Vice: Please trace for me your path to clownhood.

King Henry: I was born and raised in Brooklyn, and while attending Kingsborough Community College I needed a part-time job. On the weekends my friend was working for a company that would hire anybody as a clown for $24 an hour. That was in 1989, and $24 an hour was great for a college student. Believe it or not, the company was called AAAAA Entertainment—five As. They put you through a one-hour “refresher” course on three different magic tricks, showed you how to make two or three balloon animals, stuck you in a costume that I found out later was probably worth about $15, and gave you tubes of white and blue water-based makeup. They sent me on three shows my first day.

Scary.

On the way to my first show I was really nervous and antsy. I had that kicked-in-the-stomach feeling or butterflies or whatever. There were only two or three kids there and two of them were afraid of me. So I was miserable, like, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” But I’m a man of my word. I was going to do the three shows and be done with it. My second show was in Prospect Park. It was right around the time In Living Color first came out but I hadn’t seen the show yet. All these people in the park were going, “Hey, what’s up Homey?” and “Look, it’s Homey D. Clown!” I was wondering why all these people were abusing me. Then the third party was in Queens and they were island people—Jamaican or Trinidadian. They laughed at all of my bad jokes. The woman tipped me $10. Being a 20-year-old college student, I practically skipped to my car, laughing the whole way and thinking, “Maybe I’ll give this a try.”

Over the years you transitioned away from a workingman’s clown to running one of the top agencies in New York for clowns and entertainers. Most people would never imagine there’s that kind of upward mobility in your industry.

I worked as a clown for a bunch of different agencies in the beginning, but my time at Zack’s Funhouse, which at the time was the William Morris Agency for entertainers like me, gave me my foundation. Eventually they went out of business and I bought their phone number at auction. I thought it would be a good idea to have a kind of mascot for the company, so after brainstorming with a few other people we came up with King Henry. It was a crazy time because I had just gotten married. So I went on my honeymoon, hired one of the people who worked for Zack’s to answer the phones and book parties, and came back to more work than I could handle. From there it just spun out of control. Now I have my own public-access television program—The King Henry Show—and work as an announcer for the Brooklyn Cyclones on the side.

Did you look up to any particular pro clowns in your early days?

One of my mentors is Glen “Frosty” Little, who was the last living boss clown of Ringling Bros. Circus. In order to be made a boss clown, there are certain criteria: You have to have your pyro license, you have to have been teaching clowning for a certain number of years, and you have to write a certain number of skits for the circus. They have only given the title to about five people. Another great clown who I respect is Junior the Clown. He’s taught me things at conventions. That’s where you pick things up from this person or that person. Joe Barney is another great. He was head of the clown unit for Big Apple Circus.

Is there some sort of clowning industry hierarchy?

In a way. It’s like there are four different levels. Joe Barney and Frosty Little are at the pinnacle. Then there are people like me who get respect from them, but in my opinion aren’t at their level. And then there are the people who run the lectures and the working clowns who look up to them.

What’s the most memorable thing you’ve done as a clown?

There have been lots of notable gigs, but about 13 years ago, when I was still clowning full-time, I did a baby shower where I came dressed as a big baby in a diaper with a tutu and a bonnet. I came in looking for “Mommy.” After I found her I got on my back and made as if I were peeing with a squirt flower I had hooked up to my waist. It killed! I even got a $50 tip. Besides that I’ve done parties for some pretty big celebrities.

Who?

Well, I’ll leave out the notorious ones because I may get a few phone calls. Just think of who would be the biggest possible name in wise guys. I did his parties year after year. I’ve also done stuff for Katie Couric, Puff Daddy, and LL Cool J. I did parties for Tommy Hilfiger’s children. He was a great customer and a great person. Surprisingly he was an average Joe kind of guy. He would show up in a limousine in his tan pants and blue blazer with oxford shoes. Then he would run upstairs, put on some ripped jeans and a t-shirt, and play with us all day.

What is your secret? How did you become king of the clowns?

When I was younger—around 19 or 20—I could’ve easily gone down the wrong path. I found myself through Eastern philosophy and martial arts and tai chi and Buddhism and the Tao. That put me on the righteous path. I think that helps me in this business because I’ve been presented a lot of opportunities to be dishonest just to make a quick buck. I chose not to do things like that, and I think it’s why I’ve done so well.


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