WRENTHAM — This is for everyone who wants to run away and join the circus.
“It’s the most magic I’ve experienced in my life,” says Salix Wraith, a longtime circus worker. “We work really hard, but we also have fun, and we make time to be silly and whimsical. It’s just nice to experience that every day.”
He’s setting up the Circus Smirkus 2025 Big Top tent at the Cracker Barrel fairgrounds on a Monday morning, bright and early. The tent crew arrived late the night before after breaking down the last show, 100 miles away in Greenfield.
Circus Smirkus, based in Vermont, is the only traveling youth circus performing under the Big Top in the US. There are 18 “troupers,” as performers are called, ages 12 to 18. A staff of 30-40 grownups complete their “circus bubble” that travels around New England in 25 vehicles.
The kids stay with host families at each stop. The grownups live in trailers at the tent site. They have a mobile kitchen, aka the “Pie Car,” and a trailer was converted into six tiny showers.
They’ll do 65 shows in seven weeks, clowning around before some 35,000 people.
It’s not all jesting and jokes, and risks are present. That became clear the day after the circus was set up when an aerialist fell 15 feet while performing, suffering serious injuries. He is now recovering, his mother posted on social media.
In many ways, Circus Smirkus is a throwback to a simpler time.
“It’s called a mud show, because it’s set up in fields as opposed to stadiums,” he says. “We’re carrying on the history of doing circus tours like this.”
Ringling Brothers is taking 2025 off to regroup but Smirkus Circus keeps on trucking in its 38th year. This year’s high-energy show is called “Game On.” It’s guaranteed to make you smile.
“Yeah, I love them,” Wraith says of the troupers. “They inspire me. They’re incredibly talented and athletic and sweet and creative. It’s why we’re here. We do it for the kids.”
On a travel day, the performers go to their host families for rest and relaxation. A comfy bed, breakfast, and dinner.
They are an eclectic group of athletes, twisting and turning in the summer air.
Each January, 45 kids are invited to audition in person at the circus headquarters in Greensboro. Those that don’t look people in the eye never make the cut.
The performers then meet on Zoom until they spend three weeks in June to finalize the show with their director and coaches.
They also don’t make any money, as Circus Smirkus is a nonprofit cultural organization.
Tuition this year is $9,000, which covers training, housing, food, costumes, coaching, and touring costs. No one is turned down because of financial need, according to marketing director Genevieve Martineau.
They typically work a 12-hour day. In between their noon and the 7 p.m. shows some troupers take cat naps.
Oscar Benninga, 15, of Lexington, practices flying through the air on a long swath of silk, which he twirls like a matador.
Is it like being Peter Pan?
“You do get that sense of detachment,“ he says. ”It’s a different world . . . It’s really fun. I get to train all day and perform for new people and make them smile.”
Lev Eisner, 18, a juggler from Baltimore, says circus life is a bit of a balancing act.
“We know how to stay up all night and swing off the roof, and we also know how to get to bed on time the night before a show and wake up at 6:00 a.m. to start warming up our bodies.”
The performers also do a multitude of other tasks. Last summer in Hanover, N.H., they were assigned to clean the tarps and mats.
“There’s decomposing slugs all over the tarps,” says Eisner.
Four teenagers lugged them down to the river, a half mile away.
“It turns out the current is really strong. They’re in, they’re unfurling, they’re billowing away. We’re pulling on them for our lives because we can’t lose the tarp,” he says.
We’re going to be in so much trouble.”
Somehow they managed to get back on land but the wet tarps were too heavy to carry. A fisherman who was a Circus Smirkus fan took them back in his pickup truck.
“I don’t think they quite dried before the show, but at least we were on time,” he says.
Sylvie Merryman-Lotze, 15, of Glenside, Pa., has been doing circus training since she was 5.
She says her sister was taking piano lessons in Philadelphia and a circus school was right down the street. “It was just something to kill time,” she says.
She discovered her calling to be a contortionist. It has gotten her into a lot of tight spots.
“I love working with my body, and I love working with other people.”
So many things can go wrong.
“A few shows ago, there were four nosebleeds during the show. Some people had to run off stage. We just had people sub in. We were behind the curtain, whispering, ‘All right, who’s going to do this trick’? It was crazy having to improv on stage to make up for it,” Sylvie says.
The accident involving the aerialist brought an outpouring of love and support. The show was immediately stopped and refunds were given.
Some patrons returned them with messages of love and hope.
“I returned to the tent on Wednesday and dropped off a cake to try in some small way to show that you are thought of by so many. It is a helpless feeling but I continue to keep all of you in my thoughts,” one woman wrote.
“I support and care about sustaining all of your hard work and all of the emotional work you are doing right now.“
The accident devastated the Circus Smirkus family, especially troupers, says Rachel Schiffer, executive and artistic director. "They’re sad. They’re curious and concerned. They’re frustrated because they want answers, understandably so.”
Two shows were canceled, but troupers bounced back. They spent a day off performing a show in the gym at Franciscan Children’s hospital in Brighton.
“They’ve been amazing in a really tough time,” Schiffer says of the troupers.
For now there will be no aerial acts until the investigation is complete.
“When we do circus, we come into a world of calculated risk,” despite rigorous training, education, safety checks, and balances, she says in an interview after the accident. “With all of those things, things can still go wrong.”
Schiffer says a safety net is not feasible because the circus tent isn’t tall enough.
A few days later, there’s good news.
The performer’s mother posted a photo of him at home smiling and giving the peace sign with two of his circus besties.
Stan Grossfeld can be reached at stanley.grossfeld@globe.com.