Reminiscences of a Showman

In this article Mr. Cooke details the history of one of the most important events in showdom, viz., the exclusion of the Barnum show from Madison Square Garden, in New York, by the Forepaugh forces. He also gives an account of the remarkable triumph which Buffalo Bill achieved at the garden, describing the difficulties which were overcome in producing the wonderful spectacle, "The Great Drama of Civilization." The terms by which peace was formally declared between Barnum and Forepaugh, and the two shows united in a great performance in New York, are vividly outlined in a narrative full of interest to the average reader.

Next week Mr. Cooke will narrate his experiences with the Forepaugh show, taking pains to paint intimate pen pictures of the two great Adam Forepaughs - father and son.

Taking up my story in regular sequence, during the season of 1884 Mr. Cole informed me that he would probably retire his show the following year. He had already acquired a fair share of this world's goods through hard work and close attention to business. As he had made many satisfactory deals in real estate and his capital was well placed, he thought of going abroad for a little vacation. Adam Forepaugh had made me several very flattering offers for my services, and as Mr. Cole thought it best under the circumstances that I should accept, I did so, although I had often met Mr. Forepaugh in spirited competition and opposition.

My engagement with the now show began at the close of the season, just after the famous "White Elephant War" that had been so disastrous to the big concerns because of the extraordinary expense of the fight as well as its demoralizing effect upon the confidence of the amusement loving public.

It devolved upon me as general agent to overcome many evil conditions. It was my duty to reduce the expenses of operation while keeping up the high standard of the show, and if possible to create and devise new ideas in both the performance and advertising lines. The competition between Forepaugh and the Barnum, Bailey & Hutchinson shows was terrific. Extraordinary salaries were offered and paid for agents, performers and everything else that might possibly be of advantage to either concern. Heated arguments often arose. Hostile sentiment prevailed. Fabulous prices were demanded and paid. Rivalry ran rampant with close opposition at nearly every exhibition stand.

My first season with Mr. Forepaugh did not call for any immediate contact, as we routed our show principally in the West and the Barnum outfit remained in the East. This gave me an insight into the operation of both concerns. It was plain to see that nothing farther was required than to use a little diplomacy, and adopt some new methods without entering into wordy warfare or jeopardizing the financial or artistic position of either party.

Up to this time Barnum, & Bailey would not, or did not recognize the Philadelphia showman as a strong competitor, notwithstanding the fact that Mr. Forepaugh handled his aggregation as an individual owner, relied upon his standing with the public and was ambitious not only to have a show equal to any in existence, but, as he expressed It to "get even with Barnum & Bailey."

James A. Bailey, of whom I shall write extensively later on was a prime factor in the show business at that time as in all his later years, but overwork caused a breakdown and he retired at the end of the season, selling his interest in the Barnum show to my old friend, W. W. Cole, J. L. Hutchinson and J. R. Cooper. This put a new phase on the situation, and the next season I commenced to lay a new line of procedure, realizing that the Barnum show was now handled in a cautious and conservative manner.

Among other things I investigated the possibility of securing Madison Square Garden in New York, which was then recognized as the Barnum stronghold for spring exhibition purposes in New York and gave them a valuable prestige throughout the country.

I discovered that the only way to secure the property was to take a six months lease. As I had every reason to believe that the Barnum people would not consider any such proposition for their show, I so reported to Mr. Forepaugh, who advised me to take the lease if possible, and armed with several $1,000 bills. I returned to New York, determined to close the contract for the garden before I left the city or gave any one a chance to communicate with the Barnum people.

When I announced my desire to Alfred Skitt, who was then looking after the Vanderbilt interests and managing the garden property for them, he graciously intimated that it was hardly fair to lease the property to Mr. Forepaugh for his circus before offering the same proposition to the Barnum management, inasmuch as they had been regular occupants of the garden for many years.

I consented to this on condition that he would permit me to dictate the telegram, to which he agreed.

