"Life is on the wire. The rest is just waiting." -Karl Wallenda

By Peter B. Gallagher

It was a sunny, breezy, eerie, Florida autumn afternoon out on Longboat Key. Sweat-stain hot but sweater cool, depending on where I was standing. In the low western sky, Venus was shining in the daytime. On earth, seagulls were walking around on Bay Isles Road, pecking at the tarmac that winds through the city's park-like municipal complex. Sparkling in the sunshine, high above the birds, a slender strand of taut, five-eighths-inch rope wire stretched between two makeshift towers about 50 feet apart. I didn't see any safety net. Just gulls and popcorn kernels on the hard pavement two and a half stories beneath the wire.

Fall was in the air. And it was affecting the town's festive 50th anniversary celebration. A professional juggler kept dropping batons. A tall stilt-Uncle Sam with a clown's nose slipped on a snow-cone slick and, wobbling like a drunken stork, nearly toppled onto a lady in a wheelchair. On one of several stages that were set up, the speakers cut out as local townfolk holding scripts "acted" out a humorous political play about the Key before an audience in folding chairs who sat there politely, unable to hear a single word.

Through the festive crowd, a slight, unassuming man in a polo shirt and jeans slowly strolled, circling the towers connecting the high wire. With the piercing eyes of a nuclear power-plant inspector, he tapped guy wires, pinched screws, kicked stakes and stared skyward. Not even the occasional disconcerting pop from a cursing balloon man nearby seemed to distract Tino Wallenda.

I thought the vibe just didn't seem right today for tightrope walking. But Tino actually seemed to be licking his chops in anticipation. "Isn't it a great day!" exclaimed the world's bravest man, who was scheduled soon to take his whole family up on that thin string, with bicycles and chairs and poles-and no net.

No big deal. "Every movement is planned exactly," said Tino, with an aplomb so disarming I felt a chill down my spine. "And we don't plan to fall."

The Flying Wallendas don't even worry about it. Since it's not going to happen, why have a contingency plan? Tino smiled at the logic of it all. We looked skyward, and I imagined all these folks on that skinny strand. I daydreamed Tino was doing a headstand and Uncle Sam bumped into the tower and the wire began shaking. Tino's legs began to kick wildly and...

Pop! I swung around in fear. Another bad balloon. I cursed the balloon man and turned back around, breathing hard, my brow sweaty-cool in the wind.

Tino? He was still looking up, calm and collected. Focused. Smiling. The sun was bright. The air was brisk. "Great weather," he said. "I love the fall."

"In American circus history, Wallenda is one of the most famous, if not the most famous name. Their accomplishments are legendary and their feats are unmatched. And Sarasota has always been their home. There are so many circus people in this area that around here, you could be next to a Wallenda at the supermarket and never know." -Pedro Reis

Pedro Reis, a trapeze artist, and his wife, Dolly Jacobs, aerialist supreme and daughter of clown icon Lou Jacobs, are among scores of circus folks who have called Sarasota home since John Ringling moved the winter headquarters for his "Greatest Show On Earth" here in 1927. The couple runs Circus Sarasota, a nonprofit educational organization committed to the preservation of the circus art form. During the month of February, nearly every day, Reis and Jacobs present a five-star international circus right in the "Circus Capital of the World." This year, the Flying Wallendas will headline, with a promise to perform their legendary Seven-Person Pyramid, regarded by most as the most dangerous stunt in the genre.

"What the Wallendas do-the discipline they exhibit and their skill on the high wire-is awesome. Today's troupe is one of the greatest in history," says Reis. "They perform all over the world, but very rarely in their home town."

And this performance could be not only a rare but an historic opportunity for Sarasotans to see the legendary pyramid. "Circus Sarasota might be the last time the Flying Wallendas perform the Seven," says Tino. "My daughter Aurelia, who is on the very top, is getting married. My other daughter, Alita, and son-in-law are taking off for a year after this show. This could well be the last Seven for a long, long time, maybe for good."