To Primm and Back: A Diary of the 51st Annual IJA Festival

About two weeks before the festival, I ring up Richard Dingman, the festival registrar. "Hi, my name is Katje, and I'm a procrastinating juggler!" "You're not the only one," he drily responds. Even though I'm hideously late, he can fit me onto the shuttle from the airport to Primm. I did miss the $15 room rate, so I'm forced to pay the staggering fee of $18 per night for my double queen room.

I fly in on a Southwest flight from Sacramento on Friday, July 12, and find myself explaining to an 85-year-old woman exactly what a diabolo is. She reads the festival brochure and says she'd like to join us, but she's on her way to her great-granddaughter's wedding. The expected high in Las Vegas is 108 today.

We catch the shuttle, meeting several folks from previous festivals. I'm glad, because I was nervous that I wouldn't know anyone at all, this being my first IJA festival. This doesn't turn out to be a problem at all, for even folks I don't know for the most part are friendly and eager to share their skills.

At the casino/hotel, we aren't allowed to check in before noon -- when the World Cup starts. The roommate, my ten-year-old son, is concerned that we'll miss it. As it turns out, due to the long check-in line, we do miss the first half. Brazil is thoroughly and unexpectedly humiliated by France, and we are inspired to go join the festival and participate in awesome prop manipulation.

After a "monorail" ride (it seems to have at least two rails), and a search through another mind-numbing smoky casino, we finally find the unmarked "gym," which is really a hotel ballroom with a fairly high ceiling and rather poor lighting (about a third of the gym's lights go out and remain out for the rest of the festival -- an attempt to get one part of the room where numbers jugglers can practice without glare?). The registration desk is staffed by friendly but disorganized folks -- IJA board info, the new Juggle magazine, and festival schedules are stacked up for us to take (later it turns out that they run out of t-shirts, magazines and schedules -- maybe a more careful distribution would ensure that at least the pre-registered folks would have theirs waiting).

I visit the IJA Affiliates Meeting, which was far better attended than the IJA member meeting the next morning. Lots of stuff in the works for the affiliates -- get in contact with Bill Giduz if you want to learn more.

I finally score one of the Madison Area Jugglers' "One juggler, two juggler..." spoof on Dr. Seuss t-shirts that I've been lusting after for years. I meet Kathy and Jack Kalvan and their beautiful baby Ellen; Kathy is staffing the Flamingo Club table. This is a great idea: in an effort to make the festivals more family friendly, they set up a place for kids to play, draw, eat, and hang out. I'm shocked at her story -- the hotel security busted her for putting out fresh fruit and PB&J sandwich makings for kids, saying it violated the IJA's contract with the hotel. See, we're all supposed to buy food from the hotel, we cannot under any circumstances bring our own, especially if we're going to share it with cranky kids who have some strange aversion to standing in a buffet line for 30 minutes in between packs of smokers. She literally goes undercover -- the contrabananas are now set up under a tablecloth behind the booth. The word is spread covertly, and the children of the fest are fed -- probably much better than anyone else is, it turns out.

That night, I discover exactly how bad the food situation is. We stand in line for 35 minutes, wait 20 more to order, then 20 more for our scrambled eggs and hash browns to arrive (the Jackpot Special, 95 cents -- we probably ingest more cholesterol during this fest than in the last five years). Vegetarians are out of luck -- we live on eggs and dinner salads all week (hold the ham!). I have no idea at all if any vegans survived. There is no grocery store or other food choices for 35 miles -- the local McDonalds becomes a culinary oasis for those who are willing to brave the heat.

It is with a sense of resignation that we finally leave the restaurant and head over for the show, in yet a third casino across the freeway. We take a second "monorail" (this one seems to be more of a cable car) to the showroom, passing on the way the Bonnie & Clyde Death Car (hmm, this really is a great place for kids!). I meet up with Keith "The Leaf" Hirschman, who lifts my spirits with his diabolo stunts.

The opening night show is "Foolish Exploits and Fabulous Feats," arranged by Mark McGuire, the entertainment director of Circus Circus casino/hotel in Reno. These are all acts that are now performing in casinos, and the lineup looks good. I wonder when we'll meet the up-and-coming talent that usually graces the Renegade stage (there's a rumor that the Renegades are boycotting this festival due to IJA board demands to censor or at least require performers to sign a liability form... but it turns out to be exactly that, a rumor. However, vendor coordinator Barry Korengold confirms that the Renegades are bowing out this year, but he feels that they were looking for an excuse not to come anymore.)

Emcee Mac King drives the show with his innate charm and a plaid suit. Vladik opens with a very sexy, slinky act with lots of techno dance moves -- but most of the beginning is lost to us past the first few row, for he is low on the floor and the seats ahead of us block the action. Primitive music accompanies his nearly dropless act that includes a seamless kickup into seven balls. A helluva start!

Gregory Popovich is supplementing his income as a professional juggler with his trained animal act. He actually brings out ten housecats, and each does different tricks, including a 10 foot dive from a platform to Popovich's shoulder. Another cat pushes a dog in a small pram. It's a funny and frisky act.

Northern California's renaissance faire favorites Sean and Dave arrive to caution us to "go to your workshops, or you'll end up here." Their bowling ball bit is still a knockout, and an explosion during torch passing is pretty believable.

Wang Hong, who I've seen traveling with the New Pickle Circus, is still astonishing with her foot juggling of parasols and rugs -- she earns the first standing ovation of the festival.

Popovich and pal Eric Sander return with a boxing clown routine full of delicious physical comedy, a display of thwarted wills, jumpropes, and human nature (but the referee's whistle got old after a while).

A surprise! Not on the program, Katja Ignatov, Sergei's daughter, takes the stage. She opens in a sexy outfit (my, my, these kids are growing up, aren't they?) with five balls on a big blue walking globe. Ball and ring juggling, ball balancing, jumprope while she bounces a ball on her head -- I am surprised at the number of drops she has, though she does manage to flash eight rings at the end.

