The Legacy of a Big Thinking Street Performer

I stood near the huge blue and yellow big top.  Nearly 20 feet above me was a stocky guy with a big beard.  "Ready?" he asked.  The first flag pole came sailing down at me like a spear.  I caught it and quickly leaned it against the yellow picket fence.  As soon as I turned back around, the next flag was already mid-air.  I had a quick vision of some Greek god throwing thunderbolts down from Mount Olympus.  But only for a fraction of a second, because the bearded man was walking quickly along the edge of the big top's roof, pulling a flag from its mounting pole, rolling it up quickly, and throwing it at me.  It was all I could do to keep up.  Once the flags were on the ground, Mike, the Cirque du Soleil tentmaster, came quickly down the huge ladder and we picked up all the flags to put them away.  "Are you coming up to Santa Monica?" he asked me, "we could use you."  I was helping tear down after Cirque du Soleil's third tour in Orange County, California.  The show Quidam was leaving the O.C. fairgrounds and going back up to the parking lot on the sand in Santa Monica, the city where the revolutionary new form of circus had its all-or-nothing run in 1987 that sparked a whole new form of traveling show. 

I did go help them set up again in Santa Monica.  I actually slept on the streets three or four nights, becaue I didn't have a car to commute up from Huntington Beach each morning, and wasn't making enough to get a motel room each night.  They would hire 50 or so laborers to set up and tear down each show.  At that time, there was still a group of workers that followed the Cirque around city to city, setting up, working one of the jobs during the run, and then tearing down.  Those people camped in vans and busses in the parking lot while the show was in each town.  I wound up being one of the last two temp people working in Santa Monica, which I consider an honor.  I finished up the day the show opened, then went by the box office, where I had worked three tours in Orange County.  My former bosses there knew I loved the show, and went to watch it any chance I got.  "Do you want to see the show tonight?" one asked.  She knew my answer would be "Yes."  The other laborer working with me also wanted to go.  "I'll get you guys the Guy (pronounced gee, hard G) seats.  I was stoked.  I'd watched the show from the "Guy seats" twice before, and it was amazing.  At every Cirque Du Soleil show then, the four best seats, dead center, on the aisle at the front of the second section, were held back in case Guy Laliberte', the founder of Cirque du Soleil, showed up, or had special guest there. 

The best thing I can say about Cirque du Soleil is that at that time, every single person on the crew was as good at their job as the performers were at theirs.  If I had to be an employee and work one job my whole life, it would be on the tent crew of Cirque du Soleil. 

This amazing creative enterprise began in the mind of a few street performers in Canada.  One person, Guy Laliberte', took that idea and ran with it.  I've never actually shook his hand, but I've been standing there as he talked with other crew people a couple of times.  His story is probably the most amazing of anyone I've ever come in contact with.