Q.  Most people associate “The Amazing Blazing Tyler Fyre” with Coney Island or The Lucky Devil Circus Sideshow, but before all this you had already acquired a good amount of sideshow skills.  Where did you originally learn these skills and what was it that made you want to?

A.  I’ve always had a love for the circus and the sideshow.  I remember seeing the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus at the Omni in Atlanta, GA in 1982, so I would have been about six years old.  Like most kids who see the circus, especially those of us coming from a rural, small town, it was the most amazing spectacle I’d ever seen; the colorful costumes, the amazing death defying acts, and the grandeur of it all.  Well I’ve never forgotten it.

My grandparents had a book when I was growing up called Toby Tyler or Ten Weeks with the Circus.   It’s the story of a young boy who runs away with the circus and back then there were very few folks named Tyler.  I only knew of Mary Tyler Moore and of course the former president.  So you could say that that planted the seed too.  Fire has always fascinated me and certainly got me into more than a little trouble for a long time.

Maybe coming from the South helped me along into the world of entertainment.  The laid back pace of life, rural atmosphere and hot weather encourages folks to tell long stories and entertain each other as a part of everyday life.  So learning circus and sideshow skills to entertain anyone just seemed like the natural thing for me to do.  I told stories and read gypsy cards and juggled a little when I was a teenager as a way to meet people and find places to stay.  It was really exciting.

When I was in college I was lucky enough to take a class with Hovey Burgess who taught me the basics of trapeze, how to juggle (properly), walk the tightrope, and balance everyday objects along with some basics of showmanship.  He’s such a magical human being.  It was really inspiring to learn from him.  In Hovey’s class I met Josh who taught me the basics of fire eating and I was hooked.  In another class called Street Theater, we had two guest lecturers who blew my mind: Todd Robbins and Jennifer Miller.  Listening to their stories about Sideshows by the Seashore gave me the inspiration to focus on the sideshow.

Q.  Once you had the acts under your belt can you tell us where your first public performance was and how it went over?

A.  My first public show performing a one-man sideshow was at Silver Lake Water Park in Raleigh, NC.  As for my first show there, well I moved to North Carolina on my motorcycle so I didn’t have much in the way of props or costumes.  I remember one day as I was making a balloon animal for a kid at the water park her Dad asked me if I worked at the park or if I was just there talking to all the small children!

I had some skills and some storytelling, but I hadn’t written many acts or put together a whole show so it really came off the top of my head for a while until I settled into a rhythm and got it together as a show.  I was performing five shows a day on the beach. Performing multiple shows is the best way to tighten up your material so it definitely helped me get better quickly.

Q.  You mentioned earlier that you attended college.  Did you attend college in Georgia?  In addition, what degree did you receive and what affect do you think it has had on your performing abilities?

A.  I am from Georgia, but I moved around a lot as a kid because my Dad is a minister.  I lived in Georgia until I was seven and then we moved to a town on the south side of Boston.  We lived in New England for a while until I went to college in New York and despite several extended trips and stays in other parts of the country, I’ve been here ever since.

I went to New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts for their Dramatic Writing Program in 1994 and in 1999 I received my BFA in playwriting.  I can’t say that I really enjoyed college and I quickly realized that playwriting was not the way I wanted to spend my life.  I didn’t want to leave New York yet, so I stuck it out and I’m really glad I did, because going to college allowed me to meet some wonderful people that helped get me into the sideshow.

The playwriting itself I’ve come to realize helps me a lot.  Dick Zigun, the impresario and founder of Coney Island USA is also a reformed playwright.  So it’s nice that we both share that background and it helps us communicate our ideas about the show to each other.

Playwriting and sideshow doesn’t at first seem like an obvious combination, but that may be why it’s helped me so much.  When I’m writing a new act or putting together a show I find myself thinking about using the three-act structure and what is the major dramatic question of this act.

Sideshow, after all, is entertainment for the masses and in order to appeal to the broadest demographic, your show has to make sense and be easy to understand for anyone, while still being at it’s core – entertainment.

Q.  As the story goes, after finishing up college you were somewhat trapped in NYC by the DMV.  Can you give our readers a little insight into how that happened?

