THEY'RE GIVING THE CIRCUS A SHOT PERFORMERS PUT THEIR LIVES ON (HIGH) WIRE AND FLY THROUGH THE AIR FOR GOOD, OLD-FASHIONED FUN.

Byline: Jerry Rice  Staff Writer Letters to the editor

The sights and sounds of the circus are familiar to just about everyone: the clowns, the animals, the gymnasts, the unusual acts, the hot dogs and cotton candy.

And once again they're all coming to the Southland for the 130th edition of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, opening tonight at the Long Beach Arena.

As in years past, there will be no shortage of thrills to excite young and old alike. That's what The Greatest Show on Earth is all about.

To get ready for the action, here's a look at three circus performers who know how to electrify a crowd.

A real blast

Every day Jon Weiss goes to work, he gets fired. And then he shows up for work again the next day.

Some 500 times a year, the veteran circus performer slides himself into the barrel of a cannon (yes, a real one) and waits for the countdown. Three ... two ... one ... BOOM!

Instantly, he flies out of the cannon at 65 mph. If all goes as planned, he safely lands in a net up to 120 feet away.

``For me, it's all about entertaining the audience,'' Weiss says. ``Hopefully, they can bring something away from the show - something they'll be talking about later.''

There's another thing about Weiss' act: His wife controls the trigger of the cannon.

``She's my second set of eyes, making sure everything's OK,'' he says.

That's all fine, but the question inquiring minds are asking: Does she have a life insurance policy on him? ``She does,'' he says with a laugh. ``A very large one.''

To be sure, Weiss, who started getting blasted out of a cannon during the 1988-89 edition of the Ringling Bros. circus, is aware of the dangers. His flight can't be much higher than 30 feet off the ground because the rigging hanging off the ceiling is 36 feet high. Is the cannon properly aimed? Is the net in the right place?

``What I do is daring and dangerous,'' he says. ``It's not only a physical feat, but it's mental and mechanical. I'm relying on myself, the rigging and the piece of machinery that's actually firing me out. There's a lot of different areas where things can go wrong.''

Plus, there are the G forces his body endures. Weiss likens it to being in a stopped car on the freeway that suddenly gets hit from behind. Even though he's prepared for the impact, there's still quite a jolt from the cannon blast.

Weiss has suffered his share of injuries - a banged-up nose and fingers, a strained Achilles tendon and a minor case of whiplash.

``Nothing major, really,'' he says. ``I've been very fortunate.''

Weiss, 38, holds what he does at the close of each circus performance in high regard.

``To just think that people are still being shot out of a cannon in this day and age, with all the technology, is pretty amazing to me,'' he says. ``The first person to be propelled from anything was in the late 1800s. To know that we're keeping that tradition alive is a great honor to me.''

Getting shot out of a cannon isn't the only tradition Weiss is keeping alive. He also performs as a clown during the first half of the show. Hence, his Ringling Bros. billing as ``the Human Clown 'n Ball.''

When audiences first see Weiss - all decked out in his clown costume and makeup - he might be toolin' around the arena in a small car with Michu (at 33 inches tall, he's called ``The Smallest Man on Earth'' - and who's to argue that). Or he might be balancing a gasoline-powered chain saw (with the motor running) on his chin.

Just about every daring thing Weiss does, he saves for the live performances. Practice? Forget about it.

``Once I get the hang of something, I really don't want to do it outside the show and get injured,'' he says. ``I might as well do it for a paying audience.''

On the wire

If anyone was born to be a circus performer, it would have to be Vicente Quiros. The 38-year-old Spaniard and his brothers, Angel and Roberto, are fifth-generation performers, coming from a long line of acrobats, animal trainers and clowns.

Together they make up three-fourths of The Quiros highwire troupe, with circus veteran Rene Ayala. But this isn't just any highwire act. They double the danger - and the excitement - by performing on two wires at once, one 12 feet above the other.

The steel wires, by the way, are about the same thickness as your finger.

``The double high wire is more dangerous than the normal high wire,'' Quiros says in broken English. ``If somebody falls down from the top, you can fall on the low wire.''

