Irvine’s Snuffy Teaches Comedy Students How to Get a Laugh : Being a Class Clown Is the Object of College

Elementary school Principal Libia Gil thinks her image needs a little work. When she encounters her students, it is usually as the campus enforcer.

“If I’m involved, they figure it means trouble,” Gil said.

To alter her authoritarian aura, Gil has been spending recent Saturdays learning the tricks and trade of clowning. She hopes a face full of heavy makeup, a frizzy wig and a big red nose will go a long way toward softening her image.

“One day soon, I’m going to come to school as a clown,” Gil said. “Then maybe the kids will understand that principals are not all rules and regulations.”

Gil is one of 17 people who paid $50 to enroll in a five-week course in clown costumes and comic routines offered through the Cerritos Leisure Services Department.

The sessions are taught by Sy Elliott, who started Mr. Snuff’s Clown College two years ago. Since then, nearly 250 students have graduated from Elliott’s short course on clowning.

Elliott, 56, of Irvine began teaching the art of clowning because he had grown tired of running a small fire extinguisher business that he owned. Early in his adult life, Elliott was a photographer, and even tried his hand at acting and comedy.

So in 1982, when Elliott met several professional clowns, he quickly realized his heart was still in entertaining others. For the next two years, he learned the craft by reading and watching other clowns perform. Then he sold his business and launched his clown course, which he has taught through recreation departments in several Orange County cities, including Fullerton, Newport Beach and Irvine. It will be offered again in Cerritos April 19 through May 17.

“My clown education comes from the streets,” he said, “the school of hard knocks.”

Elliott runs a college in name only, and he said the prerequisites for enrollment are a big heart and a willingness to let go.

“Laughter is an elixir,” said Elliott, whose clown name, Snuffy, was given to him by his children. It stands for “short ‘n’ ugly, fat and funny.” Short and round, Elliott looks very much the clown.

“I’m trying to teach people how to deliver laughter,” he said. “I’m trying to teach people how to think and act as clowns. . . . Clowns have a universal appeal that works wonders.”

Carl Hunt, one of Elliott’s students, sure hopes so. A safety manager at a Long Beach refinery, his lectures about plant hazards are often dry. It is the kind of material, Hunt admitted, that can put fellow workers to sleep.

“To liven things up a bit,” he said, “I decided to learn about clowning.” As he talked, he attached false eyelashes to his glasses, the final touch to his clown face. He was wearing a red-and-white checked shirt and oversized pants that ended just below his knees, exposing a pair of bright red socks and old tennis shoes. Rainbow-colored suspenders from the famous Texas cowboy bar, Gilley’s, held his costume together.

“Just wait till I try some of this on the guys at the refinery,” he said, grinning widely.

Computer saleswoman Shelly Whisler has another reason for seeking a clown diploma from Elliott.

At 34, she said her life is in order. Her son is in high school, and her career is going great guns.

Now, she said, it is time to do a good turn for those less fortunate. She wants to don a clown costume and visit convalescent homes and children’s wards at local hospitals.

“I’m successful. I’ve got money. And I’m happy,” said Whisler, a Long Beach resident. “It’s time I do something for others. I want to help people find the child in themselves. If more people let go, laugh and have some fun, maybe, just maybe, this would be a happier world.”

Little Anica Hanks’ interest in clowning was more basic.

“I like playing with makeup,” she said, using a sponge dipped in white makeup base to paint her face.

With each application, Anica, 8, glanced sideways at her mother, school principal Gil. Mother and daughter had matching cosmetic kits, which Gil purchased to carry their clown props and tools--makeup mirrors, thin paintbrushes, cotton swabs, tissues, pads and sponges.

Like others in the class, Gil had an instant camera close at hand.

As they fashioned their clown faces, headbands held their hair in place. The last step was a thin, black line around their oversized mouths. Each wore distracting madras coats bought at a local thrift store. Wigs and hobo hats with thin brims and plastic flowers completed the clown transformation.

“It gives you a license to be a little crazy,” Gil said, mugging with her daughter for a photographer. The two exchanged a quick hug, and then Anica squeezed her mother’s funny red nose. “Coming here together,” Gil said, “has done a lot for our relationship.”