Among the rows of fresh produce at your local farmer’s market stands Charlie Chuckles with his face hidden under makeup and an elaborate patterned costume of frills at his table. The table is full of colorful, not to mention locally grown, cotton candy.

Chuckles began C. C. Candy with his wife, Carly Chuckles, while the two were finishing at University of Arizona College of Clowning. Being a vendor at the Phoenix Public Market began as a hobby, Chuckles said, but it had such booming success within the first year that he was able to turn it into a career.

“My wife and I were both majoring in clown culture,” said Charlie. “After meeting each other in an agriculture class, we came up with the idea for what would become C. C. Candy. We were both naturally curious about locally grown cotton candy and candy corn that we wanted to try it ourselves. It didn’t take long for us to fall in love with the craft.”

C. C. Candy is best known for its organic, gluten-free cotton candy. The Chuckles live on their farm where they grow the cotton candy as well as candy corn and lollipops. They explained the process is similar to that of growing fruits and vegetables, but “more fun.”

“One day, it’s just a small stalk and the next morning the sugar has woven itself into this yummy, dissolvable fluff,” said Carlie. “It’s white when it’s grown, and we add organic food coloring to make it bright and colorful.”

Farm-to-table practices are what makes C.C. Candy stand out among local produce purveyors. The business is a fixture at Phoenix Public Market and is looking to expand into places like Whole Foods and Sprouts.

Following in her parents footsteps is eight-year-old CiCi. With flowers up her sleeves and a card deck in hand, she performs simple magic tricks that ends up attracting customers of all kinds. Her giggle can be heard from across the square, luring everyone to watch her perform and sample fresh candy corn.

“CiCi is a natural entertainer,” said Charlie. “We didn’t even force her to come along to the market with us. Since before she could talk, she was interested in gardening and practicing her tricks.”

Not even CiCi could save the family from the sudden drop in sales. In light of the recent clown scares across the country, people have been reluctant to approach C. C. Candy.

“I’m not going to change who I am,” said Charlie. “I’m proud to be a clown, and I want to show my daughter that she should be proud to be a clown as well. People are too quick to judge one another. Our loyal customers are the only ones who seem convinced that we don’t haunt the streets at night.”

The hard times aren’t going to cause this clown family to stop doing what they love. They can be found at the Phoenix Public Market every Saturday morning selling local favorites and bringing new products this winter.

“We’ll be introducing lemon drops,” said Charlie. “We just got our hands on some seeds, and now is the best season to start growing. They’ve been a family favorite for generations, and I’m looking forward to sharing them with the community.”

Circus preservation activists and community members are outraged after partial demolition began on the historic Circus Records and Apes big top tent.

“We didn’t think people would be that upset,” said Jacob Jefferies, of Kingdom LLC, the developer for the project. “It’s just an old tent. We didn’t think anyone would care that much.”

The site, which once housed elephants, clowns, acrobats and circus performers is expected to house young urban professionals if the 30-story mixed-use building is completed. Originally, the 69-year-old tent was a beloved midcentury big top circus. The new building will still incorporate a part of the previous tent on the side of the building.

Part of the controversy surrounding the tent surrounds the possibility of the use of a tax incentive to help fund the project. Some community members feel the corporate takedown of the big top tent was inappropriate, and giving public money to the project could send the wrong message.

“What type of precedence is this setting for not only big top tents, but smaller circus tents and even carnivals?” circus activist Anne Teak said. “We need to preserve carnival history.”

The tent had not been used in years, for a circus or otherwise, but a few preservationists have hailed the tent for its unique design. While the tent was not registered on the national circus register, it’s been on the watch list of some preservationists.

“There’s something nice about the unique striped pattern and the tarp material used for the tent. You don’t see buildings like that anymore,” preservationist Bill Dinlover said.

Local clowns, community members and circus preservation activists have been meeting with the developers to try to convince them to preserve the big top tent.

“This happened when we were in the middle of discussions,” said community member Oliver Sutton. “I mean sure the developers weren’t paying attention, but I really thought they would keep the tent up.”

The plans will “most definitely” include micro-apartments, and might include a unit of semi-affordable, part-time workforce housing for local clowns in the part of the tent that is being preserved.

“We want them to feel at home, which is why we will allow them to stay in the portion of the building that still has the tent material,” Jefferies said. “All we ask for is a tax break in return for taking the big top off your hands.”

In an attempt at mending community relations, the developers announced the new building plan may also incorporate billboards designed with the help of local clown artists.

The partial loss of the tent sparked discussions on how to ensure that circus history is not destroyed.

“If we keep tearing down every old big top-10 tent that isn’t in use, what will young clowns have left?,” local activist I.D. Clair said.

In what has been an extraordinarily rough year for the clowning profession, the Big Top literally came down on Phoenix Wildcats today as the Liaison Committee on Clowning Education announced that the University of Arizona College of Clowning – Phoenix would not receive accreditation.

For nearly half a century, Tucson and Phoenix had lobbied extensively for a center of clowning education. Heated debates punctuated by pies to faces characterized the crisis that would end in the 1967 establishment of the College of Clowning at the University of Arizona in Tucson.

But since then, the issues revolving the shortage of clowns have not gone away as every county except for Pima County continued to have lower than average clown per 100,000 people ratios according to the Arizona Clown Workforce Study from 1992 to 2004.

The Phoenix Children’s Hospital begged legislators for aid in a press release as without clowns terrorizing the children, “How are we make a magnetic resonance imaging machine seem relatively calming?”