A.  I love my motorcycle.  I ride a 1966 Triumph Bonneville, a British motorcycle just like the one Marlon Brando and his gang of outlaw bikers rode in The Wild One.  Her name is Trixie and we’ve ridden a lot of miles together up and down the Appalachian Mountain Chain.  And on occasion I get so entranced in riding, the Zen state that it is, that I may not obey all the applicable traffic laws.  When I finished college I was ready to split town and leave New York for good.  I went to the DMV in Coney Island with a stack of cash in my pocket to settle a stack of tickets and letters from the DMV.  As it goes with government agencies, I spent all day in different lines before getting to the right person; whereupon I was told that my license had been suspended and "after filling out this form I would get a response in seven to ten months."

I was a little put out with the way my day had gone and with steam pouring out my ears I decided to go for a walk on the beach before going home.  As it happened on my way back to the train I walked past Sideshows by the Seashore and decided to knock on the door.  So thanks DMV – much like college – for all the days you pissed me off – I couldn’t have done it without you.  Working in the sideshow is the exact opposite of being a meter maid.  I make people happy to pay money for an experience that they want and are going to enjoy.  And just so you don’t think that all the good luck I’ve had in the sideshow has changed me, I got another one of those DMV letters in the mail yesterday.

Q.  So after being somewhat trapped in New York by the DMV you ended up at Sideshows by the Seashore knocking on Dick Zigun’s door looking for work.  Seeing as you are now a regular at Sideshows by the Seashore something must have happened that day.  Can you give us some insight?

A.  My first meeting with Dick Zigun was a very humbling moment.  Dick opened the sideshow door wearing his orange glasses in the middle of the day and I told him I wanted to work in the show.  I’m 22 and I know that the world was made especially for me.  I’ve just come back from working five shows a day and working at the Olympics before that.  So I feel pretty confident that no show could possibly make it without me.

Well when I told Dick my list of amazing skills, he checked them off on his fingers saying that they either had them or didn’t need them.  While I was spinning in my shoes, he said that they did need an outside talker, and as my mind was saying – now what exactly does that mean I do again – my mouth was saying “Of course I can do that.”

I started on Memorial Day weekend - with no talker to listen to, and next to no material.  Little by little, old time talkers came by and helped me out.  God bless them all.  I feel most grateful to Bobby Reynolds who really shaped up my ballys and taught me so much about the sideshow.

Q.  There is a big difference between your home state of Georgia and Coney Island.  I would imagine the same difference is reflected in the type of people you see on the streets.  What was running through your head that Memorial Day Weekend?

A.  Georgia is a lot different from Coney Island.  My hometown of Grayson, GA had a population of 498 people when we lived there.  Coney Island has housing projects where a single building has more people than that.

When I started at Coney Island I had already traveled the country on my thumb for a while and lived with hookers and police raids and slept in the back of a refrigerated truck, so I wasn’t as shocked by Coney Island as your average green help might have been.

Traveling and meeting folks the way I had in addition to my proper Southern upbringing gave me a good sense of how to talk to people and get what I want even with as diverse a crowd as we get in Coney Island.  But Coney Island remains the only place I’ve ever performed where someone pulled a gun on me while I was on stage.

Q.  Someone pulled a gun on you?

A. Yes, late night in Coney Island we get a crowd like nowhere else. We used to sell dollar tickets late at night to get the last of the money from the midway and what a crowd they were. Mostly, the people who came in for a dollar after midnight were not there to watch a show - but to... well I'm trying to think of another way to put it... they're there to fuck with you. You have to be really on your toes and you need to run the show really tight, because any moment of pause or any sign of weakness and it's all over. The crowd takes control and it can get dangerous. I've seen more "laying on of the hands" on stage in Coney Island than the Baptists see in year and we've all got baseball bats at our stations. However, if you run it just right, you can turn it around and make them an awesome crowd. The night the gun came out was one of the good shows.

I start my blockhead bit with the ice pick. So I've just finished as the Master of Magic and I reveal the ice pick saying I'm going to show you why they call me the Human Blockhead. Well from the stage I'm motioning like I'm stabbing the ice pick. One guy in the front row with two chicks with him; I've got my ice pick in my fist and he reaches down into the waistband of his pants so everybody can see and pulls his gun out, pointing it at me and says, "You're going to show me what?"

