On the Road With a Circus

by William Carter Thompson

“There is always a feature upon which the side-show revolves, either a giant or some other wonderful freak of nature, and it always occupies a high platform in the centre of the canvas. The other stages are arranged in horseshoe shape, and upon these the different curios are seated. All side-shows have a snake enchantress, this being an attraction that never fails to please, and the rural visitor stands open-mouthed, with a look of astonishment as the lady lifts these large serpents one by one from their boxes and allows them to coil about her person. She is supposed to answer all questions put to her regarding the reptiles, and is asked many strange ones, such as ‘Do you keep them on ice?’ ‘How do you feed them?’ ‘Are they stuffed?’ ‘Did you catch them yourself?’ As experience has made her quick-witted, she is ever ready with a reply. The other curios are generally a midget, a long-haired lady, or a tattooed man.

“Few would be considered complete without a mind reader or fortune teller, who by merely tracing the lines of the hand is able to foretell the future. So, when Mary and John stand before her, the lines of Mary’s hand always read that John is the favored suitor and is to be her husband, while those in John’s hand plainly indicate that Mary is for him alone, and that their union will be blessed with many little ones; which good news sends them giggling and blushing on their way, thoroughly satisfied at having parted with their money, as it has brought them such good results. All curios have the privilege of selling their photos, which is really a part of their revenue, and many a stray dime is coaxed from the pockets of the country visitor to that of the curio who is collecting a ‘pork chop fund’ for the winter. The initiated photo-seller knows which States will be the most productive. This calls to mind a remark made by a giant while on a trip through Canada. One day after a fruitless endeavor to foist his photos on the public, he demanded:

“‘How long here? Me want to go back to Yankee-land.’

“Thus he proved that the Yankees part with their dimes more readily than the Canucks.

“In order to fill the side-show with small circuses there is always a candy stand, and whenever there is a lull in the proceedings the voice of the candy ‘butcher’ may be heard calling his wares in this manner: ‘Strawberry lemonade, ice cold, is five cents to-day. Lemonade, peanuts, cakes, candies, everything is five cents.’

“The space not taken up by stages is usually occupied by slot machines, and many a stray nickel is dropped into them during the day. The lecturer, after going the rounds and giving a detailed description of each curio, concludes the performance with Punch and Judy, which, though the oldest attraction before the public, is always a source of amusement for the little folks, and even the grown folks laugh and cheer as if they had never seen it before. This being finished, the reed manipulator steps from behind the frame and explains to the gaping multitude how easily any one can do the same with the aid of a reed made by himself of silver and silk and ‘only costing ten cents.’ Children and grown folks alike, in their eagerness to obtain one, push and almost knock one another down, and within a few seconds old and young alike have them in their mouths trying to say ‘Oh! Judy, go get the baby.’ The side-show has been likened to a church fair, there being something doing every time one turns around.

BAREBACK RIDERS READY FOR THE RING.

“The band is always placed upon a high platform directly behind the entrance, so that only a thin canvas separates it from the outside public. This is done in order that its noise may be easily heard by the passing visitors, whom the ticket sellers are always trying to entice to part with their dimes to see the many wonders exhibited within. This band stage is also used for the minstrel and vaudeville performances which are given as frequently as the occasion demands. The side-show may be justly termed a continuous performance, as there is always something going on to entertain the visitors, who are continually dropping in. When the eloquence of the orators fails to arouse the many hangers-on who have become listless, a curiosity is occasionally brought out upon the ‘bally-hoo stage,’ and the huge triangle is struck upon to stir up those who are still wavering. There is no let-up until all the people have left the big show and concert. There is then an opportunity for these hard-worked people to eat supper and get a rest until 6:30, when the side-show is again opened and remains in operation until the big show is over, about ten p.m.”

Hassan Ali, the Egyptian giant, eight feet two inches tall (one has the orator’s word for it), comes each year from the land of his nativity to arouse American wonder and earn American money. He is the pest of hotel keepers on the route, for on Sunday nights he chooses to pass the time for slumber away from the cramped recesses of the circus car and in the regulation bedstead of commerce. The view of Hassan, dreaming of his far-off home, with his brown legs protruding, from the knees down, over the foot-board and his skull rammed against the headpiece, is a sight people flock from all parts of the house to witness. About midnight, generally, there is a noise like an explosion, a rattle, crash and shimmer. The other circus guests turn over and resume sleep; they know the familiar sound, it is the shattering of the giant’s bed. The landlord, hurrying to the apartment, finds Hassan on the floor, enveloped in slats, sheets, counterpane and mattress. This is almost a weekly performance and causes Hassan to breathe awful Egyptian imprecations against modern American furniture. No visitor to the side-show has ever approached him in height, and only one person, an aged man wearing a G. A. R. badge, has been able to seize, by standing on a chair, the photograph guaranteeing circus admission which the giant holding between upraised fingers and resting on the floor is accustomed to offer as a reward for the feat. Hassan was much mortified over the veteran’s accomplishment, but finds balm in the consciousness that no one else has duplicated the achievement. His favorite exploit is to spread his extended fingers from edge to edge of the top of an ordinary waterpail. If you think it a simple digital trick, try it.