Torture King's Sideshow Stunts Stun Audiences
Las Vegas Review-Journal January 17, 2003
by Mike Weatherford
Zamora, 'The Torture King,' knows a thing or two about show
business. 'My experience is, you don't want to scare 'em too much,' says the
star of Bourbon Street's new show, 'Shock.' 'If you do the skewer thing right
away, there's a chance people will run away. You've got to build up to it.' So
he builds his show, paces it. He often starts out by walking on eggshells,
literally, without breaking them. Then he moves on to what he calls the 'very
classical' art of fire-eating and sword-swallowing. 'The skewer thing' properly
takes its place as the grand finale. That's when Zamora, formerly the
mild-mannered Tim Cridland, takes the surgically sterilized lance and thrusts
it through his bicep. 'You can tell it's no magic trick,' says 'Shock'
co-producer Scott Lewis -- himself a performing hypnotist -- in a hushed tone
of awe. 'You can see the skin bulge right before the needle comes through.'
After seeing Zamora do his needle thing during Knott's Berry Farm's annual
Halloween show, Lewis knew he'd found his star. 'Shock' is a blatant nod to the
success of 'Jackass: The Movie,' though co-producer Robert Allen says his idea
for a sideshow on the Strip is 7 years old. Lewis and Allen tested 'Shock' with
a brief run at the Riviera in the fall, but the hotel put a wet blanket on the
more extreme efforts to justify the title. Bourbon Street proved more
accommodating for the show that will run on weekends only, barring further
demand. Zamora has been punishing himself in public since the Jim Rose Circus
became a Lollapalooza festival highlight in 1991. He left Rose in 1994 to go
his own way,and now stages his own shows as well as working as a geek-for-hire.
During his downtime as the mild-mannered Cridland, the Torture King shrugs and
explains his strange line of work as 'just kind of an obsession of mine that
kept building throughout my life.' But sideshows were on the wane when he was
growing up, and books often contained dangerously misleading how-to
information. 'After awhile I was teaching myself how to do some of this, after
long research,' he says. Cridland says he 'got into the whole thing from the
entertainment aspect, but began to study where it all came from. I was learning
these meditative techniques from people who do this not in an entertainment
context, but in a holistic context.' It really is mind over matter, he insists.
(Hence, his Web site, www.mindandmatter.net). 'I know exactly what I'm doing.
I'm very focused.' But he doesn't want to bore you with that unless you really
want to hear about it. 'People come to Vegas to have fun and that's what we
give them.' Like David Strassman's ventriloquist act, Zamora says his stunts
work best as a live antidote to television or movie magic. 'When you do see
this live, it's absolutely real and you're certain of it.' Still, he
understands skepticism in a city full of magicians. 'The power of belief is
strong. Also the power of disbelief is strong, I've found,' he says. He's
swallowed swords in front of an X-ray machine and let people examine the
aftermath. 'The sword's obviously been in the body, but they're still not going
to believe if they don't want to? What can I do?' Most customers need less
convincing. Zamora is especially pleased when big, obnoxiously drunken
fraternity guys pass out cold. 'A falling ovation,' Lewis volunteers.
PERFORMER GOES TO GREAT PAINS
The Ottawa Sun July 7, 2003
by Derek Puddicombe
For Tim Cridland, the blues is all about pain. With 180 acts
at this year's Bluesfest, Cridland, 39, is probably the only performer that
doesn't carry a guitar, drumstick or horn or sing a note when he steps on
stage. But he knows all about pain and grossing out his audience. Although
Cridland, who hails from Las Vegas and is also known as the Torture King,
doesn't sing the blues, his show is in keeping with the carnival theme of this
year's Bluesfest. "My act lends itself to outdoor performances, but it's
not crude or rude," he says. Rude and crude is a matter of interpretation,
which he leaves up to his audience. It's certainly not for the faint-hearted or
squeamish. And as Cridland tells his audience before his shows, he hopes they
have successfully digested their meals. To warm up his audience, Cridland
demonstrates his taste for fire-eating. He then moves on to sword swallowing --
just a "light snack," he explains. Still feeling a little peckish,
Cridland smashes a light bulb with a hammer and begins to chew its shattered
remains. At this point, it's about 10 minutes into his 30-minute show and the
first time groans, gasps and nervous laughter are heard from the audience as
the crunching sounds of glass between his teeth are amplified by a microphone.
The gasps return when Cridland reclines on four sword blades. A few cover their
eyes as a cinder block is placed on his chest and smashed with a sledgehammer.
