Tales from the Trails of a Rock ’n’ Roll Bus Driver

by Jerry Fitzpatrick

  When the last tent was loaded into Mack’s trailer, he settled with me for all the work and then gave me a $100 bonus. His beautiful hippie-like girlfriend hugged me and then they drove out of the park while I started to walk back to the Harbor House. It was about five to six blocks back to the house, but it was one of the longest walks I had ever made. I was on the verge of crying. I was so depressed. I didn’t even separate the bonus money I had been paid by Mack. When I came in the door, the staff member on duty looked at me.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I just don’t feel that good.”

  “You look like crap. I can’t believe the hours you’ve been working.”

  He took my money and I retired upstairs. I had been working so hard that I hadn’t even noticed the new guy who had moved in to my room. A new guy, another freak like me, I guess. I passed out and didn’t wake until late the next afternoon. When I wandered down stairs it was between lunch and dinner so nothing for me to eat. Mary saw me. She knew I had been working long hours, as she hadn’t seen me at any meals all week. About the time she was telling me she would give me a snack, Pete, the House director, came around the corner and it was the same banter. I look like crap, blah, blah, blah.

  “Come into my office when you’re done.”

  I’m double-checking what rules I might have broken and thinking of excuses. I couldn’t think of any major ones. Well, I did smoke a few joints at the fair, but there weren’t any drug tests to prove that. When I entered his office I sat in “The Chair,” the one you don’t want to be in. Pete always tried to imitate hillbilly slang when I was around.

  “You’ve come a long way, boy,” he said. “You’re a couple of months away from your one-year anniversary. Most kids don’t stay past 18 months.”

  I knew this already. Kids graduate and go on to the next program, go on their own or they go to a lock-up facility somewhere. Sometimes both. But I had never considered the day I would leave the place. Up until the time the carnival came things were pretty routine for me. I had worked my way up from being a four to being a two in the house discipline/privilege program. Pete explained that he was going to start looking to get me into the next program.

  Following our talk, I went upstairs to try and sleep but couldn’t. I felt I needed to already be at work at the carnival. I kept imagining what I would be doing if I were there. I could hear the sounds and smell the smells in my mind. I felt like I was missing the world. After a couple of days of falling into my normal routine, I had made up my mind that I was going to hit the road — run away like I had done a dozen times before. I thought I had found my calling at 16, and I made a plan of escape to get to it.

  It was all very simple. I threw a few things I thought valuable in a bag with some clothes and dropped it off down the fire escape. I said goodnight to the night staff at the Harbor House as I checked out to go to work at the restaurant. My heart wasn’t even beating fast. I knew I was meant to do this. I went around the house, grabbed my bag and walked to the highway and stuck out my thumb. I had a map and by then understood how to read them pretty well. I had had a few lessons from my dad when we had made trips together. Having already been a champ at running away, I learned to keep a map handy. I knew I was heading to the Jackson, Michigan area where the carnival was spending its next week, and it was only 150 or so miles away. It wasn’t long before I caught a ride with a couple that took me to Grand Rapids. They dropped me at a truck stop, and I caught another ride from there and another after that. By morning I was walking into the fairgrounds. It was just getting to be daylight, and there were very few people stirring yet. I found Mack’s truck and put my bag beside it. Knowing he would be sleeping in, I headed to a food trailer to get some breakfast. When the older couple working the trailer saw me they gave me a look.

  “Hey! Ain’t you?”

  “Yep. I’m gonna travel with the show.”

  The woman guaranteed that I would be fed every day. She made me breakfast, and I ate while people started getting up from where they had been sleeping in their campers and under rides and tents as the smell of bacon, eggs and coffee floated throughout the area. Several recognized me and sat with me and engaged in normal morning carnival banter. Just like I was supposed to be there. I was finished eating and was just sitting there yapping with someone when Mack and his girlfriend walked up. He was getting his coffee when his girlfriend saw me and came over to me. She gave me a hug and seemed surprised I was there. I smiled and was saying something when Mack walked over.

