Gold Man is quickly surrounded by a smiling crowd, half of them hoisting high their smartphones to capture the show on video. Two giggling girls in bikinis approach to leave him a tip. Gold Man sees a prime opportunity.
He springs to action, hopping off the bike, and swaggers over to them. He mimes a hey baby, how you doin? as he links arms with one of the girls. Leading her in a right-left-right stroll, Gold Man breaks into the dum-dum-ta-dum of a wedding march. The crowd goes wild with catcalls and hollers.
His name is Tony Button. The 24-year-old hails from Corning, New York, and this is his full-time job. In the winter, he takes his routine to Florida. In summer, the Ocean City Boardwalk is home.
"When I was 17 years old," Button says, "I came to the Boardwalk with a friend. I got my guitar out and I started singing my songs and made some good tips. I knew then I wanted to become a street performer.
"It all started from me being able to express myself, and sing my songs on the street, to convey my life story through song."
Button is one of a growing number of street performers who have flocked to Ocean City's Boardwalk in recent years, as its reputation among buskers only grows stronger as a place where buskers can make a decent living from tourist tips.
Street performers also have been coming out of the woodwork as a result of two recent federal court cases that not only bolstered performers' First Amendment rights to free expression, but also severely limited police and municipal regulations on their presence.
Button's routine starts as a flaxen still life, then he erupts into movement. He bolts upright on his bike pedals. In one fluid motion, he twirls his cap from his left hand across his chest, catches it with his right, and flips it back on his head.
All the while, he squeaks. Gold Man has a kind of whistle held between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, and it makes every word sound like a dog toy. He rattles off squeaks in the staccato cadence of an auctioneer. He won't say where he got the squeaker, only that he made it himself.
Button's shift from from guitar-toting minstrel to shiny statue came abruptly: one day, he blew out his voice from too much singing. The injury badly damaged his vocal cords, and it left him with a decision to make. He could either go home and land a regular job, or change up his act.
After having seen many living statues in his travels, he picked the Gold Man persona. This is his third summer in that role. "It was a blessing in disguise, hurting my voice," he says.
To prepare for his performance, Button first touches up his costume and bike with gold Rust-Oleum spray paint; he's already gone through "at least" 100 cans this summer. He takes 15 minutes to apply gold theatrical makeup to his hands and face, then hoofs it from his seasonal home on Somerset Street to find a spot on the Boardwalk.
He's out on the boards every single day, sometimes for 10 hours straight. He doesn't stop to eat. If he really needs to use the bathroom, he'll go back to his apartment. At the end of a day, he's exhausted.
"Honestly, I just get into that zone," he says. "It's come with time, but once you get into that zone, you kind of get in a flow. You just know what to do at the right times. You learn to read people. See what people are going to catch interest, and squeak at them. Learn what people aren't going to bother."
Button plans to work weekends in September before going home to New York. After Thanksgiving, he'll head back to Florida for more busking. He won't say how much he earns in tips, only that it's enough to cover his rent and get by.
"Mom and Dad say it's time to go back, pursue something different, but right now, I just enjoy making people happy," Button says. "Seeing the impact I have on these people. The kids are going to remember it this year. Knowing I'm adding something to their vacation, and that I'm doing something people appreciate. That's what keeps me going every day."
From the DelmarvaNow.com series "Characters of the Ocean City Boardwalk."
Comments
Post a Comment