He wasn't ever planning to shoot anyone - but it was macho man measuring up moment - I had my ice pick out, so he pulled his gun out for everybody to see. Once everybody knew, I told a joke and kept going with the show. He smiled and shook my hand on the way out that night. Taking a hostile crowd and winning them over is one of the best feelings in the world and moments like the night with the gun, well those are the moments where Coney Island has won me over and they're the most fun crowd I've ever played. 

Q.  So how did that first day go, and more importantly what did Dick think of your work?

A.  My first day of work in Coney Island was a pretty startling experience because I didn’t know I was showing up to work.  I had talked to Dick about trying out to be the talker and he said, “Okay, come by this weekend and check out the show.”  So I came out with my girlfriend and we watched the show.  We hung around out front for a while to listen to the talker, but no one ever came out onto the bally stage.  Clearly this is why Dick was giving me the opportunity.  Anyhow, Dick catches me standing outside, hands me the microphone and says, “Okay kid, go for it.”  Frank Hartman came out and gave me about 30 seconds of tutoring and that was it.  I talked the show for ten hours that day in my shorts and sneakers before Dick called John Robinson (end the show).  

At the end of it all, Dick said, “Well kid, you did okay.  Come back tomorrow and we’ll see how it goes.”  He kept me on that way, one day at a time for over a month before hiring me at $7 an hour for the rest of the season.

Q.  You remained on the bally for 3 years and anyone who knows you knows that you’re one hell of a talker.  Did there come a time where you just sort of went on autopilot or did you continuously try to come up with new and better ways to turn the tip?

A.  Working in Coney Island or on a carnival midway anywhere in the country is an incredible experience.  You learn to reprioritize things like food and sleep, even going to the bathroom.  At Sideshows by the Seashore we perform 12-15 shows a day and three ballys per show.  So that’s about 40 ballys a day plus grinding in between the ballys.  When I’m out on the bally stage, I’m always looking for the next big tip I can turn in, looking to see who’s got money in their pocket, and occasionally a pretty girl will pass by too.  But working those kind of hours on questionable food and sleep deprivation, there are certainly moments while I’m talking that I find myself thinking about what I’d like to have for lunch if I wasn’t working or if I can get that pretty girl to buy me a beer.  That happens mostly during the grind talking which can become somewhat monotonous day after day.  During the ballys I really expend all the energy I’ve got trying to hypnotize the audience.  Often we get people inside the sideshow from a bally who don’t want to watch a sideshow at all.  That’s when you know that the talker is really doing a good job.

Q.  Was there a point during those 3 years where you thought you were going to remain on the bally forever and never make it inside?

A.  I was certain that Dick was going to keep me out front forever and would never give me the job inside.  First there was Frank Hartman, Bobby Reynolds’s nephew, who grew up with the sideshow and when he wanted to be, he could be the best showman you’ve ever seen.  He was fresh off the road from Bobby’s show after a dispute with Bobby over money, married and living in an apartment (not a trailer) and making more money than he had with Reynolds.  So he had no plans of ever leaving the show.

Then the first unexpected thing happened. With all of the help I got from Frank and Bobby Reynolds, from Uncle Milty (Milt Levine), from Marie Roberts talking about her Uncle Lester, and the other showmen coming through Coney Island, I started getting good at talking the ballys.  Once I started making Dick money out on the Bally stage, I knew he would never put me inside. But life has a funny way of giving you what you wish for, whether it’s what you hoped for or not.

Q.  Eventually you did make it inside.  What changed that allowed that to happen and what was it like?

A.  Everybody knew that I wanted the job inside.  Frank Hartman knew it too and held on to it very tightly.  But things started to change, Frank’s first wife left him and he started leaving work early every now and then. After John Robinson came and I had done my last bally, Frank would let me finish the last show inside.  I remember the first time he let me eat fire to close the show – it was the greatest feeling in the world.  Of course the crowds for the last show of the night are the worst crowds you could ever perform for, and often, crowd really doesn’t describe the handful of drunken people sitting before you.  I think it was because I had wanted it for so long that it just felt great to be up on that stage.

