode onto the stage and started his act. He flexed his muscles and strutted about, lifting a series of heavy objects and playing up the difficulty with some of them. To his delight, there was soon applause and gasps of wonder from the audience.
After that first show, Dominicus got over his nervousness and started being more interactive. He’d invite audience members to sit on a platform that he would lift, pick weights for him, or choose bars for him to bend. Even if he was tired after his performance, he always enjoyed circulating in the crowd. The delight people showed when he lifted them made him smile, and it never hurt if he happened to be lifting a pretty girl. More than once, one of them rewarded him with a kiss. He had a good job.
October, 1929
Dominicus sent postcards to his family from the many places the circus stopped and always let them know when he would be close enough for them to come see him. Despite this, he rarely heard from them during his traveling years until Audra finally sent a letter. It was bad news: Mother had died.
By the time Audra’s letter got to him Mother had already been buried. (In a traveling circus, mail delivery was an iffy proposition.) So Dominicus was unhappy he hadn’t had an opportunity to go to her funeral. But that was pushed aside by shock and sadness and a profound sense of loss. Mother had been just forty-five! Audra wrote that they’d been to visit her just before her death, and she’d seemed fine. The doctors concluded it was a stroke, so there was nothing that could’ve been done. Even so, it was still crushing news.
November, 1929
A second letter came from Myra not too long after Audra’s letter. It was more of a note telling him that Joe had died of a ruptured appendix. Dominicus was again shocked and saddened. He’d always expected to see Joe again.
He read the rest of the note through gathering tears. In the last line, Myra wrote that Papa was coming to get them all and move them to New York where he was living and working. Typical of her, she didn’t include any details like how the family was coping with all the loss.
Despite some lingering resentment about the cheating, Dominicus was glad to know Papa was now taking care of the family. He knew Audra, in particular, would need support. He wrote them a long letter, sharing grief, condolences, memories, and everything else that he wanted them to know. He was hurt (but unsurprised) that there was no response.
August, 1930
Illustration of Dominicus Klimas by Charlotte Easterling
Dominicus was excited when Bruno told him the circus would be stopping in Nashua, where Karolina lived. He wrote to her and asked her to come visit. She promptly wrote back and accepted his invitation, so as soon as the circus was set up just outside Nashua, she showed up with her two oldest children in tow. She was taken aback to see him in his costume, sporting a bushy, red handlebar mustache.
After a moment, she got over her surprise and introduced him to Adrian, who was seven, and Helen, who was five. They were wide-eyed, which Dominicus was concerned might, at least partly, be fear. So he got down on one knee so he could be at their level.
“Hello there.”
They continued to stare, so he put a hand on each of their heads, then gently scooped them up, one after the other, and set them on his broad shoulders. Karolina laughed and clapped. After a minute, she helped get them back down and held on to their hands when they were standing on solid ground. Dominicus told her that he’d made arrangements for them to enjoy anything they wanted to see or do for free.
“Oh, thank you,” she said, smiling gratefully. She would’ve given him a hug, but both of her hands were otherwise occupied. And upon hearing that everything was free, the two children started to tug at her.
“Slow down and stay with me!” Karolina shouted to be heard over the roar of the crowd. The kids relented, but only just. She knew impatient whines weren’t far off and gave Dominicus a small, wan smile.
“How are you? You look tired,” he said.
She dismissed it with a shake of her head. “I have four children, Dominicus. How else should I look?”
“Mama!” the children chorused, so Dominicus turned to them.
“What do you want to do?”
After a short debate, they settled on going to see the elephants.
“Then that’s where we’ll start,” he said and mimed an elephant trunk with his forearm. They all laughed, and then he guided them through the crowds to the center ring of the main tent. Nobody got in their way.
***
Later, when they were eating and the kids were distracted, Karolina confided that James had lost his job. He was looking for work but hadn’t found anything yet.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could help. This damn–” Karolina cut him off with a finger to her lips.
“Sorry,” said Dominicus apologetically. “This Depression has everyone hurting.”
Karolina agreed and continued eating. After the meal, her children were clearly getting sleepy, so they said their goodbyes. Before they left, though, Dominicus slipped some money into her hand. She started to protest, but this time he cut her off.
“Just some traveling money,” he said.
May, 1931
Dominicus was still with the circus when he heard from Myra again. More bad news—Papa had died. Myra was now 18 and was still as terse as ever. She did, however, tell him she’d taken Freddie and Flora back to Massachusetts. On the other hand, Audra was staying in New York and wouldn’t say what she was going to do on her own.
Dominicus read this, thought for a moment, then went to talk to Bruno.
June, 1931
The circus was in Orange again.
Where it all started, Dominicus thought with a sigh. Except Mother and Papa and Joe aren’t here.
This would be his last stop. After his final performance, he said his farewells, then he and Bruno exchanged thanks and shook hands.
Just like when I got hired, he thought.
He got into a truck with a new troupe member who wisely stayed quiet as they got ready for the drive into town.
As they pulled out of the field, it occurred to Dominicus that he still had the same small bag as when he started his adventure, and they may have been in the same field (maybe even the same spot) where Joe dropped him off three years ago.
The truck bumped along, and Dominicus watched out the window. His time with the circus had been the happiest of his life. Leaving was hard, but he found a degree of respite in the thought that instead of running away from his family, he was going back to them to be their strong man.
Map of the locations in the story, left to right: Nassau, New York (where Dominicus’s father lived); Orange, MA; Athol, MA (where Dominicus’s mother lived); and Nashua, NH. Map: Google Maps.