Yan Yan and Yan Pin Zhao from Beijing perform their flawless unicycle act -- he continues the theme as he jumps rope on a unicycle. Then she takes her giraffe uni up onto a table, maybe 4 feet square, and kicks up cups, saucers, a teapot, a spoon and finally a lid, all onto her head with absolutely perfect precision and even a touch of comedy.

During intermission, lots of props break out. I spy two kids from the Wise Guys, a youth group from Edina, Minnesota, stealing five balls from each other. If these guys are over 12, I'd be surprised.

Dave Finnigan presents the Public Education award to IJA director Perry Rubenfeld. Perry delivers a bit of a long-winded prepared thank-you speech -- does it belong in a public show? But soon we are mercifully back to the feats and exploits...

Popovich is back again with a nice hat and umbrella routine. He actually leaps into a vaulted hat and coat. An amazing kick-up of a hat to balance on a cigar, and table juggling on his head. Some snazzy cigar box work, then he brings out a dog again. He's got a 4-foot contraption balanced on his forehead -- he juggles and tosses a ball to the dog perched on a platform on top, who then drops the ball into a spiral chute that drops it back to Popovich.

Next we have what I think is probably the most amazing single feat at the festival: Vladimir and Anatoly of the Moscow Circus perform a rola-bola act to swing music. All their stunts are done on this prop, and all of them are performed in duet. They dance through each other's legs, do handstands, stand on each other's shoulders... then they start stacking platforms on the board, up to four high, cool as cucumbers as they sit on the top and cross their legs. Then the capper: they manage to hold their balance atop FIVE (yes, 5!) stacked cylinders, rolling in both dimensions. Together. Honest.

The Zhao siblings return with a bicycle act that exhibits great teamwork and balance (though Vladimir and Anatoly are a darned hard act to follow).

Finally, we get to see the fabled Sergei Ignatov. He starts with five clubs to a gorgeous cascading piano piece, then to five balls, from a reverse cascade into a shower and multiplexes, then seven. Now he goes to seven rings, doing first a half then a full pirouette under five of them, and pancake throws. He starts three clubs, kicks up to four, then loses his place in the music as he drops during a kickup to five. He can't get back on track with the music, and actually becomes human as he exhibits more than a little irritation -- then finishes his act without music. Now five clubs, continual backcrosses, multiplexing; a transition from fast low doubles to flats is beautiful to see. Back to seven rings, to nine -- drops one on his pulldown, does it once again perfectly to a standing ovation. What a finish!

Back in the gym, I visit with Rick Rubenstein and am introduced to Dan Bennett. I spy Steve Healy doing some nifty 2-diabolo tricks (Steve will be putting on the Catalina Island Juggling Festival immediately after Primm winds down). I decide to volunteer for a few hours later in the week in order to snag one of the cool volunteer pins: a sheriff's badge with the word "Juggler" instead of "Deputy." Met up with the other Sacramento delegates, Lance & Leendah -- he's teaching some of his beautiful contact juggling moves with some kids from Maryland. Passed for a while with Walter from Atlanta while his pal Fran kibbutzed (in a friendly way) -- Fran is apparently the fellow who is resurrecting the midnight show tomorrow night. I cheer him on. The Christian jugglers have about 40 folks dominating a corner of the gym (I understand that when a ball hits the floor, they say "I didn't drop. He's fallen."). Combat breaks out in one of the breakout rooms.

As earlier, I am astonished by both the caliber and the youth of many of the new jugglers I meet here... not to mention more than a little intimidated. I'm one of those hobbyists who can pass reasonably well and hold my own as a feeder if the tricks don't come in too thick and wild. These kids all seem to run five balls without blinking a lash.

There's a fellow in purple harem pants playing with a single-sided diabolo made of wood that howls as it spins -- he has to keep slowly turning in a circle, great for surround audiences, I guess. I chat up Golden Jester's Justin Sane, discussing Gatto's break from juggling and how we need to take a vacation from our passions once in a while. Spied Qaran from Santa Cruz, in a group doing some crazy incomprehensible pattern dreamed up, no doubt, by Martin Frost who seems to be organizing the thing.

Walking turns out to be a faster mode of transportation for much of the rest of the festival, for the "monorails" are often out of order and the alternative shuttle bus comes about every 20 minutes. So I head back to the hotel, leaf through the first Juggle magazine (the new incarnation of Juggler's World, looks good so far), and crashed at 2 a.m. (turned out to be the earliest I go to bed all week).

Primm Diary: Day 2

Next morning is the IJA business meeting (10 a.m., across the freeway, 100 degrees, no monorail). That will be another story in itself, but suffice to say that I think the board needs a little bit of an attitude adjustment. These aren't bad folks, they're just out of touch with the membership. They are real humans trying their best to serve the IJA, but their persistant blindness to their uncommunicative reputation among the members frustrated me to no end. The favorite quote among them is "You have no idea...." how hard they've been working, how much time it takes to get a task done, how much effort putting on a festival takes. Well, I've been in a position to know exactly what each of those things takes, and I resented being told that I had "no idea" over and over. The upshot is that the status will remain quo, and if the membership agrees with being condescended to, I have no reason to believe that anything will change. One thing that folks agree on is to make the meeting at a more accessible time and place. One suggestion is to change the name of the gathering to attract more folks; "Live Nude Review" is under consideration.

I learn that the way to avoid lines was to eat at the off hours -- there is no line for the buffet at 3 p.m., where I spy Jeff Daymont (who to my surprise points out the Beijing performers, puffing like chimneys, across the restaurant). Back in the gym, I watch Vladik practicing 8 balls, sight Jon Wee and Owen Morse of The Passing Zone, visit with Neil Stammar and pick up a diabolo book from him, then gawp at Jason Garfield, who was successfully flashing 10 rings with a pulldown. The emergency alarms keep going off, accompanied by these flashbulb lights that surround the room -- extremely annoying (the casino is building a new mall next door, due to open in two days, and they are checking the emergency systems. As far as I can tell, they are doing a great job at teaching us to ignore them). Chuck Fernald shows up (he and wife April are the proud parents of son Ryan) and did some three count and shower passing with me, then I walk back to the hotel room to rest a bit before the youth show that night.

