When Dean Petrich performed his first show as Deano the Clown nearly 50 years ago, he wore a handmade clown suit, told the story of the Three Little Bears and pulled a rope from his pocket, to the delight of the kids attending a birthday party. At the end, he pocketed $5 with the epiphany that someone, somewhere, was having a birthday every day.
That simple realization, that he could do something he loved on a daily basis, led to a lifelong career of making children giggle.
The juggling, unicycling, balloon-twisting, skydiving, skiing, story-telling clown who speaks multiple languages and plays several instruments hasn’t had a chance to slow down much during the last five decades, when he performed five to ten shows every week.
That is, until now.
With the looming uncertainty of the COVID-19 pandemic, the South Whidbey clown hung up his size 20 clown shoes and decided it was time to pull the curtain shut on performing. After all, it can be extremely difficult to social distance as a friendly clown, especially when kids aren’t afraid of getting close.
Petrich, 71, first picked up clowning when he was taking early childhood education classes as a young man living in Bellevue. His classmate came to class one day in a clown suit. Petrich, who was a photographer, offered to take her photo in exchange for a clown suit of his own.
“I think I got the better deal,” he said.
His first client was a Mercer Island mom, and he marveled at the money he received for performing at her 5-year-old child’s birthday party. Thus, Deano the Clown was born.
As a boy, he recalled seeing clowns use different voices around grown-ups versus kids. He thought that was dishonest, and made a vow to use his real voice as a clown.
Petrich drew inspiration from Sesame Street’s Big Bird and TV clown J.P. Patches when crafting his persona. Over the years he experimented with a variety of different face powders before settling on his signature look of red, white and blue – red wig, white face, blue eyebrows.
“There’s a psychological transformation that happens when I’m a clown. I get the makeup on and once the face is on, I look in the mirror and I become Deano the Clown and I start seeing everything in goofy ways and I don’t take anything seriously,” he said.
“In fact, when I take my makeup off, it’s hard for me to come down from being silly.”
Petrich immediately began honing his many skills as a clown. He became a member of the Seattle Storytellers Guild and learned over 200 folk tales, fairy tales, legends and myths. He joined the New Games Foundation just to gain knowledge of 600 games. He mastered unicycling by practicing in a parking lot with ski poles and taught himself to juggle with the rocks on Lopez Island, where he was living for a time.
Eventually, he made his way out to Whidbey Island, built his own home and started a family. The island became a place for him to relax, since the majority of his shows were scheduled on the mainland in the Seattle area.
Interacting with kids and making them laugh – perhaps the most important part of being a clown – came easy to Petrich, who developed a slapstick routine that was always good, clean fun.
“I’m not very smart. In fact, I can’t do things as well as the children can,” he said of Deano the Clown. “They have to tell me how to do everything: how to sweep with a broom, how to put my coat on, how to sit in a chair.”
He especially likes falling into garbage cans, or focusing on one object – such as a ladder or his own necktie – and trying to find a solution to an issue with the item.
“My definition of a clown, it’s taking real life and exaggerating it,” he said. “So everything becomes a problem and I have to figure it out and nothing is simple. Clowns can’t handle more than one thing at a time.”
Some of Petrich’s contemporaries in the Puget Sound area entertainment industry have admired him for his enduring connection with kids and his dedication to staying in character. Mario Lorenz, a Tacoma comedy performer who goes by the stage name “Mario the Funny Man,” admitted that he didn’t recognize Petrich the first time he saw him without his signature clown makeup. That was five or six years after he had met the clown for the first time.
“He’s the personification of what clowns are really about. He was a marvelous clown,” Lorenz said. “He just knew how to work crowds and people. He did everything – he juggled, he did magic, he pulled stuff out of places you didn’t know you had.”
Lorenz was particularly impressed by Petrich’s balloon-twisting routine, which involved letting some of the air out of the balloon and letting it comically slap him in the face.
“I probably stole some of his material from time to time,” Lorenz said with a laugh.
Al Hirsch, a Seattle children’s entertainer who goes by “Alley Oop,” praised Petrich for his original material, which he developed on his own.
“There’s so few people that dress up like a clown that are absolutely hilarious at it,” Hirsch said. “He’s unique in that sense of everything he’s done, he created. He’s not copying anybody else.”
Petrich, who fashioned a career out of being goofy, is something of a big kid himself. His “clown house” in Freeland is made out of recycled materials and adorned with unique features such as ziplines, slides and underground tunnels. A lucky list of guests are invited to his annual birthday party, which spans multiple days of fun at his home.
“I make a habit of being the perfect role model for kids,” he said. “In real life, I have never drunk a beer in my life. I’m almost 72. I’ve never had alcohol, I’ve never smoked, I’ve never done drugs, I never swear.”
Birthday parties became his most popular events, although he’s also been booked for a number of festivals and fairs. At one point, he had a contract with the Seattle Center House – now known as the Seattle Center Armory – to perform as the Whirligig clown.
As a clown, he spends time developing a strong rapport with kids, learning their names and making the experience more personable. He keeps them occupied with games, stories, balloons and other clown antics, such as pulling gags and gimmicks from his pockets.
