Free Girl and Five Brave Horses, A by Sonora Carver

world, but they didn’t get the publicity our act received, which pleased me immensely. I was careful, however, not to get it in my head that I was a big shot. I knew that it was the act the people came to see, not me, and that it had been the outstanding act of the business long before my time.
    The term “free act” perhaps needs some explanation. A free act is one that is put on as a special attraction at amusement parks and fairs in order to draw a crowd. It is not, as some people assume, an act that performs free.
    The term was coined back in the old days when harness racing was popular. Track managers were hard put to keep the audience occupied, until someone came up with the idea of getting professional performers to entertain during these intervals. The professionals at first were garnered from the circus, and their acts were called “free acts” because no fee was added to the usual cost of admission.
    Later acts were evolved for the special purpose of performing at harness races, acts that had never been and never were part of the circus. Gradually these acts moved away from race tracks into the world of the country or state fair as well as that of the amusement parks. Dr. Carver was astute enough to spot a trend and pioneered in the training of diving horses for the specific purpose of appearing as a free act all over the country.
    By the time spring came Lorena had recovered sufficiently from her leg surgery to be able to ride, so it was she who left with Al when he went out in April to open at the Old Spanish Fort Park in New Orleans. This was fortunate, since Anne, the girl Dr. Carver had hired and trained in Durham the spring before, had turned out to be a poor performer. From Al’s point of view as a showman, she had proved to be a dud by committing the unforgivable crime of climbing off Lightning’s back onto the framework of the tower just as the horse was ready to dive. Though it had been only a temporary loss of nerve, it happened on two occasions, and in Al’s opinion she was all washed up.
    Both he and his father put a great deal of stock in courage. Neither of them had any use for anyone without it; at least not anyone who wanted to ride. In so far as having nerve was concerned, I suppose I had it, but if I did it was no credit to me, since it was as natural to me as fingernails.
    Having courage is, I think, like having money. If a man who has a million dollars walks down the street and sees some valuable article in a shopwindow that he wants to buy, he goes in and buys it without any thought of what it costs, but if a man without any money sees the same article and feels the same desire to own it he immediately realizes he can’t have it because he hasn’t the money. The point is, if you have it you don’t think about it, but if you don’t have it the realization is often thrust upon you.
    Actually, true courage is what it takes to make yourself do something you’re afraid to do. I was not afraid of riding the horses; on the contrary, I loved it and would not have given it up willingly. In the beginning I loved it because I adored the horses and liked traveling around the country, but later the crowds were an added factor. The wolf whistles that followed me up the ramp, the applause that burst out spontaneously as I climbed to the top, the call of the clown in the audience who shouted, “Hold ‘er, Newt, she’s a-rarin”’— these were the people for whom I performed; good-natured, responsive, admiring. I loved them all. But this stage passed; more and more as time went by I discovered I wasn’t riding for their applause. I was riding for the sheer animal thrill I got every time we cleared the tower.
    The physical, wholly sensual pleasure that comes with the drop from the tower down to the tank is a pleasure totally lacking in psychological or philosophical meaning. It’s the sheer exhilaration of being entirely free of the earth as well as everything human; to me no other physical