Reminiscences of a Showman

Today Mr. Cooke begins the narration of his experiences as agent for the big Barnum & Bailey show.

The disastrous fire which destroyed the menagerie of the concern in Bridgeport is described. Mr. Cooke also details the methods by which that menagerie was replaced in time to exhibit the coming season. His own experiences in pursuit of attractions in the Northwest and elsewhere, and the hardships he encountered in the search are graphically. portrayed.

Mr. Cooke carries the history of the show up to the point of its departure for its first London engagement.

Next week Mr. Cooke will tell of the Barnum & Bailey visit to London. It will be a most interesting story, abounding in stories never before made public and rich in reminiscences of persons known throughout the world.

Near the close of the season of 1887 with the Forepaugh Show, while at my home here in Newark, I received a telegram from James A. Bailey asking me to meet him in New York soon as possible. Upon my arrival he informed me he had just re-purchased a full half interest in the Barnum show and that he wanted me with him, adding that he was back in the business for life and wanted to surround himself with some of the best men to be found, who would remain with him to the end.

While I was very anxious to join Mr. Bailey, with whom I had enjoyed the most friendly relations for years, it occurred to me that I had made the existing contract by and between the Barnum and Forepaugh shows, providing for a division of territory, non-conflict of interests and specially stating that neither show should employ or induce the agents, performers or any principal employes of the other to engage without written consent. I explained to Mr. Bailey I would not like to be the first to abrogate that contract. However, if we could fix it with Mr. Forepaugh I would be delighted to join his staff, as I knew what it meant for the future. Thereupon he grasped my hand in both of his, shook it warmly and said: "Cooke, I like to hear you talk like that. We will got Forepaugh's consent and you will remain with me for life."

Both of these prophesies were fulfilled to the letter. That was the only contract I ever had with Mr. Bailey, as we always agreed upon salary or compensation for any service, and no written document could possibly make the obligation more binding.

It took some little diplomacy on the part of Mr. Bailey and myself to get Forepaugh's written release for my services, but it was brought about in a few days by Mr. Bailey calling upon "Adam" at his home in Philadelphia to talk over matters regarding the agreement between the two shows and exchange felicitations. Among other things it was suggested at this interview that one or the other might have some people that they would like to exchange or animals to trade. Or, again, it might be advisable to change the route of the shows occasionally and not adhere strictly to the text of the contract, of which Mr. Forepaugh seemed to be very proud. All of this was agreed to, and "Adam" in his magnanimity, stated that if there was anyone in his employ whom Mr. Bailey might want he was at liberty to go.

"Well," said Bailey, "'there is Cooke. He has been with you a long time, and as he understands all about this agreement it might be greatly to your interest to have such a good friend on our side. But he will not come over unless you give your written consent."

"Well, now," Forepaugh, replied, "I don't know how Mr. Cooke feels about it, but if he wants to go, and can do any better than he is doing with me, I have no objections, and as I expect him over tomorrow on some business I will talk with him and see what he says."

That night I received a wire from Bailey to go and see Forepaugh at once while he was in a good humor. This I did, and came away with the coveted letter of release.

Special Agent for Barnum & Bailey

As soon as preliminaries were arranged it was understood that I was to act is a special agent to take up anything that might be to the best interest of the "Barnum and Bailey, Greatest Show on Earth" (P. T. Barnum,-James A. Bailey, Equal Owners.) Such was the title of the new organization. On the same day that I was engaged, Mr. George O. Starr was also booked as one of the new resentatives, which completed the business staff for Mr. Bailey, as nearly all of the old Barnum agents were retained, including such prominent men as W. H. Gardner, R. F. (Tody) Hamilton, Charles Stowe, R. G. Ball, Henry Hedges, Alf. Riel and numerous others who had been with the show a number of years and with whom it was a decided pleasure to be associated.