The supportive crowd who shows up for the youth show isn't disappointed. Paul Eisner, coach of the Wise Guys, marshalls his thirteen delegates into an impressive display of their skills. The Finnegan family, Chad Patz (wearing Brian's old juniors costume), and Leda McDaniel all have guest spots. It turns out that the youngest Finnegan, Ben, was my son's age, and they romp together for much of the rest of the festival. I sincerely hope the IJA continues this show in the future!

The youth show is followed by Movie Night, which is disappointing to me. It turns out that the IJA collected money to show copyrighted material without permission, and now there's all sorts of stuff flying around rec.juggling about it. However, that wasn't the worst: there was no MC, the bits ran together with no identification (unless somebody shouted something out), and the quality was generally poor. The worst stuff, at the end, turned out to be pretty much all of the surviving footage of Enrico Rastelli -- I sure wish I'd known that before I'd seen it! It was great that Paul Bachman was generous enough to share from his collection of film, but with a little effort the presentation could have been so much better (not to mention perhaps legal). Other highlights of the show: Frances Brunn on the Jack Benny show, a young girl doing 8 balls in a multiplex fountain pattern, the king of hula hoops, and a popeyed woman from the Letterman show.

After walking back to the gym and fooling around for a while, we walk back under the freeway again for the first post-Renegade midnight show. A brass duo plays some jazzy mood music while folks use big punching balloons as props for balloon swinging, balloon cigar boxes, contact ballooning, and an amazing attempt at two balloons in one mouth. A quick imitation of Clockwork with casino coin cups brings an enraged Rick Rubenstein to the stage, killing time while somebody finally finds a boombox. There are no stage lights, and the house lights stay on throughout the show.

Bob Nickerson emcees, and the Dazzling Demusio Brothers open the show. Maybe 10 and 12, these barefoot kids do a high energy passing routine with a unicycle two-man finish. Vince Delauder follows a sultry fire-eating number.

Emcee Bob decides that the audience is in need of pun-ishment, and proceeds to pummel us with every ax and hatchet pun possible. The digital nasal decongestant and bisoxuality jokes really are funny... the rest, well, in his own words: "You can tell I write my own jokes. Who'd steal jokes like these? The Thief of Bad Gags?"

Then we get a Greg Louganis imitator, a tap dancer, fire nunchucks, and a shrill German singer (Bob: "Last year poetry, this year singing.. now we have culture in the IJA!"). Some flaming poi balls from Canada, a funny imitation of a virgin festival participant, and then Adam Zeisler does his deadhead juggling act -- a bit too long but he looked like he was having fun.

Six of us go eat at one of the coffeeshops for less than ten bucks. We eat crummy, but we each cheap! We do some hat tricks but manage not to get thrown out, though we are all carded as we leave because baby-faced Lance plays a slot machine (Primm is torn between promoting the place as a great family get-away, and keeping up with the anti-minor laws). We walk back under the freeway -- it's at least 90 degrees out, at 3 a.m., pitch black sky and flashing casinos all around, a very surreal feeling.

There are only a dozen hardy souls in the gym, making us wonder where the party is. A couple of cheapskates snooze in unobtrusive corners. I distribute arnica oil to those in need -- after playing Florence Nightengale for a while, I decide to pack up my tent and am in bed by 4 a.m.

Primm Diary: Day 3

For some odd reason I wake up at 8 a.m. and cannot go back to sleep. I send the roommate down to the pool and do my shift as a volunteer, playing door cop for Sergei's workshop at 11 a.m. Everyone is there but Sergei -- turns out he has gone to visit friends in Lost Wages and won't be back 'till noon. I am sent to do perimeter patrol and find a hidden kitchen out behind the ballroom. This serves me well later on....

I do a few braids (hair braiding is one of my businesses), some massage, chat with some board members (the more I talk with Bill Giduz the more I like him), and meet up with Bob and Ben, a father and son from New York -- my son shows up and we all brave the buffet together.

Back in the gym, somebody is playing an Irish tin whistle, there's a guy doing amazing things with four, five, six hats, some folks are playing double dutch jumprope -- it's time to play! I pass with Larry from Philadephia, practicing over-the-shoulder throws that nearly put both of us in the hospital.

The club passing "breakout" I attend falls into utter chaos. There isn't even one facilitator to transform this into an exchange of ideas instead of anarchy. Some folks show their stuff, but it's too crowded in the little room and I bail.

Rick Rubenstein and Jon Wee host a Teams workshop. It keeps veering towards general business and booking questions, which apparently is another sorely needed workshop. Jon's article on teams in the new issue of Juggle is great, so if you missed the workshop you'll still have a chance to catch up.

Things are laid back tonight -- there's no show except the Midnight Show. Some folks are on a foray into Vegas, but there's still a lot of activity in the gym.

I meet up with Bill, who works with Klutz Press. I express amazement that they don't have more of a presence at this fest (I was just given one of their tiny keychains -- three bitty balls and a miniature, readable version of their flagship book. It would have sold like mad here). Klutz is probably singlehandedly responsible for the majority of the jugglers here! He, too, expresses frustration with them, and I promise to write a letter (now that I've written this, I guess I better follow through on that, eh?).

The Flamingo Club meets that evening, while my roommate plays balloon combat with Ben Finnegan. About ten women attend, and I learn some of the history behind the group. Kathy tells her hotel security horror story. Dorothy Finnegan, the poised and charming recipient of last year's Flamingo Award (presented annually to encourage young female jugglers), confirmed that the award inpired her immensely ("Ask anyone -- I've never practice as much!"). She is asked to present this year's award, and we discuss how to select the new recipient, in addition to promoting a wider and more positive view of the group for next year.

After dinner, I meet up with David Mortimer (Mort), Qaran, and the Clockwork team, who will be emcees for the competitions tomorrow night. They were preliminary judges, and I listen and learn a lot about how the competitions are put together, Junior and Senior designations, the lack of compulsory moves, the increased caliber of contestants, the resulting frustration of competitors who don't make the cut, and how the judges deal with them (Mort is an assistant producer). I recognize some familiar names, and it looks like the show will be a good one.

