Circus Historical Society
Circus Memoirs
Reminiscences of George Middleton as told to and written by his wife.George Middleton, author, 1913.
| I. Circus Memoirs (boyhood) | IX. Personal Recollections |
| I. Circus Memoirs (boyhood) | IX. Personal Recollections |
In 1880 I went out with Adam Forepaugh's circus. We were out, of course, the regular season of six months. It was not a very prosperous season and I didn't like the idea of being idle all winter, so I went over to New York just before my season closed and started a dime museum. Having an acquaintance with curiosities, and managed a circus as well as the side shows, I was familiar with the performances necessary; so I rented a room and opened up a dime museum - the first in the United States. It proved a success from the start.
I continued for about two years, when the circus fever came over me again and I wanted to travel, so I sold the dime museum, or rather, I might say, I gave it away, for I got nothing for it, and went out on the road again with a circus, lost all the money I had made and wound up flat broke.
I went out next season with John O'Brien's circus, which was not very successful, and we left a trail of circus plunder behind us to pay debts, or as security for debts incurred, that reached nearly from St. Louis to Winnipeg, where, fortunately, we struck good business and Kohl and I formed a partnership.
The show wintered in Frankford and opened there in the spring. In the side show we had a big negro whom we had fitted up with rings in his nose, a leopard skin, some assagais and a large shield made out of cow's skin. While he was sitting on the stage in the side show, along came two negro women and remarked, "See that nigger over there? He ain't no Zulu, that's Bill Jackson. He worked over here at Camden on the dock. I seen that nigger often." Poor old Bill Jackson was as uneasy as if he was sitting on needles, holding the shield between him and the two negro women. Fortunately for him, about this time the audience was called to another portion of the tent.
In coming down from the northwest C. E. Kohl and I decided there was an opening in Chicago for a dime museum, so we formed a co-partnership and I went on to Chicago to look up a location, which I found at 150 West Madison Street, just east of Halstead. It was an instantaneous success, and we kept in operation a great many years.
The next year we opened one at 150 Clark Street, which was also very successful.
During the World's Fair we opened another one at 300 State Street, which was also a success. We also established them in Milwaukee, Cincinnati, Louisville, St. Paul, Minneapolis, and Cleveland. All except Cleveland paid handsomely, which was our only failure in the dime museum business.
It was a strange business, and for a few years the dime was something new for the price of admission to a place of amusement. Thousands and thousands of people would pass along and say, "Oh, let's go in for fun;" but as years went by those same people became critics and would not spend their dime nor their time unless the show was considered worth it.
The dime museum business, with its curiosities, its stage performance and its music, led to the continuous vaudeville of the theatres; then came the ten, twenty and thirty cent performance, the people all the time demanding better shows, for which they were willing to pay, until finally it has reached the high class vaudeville of today, in which higher salaries are paid than in any other class of amusement, excepting grand opera.
We exhibited many strange curiosities and some very interesting ones. One was Anna Leake, who was born without arms. She told me her father was a man who drank a great deal and was very quarrelsome with his friends. Her mother learned of his being in a scrap down in the town, and when she saw him coming home, he had his overcoat thrown over his shoulders without his arms in the sleeves. She claimed this was the reason she was armless. She died a few years ago. She was a noble woman and I think the angels came out of heaven to meet her.
Jonathan Bass, the Ossified Man, was quite a curiosity. A great many people came to see him. He told me the ossification was brought on by his being in the water so much of his time rafting lumber. I would always have a little chat with him on his arrival. He was blind and had no more control of himself than a broomstick. He would tell me of the trouble he was having in the management of his farm; how the men would not put in the crops he told them to. He would swear like a trooper. Whenever he was raised up to give a lecture some one in the audience would surely faint. The public was incredulous that it was he speaking, some declaring that it was a ventriloquist.
John Snyder was quite a drawing card for us. He was afflicted with a nervous disease which made it impossible for him to keep still. Kohl made the advertising read that "When he got tired he would have to run up and down stairs to rest himself."
In 1880, while owner of the Globe Dime Museum, 298 Bowery, New York, along came two bright chaps, Weber and Fields, asking for something to do. I put them to passing hand bills.
After making themselves useful for a week or two they informed me they would like to go on the stage for a turn. So I put them on and they made good and have continued to do so from that day up to the present time. We often talk it over and we always have a warm place in our hearts for each other.
