THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, February 24, 1995 TAG: 9502240577
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY KERRY DOUGHERTY, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: NORFOLK LENGTH: Medium: 66 lines
In center ring on Thursday night, Eric Keplar learned the ugly truth: it's easier to get into an Ivy League school than Clown College.
Keplar, 20, was one of nine clown hopefuls who showed up at Scope to audition for a spot in Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey's exclusive clown training ground. The eight-week school in Wisconsin accepts just 30 students each year, and alumni are not guaranteed jobs with the circus. However, about half of them wind up in the Greatest Show on Earth.
Keplar's chances of being accepted to a school where he doesn't pay tuition and can major in stilts, unicycle and fright wigs are about one in 100.
Things were looking good for him during the warm-up exercise, which was lead by several certified circus clowns in full makeup. There were neck rolls and shoulder rolls - Keplar was fine so far. But he had some trouble when it came to stretching to the right and left. He seemed confused, reaching for the right when the other clown candidates were reaching left, bending left when they were leaning right.
Maybe it was part of his shtick.
The pony-tailed Kempsville High School graduate, who now attends Tidewater Community College, admitted he was nervous trying to impress the circus people with his funny side.
``I wasn't nervous. I was very, very nervous,'' he said.
First there were the physical tests like running, walking with an ``attitude'' and knowing right from left. Then there were the pantomimes in which the candidates had to pretend to step in chewing gum and eat an apple with a worm in it. There were emotional tests when they had to laugh, cry and act scared on cue.
Auditions for Clown College are held in every city the circus visits. Unfortunately for Keplar and his fellow applicants, Norfolk is not known as fertile territory.
``Let's see,'' said Clown College Director Dick Monday. ``Boston, now that's a real clown town. So is Chicago and San Francisco.''
For more than an hour, the eight men and one woman did pratfalls, flips and stunts - all in street clothes, enveloped in the unmistakable aroma of elephants.
``You have no idea how hard it is to do what these guys are doing,'' said Edzui Szumowski (his real name, not his clown name), who auditioned five times before being accepted to the college.
Today's crop of applicants should learn their fate in June.
The six-page application form makes filling out a tax return look easy. The circus wants to know if the applicants are claustrophobic, wants to know their worst phobia and when they last cried. One of the candidates, Teli Cardaci of Onancock, already knew he wouldn't be accepted this year. At 16, he's two years too young.
``I plan to try out every year; this is just for experience,'' said the high school sophomore, whose mother drove him to the audition.
During one propless pantomime, Cardaci juggled his own shoes.
``I love clowning,'' he said wistfully. ``My only dream is to be in the circus someday.'' ILLUSTRATION: [Color Photo]
MARTIN SMITH-RODDEN/Staff
From left, Richard Kirsch, Teli Cardaci and Libby Krimsier pretend
to laugh at a funny movie.
by CNB