  “Holy shit! What are you doing here?”

  “I want to work here. I’m 16. I can leave.”

  Mack had a troubled look on his face, his eyebrows lowered and his head cocked to one side.

  “I am not going to get in trouble over this. As long as no cops are around, we’re cool,” he said, looking more confident.

  I was crazy happy and headed to my tent to get it organized. I got everything in its proper place, doing little things and chatting with Kathy, the new girl Mack had hired. She was 18 and seemed like a cool person. She lived in Jackson and was heading to college in the fall. She was going to work odd jobs all summer saving money for school. She hadn’t graduated from high school yet but only had a few weeks to go. She was attractive in her own way and seemed a little tomboyish to me. We got along well as soon as we met. She smoked marijuana and shared her stash with me. The weed in the ’70s got you high but was nothing like the strands that are available today. It was a simple laugh-inducing type of weed compared to today’s standards that really get you stoned.

  We got a giggle from the weed and did the things we had to do to finish out the tent and get it ready for the opening. She was new to the job. I led our tasks, showing her things like the proper way to hang stuffed animals in the tent so that we could get the most bang for the buck. Bigger animals went up top to grab fair-goers’ attention, smaller ones under the counter, usually the ones they went home with. But much money was made as people tried to win those big bears and lions. It felt good having a responsibility and being the leader. We hung out most of the day, then she went home to her parents’ house, and I spent the night hanging out with the carnies around the rides.

  There was a campfire and more than a dozen people had gathered around drinking and telling stories. I hadn’t really taken up drinking yet, so I just hung out and listened to the stories and jokes. Occasionally, someone would talk directly to me, but for the most part I listened. I slept in the Crazy Ball tent. Mack had an army-style cot that he gave me to set up in the tent. The sides of the tent rolled down and were tied off from the inside so there was a bit of privacy. I was living my dream, I remember thinking as I fell asleep that night under the tent.

  The next day the carnival opened. The Crazy Ball operator had a microphone and speakers to draw the crowds. Kathy and I went to work, she collecting the quarters and handing out the prizes, and I barking the chants trying to lure people over to play and working the ball.

  “Twenty-five cents to play—TWENTY-FIVE CENTS TO WIN!”

  “Come on DAD! Win the kid a prize!”

  Late the first night Kathy had gone up to another tent to exchange something with Mack. When she returned, she said the cops were at Mack’s tent questioning him about me. I freaked out, pacing not knowing where to turn. She said Mack wasn’t giving me up but I had better get scarce for a while. I exited the tent and wandered down the midway. As I got close to Mack’s truck with its camper shell up, I saw him getting something out of the back. We talked for a minute. He was assuring me all was okay, but as we walked away, he said again he wouldn’t go to jail for me.

  Without a photo of me, the cops really didn’t know who they were looking for at the time. I made it through my stay in Jackson, made a few dollars and was feeling like my life was secure. Then during the teardown of the carnival, Mack came to me and explained he wasn’t going to work me anymore. I felt like a truck had hit me. I had seen him and his girlfriend arguing for the last couple o
f days and could tell the tension between them was getting thick. I didn’t realize it was about me. I saw them coming to breakfast, not really walking together, like tempers had flared that morning. They got their breakfast and came over and sat next to me.

  Looking at me squarely, “I can’t do this anymore. We’re going to Ohio, and I don’t want to be involved with you traveling over state lines,” Mack said. “I got thousands of dollars in this stuff. Maybe you can go work one of the rides.”

  He gave me the name of a guy who was operating the Flying Bobs. Apparently, he had a guy that he was about to fire and had told Mack he would take a look at me. After breakfast I went to the Flying Bobs ride, where there was a crew of four working. A couple of them gave me a curious look as I stepped over the chain.

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m looking for Bill,” I replied.

  “Around back,” someone pointed.

