For a Mason who travels—especially as an RV’er—the image of the Shriner Clown is iconic. I’ve lost count of how many “Coolest Life” videos I’ve watched, following along as a Mason traveled the country visiting circuses, Shrines, and parades.
On December 11, 2024, I decided it was time to stop watching and start participating. I headed to the Kena Klown Club to see if I had what it takes.
The “interview” process was unlike anything else in the fraternity. They gave me a paper plate to write my contact information on, and I got a little artistic, drawing my name in big letters. After answering a few questions about my background, I was asked to wait outside. From behind the closed doors, I could hear the sounds of an absolute ruckus—shouting, fighting, and horns honking. When they finally invited me back in, I was told I had been accepted as a probationary clown, pending two successful “dressouts.”
Becoming Leonardo
In the world of clowning, you don’t just put on a costume; you build a character. I was told to “pick my nose” (a foam one, of course) and pick a name. My clown name was “Leonardo.” It felt like a perfect fit, bridging my technical background with my love for artistic expression.
In the world of clowning, you don’t just put on a costume; you build a character. I was told to “pick my nose” (a foam one, of course) and pick a name. My clown name was “Leonardo.” It felt like a perfect fit, bridging my technical background with my love for artistic expression.
I also had to choose a “type.” The door leading into the clowns’ club room was painted with many clowns, showing a variety of types. While many go for the classic whiteface or the goofy Auguste, I felt drawn to the Hobo Clown. There’s a quiet, soulful history to the hobo clown that resonates with me—a character who finds joy and humor even in life’s humble moments.
Breaking the Rules for a Cause
I quickly learned that clowns occupy a unique space in the Shrine. We are allowed—and expected—to break the rules of “stiff decorum” to provide entertainment and break up the hum-drum of formal events. I began learning the craft:
- Magic and Props: Learning a few tricks to keep an audience engaged.
- The “Clown Face”: Understanding the psychology of clowning, including why some adults are deathly afraid of clowns because the brain struggles to recognize a “normal” face under the makeup.
- The Wardrobe: Getting an education on where to find the right clothes and how to build the look.
The Three Essentials
The veterans in the club told me that a clown should never be caught empty-handed. I’ve been instructed to always have three things on me:
- A Balloon (and the skill to sculpt it): There is no faster way to turn a child’s (or an adult’s) day around than by twisting a piece of latex into a dog, a sword, or a hat.
- A Magic Trick: I need to have a “pocket miracle” ready to go at a moment’s notice—something that can break the ice and create a sense of wonder in a split second.
- A Skit Mentality: I’m currently studying the timing and the “bits” that allow a clown to interact with a crowd without saying a single word.
The Quest for the Red Sneakers
One of the most important requirements for a Kena Klown is supporting the Red Sneaker Fund, a philanthropic effort for burn research. This means I need to wear red Converse All-Star sneakers.
However, as I learned with my Fez, having large feet complicates things. Finding red All-Stars in my size has proven to be quite a quest, given their rarity. But like any good clown, I know that the struggle is part of the story. I eventually found a size 12, which I could squeeze into, though I usually wear a size 13 wide.
A Secret Signal in Plain Sight
It turns out the red shoes act as a “visual shorthand.” When I’m at the Kena Shrine for a meeting or a dinner, wearing those sneakers is the quickest way for brothers to identify me as a member of the Klown Club.
Even without the oversized coat, the charred hobo face, or the foam nose, the red shoes tell a story. They say: “I‘m part of the group that breaks the stiff decorum to bring a smile to your face.” It’s a way to maintain the club’s identity even when we follow the more formal rules of the Shrine. It also means that if I’m dressed up as a clown at a non-shrine event, then I can’t wear these specific shoes.
More Than Just a Joke
Clowning is about more than just making people laugh; it’s about a unique form of service. Whether it’s raising money for the hospitals or simply bringing a smile to someone who is having a hard day, being “Leonardo” allows me to serve with a sense of play. I’m looking forward to my dressouts and officially joining the ranks of those who use humor to change the world.
