The Knife Thrower's Assistant by Ula 4/13/03 What kind of a woman would allow herself to be the target of a knife thrower?? This is a question I was asking myself that afternoon as I sat on Throwdini's couch for the first time. After a couple months of making and breaking appointments, I finally drove out to Jones Beach to talk with Throwdini about his act and what I might add to it. Why was I even thinking of taking the job?? --It certainly wasn't the money. Although Throwdini was the number one knife thrower in the country, (I wouldn't have considered otherwise) he hadn't been performing long, and the act didn't get top bill yet. I had every reason not to go. The first one being obvious - a knife in the face or chest--doesn't matter how much insurance a guy has, doesn't matter if his daughter is an excellent NY surgeon - that's just not a pretty image. The other reason was the way he spoke of his past assistants. He complained a lot about them, and never acknowledged the psychological stress that may have led up to their actions that upset him. He didn't appear to have a lot of empathy for their position. On the phone I told him that he would have to teach me how to throw knives as well, or I couldn't do it. He agreed. And so, there I sat on his couch, and listened to him talk about his act, and about knife throwing, and about "Girl on a Bridge". Throwdini had an odd fascination with the movie. He kept telling me what an amazing yet nebulous relationship the two main characters (a knife thrower and his assistant) had, and describing how it came out with intensity during their performances. This was the type of intensity he wanted to recreate for his own show. Throwdini's act was slightly different from traditional knife acts. He wore a tuxedo in place of western gear. He also had this idea that he wanted to tell jokes and make the act slightly humorous, maybe to lighten the impact of the knives. I argued that I didn't think throwing knives at another human was very funny, however I thought it would be a riot if I came out wearing a full suit of armor. This was our first disagreement. In my head I kept going over my reasons for wanting to try this, secretly hoping that the real reason I was there wasn't that I had finally completely lost my mind and any vestiges of self respect I might have. --It may be necessary to explain also, that another reason Throwdini had been asking me to be his assistant was because of my experience with danger: I have been a professional trapeze artist for the last 10 years, as well as doing a sideshow act involving a bed of machetes; but I always shied away from things like balancing acts, where my safety was left in the hands of another. I sat with my legs crossed - every so often Throwdini would stress a point by lightly touching my knee. It happened two or three times, making me slightly uncomfortable. Eventually I mentioned to him that I don't like to be touched by someone who is not a close friend, but not wanting to offend the hand that would later be throwing, I ignored it for the moment and silently thought about things, telling myself why I was here again: 1) I would learn two new skills -- throwing knives, and the art of assistance (it is an art); 2) I would help a fellow artist to refine an act, at the same time, perhaps spicing up the female role; 3) It would be a new life experience; 4) As a kung fu student I could get first hand knowledge of how it felt to have a knife thrown at me-maybe it was even possible to catch a knife; 5) it was an excuse to buy that platinum blonde wig I always wanted; 6) It would help the survival of the western arts --- A great great great uncle of mine was a friend of Wild Bill Hickock-makes me feel slightly responsible to carry on the tradition. Family legend stated that Uncle Tom used to run around with Wild Bill Hickock when he was in town, and when Bill was on the road, Tom would tend his ranch for him. My mother's family has always bragged of being Pioneer Stock. I'm proud to say I come from a long line of mountain men who traveled across the country generations ago, facing hostile Mormons and Indians as well as the dangers of the mountains and uncharted territory to finally end up in Mackie and Salmon, ID. Grandma always has great stories to tell about the family. Her Grandmother, (Tom's Sister) Alura Belle "Granny" Wornek was a hefty woman who could shoot a rifle and kick the top of a door well into her eighties. Granny was "adopted" from some tribe in Missouri - no one knew which nation though, because "back then you didn't talk about being Indian". Andrew Meyers--Granny's adopted father, was killed by lightning; they found him standing in a well he was digging, still holding his shovel... Throwdini continued on, talking about Chi Chi Whitecloud, whose family had started out the tradition with Bill Hickock's Wild West Show in the 19th century; touching my knee again,jarring my contemplation.... What kind of a man would throw knives at a living human target? If Throwdini hadn't been such an intriguing person, I doubt I would have been interested in the job. Here was a man who held a doctorate in physiology, who was also a minister, owner of a pool hall, and had a beautiful home and family. Throwdini, or - "The Reverend Doctor David Adamovich" as it said on his answering machine -- a fifty-six year old who suddenly had a crazy dream of becoming a world famous knife thrower, was far too compelling a personality for me to turn down. I love being around people who can teach me something new or surprise me somehow. David was definitely smart. He also had an undeniable natural talent for knife throwing. Was he so smart he regarded everyone else as stupid? Did