Charles Stow, Circus Writer

The title “circus writer,” adopted by the circus managers who first employed literary representatives, best applies to Charles Stow, who died in Whitestone, New York, August 16. Mr. Stow was always reticent about his affairs and during his circus career avoided any personal publicity. He was twice married. His father was an Erie County, Pennsylvania, judge, and the son was expected to follow in the father’s footsteps in a career at the bar. Col. Dan Rice, the famous circus clown, was the most prominent citizen of Girard and occupied a palatial residence. Rice evidently influenced Stow more than Blackstone. And, having the literary gift, the embryo attorney occupied the editorial chair of the Colonel’s newspaper, the Cosmopolite, and as a matter of course wrote bills and puffs for the jester of national repute.

While some press agents, through personal magnetism and diplomacy, might have been able to accomplish more than Charles Stow, there was not one during his long career who wrote more effectively and with less effort. His jingles, rhymes and block verse were telling; and embellished his couriers and pamphlets, giving them a pleasing variety.

Mr. Stow was never by his consent mentioned as a director of publicity or press agent. His private card always read, “Charles Stow, Editor.”

Mr. Stow possessed oratorical gifts and participated in political campaigns and was quite as strenuous in his way as Roosevelt of Washington. He wrote and delivered a lecture in verse entitled “The Cussedness of Inanimate Things.” The circus writer had views about himself and others and expressed them freely because he had a superb opinion of his own unquestioned ability and believed in himself. He once calmly remarked in the office of a show printing house, in the presence of several scribes of established reputations:

“Mr. Durand and I are the only circus writers in the business.”

The silence that ensued was felt with both hands by some of the literary lights of the arena; and that wretch, Bill Durand, smiled his approval, while Dr. Reilly at his desk was dumbfounded.

Some of the best work from Stow’s pencil was written on behalf of the two shows of the Sells Brothers. He was in no way hampered and wrote and prepared all kinds of copy with perfect freedom of action. The writer was always at his best when having his own way. Peter Sells was himself a first-class writer and advertiser and equal to any of the scribes in peace or war; moreover, the junior member of the firm was a comrade as well as an employer. The elder brothers were appreciative, although Lewis was free to confess that he could readily find fault, but he could find none with Charles Stow.

James A. Bailey had a high opinion of Stow as a writer and held Durand in like esteem. But Bailey and Stow both had red in the hair and at times there was friction when the flint and steel came together. One summer Stow and Charles Sivals, representing different shows, met in St. Louis where they discovered that a variety theatre was on the market for a mere song. They bought out the place as a speculation with no idea of holding it. But Bailey called Stow down and informed him [that] no agent of Barnum, Bailey & Hutchinson Shows was permitted to engage in private business.

Regardless of consequences, Stow exploded and informed Bailey that he would engage in any form of business that he saw fit, that what he did with his money was his own affair, and B. B. & H., individually and collectively, could “go to.” A split in the party followed, Bailey and Stow both being too stubborn to relent. Bailey was in a dilemma. He was short-handed for a writer. He invited Fred Lawrence to bear a hand. Lawrence declined. [He] then was proffered a season’s engagement and, as a matter of principle, [he] refused to fill Stow’s place. Ready circus writers have always been few in number and few arena scribes of caliber [could] suit the exacting James A. Bailey. The men with red in the hirsute got together again, to flare up at the first friction.

As contractors of newspaper space, Damon and Pythias, the only two on earth, Stow and Durand, differed in policy. Stow believed in a spirit of liberality in dealing with the press; at the same time not submitting to extortion. Durand, on the other hand, took a fiendish delight in making a grinding contract that left the publisher in no way disposed toward the show. Charles Stow’s policy of equity proved a winner. Often in collision of opposition with a rival show, he would turn over his contracting to one of the other press men and go to the front and hustle all along the line in the interest of the Barnum show; [in so doing, he was] welcomed and boosted in every newspaper office.

Stow was peculiar in the desire not to be known as being connected with a circus and had strange ideas in regard to his personal stature. On his visit to San Francisco, en route to Australia in advance of the Sells Brothers’ Shows, he was accompanied by his bride, the second Mrs. Stow. As if possessed of a dual personality, he said to the associate editor of music and drama:

“Please do not mention my marriage in your columns, for you know that I am not in the profession.”

Charles Stow, himself to the contrary, was very much in the profession and an honor to it.

While Mr. Stow, the individual, depreciated any publicity as to his connection with the circus, he wrote with actual enthusiasm and his pen shed the flowers of a rich imagination. The writer controlled a wonderful vocabulary and every line was a lure to follow to the culminating climax of adjectives and amazing alliterations. Stow must have been inspired in his youth by the night told tales rehearsed in the winter quarters of the beloved Dan Rice’s Show in Girard, even though he attempted to keep his identification with the show a secret.

Stow’s assertiveness, aggressiveness and tremendous self-esteem expressed itself in his production in New York of a play from his pen. The verdict was unfavorable, but, in spite of the critics and the frank opinions of two true friends, he avowed that it was as good as anything that Shakespeare ever wrote; and [he] declared that he had been sacrificed by Barnum, Bailey & Hutchinson in a conspiracy to retain his services. He not only said it but believed it. And, in consequence, there was another break and “split” in the party.

In the passing away of Charles Stow, circus writer, another one of the members of the old guard has joined the majority, leaving but few behind to sound the praises of a member who, all in all, was a good fellow and a master at his calling.


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Copyright © 2005
William L. Slout and Circus Historical Society, Inc.