Mr. Merritt F. Young, Mr. Bailey's great personal friend, was placed in charge of the office as treasurer; Benjamin Fish, a brother-in-law of Mr. Barnum, was made his personal representative and secretary, thus completing the business organization with the exception of Mr. Charles Fuller, an old-time veteran and a gentleman who was considered one of the very best railway contractors of his time. He did not live to begin his work with us in that capacity, and his place was filled by Mr. W. R. Hayden, who also happened to be one of my earliest associates with the W. W. Cole circus and, who for years occupied the position of railway contractor with Cole while I was the general agent of that concern.

It so happened that on the very day I received my instructions to depart for the West to prospect the country, get rates for transportation and look out for some special features and attractions for the new show, Mr. Starr was also authorized to sail for Europe to investigate the possibility of obtaining new attractions and act as the European agent, and we prepared to start on our journeys the next day.

A Visit to the Grants.

My first mission was to proceed to Seville, O., and interview my old friends, Captain M. V. Bates and wife, the two giants, of whom I have had occasion to refer before, and if possible secure their services and induce them to travel once more. Although they had already announced that they had retired from the road, Mr. Bailey was particularly anxious to secure them as a special feature.

On my way west I called at their country home at Seville, and, as I arrived late in the morning and had to wait for a night train, I was able to make them a most enjoyable visit, although no inducements I could offer caused them to forsake their peaceful life at home. Their house I found to be a veritable giant's castle. The lower story was fourteen and one-half feet in height and the upper over twelve feet. The doorways, as I measured them, were nine and one-half feet high, while ordinary doors are seldom over six and one-half feet. The furniture and tables corresponded with the magnitude of the building. Every room had chairs especially built for the captain and his wife, but, of course, there was ordinary furniture for their friends and servants. The bedstead was eight feet five inches long by five feet six inches wide. The chairs, bureaus, wash-stands and, in fact, everything corresponded in magnitude, and as if to make everything harmonious the captain had a hobby for raising big horses and cattle, as his well-filled barns and pastures attested, and the big pair were quite contented to remain at home on the farm as they were.

The Menagerie Burns.

Leaving the way station of Seville that night, I was greatly shocked the next morning as we neared Chicago, on purchasing a paper from the newsboy, to read the startling headlines which told of the burning of the Barnum & Bailey winter quarters at Bridgeport the evening before. The fire had consumed all the buildings and wiped out the entire menagerie, and with the exception of a few elephants and the loose or lead animals that could be assisted from the flames.

On my arrival in Chicago I immediately telegraphed Mr. Bailey, asking for instructions as to whether I should proceed on my route, as outlined, or return to New York. Within a few hours a wire came to the effect that everything was practically destroyed, but that we would have a bigger, better show than ever and all new. I was instructed to make an extra effort to secure every animal or attraction available and proceed en route as instructed.

I at once got into touch with all of the traveling shows as well as the zoological gardens in Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis and caused advertisements to be inserted in the newspapers in several Western cities asking for such attractions without disclosing my identity, which enabled me to pick up a good variety of animals, as I continued on my way westward.

In relating some of the thrilling incidents of the fire which will remain vividly in the memory of those who witnessed them, it may be said that one of the terrified spectators did not realize that the only lion that had been saved from the conflagration would obey the restraining hand of his keeper, who grasped the beast with his hands and commenced to fire shots with a revolver, which frightened the animal until he broke away, outstripped his pursuers and entered a barn nearby. In the dim light he was mistaken for a huge dog by a Mrs. Gilligan, the owner of the barn, who grasped a broom, rushed at the lion and began to "shoo" him away.

Of the herd of thirty-four elephants, thirty escaped as they were in a separate building, but four of the most famous elephants living at that time were consumed in the flames, Alice, Jumbo's widow; the so-called "white elephant," Fong Foulong; Samson, the next largest to Jumbo, and Tom Thumb, the baby elephant, all came to an untimely end.