he have so much belief in his abilities that he felt he didn't need to be concerned about his subject? - was I being paranoid? I had pulled my van up to Throws driveway at about 4 o'clock, immediately feeling a little cheated. For 10 years I had struggled in New York as an artist because for some reason I believed in the cause --music and free expression - my lifelong loves. From outside looking in, at first glance, Throwdini seemed the epitome of the Long Island yuppie. Here in front of me was a large house, right on the water. Parked in his driveway was his wife's Mercedes, and his red Hummer. A beautiful white boxer whom I later got to know as Phantom barked at his doorway. Before going in I was already sure I would see very few books, lots of appliances and televisions, Coach bags, and J Crew clothing. What exactly did Throwdini need from this act? He didn't need it to help pay his bills. What could his goals possibly be? Was this just some weird fetish of his? David joined Phantom at his back door, smiling and telling me to park beside the Hummer. Realizing that I was judging him more harshly than people judged me for my lifestyle, I tried to clear my head and go in with no preconceptions. Throwdini led me into the big house. The door opened into his very large living room and dining room. I was stunned by the view of the water and boats right outside his sliding glass doors. To my left was the kitchen and behind that, his humble wedding chapel. David's first words to me weren't "Can I offer you anything to drink?", but "How much time do you have?". Okay, I confess, I had arrived three hours later than originally scheduled. He had justifiable reason to be annoyed, so I would let it slide. "About an hour and a half" I said. He had then hastily led me upstairs to the attic where his practice room was located and our first conversation about knife throwing began. The walls and the knife board were red. The attic room was slightly chilly. I was getting tired of sitting on his couch. He asked if I was ready to start. My First lesson: Upon request, Throwdini handed me his knife to inspect. It was cold and heavy, with no wooden handle, but instead, tape wrapped around the part where a hand would grasp it. Smooth, dull sides led to a diamond shaped tip. The sides of the diamond were also dull, but the point was sharp. Sharp enough to penetrate the wood (or my flesh) but thick enough so it wouldn't be damaged by repeated impacts. He explained how a dart flies straight, but a knife turns in the air before hitting it's target. Therefore, a knife must be thrown not only with accuracy and straightness, but also with timing. If a knife makes contact too far into the spin, it will be the side or the hilt, not the point that hits, and the knife will fall to the ground. A good antidote for fear is knowledge; it gave me comfort to know that I had two things going for me. Besides Throwdini's good aim, I was to stand 6 inches in front of the board. If his knife was aimed at the distance of the board, if by some freak chance his aim was faulty, as long as his timing was still on, the side, not the point would strike me. My first few throws bounced off the wood. Backing me up, sliding me forward, making my arm follow through after the throw, Throwdini finally succeeded in teaching me how to sink the point into the pine. After the initial awkwardness was past, David asked if I was ready to step in front of the board. A few years back I worked a job with professional stunt-women. It was a party for the opening of Jesus Christ Superstar. They hung us about 50 feet up in harnesses. We were supposed to be angels, blessing the evening with the silver confetti we dropped on the guests from sacks attached to our white robes. It would have been a good idea, but the event planner overlooked the fact that it was a dinner party, and we were actually just dropping a lot of shit into the food of the people eating below us. At one point I thought it would look especially angelic if I wiggled my toes (we were barefoot) and watched as some dirt and toejam fell from my feet along with the confetti. The stunt women working with me weren't at all as I imagined they would be. They both looked like they were in good shape. However, they were both very nervous people. One seemed to have very sluggish reactions, like people taking methadone tend to act. The other just seemed really stressed out, and kind of shaky, like she had done too much in her lifetime. I think back to these two women every time I try something new and dangerous. Kind of like a gauge, they are my reality check of how much more I can take. I felt sort of calm as I allowed David to place me in front of the board. Asking me to raise my arms above my head - he nodded approval and turned, walking back to his mark. I wondered if I would be able to see the knife coming at me, or if it traveled to fast to notice.... David blinked from behind his spectacles. I took one final deep breath, watching David's hand go back behind his shoulder and then towards me, letting a knife go with it. I barely saw a fast silver streak before the loud thunk rung out from the board to the left of my head. The pounding in my chest let me know that I was still alive. I felt no pain. Five more knives thudded into the board on both sides of my body. Some were as close as 3 inches away from my skin, but none of the knives pierced me. Our first show was December 28th, 2002. It was for Todd Robbins' Sideshow Saturday Night. In preparation I had gone wig hunting and found what I was looking for on 6th Avenue. The Alicia 613 - forty dollars plus tax -- was the most exciting thing I had added to my costume collection since my skunk