THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1997, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, February 17, 1997 TAG: 9702150050
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY ROY A. BAHLS, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: 162 lines
SOME THINGS just never change.
Although the canvas canopy of the big top circus tent has been replaced by the cement ceilings of giant arenas, the lure remains.
When the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus opens at Norfolk's Scope on Tuesday, children of all ages will be looking for the same thing they've sought from the show's past 126 years: Drama, danger, gasps and giggles.
And while the performers sometimes look more like Vegas than P.T. Barnum, the circus still has a way of attracting performers looking for a life in the spotlight. A LOCAL DANCER FINALLY GETS HER CHANCE TO BE IN SPOTLIGHT
Take Ameera Matheny. A year ago, she bounded from her life as a dance teacher and Norfolk State University psych major to center ring at The Greatest Show on Earth. In a dizzying array of costume changes, the dancer each night becomes a rhinestone-crusted angel, an Egyptian goddess, a leather-clad biker and more.
``It was the spotlight,'' Matheny said last week during the show's stop at the Richmond Coliseum. She was perched in the stands above the three rings two hours before show time.
``When I was younger, my mom took us to Ringling Bros., basketball games and gymnastic meets. Every type of performance I went to, I wanted to do. No matter what it was. If we went to a basketball game, the next day I would ask my mom to buy me a basketball. When I saw people playing guitars I asked her to buy me one. I always promised that it would make me famous and I'd pay back every cent.
``So I guess, since I was young, I've always wanted to be in the spotlight. I didn't really know what I wanted to do, but I knew I wanted to be looked at as a star.''
Matheny, 24, now has that spotlight aimed at her.
``Dancers have the role of introducing acts and ending acts,'' Matheny said, watching a group of inline skaters practice their jumps and basketball players on unicycles aim for a hoop.
Across the arena, a worker was sweeping up a glittering pile of sawdust and sequins.
``We are a very vital part of the circus.''
It was only last year that Matheny joined the show. Before that, she studied dance at Pittsburgh High School for the Creative and Performing Arts. Then she majored in psychology at Norfolk State University, where she continued to study dance.
``I always liked to dance,'' she said, ``but I never before thought of making it a career.''
She was teaching dance at Greenhill Farms Academy in Norfolk when she got her shot at joining the circus.
``Every year the entire school goes to the circus,'' she said. ``There was an ongoing joke the teachers were telling the students, `Oh, you're going to see Miss Ameera dancing there next year.' ''
So last February, while attending a matinee performance with the school, she talked to a circus representative during intermission.
``He came over to me and told me, `We have auditions today at 4 p.m.' It was a stroke of luck for me.''
Although living on a train and being on the road for 11 months out of the year took some adjusting, she loves it.
``We are all one big family,'' she said. ``It's like traveling with your own community. You can be on a street of a city you've never been in before and it can feel like home because you see so many faces that are familiar.''
Only recently her 2-year-old son, Tyrell, has been traveling with her in the show. ``He is doing well.''
There is one thing that she's a little apprehensive about.
`My birthday is Feb. 25 and I'm going to get it,'' she said. ``When someone has a birthday around here they get pied.''
Minie, Gypsy and Alicia
About an hour and a half before show time, performers were filling the backstage areas. In one corner, a clown was absorbed in a conversation on a pay telephone, while nearby, Emil Popescu talked about his long circus career and his beloved sea lions.
``This year,'' Popescu said with his thick accent, ``I will be 40 years in show business.''
The 42-year-old native of Bucharest, Romania, is a fourth-generation circus performer. He began his career in his family's foot-juggling act and later had a hand-balancing routine with his sister.
``I started sea lions 10 years ago,'' he said. ``I was fascinated by sea lions and I was looking for something different. They are very intelligent. They are very attached to the human being and they are very cute.''
Popescu, and his three 250- to 300-pound sea lions, have been traveling with the circus in a specially adapted tractor-trailer with a 3,000-gallon pool.
His problem last week: Gypsy, his lead sea lion, had a cold, and Popescu worried that the other girls - Minie and Alicia - wouldn't perform without her. Would the show go on?
``If they don't like it,'' he said, ``there is no way you can force them. If they don't feel good or something is wrong they just refuse doing it and you can do absolutely nothing.''
And how do you train a sea lion?
``A lot of love, patience and lot of fish.''
They each eat about 30 pounds of fish each day with herring and smelt being their favorites.
Striking a pose
An hour before show time, the intensity had risen backstage. Jugglers were loosening up, costume-clad performers were rushing around and a high wire performer strode across a wire stretched a foot above the floor.
Out in the arena, the Three Rings of Adventure was just beginning. It's a new feature, allowing the audience to come down and experience circus skills such as walking a low-wire and clowning.
Ferenc and Viktor Rippel of Budapest, Hungary, were relaxing their muscles backstage awaiting their call for the grand entrance.
The brothers turn into The Golden Statues, with costumes of tight shorts and an all-body coating of bronze makeup over their rippling muscles.
In an amazing display of physical control, the two 200-pounders balance on one another's heads, hands and shoulders, holding statue-like poses.
``We play with physics,'' said 25-year-old Ferenc, with a heavy accent. ``We play with this, because sometimes the position is just a few millimeter to fall down or standing. What's possible and what's impossible, we have to find a way.''
``He lift me up,'' said Ferenc, ``He my elevator.''
The brothers started competing in sports gymnastics (a European form of acrobatics) as pre-schoolers, and later attended the renowned Hungarian Artist School.
``I like to do this power lifting and weight lifting,'' said Viktor, 23. ``It's hard but I like it.''
It takes about 20 minutes to put on their all-body bronze makeup, and an hour to take it off.
They joined Ringling Bros. a year ago.
``We were the happiest people,'' said Ferenc. ``Ringling, is for an artist, the biggest name in a circus in the world.''
On this night, it wasn't just business as usual for the Rippels. The night before, a high-wire performer fell during his performance and was seriously injured.
``If I want to be a professional, like now, with the hand-stand,'' Ferenc said, ``it have to be one way, not just half. If I do half Kung Fu or something like that and half hand-stand then easy to fall down, easy to break something, or it not look too good. It not professional.
``And we are fanatics,'' Ferenc said, ``so if we start something, we make 100 percent.''
Show time
At 7:30 p.m., a hush swept the mostly filled arena as the lights dimmed. Music roared out of the enormous speakers and the spotlights clicked.
Ameera Matheny pranced into center ring in her rhinestone-coated finery.
Gypsy the sea lion still didn't feel well enough to perform; Minie, Alicia and Emil Popescu went on without her.
Viktor and Ferenc Rippel, in full body bronze, posed to the gasps of the crowd.
On with the show. ILLUSTRATION: Color photos by Lawrence Jackson/The Virginian-Pilot
The Animal Trainer
Emil Popescu...
The Dancer...
Ameera Matheny
The Acrobats
Ferenc, left, and Viktor Rippel of Budapest, Hungry
Photo by LAWRENCE JACKSON/The Virginian-Pilot
Emil Popescu, a fourth-generation circus performer, with one of his
beloved sea lions. He began his career in his Romanian family's
foot-juggling act.