The Show Must Go On

The circus with cultural buzz today is Canada's animal-free, seamlessly theatrical Cirque du Soleil -- and even it doesn't have the must-see appeal it did five years ago. Meanwhile, traditional circuses, like Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey, are putting together more lavishly choreographed, Cirque du Soleil-type productions and relying less on individual circus acts to draw crowds. Thus, the Hanneford siblings enter the full flower of their careers gamely presenting traditions regarded by the public as quaint, old-fashioned, and a tad outdated -- if not cruel.

But now it's showtime at the Hanneford Family Circus. George sighs deeply. Saddled with his grandfather's melancholic nature, the 31-year-old has to struggle against his natural introversion. From the time he could walk, though, he's been trained to put a smile on it and put on the show anyway.

"Any performer has two sides," says Lyudmila Musina, a Russian circus artist who has done a dog-and-cat show with the Hannefords for the past three years. "One is for the people, and the other is for the kitchen. When circus people go on-stage, everybody thinks this is a happy person. Nobody can see that other side."

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"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages," George bellows from behind the still-closed curtain. "Welcome to the Swap Shop and to the Hanneford Family Circus.

"We are proud to present Polish-Arabian stallions performing at liberty, trained and presented by the enchanting Miss Catherine Hanneford, representing eight generations of equestrian excellence."

Catherine glides into the ring in movie-star glam, wearing a strapless, close-fitting, gold lame evening gown, fine honey-blond hair tied in a topknot that cascades to her shoulders. Her transformation from down-in-the-dirt farm girl into glamour babe has taken all of three minutes.

She beams at the audience, raises one arm into the air, pirouettes, and introduces herself. "My name is Catherine Hanneford," she says, pausing dramatically and turning. She sweeps her arm toward the curtain. "And these are my beautiful horses." On cue, five black stallions prance out from backstage and circle the ring. Each has white plumes attached to his head halter and another on his harness, both decorated with silvery medallions.

Catherine has trained her horses to respond to voice commands and cues from a long whip that she wields delicately. The horses perform a tightly choreographed ballet, with Catherine giving directions and furling and unfurling the whip until the tip hits the ground or swirls near the horses' ears. Three of the stallions split off and trot in one direction, passing the other two so closely that they almost brush one another. They weave together, making a braid of movement, while Catherine calls out "easy, easy, easy" to Sartanya, who is rushing, or hurries up another who is lagging behind. She has the horses circle the ring again, then calls them all to her and gives the command to rear. All five rise into the air on their hind legs.

Following Catherine's performance, Musina appears in clown makeup with her three trained poodles and two cats. The visiting act, Cousin Grumpy and the Pork Chop Review, follows. Malservisi and Burkatska perform an aerial ballet on ropes. Mark David Anthony ricochets around a trapeze in the upper reaches of the Swap Shop ceiling while Elton John's "Your Song" swells from the loudspeakers. To close the show, George and Catherine, both now clad in form-fitting turquoise jerseys, perform with the family's three elephants, Carol, Liz, and Patty.

Contrary to what animal-rights activists claim, Catherine says that if you watch Carol, you can see her straining for her cue to enter the ring as the DJ switches the music to Kool & the Gang's "Jungle Boogie."

George believes the elephants could perform the whole routine on their own. "I think they would get about halfway through, look around, and wonder where Georgie and Catherine are," he says later. As the elephants perform -- standing with one leg raised, climbing onto a pedestal, lying on the ground, sitting on their hindquarters -- they seem to cue off the music. "They know which trick comes after which trick. They could do it a cappella," George says. "We are basically there for transitions and timing."

Toward the end of the performance, George hangs onto the harness of one of the elephants and hoists himself up to stand on her head while she stands up on her rear legs. The audience applauds. As the elephants exit, Catherine says, "Say goodbye to these beautiful girls." And a few moments later, George Hanneford III will rip off his turquoise jersey top, come running out into the ring, and do six consecutive back handsprings to end the show.

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Before television, malls, blockbuster movies, rock extravaganzas, and the advent of major performing arts halls in even midsized towns, businesses literally shut down when the circus pulled into town in the early 1900s, says John McConnell, owner of Circus Royale and author of a book on the Hannefords. Circus performers were highly paid, well-known public stars. "It was the leading popular entertainment in the United States," he says.