I reluctantly hike over to the showroom again -- after last night's show with no lights and funky sound, I'd really rather just go to bed; but some of my friends are in the show tonight and I promised to cheer them on. While waiting for the show to start, somebody starts a huge game of Simon Says. To my surprise, I am one of four people Simon can't fool, and am declared one of the winners. Too bad there isn't a gold medal for it!

Robert "Butterfly Man" Nelson is tonight's emcee, and while we have lights there is no sound. He has a sound system but no amp, and after he raves for a while at the audience, somebody leaps up to go get an amp out of his/her hotel room. Chuck Williams from Pennsylvania displays true patriotic style as he sings the Star Spangled Banner while stripping down to his Star Spangled Briefs. Some folks actually remember to rise to the occasion.

Finally, at 12:50, the amp shows up. While Bob is clipping on his lapel mike, he retorts to a heckler that he's "been doing this while you were still fucking around in college." The squeaky clean amp owner promptly unplugs his amp and takes it home. The result: an acoustic Midnight Show.

My buddies Duckie, Tom, Boguss (part of Out Of Kontrol jugglers in Southern California), Keith the Leaf and Lance get up and demonstrate Duckie's Demise, a feeding pattern where a single feeder feeds to a fella straight ahead of him, to the right, straight behind, and to the left, without moving. Sort of a Torture Chamber, but different.

Japan's yoyo champion Masaki Kimoto, 12 years old, does his high energy double yoyo routine. It's unbelievable! Joe Seki is back with his nunchucks, but this time they glow in the dark. It's pretty much the same long routine as last night. Jill Westover does her trademark baton work beautifully. Identical twins Jake and Marty, maybe 12, do a bunch of three and five ball tricks, passing, shoulder-stands, and steals (it turns out that there are six sets of juggling twins at this festival!).

Lance Coombes finishes the show with a dropless contact juggling routine. I've seen him do this three or four times and I never, ever get tired of watching him, his graceful fluid dance style, and his delighted grin when the audence acknowledges a tough move. I'm not sorry I stayed up for this show.

Back in the gym, I settle into a circle of performers and friends trading jokes and stories. I meet David Deeble and Davie Hussy (who dislocated his left shoulder the night before while playing fieldball). Rick, Qaran and I head over to a coffeeshop, and while we are picking black plastic bits out of the cocoa, David Dislocated and the Beaver Falls twins Becky and Laura join us. We get pretty silly and goof around until about 6 a.m.

Primm Diary: Day 4

Up again at 10 a.m. to catch Dave Finnegan's workshop, Five Balls The Easy Way. He shares the secret method he learned ("There are no secrets anymore"), and Dorothy helps coach us encouragingly.

The numbers competition and the auction are going on simultaneously, which not only takes up too much gym space but each interferes with the other. I have to wonder what dim bulb came up with this plan. Ben Schoenberg officiates at the numbers contest, which is intense and exciting. There were no huge surprises, but watching the dogged determiniation of these atheletes was awesome.

I borrow Kathy and Jack's baby Ellen while dad warms up for his run at the gold in the teams numbers race. We have fun walking around, but she gets fussier and fussier. We abandon the stroller -- the gym is too crowded and it's just too dangerous. She sits on my hip, watching dad and his team take the gold, then she passes out as if somebody beaned her with a bat. The Kalvans headed for McDonalds and I headed off for a nap before the competitions.

It was 117 degrees today, and it's still pretty bad as we walk over to the showroom. I get to go backstage and braid Heather's hair for her teams act (she's the ONLY woman in either teams or individuals -- and people say we don't need the Flamingo award!). Amazingly, I manage to score a seat in the front row, next to Bill, right behind the judges. Bill is called away briefly to convince a ticket taker that Todd Smith is indeed an honored guest and doesn't need to produce a ticket. Three Garbo cubes float about, hit by the spotlight and dappled by the mirror ball overhead. The crowd is in a great mood and ready to have a good time.

We are not in the least bit disappointed. Clockwork emcees, and we start with the juniors. Mike Roberts has the unenviable position of opening the show -- he's got a few drops but he's good. He's got a move passing clubs hand to hand behind his back that's very nice, four and five clubs, then a pretty fancy diabolo routine, ending with two diabolos around the leg and in the air.

Junior Jeff Civilico starts with a step mount on his unicycle. Then he does 3 and 4 clubs, backcrosses, showy moves that makes him right at home in Vegas. You can see there's some footbagging in this kid's past. Four ball Mills Mess, four overhead, five with a behind the back catch and then he throws them all into a waiting trash can (it later turns out that he's the only dropless act of the evening).

The emcees do a funny Juggling Difficulty Chart (from 1-10: balls & diabolos rank 2, scarves about minus 10, kittens 7, dead kittens 4, flaming kittens 9, torches 6 "'cus if you catch them the wrong way your hand might get dirty").

Junior Luke Jay returns to the competition stage with a great routine. The music was sort of techno, and he does some great tricks involving the handles of his clubs. Unfortunately, some drops throughout. He starts five with single spin, four rings with a pirouette, then a pirouette under five, then seven, then he finished by flashing 8.

Terry The Great traveled all the way from Australia to try his luck in juniors. He begins with club balances, nose balance while swinging two clubs. He has lots of drops and several fairly risque moves. A smooth four club Mills Mess, then six clubs. Then he moves into an absolutely gonzo diabolo routine but ARGH! So many drops! He does two in one hand, then three on his second try. A freemount to a tall unicycle, with five clubs on his second try. He obviously enjoys himself. (After he finished, Clockwork brought out the difficulty chart and moved diabolos up to 10!).

Finally the site of the 1999 IJA festival is announced: Niagara Falls (NY side).

Junior David Demusio (who we met last night on the Rene- um, I mean Midnight stage) just has too many drops throughout his whole routine. He has a wide range of tricks with clubs and balls but this just isn't his year.

