In the world of floppy shoes and rainbow wigs, Carol and Myron Jackson are a clown dynasty.

Myron is the newly elected president of the 4,000-member World Clown Association, and Carol won the association's Clown of the Year Award - the first time a husband and wife have held the positions concurrently.It is welcome recognition for a couple whose lives have been consumed by squirting flowers and balloon animals for the past 12 years, whose walls and shelves at home are overflowing with clown paintings, dolls and figurines.

"As a matter of fact I tell everyone there's five people that live in this house (counting their clown characters) . . . and they all have their share of the bedroom, too. There's wigs and shoes and make-up and costumes," Carol said.

That isn't all. The Jacksons have a big, red rubber nose on the front of their car and have turned one room of their West Valley home into a sort of way station for clowns passing through the state.

Carol, who is 62, and Myron, 65, have made clowning a family affair that spans three generations. Their daughter, Debra Maple, 42, - known as "OE" - and granddaughters Shanda, 19, and Kristy, 17 - known as "Oops" and "Uh-oh" - have all donned the baggy pants and face paint.

"We love doing it," Carol said. "We love doing it as a family and our youngest granddaughter says that's how we all bond."

"I think our family will always be in clowning. If they're not actually clowning, they'll be supporting the other members," said Maple, who is the association's Southwestern United States regional director.

"They really dovetail each other, which is what a partnership is all about," said Pat Wertenberger, administrator of the World Clown Association. "They're really respected for all their endeavors."

Carol has created two award-winning clown characters: "Hiccup," who wears a rainbow wig and is unable to shake a severe case of the hiccups, and a down-on-his-luck hobo called "Twitch," who munches on graham crackers disguised as dog treats.

"Nobody knew me until I opened my big mouth," she said. "My voice gives me away. Nobody would guess I'm a woman dressed like this."

Myron's character, "Softy," is "developed from his personality," Carol says. "He's just an old softy."

Myron says he tries to "live for the moment," when he's in character. "You just build off of and play off of an everyday situation."

The couple refuses to be paid to clown. Instead, they've contributed hundreds of hours raising money for charitable causes like Sudden Infant Death Syndrome and muscular dystrophy.

"We do it for the enjoyment and to get people to laugh," Carol said.

It's a reflection of the "clowning for laughter's sake" attitude that first attracted Carol to clowning. She and Myron, who was a Chief Master Sergeant in the Air Force, were stationed in Hawaii in 1970 after Myron's first tour of duty in Vietnam. Carol was working with a medevac unit caring for GIs who had been horribly wounded.

"A troupe of clowns came in one night and entertained," she said. "It just thrilled me to see that these clowns could get these GIs to laugh and joke and cut up, and I decided that someday I'd be a clown."

Nearly 17 years passed, though, before the Jacksons enrolled in courses in "clownology" at the University of Utah and then, as they put it, "furthered our clown education" by receiving diplomas from Clown Camp at the University of Wisconsin at LaCrosse.

And it took nearly four more years to convince Myron, who had retired from the Air Force and works for Steiner Corp., to don the makeup, although he remained active in clown activities.

For example, Carol said, he'd drive clowns to various functions. They'd pull up with Myron behind the wheel looking a little out of place as a carload of clowns in full costume piled out. Finally, he caved in one day at a clown convention.

"Actually, I was coerced into it by all the instructors," Myron said. "I never really had a desire to put it on. I just didn't feel like I'd be qualified to make people laugh in that way, and then when I put it on, it just felt natural."

Carol says natural clowns make the best clowns.

"It's something that comes from the inside. Putting on makeup doesn't make a clown, or putting a costume on doesn't make a clown. It's something you have to want to do," she said. "Clowning can be very hard work . . . but anything I've ever given to my clowning, I've received back many times over."

They say their most rewarding moment came while they were at a grocery store selling red noses and buttons to raise money for Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

"This lady came up and she bought one of each and then she just burst into tears," Myron said. "We went over and visited her for a minute and she said she had had twins and one of the twins had just died recently."

They said the incident made them realize the importance of the charity work they do.

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In the coming year, Myron will be responsible for running an organization that has members in every state and 25 foreign countries - clowns who are professors, principals, firefighters and nuns in their professional lives.

Carol was the association's president in 1995 and balanced the organization's budget, which had been running a deficit for years. Myron knows he'll have to work hard to follow in her 3-foot-long footprints.

Even though they got a late start in clowning, they don't plan to give up the rainbow wigs and squirting flowers anytime soon.

"Clowning has no age. When someone's all made up, you can't tell if they're young or old or whatever," she said. "As long as we can make people smile and laugh and forget their problems, that's how long we plan on doing it."

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