Billy

Tirko
16 JUGGLE | WINTER 2009
 For over twenty years, I had the great pleasure of knowing Billy Tirko. We first met while I was touring America
with the Harlem Globetrotters in 1977 and ’78, and then again when I was working at the Sheraton Hotel in Valley
Forge, Pennsylvania back in 1982. For the next two decades, I can’t recall a month that went by without a call from
Billy. Whether I was in Reno, Las Vegas, San Juan, Miami, Atlantic City, or Montréal, I am sure there weren’t many
engagements that I concluded without having had an interesting conversation with Billy Tirko.
Much of the following is based on a telephone interview I did with Billy in 1988, when he was 82. I hope it will tell
you a little about this most congenial and interesting friend of juggling.

W
By Dick Franco
illiam Tirko was
born on January 11,
1906 in Catasau-
qua, Pennsylvania,
four miles outside
Allentown. In 1922,
at age sixteen, Billy went to the Allentown
Fair to see a Chinese troupe that was per-
forming in front of the grandstand. They did
a lot of stick juggling, doing many intricate
variations. Billy was fascinated with this
and began to practice juggling. He started
with three stones, then began using apples,
oranges, or any three objects he could get
his hands on. In a short time, Billy could do
three or four tricks, but eventually the tasks
of daily life took over and for the next few
years he lost interest in juggling.
At about age twenty, Billy saw his next live
stage show at the Globe Theatre in Bethlehem,
Pennsylvania. He was very impressed and
although there were no jugglers in the show,
the atmosphere he experienced prompted him
to decide to work in the theatre. Billy liked
juggling and knew he had some talent at it, so
he decided a juggler he would be!
Becoming serious about juggling, he
began to focus on improving his knowledge
and skill. He went to see all of the shows at
the Colonial Vaudeville Theatre in Allen-
town where he saw jugglers Wilfred Dubois,
Charles Carrer, Gaston Palmer, “and a midget
juggler.” He bought Billboard magazine to
find out where other jugglers were working
and found Bobby May, Piletto, Serge Flash,
and Bob Ripa appearing nearby. Billy recalls
that Ripa commented to him that he hated
juggling and that he was forcibly taught by
his father. Billy also noted that Ripa was later
killed in an airplane crash while working for
the USO, at the age of 31.
Billy practiced for many hours every day
and soon developed into a very good juggler.
He could easily do a five-ball shower to the
count of 100, using heavy rubber balls, such
as lacrosse balls. He didn’t know how to cas-
cade five objects until he met Carl Thorson,
the famous cannon ball juggler, who was
appearing with a traveling circus. Thorson
could cascade five cannon balls and taught
the mechanics of the pattern to Billy. In a
short time, Billy was cascading seven balls.
Tirko practiced a lot and perfected some
very difficult tricks, but had not yet worked
professionally as a juggler. While reading
Billboard, he saw an article on (as he remem-
bered it many years later) Enrico Rastelli,
who was appearing in Cincinnati, Ohio.
Billy wrote a letter to Billboard in which he
mentioned that he was a budding young
juggler who could juggle seven balls, and
asked about Frank LeDent, who was said to
be performing with nine. To Billy’s surprise,
Billboard printed the letter verbatim.
As Bobby May often said, “You have to
be prepared to be struck by luck.” By this,
he meant: “You have to practice hard and do
everything you can to improve your skill,
gain experience, and develop your stage per-
sonality, and then hope that a circumstance
will come along that will move you to the
next level.”
Billy Tirko was “struck by luck.”
A magician named Harry Opel from To-
ledo, Ohio read Tirko’s letter in Billboard.
Opel contacted a producer in Menomi-
nee, Wisconsin who operated a traveling
vaudeville tent show and told him about
the letter. A short time later, Billy was
contacted by the producer and got his first
offer for legitimate work. Billy was thrilled
but broke! He had to borrow $15 from his
sister to get to Wisconsin.