Senior David Cain starts out with four rings in a colorful presentation. Again, quite a few drops. At one point, all three clubs jump away from him -- he grins and begins to tap dance. He has a great club chin balance and head roll combination, and a club swinging and cascade combination -- he's very inventive, but again it just isn't his year.

Dorothy Finnegan presents the Flamingo Award to a 13 year old who was attending her first IJA conference, Nicole Dies.

Then we are finally in Teams territory. Heather and Darrin of Redefining Gravity start out with contact juggling with a glowball in a MIB theme. She goes up on his shoulders doing four, then the sunglasses come off and they get serious: six clubs back to back, then 7, then 8. Face to face, they go into thundershowers with six, three count with six then seven, 8 in a right/left pattern, then 8 in a single shower! An alien snuck out with club number 9, which they worked into a doubles shower, then each of them did five clubs, then together they did ten perfectly! It was clear the teams competition was going to be a tough one this year.

Senior Toby Rademacher from Germany starts with a bangup three club start, all very smooth. His choreography with his superb music is great -- I can't even begin to describe his tricks, which come on relentlessly, hardly giving you a chance to catch your breath. He did have some drops in his numbers, though. Three clubs with a nose balance, drop into four, four club shower, a stylish flash of six, four rings, three in one hand while spinning one in the other, four with pancakes, pirouette, five with half pirouette, three up pirouette, then a perfect pulldown. Flash of seven with a drop on the pulldown, freemount to giraffe uni, five rings then a flash of seven to a perfect pulldown. A very clean routine!

Jeff and Mick of the Dew Drop Jugglers start their six club passing with synchonized tricks to Dire Straits "Money for Nothing." To seven doubles, then each take turns doing four, to seven singles, back to back, then nine in triples (with a painful drop as they collect). Two diabolos in synch, passing diabolos, then they pass the sticks! Then three diabolos in a cascade pattern (oh, but too many drops). Each do two diabolos, attempt to pass the four but miss it. They seem to be enjoying themselves, though.

Brian Patz comes out for his senior performance in a coat, tie and fedora to snappy big band music. Three clubs, clean triples, he's running all over! The most vicious chops I've ever seen, cool flourishes, drop a forehead balance into four, five clubs with under the leg throws flawlessly, five rings with twirly catches, pancakes, to pulldown, flash seven to pulldown. Then a smokin' cigar box routine, fancy footwork, and a full pirouette to end it. The crowd loves him!

The emcees announce that, yes, indeed, there will actually be both sound AND lights at the Midnight Show tonight, so don't miss it! (turns out the guy who was supposed to bring the boombox heard the announcement, figured that they had it under control and didn't need him, so he didn't show. You got it. No sound).

Another team, The Stoolies, arrive in ties and spats to start with five balls, passing one "live" ball between them while taking turns stealing their main prop (how'd you know?). Big pratfalls to big band music. Lots of ball bouncing, physical comedy, a five ball bounce with steals and returns, bouncing off stool -- the most creative use of a prop yet.

Bill Giduz presents plaques to Todd Smith and Steve Healy for their support of the successful World Juggling Day. He announces that Todd has doubled his pledge to $5,000 for next year, and doubled that again to $10,000 for Millenial World Juggling Day! (I hope next year he gets a golden pass that earns him entry to every IJA event for the rest of his life).

Ah, here's one of the names I've been waiting for. Senior Dana Tison does his Raiders of the Lost Arc theme. Robby Weinstein has a guest role as the native that gets shot down. Dana climbs the Alphabet Board of Death (his feet hit the letters that spell "Juggle") to a Tiki shrine, where his prize awaits... five balls! He sheds his leather jacket and fedora, and goes into a five ball routine. Shower to behind the back catch, 5 ball Mills Mess, tries a double pirouette and drops (quickly throws a snake at the judges to distract them!), seven balls -- then chases off a native who drops a basket full of rings. Spins two in one hand while juggling three in the other, four, then 5, half then full pirouettes each twice, overheads, pancakes, 6, then 7 to a pulldown. Shoots yet another native brandishing a machete to win three clubs. Flats, kickup to 4, singles in split columns, pirouettes and behind the back catch, 5 clubs singles, 3 up full pirouette, back crosses, then a nine ring flash to a pulldown on the first try! Katja's big blue globe then chases him off the stage to thunderous applause.

David Deeble makes an appearance in mask, whip and shaker cups as the world's most annoying juggler, El Tomaté (he ends up yelling, "Pull me off! Pull me off!" as the stage hand forgets his cue -- he becomes the world's most annoyed juggler, which was even funnier).

The Flying Monkeys, Eric and Vince, open with a six club passing routing to My Schirona. Eric is having a bad night, lots of drops on easy tricks. Some funny, inventive stuff. Vince stops the action to dig out a booger: "That's been bothering me the whole time." Seven then kickup to eight (they drop on the kickup, and Vince throws a $20 to the judges). Then they get to the good stuff -- the stage is lit by blacklights and they do a club swinging routine with clubs decorated with glow tape. Their choreography is great, the effect is really beautiful. What a payoff.

Senior Rob Frischa is back with a new persona from his previous squeaky clean juniors character. He's now a homeboy juggler, 7 rings to three clubs, then four, some drops but quick recoveries. Four club backcrosses, then with five (got it the second time), five balls to seven. Six rings to four body stashes, back to 6 then a pulldown. Nothing earthshaking but he did a good job.

Back to teams with Raising Cain, David and Scott Cain. Another MIB theme, even with a MIB poster behind them. They begin by juggling then shooting down a box of aliens, then go to passing six with synchronous tricks, including a chin balance and bat to the other (looked very cool). Alien balloon delivers the seventh club, with under the leg and behind the back throws, multiplexing, each flash four then back to pattern. I've never seen this many tricks in seven! Then 8, singles to doubles, over the shoulder throws. Their sign transforms from MIB to Men goIng Bald, then they successfully pass and collect nine! YOW -- an incredible act.

