From clowning to theater, Osgood gives her all

Growing up, Kathleen Osgood didn't set out to become a professional clown or the onstage sound effects person for a live radio theater company. She wanted to be a farmer.

"They called me 'the reluctant thespian,' because I'd do anything to stay behind the curtain instead of getting on the stage," laughs Osgood. "But I always ended up in every school play and church play, plus I was in the band. But I wasn't one of the people who dreamed about being a performer — I wanted to go into agriculture."

Osgood got a degree in entomology with a minor in agriculture education from the University of Florida. She went to work for the Florida Department of Agriculture, where she remained for 25 years — the job eventually brought Osgood to her present perch in Monticello. She retired two months ago.

She is doing her best to enjoy her retirement to the fullest — taking a two-week trip to Europe with her 86-year-old father, adopting a new Labrador puppy and performing in shows at the Monticello Opera house. At the same time, she is fighting late-stage lung cancer, which — even though she never smoked — has spread to her bones.

It was while living and teaching in Key West right after graduation that Osgood finally succumbed to the lure of performance. She needed to take continuing education classes for her teaching certificate, and one of the courses she took was a class in clowning.

"The teacher was from Amsterdam, and he was with the Pigeon Drop Theatre, a street theater group. Their business card was a picture of … well, you can imagine," says Osgood. "He put me together with two other women and we became The Spumoni Sisters, the world's best all-female clown troupe. Well, really, the world's only all-female clown troupe."

For several years, The Spumoni Sisters worked in Key West, and on school breaks they trekked across the South to perform on the streets of New Orleans. Unfortunately, a bad car accident ended the troupe's travels.

"I was in full clown makeup, and I got thrown through the windshield onto the car that hit us. It was raining, and they skidded into us really hard, and I smacked against the glass like a bug," says Osgood. "I left an imprint of clown makeup — this squashed white face on the windshield.

"It's weird, but when I found out my cancer had metastasized, the doctor explained that it only gets into bones that have already been weakened, and asked me if I'd ever hurt my neck in a car accident. I guess that really came back years later to haunt me."

Soon after the accident, Osgood returned to her hometown of Palmetto and began working in agricultural labs. She taught clowning classes on the side at Manatee Community College while also continuing her professional clowning career. Some of her students went on to the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College.

She taught a wide range of clowning skills, including makeup, mime, juggling and even fire-eating. But the most important skill for a clown, Osgood says, is to learn to express things with your body.

"If you're trying to convey that you are smart, you would lead with your head. And if you're trying to convey that you are stupid, you let your head hang back," she explains. "If you want to express loving kindness, you hold your hands back so that your chest — your heart — is out. You're portraying a character and your body has to go along with it."