Mr. Barnum himself related to me, after the fire, that he did not know of it until the next morning, as he had left word at the office of his hotel in New York not to deliver any telegrams after he had retired. In the morning Mrs. Barnum handed him a telegram from Bridgeport which read: "Large animal buildings entirely consumed by fire, with entire menagerie except thirty elephants and one lion." He turned over in bed and remarked, "I am sorry, my dear, but apparent evils are often blessings in disguise."

The next week when he met Mr. Bailey in the business office at Madison Square Garden he found him intently reading a pile of telegrams and letters and making memoranda, and upon inquiry as to what he was doing, Mr. Bailey coolly remarked, "I am ordering a menagerie."

"What! all in one day?"

He replied, "I know from these telegrams just what our agents are doing, and we will have all the animals we want. In less than twenty-four hours we will own a finer menagerie than the one we have just lost.

After Animals In Europe.

As stated, Mr. Starr was at sea, and as there was no wireless in those days, he did not get any information as to the destruction of the winter quarters until he arrived in London three days later. His instructions by cable were practically the same as mine and anyone who ever knew George Starr will realize that he was equal to any emergency. He at once telegraphed to all of the zoological gardens and animal dealers on the continent to hold any animals that they might have for sale subject to his arrival. It appeared immediately thereafter that he was none too soon in this respect, as Herr Carl Hagenbeck the famous animal dealer in Hamburg, Germany, had heard of the catastrophe and realized the fact that Barnum & Bailey would require a lot of animals and wrote letters to all the presidents of the zoological gardens and instructed his agent to be on the lookout for animals for himself. But Mr. Starr's telegram "beat him to it,” and before Hagenbeck's letters were delivered, Starr had tied up everything in the country.

All those who will remember the circumstances will recall that the Barnum & Bailey show the next season had one of the largest collections of animals of all kinds and of all countries that ever graced a menagerie.

This shows how quickly a menagerie can be built under forced circumstances. In another chapter I will try to give the reader an outline of the methods pursued in capturing all kinds of animals in their native lairs. This is nothing very exciting, and is looked upon as sort of mild sport by the natives, who are often as ignorant and savage as the animals themselves.

An Arduous Journey.

On my journey to the Pacific coast it was my purpose to investigate the possibility of taking the great Barnum & Bailey show to that part of the country, with which I was already quite familiar, having taken the Cole circus through that section on a pioneer expedition as soon as the railways were completed. It was the first circus, indeed, to visit the Far Northwest up into British Columbia and Vancouver by rail and boat. As I went along, stopping at principal points to look after animals and make careful calculations as to what we would be able to do with the big Barnum show in that remote part of the country, I frequently busied myself on the trains enumerating the miles between towns of sufficient size to warrant a stop, or, in case of necessity, to even feed and water. I followed this routine all the way 'round to Seattle, Portland, San Francisco Los Angeles, San Diego and back over the Southern Pacific Railway eastward.

“At that time the coast line of the Southern Pacific railway between Ashland and Shasta was incomplete and I had to stage it over the Siskiyou mountains in midwinter. I recall that one of the most fascinating sights I ever saw in the way of a snowstorm took place on the drive as we passed over the mountain range and near the northern terminal of the line, as it was then completed. The snow seemed to fall in sheets, and the lumbering stage coaches wended their way through the ravines and under the trees, which bent their boughs to sweep the faces of the passengers and cover them with the fleecy snow as it fell without letup or hindrance or a breath of air to change its course. The sight as we looked up or down the sides of the mountain was most magnificent, although greatly discomforting.

There were several incidents of particular note and more or less annoying on this trip, as I frequently found letters or telegrams awaiting me at many points from people who claimed to have all sorts of curiosities just suitable for the Barnum & Bailey show. Strange to say, on running these things to earth, in nine times out of ten, I found them absolutely worthless or simply visions of distorted minds. On one occasion I was induced to take a trip away up to Duluth, with the thermometer down below the bulb so that no one could tell how cold it was, and after all the long journey I found that the feature which the party claimed to have in the way of a double-bodied baby was a myth.