Introduced as "Mr. Warmth," Jason Garfield takes the stage. He starts with four balls with a pirouette, then 4 in a shower and pirouette, four overhead, behind the back, under the leg. Five balls, half pirouettes then full under 3 balls, then a very clean 5 overhead, a pirouette under 5 then a double pirouette under 5 then 4! He's making me dizzy... kickup to six, a 3-6 shower, to 7 perfectly. Five rings, a few drops on pirouettes, to six, more pirouettes under columns then a pulldown finish. Seven to a perfect pulldown. Three clubs to some great music, flashy, balances, pirouettes (of course), flats, continuous under-the-leg-over-the-shoulder throws, overhead doubles, his choreography is nailed right on. Continuous back crosses with four, singles, simultaneous nose and chin balances, split columns, kickup to four while holding a chin balance with singles, then drop into five, continuous backcrosses and a perfect finish. He keeps coming back to the same pose (sort of "Ta-Daaa!"), but he's absolutely nailed it tonight. We all know he's got the gold in his pocket.

Then we are absolutely blown away. Four teenagers from Quebec called Le Tourisk just grab us and shake us silly. These four wander onto the stage in costumes (and in character) of something mixed between an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical and Alice in Wonderland -- sort of curious forest creatures in elven clothing, making odd little faces the whole time. They tumble into a three-man high shoulder stand (yes, they do!), man in middle and on top pass with the free man on the ground. The three fall like a tree to the ground (on a mat). They begin an outrageous weave feed, to a line, to a Y, into showers. Then we have two sets of two men up on shoulders -- the two top pass with each other, the two bottom do the same. Then they pass top-to-bottom feeds. Four down again, more weaves, a back-to-back box, walking into a regular box. Two move into the middle of the pattern, pulling steals with somersaults and leapfrogs, then eight clubs between pairs, and 16 club passing pattern, 16 club box, to a line, to a Y. Then they bring out (I'm guessing here...) six and twelve foot unicycles. One guy on the taller one, two guys stacked on the shorter. Then all four feed to all the others in an amazing pattern (the guy on the ground is doing "backdrops" to the guy up on the tallest uni!). Just mindblowing. They get not only one, but two standing ovations, while they moue and gawp at us, still in character.

If for nothing else, you will buy the competition video just to see these guys.

The judges move out to deliberate, and we are treated to Clockwork at their best. They do their portrait routine and the flowerpots (though Jack's homemade table nearly steals that part of the show). A team that didn't make the finals does their act: Diabolic Sights, by Edge & Olé, featuring bungee diabolos (the racks filled with bungee cords are later set up in the gym for further analysis and fooling with). David Deeble comes back with a lounge lizard act featuring smooth cigarette and coin magic (ending with a bang).

The results are announced:

Juniors: Mike Roberts, Bronze; Luke Jay, Silver; Jeff Civilico, Gold

Seniors: Brian Patz, Bronze; Dana Tison, Silver; Jason Garfield, Gold

Teams: Redefining Gravity, Bronze; Raising Cain, Silver; Le Tourisk, Gold

Talking with the judges right after, I discover that one of them wanted to place Le Tourisk fourth (he felt that they really didn't do much in the way of juggling -- entertainment, yes. Tumbling, yes. Juggling, no). The other judges convinced him quickly that he wouldn't survive the night if he stuck to that placement, and he relented.

The Midnight Show, due to sound problems and a missing emcee, is late once again. At 1:15 a.m., Dr. Stardust gets things rolling finally. My notetaking is beginning to deteriorate due to lack of sleep, but there were some memorable moments.

Early on, Terry the Great does a recap of his own routine from competitions -- the diabolo part, but with no string or diabolo. He leaps and cavorts all over the stage, then suddenly in the middle of a tremendous jeté, he comes to earth, cradling his left arm. It turns out he's dislocated his left shoulder (the Official Injury of the Primm Festival) and has to go to a Vegas emergency room to be relocated. It brings a somber note to the event.

The Demusios return with more good stuff, Jake brings his cut-in-prelims Junior cross-dressing juggler act to the stage, and Vladik's uncle (he's a professional clown) does a very funny act (though he winds up humiliating a volunteer who won't play along, sadly). Dr. Stardust does some of his organic chemistry for us. Yarov does a mesmerizing act including contact juggling, five balls, bouncing -- very beautiful with an international flavor. I hope we see him in juniors next year. Matt from Seattle concludes the show with another beautiful, very serene 3 ball routine. The jarring note created by Terry's freakish injury is soothed and we leave peacefully.

I head back to the gym to pass clubs with assistant workshop coordinator Eric Cumberland, who has just won $100 at the slots. I watch the current game of fieldball, consider playing, and decide I'd rather go home uninjured. Again I join the circle of performers telling stories (Jon Wee tells of actually making a woman wee during a show -- and David Deeble's impression of The Queen just about makes everyone else wee). Mort leaves to gallantly take Terry to the hospital. We adjourn to the buffet in my hotel for ballast at about 4 a.m. (hey! no lines!), where we meet up with Jason (we insist he eat with us, and he deadpans, "I'm touched by the warmth of you people." He keeps up his dry wit and parries further jabs skillfully). I get points by being able to reread verbatim Clockwork's top ten list from the show. In bed by 6 a.m. -- now I'm operating on pretty low batteries.

I decide that a braiding/massage/snack booth would make me a millionaire, but I discard the idea due to the lack of time to juggle.

Primm Diary: Day 5 (and 6 -- home again)

Not too long after I tumble into bed, a group of hardy souls brave the rising temperatures to hold the joggling competitions. Just about all of them earn gold medals, and rightly so.

The next morning, my roommate scores a free wristband that allows him to ride the casino's theme park rides all day (roller coaster, water flume, and Turbo Drop, a bungee based thing). He also gets to see a full length movie, visit the motion simulator theaters, and is in heaven. I give him pizza money, and he's off.

At the gym, Terry is spotted with a smile and a shoulder harness. He's been showing off his one-armed diabolo tricks. I hang out at Todd Smith's booth to get a good seat for the Club Gathering competition (I think Martin won it, with forty-something clubs). Tim Kelly wins the gold in the three-ball open, and (surprise) Vladik wins the five-club endurance.