While awaiting the reply, I said to him, "You might as well draw up the lease in the meantime. I am anxious to close the deal and get back to Boston tonight, as Mr. Forepaugh is there with his show awaiting my return."

The telegram which presently came from Messrs. Cole and Hutchinson was to the effect that as they were not in the real estate business, they did not care to take a long lease on any property.

When I returned to Mr. Skitt's office to sign the lease, he had it all written up in accordance with our agreement and showed me the telegram which ended the controversy. Upon signing the lease, I handed him five $1,000 bills to make the bargain conclusive.

News of this transaction, being somewhat important, was turned over to the Associated Press and one can well imagine the consternation in the Barnum camp when they took up the newspapers the next morning. Mr. Barnum was In Bridgeport, and Messrs. Cole, Hutchinson and Cooper were with their show in Rock Island, Ill., as I learned through some very humorous conversation with Mr. Hutchinson later on.

After receiving some very warm telegrams from Mr. Barnum, these gentlemen held a consultation, but could not take the situation seriously. Mr. Cole quietly remarked that there must be some mistake about it, intimating that in all probability this was "one of Cooke's newspaper stories," as the report asserted that I had secured the garden for Forepaugh and would open the next spring season with a bigger and better show than New York had ever seen before.

Barnum insisted upon his partners meeting him in New York for a consultation. No time was lost in taking the fastest train. Mr. Hutchinson told me afterwards that I was about the only man in the show business that had ever caused him to lose a night's sleep and that when he and Mr. Cole met Barnum, they were in a quandary as to just what to say.

They found that the lease of the garden to Forepaugh was in full effect, whereupon Mr. Barnum In his sharp, piping voice wanted to know:

"Who is this man, Cooke? Where did he come from?"

"Oh," replied Mr. Cole, "he is an active, young fellow, an old agent of mine."

"Well," concluded Barnum, "you ought never to have let him get away from you. He's a darned smart agent."

I consider this one of my greatest compliments.

Mr. Forepaugh was of course delighted beyond measure. When I first laid all the facts and conditions before him, he was so anxious to gain possession of the garden and "beat Barnum" that he insisted upon my going back to New York by the first train, realizing that it would not [do?] to let anyone get an inkling of our intentions.

Upon my departure, I cautioned him not to drop a word or sign to anyone about the show until I wired him as to whether I was successful or not. During the day he was particularly nervous and in great glee as I was told by our treasurer and other officials. Several times he walked over to the ticket wagon or accosted some of his closer friends with the laughing remark, "Something awful is going to happen."

When asked as to his meaning, he replied, "I don't dare to tell you. I am afraid it will kill some folks." Before nightfall, upon receipt of my telegram that Madison Square Garden was ours and that I would meet him in the morning, he rushed to the ticket wagon and showed the message, exclaiming, "There, now, what did I tell you? I'm afraid it will kill Barnum."

With the events that followed many people of the present day are familiar, but to make the history perfectly clear to the reader I will state that I was at something of a loss to know just what to do with the garden for the ensuing six months and to make it pay up to the time we were to occupy it with the circus in the spring.

Upon reflection and in casting about for something extraordinary it occurred to me that the Buffalo Bill Wild West, then playing at "Erastina," on Staten Island, and which had been my beaux ideal since I saw its first performance at Omaha, Neb., in May, 1883, was exactly what was required. I at once began to evolve some plan whereby it might be presented in a more compact form in a building during the winter months. With vague ideas for such an entertainment, I called upon my old friends, Colonel Cody and Nate Salsbury, the Wild West managers, with a suggestion that we work out a new show for the garden. Buffalo Bill was every enthusiastic over the project, but Salsbury did not seem to think that we could retain the dash and abandon of the show in the confines of a building, and asked me to give them a more definite outline of my plan.

I spent that evening in camp at Erastina to review the performance and see what could be done. The first thought that struck me was never materially changed, except to improve the situations. My idea was to utilize every feature of the original Wild West, but to present it in a new form with scenic effects, representing the various epochs in American history.

