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There are plenty of laughs, but being a rodeo clown is no joke. Not to Dusty Meyers.
For more than two decades, Meyers has worked as a … ahem … professional rodeo clown, donning grease paint and traveling both across the country and around the world to crack jokes and be trampled by large animals.
It’s a career in which he’s excelled. Starting this week and continuing through next, Meyers will take part in the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas, the premiere competitive event for bullriders. The event kicks off Thursday, Dec. 4, and runs through the 13th. Fans can watch it live on The Cowboy Channel and online at https://nfrexperience.com.
For the 43-year-old Jumpertown native, it's the culmination of his career in making people laugh and his lifelong love of rodeo.
"It is the Super Bowl of Rodeo. It's the best of the best. It's the biggest rodeo you'll ever work," Meyers said. "That's everybody's dream."
It's certainly been his for a very long time.
The man who laughs
Some kids grow up with dreams of being firefighters or teachers or social media stars. Not Meyers.
Meyers wanted to be a rodeo clown.
His father had a great deal to do with that. A cowboy through and through, the elder Meyers worked the rodeo circuit, riding bulls and ******** horses for years and years.
Although his father was semi-retired by the time Meyers was born, the family could still be found in the crowds of rodeos regularly.
"My dad hated vacations," Meyers said, his laughter crackling over the telephone line as he called from Florida — the latest stop in his never-ending tour of the United States. "We didn't go to Hawaii. We didn't go to Florida. We didn't go to the mountains. We went to the Midsouth Fair."
It was during the long-running regional event that Meyers first saw Lecile Harris of Collierville, Tennessee, and Rudy Burns of Smithville — both rodeo clowns in the traditional vein.
Meyers was enamored. He loved the broad comedy of their acts, how they could capture the attention of the audience — or a bull — effortlessly through pantomime and expert comedic timing.
"As far back as my memory will let me go, I loved those two guys," Meyers said. "I saw them as a kid, and automatically, I knew that's what I wanted to do for a living."
Back home, Meyers would dress up in clown attire and play rodeo in his yard. Since his family raised goats, he'd be a "goatfighter."
Meyers took part in rodeos that weren't based in his yard, too. During his years in junior rodeo, Meyers rode sheep, calves and steers. He was decent, he said, but not great.
"I wasn't ever going to make a career out of it," he said.
When he turned 13, he decided he wanted to be a bullfighter. His dad put him in contact with an area rodeo company, and Meyers began working for them.
Meyers fought bulls for more than a decade. He was good at it, too, earning spots in the international finals four times during the 10-year span.
But fighting bulls isn't the same as being a clown, and Meyers wanted to be a clown.
"When I was working with the actual comedians at the rodeos, I would always beg to be in their acts," he said. "I just knew it was something I wanted to do."
Over time, Meyers began filling in when one of the rodeo clowns was out. He started clowning at smaller rodeos. Then larger rodeos.
Soon, it was his career.
Send in the clown
It took Meyers a long time to develop his grease-painted alter ego.
"When I first started, I didn't really know what I was doing," he said. "There's not a clown school that you can go to. It's just something you get in there and do."
Especially early on, Meyers drew most of his inspiration from Lecile and Rudy — the rodeo clowns he grew up watching — along with classic comedians like Red Skelton and Milton Berle.
Over time, he developed his own style while still drawing inspiration from classic clowns and comedians.
He described his "on-stage" persona as a wisecracker. He picks at the crowd and taunts the announcers. His performances involve lots of pantomiming.
"There are small pieces of everybody I kind of role-modeled," Meyers said. "I do a lot of little things Lecile and Rudy would do … kind of honoring them, in a way."
Meyers described himself as a "traditional clown" — a sight less and less frequent at modern-day rodeos but what he always envisioned himself being.
"I wanted to be a clown. I wanted to wear the big, baggy jeans and the funny shirts. I wanted to be a character," he said. "I stayed true to what I grew up watching."
Tough crowds
A job as a rodeo clown comes with all the pressures of being a comedic performer with an added physical threat of potential trampling by an angry 1,700-pound animal.
Both elements are nerve-racking in different ways.
