Jackson Free Press

Watching George Glass demonstrate his skill with a bullwhip, I was convinced that I could grow to enjoy this sport. On eBay I could find myself an inexpensive whip, then I could order some videos from Western Stage Props: "Whip Cracking Made Easy" and "Whip Cracking Made Easy—Part Two," finally working my way up to "No Bull Whip Cracking"—a study of over 30 advanced whip cracking techniques." For now, though, Glass—a 57-year-old insurance man who lives in Ridgeland with his wife, Sherrie, a music teacher at Northwest Middle School—is my best bet for hands-on whipping.

Glass, who met me on the sidewalk with Uzi, their cute little Papillon who is "scared to death of whips," has been in Mississippi since 1987 by way of Connecticut and Florida. He first fell for whip-cracking when he was an 8-year-old. His dad had taken him to the Ringling Bros. Circus. There, whip artist Johnny Kirk mesmerized him. Back home, Glass walked around swinging a belt on the end of a stick. His dad offered to get him a real whip, suggesting he write the man in the circus; Kirk answered and offered to make Glass his very own whip for $7.50. "I felt really special [then], and I felt real unhappy when I was 13 years old and, for some reason, that whip disappeared, stolen or lost." It was not until 1971, while stationed in Dayton with the Air Force, that Glass connected with whips again. At a Tandy Leather store he found a whip kit. "After four hours of cursing and sweating, I finally got me a whip," he said.

That same whip is one of 10 he owns today—one fancy stock whip made of supple kangaroo leather, dyed red and black and braided beautifully; two "inexpensive stock whips for two-hand work"; a 4-foot-long very flexible snake whip, also made of kangaroo in a "20-plait, meaning the outer layer is 20 individual strands"; as well as six bull whips—three kangaroo, three cowhide.

In his side yard, Glass demonstrated whip cracking. "Physics is what makes a whip crack … it's flexible and … at a hard crack [it] is actually traveling faster than a 22 [caliber] bullet," Glass explained. Loud zips followed by even louder snaps filled the air as Glass cracked his whips. I wondered about his neighbors. "Most of these people have their windows shut," he said.

I had brought flowers as Glass had suggested, so that he could demonstrate his technique. Using his shortest whip, he snapped the heads off several of the bright yellow, long-stemmed Winn-Dixie chyrsanthemums—after shortening their stems to about 9 inches. Hold flower in left hand, crack whip with right hand, simple—the flowers' heads flew right off. One even exploded into a shower of petals.

I stood in utter awe and decided if asked, I would hold a flower—not with any shortened stem—for him to take a crack at. Good Lord, do you suppose that's how that saying got its start? When he asked, I said, "Not without my hat." Last Saturday I had found the best hat at Twigs on Washington Street in Vicksburg; it makes me feel splendidly confident. Tightening it beneath my chin I took the over-2-foot long flower in my left hand, as directed, never blinking as I literally felt the split second that flower departed from its stem.

Back inside Glass showed me a video of John Brady, the world's greatest whip artist, and his wife, performing their act. "There is a shot that is so dramatic and so dangerous that it would make your minister say 'Holy sh*t!' right from the pulpit." So right: Brady's wife placed a small solid, flat round piece of candy on his tongue and calmly flicked it off without even a nick.

When I asked Glass if anybody might think whip-crackers are kinda nuts, he replied, "Probably, but most people would consider me a little eccentric." Glass, whose other passion is opera, wants to hook up with those who either desire to take up the sport of whip-cracking or are already veterans of the sport. "It's no fun being the only nut with a whip," he said.

If you're interested, take a look at http://www.whipenthusiasts.org; contact Glass at 898-9778.

Serious inquiries only.
— Lynette Hanson, Nov. 26, 2003