"I don't think this is disgusting at all. I think it's great," said
Justin Trudeau, 19, from Montreal. "I can't believe that someone has such
great command over his body." The part of the act that had most squinting
was when Cridland penetrated his body with long, sharp skewers. He took one
skewer, pierced his tongue, then let it work its way down so it popped through
skin underneath his chin. But it didn't bother Trudeau or his friend. "The
blues is all about pain," said Steve Joncas, 20. But what had 24-year-old
Lindsay Ross wondering was how Cridland was going to digest the glass. "I
want to know how he goes to the bathroom the next day after eating the light
bulb."
JIM ROSE AND TORTURE KING WAGE WAR OF CARNY CARNAGE
WINNIPEG SUN Winnipeg, Manitoba 1999
by Jill Wilson
Jim Rose is slick, eloquent, egomaniac - a man
who's equal parts snake oil salesman and Tony Robbins. Of course, that's the
perfect combination for someone who makes his living as the ringmaster of a
travelling circus. The charismatic frontman is probably best known as the
leader of the Jim Rose Circus Sideshow - a collection of self-made freaks who
toured with Lollapalooza. He and the troupe are back in Winnipeg tomorrow with
their Secrets Of The Strange tour One mystery the entertainer is eager to explain
is the appearance of former Sideshow member Zamora The Torture King at the same
venue one day after his gig. "It's not a strange coincidence. He is
intentionally booking shows, trying his hardest to screw me and to puff himself
up," says Rose of Zamora, who contributed to Circus of the Scars, a
less-than-flattering book about the troupe. "I guess I'll have to fear him
when he no longer has to say, 'Formally of the Jim Rose Circus' - He didn't
resonate and I guess the reason he's doing this is because there's nothing more
bitter than an opporunist that miscalculated." But there's really not much
else Zamora, whose real name is Tim Cridland, could do. There's not a lot of
call for a sword-swallowing, egg-walking, human pin-cushion outside the
entertainment world. Or maybe there is. The soft-spoken Cridland recently
appeared on a 48 Hours segment dealing with chronic pain management - if you've
seen The Torture King calmly stick skewers though his neck, you'll know he's
got a handle on pain control. "There's nothing abnormal about me
physically," says Cridland, 35, who's been studying circus feats and
anatomy since he was a teen. "The things I do have to do with the mind and
the body - I've changed the way my brain reacts to an external stimulus. I feel
it, but it's not a negative feeling." Cridland also denies negative
feelings towards Rose. "He just took the show in a different
direction," says the performer, who travels with a contortionist and a
strong man. "It was more comedy stuff, more crude. I'm bringing traditional
stunts back from the past." He says he didn't set out to stage a showdown
with Rose's show but admits that the publicity is to both of their benefits.
"Perhaps it's a friendly feud," he says. "It's going to help
both of us it it's newsworthy and gets both our names in the press." You
get the feeling the two men may be playing the duel up for dramatic effect - no
real feat for such consumate showmen. But as P.T. Barnum said, there's a sucker
born every minute - and whether they're playing us for fools or not, they're
both probably worth the price of a midway ticket or two
New Generation of Fans, Performers Take in the Show
St. Cloud Times December 10, 1999
by Scott M. Larson
"No, he can't do that," one man gasped as Zamora
the Torture King cut into his stomach Thursday night at the Java Joint. Yes, he
can. He is the Torture King and this is his touring sideshow. Using surgical
scissors, Zamora dug into the hole in his stomach and started pulling out about
three yards of twine he had swallowed. "I don't want to see this," a
woman yelped, just as Zamora, otherwise known as Tim Cridland, dangled
Christmas ornaments then pulled the twine free of his body. It is a technique
known as a Yogi internal floss, which Cridland used to clean out the glass he
just swallowed from a broken light bulb. Gather round, one and all. Come see
the resurgence of the sideshow - a lost art that was seemingly doomed after
circuses quit sideshows to go for a more wholesome, family appeal. "This
used to be family entertainment," Cridland said before the show.
"It's strange. It's bizarre. It's shocking. But it's a fun type of
shocking." Cridland has been on the road for about eight months. He and
his cohorts play five shows a week. He laments the fall of the sideshow from
its glory days as part of the circus. But he is trying to resurrect the lost
art through his show, which includes driving needles through his muscles,
licking a red-hot iron and bending it with his feet and using his chest as a
butcher's block. "The advantage is people see so many special effects on
TV that when people see it up front there is no question that it is real,"
Cridland said. Like Patrick Wyman and Emily Streit, who debated the merits of
the show with squeamish sounds and painful noises. They said they knew it would
be interesting, but they still were not prepared. "Not this, man. I didn't
think he was going to cut his stomach open," Wyman said. "I'm
astounded that someone could do something like that," Streit said.
