The following is a guest post from blogger and former Ringling clown André du Broc

I've spent much of my life in careers centered around making others happy. As an actor, I believed that my first responsibility was to the audience. They needed to be delighted and engaged by everything that I did on stage. This was particularly true of my time as a circus clown. If an audience's joy depended on my dropping my pants, I dropped my pants. If it meant taking a pie in the face three times a day, so be it. Many may have thought that these actions were undignified. I saw it as doing my job well. It brought me great satisfaction to see families sitting together in a crowded stadium and smiling from ear to ear.

Every Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey show begins with the ringmaster's announcement, "Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Children of all ages!"

I love that thought. From the beginning of the show, the audience is told to leave adulthood at the door. Be a kid again. Laugh. Smile. Enjoy!

The veneer of the circus was everything I desired in a career. It was a chance to make masses of people happy, a chance to travel all over, and an opportunity to take my silliness very seriously. What I found backstage, however, was very different. My goal is not to write an exposé of everything that happened backstage at Ringling. My former work as a circus clown has carried me far and opened a lot of doors for me over the years, and for that I am very grateful. But there was a world behind the curtain that I was not equipped to handle.

Audiences come to Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey's Greatest Show on Earth ("Big Bertha" to circus folks) primarily to see two things—clowns and elephants.

I spent most of my time with the elephants. In Tampa, I had a roommate who was an elephant trainer for a local zoo, so I had a deep fondness for these massive animals. If you look into the eyes of an elephant, you can't help but remark at their soulfulness. They are filled with expression. When an elephant is happy, you can tell at a glance. Back in Tampa, when the elephants were allowed to play in the water, their eyes would twinkle, their bodies would waddle, and their trunks would curl up, pulling their large mouths into an unmistakable smile. They looked like they were having fun. They were happy.

I never saw the elephants in the circus make that face. They looked tired, weary, frustrated, angry, and so very sad. I stopped one of the assistant elephant handlers to ask why a particular elephant had tears pouring down the sides of her face. He laughed, "'Cause she's a bitch and the bitch got what was coming to her." He then pointed to the welt on the side of his face from where she had slapped him with her trunk. He then showed me his bullhook, a 2-foot-long stick with a metal hook on the end that is used to train elephants. "I gave her about 10 good whacks across her skull. Bam! Bam! Bam!" he demonstrated. "Bitch'll think twice before she messes with me." This brutal assistant handler had never received any formal training in dealing with elephants. His job was simply to keep them fed, watered, and in line.

I remember that there was always a bullhook in the corner of the apartment back in Tampa. The metal hook had a blunt, rounded tip. My roommate had explained that it was used to hook the inside of where the mouth and trunk met. You give it a slight tug and the elephant will move in that direction. I witnessed many of the Ringling trainers sitting in circles, sharpening their bullhooks to dangerous points. They wanted the elephants to fear them, and the best way to do that was to inflict as much pain as possible.

Each of these great animals were looking at a lifetime of being chained to a wall, beaten, and marched out briefly to perform. Unlike those I left in Tampa, they would never roll in the grass or enjoy playing in the water.

The largest of the elephants, King Tusk, had a particularly sad story. When he first came to Ringling from another circus in 1986, he was the largest traveling land mammal alive. At 42 years old, weighing 14,762 pounds, standing 12 feet 6 inches tall, and sporting a length of 27 feet, King Tusk (Tommy) was a spectacular being. In the wild, elephants are constantly rubbing down their tusks to reduce the weight carried by their head. Tommy, however, had been prohibited from doing so for 42 years, and this had allowed his tusks to grow unacceptably long. In fact, where cracks would form along the tusk, metal bands were installed to keep them from breaking. His tusks were more than 7 feet long and put enormous weight and strain on his back. He had arthritis in his neck and back, and by the time I joined the circus in 1992, he could no longer perform any tricks.

Instead of retiring this great elephant with dignity and shaving down his tusks so that he could live out his remaining years in comfort, Ringling would have him simply stand in the center ring while two acrobats performed on his back.

Tommy was finally transferred to the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium in 1998 after spending 51 years of his life performing in circuses. According to Two Tails Ranch's records, Columbus Zoo and Aquarium sent him to live out his remaining years at their elephant facility in Florida, where at 57 years of age he was finally euthanized just before Christmas in 2002.

I am grateful for the experiences that I had in the circus. I learned about who I am as a person, an entertainer, and a clown. I learned so much and had amazing, exciting, and terrific experiences. Most importantly, I learned what dignity means. I filled my steamer trunk with plenty of it as I rolled it out of Clown Alley and away from the Big Top forever.

I will not go to a Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey show or any other Feld Entertainment production ever again.

Tommy would have wanted it that way.

André du Broc graduated from Clown College in the fall of 1992 and went on the road with Ringling's blue unit in late October. He left the circus about a month later because he could no longer bear to witness the horrific treatment and living conditions of the animals. André maintains a blog at toomanycookies.wordpress.com.