The early 2000s were an era of optimism in which the Insane Clown Posse still was comparatively legitimate. Here, many on the City Council and the Arizona Board of Clowns saw an opportunity to revitalize the downtown Phoenix community and serve the state of Arizona.

While some opponents claimed it would change the character of downtown too dramatically to have a bunch of young and wild clown students in the neighborhood, some local advocates were pacified by their commitment to preserving the Phoenix Union High School Buildings.

While most would assume the small buildings at Van Buren and Fifth Street would only be able to fit around 20 students, the industrious clowns fit upwards of 120 students in each class to the dismay of the fire marshal.

“You know, after squeezing ten people into a Mini Cooper, this place feels spacious,” second year clown student Polk A. Dots said. “And it’s way more spacious than the DASH.”

Yet since that historic opening during the happiest of times in 2008, the Clown School in Phoenix has faced significant problems.

Funding for the school was dramatically cut, forcing many students to change their characters to the classic “hobo clown” as they could no longer afford clean clothes, new makeup or housing.

Yet the greatest blow came just recently as long-time Dean Baggy Britches went to the Big Top in the Sky – a new Clown School started in Fort Worth, Texas which is coincidentally where all the old and retiring Phoenix educators go much like how your old dog just went to the farm in upstate New York all those years ago.

While tears rolled down many brightly colored faces, fourth year Clown Student Toodles McGee was still optimistic.

“Clowning around is serious business, unlike say brain surgery,” McGee said while compulsively creating a balloon cat. “I have full faith that we will pull through as a school and clown down.”

The Clowns United National Touring System is set to open up the first ever taxpayer-funded American circus right here in downtown Phoenix.

Chairman Robb Erie said Saturday that the development would provide benefits for the downtown Phoenix community through amenities such as elephant excrement and face-painted men hurling pies.

“It is our belief that the rest of the populace must pay for their constant disrespect of the clown community,” Erie said.

The establishment of the circus next to the Circle K on First Avenue and Fillmore Street has been applauded by the numerous employees and patrons of the gas station who work second jobs as clowns to make ends meet.

“It’s great to work at both of my jobs and know that they’ll be right next to each other,” said Eric Tile, a cashier at the Circle K. “I would say it’ll stop me from clowning around but that wouldn’t exactly be accurate.”

The Touring System is expected to ask for public assistance in the way of a Government Property Lease Excise Tax. Unlike normal property taxes, which are based on the land’s value, GPLET rates are based on the size of a property and the buildings on it. For agreements signed before 2010, the GPLET rate will actually decrease over the duration of the lease.

But not everyone is laughing at the downtown clownery. Several clown community activists have voiced complaints that their tax dollars are going toward an organization that will siphon off circus-goers that would normally visit the local Roosevelt Row historic clown district.

“This money would normally go toward Arizona’s clown schools, which have been severely neglected in past years,” said downtown resident Paul N. Yurleg.

The Touring System has defended its request for a tax incentive in this situation, saying downtown Phoenix has long been a clown desert.

The Phoenix Clown Council is expected to pass the motion granting the Touring System GPLET soon, and community activists are outraged.

“It’s almost like they don’t care about the up-and-coming clowns,” Yurleg said. “And when that happens people will just think we’re creepy.”

CORRECTION: An earlier version of this story erroneously reported that Mayor Greg Stanton was a ghost all along. It has been updated to reflect that he was in fact a clown all along.

An analysis of archival footage from Greg Stanton’s various public appearances and press events suggests that the mayor of Phoenix has been a clown all along.

A collaboration between the Phoenix Diablo, the Paranormal Center for Investigative Reporting, and University of Arizona College of Clowning- Phoenix looked at 107 minutes of footage to reach this conclusion.

“Everything looks pretty normal the first time you watch it,” said Joel Otmens, executive director of PCIR. “But if you watch it again knowing that Stanton’s a clown you’ll understand why young children are so frightened by him and why he takes his vacation whenever the circus is in town.”

Other key clues uncovered include credit card charges showing thousands of dollars spent at Sephora and MAC on theatre makeup and Stanton’s opponents’ urinating in their pants out of fear during debates in the 2011 and 2015 elections.

It’s currently unclear how Stanton’s status as a clown, the most ostracized of children’s entertainment, will impact his second term in office or urban development policies. The revelations have made some, like downtown advocate Steve Stevoski, doubtful of the mayor’s accomplishments so far.

“I mean, that explains some of the successes with homeless veterans,” he said. “I knew the government couldn’t actually get that done. Clowns make much more sense.”

Stevoski also expressed concerns that Stanton’s upcoming policies would promote the clownification of Phoenix.
“I just don’t want to see all of these living art studios and small buildings replaced by creepy clown apartment complexes.”

At time of publishing, it is unclear how many clowns reside in downtown Phoenix apartment complexes.
Stanton supported both the Ghost Property Lease Excise Tax (GPLET) program, which is deemed responsible for drawing a number of major ghost businesses to the downtown area and the Clown Business Improvement District.
The mayor’s office declined to speak with Phoenix Diablo.

UPDATE: Stanton has released a statement:
“…”

UPDATE 2: Our staff received a statement:
“I can assure you all that I am not a ghost,” the statement read.

UPDATE 3: An additional collaboration with the University of Arizona College of Clowning-Phoenix revealed that Stanton was, in fact, a clown all along.

UPDATE 4: Our staff received a statement:
“I can assure you all that I am not a clown,” the statement read.

Stay tuned for more collaboration between the Diablo, PCIR and UA College of Clowning-Phoenix including an investigation into the claim that luxury developers can be repelled using glasses of water.