"It's a challenge no matter where you're at," Meyers said. He was speaking about surviving crowds, not bulls.
A good rodeo clown has to be constantly aware of his surroundings. A clown’s job is both to entertain the audience — filling in the breaks between rides with skits and jokes — and also to keep riders safe by distracting the animals if need be.
Comedy is hard. Each audience is different, and the kinds of jokes or physical gags to which they respond can change with the region or the average age of those filling the seats.
"You're always trying to figure the crowd out," Meyers said. "It's harder than you think … I've been doing this for over 20 years at this point, and still, I have to find little different ways to change."
And then, of course, there's the bull.
Meyers works as a barrelman, backing up the first line of defense between a downed cowboy and the bull that's bucked him … the bullfighters.
"If a bull comes out and he throws a rider on the ground, it's the job of the bullfighters to distract the bull or put their bodies between the bull and the cowboy,” Meyers said.
If things go awry and the bullfighter gets knocked down, that's when the barrelman steps in.
Between Meyers and an aggravated bull is a custom-made aluminum barrel, padded by an inch-and-a-half of Styrofoam. The barrel weighs between 120 and 140 pounds altogether.
"I'm running my barrel in there as kind of a safety island," Meyers said. "Either the bull will hit me and knock me away, or (the bullfighter) can get behind it and give themselves a kind of shield."
Bulls don't hit the barrel too frequently, Meyers said. Maybe twice a night at most. But that's plenty.
"It'd be like putting yourself inside of a washing machine," Meyers said, describing what it’s like to be hit by a bull. "I have been knocked out, and I have a bull stick his head in the barrel with me. There is a lot of danger in the barrel. I've had their horns get in there with me; I've had their hoofs get in there with me."
The best seat in the house
Besides the stressors of public performance and animal attacks, rodeo clowns — or rodeo entertainers, as many prefer to be called these days — also have the pressure of being gig workers. They're small business owners, and their business is to perform.
A professional rodeo clown like Meyers will spend whatever little downtime he or she has working contacts and booking jobs. For Meyers, who's been at this a long time, schedules may be full years in advance.
While in Florida at the time of his interview, Meyers was preparing to head out to Kansas before eventually winding back down to his home in Mississippi. From there, the plan was to head out to Vegas for the National Finals Rodeo.
Meyers said his schedule is frequently this chaotic, carrying him back and forth across the country, with occasional jaunts overseas.
"Our schedules are usually pretty full," Meyers said. "I stay booked. I usually have only two or three weeks off a year."
Most venues are indoors, so rodeos are year-round. Meyers considers this a blessing.
"I'm one of the lucky ones,” he said. “'m one of the guys who works a lot.”
That dedication to his craft is paying off this week at the NFR, a venue in which Meyers has long dreamed of performing. Only a handful of clowns — mains and a few alternates — are picked to go each year. Meyers has been an alternate a couple of times, but has never been the event’s official barrelman.
Rodeo clowns have to work a certain number of rodeos to become eligible to perform during the NFR. A panel takes all who have qualified and votes on who they’d like to perform. The Top 5 get to attend.
It’s a true honor to attend, Meyers said. A 10-day spectacle for both the audience and performers.
“We’ve got speciality acts; we’ve got big openings; we’ve got musicians; we’ve got pyro,” he said. “We fit all of that in an hour and 45 minutes. There’s not a break. We’re just boom, boom, boom, boom, boom.”
Meyers called it “the most amazing event.”
“I’ve witnessed it, and it’s breathtaking,” he said. “Even me, who goes to rodeos every week … it’s just amazing.”
The life of a rodeo clown isn't for everyone, Meyers said. But it's been for him since long before he was old enough to cake face paint on himself, step inside a barrel and stare down an angry bull.
Clowns may be silly, but Meyers takes his role as one very seriously.
"I think clowns are there to make people happy,” he said. “They're there to spread joy.”
That's what he’s always wanted to do. Spread joy. Make people laugh. Through his long career, Meyers has been able to do just that, performing to crowds in a venue he's loved since he's old enough to remember.
"I love the rodeo," he said. "And I have the best seat in the house."
