Clown works to entertain guests at Circus Circus

A little boy sees Dave DeDera and dives behind his mother's legs.

"I'm afraid," he says.

Standing 6 feet 5 inches tall, DeDera cuts an imposing figure. But the red, bulbous nose and giant clown shoes give him otherworldly qualities. And, judging from his reaction, this kid is not ready for an alien encounter today.

But DeDera, 43, just rolls with it. After nearly 18 years working as a clown at Circus Circus, and 25 years in the circus business, DeDera's been there, done that. He's made people laugh; his mere appearance has made them cry. You would be surprised how many adults are afraid of clowns. This reaction is mild, in comparison.

"I'm scared, too, don't worry about it," he tells the boy.

He's joking, of course. But the comment breaks the ice and a group of kids, along with their mothers, surround him in the hotel, begging for attention and photos. By the time DeDera juggles his bowling pins, does a bit where he drops his hat and asks someone to hand it to him, only to drop it again and again, the scared kid has warmed up to him.

An hour later, they run into each other in the Adventuredome, where DeDera is preparing to do a 10-minute performance. He's already visited the hotel lobby and brightened the day of several guests, who couldn't believe their luck at seeing a clown in the lobby of Circus Circus.

This time, the frightened boy has pushed aside his fears of a clown. He sees DeDera and runs toward him.

"Hey, clown!" he shouts.

This, DeDera says, is the best part of his job and what he looks forward to during every shift: having fun with people.

DeDera moved to Las Vegas in 1994, when the town was a mecca for retired circus performers or those who wanted to settle down but still earn a living by practicing their circus art. All five Circus Circus clowns have a Ringling background, including DeDera's wife, Tonya. They met in the circus and fell in love. She was a dancer and then an aerialist before becoming a clown.

The couple left the circus to settle down and start a family. Now they have three daughters, 11, 9 and 4 years old.

In the early '90s, at the height of the "family-friendly" Vegas years, several hotels hired clowns, says Scott Linker, DeDera's friend and fellow Circus Circus clown. When Linker left the circus to move here, his first job was at the Riviera. Even Harrah's had a clown or two.

The Strip is mostly an adult playground now, so the only clowns around are a handful of Cirque du Soleil clowns and the ones under the Circus Circus big top.

It's a given that some will be scared of him. But breaking through their fear is a challenge DeDera takes personally.

"It's amazing how many people are scared of clowns," DeDera says. "I've had adults see me from 50 yards out, turn around, scream and take off. Because of that, you try to tone yourself down."

When DeDera graduated from Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College in 1987, he never imagined he would become a toned-down clown. He spent seven years with the famous circus, most of them as Boss Clown of the Red Unit, being flamboyantly colorful and jokey.

It was a whole other world away from what he originally intended to be: a police officer.

At 19, the Chicago native was studying law enforcement, preparing to join the police academy. His grandfathers had been cops and DeDera thought it would be a great way to help people.

Clowning, and the circus, were not even options. Then one day, the circus came to town, looking for clowns. On a lark, DeDera's uncle took him to watch the auditions. Somehow, DeDera was pulled into the action and one of the circus people said, "You're pretty good. You should try out."

A few weeks later, two letters came in the mail, DeDera says. One was an acceptance letter for the police academy. He was happy. He would live his dream. Then he opened the second letter and confetti flew out of the envelope. Come to clown college, it said.

You know which option he took. But why? Turns out, clowns can help people, too. It's just a different kind of help.

In the circus, the whole point is to stand out so that people high up in the nosebleed sections can see you, DeDera says. Hence, the oversized ties, shoes and clown wigs. The clown uniform isn't just for laughs; it's actually quite practical. Even the makeup serves a purpose, highlighting eyes and mouth so that far-away audiences can see facial expressions.

It's one of the main differences between American and European clowns, DeDera says. European clowns don't wear a lot of makeup or wigs, while American clowns have taken the concept and run with it.

DeDera is like a talking clown history book. Who knew that the clown world had so many layers to it?

For instance, a clown's motto is that you know a little bit of everything but you're not a master of anything. Their only trademark? Makeup. No two clowns look exactly alike.

As a Boss Clown, DeDera passed along his clowning knowledge to young clowns and students at the circus clown college. Since the college closed in 1997, it's tough for a would-be clown to earn an education, at least in the United States.

But DeDera still serves as a boss clown for Las Vegas. When a circus clown moves to Las Vegas, the first person they call is DeDera, Linker says. He's a clown with connections.

"He's really looked up to as a teacher," Linker says. "Dave has that gift of imparting knowledge and working well with people. I think part of that is because his father was a teacher."

Contact reporter Sonya Padgett at
spadgett@reviewjournal.com or 702-380-4564.
Follow @StripSonya on Twitter.