Friday, October 10 -- evening, fiveish: It's been bucketing rain in Davis, and I'm prepared to do the motel thing if Lodi is soaked. The sky clears up, though, on the journey through the Central Valley. I drive into the maze of Micke Grove Park, searching for flying objects to zero in on the ninth annual Lodi Juggling Festival. The first soul I spot is a purposefully striding fellow in a white leather fedora, stalking across the acres of green grass. It turns out to be festival organizer Andrew Conway, who greets me and my three anklebiters with genuine warmth and hospitality. He advises me regarding a good camping site (though I don't think there were any bad ones) and moves off to deal with his many tasks. We set up the tent under sprawling oak trees and chattering squirrels, I turn the offspring loose, and set off with my prop bag to find the action.
This festival was conceived eight years ago when the parks and recreation department in Lodi received one of IJA's letters about celebrating National Juggling Day. It turned out that the weekend of the event itself didn't work for Andrew and his group, but they selected a fall weekend instead (the valley in summer is truly unbearable -- outdoor juggling would be horrendous). They've done it on Columbus Day weekend every year since, covering expenses with profits generated from ticket sales for the big Saturday night show -- extra proceeds benefit several worthy local charities. Aside from the $5 Saturday night dinner, everything else for participants is free -- even your parking, if you brought your IJA membership card.
It turns out that not many folks are juggling yet under the giant covered picnic area. Lots of props are awaiting attention as clumps of folks eagerly catch up on each other's life stories. Little Ian Conway is zipping around on his unicycle (he does this ceaselessly throughout the festival) and I notice Mary Evanhoff's daughter has connected with mine -- they effectively take care of each other all weekend. I get to visit with a few folks I've met before (not many yet, though -- my only other festival to date is Portland). One great game is to meet folks in person that I've gotten to know over rec.juggling (the Usenet newsgroup): Martin Frost, Barry Bakalor, Andrew, Greg Edwards (the festival's workshop organizer, who did a great job), and a few others.
Finally we start juggling. I've been boning up on three-count passing ever since I tried it a few months ago, and I've been itching to work with Martin, who has developed some amazingly complex and beautiful patterns with it. He's busy, but I do get to practice Jim's Three-Count for a while. There's stargazing in the parking lot, several youngsters putting up seven balls (Jimmy Shafer and Adam Adler, for starts), Butterfly Man appears, and there's even a vendor already set up. Steve Healey (JAG on the newsgroup) from down south works with me on pickups during a shower, and I almost get it a couple times. Bedtime is early for me -- gotta get the kids down, and our juggling club is running the very first workshop of the festival bright and early in morning. The weather holds up all weekend -- it's warm and sunny in the mornings, though there is an autumn nip in the air early on, and the nights are definitely cold.
A camping shower is set up in one end of the kitchen that's attached to the picnic area, and if you don't think too much about the tattered notices about the coliform warning from the Health Department then the hot water is wonderful. Our workshop, Beginning Club/Ball Passing, is sparsely attended, but every new club juggler gets an experienced one to work with and everyone looks like they learned a lot. I hooked up with Matthew, who looked to be about ten years old and had been working with clubs for two weeks. He did great and was passing with me in half an hour. Took me years, the little wretch. I still liked him, even when he was showing off with his devil stick later. I asked him if he had just learned those two weeks ago, and he said,"Naw. I've done these a long time. . . about two months."
After our workshop was done, I dropped in on Seth Golub's beginning devil stick workshop. Now I'm gonna have to go get some of those things, too -- you can't have too many props. Then, oh joy, I am invited (after lurking around them for about fifteen minutes) to join Martin and his group working on three-count goodies. Of course I muff about a hundred times while he is coaching me, but I manage to hold my own without killing anyone and we get a few good rounds of Martin's Madness in.
I join a group doing a very strange line feed conducted by Chuck Fernald (lots of ghosts, the number changes by the minute), then he arranges us into something really hideous aptly named the Torture Chamber. We actually get through it a few times, amazingly. Martin does his Advanced Passing workshop, which starts off with everyone learning Jim's Three-Count and then becomes a showcase of his variations on that theme: the Madness, Martin's Mildness, and Martin's Psychosis. Unfortunately, most of it goes over our heads, but the demo is inspiring.