The show played out in the sticks of Wis-
consin, where a tent would be set up in the
middle of nowhere and people would come
from all the surrounding little towns and
villages to see the show. Billy recalled feeling
strange his first night sleeping in a new place
and remembered that the show was buzz-
ing about news that “talking pictures” had
just come out. He practiced hard in the days
leading up to his own opening. When the day
finally came, Billy went over great! His act
consisted of a three-ball routine, five balls,
seven balls, three clubs, and Japanese style
ball-and-mouthstick work.
At some point, Billy had asked prop
maker Edward Van Wyck to make a mouth-
stick for him. It was the first mouthstick
Van Wyck ever made, as they had only seen
Rastelli using one and Billy wanted to try it.
Billy’s first year as a juggler was a big suc-

WINTER 2009 | juggle 17

cess. He was making $15 per week plus food
and room — a cot in an eight-by-ten-foot
tent. He managed to save about $90 that sea-
son and the show wanted him back. Billy was
thrilled and decided to winter with the show
in St. Paul, Minnesota. He put his money in
a local bank and lived at the plush YMCA for
$2.50 per week.
One day, Billy got a tip from a friend who
said there was a rumor going around that the
banks were going to fail. That same day Billy
went and took out his money. The next day,
the banks closed!
While in St. Paul, Billy saw many shows
with jugglers. One show he recollected
featured George Moore, who juggled with a
coal bucket, shovel, and broom. (Moore later
performed this stunt in a short film: Drug
Store Follies, a Columbia “Variety Favorites”
short from 1937.) Moore also did tricks with
a washbasin and cascaded an ironing board,
an iron, and a shirt.
After a few months of living “high on the
hog” at the YMCA, money was getting low,
so Billy got a job washing dishes in Alierdi’s
restaurant in exchange for a free meal. By
winter’s end, Billy was “busted” again — flat
broke — but spent another successful season
with the show in Wisconsin. Once he had
some money in his pocket he decided to make
a change and try to move on to better things.
Tirko heard that the 1933 World’s Fair
would be held in Chicago, so he went there
to try to find work. A friend told him to stop
in Detroit and contact Saul Burns, a theatri-
cal agent.
By the time Billy got to Detroit he had
only fifty cents in his pocket and needed to
Kick-up to 4 clubs
18 JUGGLE | WINTER 2009
find some work quick! He wanted to get some
publicity photographs made, but didn’t have
enough money. The photographer he went
to felt sorry for him and offered Billy some
photos he had that another juggler had never
picked up. The shots had been taken from
pretty far back, so Billy thought he might
get away with using them for a while. He ac-
cepted the kindness of the photographer and
went to his interview with Saul Burns using
photos of another act!
Burns booked Billy for three days in a
third class theater for $8, but after the first
show, Burns complained that the photos
weren’t Billy’s and said his act wasn’t up to
par for real theaters. But he liked Billy and
tried to help him to find another contract.
He sent Billy to a Cleveland, Ohio burlesque
house for seven days at $25.
To keep expenses down, Billy got a room
in what he described as “a flop house; a real
lousy place,” where he got a dirty bed full of
fleas and a locker complete with roaches for
25 cents a night.
The 10-ring spin
At the age of 27, Billy wasn’t very good at
managing money and soon ended up broke
again. He slept on a bench in the railway
station and got picked up by the police,
who took him to the station where he was
surprised to get coffee, donuts, and a place to
sleep for the night. The police referred him
to the YMCA. He got a room on credit and
started looking for restaurant work, but no
luck. However, while there at the Y in Cleve-
land, Billy met the Gabi Brothers — jugglers,
who showed him how to do a kick-up from
three to four clubs. Billy learned it and added
it to his act a week later.
One restaurant saw how hungry Billy was
and gave him food. In his later years, Tirko
told many tales of how tough his life had
been — he gathered coal along the railroad
and scavenged for fruit and tidbits to eat.
Later in life he always was highly apprecia-
tive of what he had, and the fact that he was
warm, had food to eat, and was taken care
of. He never was bitter or upset about his lot
in life.
