Creepy Clown Sightings Hurting Real Clowns' Business In Texas And Elsewhere

AUSTIN, TX — The clowning profession is under attack and in jeopardy in the wake of creepy clown sightings in Texas and beyond.

"We are passionate about giving back to others, bringing joy to people," professional clown Diana McCurtain-Talbert told KENS-TV. "And to now have to be afraid of going out to do your job well is really sad."

Talbert condemned the actions of those posing as clowns toward the aim of scaring people, reports of such behavior reported now in multiple states. "They are not clowns," Talbert asserted. "They are impersonating something that is really good and really pure and they are making it ugly."

For Talbert's family, clowning is serious business. Her 21-year-old son, Seth, has followed in her cartoonishly large shoes and performs under the artistic name "Buttons." He, too, is now anxious, and his earnings have shrunk in the wake of mass sightings of pseudo-clowns spreading fear, not mirth.

"He can do one birthday party for a month and he's good," Talbert said, explaining how lucrative clowning can be for the serious practitioner. "He's not going to have to make any more money."

Everything's changed now. In light of the bad clown actors appropriating clowning for nefarious purposes, both mother and son are anxious about their clowning future. Talbert said some clown colleagues in Dallas have even received threats from a clown-fearing demographic: "They did get some threats on their voicemail saying 'We are going to come find you. We are going to get you.' "

Once beloved, clowns have long entertained children with their antics, from the iconic Bozo the Clown to even a figure like Ronald McDonald — at least until the high-caloric content of his products was revealed, sending him into oblivion for having pitched the fatty products for so long.

In the coastal city of Corpus Christi, Texas, professional clowns are also anxious.

"Well this is not only just a character, it's a job, so it's... I go out and entertain and do parties and stuff like that, and it really hurts it hurts the business because of all this," Lucky The Clown told KRIS-TV.

A colleague, John Pantoja, aka the "Corpus Christi Joker," might be worse off. Long before the creepy clown outbreak, he was known for his edgier clown performances mimicking a comic book villain. Where crowds once suspended disbelief to understand his act portraying a villainous clown was just make-believe, the creepy clown incidents have infused anxiety into his work.

"It's not fair because we're always trying to do something great for the community, for Corpus," he said. " 'Cause that's what it's all about, is our hometown. When they start affecting us like that it really hurts us," Pantoja told the news station.

Its not just Texas clowns impacted negatively by the creepy clown hysteria. In neighboring New Mexico, Debi Saylor Pierce has performed in Albuquerque as "Twinkles the Clown" for 30 years. But she, too, has seen her business decline in light of the creepy clown epidemic.

"It's horrible they're using this avenue to hurt people or to scare people," Pierce told KOAT-TV. "October is usually a really great month for me. My business has slowed down, now I'm wondering if this is related."

Some 800 miles to the east, clowns in Tennessee are also reporting an erosion in business in light of creepy clown sightings.

"It's kind of funny how you think about, you drive by and people look at you as a clown a year ago and now you're thinking, 'Am I scaring these people?' " 20-year clowning veteran Randy Montgomery said in a reflective interview on News 3.

He told the station he also fears being arrested in his clowning garb on suspicion of being a creepy clown up to no good rather than a professional performer.

But back to Texas. The state has had its share of creepy clown sightings. On Wednesday, Austin police reported they had issued an arrest warrant connected to a series of clown threats.

Before that, several incidents had been reported far and wide:

• In Corpus Christi, someone posted a clown photo on social media while revealing plans to visit 10 campuses. A seventh-grader now faces disciplinary action for encouraging the clown to visit his school, KRIS-TV reported.
• In the Dallas-Fort Worth area, a number of creepy clown sightings have been reported, including reports of a clown running along a sidewalk in a residential neighborhood amid about a dozen more similar sightings.
• In Southlake, several clown reports have been made by residents starting this past Monday.
• In Austin, creepy clowns have made threats at several schools, including Martin Middle School and Reagan and Travis early college high schools.
• At Texas State University on Monday, a woman reported having been chased and then grabbed by a clown outside a dormitory. The attack occurred outside the Bobcat Village Apartments on the campus located in San Marcos, Texas, just outside of San Antonio.

