Reflections from the Steel Cage of Death

There are few images as powerful, as terrifying, or as mesmerising as a human stepping into a steel cage with a pride of lions. For generations of circus audiences, this moment marked the height of anticipation, the instant where glamour, danger, trust, and bravado collided under canvas lights.

In Lion Tamers I Have Seen and Known, Bob Cunningham reflects on a vanished era of circus history: the age of the lion tamer. This is not a technical history, nor a catalogue of sensational accidents. Instead, it is a deeply personal journey through decades of circus-going, memory, and encounters with some of the most remarkable, and sometimes tragic, figures ever to enter the “steel cage of death”.

Where It All Begins

The concept of confronting lions is as old as storytelling itself. Biblical accounts such as Daniel in the lions’ den hint at humanity’s enduring fascination with faith, courage, and survival in the presence of powerful animals. But the modern lion tamer emerged not in scripture or Roman arenas, but beneath the canvas roofs of travelling circuses, places of wonder, colour, music, and barely contained danger.

Bob Cunningham makes it clear: this is not an attempt to document every famous tamer or recount every incident. Others have done that. Instead, his reflections focus on those he personally saw, admired, and sometimes met, performers who risked everything nightly for the thrill of performance and the gasp of an audience.

A Child’s First Encounter with the Cage

Bob’s lifelong fascination began at the age of six, attending Wirths Circus in Frankston, Victoria, during the late 1930s. For a child emerging from the shadow of the Great Depression, the spectacle was overwhelming: elephants, camels, horses, glittering costumes, and endless movement in the Grand Parade.

But it was Captain Eric Flyger - fearless, commanding, and utterly calm among a group of lions - who left the deepest impression. To a young boy, Flyger represented courage on a level matched only by soldiers and policemen. It was here, in that ring, that the mystique of the lion tamer took hold for life.

Women in the Cage: Courage and Controversy

Among the most compelling and sobering stories are those of female lion tamers. None looms larger than Madam Kovar, the English-born star who performed with Wirths Circus in the late 1940s. Her presence challenged long-held beliefs about women and wild animals, and her tragic death later that year underscored the immense risks involved.

Bob Cunningham does not sensationalise her fate. Instead, he places it within the context of an era when animal training relied heavily on trust, instinct, and physical proximity, and when safety margins were razor thin. Her story remains one of the most haunting reminders that bravery and tragedy often walked hand in hand in the circus world.

The Great Australian Circuses

The golden age of Australian circus is inseparable from names like Wirths, Bullens, Ashtons, Perrys, Soles, and Lennons. Each built its reputation on spectacle, scale, and critically, animal acts.

Bob Cunningham charts the post-war expansion of these shows, describing the rise of Bullens Circus into a powerhouse rivaling Wirths, the resilience of Ashtons under legendary trainers like Captain Fritz Schulz, and the long survival of family-run enterprises through decades of social change and growing regulation.

Lion tamers such as Ken Bullen, Jules Bullen, Mervyn King, Mick Peterson, Marcel Peters, and many others are remembered not just for their skill, but for their individual styles, from forceful authority to gentle “Hagenbeck-style” training built on patience and respect.

International Encounters and Global Legends

Bob Cunningham’s travels took him far beyond Australia, offering rare first-hand glimpses of international circus legends. In Chicago, he unknowingly witnessed the brilliance of Gunther Gebel-Williams with Ringling Bros. an experience only fully appreciated in hindsight.

In Europe, he saw Alex Kerr, Firmin Bouglione, Mary Chipperfield, and others who represented the pinnacle of animal presentation. In Japan and Russia, he encountered vast mixed-animal acts, where quarantine, logistics, and sheer scale were challenges almost as great as the performances themselves.

These global encounters highlight how deeply interconnected circus families and traditions were, crossing borders and cultures in pursuit of excellence.

The Moscow Circus and the Age of Spectacle

The arrival of the Great Moscow Circus in Australia in 1965 marked a turning point. Lavish, disciplined, and visually overwhelming, it introduced Australian audiences to mixed animal acts on a scale never seen before - bears, lions, tigers, panthers, and elephants sharing the ring in carefully choreographed chaos.

Australian trainers such as the Bullen family played a crucial behind-the-scenes role, supplying animals, tenting expertise, and local knowledge. These collaborations produced unforgettable seasons, but also highlighted the increasing complexity and cost of maintaining such acts in a changing world.

Decline of the Steel Cage

By the late twentieth century, the pressures were mounting. Rising insurance costs, tightening regulations, shifting public attitudes, and vocal animal rights movements all combined to make big cat acts increasingly untenable.

Yet Bob is careful not to paint this as a simple moral narrative. He acknowledges the deep bonds between trainers and animals, the generations of circus-bred lions, and the genuine grief felt when acts were retired. The final Australian lion acts particularly those with Lennons and Stardust Circus, were marked by extraordinary care, affection, and professionalism, even as they signalled the end of an era.

Inside the Cage

One of the most powerful moments in Bob Cunningham’s reflection comes when he describes stepping into the lion cage himself during a performance, not as a trainer, but as a guest. The experience, he writes, was exhilarating and humbling: the animals’ eyes, their teeth, their presence impossible to forget.

It reinforces a truth echoed by nearly every trainer quoted throughout the book: lions may be trained, but they are never truly tamed. Routine, trust, and familiarity reduce risk, but instinct is always there, waiting.

Letting the Lions Have the Last Word

The book closes not with statistics or arguments, but with imagery, poems, sketches, anecdotes, and gentle humour. A lion that “barks like a dog.” A singing tiger. A cartoon lion bowing to the audience.

These moments remind us that circus was never just about danger. It was about wonder, connection, laughter, and awe. And while the steel cages may now be silent, the memories remain, vivid, complex, and deeply human.

A Final Reflection

Lion Tamers I Have Seen and Known is ultimately a love letter: to circuses, to performers, to animals, and to a world that no longer exists. It does not ask us to agree with the past, only to understand it, to recognise the courage, the flaws, the beauty, and the loss.

As Bob Cunningham quietly suggests, the roar of the lion may have faded from the ring, but its echo still lingers in the hearts of those who once sat wide-eyed beneath the canvas lights.