Bobby May lived in Cleveland and loaned
Billy money so he could eat for a while and
get to his next gig, three weeks with the
Royal American Carnival. Billy recalled that
he would be featured in the carnival side-
show on the same bill with famed stripper
Gypsy Rose Lee.
Tirko scoured the Cleveland newspapers
looking for a place he could do a few shows
and make enough money to survive. He heard
there was a fair outside of town, so he hitch-
hiked there and earned $17 for three hours of
juggling. The fair lasted three days and Billy
did as many shows as he could. He arrived
back in Cleveland with $50 in his pocket, paid
his debts, and hit the road to look for more
fairs until his debut with Royal American.
After completing the Royal American
date, Billy found many more fairs. At one of
them a sideshow manager asked him to go
to Florida on his next opening to work in the
Barney Lamb Sideshow for the winter of 1933
and 1934. The money was lousy but Billy
stayed on for a few months before quitting.
The show liked Billy a lot and begged him
to come back for $25 a week plus food. Billy
loved the feeling of being in demand and
gladly accepted. He returned to the show
and did his juggling act, plus set up and tore
down the tent, as well as other miscella-
neous jobs. He stayed with the Barney Lamb
Sideshow for two years and worked hard to
improve his act with every performance.
“The Armless Man” would introduce
Billy’s act as “the butter-fingered juggler with
the dropsies.” Tirko’s spot consisted of three,
four, five, and seven balls, three and four
clubs, and a much improved version of the
Japanese ball-and-mouthstick routine.
He worked the carnival and sideshow
circuit for about ten years, and even ran the
sideshow for a year, later telling friends that
he had never worked so hard and made so lit-
tle money in his life. Yet he stuck with it until
he was drafted by the army at 38. Because of
his age, his draft status was lowered and he
had to wait before induction. Billy returned
to Allentown, Pennsylvania, where he got
part time work as an electrician’s helper and
received training that would come in very
handy later in his life.
When the army called again, Billy was
sent to an infantry unit that was preparing to
go overseas. Yet he was struck by luck again,
as his physical showed he had a hernia. He
was assigned to another post for the hernia
operation and ended up doing light duty in
Indianapolis during his recovery before be-
ing reassigned to the European theater of war
for hazardous duty as an infantry soldier.
On the way to Europe, he made his last
stopover at Fort Meade, Maryland. There was
a civilian show playing there so Billy sneaked
out and asked the officer in charge if he could
be in the show. The sergeant said okay, so
Billy got his props and warmed up. He was
the last act, and went over bigger than any
show he had ever done.
Tirko opened his act with talking, saying
he just arrived and was on his way to Europe.
He did every trick he could do and even
repeated some, but the audience still wanted
more. He had practiced the “cigarette trick”
ever since seeing Bobby May do it, and asked
to borrow a cigarette and match as an encore.
Billy described the scene slowly and with
great drama: “I put the cigarette in the palm
of my hand and threw it behind my back
to a catch in the corner of my mouth — the
crowd reacted. The lit match followed, catch-
ing it in the opposite corner of my mouth
— they reacted again with a ‘woooosh.’ As
I tipped my head to light the cigarette they
were silent, but when they saw the puff of
smoke, they just went wild. I couldn’t believe
it; they just went wild!” Billy received a
standing ovation right when he needed it
most!
He recalled the pandemonium: “The
crowd wouldn’t stop clapping, hollering, and
stomping their feet.” Billy was stunned at his
success. He milked his bow and savored the
moment for as long as he could. He thanked
the audience and told them he was leaving
the next morning for Europe. A colonel in
the company intervened and demanded that
Billy stay on entertaining for the troops. He
cancelled Tirko’s overseas duty and arranged
for him to remain in the Fort Meade unit.
When Billy reported to the base commander
to pick up his new orders, the commander
remarked, “So you’re the guy who is giving
us all this paperwork to do.”
