On the Road With a Circus

by William Carter Thompson

The harness and blacksmith tents are as complete in their facilities as any stationary establishments. In the former, waxed thread, needle and hammer are busy through the day. The showy equine accoutrements and trappings require constant care, and among the tangled mass of collars, traces, saddles, reins and other framework of straps there is always labor of repair. The blast-furnace of the blacksmith blazes from morning until night, and his anvil knows no rest. There are horses to be shod, iron pieces to be forged, wagons needing attention, and a variety of work which must be done with dispatch and thoroughness.

Across the field in a shady and sheltered spot the ashen cloth of the circus barber shop shows. No detail of a well-equipped city shop is missing. Even is seen the pole, striped red and white spirally, denoting the presence of the profession. Here the men of the circus are shaved and have their beards trimmed and their hair cut and dressed with great expedition and much perfume. It is a time-saving convenience.

CIRCUS COOKS PREPARING BREAKFAST.

The whir of sewing machines is never absent from the wardrobe tent, and seamstresses work with needle and thread from light to dark. Wear and weather work sad havoc with resplendent uniforms and trappings of human and brute, and the need of repair or replenishment is always pressing.

Cages are thrust under the menagerie tent only long enough for the feeding of the animals, and a hasty burnishing of gilt and cleaning of wagon wheel and body. Horses reappear soon, now plumed and ornamented, and drivers don the uniform of the parade. This tent, like its big canvas companion, will be empty and silent, save for the arranging of apparatus, until the parade returns from its formal journey to town.

In the stable tents the Shetland ponies delight the children and command the admiration of the elders. They come from the wild and sterile islands between the Atlantic Ocean and the North Sea, where they run at large. They are very hardy, and their strength is great in proportion to their size. Rough hair covers them, and their manes and forelocks are large and shaggy. Very useful in active, sure-footed work, and very valuable to the show from an artistic standpoint, are these small breeds of horses, but also are they very vicious and tricky. They bite and kick at small or no provocation, at keepers and strangers alike, and frequently engage in violent combat among themselves. They are the subjects of eternal espionage, but human vigilance cannot always thwart their mischief. The dun or tan color, with a black stripe along the back, is prevalent among their shades, and they compose one of the prettiest scenes on the circus lot. The tricks they perform in the ring always meet enthusiastic favor.

In the Southern States, “snack stands” line the limits of the circus lot. Colored people conduct them, and the food they provide is wholesome and wonderful in variety. No Northerner who has not witnessed circus day in the old Confederate section has any adequate conception of the extent to which these eating places flourish. The appetizing odor of food pervades the air, patrons are filled with the exuberance of the occasion, and the scene is one to add a measure to the joy of living. No dish often has a price exceeding five cents, and the ham and chicken and cakes and biscuits served have a peculiar charm of flavor, which sometimes even lures the showman from the canopied canvas of the “cook tent.”

Applicants to join the circus come by the score in every town. There are few changes in the ranks, however, during the season, except in the cases of canvasmen and hostlers. These desert, are discharged or find other places frequently. After a spell of rainy weather, never more wearing on man and beast than with the circus, the less stout-hearted or robust leave rapidly for easier work. All the performers contract for the season or longer, and are philosophic and satisfied at all times. Sometimes the eager candidate for circus honors is awaiting us at the railroad station, follows to the lot, and often no rebuff or decided denial of his demand for a position will suffice. This persistent person we turn over to the head clown and watch the cure. He is escorted with great deference to the dressing-room, received by the performers with keen anticipatory delight and ostentatiously welcomed to their ranks. It is explained that he must begin his career as a laugh-provoker. His hair is filled with powdered sawdust, he is daubed with chalk and dye-stuffs, put in tights and ordered to the ring. There the ringmaster, prepared to do his part, awaits him. The luckless victim feels the sharp lash of the whip on his almost naked legs, and is put through a course of sprouts which finally drives him from the arena, a sorry fun-producing specimen. Desire for sawdust and spangles has left him.

An awkward problem which sometimes presents itself is the replenishing of the horse stables. No stauncher troupe of draft horses can be found anywhere than the circus carries. Great strength is a prime requisite, but they must needs be handsome, handy and gentle. These qualifications are not frequently grouped in one animal. So it is that great care is lavished upon the circus equine that his condition remain all that is necessary. Despite all attention of the practised men of the stables, however, sickness and accidents often send the beasts to the stock farm or the graveyard. Facilities for their treatment in wet weather are inadequate, notwithstanding an expert veterinary always is in attendance upon them, and is on the regular pay roll. The strain of sleeping in a moving train of cars at night and heavy hauling at day is tremendous, and strange, rough roads invite misfortune. Ailing animals cannot be transported, and replacing begins.