The Wright Brothers

by Fred C. Kelly

Though he had never thought of giving a circus, the Johnston lad caught the idea and soon was enthusiastic. They then decided to take in Orville’s friend, Harry Morrow, as a third partner. Their show would be known as The Great W. J. & M. Circus.

As the date for the big show approached, sixteen-year-old Wilbur Wright, who had been taking great interest in the preparations, asked Orville what he had done about advance notices in the newspapers. Orville had to admit that he had done nothing.

Wilbur appeared to be shocked that no one had taken steps fully to prepare the public mind for the coming event, and offered to write a suitable reading notice about the street parade. This, he said, should be placed in the Richmond Evening Item. He had absorbed the method of expression used in circus bills and his forecast of the parade was a masterpiece. There was nothing amateurish about the way he introduced such words as “mammoth,” “colossal,” and “stupendous,” nor about his use of impressively large figures—“thousands of strange birds from all parts of the world” that would positively be in the menagerie. It was announced that the proprietors of the big show would personally lead the parade on “iron horses”; and that Davy Crockett would positively appear with a grizzly bear. At the end of the notice, in professional manner, was the exact route of the parade, that the populace might not miss the great free exhibition of wonders. The notice also gave the prices of admission to the big show—three cents for children under three years; others, five cents. Wilbur gave the piece of publicity to Orville to take to the Item office.

There was a little box just inside a door to a stairway leading to the editorial rooms, and the boys knew it was intended for news items. But they walked up and down the street in front of the newspaper office for a long time before they had the courage to enter the stairway. What if someone should see them! Finally, when they thought no one was looking, one of them ran up to the box and in desperate haste deposited their piece of publicity. Then both ran up the street at a speed that could have attracted attention.

The editor of the Item evidently had a good news sense and recognized the mysterious “press release” as a local item worth printing. He had no way of knowing who “W. J. & M.” were, but felt sure the account of that forthcoming parade had plenty of reader interest. It came about, therefore, that Wilbur’s advance notice had a prominent position in the Item of September 10, 1883, under a heading that asked: “What Are the Boys Up To?”

Though some of Wilbur’s figures about the number of rare birds and wild animals may have been a bit overdrawn, to conform to circus bill standards, he had not exaggerated the amazing nature of the parade. Two of the proprietors, Wright and Johnston, actually appeared at the head of the parade on their “iron horses.” These were high-wheel bicycles, one of them having wooden spokes. The third associate proprietor of the big show, Harry Morrow, was unavoidably absent, because his parents had gone on a vacation trip to Michigan, and had insisted, much against his wishes, on taking him with them.

A principal “parade wagon” was the running gear of an old buggy, with no body but only a few planks to make a platform on which were some of the “thousands of rare birds,” and also the great, frightful grizzly bear held in leash by Davy Crockett. Though no horses were hitched to this “wagon,” plenty of boys had volunteered their services as “slaves” to pull it through the streets. At the last minute, “Corky” Johnston, nine-year-old brother of one of the proprietors, got into a fight with the circus bosses, and they felt compelled to deny him the privilege of participating in the parade. This created a problem, for he had been cast for the role of Davy Crockett, wearing his father’s hunting togs, including high boots. The circus chiefs got around that, the best they could, by assigning the Davy Crockett part to Corky’s younger brother, Griswold, not yet five years old. He was almost overwhelmed by the hunting suit; but in the rush of getting the parade started he was the best Davy Crockett available.

Wilbur’s advance notice was more successful than he had hoped for. It had aroused so much curiosity that when the parade reached that part of the announced line of march in the business section, the streets were lined with people—almost as many, in fact, as if the circus had been Barnum’s.

Messrs. W. & J., astounded by the unexpected attention the parade was attracting, began to feel much too conspicuous. They hastily decided that their route must be changed, and the parade turned up an alley!

So many customers came that not all who clamored for admission to the Johnston barn could be accommodated, and it was decided to repeat the show. But while those who got into the barn were viewing the “menagerie,” the boy who had been denied the privilege of appearing as Davy Crockett saw an opportunity to get his revenge. He got up on the barn roof and addressed the multitude, telling them they might as well disperse and seek their homes, because, he said, there would be no other performance.