Editor’s note: Joseph Wettengel is a Lawrence resident who worked a day for the circus in the mid-1960s. This is his story of that day:

As I sat I my classroom at East Heights School, I was fidgety. On this warm spring day the windows were open, and the teacher’s voice seemed to be lost in the whistlin’ wind. It was hard to concentrate on my studies. School was almost out for the summer, and besides, the circus was in town!

After dinner, there was a knock at the door. It was my friend Ted, who lived across the street on Cadet Avenue. He and I were about 12. We headed up the street to my grandparents’ house. They were good sports and offered to take us to the circus, which was on the other side of town.

From east Lawrence, we drove all the way to West Sixth Street. We passed the Sunset Drive Inn, which was torn down years ago. In those days, the mid-1960s, this was the western edge of town. The circus was set up in a field, about where Sixth Street and Kasold Drive now is located.

As we entered the big top, the smell of popcorn filled the air. Pink fluffs of cotton candy melted on tips of tiny tongues. A variety of animals were on display in cages, so the four of us decided to take a look. There were some monkeys and various kinds of wildcats. There also was a big gorilla. Frowning, he looked bored as he sat in the corner of his cage, those muscular arms folded. I got the impression that we were more impressed with him than he was with us.

It was time to take our seats on the bleachers near the center ring. A lion tamer stood in a cage, his big cats perched on stools all around him. With the crack of a whip, the lions leapt to the ground and circled the ring several times before returning to their stools. The man commanded the cats to jump through some flaming hoops. One lion snarled at his trainer. Seeing those long fangs made me glad I was OUTSIDE the cage! The man opened a door and shooed the lions down a tunnel, where they disappeared behind the curtain. He took a bow as the audience applauded.

Suddenly, three or four elephants seemed to come out of nowhere. They did some tricks, then rumbled around the ring a few times before departing. There were several more acts, including some silly clowns, and then the show was over.

A big, burly ringmaster stood before the crowd, wearing a fancy suit and tie. He thanked the audience for coming. Then he pulled a large wad of dollar bills from his pocket and held it high in the air.

“If any kids would like to stay and help pack up our stuff, you can each earn a crisp, new dollar bill,” he barked into the microphone. “We have to move on to another town in the morning.”

This was an offer Ted and I couldn’t refuse. After all, a dollar would buy a ticket to the movies, with change left over. I looked at Gramp. He gave me a wink, so I knew it was OK.

As the crowd began to leave, my grandparents stepped outside for some fresh air. About 20 kids stayed to help. A foreman began assigning chores. Ted and I had to carry planks from the bleachers, and take them through an opening, where circus workers loaded them into a semi. Other kids moved items such as folding chairs.

On the far side of the tent, they were already beginning to take down the big-top. Even the elephants were hard at work. Using their powerful trunks, these elephants carried the long, wooden support poles that held up the tent. Their elderly trainer kept an eye on them, but they knew what to do as they hauled the poles to another truck. Us kids had to stay out of harm’s way when one of these giants passed by.

It was hot and stuffy, and Ted and I were getting tired. The trainer must’ve seen me wipe my brow.

“I think we need a break,” he said, pointing to some chairs. The elephants stood nearby, slowly flapping their huge ears to cool themselves. When they exhaled through their trunks, it stirred up a cloud of dust around their feet.

“Say, let me tell you boys a secret,” the man said. “Did you know that if a kid got a baby elephant, and he picked it up every day, he could still pick up that elephant when it’s full-grown. You see, the elephant would get a little bigger every day, but the kid would get stronger every day.”

As Ted and I scratched our heads and contemplated this amazing theory, I wished I could get a baby elephant. But the fence surrounding my backyard could barely contain Betsy, our beagle, let alone an elephant.

It was time to get back to work. The trainer and his elephants resumed their chores, as did Ted and I. Before long, we were finished. The ringmaster was a man of his word as he began handing out dollar bills. We collected our wages, then located my grandparents.

It was very late when we got home that night. I was glad I didn’t have homework.

“See ya at school tomorrow, Joey,” Ted said before heading toward his house. We couldn’t wait to tell our classmates about the night’s adventures!

I was soon in my room getting ready for bed.

“Now I know what grown-ups mean when they talk about a hard-earned dollar,” I thought as I pulled the bill from my pocket, unfolded it, and proudly placed it on my dresser.