Photo: Joshua Huston Bubbleman Garry Golightly perfects the art of the bubble. |
For some people, their career and their personal identity are inseparable; individuals for whom their occupation seems more like destiny than a choice. Think of the Pope or Jane Goodall, Babe Ruth or the Bubbleman.
That’s right, the Bubbleman. For more than three decades, the Bubbleman has been delighting everyone from babies to 93-year-old birthday girls with his comedic, heartfelt, suds-filled show. These days he’s easiest to find performing at Carkeek Park in northwest Seattle, surrounded by his homemade bubble-blowing paraphernalia and giggling kids. Other summer shows have included Burien’s Wild Strawberry Festival, a pocket park performance in West Seattle, the Microsoft campus and birthday parties regionwide.
“It all becomes one big celebration,” says Garry Golightly, aka the Bubbleman, during our recent noontime conversation. On this day, the 62-year-old Bubbleman is wearing a straw hat and black shirt embroidered with the words “Play Attention” — a catch phrase at his shows, and one of the countless puns and portmanteaus that pepper his world. His beard, at present, is not dyed purple.
Stumbling upon the Bubbleman with a kid in tow is a treat for adults and kids alike, or “kidults” as he would say. His shows are a fine-tuned stand-up routine with a dose of physical comedy, featuring bubbles of all sizes teased from unexpected items (bet you’ve never blown bubbles from a retired toilet seat, have you?). He eschews electronics and “vidiot” games and preaches recycling, demonstrated in part by the wand built from 200 six-pack rings that conjure a bubble blizzard.
If this is all a bit much to wrap your mind around, Bubbleman understands. “You’ve got to see me to believe me,” he says.
Photo: Joshua Huston Bubbleman showing off great bubbles to a crowd. |
Bubbleman’s story begins, as colorful tales often do, in New York City. After growing up north of Boston with his single mom and five sisters, Bubbleman earned a degree in art education from the University of Massachusetts and eventually made his way to Manhattan. He taught classes on a spiritual-sounding self-help book, worked as a bike messenger and modeled for artists.
He also sold peace buttons on street corners, when one afternoon a bubble “big as a Smart car” drifted across Broadway.
“I thought I was seeing things,” the Bubbleman says. He tracked down the fellow at the bubble’s source and negotiated a trade of 10 buttons that read “Arms Are for Hugging” for the bubble wand. The Bubbleman had found his muse.
Bubbleman’s fantastical odyssey led him to Gainesville, Florida, and roadside bubble blowing intended to cheer commuters driving home. One afternoon a man in a Mercedes-Benz pulled over; Bubbleman expected to get chewed out for an errant bubble popping on his car. Instead, “he asked me, ‘Do you do weddings?’ and I said, ‘I do now,’” Bubbleman recalls.
He did his first real gig in a tux provided by the father of the bride and patent leather shoes from a thrift store. At the wedding, a guest asked if he did performances at daycares. Again came the response, “I do now,” and soon after he was wowing preschoolers at Baby Gator Daycare Center.
From there, his bubbling carried him to Vermont, Tokyo, Poland, Moscow, Spain, London, Australia and California, roughly in that order, with two dozen more countries sprinkled throughout.
Bubbles provide an icebreaker in just about every situation, it seems, and in multiple languages the Bubbleman can proclaim: “I’m making bubbles, I have less troubles.” He carries a small container of bubbles with him at nearly all times, and enjoys letting loose a bubble storm from his van when stuck in traffic. He keeps a tambourine on his dashboard for an impromptu jam.
Photo: Joshua Huston |
Over a pint of beer in a restaurant off Highway 99, the soapy tales pour out. The Bubbleman recounts — in an accent depending on the nation in question — effervescent stories of bubble shows performed for political dignitaries and taking top prizes in international street performer and clown contests. It would take a small army of fact checkers to verify it all, but one wants to believe.
Bubbleman made his way to Seattle about 20 years ago. Around that same time, actor and humanitarian Audrey Hepburn died, and nearly a year later, so did Harry Nilsson, an American singer-songwriter. Bubbleman admired both and adopted the name Garry Golightly, in homage to Hepburn’s character from Breakfast at Tiffany’s and to Nilsson.
For Bubbleman, bubbles are a salve, an inspiration, almost a religion. Among his performances, he’s done nine funerals, entertained at hospitals and marked the end of someone’s divorce. He recently did a party for a family whose mother was departing for military duty in Afghanistan. He would love to become the world’s first “ambubbleasssador” and bring bubbles to suffering children internationally.
“I want to go to misery and bring joy,” Bubbleman says. “This gift was given to me: You will make children laugh, and you will teach parents how to make children laugh.”
Bubbleman believes every family should have a container of bubbles above the fridge, ready to go. For a backyard bubble party, mix 15 parts water to one part Dawn or Joy dish detergent in a 5-gallon bucket. Tie the plastic rings from a six-pack to a stick and bubble away.
Check out bubbleman.com or email bubbleman.com@gmail.com.
Scope our video interview with Bubbleman here.