Meeting the late Steele Mackey, who, like myself, was a visitor at the performance that night, and knowing the value of his vast experience as an author and dramatic producer, we submitted the proposition to him. Without a moment's hesitation he put his friendly hand upon my shoulder as he said:

"Great, my boy, great! Let's call it 'The Great Drama of Civilization'!"

"Yes, sir," I replied, "that's it. And you are the very man to stage the production."

"When do we open?" queried both Cody and Salsbury in a breath. Never mind the terms. Of course, they are a secondary matter when you and Mackey get to talking."

"Oh, any time you wish after my lease begins, and the terms will be fifty-fifty, when both parties are satisfied and know what they have to furnish."

"All right! Draw up your contract and give us your scenario."

Thus the deal was practically closed without any fuss or feathers.

On our way back to New York that night we grew somewhat enthusiastic and discussed different methods of procedure, it being understood that "Steele" and myself should outline a program and that as soon as I submitted the proposition to Mr. Forepaugh and received his permission to close a contract we would go ahead and complete the arrangements.

Who should I meet the next morning at the breakfast table In New York but my warm personal friend and one of the greatest artists that I have ever known, the famous Matt Morgan, who had just arrived from Cincinnati, where he had been engaged for years as the principal artist with the Strowbridge Lithograph Company. Matt Morgan was not only one of the best designers of show bills, but during his lifetime conceded to be the greatest scenic artist of the day.

Upon inquiry I found that he had just resigned his position with the lithograph company and was in New York to open a studio on his own account. I gave him a brief outline of what we had in view for the garden. He seemed to comprehend the situation and opportunity for great display at once and grew equally enthusiastic over the transaction. At my request he named a figure for his personal service in superintending the work and handling the artistic end of the proposition. In this I felt myself exceedingly fortunate and we immediately came to an understanding as to what we could do as soon as I would be able to close the contract.

Taking the first train to meet Mr. Forepaugh, who was still on the road with his show, I laid all of these plans to before him, going more into detail as to what could be done at the garden on a fair and equitable basis.

Mr. Forepaugh consented to the arrangement on condition that I keep our share of the expense below a figure which I named on the contract with the Wild West managers. It was also specified that when the weekly receipts fell below actual operating expenses for two consecutive weeks either party might cancel, upon giving a week's notice in writing.

These preliminaries over, actual work began. We had only six weeks to prepare for the production and could not take possession of the garden until three weeks before we had concluded to open. I commenced to purchase canvas by the wagon load so that Morgan could get his staff of artists started at once.

We secured the services of "Nelse" Waldron, the best stage carpenter of his time. It was he who built the much talked of double moving stage for Steele Mackey at the Madison Square Theatre. I then felt sure that we had at least three of the best men that could be secured in the line of literary, artistic and mechanical work. The results justified this conclusion.

In the development of the work the scenes were painted with a panoramic effect, that is, in a semi-circle, not only to give a greater depth of view, but to overcome the physical obstacles encountered in the garden, where there was no opportunity for a scene loft or any way to handle the canvasses which measured forty feet in height by 160 feet in length. We devised upright cones or rollers upon which to roll the canvass after it was hung in grooves overhead, which enabled us to run the scenes from right to left or vice versa, with a single trip drop for the front curtain. As there had never before been anything in the way of a scenic production at the garden we had untold problems and difficulties to overcome. It was necessary to cut through some of the solid walls; building temporary housings or lofts on the roof to carry the ropes and blocks to handle the heavy set pieces and move the panoramas in order to produce some of the storm and atmospheric effects which I will describe later. I had to dig trenches across Twenty-seventh street to get a connection with the steam plant in the old Stevens car shops so that we would be able to operate huge ventilating fans in the garden, as there was no steam plant in operation in the building at the time.