“I play the tricks on myself,” he said. “I don’t like to play tricks on other people ‘cause people don’t like to be made fun of and laughed at, but you can laugh at me all you want.”
He’s developed a tried-and-true routine over the years for birthday parties, which culminates in him riding away off into the sunset on his unicycle – he’s adamant about not spoiling the magic and letting the kids see him get into his car to leave.
One time, he recalled, he had hidden his car around the corner from a party, but it was too close to the festivities to make a discreet exit. So he kept unicycling.
“As I’m riding down the street, I’m attracting more and more neighbors until pretty soon the entire neighborhood is following this clown on his unicycle, and then I ride off on this trail into the woods,” he said with a laugh.
He was concerned the kids were still peeping at him through the tree branches, so he hid in some bushes until everyone left. A week later, he received a call from the mother of the birthday child, who told him that the neighborhood kids were still looking for Deano the Clown out in the woods.
He really shines with kids between the ages of 2 and 12, although he once attended a 21st birthday party and gamely allowed the intoxicated young people present to pour pitcher after pitcher of beer into his never-ending supply of pockets.
A man of many talents, Petrich has performed in other roles besides Deano the Clown. One time, he was asked to impersonate a youth minister in order to liven up a congregation. He had the parishioners jumping up and down, making funny sounds and faces at each other before he revealed his true identity.
Another time, he pretended to be a laser technician and led an extremely boring and entirely fabricated presentation for a room full of businessmen. By the end, he had them standing on their chairs and simulating lasers by rotating their arms and humming.
“These are business guys in suits at a professional business luncheon,” Petrich chuckled.
Over the years, Deano the Clown has been invited to attend some less joyous events, including five funerals. On at least one occasion, it appeared that he had been hired as a practical joke, since the majority of people present seemed to regard the deceased as being an “obnoxious guy,” as he put it.
Petrich teared up when he remembered performing at the birthday party of a 6-year-old girl where the guests never came. In that case, he put on a show just for the little girl and her parents.
“I’ll never forget that,” he said. “She was really sad.”
He’s performed for groups of people representing a wide range of political views, religions and ethnic backgrounds.
“If you look at the history of clowns, there’s circus clowns and then there were the tricksters in the old myths and then there were the magical clowns in the Northwest Indian culture,” he said. “Every culture has clowns.”
According to an article from Smithsonian Magazine, clowns have been around in some form since the times of ancient Egypt.
Petrich explained that to this day, they are considered to be highly revered figures in some countries, such as Mexico and Russia.
“The clown is usually a symbol of happiness and joy and play and freedom,” he said. “The clown takes life and points out parts of it and can break all the rules.”
Not all people view clowns in such a positive light, however. The advent of Stephen King’s “It,” in particular, terrorized kids and hurt the clown industry. There are scores of clown haters online and once someone went so far as to push Petrich when he was recovering from a broken arm just because he had his clown makeup on.
“Now there are no movies of good clowns. All the movies portray clowns as screwed up, or something,” Petrich said. “That’s how you make a scary movie, is you take something nice, like a doll, and you make ‘Chuckie.’”
He’s always harbored a dream of producing a series of humorous videos that portray clowns as being funny and nice.
He developed a technique for helping people overcome their fear. Mostly used for toddlers, he starts his routine from far away and speaks in a calm, even voice, asking questions about where his hat went or what is coming out of his pocket, for example.
“Once they start peeking and responding, I know I’ve got ‘em,” Petrich said. “They’re not scared anymore. See, they’re getting curious.”
Next year will mark 50 years since Petrich began his clowning career. His last show was a birthday party in 2020. Because of the close contact with kids that’s associated with the job, he opted to retire because of the uncertain future of the COVID-19 pandemic. And he’s not alone – there are hardly any clowns performing anymore. Lengthy ferry lines and an increase in Seattle traffic also helped convince him to stay home on Whidbey and do more things locally.
In honor of his 50th anniversary next year, he’s considering putting on a special performance just for Whidbey Island.
He may have retired from clowning, but Petrich has several other occupations to keep him busy. He tunes pianos, installs water filters and sells composting toilets. He has a total of 18 websites related to his other businesses.
Next up, he’d like to write books. A book about 100 games to play with a parachute is forthcoming. Another project in the works is an encyclopedia on how to be a birthday clown.
“I want to write. I majored in English,” he said. “All these years, I’ve wanted to write and I’ve always been so busy I’ve never had time to write.”
Deano the Clown has been entertaining children for decades.(Photo by David Welton)
Deano the Clown helps a Girl Scout with her cookie delivery.
Deano the Clown tries a spoonful of pickles at the galley on a ferry running the Mukilteo-Clinton route.
Over the years Dean Petrich has had a number of clown suits fashioned, each one from a different designer.
Dean Petrich taught himself how to juggle years ago by using the rocks on Lopez Island, where he was living at the time. (Photo by David Welton)
Dean Petrich appears from a secret tunnel at his “clown house” in Freeland. The home, which he built himself, is made entirely of recycled materials.
Dean Petrich appears from a secret tunnel at his “clown house” in Freeland. The home, which he built himself, is made entirely of recycled materials.
Deano the Clown places a child in an empty trashcan during a previous show at the Whidbey Island Fair. (Photo by David Welton)