In Pursuit of the Two-Headed Calf.

Again on my arrival at Omaha, eastward bound, I received a letter which had been forwarded to me from the New York office to the effect that a party living at Mitchell, S. D., had a two-headed calf for sale and the writer went on to describe this animal as one of the wonders of the world, which he was ready to dispose of for $50 cash. My instructions were to go to Mitchell and bring the calf home with me. I took the next train, much against my will, as I had that very morning received a telegram telling me that I had a new daughter with beautiful blue eyes whom they called, “viola,” and I was exceedingly anxious to take the first express train home, as I had expected to do. But my early training was always to obey orders, and away I went to Dakota, the birthplace of blizzards. Again I was in the midst of a terrific snowstorm which looked to me like a baby blizzard and I was not at all disappointed in this respect.

On my arrival at Mitchell, about midday, our train being five or six hours late on account of the storm, I hurried around to find the party with the calf with the duplex head and was referred to a harness maker in the town, who bore the name signed to my letter of information. The owner of the shop, who was a very affable old gentlemen, read the letter and said that it must be some mistake, as that was the name of his son and that he himself had never heard of any such curiosity in that country. The young man was called in from the back shop. When confronted with the document he gasped for breath and was unable to make any explanation as to his reason for making such a statement, as he had only heard that such an animal existed up in the country and that a friend of his had told him that if he would write to Barnum he would send him $50 to pay for his time and trouble in finding a curiosity of this kind.

What I said to the father and son on that occasion is not fit to put in print, and, as the telegraph lines were all down, I could not even relieve my mind by wiring the home office.

However, my troubles had just begun. Upon my return to the hotel for dinner, in a hurried effort to try and catch an afternoon train out of Mitchell, I was informed that all trains had been abandoned and there was no knowing when that branch would be open for traffic. In anything but a pleasant frame of mind I tried to make the best of it, and did so by remaining in that bleak and barren hotel in a frontier town with the snow drifts piled above the window sills and athwart the thresholds. As I sat there contemplating the situation the snow came through under the door, making beautiful drifts and banks across the floor, and the frosty panes were so dense that one could not see through the window to ascertain how bad the weather was. When night came I would wrap myself in Navajo blanket, which I was wise enough to take along, jump into a bed, as cold as the weather outside, and dream of better times. It was just four days before a wheel was turned or any train moved that would take me eastward.

Report Adversely to the Western Tour.

When I got into civilization, where the wires were working, I apprised the folks of my whereabouts, and upon my arrival at the office in New York I was welcomed like a long-lost brother. I laid my reports before Mr. Bailey for the first time, and I was soon assured that my trip had been entirely satisfactory in every respect, although I did not report favorably upon taking the big show through that section of the country at that time. I tried to convince our people of this fact by pointing out the uncertainty of the railway being completed between Portland and San Francisco, and showing that the railway rates for those long jumps would make it altogether too expensive for any profits. This belief was backed up by a prospective route which I had made up as I went along, giving the distance between points, the population of all exhibition stands, and the possible receipts at each stand on the basis of the population. Strange as it may appear, when we did make that country several years later my prospective figures did not vary $2,000 per week on the whole tour.

The precise manner in which I drew up this route, with all the particulars outlined on paper, seemed to impress Mr. Bailey very favorably and he took particular pains to explain to Mr. Barnum, in a later interview, that this was the first time that he had ever had a man who seemed to be able to make everything perfectly clear, so far in advance. In addition to this, I had already made up a prospective route for the show, omitting the California trip, going into all the details as to the railways, the length of the runs, and other particulars based upon the practical experience and lessons which I had received on my many journeys throughout the country with my former employer, W. W. Cole, who was a past master in this line of work.

Where Barnum's Influence Failed.

