THE SIDE SHOW SPIELER SPEAKS.
The Side Show Spieler was a tall dark man with a sad face. He was clean shaven, wore his hair slightly long and looked like William Jennings Bryan, after the vote was in and counted and the telegraph operators had gone home. He had a deep baritone voice and a vocabulary that was always It. The Spieler carried more education than any man on the pay-roll and it was said that he was the only man in the outfit that could read the Latin names on the animal cages. It was generally supposed that he was one of the better days’ boys, but he never told the story of his past life to any of the gang.
It had started to rain just after the afternoon performance, and as it was the night to strike and haul, the six squatters on the ring bank were silent and sore. The Spieler came in from the menagerie and joined the layout. He never sat down, so he stood for a while in front of the others. No one spoke and he let a little conversation hit the air.
“What’s the matter with you fellows? Sore ’cause it is raining! Don’t see why, you all are under cover. I’ve got to stand out there in front of the tent and talk for dimes.”
“Yes,” said the Boss Canvasman, “and I’ve got this tent to roll up an’ load.
“Well be happy, be happy,” said the Spieler. Then after a pause. “Say, you fellows can help me out a little. The Boss gives me a talk last night, and says while the spiel for the little show is all right and good he wants a new one for the big stands we strikes next week. I’ve been digging up the old talk I used to tear off on the Midway at the Chicago Show and I’ve about studied her out, if youse don’t care I’ll just unroll here an’ see if its the proper josh.”
There was no objection, so the Spieler mounts one of the red painted stools, the object holders stand on for the little lady to jump the banners. Then he serves his spiel:
“And now good people if you will kindly give me your attention for a few moments I will explain to you the great congress of freaks, oddities of mother nature and strange and curious collection of wonders shown in the tent. Remember you have plenty of time, the Big Show does not commence for fully harf an hour. Surely you will not leave the lot until you have seen all—all good people—all provided for you in this monster entertainment, this caravan of canvas covered world sought wonders. Come a little closer. Please. Thank you. First, let me call your attention to a remarkable group of reindeer. We have not one—three—five—or six of these specimens of the animal kingdom, but a whole herd of them—a herd of them—a herd of reindeer from the land of the midnight sun, where there is but one night, one day—reindeers, my friends, from the icy mountains of far away Norway the greatest group ever exhibited in any colossal enterprise that has ever been organized by mortal man.
“Next you will find the ostrich farm. This strange bird that furnishes plumage for me ladies’ bonnet, and that comes from the sunny sands of Africa. And remember the cool of the evening is the best time to see the ostriches, for it is then you may notice their marked pe-cu-li-ar-i-ties. Listen, good people, reindeer and ostriches—reindeer from the frozen north—ostriches from torrid Africa—specimens from each zone, the most astounding representation of nature’s wonderland ever shown. Reindeer and ostriches—as the poet says:
“From Greenland’s icy mountains
From Afric’s coral strand
Where them crystal waters
Run down the heathen land.
“And all for a dime, ten cents, will you hesitate? but wait, good people, that is not all. The wonder of wonders is yet to come—Bobo—he eats ’em alive, he eats ’em alive. You must see Bobo. This strange and curious specimen of humanity who exists upon poisonous reptiles, captured in the jungles of the Tasmanian blue gum tree and brought to civilized America, he still lives on snakes—Bobo, the snake eater—Bobo, he eats ’em alive, he eats ’em alive.
“One moment, good people, one moment—this is not all. Listen—Wild Rose—the half girl and half dog. This remarkable freak of nature that has puzzled the scientists of two continents. Queen Mary, the largest fat woman ever shown under canvas or in hall of curios, the marvelous Samson, the giant of today, who bears upon his breast great rocks to be broken with a sledge, and last but not least—Professor Corello and his troupe of performing roaches, the only attempt ever made to develop the hitherto unknown powers of these insects. The greatest, most interesting and educating avalanche of remarkable freaks and strange and curious people ever shown. And all for a dime, two nickels, good people—a dime, but a dime. The performance is about to begin—one dime—the sight of an invested fortune, the greatest stroke of genius of the modern showman—yours for a dime.”
The Spieler took a long breath and then looked at his audience.
“How’s that,” he asked, “how’s that for a furnace talk?”
“It’s all right, Cap,” said the Concert Manager; “it’ll bring ’em.”
“Say,” said the Boss Canvasman, “how do you keep that voice of yours shoutin’ all the time?”
“Boozin’, boozin’ up,” said the Spieler, “boozin’ up.”