collar. The day I bought it I wore it around the house for hours. Wearing it altered my entire personality as well as my voice and the way I walk. I felt that an act such as Throwdini's required a really cool collected blonde. As I rode the train to Freeport Saturday afternoon to practice once more before the show, I realized that despite trying to convince myself that I was a brave woman, on the first couple visits to Throwdini's house I had felt very threatened by having knives thrown around me. ( I used to say "knives thrown AT me" until Throwdini explained this was WRONG--the knives are thrown AROUND me.). This was making me very defensive and slightly negative. I vowed to be more positive this time. My train and I arrived on schedule. David picked me up at the station. As I walked through the front door his wife Barbara immediately offered me tea, and Throwdini fixed me a plate of his fresh baked bread and homemade mozzarella. Despite my previous complaints, this new welcome made me slightly uneasy. Suddenly I felt a little like the Turkey before Thanksgiving. Loading into the Soho Theater was a drag. Throwdini, does not travel light: one knife board 4 x 6 feet (unassembled), the tools to build it, the knives, the balloons, the tables, the axes and machetes, the costumes, mouse amp, digital camera. His props were all very organized, the set up time was less than I anticipated. Down in the dressing room, Throwdini was more shocked by my load in - the way my things spread chaotically out across the dressing table. My shoes, wig, eyelashes, brushes, and bags of makeup somehow managed to immediately march across the counters with a will of their own. Throwdini commented that we were like the odd couple. The act was stunt choreographed, but Throwdini's lines were all improvised. It's kind of funny the variety of thoughts and free word association that goes on while watching knives fly by you. As Throwdini walked on stage that first evening he exclaimed, "No proper gentleman would leave his home without (pausing) --one of THESE" and, a la Crocodile Dundee, pulled a giant Australian bowie knife out of his tuxedo, throwing it at the board. Once my grandfather paid an unexpected visit to my mother and me at our home in Scottsdale, AZ. He was on his way to Australia to make his fortune hunting for opals. I must have been about 10 years old. My mother hadn't seen him in 15 years. Gerold Amonson was always an adventurer. Maybe it came from his Viking blood. Gerold's father, Albert Amonson was full-blooded Norwegian, and his mother Ida was Swedish. Gerold served in the Navy in W.W.II. After my grandmother divorced him he went to Alaska to work on the pipeline. Since then he had traveled and worked all over the states. Now that he was leaving the continent it was time to say farewell. He stayed with us a few days, living in his big RV. I don't remember much about the trailer, except the cupboards were filled top to bottom with every kind of Campbell's soup imaginable. While he was in town he took it upon himself to teach me how to play pool. Gerold left as unexpectedly as he arrived. I haven't seen him since, and often wonder how he fared in Australia.... The finale of the act was always a flaming bowie knife thrown at a card hung on the board. A blank in the center of the knife would explode with a loud bang. The most terrifying moments of the show for me: an axe popping a balloon between my legs, and the profile number-Facing sideways I'm arched backward with knives being thrown up the front line of my body. It's because of that trick that I make sure to wear two padded bras. In January and February we did a number of shows together, with Chris McDaniel, the western whip cracker and roper coaching us and helping to refine the act. Suddenly we had a script, and it would change constantly; which is kind of a nerve-wracking thing when you're already on edge. One afternoon when I arrived at his home to practice, Throwdini exclaimed that he was now able to catch a knife being thrown at him. He tried with renewed gusto to get me to throw knives with a full spin in order to add the trick, but it was no use. Knives would just bounce of the board, landing on the floor with a loud noise, upsetting Phantom downstairs. Telemundo interviewed us. On a Saturday afternoon, before a gig at Sideshow Saturday Night, we all met at David's house. One of their primary interests was the fact that David was a minister. Telemundo asked David if he prayed before throwing the knives. David answered no, that would be an insult to his skill. The date was the 13th. It was a full moon. I was sure at that moment I was a dead woman and God would strike me down that evening. Telemundo asked me if I ever said a prayer as I watched the knives coming from David's hands. I lied to back David up and said No. Actually, there are two things I make sure to do before every show: I always go to the bathroom, and I always say a quick prayer before going on stage. I had learned a little about David the clergyman by the second show we did together. It was for a magician's dinner. Two hundred magicians and their families gathered in Seaford, Long Island. As usual we met at David's home, but this time, instead of his customary jeans and fleece, he was dressed in white robes. We were going to go marry some couple on our way to the gig. I asked David why he had become a minister. "To beat them at their own game." he responded. Raised a Catholic, with experience as an altar boy, I think he may have been slightly bitter that in order to get married in a Catholic Church you have to abide by their rules and pay a lot of money, and in order to get an annulment you have to pay even more money. I knew