It should, however, be recorded that Mr. Barnum was particularly anxious to take the show to the Pacific coast, as he had long contemplated such a trip, and when I gave him as a reason that the railway transportation was too high, he thought that a great deal of influence could be brought to bear upon his old friend and school-mate, C. P. Huntington, who was then president of the Southern and Central Pacific Railroad. Mr. Barnum suggested that he would make an appointment with Mr. Huntington to meet him at, his office, and take me along to cover and convey the details of the proposed trip. The meeting of the two monarchs of their respective callings were glad and glorious. I began to feel, perhaps, we would make a favorable impression at least. Mr. Barnum put up his argument and called upon me for details as to the physical condition of the country and railways, as well as to set forth the reasons why we could not, as a business proposition, afford to pay the rates named by the officials of the line in San Francisco.

After listening very attentively to my explanation, Mr. Huntington remarked that I "seemed to know a great deal more about the railways in that country than he did himself" and that he would not like to give any decision until he first communicated with the operating department in California, but that he would suggest to them that they try to name a rate that his old friend, Mr. Barnum, could afford to pay, as he would like to have the "Greatest Show on Earth" visit that part of the world. This story can be cut short by stating that we did not succeed in reducing the rates that year.

It will also be recalled that on the very day that we were to open the season at Madison Square Garden this country was inflicted with the great blizzard of 1888 and, while the show opened on time, for the first three days there were frequently more people in the arena than on the seats; but every performance was given on time and the program followed religiously. The snow was so deep you could not get to the Garden on the Fourth avenue side, and I am sure that many of us can remember that there was not a train running between Newark and New York for three days; consequently I was just as effectively snowbound, here in Newark, as I was in Mitchell, S. D., but the drifts soon melted or were swept away and our business for six weeks at the Garden, with the new show and all the notoriety that we had gained by reason of the fire and re-organization, started us out of New York as an overwhelming success.

The expenses in rebuilding winter quarters at Bridgeport, re-establishing the show and putting it on the road, were something enormous, and on top of all this we encountered a great deal of bad weather and many unforeseen difficulties for the first part of the season. Among other things the Interstate Commerce Commission had just gone into effect the season before, and the railways were all upset as to what they might be able to do in the way of naming rates and handling special trains of any kind. I remember that Mr. Hayden and myself, who were detailed to look after the railway contracts and excursion work, were put to our wits end in meeting all of the arguments which we had to confront and switching the route of the show around to overcome marry difficulties, but we finally managed to get through with it and, as my records prove, the railway rates were as low and the excursion business the largest ever done by the Barnum show, so far as the number of coupon tickets sold and the amount of money received from the railways for the excursion traffic indicate.

The season was cut short on account of our being compelled to terminate the tour at Marshall, Tex., and abandon the proposed Southern trip because of the fever quarantine in Mississippi and Alabama, which I have described in a previous chapter. The show shipped from Marshall direct to winter quarters in Bridgeport, Conn., with a layover for one day at Newport, Ark., where we stopped for feed and water and gave one afternoon performance to a large audience, with no announcement of an exhibition until the day before the show arrived, and then only in the local newspapers and by word of mouth.

An Uneventful Season.

At the close of the season Mr. Hayden returned to his theatrical work as manager for Robinson and Crane, and I was appointed as general railway contractor, excursion and special agent, and to take charge of all printing, designing and small publications, of which we had a great variety, although most of the descriptive matter was prepared by such literary experts as "Tody" Hamilton, Charles Stowe and others, who were in our annual employ.

The winter of 1888-89 was uneventful, except that money was spent lavishly in fitting up the show at Bridgeport, while our New York offices, where Mr. Bailey presided late and early with a staff of agents, wardrobe makers and designers to practically create an entirely new show for a tour of the eastern country. We opened at Madison Square Garden March 21, 1889, and exhibiting in every city or town of importance as far east as Quebec, and covering all of Canada westward, through to Erie, Pa., and thence back to Altoona, Pa., where we closed the season September 28, preparatory to sailing for London, England, in October of that year. The details of the London tour will be given in a future chapter, as well as an outline of the important movements of Mr. James A. Bailey, the greatest showman the world has ever known.

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