Meanwhile, there are workshops in club swinging, whip cracking, balloon tying and more going on around us. Andrew has whips for rent, and quite a few folks are taking advantage of the offer. The BBQ and spaghetti feed seem to go well, with lots of volunteers and plenty of eaters. Too bad I didn't hear about it -- we have food that will spoil if we don't eat it, so we miss out this year. Then we go off to the big show, an easy walk across the beautiful grounds. As in past years, the admission ticket is a cool refrigerator magnet (no T-shirts available this year, though! Bummer). Those of us who helped with workshops and the meal get gratis tix, the rest of us pay $10 a head ($5 for kids). Stilts is there, up high in an Uncle Sam outfit, doing a witty meet-and-greet for those of us waiting in line.
Turns out the show is just about sold out -- volunteers are pulling chairs from under the performers in the green room for patrons. But we manage to shoehorn everyone in, Stilts settles on his ladder in back, and the show begins. The talented Jeff Daymont is trying his hand at emcee -- it's his first time, and he's pretty nervous. But he soon wins over the audience -- a rude heckler and Jeff's genuine friendliness overcomes his occasional trick failures. A bit with Sergei the doll brings tears to my eyes (from laughing, of course), his cigar boxes are amazing, and one bobble with machetes on a rolabola has me worried about the kids in front. He also nicely demonstrates the kendama, the devil stick, and lots of other props. A running gag with reading the performers' horoscopes gets funnier when we have several Libras in a row: "Satisfaction will be gained by reorganizing an inefficient system."
Later I find out that the rude heckler that interrupted Jeff and several other acts is a juggler and volunteer for the festival! Robert Nelson took her aside and told her off, but it didn't slow her down at all. I sincerely hope she will be properly bound and gagged by next Lodi.
Show organizer Barry Bakalor has put the enormously talented Adam Adler on stage first -- I saw Adam do his glowballs in Renegade at Portland and was looking forward to seeing him again. However, Adam's punk tendencies overrule his good judgement, and he does his routine to music that features the word "motherf-----" repeatedly and clearly. The dozens of kids in the front rows were rapt (my three-year-old has been chanting the chorus all weekend, thankfully dropping out that particular line) and Andrew later promises to have words with Adam personally.
Those two beefs aside, the rest of the show was outstanding (thanks, Barry!). There were acts that had worked this show in the past (Pier 39's Merrie Mary, Iman's hilarious wrestling match with a folding chair, Ben Schoenberg of Serious Juggling who did a great trick with ten balls, a truly touching bit of poetry by the touched Robert Nelson) and some new faces that had us cheering (Sherry and her flaming devil stick, Keith with his diabolo and the coolest glasses I've ever seen, plate juggler Hugh Frisbee, prestidigitator David Bernbaum, hot footbagger Tim Kelly, my teacher-friend-fellow Damento Mike Brown doing a three ball political commentary, Jimmy's origami story - closing with him lighting a square of paper on fire, and folding an origami crane whilst it burned!) and an outrageous finish by Nica and her Henchmen: first she did an eye-popping glow-stick-swinging routine (when she went into warp 9, you could see her silhouette against the glow trails in the dark),then her henchmen did some torch passing and she returned to swing torches around and between them.
Back to the picnic shelter for juggling to the wee hours. Steve organized some combat, flaming torches and diabolos roared by, and I managed to pester Martin enough to get him to let me juggle with him again. We were working for over an hour on an N (later a W) of the Madness, and I felt I was holding my own, finally. I went to bed at midnight with a big stupid grin on my face.
Got up at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m. and drove to Hayward for a braiding job (more on this little hobby later). Dashed back by 11, too late for Steve's advanced passing (a.k.a., junk) class, darn it, but in time for Adam's three ball demo and sharing workshop. The kids were playing with a giant inflated pyramid and cube (ala' Fred Garbo), clubs were flying and life was good.
The workshops coordinator had asked me to teach a workshop on hair braiding, which puzzled me: why would anyone want to be fooling with hair when they could be juggling? But he insisted, so I did it. Actually, there is an odd connection -- last fall, while I was contemplating a three ball cascade, it occurred to me that if you tied three long strings onto those balls, the pattern would form a braid. So I taught a class in the Three Strand Cascade -- at first only two folks showed up, but as curious jugglers drifted over to see what we were doing, I wound up teaching for about two and a half hours.
We had a birthday celebration for Johanna Thaxter, a Damento who turned seventeen later that week -- she was totally surprised by her cake, a crowd of well-wishers, and a gift certificate for a set of clubs or torches. Hope El Nino keeps her lawn well watered this fall!