His juggling probably saved his life, keep-
ing him from being sent to active duty on the
front lines. The juggling gave him a much
easier time of it in the army, and he once
even got a three-day pass to go out and buy a
new mouthstick.
Billy worked his juggling act for the USO
for the remainder of the war in 1945. After
the war, he stayed in Sacramento, Califor-
nia for about six months, working in small
shows, nightclubs, and cabarets. He contin-
ued touring until 1952, when he settled down
in Allentown, and limited his performances
to local shows.
Throughout his life, Billy was always of
the opinion that he was a failure at juggling.
Any professional compliment to him would
be met with a tirade in return. After our first
interview, he called me to say he had decided
to forbid the release of it, as he believed that
no one wanted to read about his “miserable”
career. He was actually angry! I disagreed,
and can say we had quite a few conversations
about it after that, until he finally softened.
Eventually, Billy made some photos of
himself in his apartment to accompany the
interview and sent me the negatives in 1988.
My personal opinion is that Billy Tirko
was far from the “miserable failure” he
claimed. Although he did not achieve the
success in the juggling business that some
have, he managed to create his own kind of
success as an experienced performer who
knew when to get out. Billy created a new
life for himself as a union electrician, a line
of work that he could rely on in his later
years. His job supported him financially well
enough that he could still experience and
enjoy juggling and help people around him
until the end of his life.
Billy Tirko was certainly a very feeling
and giving man. I recall sending some things
to Billy from Europe over my years spent
there. I came back to the USA in November
of 1981 to open at the Sheraton Miami and
while checking in at the front desk was
handed a letter from Billy. There was a check
WINTER 2009 | juggle 19

Billy called this his “most
difficult trick.”
20 JUGGLE | WINTER 2009
for $100, supposedly for something he said
he owed me for. I called him to question it
and said I would not cash it. Bobby May had
just died, so Billy said that if I didn’t want the
money to please send it to Emily May to help
pay for Bobby’s headstone.
Tirko was a true fan of juggling but he was
also known for his generosity, and he always
remembered and pointed out the assistance he
received from others during his career.
His long-time friend Bob Good recalls,
“Billy was not a rich man, but he was very
generous with what he had. He certainly
touched a lot of people. I recall an old foot
juggler who did not have any money and
Billy gave him a couple thousand dollars so
he could get a used car.”
Bob continues, “Billy Tirko was kind of
like a grandfather to my one son, John, in
particular. John was twelve or so at the time
and a budding young juggler. Billy enjoyed
watching and challenging him. He told John
that if he could flash seven balls seven out of
ten times, Billy would give him 500 dollars.
John told me he could do it and I said maybe
we should wait a couple of weeks, until Billy
came over for dinner. John threw up four or
five seven-ball flashes and Billy walked over
and said, ‘I know you can do it, John.’ He
gave him the 500 bucks. John loved Billy!”
Good first met Billy in the Allentown
YMCA. Tirko heard that there was a juggler
who practiced there so he went to find Good
in the room where he working out. “He
juggled in the most relaxed manner I ever
saw,” says Bob. “His three-ball routine was
very droll and I wondered what he had up his
sleeve. He proceeded with four, ran five like
nothing, and did six and seven. He still had
his old Harry Lind clubs and showed me a
barrage of tricks with them.”
Even though Billy had not juggled profes-
sionally in many years he maintained a deep
interest in the art of juggling. In addition to
being an accomplished juggler himself, he
was also a storehouse of juggling knowledge
from the vaudeville period.
Billy continued juggling into his seven-
ties, and even his eighties. Bob Good re-
members that even in Billy’s later years, one
of his four-ball moves was “to cascade three
while the fourth ball moved up and down on
the one side.” Paul Bachman recalls, “Billy
showed us a trick with spinning rings — one
around his neck, four on each hand and arm,
and one on each of his legs. He was amazed
that he could still do it and called it luck.
Billy was a great man.”