  The Flying Bobs is a ride with swinging cars riding on a circle track. Loud music plays and various color lights blink as the ride moves forward and backward with a DJ screaming, “You wanna go FASTER?” The ride doesn’t go that fast but the ups and downs and the cars swinging back and forth make it seem like you’re really hauling ass. As I walked around the ride, I could see the artwork on the ride of polar bears and snow-capped mountains. This would be a different world than the Crazy Ball tent.

  I saw Bill. He had grease up to his elbows and a wrench in his hand and a short cigar stub hanging out of his mouth when he noticed me. He was a stalky man with Popeye sailor type arms.

  “You the little fucker Mack told me about?” he grunted with the cigar stub in his mouth. I said yeah, and he started telling me the rules. He barked out a half a dozen things about what not to do and a dozen about what to do. I listened and responded to his grunts. After he was finished, he told me to come back after Mack was done with me that night. I got the job.

  I headed back to the Crazy Ball tent to get organized for the day, my last. I was happy to still have a job with the carnival but wasn’t happy about not working with Mack and the Crazy Ball games. The day seemed to drag, even with thousands of people there for the last day of the carnival. Kathy and I were busy from the moment the gates opened, but the day was so long it seemed nightfall would never come. I told Kathy I was going to become a ride jock, and it was the subject of our morning chat, but the conversation waned as the day got busier.

  When the carnival closed that night we went about taking down everything and storing it in the trailers and then hooking the trailers up to the pickups. When the task was done we gathered around one of the trucks, and Mack handed out pay to Kathy and me. With the week’s work and a nice tip from Mack, I had over $700 in my pocket. Money to blow for a 16-year-old who had no bills or responsibilities. But I wasn’t that concerned about how much money I had or was making or spending. At that point I wasn’t there for the money. I was there to live, have fun and get away from all the troubles I had created up to that point in my life. I might have worked for free believing that this was where I was supposed to be.

  We passed a joint, said our goodbyes, and I headed over to the Flying Bobs to start my new position. The midway was chaotic with people running everywhere. Rides were coming down and folded up to be placed on trucks. Yells and mechanical sounds echoed throughout the park. Bill saw me and didn’t hesitate to holler at me to grab this and tote that. Curse words flew out of his mouth, just because he could. The night’s work turned into day’s work before everything was put in its place and ready for the ride down to Ohio. About halfway through the night I turned to hear Bill reaming one of the helpers for being a lazy no-good whatever. Finally he screamed, “Get your shit and get outta here before I kick your ass!”

  Bill walked past me.

  “You better work out better than that lazy fuck.”

  Bill had three helpers and he had just fired number three. I slipped in, knowing I wasn’t a lazy fuck, and just got busy doing whatever I was told. James and Lenny were the other two guys who worked the ride and drove the trucks for Bill. James was a pretty solid guy who had worked for Bill more than five years. Lenny was in his second year with Bill. Lenny was a shaky kind of guy who drank a lot. The guy who Bill fired was from Muskegon and had only made it two weeks. I was hoping to make it a little longer and was working my ass off doing whatever I was told as fast as I could. The last things to be picked up were the blocks of wood that had been placed for the ride to sit on to make it level. As the sun came up we were just about finished when Bill approached and said to find a place to sleep and that we would be pulling out of there at noon. I hadn’t noticed how nasty I had gotten through the night. Setting up and tearing down tents and Crazy Ball games wasn’t nearly as oily and greasy as setting up and tearing down rides. It’s a good feeling when the job is done and an even better feeling to get clean when it’s all done. But there is no place to clean up when everything is torn down at the carnival.

  I found a place to sleep on the ground close to the trucks and let my heavy eyes lead me to some much-anticipated rest. I woke up to the sound of trucks roaring. I felt like shit, was nasty as I had ever been in my life and didn’t have a good mindset when Bill came by me.

  “Get it together, kid!” I frowned back at him.

  “You’re going to be in the cab with me, so get your ass moving!”