Continue reading...
For more than two decades, Meyers has worked as a … ahem … professional rodeo clown, donning grease paint and traveling both across the country and around the world to crack jokes and be trampled by large animals.
It’s a career in which he’s excelled. Starting this week and continuing through next, Meyers will take part in the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas, the premiere competitive event for bullriders. The event kicks off Thursday, Dec. 4, and runs through the 13th. Fans can watch it live on The Cowboy Channel and online at https://nfrexperience.com.
For the 43-year-old Jumpertown native, it's the culmination of his career in making people laugh and his lifelong love of rodeo.
"It is the Super Bowl of Rodeo. It's the best of the best. It's the biggest rodeo you'll ever work," Meyers said. "That's everybody's dream."
It's certainly been his for a very long time.
The man who laughs
Some kids grow up with dreams of being firefighters or teachers or social media stars. Not Meyers.
Meyers wanted to be a rodeo clown.
His father had a great deal to do with that. A cowboy through and through, the elder Meyers worked the rodeo circuit, riding bulls and ******** horses for years and years.
Although his father was semi-retired by the time Meyers was born, the family could still be found in the crowds of rodeos regularly.
"My dad hated vacations," Meyers said, his laughter crackling over the telephone line as he called from Florida — the latest stop in his never-ending tour of the United States. "We didn't go to Hawaii. We didn't go to Florida. We didn't go to the mountains. We went to the Midsouth Fair."
It was during the long-running regional event that Meyers first saw Lecile Harris of Collierville, Tennessee, and Rudy Burns of Smithville — both rodeo clowns in the traditional vein.
Meyers was enamored. He loved the broad comedy of their acts, how they could capture the attention of the audience — or a bull — effortlessly through pantomime and expert comedic timing.
"As far back as my memory will let me go, I loved those two guys," Meyers said. "I saw them as a kid, and automatically, I knew that's what I wanted to do for a living."
Back home, Meyers would dress up in clown attire and play rodeo in his yard. Since his family raised goats, he'd be a "goatfighter."
Meyers took part in rodeos that weren't based in his yard, too. During his years in junior rodeo, Meyers rode sheep, calves and steers. He was decent, he said, but not great.
"I wasn't ever going to make a career out of it," he said.
When he turned 13, he decided he wanted to be a bullfighter. His dad put him in contact with an area rodeo company, and Meyers began working for them.
Meyers fought bulls for more than a decade. He was good at it, too, earning spots in the international finals four times during the 10-year span.
But fighting bulls isn't the same as being a clown, and Meyers wanted to be a clown.
"When I was working with the actual comedians at the rodeos, I would always beg to be in their acts," he said. "I just knew it was something I wanted to do."
Over time, Meyers began filling in when one of the rodeo clowns was out. He started clowning at smaller rodeos. Then larger rodeos.
Soon, it was his career.
Send in the clown
It took Meyers a long time to develop his grease-painted alter ego.
"When I first started, I didn't really know what I was doing," he said. "There's not a clown school that you can go to. It's just something you get in there and do."
Especially early on, Meyers drew most of his inspiration from Lecile and Rudy — the rodeo clowns he grew up watching — along with classic comedians like Red Skelton and Milton Berle.
Over time, he developed his own style while still drawing inspiration from classic clowns and comedians.
He described his "on-stage" persona as a wisecracker. He picks at the crowd and taunts the announcers. His performances involve lots of pantomiming.
"There are small pieces of everybody I kind of role-modeled," Meyers said. "I do a lot of little things Lecile and Rudy would do … kind of honoring them, in a way."
Meyers described himself as a "traditional clown" — a sight less and less frequent at modern-day rodeos but what he always envisioned himself being.
"I wanted to be a clown. I wanted to wear the big, baggy jeans and the funny shirts. I wanted to be a character," he said. "I stayed true to what I grew up watching."
Tough crowds
A job as a rodeo clown comes with all the pressures of being a comedic performer with an added physical threat of potential trampling by an angry 1,700-pound animal.
Both elements are nerve-racking in different ways.
