In the Great Depression, circuses criss-crossed America. Their alumni included movie star Burt Lancaster, an acrobat, and the great dancer Donald O’Connor, who once told The News about how he had swung through Buffalo in the 1930s as a hand balancer.

Circuses have changed a lot since then and the UniverSoul Circus is part of that modern updating — and proving, at the same time, that not a lot needs to change.

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The UniverSoul Circus

At the University at Buffalo South Campus parking lot ; 10:30 a.m. and 7:30 p.m. Thursday and Friday; noon, 4 and 7:30 p.m. next Saturday; and 3:30 and 6:30 p.m. July 10. Tickets are $16.50 to $35 , through Ticketmaster, 745-3000.

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It bills itself, with pride, as the world’s only African-American-owned circus. Funk and hip-hop are part of the act.

But just as when Burt Lancaster was doing flips, the circus rolls from town to town, pitching its tent and going on with the show. With its elaborate daredevil acts, it thrives in our hardscrabble economy, ranking as one of Ticketmaster’s top 10 family attractions nationwide.

Thursday, the UniverSoul Circus sets up its big top on UB’s South Campus on Main Street at Bailey.

A chat with Zanda “Zeke” Charles, the ringmaster’s sidekick, shows that the old circus spirit is alive and well.

Zeke is reached by phone in his hometown of Cleveland, where the circus is starting a five-day run.

Hey, no worries. It’s a thrill to witness backstage circus life. After all, this is the people’s entertainment, common to all cultures, all continents.

“Maybe even in Antarctica they got circuses,” cracks Zeke, who has no time for philosophizing. “They got to entertain themselves down there somehow.”

‘It’s in my blood’

Buffalo was a last-minute addition to the circus’ route. There was a gap between Euclid, Ohio and Indianapolis, Ind.

“We work 11 months a year, 500 shows a year,” Zeke says.

Once, the schedule got to him. “After 16, 17 years I wanted to see if there something else out there that I wanted to experience,” he says. He also wanted to see his home. “I had a house built outside of Cleveland.”

So he took a sabbatical. Fans clamored for his return. Now he’s back, teamed up again with dapper ringmaster Tony Tone.

“It’s in my blood,” he declares. “After 18 years, I don’t know what else I would want to do. This is it. To see an 80-year-old woman smiling, and next to her a grandchild, and then a 40-, 50-year-old person, all smiling, it’s priceless. We’ve got two, three, four generations that come. Some kids, I first saw them when they were 7, 8, 9, 10. Then I get to meet their kids.”

Zeke, a former deejay, has been with the circus since its start in Atlanta 18 years ago.

“Me being short of stature, I was the center of attention anyway,” he laughs. “Now I get to be center stage for being the center of attention.”

His mother cheered him on.

“It was her pride and joy to see her son front and center, getting smiles out of old folks, watching the kids slap him five, things of that nature,” he says.

Snagged by a tiger

Circus life can be rough, and the UniverSoul Circus has known its challenges. The animal rights group PETA has a fact sheet on the troupe. It reports that Olivia Newton-John called on the UniverSoul Circus to end its kangaroo boxing act, and ape expert Jane Goodall objected to its chimps.

But the show will go on. Zeke suggests it goes on smoothly.

The UniverSoul Circus’ big top travels by truck. The performers mostly ride on buses.

“It’s a big party,” Zeke says. “Most of the time we’re resting, ’cause we leave on a Monday, headed to the next city. You get the clique you hang with, the best friends, the buddies. Sometimes you need to be by yourself. You get your outgoing people, your quiet people.”

Some performers travel with their families. He does not.

“Just myself, and I got a little pet dog, Pepper,” he says. “She was born in the circus. Our costume lady, her dog had four puppies. So I took one.”

Zeke treats the larger animals with respect.

“You keep your distance from the lions, or you become a main course with them!” he laughs. “They know the trainer, but they don’t know me. With the tigers, I had a learning experience. I got too close to the cage, and my jacket got a little snagged.

“Just like the elephants, when you see them coming, you get out of the way. There’s 10,000 pounds coming at you. It’s common sense.”

He reckons he recalls every performer who has ever worked with the circus. Mention that in 2003, in Martin Luther King Park, there was a performer who slid on his head, and —

“That was Country,” he says.

Country, a hip-hop dancer, has moved on. “We have to keep switching it around,” Zeke says. “That comes with the package. We have certain people who come yearly. You have to keep it fresh and new. At the same time, you have to do traditional stuff people want to see. You need elephants. Certain things you don’t take away.”

Audience participation numbers include a Soul Train line and sing-alongs based on “The Jeffersons” and “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.”

But like circuses of the past, this one knows no borders. Current acts include “the enchanting Rahel of Ethiopia,” a contortionist; trapeze artists billed as the Russian Swing Act; and the Modern Biker Girls, Chinese bicycle daredevils.

“Soul is not a color. It’s an experience,” Zeke stresses. “You can take this to any country, any city. People are the same.”

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