For most of his adult years, Tim Strauch has led a double life, and a peculiar one at that. It would not be unkind to call him two-faced.

Strauch, 61, is a highly regarded schoolteacher who has steered many troubled kids in the right direction. In his very organized spare time, he's a popular clown who entertains children and adults alike at parties, fairs and retail store events. He has performed before Ronald Reagan and worked with the legendary Red Skelton.

The idea to become a clown came at a moment when desperation collided with inspiration.

Nothing in Strauch's childhood suggested he would grow up to wear makeup and floppy shoes and turn frowns into smiles.

The fifth-generation Sacramentan was a farm boy who rose at 3 a.m. to help his dad milk the cows. He dreamed of going into law enforcement. He wasn't particularly funny. There was no inner clown yearning to break out.

After high school, he joined the Air National Guard and spent four years as an air policeman and cryptographer. He later transferred to the Army National Guard and rose to become a colonel.

"When he said he was going to be a clown, I just laughed and said, 'Yeah, right,' recalls Strauch's wife, Susan.

That was in the fall of 1971. The Strauchs found themselves sitting in a restaurant eating tacos and commiserating over their careers. The fish and chips franchise which they had managed 18 hours a day for the past year had gone bust. They had a young son and Susan was pregnant.

They were nearly broke, the job market was tight and Tim, who had some part-time teaching experience, knew he couldn't get a classroom job until the fall -- 10 months away.

That's when he remembered the clown he had enlisted for the grand opening of the Molly Malone's Fish & Chips store in North Highlands.

"I hired this guy sight unseen, but he was never in front of the store. He was always in the back of the restaurant smoking a cigarette," he said. "I remember thinking, 'I could do a better job than this guy.' "

"I know what I'll do," Tim announced. "I'll be a clown."

As luck would have it, there was a costume rental shop across the street on Fulton Avenue.

With his wife in tow, he walked into the shop and bought clown makeup, a wig and a rubber nose.

"I was just shocked that he would do this," said Susan, who has spent most of her career in retail management. "He was a military guy 100 percent. For him to even bring it up was shocking."

Before his clown debut, Tim worked as a shopping center Santa. It paid $300 a week for five weeks.

The shopping center manager was so impressed she hired him as a clown in January for a promotional event that paid $100 a day for four days.

Something just clicked when he donned the makeup, wig, overcoat and the military-issue shoes he spray-painted green. He was someone else -- quick-witted, a performer, the center of attention.

"When he became Timo, he was free -- free to open himself up and be funny and sarcastic sometimes," said Susan.

He started out as Timbo the Clown until he received a call from the original Timbo threatening legal action. Timbo became Timo.

Strauch didn't know how to juggle or tie funny balloons or do magic. He put those things into his act little by little.

He soon launched his career as a teacher.

Clowning has been a boon to the family finances for decades. In the early days, he made $50 a day performing at fairs and $35 for birthday parties.

Today, the much more polished Timo commands $650 a day for working a fair and $175 for a 90-minute show at birthday parties.

When he became a full-time teacher, he was careful to never mix clowning and education. Strauch wanted to maintain respect in the classroom.

These days, he runs an orientation program he created for two continuation high schools in the Grant Joint Union High School District. Many of the students he encounters have been sent to the school because of disciplinary problems. Prior to that, he was a traditional teacher who often went beyond the call of duty to help students in need.

One such youngster was Chris Eldredge, who lived in a housing project with his disabled mother. Eldredge joined the California Cadet Corps in junior high, where Col. Strauch was his teacher.

"He took me under his wing and saw that a couple of us didn't have dads around," said Eldredge, 45. "One day he brought me home for dinner with his family. Before I knew it, I was part of the family."

With Strauch's encouragement, Eldredge landed a scholarship, became an Army officer, then a successful stockbroker and, for the past 10 years, a special agent with the FBI based in San Antonio.

"If it wasn't for him and one other big influence on my life, I wouldn't be where I am today," Eldredge said.

"The guy is amazing," said Randy Orzalli, Strauch's supervisor in the Grant district. "He has compassion for students, yet holds high standards for them. Tim Strauch has literally saved the lives of a number of students over the years. For a lot of our students, school may be the only safe place they experience in their lives and the only place where they see adults who are positive role models."

Every so often, the realities of life get in the way for Strauch, whether it is a gloomy mood or an illness. But those things seem to have no effect on Timo the Clown. Susan and Tim have always referred to Timo in the third person, as if he's another member of the family.

"I really felt it has been therapy for him," Susan said of her husband's alter ego. "He can have something going really wrong in his life and the minute he touches his face with the white (makeup) he changes. He becomes Timo and Timo is a happy person with a great personality."

Says Tim, "I've woken up and I've had a terrible headache or I've had the flu. It takes me about an hour to do the face and build the character. In that time, there's a transition that takes place. That guy in the mirror is no longer Tim Strauch and whatever pain or illness I had goes away."

Because of his long career as a clown, Strauch finds himself hired for birthday parties by parents who remember him from their childhood. People in their 30s and 40s approach and ask if he's the same Timo they saw perform years ago.

"It just really makes me realize that I've made a difference in people's lives," he said.

 

About the writer:

• The Bee's Blair Anthony Robertson can be reached at (916) 321-1099 or brobertson@sacbee.com.