My Father the Clown
Glen “Frosty” Little
Glen “Frosty” Little is among America’s greatest whiteface clowns. Born in Genoa, Nebraska, in 1925, Little began his career with the Joe King Circus in Colorado in 1956. In 1968, he joined the first class of Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College. He served as Boss Clown for Ringling for decades, eventually becoming director of clowns. In 1983, he was named Master Clown, one of only four clowns to hold that honor. He had two daughters, Tawnya and Roxanne. He died in 2010 at age eighty-four.
when i was born, in 1951, my dad was working at the post office in Denver, Colorado. Before that he had served in the navy during World War II. But ever since he was a little boy growing up in Genoa, Nebraska, he wanted to be a clown. He had seen the circus when he was seven years old and had instantly fallen in love with the white-faced, red-nosed, kindhearted clowns.
When I was eight, my father and I began to dedicate our nights and weekends to clowning and performing. I was his sidekick, and I adored him. Every night after I did my homework, we would practice our juggling routines and new gags he had created for us to perform at our upcoming shows. Like most clowns, he was very serious when it came to the quality of his work and was a stickler down to the last detail. (In Dad’s case, his fastidiousness didn’t just apply to work, either. He’d fine me a nickel every time I left the toilet lid up! I learned very quickly not to do that.)
We would juggle Indian clubs, balls, and the like back and forth, but I was primarily the puppeteer. We had an interactive puppet show. Dad would be out with the crowd, and I was the one behind the curtain. Our show was so fun that it entertained not only children but adults as well. Over the course of a few years, we performed at hundreds of birthday parties and major entertainment venues throughout the Denver metropolitan area.
Working beside my father was a wonderful experience, and I marveled at how seamless my dad’s show always was and how much he loved performing. He was a naturally gifted storyteller and a very charismatic man. He could convince a room full of kids that a length of rope on the floor was, in fact, a tightrope wire hundreds of feet in the air inside a circus arena. Kids would screw their faces up in intense concentration as they tried to walk on it, while others would cheer them on, and they would want to try it again immediately if they fell off.
Well before he became a famous clown, my dad was deeply devoted to being a great clown. I remember watching him apply his face makeup again and again, trying to come up with the perfect look. He told me that a clown’s face is the most integral part of his costume. Dad always wanted to be a whiteface clown, in the tradition of Pierrot, rather than a hobo clown like his friend Emmett Kelly or a buffoon clown like Lou Jacobs. He’s a sympathetic character but not a pathetic one.
When I was about eleven years old, Dad got a full-time job as a clown at Elitch Gardens, an amusement park in Denver. People would come from all over the country to dance at the famous Trocadero Ballroom, and there was my dad in his element, entertaining them. I even got to be part of his show with my own clown makeup, clown costume, and some gags. By that time, I had been performing with my dad for several years, and I loved it. Dad was demanding, sure, but that was because he cared that he presented perfection to the audience.
Everything changed for our family in 1968, when I was seventeen. That’s when the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus announced that they were starting a clown college in Sarasota, Florida. I don’t think there was ever a question as to whether Dad would go. It had been his lifelong dream to be a clown for Ringling, and here was his chance. Before he left, I remember him sitting me down and telling me that he was moving and Mom and I weren’t. (My mom, who for years had coordinated our shows in Denver, decided that she did not want a circus life, and my parents divorced.) But at that age, rather than being overcome with sadness, I just thought it sounded cool that my dad was joining the circus. “When am I coming to visit?” I asked. As it turned out, Dad was on the road so much that there wasn’t a lot of time.
It was at the college that my dad found his perfect clown face and character. His dream had come true. After two years, Dad graduated and quickly became Boss Clown. Between touring the entire country with both Ringling units—there were two, the Red and the Blue, with their own trains and crews—and his growing responsibility, it was hard to keep in touch. I did get to visit him at the circus on different occasions on the road and could see that he expected the same quality of performance from his circus clowns as he had from me. Before each performance, he’d do a line-walk with them. “This wig looks sloppy!” “Take care of those shoes!” “Fix that makeup!” He ran Clown Alley as a tight unit, and the result was that his clowns were the best in the business.
“Frosty” and Tawnya, 1973
In 1972, Dad remarried and continued performing with the circus, traveling with his second wife, Pat, in a camper with the train for years. In 1983, he was named a Master Clown. There was a ceremony in Washington, DC. It was a big deal. There have been only four Master Clowns in the history of Ringling. The Feld brothers, who owned the circus, inducted him. All of his friends were there in full clown makeup. Dad wore his makeup, too, and his costume—his small pointed red hat, a baggy red flannel suit, and oversize shoes. I think he was very moved and proud.
Over the years, I’ve thought a lot about my dad. The day clown college opened, the circus gained a Master Clown, but I was no longer his sidekick. Although I was not with him much after he joined the circus, I am proud to be Frosty Little’s daughter. Clowning was what he was born to do. It was and always had been his dream, and I’m happy that he not only pursued that dream but also excelled at what he did.
I enjoyed every second of performing with him when I was young. Those years built a bond between us that could never be dissolved. Later, I watched as he touched the lives of thousands of people, and even from afar, I could feel his love.
Toward the end of his life, Dad developed Alzheimer’s; the last time I saw him, in 2010, I was very sad that he no longer recognized me. For the most part, he was living again as if he was a boy. He was dreaming of the circus.