Too old? Acrobat, 80, isn’t falling for that

ST. LOUIS – For most octogenarians, being able to squeeze into a stoplight-red acrobat leotard and fishnet stockings, and proudly walk outside without the aid of a cane, would be cause for celebration.

For Elizabeth “Bunny” Herring, putting on the costume is the easy part.

Flying through the air, more than 10 feet above a concrete floor while hanging onto a trapeze by the strength of a single frail ankle – now that’s a bit trickier.

A former debutante whose family tree goes back to St. Louis’ founding fathers, Herring shocked her parents in 1946 when she ran away from her ballet training in New York to join the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus.

For nearly three years, she rode horses bareback under the Big Top, lay still on the ground as elephants placed their feet on her face and slipped into glitzy costumes to dance between acts as a “ballet broad.”

“Even after I left in 1949 to get married and raise a family, I always missed the life,” said Herring, a widow and a grandmother of five. “I’ve always wanted to go back.”

Tonight, Herring will get her wish.

She will celebrate her 80th birthday at the St. Louis City Museum, which houses a reproduction of a circus tent. There, above the crowd, she will climb into a lyra trapeze – a large aerial hoop – and spin and twirl through the air to Verdi’s “Rigoletto.”

Without a safety net.

A few hundred people, including friends and family, will be there to watch her and, she hopes, donate money to her favorite circus and thespian nonprofits. In re-entering the circus ring, Herring figured, who wouldn’t pay to see an octogenarian swing through the air?

Three months ago, Herring began working with trainers at Circus Day Foundation, a nonprofit where Herring has volunteered. It teaches children and adults to juggle, walk tightropes and balance on bars no thicker than a closet rod.

“In the ring, you are what you make of yourself,” said Jessica Hentoff, the foundation’s artistic executive director. “In the ring, Bunny isn’t an old woman. She’s an amazing performer.”

Herring doesn’t look like a thrill-seeker. Her 5-foot-4, 125-pound frame is birdlike. She is hard of hearing so she reads lips to help fill in what her hearing aid can’t catch.

She’s also incredibly flexible. As Herring stood beneath the lyra on a recent weekday, she pulled her right knee up until it touched her chest. Then, she straightened her leg – stretching her toes skyward.

Warmed up and ready to fly, she gets a boost to the bar from acrobat trainer Donald Hughes.

Vivaldi’s opera fills the room as Herring’s body quickly flows from one contortion to the next. She arches backward, then hangs parallel to the floor, balancing precariously on the thin bar. She hooks her ankle into a loop of rope and leans backward.

But her ankle slips loose and she falls. Hughes catches her before she hits the ground.

“I’ve never fallen before,” Herring says, her eyes wide and startled.

“Slow down,” Hughes says. “You’re trying to do everything too fast.”

Slow, however, is not the Bunny way.

“I have been a socialite and a daughter, a mother and a wife, a farmer and a nurse,” Herring said. “I’ve lived a life of adventure. Why not have one more?”

Taking a deep breath after her fall, Herring looked up at the lyra. She rolled her shoulders, trying to relax, and reached again for the ring.

The music soared. And, for two minutes and 11 seconds, so did Herring. Each toe point, each arch of her body, was perfect.

Herring dismounted and bowed to a small crowd of onlookers. With the sound of their applause filling her ears, she walked out of the ring and flung aside the curtains with a victorious flourish.