The scenes that were painted to cover the different epochs of American history began with the primeval forest, which was first disclosed when the curtain rose, showing the blue morning dawn in a dense forest, with the birds warbling in the trees and the sun gleaming gradually at the break of day. The first animal life to be seen was a head of real mountain elk which came bounding on the real turf that formed our stage, and these animals, as if imbued with the spirit of the occasion, would stop, look around surveying the scene, frequently plowing the earth with their horns and assuming natural playful attitudes, their eyes glistening in the artificial sunlight like diamonds, only to be disturbed by the pursuit of the naked savages wrapped in the skins of the animals which they had killed.

Following this introduction came the meeting of friendly tribes of red-skins in the wilderness, their greetings to be interrupted by hostiles from other tribes, who entered into hand-to-hand conflicts with the bow and arrow and other weapons used before firearms were invented.

We next saw the same forest cleared up with the home or cabin of the frontiersmen or settler in the foreground, while further back in full view was the pioneer sowing the seed with open hand and harrowing the ground with real cattle, horses and implements such as were used in the early days. This peaceful scenes was destroyed by sculking savages who swarmed from the underbush and attacked, killed or carried off their captives.

The next epoch showed the pioneers wending their way west across the plains with all the incidents of that time and period fully illustrated. The immigrant train was brought into play, the old stage coach and the sports and pastimes of the plains with which all who have visited the Buffalo Bill Show are quite familiar. This scene culminated with one of the most realistic prairie fires that has ever been artificially presented, where we saw a real stampede of horses, cattle, buffalo, elk and deers, scurrying across the plains. Then followed the Indian war dance, the frontier battle scenes, with appropriate surroundings.

The next epoch revealed the mining camps in the mountains, illustrating the methods of mining and the quarters of the United States troops who acted. as guards in those days. It was here that we introduced one of the most effective cyclones or hurricanes that has ever been staged; bringing into play the steam supplied from across the street for batteries of four six-foot exhaust fans such as are used in forcing air into mines and other deep excavations.

Preparatory for this, before snow fell in the early fall, I sent men into the forest to gather up tons of fallen leaves and small shrubbery, sufficient to last us through the winter. We used two or three wagon loads at a performance, throwing them in front of the great drafts created by the ventilating fans forced through funnels that could be turned in any direction. The roar of the fans and the disturbance created when the air was turned in the direction of the camps lifted the tents from their fastenings, causing the flags to snap in the breeze. Then when the storm was at the height of its fury, the leaves would be turned loose, sweeping across the arena with great force, lifting the equestrians from their horses and creating sad havoc in other directions; this, added to the light and cloud effects, with the old Deadwood stage coach striking a snag in the ravine and going to pieces while the six mules escaped on a dead run with the forward wheels of the vehicle, and the driver dragging by the rains, never failed to give us a curtain call that sent the big audience away in the best humor.

The "first night" of the production, I remember, took place the night before Thanksgiving of that year, and so emphatic was the approval of the public that we felt justified in canceling all other engagements for the garden, holding the time open subject to any change in our policy as designated in the original contract for one week's notice. The business dropped a little in bad weather, principally on account of not being able to properly heat the old garden with its primitive "hot air" furnaces, but we never lost confidence in the enterprise, and often turned away hundreds of people in storm and blizzards.

When we came to announce the last week's engagement, the public seemed to have acquired the habit of coming to see us. I often stood at the door with a number of my associates announcing that no one would be admitted unless they held reserve seats, as there was no standing room, and the side entrances for the cheaper seats had already closed.

Some time previous to the close of the Wild West engagement a most intensely interesting situation arose as to the future action and management of the circuses, and as I represented the Forepaugh interests In this matter, I simply laid low, as it were, and awaited the advance of the enemy. I know full well that he was preparing for some movement, for he had gone so far as to got an option on the old exposition building on Third avenue for the purpose of presenting the Barnum show in that institution about the same time that we were to open at the garden. He had secured the services of one or two of my best agents and tried to subsidize some of the newspapers and bill posters in New York and surrounding territory and in other ways prepared for a hot contest.

