The Catskills have comedians, Las Vegas has showgirls, but the Glenview Public Library has the Whip Guy.
In a meeting room a few steps from the volumes of Dr. Seuss and Richard Scarry, entertainer Chris Camp mesmerized a crowd of children one recent afternoon as he used a 6-foot bullwhip to flick straws from the hands and mouths of young volunteers.
It was his 70th gig this summer at a public library, venues that account for a growing part of his schedule.
“I think there is a demand for things that are a little less ordinary,” said Camp, 35. “It opens up a new door, maybe even to people who haven’t been to libraries before.”
The normally hushed precincts of public libraries have become a new vaudeville for comedians, dog trainers and bucket-pounding musicians, as administrators book sometimes-raucous acts to draw children’s summertime attention toward the written word.
“Our competition is the video games, the television, movies. … What [the performers] do is unique. It’s entertainment that’s different, that attracts children,” said Ruth Faklis of Burbank’s Prairie Trails Public Library. It ended its summer reading program last month with a show by CircusBoy, a comedian who juggled knives, balanced atop a ladder and wheeled around on a tiny bicycle.
Libraries have long hired performers to entice children and their parents into stopping by during the summer. But some say traditional acts–such as guitar-strumming folk singers or Mark Twain-channeling actors–are increasingly being supplanted by shows that seem better suited to a nightclub or boardwalk.
The Bucket Boys, two percussionists who bang on everything from stop signs to brake drums for their “Stomp”-like routine, played a library a day during one week in July. Vince Romanelli, 22, said he is eternally amazed that librarians don’t mind the racket.
“To be honest with you, it really doesn’t make much sense [to perform in libraries], but we do it anyway,” he said.
Animal acts are big too. The Library Administrators Conference of Northern Illinois, which keeps a catalog of frequent performers, lists creature features from “Tami’s Turtles” to “Ed and Annette’s Monkeys & More.”
The appeal is obvious. When the Schaumburg Township District Library played host to the dog act Popeye and Swee’ Pea, children crowded 10 deep around a rectangular rug, jumping and shrieking as the hound leapt through rings, bounded over hurdles and skipped rope.
“Our old director said we know how successful a show has been by the number of [noise] complaints we had,” Allison Bies, the library’s youth services program coordinator, said as the crowd of 300 filed out.
Some libraries restrict performances to children enrolled in their summer reading programs, hoping the promise of entertainment will persuade kids to pick up books. Schaumburg doesn’t follow that policy, but some who came to watch Popeye and Swee’ Pea said the shows nonetheless motivate them to hit the stacks.
“Last time, they had a show with a lot of animals,” said Sydney Johnson, 10, of Hoffman Estates. “I saw a book about snakes and checked it out.”
Rose Hable represents many of the performers who play Chicago-area libraries and said the demand for more-exotic acts has increased steadily in recent years as librarians look for new ways to hook older children.
“I think years ago they had just preschool kids in summer reading programs,” she said. “It has really grown to where it involves older kids and families. It’s more of an entertainment thing.”
Camp’s whip-cracking spectacle is certainly entertaining, but he also salts his show with educational tidbits. In Glenview the fast-talking, joke-lobbing Springfield entertainer told a crowd of about 30 goggle-eyed children and 10 wary adults that the tip of the bullwhip travels at up to 900 m.p.h., creating a minor sonic boom.
He traced the whip’s evolution through history, from a symbol of royal power in ancient Egypt to a cattle-guiding tool on ranches. Asking the kids to moo, he unfurled a 9 1/2-foot stock whip and let it snap, causing every head in the room to jerk.
“See how that scares you?” he said. “Well, if you were a steer and you heard that, you’d be scared and you’d move.”
But then he needed a few children to remain motionless as he placed long Styrofoam straws in their hands and mouths and broke them off, inch by spongy inch. He also placed Sarah Swierczek, 7, in the middle of the room, hands above her head, as he cracked the whip harmlessly around her waist.
Sarah’s aunt, Irene Alwan of Glenview, kept a frozen smile on her face when her niece became part of the show. Later, she said Camp’s act had valuable lessons for the young audience.
“It’s like any other art form,” said Alwan, 36. “It requires discipline and regimentation, and it shows. I think it’s wonderful for kids to see this.”
When the performance was over, the children clambered for the foam twigs scattered on the floor as Camp signed a few autographs and answered a few questions.
Then he had just enough time to duck out of the library for a quick dinner. The Whip Guy’s next show started in an hour.