Quiros' grandfather owned the Quiros Brothers Circus in the family's native country. His father did the single trapeze. But for Vicente Quiros, the highwire was his bag.

``We try everything,'' Quiros says. ``My father said, 'Let's go try the wire.' We did and we like to do it.''

What they do on the wire is nothing short of amazing to watch: They ride bikes, jump rope and do a little sword play.

And, by the way, they do it all without a safety net. Well, OK, there is one small net, but that's to catch the chair they use on the 30-foot-tall top wire. After all, they don't want the chair to break when it crashes to the ground because they'll need it for the next show.

``(The small net) can't catch us because we're too heavy,'' Quiros says.

Plus, they know having a bigger net for the wire walkers would take away from the drama of the act.

So what happens should any one of them fall off the wire? That doesn't even enter into their thinking.

``We practice every morning, about three hours,'' Quiros says. ``If we don't practice, we can't do it.''

Quiros has been doing it for 28 years, and fortunately there haven't been too many falls. However, he never forgets dropping off the top wire in 1979 and again in 1980, coming out of the falls with broken ribs and a broken right leg.

Says Quiros, ever the trooper: ``What I wanted to do is go up again as soon as I could. I wanted to come back.''

Air it out

If Nelson Quiroga received frequent-flier miles for his work, he would have accumulated enough points for several round-the-world trips.

No telling, though, if he would bother cashing them in. As the leader of trapeze artists the Flying Tabares, he is logging plenty of flight time.

``We practice five times a week, for two to three hours each time,'' says Quiroga, who calls Buenos Aires, Argentina, home. ``It's a lot more than just doing the act. You have to exercise and take good care of yourself.''

And Quiroga's family is never too far away, making sure there are plenty of good influences around. His wife and sister are both part of the team.

Also around is longtime pal Luis Martinez, leader of Argentina's Flying Poema troupe, which performs with the Flying Tabares at the circus.

``Luis and I have known each other since childhood,'' says Quiroga, a third-generation wire-walker who switched to the trapeze in 1985. ``We've wanted to perform together like this for years.''

What the troupes do is a fast-paced act that features two catchers and two sets of fliers. At the time the fliers are in the air doing a triple somersault, they are moving at 60 mph.

Says Quiroga: ``Anyone who has the will to practice and dedicate him or herself can do this, but they have to be willing to take a risk.''

The facts

--What: Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus.

--Where: Long Beach Arena, 300 E. Ocean Blvd., Long Beach; The Pond, 2695 E. Katella Ave., Anaheim; Los Angeles Sports Arena, 3939 S. Figueroa St., Los Angeles; San Diego Sports Arena, 3500 Sports Arena Blvd., San Diego.

--When: Tonight through July 23 in Long Beach; July 25-31 in Anaheim; Aug. 2-6 in Los Angeles; Aug. 9-13 in San Diego.

--How much: Weekday ticket prices $10-$17; weekend ticket prices $14-$21; VIP prices $30-$35. Special ringside seats also available. San Diego ticket prices are $10.75-$18.75, $32.75 for VIP.

--Information: [phone] or [phone], or www.ringling.com.

--What else: Arrive one hour before each show and meet the animals and performers up close during the Three-Ring Adventure on the arena floor. There's no extra charge.

CAPTION(S):

7 photos

Photo:

(1 -- 2 -- color) Jon Weiss, the Human Clown 'n Ball, blasts from a cannon at 65 miles per hour, top. Weiss clowns around the arena in a car with Michu - ``The Smallest Man on Earth'' - who measures 33 inches, above.

(3 -- color) Ringmaster Michael James McGowan prepares the audience for an energetic show.

(4 -- color) The Quiros high-wire troupe uses no net and doubles the danger by performing on two wires at once.

(5 -- color) Congress of Rough Riders gracefully execute tricks while on a moving horse.

(6) With acrobatic speed and strength, the Tabares troupe glides through the air for a dazzling overhead spectacle.

(7) The Quiros, walking along wires 12 feet apart, light up the arena with hand-held fireworks.