I decide to attend Charlie Frye's "Eccentric Juggling & Sleight of Hand" workshop, which is very well attended and appreciated. The stupid emergency lights start going off again, and Butterfly Man winds a few yards of electrical tape around it.

I buy a new prop bag and some other goodies to take home, gather some names and addresses, and wander over with Mort to visit the new mall. It's bloody huge, with live mannequins scattered about. Unnerving. I want to fetch David Deeble and have him try to crack them up. Not many food boothes are open yet, darnit -- but we make do with some pretzels and lemonade. Giant kendamas in vanilla and chocolate are sighted back in the gym. I juggle for a while with some local California folks.

Bill Giduz collects the votes for the People's Choice award, and we head off to a coffeeshop with Tripp Holmgrain, his wife, and another fellow to count up the votes and eat before the European Show tonight.

The European Showcase is short but sweet. Bald seems to be the fashion (or major spikies). We open with a killer giant kendama act -- literally, the guy acts like the kendama is trying to truss him up (Ezec Le Floc'h from France). Later he returns to show his absolute mastery of the prop -- but lampooning himself first works well.

Laurent Pareti from France does a lovely slow motion club routine. I love it. The control is fantastic, and it's one of my favorite bits of the evening.

Dane Mads Rosenbeck's clown does surreal things with his big coat and clubs to somber cello music (in his photo in the schedule, he appears to have a noose around his neck -- not exactly your run-of-the-mill Ringling clown!).

Tim Roberts, the host of the evening (and mastermind behind the event) comes out with a heartfelt "Thank You" to ABC for broadcasting the World Cup (70% of the performers are French). He is slowly tied up by Jean-Paul le Feure, a Frenchman in briefs who dances with a bicycle wheel (later, I hear that Jack Kalvan whispers to David Deeble, "Have you had this dream?").

Marc Dehout (Belgium) and Benji Bernard (France) dance around their desert-island set as earthtone clowns, mixing club passing and gymnastics most skillfully.

Jeremy James from Ireland does a beautiful routine with rings under blacklights.

Everyone except Jeremy returns in some sort of reprise, then Tim returns with more factoids. Mads in his big coat comes back again, kendama guy swipes it, things get surreal again. Mads does a club routine, including a pretty amazing series of balances in a three club cascade, running from his toe all the way up to his forehead. Then some four and five club things, ending with his coat thrown back in a pile and him pitching his shoes at it. Hey, I didn't say I understood it!

Thomas Ledoze and Sylvain Cousin (both from France) do a syncopated club swinging dance, sort of in a chant mode. They do a beautiful geometric dance and club routine.

Kendama and Wheel approach each other with their props -- a synergy is reached, and they exit. Cute.

The final act is one of the strongest -- a masked Gerald Cibola (France) in a long red skirt begins his diabolo routine with no sticks -- his string is tied directly to his fingers. It looks magical and playful, like he's using kinetic telepathy to levitate the thing. Then he moves to two diabolos with handsticks, doing stuff I've never seen in the gym. He manages to get the crowd to its feet, and the ensemble after being introduced receives another standing ovation. But the show is over too fast, and we feel a little empty at the end.

Maybe it's just our brash and uncultured American sensibilities, but it felt like the "odd" stuff was too similar -- kendama, clubs, coat, diabolo, skirts and wheel all sort of blended together into a mush. Not so much what they were doing -- it all was inventive and creative, clearly different from other performances at the fest. But their demeanor, the facial expressions, the bald heads and bare torsos, the lack of any vocalization, the way they merged in and out of each other's acts -- all served to bring a uniformity (possibly unintended) to the performance.

As I leave the showroom, activity appears in the region of the bar (which, after the opening night show, has been closed). Unfortunately, I don't stick around to see what it is...

On the monorail ride back, Bob Nickerson is expounding on why jugglers don't make the big time. It's a little depressing, but I can't find the wits to argue with him even though I'd like to.

Back in the gym, the water jugs are dry (and have been for most of the afternoon and evening). Leslyn and I sneak into that kitchen I found earlier in the week and surreptitiously fill and deploy as many pitchers of water as we can carry -- we are hailed as angels of mercy. We instruct others in the art of inconspicuous water bearing.

In my foolish unslept state, I hatch a wild plan to get Rick to the airport early the next morning -- we will leave about 4:30 a.m.

Les, Karl and I practice three count feeding to prepare for an attempt at Hovey's Nightmare (a triangle of three count feeders). We attempt it.

We decide to head back for the midnight show, and although as usual the monorail is down, we are pleasantly surprised by a shuttle bus waiting for us (it's been running all along, but it comes along about every half-hour and usually I can walk the distance faster). As we enter the showroom, we are again surprised by the results of the activity I spotted in the bar -- apparently the festival popped for some grub for the participants. Only those who stayed after the Euro show got to indulge -- by the time we got back, there was a few rolls and bits of roast beast with some garnish and mayo on the side. I make a lettuce sandwich and settle down for the show.

Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles! The midnight stage has sound and lights! It looks to be the biggest late night show audience yet -- no wonder, I saw some familiar names on the sign-up sheet earlier this evening.

David Deeble is our emcee for tonight's show, which in the fashion of the other shows is starting after 12:30 a.m. John O'Brian reprises his earlier tap dance stuff to an appreciative crowd, then we are treated to a 10-second spoof of the Euro show: "Cirque du Callback." I recognize Chuck Williams in briefs but I don't know the other two...

Deeble presents the Rastelli Award (People's Choice) -- he also reads the list of all the folks who were nominated, which is a roster of honor for those who made it (you had to inspire somebody during the fest). It is no big newsflash to hear that Le Tourisk won it, although none of them are at the show to receive it (and, as far as I know, none of them have spent much time mixing with us at all -- I wonder if they feel like they are members of this group at all).

Drew Bob, the "Tiger Woods of rings," is up with his flurry of three-ring tricks. He looks utterly unflappable as he goes through them.

Sabina, the singing German, is back with "Cabarat" rewritten to include the IJA. She's much more bearable this time around.