"It's a challenge no matter where you're at," Meyers said. He was speaking about surviving crowds, not bulls.
A good rodeo clown has to be constantly aware of his surroundings. A clown’s job is both to entertain the audience — filling in the breaks between rides with skits and jokes — and also to keep riders safe by distracting the animals if need be.
Comedy is hard. Each audience is different, and the kinds of jokes or physical gags to which they respond can change with the region or the average age of those filling the seats.
"You're always trying to figure the crowd out," Meyers said. "It's harder than you think … I've been doing this for over 20 years at this point, and still, I have to find little different ways to change."
And then, of course, there's the bull.
Meyers works as a barrelman, backing up the first line of defense between a downed cowboy and the bull that's bucked him … the bullfighters.
"If a bull comes out and he throws a rider on the ground, it's the job of the bullfighters to distract the bull or put their bodies between the bull and the cowboy,” Meyers said.
If things go awry and the bullfighter gets knocked down, that's when the barrelman steps in.
Between Meyers and an aggravated bull is a custom-made aluminum barrel, padded by an inch-and-a-half of Styrofoam. The barrel weighs between 120 and 140 pounds altogether.
"I'm running my barrel in there as kind of a safety island," Meyers said. "Either the bull will hit me and knock me away, or (the bullfighter) can get behind it and give themselves a kind of shield."
Bulls don't hit the barrel too frequently, Meyers said. Maybe twice a night at most. But that's plenty.
"It'd be like putting yourself inside of a washing machine," Meyers said, describing what it’s like to be hit by a bull. "I have been knocked out, and I have a bull stick his head in the barrel with me. There is a lot of danger in the barrel. I've had their horns get in there with me; I've had their hoofs get in there with me."
The best seat in the house
Besides the stressors of public performance and animal attacks, rodeo clowns — or rodeo entertainers, as many prefer to be called these days — also have the pressure of being gig workers. They're small business owners, and their business is to perform.
A professional rodeo clown like Meyers will spend whatever little downtime he or she has working contacts and booking jobs. For Meyers, who's been at this a long time, schedules may be full years in advance.
While in Florida at the time of his interview, Meyers was preparing to head out to Kansas before eventually winding back down to his home in Mississippi. From there, the plan was to head out to Vegas for the National Finals Rodeo.
Meyers said his schedule is frequently this chaotic, carrying him back and forth across the country, with occasional jaunts overseas.
"Our schedules are usually pretty full," Meyers said. "I stay booked. I usually have only two or three weeks off a year."
Most venues are indoors, so rodeos are year-round. Meyers considers this a blessing.
"I'm one of the lucky ones,” he said. “'m one of the guys who works a lot.”
That dedication to his craft is paying off this week at the NFR, a venue in which Meyers has long dreamed of performing. Only a handful of clowns — mains and a few alternates — are picked to go each year. Meyers has been an alternate a couple of times, but has never been the event’s official barrelman.
Rodeo clowns have to work a certain number of rodeos to become eligible to perform during the NFR. A panel takes all who have qualified and votes on who they’d like to perform. The Top 5 get to attend.
It’s a true honor to attend, Meyers said. A 10-day spectacle for both the audience and performers.
“We’ve got speciality acts; we’ve got big openings; we’ve got musicians; we’ve got pyro,” he said. “We fit all of that in an hour and 45 minutes. There’s not a break. We’re just boom, boom, boom, boom, boom.”
Meyers called it “the most amazing event.”
“I’ve witnessed it, and it’s breathtaking,” he said. “Even me, who goes to rodeos every week … it’s just amazing.”
The life of a rodeo clown isn't for everyone, Meyers said. But it's been for him since long before he was old enough to cake face paint on himself, step inside a barrel and stare down an angry bull.
Clowns may be silly, but Meyers takes his role as one very seriously.
"I think clowns are there to make people happy,” he said. “They're there to spread joy.”
That's what he’s always wanted to do. Spread joy. Make people laugh. Through his long career, Meyers has been able to do just that, performing to crowds in a venue he's loved since he's old enough to remember.
"I love the rodeo," he said. "And I have the best seat in the house."
Continue reading...
