A TRAP SET FOR ME—I CATCH THE TRAPPERS—I BECOME PROPRIETOR OF THE AMERICAN MUSEUM—HISTORY OF THE ESTABLISHMENT—HARD WORK AND COLD DINNERS—ADDITIONS TO THE MUSEUM—EXTRAORDINARY ADVERTISING—BARNUM’S BRICK-MAN—EXCITING PUBLIC CURIOSITY—INCIDENTS AND ANECDOTES—A DRUNKEN ACTOR—IMITATIONS OF THE ELDER BOOTH—PLEASING MY PATRONS—SECURING TRANSIENT NOVELTIES—LIVING CURIOSITIES—MAKING PEOPLE TALK—A WILDERNESS OF WONDERS—NIAGARA FALLS WITH REAL WATER—THE CLUB THAT KILLED COOK—SELLING LOUIS GAYLORD CLARK—THE FISH WITH LEGS—THE FEJEE MERMAID—HOW IT CAME INTO MY POSSESSION—THE TRUE STORY OF THAT CURIOSITY—JAPANESE MANUFACTURE OF FABULOUS ANIMALS—THE USE I MADE OF THE MERMAID—WHOLESALE ADVERTISING AGAIN—THE BALCONY BAND—DRUMMOND LIGHTS.
MY newspaper squib war against the Peale combination was vigorously kept up; when one morning, about the first of December, I received a letter from the Secretary of that company (now calling itself the “New York Museum Company,”) requesting me to meet the directors at the Museum on the following Monday morning. I went, and found the directors in session. The venerable president of the board, who was also the ex-president of a broken bank, blandly proposed to hire me to manage the united museums, and though I saw that he merely meant to buy my silence, I professed to entertain the proposition, and in reply to an inquiry as to what salary I should expect, I specified the sum of $3,000 a year. This was at once acceded to, the salary to begin January 1, 1842, and after complimenting me on my ability, the president remarked: “Of course, Mr. Barnum, we shall have no more of your squibs through the newspapers”—to which I replied that I should “ever try to serve the interests of my employers,” and I took my leave.
It was as clear to me as noonday that after buying my silence so as to appreciate their stock, these directors meant to sell out to whom they could, leaving me to look to future stockholders for my salary. They thought, no doubt, that they had nicely entrapped me, but I knew I had caught them.
For, supposing me to be out of the way, and having no other rival purchaser, these directors postponed the advertisement of their stock to give people time to forget the attacks I had made on it, and they also took their own time for paying the money promised to Mr. Heath, December 26th—indeed, they did not even call on him at the appointed time. But on the following morning, as agreed, I was promptly and hopefully at Mr. Olmstead’s apartments with my legal adviser, at half-past nine o’clock; Mr. Heath came with his lawyer at ten, and before two o’clock that day I was in formal possession of the American Museum. My first managerial act was to write and despatch the following complimentary note:
American Museum, New York, Dec. 27, 1841.
To the President and Directors of the New York Museum:
Gentlemen:—It gives me great pleasure to inform you that you are placed upon the Free List of this establishment until further notice.
P. T. Barnum, Proprietor.
It is unnecessary to say that the “President of the New York Museum” was astounded, and when he called upon Mr. Heath, and learned that I had bought and was really in possession of the American Museum, he was indignant. He talked of prosecution, and demanded the $1,000 paid on his agreement, but he did not prosecute, and he justly forfeited his deposit money.
And now that I was proprietor and manager of the American Museum I had reached a new epoch in my career which I felt was the beginning of better days, though the full significance of this important step I did not see. I was still in the show business, but in a settled, substantial phase of it, that invited industry and enterprise, and called for ever earnest and ever heroic endeavor. Whether I should sink or swim depended wholly upon my own energy. I must pay for the establishment within a stipulated time, or forfeit it with whatever I had paid on account. I meant to make it my own, and brains, hands and every effort were devoted to the interests of the Museum.