It is strange, and then again, I do not know that it is so strange, the number of ideas you can get from an outsider for your business.
We had been exhibiting fat women for a great many years, when down in Cincinnati one day there came a chap along from over in Kentucky who said he had a fat woman, a negress, called Big Winny; that he would like to hire her out and wanted us to give him three hundred dollars a week for her. We had been hiring fat women for twenty-five and fifty dollars a week, and big ones too. This chap was so persistent that I listened to him, and finally decided to take a chance. So I wired up to Kohl that I had hired a fat woman for three hundred dollars a week. Well he, of course, was staggered by my hiring her, but no more than I was at doing it. This is what I learned from the chap, whose name was Robinson:
He had her arrive in town in an express car, claiming she was too big to get into a passenger coach door. Then he hired a big truck to be at the depot and backed up to the door of the express car, taking her on the truck through the streets to the museum.
It is a wonder we were not all arrested, for the streets were blockaded, street cars stopped, and traffic was suspended. Everybody wanted to see BIG Winny. They were lined up in front of the box office and across the side walk, and were going in just as fast as they could. They looked like soldiers going to the war. That business kept up for weeks, and it surely opened our eyes.
We took her to Chicago with the same result. Everywhere we took her it was capacity house for months.
Robinson got sore and of course wanted a raise in his salary, but we had an iron clad contract with him and held him to it.
We put on a beauty show of about fifteen or sixteen fairly good looking young ladies and one old girl who thought she still retained her charms. In giving out the numbers, she drew number nine. Every person entering the museum was entitled to a vote of their choice, the one receiving the largest number of votes to be declared the beauty. The fun of it was that eight out of ten of the public, just as a joke, voted for number nine. This of course swelled the poor girl's head and she really believed that she was "It." "Number Nine" was a great joke around Chicago for a number of years afterward.
We had gum-chewing contests, type-writing contests and many other kinds of contests as could be given in a small space.
We conceived the idea one day of exhibiting the fat man lying down, so we fixed up a comfortable bed for him on the stage, and began advertising him as being so large that he couldn't walk. He was perfectly contented to lie there on the mattress, until the public came to see him in such great numbers that he began to think he was a great drawing card, then claimed that it was very hard work to lie there and asked for more money. We stood him off the best we could, but one day when the lecturer was telling of how large he was, and what a burden he was to himself; how he couldn't walk nor help himself, in fact, how he had to be taken care of like a baby, he got up right in the midst of the talk and informed the lecturer that he was tired of it and wouldn't work that way any more unless he got more money; then walked off the stage.
Mille Christine, the Double-Headed Nightingale, colored, born in South Carolina, was brought up north once in a while and placed on exhibition by Joe Smith. She was a very fine drawing card. She could sing, dance and play the piano. One head sang soprano while the other head sang contralto. She was very religious and could never be induced to exhibit on Sunday. In all my experience she was the only person that I ever met who would not.
Eli Bowen was quite an attraction for us. He was born without legs, his feet protruding from his body. He was a very nice entertainer.
Quite a character, who may be living today, was "Popcorn George." His home was in Evansville, Wisconsin. He had the record of being more successful in discovering curiosities than any man I ever knew. Old George would come along with something to hire out quite often, and it was generally a curiosity or a good freak.
Kohl never forgave him for the last one he handed us. He came down and said he had a great thing for us, informing us that it was a Mongoose. Kohl nor I never knew what a Mongoose was, but he gave us a very careful description of it, as we thought. On his description we ordered the paintings for the front of the house, having them made about as large as a small elephant. When the wagon backed up to the door with the Mongoose, to our great surprise it was in a small soap box and looked to be about the size of a muskrat. There was an awful amount of kicking about the Mongoose from the visitors.
It is a showman's place to supply what the public wants, if he can find out what that is, and we found they always liked a fortune teller. We usually kept one for the ladies so they could visit her and be told the good, bad and indifferent of what was to happen, etc. I never could understand why people with common sense would consult a clairvoyant or a fortune teller and expect to learn anything of any benefit. I always contended and maintained that if they had the power to foresee the future they would not have time to bother telling others their fortunes. They could be so independent, and have so much money they would not have to be living in garrets or back rooms, as they usually do; neither would they be travelling around through the country. They could use their powers and take advantage in a large way of their knowledge, instead of fooling with inquisitive people.