However, I felt quite secure In my position and calmly awaited results, which came in the form of an interview with the Barnum people, who were always welcome and made frequent visits to our show during the run of the Wild West. Indeed, we often had pleasant chats as to what we were going to do to each other in the spring.

These discussions finally resulted in a call from my old friends, Messrs. Cole and Hutchinson, who inquired as to what arrangements could be made for us to release the garden, they to exhibit in New York, and let Mr. Forepaugh have Philadelphia exclusively to himself, and then divide the territory for the balance of the season so that neither show would conflict with the other. My reply, offhand, to this suggestion was to the effect that I did not believe that Mr. Forepaugh would accept any proposition that would prohibit him from exhibiting in Madison Square Garden after so long a struggle to got a foothold, and that I would not care to submit such a plan to him. However, I was willing to consider a proposition to bring about perfect harmony, and in my opinion the right thing to do was to consolidate both shows for Madison Square Garden.

The amazement of our competitors at such a hint was almost amusing, and they could not see how such a thing was to be brought about. Maintaining that this was perfectly easy and feasible, I pointed a way by suggesting that we would take the best features of both shows, unite the menageries, utilize both bands, putting one set of musicians in one end of the garden, and the other directly opposite, allowing them to enter the contest in musical rivalry, and then make up the program so that the principal acts of each show should be alternated in three rings and on two stages, thus making the performance a competitive exhibition all the way through. This, I maintained, would give New York something it had never seen before and probably would never see again. The plan was finally settled upon and on the contract which we made, it was specified among other things, that for the next four years neither show should conflict with the other, in the routing of territory, or by inducing the agents or performers to leave the employ of the other without first attaining a written consent of the proprietors or managers.

It is needless to say that when both of these big shows, the two largest in the world, marched down Broadway in parade, they attracted unusual attention, and there is no question, but that the Forepaugh show received the most flattering applause, as it brought to New York an entirely new line of attractions in the way of wagons, tableaux, cages, wardrobes, and other effects. It may also be truthfully said that the Barnum equipment was much more expensive than ours, but it had become familiar to the New Yorkers. This same contrast prevailed at the performances, as in many instances the Forepaugh acts, such an the dancing elephants, Blondin pony, and other novelties, not forgetting the most excellent band, made emphatic hits.

The whole engagement was a great financial and artistic success. We a departed from the garden, after paying all expenses for the winter, with a good round profit to our credit, to say nothing of the publicity secured throughout the country, as we took particular pains to entertain all of our newspaper friends and celebrities who visited New York during the winter. I recall with a great deal of satisfaction that we were frequently visited by men of high degree and of all walks of life, including journalists, statesmen, writers, artists, railway officials and others of great reputation, who always seemed to take particular pride and pleasure in making themselves at home. The courtly manner of Buffalo Bill, Major Burke, Steele Mackey and all others who were directly associated with us at that time created warm friendships that were lasting and beneficial.

At the close of the garden engagement, Buffalo Bill embarked with his entire Wild West outfit for London, England, where he opened at Earl's Court for a long engagement and remained all summer, creating a decided furor with a unique and immensely interesting exhibition of the Wild West, entirely new and different from anything that had ever appeared in the Eastern Hemisphere. When I come to relate more about my connection with Buffalo Bill and his enterprises I will point out some of the particulars of this eventful voyage and marvelous success.

The two circuses (Barnum and Forepaugh) went on their way rejoicing. As there were no other shows in the field that might be considered as competitors the road tour was very successful for both. At the termination of the season James A. Bailey, who had regained his health, was anxious to get back in the business. He was enabled to do so by Mr. Barnum, who bought out the interest of all of his partners and offered Mr. Bailey an opportunity to come back into the fold as an equal owner of the "Greatest Show on Earth." Before continuing this subject I shall take up the career of Adam Forepaugh and my connection with that organization previous to entering into arrangements with Mr. Bailey, whereby I became associated with him for the balance of his life.

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