Adam Zeisler is back in his two-tone pajama pants and matching jester hat, doing his free form three-ball riff.

The Dislocated Duo, Terry Wells and Dave Hussey, come out topless (except for their stylin' shoulder harnesses) and between them do a nice three-ball routine -- Terry even gives us a bit of three-in-one-hand. They are well applauded.

Katja Ignatov does a painful reprise of her opening night act, complete with drops. She does get her flash of 8 rings on the first try.

Erin and friend come up to deliver the Second Annual Clubhead Award (an inverted American club is drilled and inset with Mr. Potato Head pieces). Last year it was awarded to the Best Vest of the Fest -- this year, they go for the Best Dressed of the Fest. She points out that Clubhead's dapper bow tie really doesn't capture the essence of the recipient -- can her friend do something to make the award resemble him better? He promptly rips off the left arm, and we know... Terry Wells will go home with a prize, after all!

Next up is The Great Balldini, the fellow with the two giant kendamas. He does one, the other, then both simultaneously. Deeble follows up with his custom balloon kendama.

Now we have what I think is the best act of tonight's Midnight Show. Jason Garfield comes out in a coat, looking dapper. He offers to let us hear him play the piano -- and puts a tiny tape recorder up to his lapel mike. Five seconds of ragtime, then he hands it to Peggy: "Here. You're not doing anything." He does a long, chatty, witty bit on "tricks I shouldn't have done last night" (yeah, I know -- the words "chatty" and "Jason Garfield" aren't supposed to be in the same paragraph). Then he goes over the tricks he muffed in competitions. He also adds in a bunch of tricks he took out of the act, lots of chin balances, etc. He leans forward into continuous Alberts: "You've seen this crap before, right?" He bobbles five clubs: "What the hell?...Jesus Christ!" -- saves the pattern, then stops it: "I think that was pretty good right there, hmm?" He handles a heckler with no mercy. I wish I could read my notes better because there was some pretty wild stuff there. He ends up doing five clubs and throws in headrolls. His audience, who was preparing to like him from the start, loves him now. Keep it up, Jason!

Sean and Dave (not the opening night comedy team), who gained infamy last year with their razor diabolo, reprise the fest in a madcap flurry of activity -- another imitation of Clockwork (this time with more fragile styrofoam cups that are soon in bits all over), numchucks, and more. They're pretty bad and they know it. They wrap up with another attempt at their razor diabolo trick -- only this time, with safety razors.

Peggy Reuss does a beautiful sign language interpretation of the hard-edged lament, "Shadow Boxer."

Juniors silver medalist Luke Jay does a ring routine to some punkish music. He's rattled, lots of drops, but after many tries he nails his closing move -- a flash of eight with pulldown.

Somebody gets on stage and asks everyone to say "hi, Amanda!" into his tape recorder for his girlfriend at home. Most comply, with a group behind me who hollers "Wheel...Of...Fortune!" instead (there, now she has a better audio sense of the fest).

An old Davisite and all around good guy, Steve Healy, is up next. I've been bugging him about doing his basketball routine all week, and apparently other folks have too because he does it. Three basketballs in all sorts of three ball tricks, including Mills Mess! With unneeded volunteers placed to catch runaways, he bounces five on the first try. It's a great trick, and well rewarded by the crowd.

Our closing act is known only as Samvel, the Armenian Hat Guy. He starts with a quick and fast three club routine, then he gets down to business with his collection of silver-spangled bowlers. He does three in all sorts of patterns, including 3 in one hand. The four, with a half pirouette, then two up with a somersault underneath. Five, and then six hats soar above the stage. He's good! And it's a great finish to the best Midnight Show all week.

And, for my last trip back across the freeway, I walk back with some friends from Mendocino county. It's a mix between bittersweet, looniness, and irritation.

After installing the boy in bed, I head back to the gym. Dan Bennett is working on his samurai plunger act -- something I'm told he rarely does in public. I try to be properly impressed, but I'm feeling pretty punchy.

I finally join in a game of Fieldball. There's a circle of folks playing the "geriatric version" so Dave Hussey can participate. This is way more fun than Volleyclub, I think, and we while away the next hour or so. Steve Healy joins in and prove himself a natural (alas, I am not -- though everyone is pretty nice about letting me try to catch the ball once in a while).

A quick wander through the gym -- it's my last visit here. Most folks have already packed up, but the circle in the corner is still there. Dave Deeble and Peggy are playing "You Don't Know Jack" on somebody's laptop. I say my goodbyes and find the car I'm chaffeuring in.

At about 5 a.m., we find everyone -- it turns out that we're going to pack five people and a bunch of luggage in Les and Bill's little Dodge Shadow (with no A/C, but it's just before dawn and the temperature is bearable). We manage to pack us all in -- Rick, Ben from Toronto, a Japanese fellow, myself, and Laura (one of the Beaver Falls twins) to keep me company on the way back.

As we make our way into Vegas, we watch the sunrise over the desert. It's really beautiful, though already it's getting hot. We find the airport without too much trouble and drop the passengers. The ride back goes quickly, the giddiness is dispelling. I fill the tank and stagger back to the room. After jamming everything into the new prop bag (what a great purchase!), I fall into bed for two hours.

We're up in time to catch the shuttle to the airport. My feet have little fissures from the dry air (and dehydration, no doubt) and hurt like hell. Chapped lips, headache, bruises, hot & sweaty as we wait in the van for our driver -- every seat is filled and we find room to shoehorn in one more (Eric, a Flying Monkey) at the last minute. The ride to the airport is long but filled with slow but happy conversation. We're all exhausted and filled with our experiences here this week.

The return flight is a blur. Inexplicably, I can't sleep. My mind is rattling with images and phrases, patterns and faces from the festival. I finally crash when I get home, and sleep for the better part of two days.

Writing this diary has been a lot of fun. I've had a chance to remember things I'm sure would have slipped away otherwise. Thanks to those who have chosen to share this journey with me -- I only wish you could have been there to write your own version. I'm going to try my best to make it to Niagara. . . maybe we will meet there.

Juggle on!