They used to tell me in the museum that men from the Board of Trade and banks would consult them as to the future markets, and the price of wheat, corn and pork. To me it was always a joke.
We exhibited Tom Thumb and his wife quite often. Tom was always a good card. I think he was the drawing card, but at the same time his wife, a very charming little woman, pleased the people after they arrived. Tom got much larger the latter years of his life than when he was formerly on exhibition, but he was the best drawing midget this country ever saw. I think his name had something to do with it. It was such a proper name for a midget; no one ever seemed to forget it.
Going along the street, if the word was passed that he was Tom Thumb, the sidewalk would soon be blocked, while any other midget would receive only a glance from the people. I have seen him in billiard halls playing the game. He was never a very desirable patron, because there would be nothing doing at any of the other tables while he was playing. He played a fairly good game, too.
Tom would take a little straight nip once in a while. His wife is still living and married happily to an Italian Count. It was only the other day that I read that they were going into the Hotel business somewhere up in Massachusetts.
Chang, the Chinese Giant, was a fine attraction for a museum or a side show, and he was a very nice, decent fellow.
I had Captain Constantinus, the Greek. He was the original tattooed man. They caricatured James G. Blaine after this man. The tattoo work on him was very fine, the best I have ever seen, but he was a surly, overbearing individual, which made it very hard to get along with him.
We often had bearded women on exhibition.
I have often listened to Faber's talking machine that Barnum had with his circus in 1871. It was a very feeble attempt at talking compared with the present talking machines.
I traveled through the South one season with Madame Lake's Circus, and as an outside attraction we sent up hot air balloons. We had a man named Smith who had charge of sending them up. He always succeeded in getting a few negroes to dig the trenches in which to make the fire. On one occasion at Newman, Georgia, after working half a day, and just before the show doors opened, Smithy let the balloon go, and it sailed off beautifully out of sight with a man in the basket. The understanding with the negroes that Smithy employed was that they were to be admitted to the show for their work. In the excitement, while the balloon was sailing off, the darkeys began to think about getting into the show, and one said to the other, "where is that man that said he would put us into the show?" Smithy was in the crowd and the other negro answered: "My God, man, he sailed away in that balloon! He's gone on to the town where they are going to show tomorrow!" And they raised Cain around there until they found Smith, who of course let them into the show as he had agreed to do.
Smith was a good man at getting outside help when we were in a hurry. Before the night show he would always look up ten or fifteen men or boys who would agree to work at packing, he letting them in to see the show; but he would take their hats and caps to be returned after they had finished their work of taking down the tents. They would work along very nicely for a few seasons until they got foxy; then some of them would bring along another hat or cap, keeping it out of sight, and hand him the old no-account hat they were wearing. When the show was over they were on their way home and he was in possession of their old, worn out caps.
Smithy was a good man and remained with me for twenty-five years.
He had one great fault, and that was playing faro. I remember on one occasion he worked all the six summer months. He had saved his money and arrived in Chicago on a Sunday morning. One man who ran a gambling house there, on learning that he had this money, opened up his game and robbed him of it all before night.
Some years ago quite a few of the circuses had grafters. It was never my fortune, or misfortune, whichever it was, to ever be connected with one. They surely had some very clever boys working those games, and the people they worked them on most successfully were aged men, who in their prime never would have fallen into the traps. I have often thought that men who could handle other men and formulate and carry out such schemes and tricks as they did would have been very successful business men had their lines fallen in other places.
I remember on one occasion they got Mr. Nat Lee, of southern Indiana, to go to the bank where his son-in-law, David Graham Phillips' father, was cashier, and ask him for ten thousand dollars. He refused to give any explanation of what he was going to do with it and rushed back and handed it over to these men, who of course made way with it. Now, I call that pretty slick work. There were thousands of cases of this kind but I think, on the whole, there is more danger of having one's means taken away by one's friends and acquaintances, for as a rule you are more suspicious of strangers than you are of people you know.
I knew E. J. Lehman whose estate owns the Fair in Chicago when he was connected with the Van Ambergs Circus when I was looking around for a location in Chicago to start the Museum. I had been trying to close for a lease with John M. Smyth and it hung fire. One day he asked me who I knew in Chicago. I told him I knew Mr. Lehman of the Fair. He asked me to bring a letter from him. I went over to ask Mr. Lehman if I could have one. He said, "come around at 3:00 p.m. I will go over with you to see him." That afternoon we went over. Mr. Lehman said to Mr. Smyth, "If Kohl and Middleton wish the lease have them sign it and send it over to the Fair and I will also sign it." But Mr.Smyth never sent it over. The kindness of Mr. Lehman I never could repay.
