“I play cornet with the band,” Merle says, “I use a whistle and change the music just as we do for acts in the circus, and you would be surprised how well they can do it.” In addition, he gives a talk on his experiences in the show business.

Merle has two obsessions—his love for popcorn and his love for his cornet. He must have his daily ration of the former both summer and winter. After a hard day’s work he relaxes at home by playing cornet solos or listening to good records—with a bowl of popcorn nearby.

Super-bandmaster Merle Evans has made a lasting name for himself—not only in circus band music but in concert band music as well.

The story of the Merle Evans Circus Band is in a big way the story of all modern circus bands.

However it is far removed from those of yesterday. At the turn of the nineteenth century, the circus had one or two fiddlers to furnish the music for their shows. But more often the owners relied upon the players they could get to help out in the towns where they appeared. The owner himself furnished the music in the John Robinson Circus, which made its debut in 1854. John propped his chair against a center pole and fiddled away while the bareback riders rode their cavorting horses and the acrobats performed their dangerous stunts.

A rival circus, Quick and Mead, boasted a two-man band with a hurdy-gurdy and a bass drum. The hurdy-gurdy player was a specialist hired for that job alone. But various members of the company took turns as parade drummers, sometimes with more noise than rhythm.

Doubling as musicians was the usual thing after the circus parade became a big feature of show day. Then clowns were required to fill in as musicians, and there were some very fine “clown musicians” such as the renowned Adler. A clown band not only marched in the lineup but usually played during part of the big show program. Sometimes the ticket sellers helped out. Gradually the size of the bands increased until there were as many as thirty musicians.

Then as now everything centered around the circus band. The um-pahs blaring forth from the marchers or from the top of the big, gayly painted band wagon drawn by eight coal-black horses became an unforgettable part of the memory of children and adults.

After the parade the band played an hour’s concert under the big top. The immense drum, on wheels fully six feet high, emitted tremendous booms as it was drawn about the arena.

During the acts that followed, the bass drummer could make or break an act. Acrobats, riders, and clowns timed their tricks to the boom of the drum. Stunts such as the midget rider falling off his horse, catching it by the tail, and lifting himself into the saddle with a thump were much funnier with the drum’s booms. The clown’s awkward falls and his antics which involved noises like exploding cigars were always accented by the thud of the bass drum at the right moment. Sometimes the bandmaster in order to amuse the audience would pick up the rhythm of the movements of a latecomer who was vainly trying to locate his family. And there seemed to be a march for every occasion and situation.