  We were shuffling around getting into our seats when he released the brake and started to back up. My window was rolled down, and as I put my arm on the door, it swung back open. The truck was really old and a mega piece of crap. It probably shouldn’t have been on the road. I grabbed the door and slammed it really hard to get it closed as Bill started to move the truck backward. The sound of the door echoed and probably sounded like the truck shattered a concrete wall. Bill slammed on the brakes.

  “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?”

  Bill was a short stocky man in his late 50s. He looked rough with years of hard-work wrinkles in his face. He was missing a couple of teeth, and he had tattoos on both his forearms from the Army. He smelled bad all the time, and I think he slept with that cigar butt in his mouth. If he slept at all. At night when the carnival closed he got drunk until he passed out. But he woke up each morning like nothing had ever happened. No hangover, just his bad attitude. He was one of the meanest motherfuckers I ever met. I was a pretty big kid for my age. There was no doubt in my mind he could kick my ass and throw me out of the truck.

  Some of the wrenches he had been working on the truck with were laying on the cowling of the truck, also known as the doghouse. I grabbed the big crescent wrench, pulled it back a little and looked him square in the eye.

  “FUCK YOU OLD MAN!”

  I must have looked pretty ridiculous, a 16-year-old kid threatening badass Bill. He started laughing out loud. The first time I had seen him laugh. He made a comment about liking my spunk. He didn’t bother me the rest of the trip except when I had to piss, and then he yelled at me the entire time I stood on the side of the road relieving myself.

  When we arrived at our destination, I was still feeling dirty, beaten and worn out. As soon as Bill got the ride location, we pulled over and got the trucks situated. Like clockwork, Bill started barking orders. He was screaming for me to start getting so many types of blocks. The setup was going to be on a pretty level surface so not as many blocks were needed as was used in the last stop. James and Lenny knew the drill, but Bill was yelling out orders, because that was his style. Maybe in his dreams he was a drill sergeant. James and Lenny were always talking back to Bill but not to his face. James was a big athletic type of a guy with a gentle nature about him. Lenny was a skinny hippie type. They would say all kinds of weird and funny things about Bill when he wasn’t within earshot.

  We worked through the night. Most of the local help was late arriving so the four that made up our team had worked together getting things set for the ride. I slept on the ride in my sleeping bag and rose early to find the breakfast trailer. We worked thr
ough the morning and afternoon getting the ride ready for the opening the following day. I learned a lot about how the ride went together and how it operated. I learned the things I would be doing when the crowds were around and what would be expected of me when they weren’t. I set my bedroll under the ride when we finished. Bill slept in the truck, James slept in a tent next to his truck, and Lenny and I slept under the ride. There was headroom enough to hang up some blankets and make a private area almost like a room comfortable to relax and sleep in. Lenny had a hammock that he slept in on his side under the ride. I had just found some merchandise boxes and put them over the grass and put my bedroll over it. I hung some blankets, made a stool to sit on, and I was happy to have a home once again.

  Once everything was in place and had been tested, Bill called us over and gave us some wages. The best part – he directed us to the showers in the small cattle arena that was on the property. It had been several days since I had bathed. We cleaned up and went into town to find some good food. Everyone seemed to migrate to a little dive bar that was between the fairgrounds and the food area of town. Ride jocks congregate together and the games and food vendors seem to hang together. Everyone in the show is friendly, but not too much time is spent together partying. A carnie told me that if someone was giving me grief and if I was ever in any danger to yell, “HEY RUBE!” and anyone who was a carnie within earshot would come to my defense.

  When the gates opened on the first day, I started working taking tickets and putting people in their seats. The music was loud and a crowd of people started gathering around our ride. We got busy, and the fun began. Lenny was running the ride and talking all kinds of crap on the microphone, attracting the patrons our ride. James and I got a rhythm going with taking the tickets and getting people in and out of the buckets they had to ride in. Everything went smoothly the first day. I kept noticing a girl hanging around the ride and we started talking. She was attractive. She was only 15, but she ended up spending the night with me under the ride. We hung out together for the week, and then I never saw her again.