Steve and three other fellows mounted their giraffe unis and did some nice club passing up in the rarefied air, while Justin and Sara from Sacramento led a stiltwalking class. Jimmy did an origami workshop, where he showed off a Swiss Army Knife he made of "one piece of paper with no cuts" that was silver on one side and red on the other, with at least four implements that really folded out! John Foss did a well-attended unicycle class, then showed off with some of his specialized collection of unicycles (I really liked the "bike" one!).
The festival started to wind down a bit. The vendors (Renegade, Serious Juggling, and Golden Jester) packed up. Most folks joined a massive pizza order, while others slowly trickled away. Even though the festival had been advertised to go on through 4 p.m Monday, only a few dozen hardy souls were left by Monday morning. Even by the time for the Sunday night Renegade show, we were down to maybe sixty folks (from a total of about two fifty). While I waited for the Renegade show to start, Johanna and I put up seven clubs -- my first time!
The Renegade show was relatively tame but still worth staying up for. We broke in another new emcee, Keith -- he's been doing shows on Pier 39, and he was calmed and comforted by the now-familiar barks from the sea lions in the nearby zoo. Stilts was up first, and he did a short but sweet rolabola and hoops act, with a little bit of nice chin balancing to finish up. My friend and fellow Damento, Monica, and I were on stage next (first time for both of us). We were "A Hairy Situation": I had tied three balls to my butt-length hair, and she juggled them -- to form a braid!
Other memorable acts: Jimmy performed some more origami and magic, sang "I am the very model of a modern major Jugglist" (to the Gilbert & Sullivan tune of a similar name) while doing three balls -- this was truly sidesplitting -- and did a dance-and-whistle routine. Damento Lance Coombes did a mesmerising three ball and contact juggling routine. Mary got up to show a nice handstand, but it took repeated attempts -- each time she took off another layer of clothing, and the pile was remarkable. This concept caught on -- after every incomplete attempt at a trick the rest of the night, the performer was pressed by the audience to remove another piece of clothing. Several poor fellows were down to bare chests in the damp and chilly evening air.
Our intrepid emcee did a riff on Jeff's horoscope gag -- he had picked up some supermarket tabloid, and read aloud his own horoscope: something about a song making his work lighter. Of course (and to his dismay) the audience immediately demanded him to sing. Gamely, he launched into a wonderful Jolly Beggar's ditty: "There was an old farmer who lived on a rock, he watched little boys as they played with their . . . marbles and toys as in old days of yore, and for a companion he had a young . . . maiden who laid down right there on the grass, she said she would show him the shape of her. . . shoes and her stockings. . ." Well, you get the idea. Andrew got up and demonstrated a new way to enjoy bottled refreshments, then showed off some of his latest diabolo stunts. This show also ended with a great fire act: Keith Erickson did a scorching routine with his homemade flaming poi balls (that had everlasting fuel on them!) -- he had to shed his shirt and one boot during the act, but it was a good one nonetheless.
About half of the group stuck around to play some more. I joined an N, and the passes got faster and nastier until . . . WHAM! A huge game of combat spontaneously combusted on the floor. I heard it lasted for two or three hours, with at least a dozen people at any one time. Being a pacifist, I scurried to the relative safety of a picnic bench to discuss props and share injuries with other sideliners, but being a rubbernecker my attention kept getting drawn back to the action. A fellow nicknamed Jester (for his hat) bearing neon yellow Renegade clubs soon became the reigning champ. He juggled these huge clubs low, fast, and with astonishing precision, scuttling like a crab all over the floor. Later I found out his name was Emmett, and that this was only his second festival. Watch out for this guy!
Monday morning was pretty relaxed. Andrew did another whip cracking workshop, Monica led an advanced club swinging class, and the rest of us juggled, chatted, picked up trash, and tore down campsites. I braided Lance's royal purple hair, picked up the leftover props, fed the rugrats and headed home to enjoy the afterglow and bathe my bruises. Another fantastic festival! Well done, Andrew and company. You've got a winner here -- I can't wait for the tenth annual Lodi Juggling Festival.
Katje Sabin-Newmiller lives in Davis, California, with her three homeschooled kids and her engineer husband, who has just learned to pass clubs. In addition to braiding and juggling, she enjoys writing, beadwork, and being a kept woman. She still doesn't know what she wants to be when she grows up.