My sister has always written letters and signed petitions about animal issues, but all it took for her to become a full-out anti-circus campaigner was for me to bring home a bullhook from the PETA office for her to see and touch. The sheer ugly menace of this standard elephant training tool really hit her (not literally!). As she put it, "The thought of elephants getting beaten and hooked with this sadistic weapon makes me sick."

Seasoned activists are already familiar with these heavy, metal-tipped, fireplace poker–like devices, which circuses like Ringling use to break elephants and keep them afraid to move an inch without permission. And now you have a chance to get your hooks on one. Leave a comment telling us how having a real bullhook would help you educate people about the abuse of elephants in circuses, and you'll be in the running to win one to use in your local campaigns and anti-circus demonstrations!

The person who leaves the most motivated comment will win this ghastly weapon for his or her own show-and-tell educational efforts. The contest ends on May 14, 2010, and we'll announce the winner on May 18, 2010. Be sure to read our privacy policy and terms and conditions, as you're agreeing to both by submitting. And please remember, let our Action Team know when the circus is coming to your area so that we can work together to plan a demonstration and get the word out.

Good luck!

Written by Jennifer O'Connor

Our friends at Animal Defenders International (ADI) have just released footage from their undercover investigation of the Great British Circus.

If you're like me, you just had déjà vu. ADI's undercover footage of elephant beatings is sickeningly similar to our footage of Ringling's elephant beatings. That's because the routine abuse of animals in circuses is universal.

While Ringling lies through its teeth about its treatment of elephants, the Great British Circus claims to follow the "code of conduct" set forth by the European Circus Association (a mouthpiece for circuses), which states, "Training must not … cause physical injury or psychological stress" and "… our animals are treated like members of the family … just like your family pet."

Which family? The Manson Family? In my family, we don't twist our cat's tail, and we don't strike our dogs' snouts.

In an alarming twist, Ringling Bros. plans to visit Europe. If you live across the pond, please take action so that Ringling isn't given the chance to swap bullhooks tricks of the trade with its British elephant-beating counterpart.

Written by Karin Bennett

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This morning, PETA Vice President Dan Mathews appeared on the Today show to talk about the court case involving Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. Alert PETA Files readers will recall that Ringling has been sued by a coalition of animal protection groups over what they allege are violations of the Endangered Species Act. Namely, they're arguing that beating elephants with bullhooks and keeping them chained for hours or even days on end are no way to treat an endangered species.

Here's a little refresher: Over the course of the six-week trial, reams of evidence were trotted out to support reports that Ringling keeps elephants chained for an average of more than 26 hours at a time, sometimes for as many as 60 to 100 hours straight, and that elephants often suffer from bleeding wounds after being struck with bullhooks. Former Ringling employees testified about the horrors they witnessed while on Ringling's payroll, which included seeing an elephant who was violently beaten for a solid half hour.

The judge is still weighing his verdict, but in the meantime, Ringling is on trial in the court of public opinion. Kudos to Today for helping us expose Ringling for the sleazy animal-abusing con artist that it is.

Written by Alisa Mullins

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Today, lawyers gave their closing arguments in the court case involving Ringling's use of steel-barbed bullhooks and shackles on the elephants it forces to perform. Over the course of the six-week trial, the following evidence was presented:

• Elephants are chained for an average of more than 26 hours at a time, sometimes for as many as 60–100 hours straight on extended trips. Chained and barely able to take a step, the elephants sway neurotically.
• Kenneth Feld—CEO of Feld Entertainment, the company that owns Ringling—had to admit that he's seen handlers use bullhooks to hit elephants in the secret places where the wounds don't show up as much (i.e., under the chin, behind the ear, and on the back of the leg).
• Ringling's animal behaviorist testified that an elephant who had been struck with a bullhook was seen dripping blood on the arena floor during a show.
• In internal e-mails that came to light, a Ringling veterinary assistant reported, "After this morning's baths, at least 4 of the elephants came in with multiple abrasions and lacerations from the [bull]hooks. … The [lacerations] were very visible …. [A handler] applied … wonder dust just before the show." (Wonder Dust is a gray dressing powder that circus workers can use to conceal bloody bullhook wounds.)
• Another internal report documented that Troy Metzler, a longtime Ringling elephant trainer, struck Angelica, a female Asian elephant, three to five times while she was held in stocks before unloading her and then shocking her with an electric prod.
• Two former Ringling employees, who had previously blown the whistle to PETA, described the abuse that they witnessed while working for the circus, including a violent beating of an elephant that lasted at least 30 minutes.

Check back with the PETA Files in the coming months for an update on the verdict. We hope that the elephants win, but regardless of the outcome, the trial has already generated lots of deservedly negative publicity for this miserable circus. And that's a good thing considering how hard Ringling works to put a misleading, positive spin on clamping elephants in irons, dominating and intimidating them with bullhooks, and confining them to boxcars and arena basements for much of their lives.

Written by Alisa Mullins