So why are some people afraid of clowns? San Antonio writer Cary Clack, formerly of the San Antonio Express-News, concedes a slight phobia of the heavily made up entertainers. A collection of columns he wrote during his many years at the Express-News alluded to this fear, titled "Clowns and Rats Scare Me."

"While I do exaggerate my fear of clowns, it does come from somewhere and they have creeped me out most of my life and, yes, as I've gotten older," he told Patch. "More than anything it may have to do with the fixed, insincere and painted smile. I'm not even sure that my writing that I exaggerate my fear of clowns is true or something I'm trying to convince myself of since I am capable of having fun with it."

But Clack assures his fear isn't out of control but more subdued, and he doesn't flee at the mere sight of a clown: "I don't freak out if I'm at a carnival or something and see a clown working or walking around -- although there may be a moment of hesitation. But they bother me."

Talbert, the professional clown from San Antonio clown, just wants the fear of clowns to stop. Before her bottom line is further eroded in the wake of mass clown sightings, she just wants it to stop.

"This is a part-time thing for me," she told the San Antonio television station. "There are people who make a living doing this and it makes it harder for them to be able to do their jobs because of how clowns are being portrayed."

Belying the clownish maneuverings of their profession, clowns -- real ones spending years mastering their craft — are serious people, as evidenced by the website of Clowns of America, International, a dues-paying group for professionals.

CAI hands out lifetime clowning awards, assembles a continually developing ring of honor, bestows a "Clown of the Year" honor and more recognition for clowns. Scholarships and grants are given to help up-and-comers perfect their profession. Arguably the most exciting news on the CAI website involves preparations for an upcoming national clowning convention scheduled early next year in Kansas City, Missouri. This year's theme: "Clowny Toons."

Another dues-paying group, the World Clown Association, has an ambitious mission statement befitting its globe-referencing name: "The World Clown Association exists to serve the needs of the members of the Association, to serve the needs of local affiliate clown alleys, and to promote the art of clowning throughout the world."

As described on the websites, professional clowns perform important work that includes visiting sick children in hospitals to help cheer them up and buoy their spirits.

There was a time in the not-too-distant past that even the thought of clowns' antics delighted and amused. In a classic episode of "The Mary Tyler Moore Show," the eponymous character is seen at a funeral for "Chuckles the Clown," trying hard to contain her laughter as a priest eulogizes the fallen entertainer, a victim of an elephant trampling while dressed as a peanut.

"Chuckles the Clown brought pleasure to millions," the priest's eulogy began. "The characters he created will be remembered by children and adults alike: Peter Peanut; Mr. Fee-Fi-Fo; Billy Banana; and my particular favorite, Aunt Yoo-Hoo."

At this point, the title character can hardly contain herself.

"There was always some deeper meaning to whatever Chuckles did," the priest continues. "Do you remember Mr. Fee-Fi-Fo's little catchphrase? Remember how, when his arch-rival Señor Kaboom hit him with a giant cucumber and knocked him down, Mr. Fee-Fi-Fo would always pick himself up, dust himself off, and say, 'I hurt my foo-foo'? Life's a lot like that."

That's when she starts to lose it.

"And what did Chuckles ask in return?" the priest mercilessly continues. "Not much. In his own words, 'A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants.' "

That's when she loses it.

It used to be that way with clowns. We laughed out loud (not LOL, but real laughter) at their antics, and even their memory elicited smiles. But now, we find ourselves in the midst of a creepy clown hysteria as bad actors appropriate the time-honored clown tradition toward nefarious ends.

How times have changed.

>>> Image: William Gray, via Flickr