Frank went away for a weekend once and let me fill in and then it happened.  Frank fell in love with a girl and decided to move out west.  I was worried that Dick would find someone else for the inside and keep me on the bally, but he let me work inside as long as I would still talk a few ballys.

Q.  After 3 years of building up and turning the tip for the inside performance, what was it like to be inside and having the tip turned for you?  

A.  The three years I spent talking the front of the show in Coney Island did more for my inside acts than anything else.  Working the bally was a real test and training ground of showmanship.  On the bally stage, you have to stop people and focus their attention in the middle of the noise and flashing lights of the midway.  You’ve got to entertain them without ever picking up a prop or performing anything, and then you’ve got to get them to reach for their wallet.  If you can get control of a crowd like that, well the ones who are already sitting down in front of you waiting for a show feel pretty easy.

The way we run the show in Coney Island with three ballys per rotation gives the show a different feel than the traditional bally, show, bally, show rotation.  The three ballys really give a rhythm to the show.  So at three distinct points in the show you have a group of people getting up and leaving and more people coming in, while other folks are staying in the stands watching you on stage.  We have to time the ballys and the dings very carefully so that the marks don’t walk in off a bally and get hit with a ding right away.  The outside talker and the inside lecturer really have to work together.  If either a bally or an act inside go one minute over or under it can make a huge difference in not just the numbers at the end of the day, but also the energy of the crowd and the feel of the show.

Q.  What exactly can one expect once they’ve paid their money and step inside Sideshows By The Seashore?

A.  Sideshows by the Seashore really is the last real live 10-in-1 sideshow left out there on the midway anywhere in the world.  We’ve made a few changes like bally rotation, but when you walk inside you always see ten live acts and two dings.  While we do change up the rotation, the rotation we ran most of 2003 went like this –Human Blockhead, Sword Swallower, Madame Twisto (the blade box),  Eak The Geek (our totally tattooed man), the Bed of Nails, Madame Electra (the electric chair), Inverted straight jacket escape, Insectavora (our tattooed bug eating babe), Serpentina (our snake charmer), Fire Eating and of course the Blow-Off.

Q.  At the time of this interview you’ve put in a total of 6 years at Sideshows By The Seashore.  Now that we know how you got there, what is it that’s kept you there?

A.  It’s a magical experience to work a 10-in-1 in Coney Island.  The history of our building, which used to be the Wonderland Circus Sideshow, and the old timers that walk in to say hello are just part of the experience.  Performing 15 shows a day is a rush like no other.  You hear rock stars explain how they got on drugs and one of the things you hear over and over again is how that rush of applause and energy you get from the crowd is overpowering and then you go backstage and you want that feeling back.  Well, rock-stars are only doing one show a night.  When the season winds down and I find myself doing two or three shows a week, it’s a very startling feeling.  The fact that we’re based in New York City so we can all live in our own apartments instead of motor homes is a great perk and in a great live performance town we can do other shows too. Well at least off-season we can.

Q.  Do you have any plans on leaving Sideshows By The Seashore?

A.  I’ve just renegotiated my contract for Sideshows by the Seashore so I’ll be there in 2004.  I really love my Lucky Devil Circus Sideshow and I love traveling, so I’m continuing to work out a way to do it all.

Q.  After 6 years you must have met some of the biggest names in the business.  Is there one person or event that really sticks out in your mind?

A.  I’ve been privileged enough to meet so many greats in the sideshow world and so many wonderful people that it’s hard to list a few without listing everyone.  But there are two events that do stick out in my mind.

The first time I met Bobby Reynolds, I recognized him right away.  I was talking a bally and Bobby came in on my tip.  Seeing him in that line was an amazing moment.  He came up to me and said, “Good work, kid.   Now give me the microphone and I’ll show how it’s done.”   He did.

I also remember the day Todd Robbins brought Ward Hall to Sideshows by the Seashore.  Ward is the most kind and gracious man you could ever meet.  It was Ward’s first time in Coney Island.  He’d been on the road for 58 years, but he works the mud shows, so if it’s on season and we’re open, then he’s open too, so our paths never crossed before that day.  He watched our whole show and made a point of shaking everyone’s hand and saying something wonderful about their act.

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Interview by Derek Rose