Sunday Morning with Agent A: Why the "Flying" Wallendas? ...

A most vexing issue that has long vexed me is the apparent willingness of the Wallenda family to tolerate this egregious misnomer of what their act on the high wire is about. Karl Wallenda must be worn out six feet under from spinning in frustration. Nothing better exemplifies this shameless injustice to the legacy of one of Spangeland's greatest circus families than a cheap sit-com crack: "I don't give a flying Wallenda!" Horror of horrors that the survivors of the tragic Detroit fall should have to be subjected to such colossally crude insensitivity. But blame, yes blame a fractured family in part for the crack having been uttered.

The best answer I've so far got was that "flying" attached itself to the image of their Detroit fall back in 1962. And still, the Wallendas themselves have made no effort, to my knowledge, nor for that matter has the circus community itself, to set the media straight.

Finally, I have an answer if not the answer, thanks to a brief encounter by the ice house near the railroad tracks as Agent A drove by in an unmarked black limousine, ostensibly on his way to another encounter with colleagues, the subject of which I was not informed. Down rolled a window, forming a split through which Agent A delivered the essentials, smoothly and to the point:

There are two divisions or factions of the family -- one arm ruled by Ricky Wallenda, the other by Tino. Each is vying to establish itself as the true heir to the legendary act formed and supervised by the late Karl Wallenda.

Ricky calls his group "The Great Wallendas," a name he may have registered for exclusive usage under trade mark protection.

Tino uses the offensive descriptor for 2 reasons. In a conversation with Agent A, Tino once disclosed that, Reason One, he actually adopted "The Flying Wallendas" because of the public's familiarity with the term. Which I find callously expedient and more than monstrously misleading.

Reasons Two, said Tino to Agent A, he was apparently impressed (to me, it sounds amused) by how a reporter, framing a story about his troupe, made it sound as if, indeed, they were flying. Which strikes me as the lamest of rationales from a family member who should know better, that is, unless his wire walkers are so inept aloft as to resemble baby birds testing their tiny wings in trial flight patterns close to the nest, their balance poles flailing about like so many steel feathers.

But when I queried Agent A on this point, up went the window, and off sped his limousine into the murky darkness of a dawn that would neither deliver a circus train or a bright sunny morning.

In the abrupt parting, Agent A did shout back the word "Zerbini!" Leading me to ponder that perhaps he has something to disclose about another famed circus family.

The High Wire Zerbinis?