Cridland said his goal is to entertain. He equates his act to the same feeling
a person gets from riding a rollercoaster. "It's scary, but you want to
get right back on," he said. He uses meditation techniques to diffuse any
pain he might feel on stage, and he controls his body's reaction."The
reaction is what you have control over," Cridland said. "By changing
your external output you can change the world around you." The crowd was
wary at first. It wasn't sure what to think. But as the show went on, the crowd
got more and more into it, yelling and screaming and clapping wildly. "If
you were squeamish, you wouldn't be here in the first place," Cridland
said on stage with an overly dramatic tone. But some in the crowd still
squirmed and gasped at each act of torture. "Don't worry, I know my
anatomy well," Zamora the Torture King announces.
From TV Guide
October 31, 1998
by Mark Schwed
Meet Tim Cridland of Seattle, one of the "stars"
of the new Fox series Guinness World Records: Primetime. His claim to fame, or
should we say pain? He's the Human Pincushion, who, in trying to set a Guinness
world record, skewered his chest with about 100 pins. By the time the pin man
got to 98, one burly camera operator was so unsettled that he nearly hit the
deck while shooting the record attempt. "He got that look you get when
you're about to pass out," says our spy. "And he says to the guy
behind him, 'Take the camera now! I think I'm going to faint.' And he quickly
sat himself down and put his head between his knees." We can only hope
home viewers don't have the same reaction this November.
DAILY DISH
1998
by Susan Campbell Beachy
"What kind of man likes to eat fire and swallow swords? Meet Zamora the Torture King, one of the featured performers in . . . The Secret World of Circuses and Side Shows. "What I do isn't causing me pain or injury," insists Zamora, a king of pain who also answers to the name Tim Cridland. "I'm showing that I'm overcoming situations that would normally be painful or cause injury." He doesn't take his "classic sideshow feats" - which include walking on broken glass and having sticks broken over his back - lightly. "Everything I do is very dangerous," says Zamora, who researches all the stunts very carefully before he attempts them. "Almost everything has life-threatening potential. In sword-swallowing, the sword actually does go down my throat and into my stomach. If I punctured the stomach lining, it could lead to peritonitis, which happens when the stomach acid gets into the system. That can be a fatal injury." The Secret World . . . isn't, strictly speaking, the first TV appearance for the Torture King, who caught the attention of The Simpsons' writers when he toured with Lollapalooza in 1992. When the Fox toon had an episode featuring a Lollapalooza-like festival, says Zamora, "There was a character on there named Impervo the Painless who seemed to be based on me. He showed up again on the carnival episode of the show. So I can say I've been on The Simpsons twice, a brag most people can't make." What's next for Zamora? He's preparing to take his show . . . on tour throughout the eastern U.S. and Canada, and has also begun learning a new act. "There was a guy in the '40s who would take a sharp fencing sword and have it put through his back. It would come out his front, underneath his solar plexus - right through the middle of the body," says Zamora, who has been researching the stunt through newsreel footage and medical journals. "I've got a long way to go. Obviously, it's a major feat. But that is something I'd like to do."
SIDESHOWS ADD AWE TO HERITAGE FESTIVAL
The Palm Beach Post - November 9, 1995
by Tim O'Meilia
Remember the fire-eaters and the sword-swallowers of the old-time traveling carnivals that stopped for a weekend and then went down the road? Maybe your parents or grandparents told you about them. How they weren't quite certain how much was trickery and how much mysticism. Let's hear it for the Torture King, who holds a razor-sharp meat cleaver to his chest and lets his assistant wallop it with a two-by-four, leaving only a red mark on his torso. The Torture King offers a taste of art of the old sideshow at the Heritage Festival at the South Florida Fairgrounds through Sunday. A few of those who weren't listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter in the entertainment hall Wednesday stopped by to see ``Beyond Belief,'' a glimpse at skills that are slipping away as sideshows have disappeared. The Torture King, otherwise known as Tim Cridland, walks on crushed glass, besides eating fire and swallowing swords. In the finale, the Torture King slides a skewer through his upper arm, creating a shish-ka-bicep. ``I knew a guy in Vermont. He swallowed razor blades. The double-edged ones,'' said 74-year-old Francis Pawlusiak, who now lives in Boynton Beach. ``I think he's still alive. In Massachusetts,'' he said, as if that was an even greater feat.
