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Bedlam reigned in the crowded trailer where four young brothers and their kid sister clowned, mother ironed, father dashed in and out, a toy poodle romped over suitcases and a pretty bride sat quietly, shaking her head.
"We're just a typical family," insists Barry Cowsill, age 15.
But somehow you don't believe him. What typical family packs nine of its members, a dog, a stage crew and hundreds of pounds of amplifiers, guitars and other gear into two station wagons and a truck and heads for a four-month, cross-country tour of fairs?
And, when not running off to take in all the freak shows, wows its audience with high-spirited performances of five smash hits, two of them million-sellers, and favorites from albums that have sold over three million copies?
The Cowsills, the rollicking, boisterous, musicians who opened yesterday at the Heart of Illinois Fair, certainly are not that typical.
For one thing, they've managed to bridge the "generation gap," in their relations with each other, as well as in their shows. The performing part of the family not only includes the typical rock combo of four boys, aged 14 through 20, but 11-year-old sister Susan and svelte "mini-mommy," Mrs. Barbara Cowsill ("I'm 29," she kids).
Also on the trip are Nancy, who has been married to 20-year-old Bob only two months, and "Dad," Bud Cowsill, a 20-year Navy veteran, who sees that family and gear get to the right place at the right time.
The oldest brother, Bill, 22, has left the group and branched out on his own and Dick, former manager and Bob's twin, is in the service.
Bill and Bob were the first singing Cowsills, harmonizing together more than 10 years ago in their Rhode Island hometown. As the others grew up, they pitched in.
Finally, the boys asked Mrs. Cowsill to sing with them because they wanted "something extra." It worked - her first recording with them, "The Rain, the Park and Other Things," made the Cowsills a sensation.
Mrs. Cowsill, sunny and unshaken by the madhouse in the trailer behind the grandstand, believes "there is no such thing as a generation gap . . . it's a copout. What it really is, is a breakdown in communication."
Paul, 18, agrees: "I have this Life magazine from back in 1928 and it says . . . Children probems - what are parents going to do? The youth of today are rebelling. The only differece is they pictured 'em in a bar drinking and now they'd be at a pot party."
The Cowsills, says Paul, successfully share their lives and music with each other because "Mom understands us and we understand her."
Bob adds, "It takes an effort though. It doesn't come naturally. Each side has to give in some, has to compromise."
Two of the issues thata divide so many teens and parents - music and hair - pose no problems for the Cowsills.
Mrs. Cowsill enjoys music of all kinds, including the fast, Beatle-style-rock.
Barry, 15, says he loves classical music and thinks "everybody would if they took the time to listen to it."
Mrs. Cowsill did not record "Hair," one of the group's biggest hits, with her brood, but jokes, "The only thing that bothers me about hair is if it's too short. (Her own brunette, pixie-ish cap is shorter than her sons' shaggy locks).
She says she went to a wax museum recently where Christ's 12 Disciples were depicted. "You could take those people and see them right on the street today - St. Andrew, St. James. All had long hair."
"Long hair is out of sight, I think," says Paul. "I'll always have my hair long and then when I have my kids they'll say, 'Man, Dad, you've got to get with it and get a crew cut." And I'll probably say 'beat it, kid.' "
John, 14, says he and his brothers sometimes are told to "get a haircut." On the way to Peoria, the group's managers were refused a room in a motel because of their longish hair.
Politically, the older youths say they lean toward the conservative. "I'm for Nixon," says Bob. I think he's neat . . . he's got guts. I'm going to vote for him in 1972."
Do all the Cowsills feel that way?
"I don't think so," Susan pipes up and looks at John, who smiles and says, "Well . . . tricky Dick's got a few tricks up his sleeve."
Paul and Bob are out of school a year, waiting to see if they will be drafted.
"If either of us get drafted, we'd go, no questions asked . . . We'd just walk right through and not say anything," says Bob. "I can think of better things to do," Paul quips.
Do they have any anti-war feelings?
"Sure, who likes war," says Bob, and Paul finishes his statement, "So that's anti-war . . . I don't like war, so I'm against the Vietnam war."
"If I get drafted," he continues, "the war I'm going to fight isn't the war over there but the war that might be here, where my son might have to be out on the doorstep shooting at something. I won't be fighting to save the Vietnamese . . . I'll be fighting communism.
Bob's twin, Dick, has completed two tours of duty in Vietnam.
"He think it's a waste," whispers Mrs. Cowsill.
Bob disagrees: "I don't think it's a waste."
The Cowsills say they don't condemn rebellious youth, they think the rebels have something important to say and should be listened to, but they aren't about to join them.
Says Bob: "No matter what they say, everybody's going to join the system sooner or later. They'll fight it up to the end, but then they'll realize that by fighting it, they can't help it change. You've got to join it to help it change."
The Cowsills serious moments don't last too kong. Offstage, they're not terribly different from the singing, clowning, mincing, noisy performers.
Asking them a simple question doesn't prove so simple.
When did you get into Peoria?
"Yesterday, we got in Peoria yesterday," croons Bob (or is it Paul?) to the tune of the Beatles song.
Soon all are shouting and singing and Mom grabs a drumstick and whistles for silence.
"Mom's a whistling gypsy," shouts John (or is it Barry?)
"A whistling gypsy went over the hill," sings Paul
Have you seen the fair?
"I've been too busy ironing," says Mrs. Cowsill.
No maid?
"Yeah, we do," one of the boys yells gleefully and points to Bob's wife. "that's her in disguise."
"Oh boy," shouts Susan, "You should see her with her wig off and her face all . . . "
Her remarks are drowned out by shrieks of laughter from her brothers.
What's life like when you're not on the road?
"The same," Mrs. Cowsill groans.
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