The clown standing before me wore size 16 red-trimmed white Pony sneakers. Her horizontally striped costume was covered with multi-colored figures and triangles. It was mismatched, indicating she could not decide what style to whip up on her sewing machine: the blouse had a long sleeve on one side and a single strap on the other side.

Her face, though not painted, was superficially masked by a painted on smile. Her hair was hidden under a nightcap covered with an oversize butterfly.

Her entire person was hidden from view. She was quite the clown, daring to be bigger than life, and I was distinctly aware of her, “the clown.”

Since ancient times, clowns have disguised themselves with masks, half-masks and dabs of color. Thus, make-up has always been a part of clowning: “Soted cheeks in ancient Rome, red noses for devils in the Middle Ages, masks in the Commedia dell’arte, bismuth and rouge in the English Harlequinade, flour in old French farces and burnt cork in the nigger-minstrel shows.” The word “mask” comes from “maskharat,” the Arabic word for “clown.”

Although the appearance and behavior of a clown may include highly collective traits, and his “species” clown is striking in the over-all effect of his appearance, his character, nonetheless, may be highly individual. His mask is, for example, personally stylized. Each clown’s make-up is his alone. His ownership of his design is guaranteed by an unwritten patent respected among circus performers.

American clowns have, over the years, evolved into three basic, or “pure,” clown types. From these, many variations, including blendings and mergings, have been inspired, making it sometimes impossible to “typecast” a favorite creation.

In the old days, when planning makeup and wardrobe, it was considered wrong to leave any skin uncovered, since skin revealed the clown as human. Today, many clowns choose to show their humanity, perhaps by eliminating the traditional white gloves, by performing without shoes or by leaving their arms bare. These clowns feel a bit of humanness brings them a little closer to their audience.

The Whiteface clown is the “king” of American clowns. He’s smart, resourceful and playfully on top of each situation. His traditional clown suit, though colorful and loose, has some measure of elegance and symmetry. His face, ears and neck are all white, marked with red and black. He wears white gloves.

There are two types of Whiteface clowns: the neat and the grotesque.

The “neat” whiteface clown uses modest markings, wears a skullcap (no hair), sports a small hat and lightweight shoes. The “grotesque” Whiteface uses bold markings, wears sprouting hair, adorns a funny nose and sports oversized feet.

The Auguste clown is the opposite of the Whiteface, neither neat nor grotesque. His name comes from a 16^th century German word meaning peasant or common, and that’s exactly what he is---common, but greatly exaggerated. His wardrobe is bizarre---big checks, skinny stripes, loud colors. He has absolutely no taste! Nothing matches and nothing fits properly. His props are homemade and ill-constructed. They fall apart. He is on the receiving end of Whiteface’s jokes, and, because nothing ever goes right for him, people love him and identify with him. He personifies the human condition. Auguste, despite his situation, is not a sad clown. A slapstick artist, he is a happy fellow and always manages, somehow, to recover.

The Auguste clown uses flesh-tone makeup, with white around the eyes and mouth. His markings are exaggerated. His clothing is colorful.

The Tramp was originally called a “carpet Clown.” He was a circus clown who worked on the carpets (temporary floors laid in the tents to keep the animals and artists from slipping). He was a laborer. He stayed near the action and created mood, often by imitating other clowns or by mocking the ringmaster. He also directed the audience’s attentions away from mistakes or accidents, and he cleaned up after the other performers.

Tramp is the lowliest of clowns. He wears discards and hand-me-downs. He is always ragged and shabby, but never dirty. His face is essentially his own, but his sad eyes accented with white accents, downward mouth and seedy, painted beard set him apart from the other clowns. The upper half of his face is flesh-tone and his nose is either pink or red. As Auguste is the butt of Whiteface’s jokes, Tramp is the victim of Auguste’s antics.

Many clowns have experienced rough beginnings or hard times in their lives. “Laugh, clown, laugh, though your heart is breaking” is the theme of Leoncavallo’s opera, Pagliacci, and this is often the theme of life. To those who smile through tears, the urge to clown grows out of the recollections of difficult periods---not from a need to hide or cover up, but from a need to share. These clowns say “I’ve been there. I’ve hurt too. I understand. I love.”

Not all clowns, however, perform through suppressed tears. The great Felix Adler maintained that inner sadness was not essential to clowning. Robert C. Benchley, who clowned in Barnum and Baily’s Circus in 1917, claimed all the clowns he knew were “exceptionally cheery people.”

Clowning may spring either from a joyous heart or from a saddened one. One never knows what lies beneath the mask. Clowning very often touches the clown as well as those he touches.

Can a sad clown be funny? Of course he can---if he’s truly the clown he has to be! In the first place, everyone knows he’s joking. Secondly, part of the fun is in trying to cheer him up. People care about the melancholy Tramp and want to make him happy. America’s version of this clown is the endearing hobo.

There’s more to being a clown than make-up, wardrobe and a few tricks. A true clown develops from within. Whether on a stage, in a parade, on a street corner, in a circus or at a birthday party, the clown is recognized universally as the symbol of happiness. He creates smiles. He creates laughter. He stands for good.

A bit of the clown exists in all of us, you and me. This is evidenced by our shared innocence, enthusiasm, sensitivity, curiosity, childlike delight, profound emotion and common bumbling way. Because of this, we identify with the clown, who makes the most of this identification. Clowns reflect life and comment on it. Through their actions, our reaction is to laugh---not so much at the ridiculous as at the comment on the ridiculous. The old comic “put down.” Yet, with the clown, the put down is different. The stage comic puts you down and leaves you there. Clowns, however, will always pick you back up, usually raising you to a higher of better level of existence. They do this “Because life is so hard, we have to lift up humanity instead of putting humanity down,” as Marcel Marceau said. A good clown will clown with you, his audience, not at you or to you. And because he feels good about being a clown, he will leave you feeling GOOD, or at least HOPEFUL, about some aspect of your life.

The clown standing before me entertains me, brings out my humanity. That is why I love her, in all her chaotic costuming and extreme makeup.

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