“I think that is the last free show I doing”, says Cassius, as I help him load gym equipment into his van. “I never charge for a show yet, but I feel I will have to. I can’t put out all that for nothing”. The ‘nothing’ he was reflecting on was the poor attendance at his free show, held a few Sundays ago at the Accra car park. In addition to the Eggs band, with which he sings, there was an eclectic set of performances. Lolita, the limbo dancer and Cassius himself in full fire eating mode, as well as assorted other acts. Although I wasn’t clear on how many persons attended the show he was clearly dissatisfied with the turnout, “I put a big light in the middle of the car park but everyone stayed at the edges – that was a mistake”, he observes.
We were at the Garrison, horse racing venue and Barbados’ popular walking, riding and running spot, where Cassius had assembled a hodgepodge of gym equipment under the betting shed. Every weekday afternoon, random persons would collect to use the impromptu gym, provided by Cassius as a public service, really. “I just bring them along for the diabetes people”, he says,” but just a little drizzle and they don’t turn up”. Today is a bit cloudy and when I turn up to do my regular run from the betting shed, they are only two or three people on the machines. Several months ago, when Cassius first begun this most recent of his philanthropic ventures, he would bring one or two machines, a stationery cycle, a bench, some dumbbells. As I helped him load up his van today I counted the equipment, 3 stationary bikes, two Abdominal machines, four assorted benches, and a variety of weights. Cassius loads them into his van every day and treks down to the Garrison, unloads and sets them up, then after the sun goes down, and everyone leaves, he loads them back in his van. Magically they all fit.
Cassius’ story starts a long time ago, in the forties, where as a wharf boy he skulled school and was basically put out of the house for giving his mother too much trouble. Living with the other wharf boys he slept in the open, scrounged for food and dived for pennies. A stint in the Boys’ Reformatory (Dodd’s) and a chance interaction with a caring teacher redirected his life, and he came out of Dodd’s looking to make something of himself. First he tried his hand as a seaman on inter-island schooners. He also knew that he was a decent boxer (he first fought at 7), and became immersed in the world of boxing, cutting a swathe through his often older opponents. That was when he came to be called Cassius Clay. He went on to win most major local titles and when his obvious talent was noticed by a Canadian promoter, he went to Canada to play in that country. This didn’t work as planned, although he was very successful, since the sport was languishing there and purses were small. He returned to Barbados a few years later having made something of a name for himself in the community of Hull where he lived, and also picked up some skills as an entertainer.
Back in Bim, he continued to box, but as the sport atrophied and the crowds dwindled, the take from each match continued to be embarrassingly low, making it difficult for any boxer to justify the training and dedication necessary to stay in the ring. He then concentrated on his entertaining, becoming a ‘fire eater’, and perhaps the only man ever to balance a full size wheelbarrow on his teeth (try it, you’ll see how difficult it is), and his son on the top of a step ladder. He could also balance glasses on trays on glasses on trays on a broomstick, walk a tightrope while doing other things, walk on broken glass and jump through a ring of knives. He also formed a band (and played with several). He is credited with originating a type of Spouge – Dragon Spouge – Barbados’ indigenous 60’s beat and even had a hit song “Sweeter Than a Sno-cone” which was very popular in Barbados and the Eastern Caribbean (click opposite to play). He took up painting and mounted a full exhibition at the Grand Salle in the Barbados Central Bank. In later years, to supplement his entertaining, he became a tour guide, driving tourists around in a pseudo safari tour of the country, where he would entertain them with the wheelbarrow trick. But there is less interest these days in fire eating, and the take from these activities does not go very far, never did.
From the time of his return from Canada, Cassius has pursued various charitable pursuits. He just says he want to help the youth. So he formed a roller hockey league, put together a team, and for a while it flourished. And a tackle football league. And formed a highly successful girls cricket team which toured as far as Canada. He organised various community activities. ‘His’ band, Eggs, was formed about five years ago when his son expressed an interest in playing drums. A neighbourhood girl asked if she could play too. One thing led to another and out of Cassius’ pocket came funds for two drums, keyboards, guitars. His son is a bit older now, but the drummer is twelve, others are thirteen, fifteen, “the bass player is 18, but he gone off to come back”, he says, enigmatically. Cassius is the lead singer. They perform at various venues, often for free, including the annual ‘Carols by Candlelight’, the charity do held in the grounds of the Prime Minister’s residence every year just before Christmas.
At the Garrison recently I saw him in the middle of the field with some kids, playing cricket. He was hoping to develop a regular cricket activity there for the kids in the area. Another day found him pulling the heavy metal and concrete roller over the pitch to flatten it, a physical feat that would normally take two average men to accomplish. But his back and his knees give him trouble, he says. He’s put on too much weight and is diabetic (a condition which almost killed him a year ago), which is what sent him to the garrison in the first place, and then noticing the other overweight people, decided on the fly to set up his itinerant gym, for free….
He showed me his boxing scrapbook the other day, an impresssive 30 inch x 20 inch handmade ‘book’, the covers made of some hard board, the edges stitched together with twine. Inside, the story of his early life in pictures, newspaper clippings, some photographs from Canada and many, many thank you letters from various organisations to which he has given his time and talents. The scrapbook shows how his fascinating story has caught the public eye for a moment, before receding again. They tell the story of a fighter (for life). He never did learn to read or write. I asked him about this, and he shrugs, “too late, you know, a foreign lady had offered to teach, but …” I assure him in the security of my intellectual comfort zone, that it isn’t, it can’t be.
Getting back to the matter at hand, I discuss with him possible alternatives for the next show. You need to charge something, I say, even if you give it to charity, and advertise it, perhaps find a radio station to partner with you. And sell tickets in advance. “That is not for me”, he says, “I will have to find somebody to do that. I’m an entertainer, that is not my skills. Rihanna don’t organise her own shows, she have somebody to do that”. “ I just want a regular job” he says wistfully, as I admire the way he has managed to fit ten pieces of gym equipment plus assorted paraphernalia into his modest van. “The tour driving is long hours, I don’t even get home until well after dark. If I had a job as a security in a building, finish by 4.30, that would be good.”
It seems a modest goal for someone as talented and resourceful as Cassius, but as always, he has only his own resourcefulness to fall back on. And so he struggles on a daily basis to make a living in a world where his talent is undervalued, and his charity over-used.
Born Winston Yearwood in 1945, Cassius’ story is well told in “Cassius, from Wharf Boy to Role Model - The Life and Times of an Extraordinary Barbadian”, by Keith A P Sandiford, and from which I have borrowed the black & white photographs featured above. Cassius sold me a copy the first day I met him, “the money goes to charity” he said. In 2001 he was given the Barbados Centennial Honour in recognition of his achievements and contributions to society and more recently, an O.B.E. – Order of the British Empire. Cassius can be found around the Garrison most afternoons or reached on 420 2567 for bookings or to purchase his biography.
These gentlemen remained 
Cooling out with 'Jacko', head of hotel 'security' on the jetty at night. He's hoping to catch some Snappers.
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