Clown Corps grows into an extended family
Detroit Free Press
by LINDA ERB
It's the one day of the year you don't need to take John Landis seriously.
On Thanksgiving, Landis and other corporate types, community leaders and bigwigs trade in briefcases for baggy pants, foam noses and, well, really big wigs to march in America's Thanksgiving Parade, which begins at 9:30 a.m. at Woodward Avenue and Mack in Detroit.
"And my mother said I'd never amount to anything," he said.
This year's 1.5-mile trek marks the 24th appearance of the Distinguished Clown Corps. And with 126 members expected to march today -- 40 of them newly minted -- the corps is the largest it has been in years and nearly twice the size it was a decade ago.
That's because of junior-generation jesters such as twins Joshua and Jason Kanter. The 22-year-old Michigan State University seniors will accompany their grandfather Austin Kanter, a 21-year veteran clown and president of Kanter Associates insurance agency.
At least 11 other veteran clowns will be accompanied this year by sons and daughters and grandchildren.
"This is truly becoming a legacy," Landis said.
And sometimes even a romance.
Landis' son Kristopher, a Farmington Hills police officer and third-year clown, made his way through the crowd to his girlfriend two years ago.
He tugged out a ring. "Will you marry me?" read the sign behind him.
Perhaps it was the shock of the question. Perhaps, too, it was being asked to marry a man in a giant, spotted hat and ruffles.
She stared, Kristopher Landis recalled, but answered yes.
With families and friends joining veteran clowns, the corps is not only growing, it's deepening its roots, said Joan LeMahieu, president of the Parade Co., which organizes the parade each year.
"It's that the next generation are engaging," she said. "They've watched their parents having fun and they say, 'Why not?' "
Each clown has shelled out -- or found a sponsor for -- the $1,000 fee to be part of the corps. The money is sifted back into the Detroit-based Parade Co.
Traditionally, the distinguished clowns are some of metro Detroit's most important leaders -- bankers, attorneys, business owners and public servants -- whose jobs are to ensure the region's future.
But today's duty? Beads.
The corps is responsible for distributing 300,000 glittering beaded necklaces to the crowd, and the clowns got a head start Wednesday by handing them to travelers at Metro Airport.
The beads, the 5 a.m. wake-ups, the baggy drawers and the thick slathers of white paint are as inextricably part of Thanksgiving as a turkey dinner.
"It just becomes a routine," said Syd Ross, veteran clown and president of the General Wine & Liquor Co. "There are certain things that mentally get you ready for the holidays."
And as with any tradition, he and other clown elders have begun to pass down the trade secrets.
Wear comfortable shoes, advised Linda Orlans, president and owner of Orlans Associates, who with her best friend and daughter had rhinestones studded into their matching Nikes.
Layer underclothing, suggested Ross, who remembers all too well the year when "it was snowing sideways."
And be mindful of the limitations of a one-piece suit during the two-hour trek down Woodward, said the elder Landis.
"It only takes one year to learn: Don't drink a lot of liquid before you leave," he said.
And above all, have lots of fun.
The last guideline seems as natural as the afternoon's football games and the post-pumpkin pie nap.
"It's early, but you get down there and you see what's going on," Jason Kanter said. "It's like it's in the air. It's special. It's unlike any other day of the year in Detroit, and it's great to be right in the middle of it."
