Organized chaos and the 3-ring circus

By Russell Working

The great circuses of yesteryear were eye-popping explosions of wonder, equestrians and trapeze artists and dancing bears and seal musicians and human cannonballs and ski-jumping jalopies and reenactments of medieval Crusades.

From the perspective of audiences, it was too much to take in. No wonder the term “circus”—and later “three-ring circus”—came to be a synonym for “a disturbance or uproar; a lively or noisy display” and “a scene of confusion or disorder,” per The Oxford English Dictionary.

For showmen, however, this use rankles. They know the logistics necessary to stage, pack up, transport, house, and feed a show involving thousands of humans and animals every day.

“In recent years,” Ivan M. Henry notes at The Circus Blog, “the term ‘circus’ but particularly ‘three-ring-circus’ has, I believe inaccurately, been identified with chaos, confusion, frivolity and excess. But if you have ever had the privilege to work on or with a circus, you would know that the show is entirely about organization, skill and absolute precision. There is nothing confusing about the show itself, only the lack of focus by the patron who wants to see all the action in all the rings at once, rather than focusing on the individual accomplishments in each.”

‘Thicker than bees’

One can hardly blame the patron for not knowing which way to look in the colossal shows of the past. And the metaphor itself is not so recent. The OED’s first citation of “circus” as a synonym for chaos is from 1869, when Mark Twain wrote in Innocents Abroad that Constantinople “was an eternal circus.”

“People were thicker than bees in those narrow streets,” he wrote, “and the men were dressed in all the outrageous, outlandish, idolatrous, extravagant, thunder-and-lightning costumes that ever a tailor with the delirium tremens and seven devils could conceive of.”

By 1896, as the great tent shows grew, the term of choice became “three-ring circus.” Benjamin S. Miller described seeing cowboys wrangle forty thousand head of cattle in his book Ranch Life in Southern Kansas and the Indian Territory, as Told by a Novice. “Viewed from an eminence,” he states, “it was a great sight, and as wearying to the eye as a three-ring circus.”

Henry notes that both the U.S. and foreign armies were fascinated by the circus not because of the apparent chaos, but the underlying order and discipline. “Why do you think the U.S. military would watch the coordination of train and truck shows for valuable insight into the speed and coordination of loading, unloading and set-up of gear, animals, equipment and performers?” he writes.

All true, but for audiences viewing the three-ring spectacles, it’s no wonder they took away the impression of bedazzling chaos.

For more about my novel manuscript, The Elephant Box, click here. Why a circus blog? Learn more here.