Barbara was his second wife - it was just a theory. A week later we went to lunch in Chinatown. Over a meal of bow won gai David informed me that the check from the couple he had married the night of the gig in Seaford had bounced. We bought matching costumes on Canal street - a black cocktail dress and a Chinese dinner jacket. As time went on I learned more little tidbits about the man: Over coffee before a show we sat watching as the table next to us ate smores out of a fondue server. I found it very humorously New York. David didn't know what smores were, and I discovered he had never been camping, and had breezed through the Grand Canyon (my beloved home state of Arizona-I was aghast!) in a half hour. This is a man who sat for 7 days straight locked in a room making a flowchart of what to do in case of cardiac arrest - a "translation" of the A.C.L.S. - advanced cardiac life support document written by the American Heart Association. I am a girl who, at age five, lived all summer with my family in a teepee built by my Uncle Jim. There were certain things we would never see eye to eye on, yet we could sit in front of a computer discussing website building for hours. It seemed like David was a very universal order kinda person. Very Logical. Didn't use or understand euphemisms either. I'm a fan of logic too, but I come more from the natural, entropic side. I began to wonder if David saw people and morals as a big flowchart: bounced check=stupid=bad. balanced checkbook=smart=good. I bet he had to think up new equations for me.... cour·age n: the ability to face danger, difficulty, uncertainty, or pain without being overcome by fear or being deflected from a chosen course of action Where does courage come from? An inability to see consequences? The belief that very few things could be worse than the pain one has already been through? An acceptance of fate - whatever happens, happens so face the challenges as they come? Or a passion for life and anything - good or bad - it might have to offer? It's now four months and ten shows after that first cold day up in Throwdini's attic. I'm still alive, unscathed, and uncut. My boss has become a great friend. Audiences are always curious why I took this job. "New York City rent" as an answer doesn't seem to appease them. I like to look at it from a Buddhist view.... how many offers to you get to be assistant to a knife thrower? It must be my path. The alternative Catholic -"I deserve it"- isn't very appealing, although I entertain a Evangelistic view from time to time:--The knives are being thrown by a minister for Christ's sake!!! If one hits me, I can find some consolation that it was God's will himself!! Another factor in my employment decision might have been the Trade Center tragedy - as odd as it may seem. Thousands of people died a little over a year ago--only because they went into work at their office job. At least I can see the knives coming at me. It's frightening to some that I am to putting myself in danger willingly, but millions of people drive on Friday and Saturday nights when there are drunks on the road. You have no idea when one of them would smash into you, yet no one is scared to go out. --Yes, I am trusting my life to another human's hands. But - I trust my own judgment of another person's abilities - especially circus related. And yes, I do have my doubts from time to time. Not of David's abilities but of his ego or nerves and it's affect on his abilities. He's only human. Maybe people are more horrified at their own excitement while watching the knives get thrown. I stopped looking at older female audience members during a show because the sight of them gasping while clutching their breast in a mixture of horror and elation kind of freaks me out. Am I just the product of my generation? No.--Knife throwing is an old act. So is high wire. And rodeo. And stone throwing, witch burning, beheading, Roman gladiators, jousting, dog fights,you name it--we, humans, love it. And we love a vulnerable woman. Isn't there something oddly attractive about the woman in danger? I remember seeing lots of soundless black and white movies with a girl tied to the railroad tracks or a girl tied to a sawmill by some evil perverted landlord. Perhaps a day will come when I'll have to pay the price for my life decisions. I recently saw a picture in a magazine of a Rwandan who was slashed repeatedly in the face with a machete. He had five long scars on the right half of his face, and a deformed lip. I gamble - facing possible pain and mutilation if I lose because---why?? for the silly yet absolutely necessary reason of live entertainment.? I guess I believe in freedom of the human spirit...??? I think I just share the same ironic sense of humor that fate has. I'm pretty sure Fate would rather grab me from behind than let me know it's coming. I could play it safe, get a desk job, save my pennies and die of breast cancer. Mortality - it's the one thing in life that's guaranteed. So I have agreed to help a world champion knife thrower to share his skills with the world, and keep a dying art (no pun intended) alive. It will probably insure that I either live a long life and die in my sleep, or accidentally slip in the tub getting a fatal blow to the head. Life - it should either be spent having kids and making them into great people; pursuing knowledge and science: furthering civilization; or promoting the ridiculous - showing people amazing things they've never seen to remind them how meaningless and temporary everything is anyway. Some girls have it easy, and some girls have knives thrown at--I mean-- around 'em. That's just the way it goes.

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