For the latter half of his life, Tirko made
his money as an electrician. “He was mainly
a gofer,” says Good, “but all the electricians
loved the guy. One day they could not find
him on the jobsite. Finally someone opened
a closet door and there was Billy Tirko, jug-
gling electrical fittings. When he was in his
seventies I can remember coming into his
modest little home in downtown Allentown
and there was Billy working on a five-ball
bounce in the hallway. He enjoyed watching
anyone juggle at the local juggling club or at
his home.”
Good tells of going with Billy and Al
Grout — another Allentown area juggler
— to a toy store, where they bought about
twenty large balls for spinning. This was
early in their friendship, and Billy said to just
pickout some balls and they would try them.
Once the balls were chosen, Billy footed the
bill. “He made sure we had props to monkey
with when we came to visit. Michael Marlin,
Steve Mills, Paul Bachman, Jay Green, The
Gizmo Guys, and Clockwork were just a few
of the jugglers who showed up at Tirko’s
place. There were always plenty of props to
use, and the one room had the scuff marks
on the walls and ceiling to prove it.”
Billy stayed in touch with juggling friends
through phone calls and letters, and he was
fascinated with watching juggling acts on
video. For Bob Good, who lived close enough
to visit on a regular basis, “Thursday night
was ‘Tirko Night’ for many years. In the early
years we watched movies projected onto
his refrigerator. Billy bought a videotape
recorder early on and had no idea what to
do with it. I found a guy who had a Betamax
VCR and he explained everything about
how it worked. Of course, this guy got lots of
phone calls every time Billy would get stuck.”
Eventually, Tirko had two television
sets, one on top of the other, and two video
recorders, one VHS and one Beta. “It was al-
ways fun to watch him switch cords to watch
this and that,” says Good. “We had plenty of
juggling to watch, but Billy liked any kind of
good performer.”
Paul Bachman tells of one visit to Allen-
town: “Billy was half blind and a big smoker.
It took me twenty minutes to take the yellow
off his TV screen so he could see the acts on
his videos better.”
Billy was an avid collector of juggling
videos. He scoured the TV guides looking for
shows about circus or variety. If I happened
to hear about a juggler being on TV or one
that I might have missed, a telephone call
to Billy was all it took to make sure it was
recorded. A week later the tape would be in
my mailbox or held by “Billy’s Video Service”
until I had an address for him to mail it to.
He would always follow up to make sure I
received it and converse about it.
A video he watched often was of juggler
Harry Otto, who appeared on the TV show
You Asked For It. As Bob Good tells it, “Otto
was a billiard ball juggler who dropped
unbelievably on this national TV show. Al
Grout and I thought Otto was hilarious, but
Billy always admired Harry for sticking to
the task and getting the job done. Little did
Billy in 1988
we know we would feel the same someday.”
Billy Tirko passed away on August 22,
1998. “Billy eventually got forgetful and
did not want you to visit too much,” says
Good. “The last time I saw him he was in
a hospital type situation. He talked like he
knew me, but said he had no recollection of
his juggling.”
When Bob Good gave the eulogy at Billy’s
funeral, he said that Billy Tirko didn’t like
juggling; he loved juggling. “It must have
been on his mind daily. He loved juggling,
but he also loved life and those around him.
He helped many people, and they were not
all jugglers. He had an alert mind and was
always open to new things.”
There have been many people I have
known who have built their reputation on
their juggling abilities only to fail miserably
at the personal level. Billy Tirko had success
at both levels. Being known for the latter
is certainly the more important. Besides
being an excellent juggler with an interest-
ing career, Billy Tirko was a nice guy. A
nicer person you could never know, and long
after his juggling skills failed he remained
a nice guy who always had a good word for
everyone. He was a true example of kindness
and humility that many jugglers of today can
learn from.
The first interview for this article was done
by telephone from Atlantic City, New Jersey
on April 23, 1988. Due to Dick Franco’s
travel schedule over the years, the article not
completed until 21 years later, in August 2009.
WINTER 2009 | juggle 21