I was much surprised when in foreign countries to notice the difference in the circus performers. In our country, where we showed at a different town every day, it was not necessary to change the program, so the performers were educated for one act; while in foreign countries where we remained two, three and four months in one place, they were trained to do many different acts, to make possible a change every week.
I noticed the children of the performers were able to speak three, four or five languages, picking up the language of the country they were in very readily.
In those days all foreign circuses had a number of very fine menage horses, beautifully broken to do their tricks under saddle, and the performers as a rule, were finished artists.
The circus of today is a very different proposition. In the early days the clowns were very popular with the public, the same as a celebrated actor is today. The people were always anxious to hear their latest jokes and songs. After his arrival in a town, he would circulate among the wise ones of the place get hold of a little gossip about some couple going to marry, and to the surprise of the audience he would spring it on them in the way of a joke. Great excitement and pleasure would take place for a few minutes, when the horse would go galloping around the ring again with its rider.
But in these days of three-rings and the platform all the talking is lost.
I have heard people say they would rather go to an old time show of one ring, than the three-ring circus, but if I am a judge, it is dollars to marbles they wouldn't.
It is strange that all large things are more attractive to the public than small things. A large horse is more attractive generally than a small one; a large man is more attractive than a small one. I do not know why it is, but it is undoubtedly true in everything except a woman.
I had quite a card travelling with me for many years by the name of Johnnie Murray, who was often called "The Irish Lord." Everything with him was a joke. If he could get hold of a big ring and a diamond cross he wouldn't trade places with any one on earth. But half the time the cross was in pawn, as he was very fond of faro bank. Sometimes when business was very dull while he was in the ticket wagon, a farmer would come up and say, "give me two tickets." Murray would take a pencil and piece of paper and figure for about half a minute and then tell the gentleman that the two tickets would come to one dollar. On other occasions we would be pretty hard up for coin, with the bills coming in for hay and other supplies. About this time Murray would get out of the wagon, for there was no money in it, and tell the boy who would take his place to say that the Treasurer had gone up town, and that he could not pay any bills until his return. And Murray would take good care not to return until there was some money in the ticket wagon, when he would bluster around and say he was so sorry to have kept the gentlemen waiting.
John O'Brien, whom I have mentioned before, was quite original in his way of paying bills when hard up. He was always sitting at the entrance, and maybe there would be ten men with small bills and one man with a bill that amounted to as much as all the other ten. O'Brien would figure up what the ten small bills amounted to and pay them off and they would go on their way rejoicing. The man with the large bill would contend that he was there first and should have had his money first. O'Brien would explain to him that it was easier for him to satisfy the man with the large bill and keep him quiet than it was the ten men with the small bills; that one man with the small bill out of the ten would make just as much noise and insist just as hard for his money as the one man with the large bill. I thought this was very good logic. It was much better to have one man yelling around there for his money than ten.
The last season I traveled with O'Brien he said some day he was going to give a lecture and that his subject would be: "The Way of the Transgressor is Hard;" and with him it was no joke.
While traveling with Barnum's Show, with which I was interested in the side show and concert and candy stands, I became quite well acquainted with Mr. Barnum. I found him quite an interesting gentleman, but very jealous of his name being connected with any show business which was not all right and first class in every particular. His name was very valuable when connected with any amusement enterprise.
Barnum always regretted having said in his first publication of the history of his life that "American people loved to be humbugged." He told me that he had eliminated it in all the later editions. It annoyed him greatly if any small weekly country newspaper spoke disparagingly of his show.
I had Tom Thumb working for me at one time. One day Barnum was speaking to me about him, saying how ungrateful Tom was; that he had made Tom Thumb the drawing card that he was, but on account of a falling out they had he had cut Tom out of his will. Then when I would be speaking to Tom about Barnum, he would declare that he had made Barnum by exhibiting for him.
I decided I wanted a buggy team and went to Milwaukee and paid five thousand dollars for a pair of trotters, Jack and Knight. Got a nice Brewster buggy and sleigh and was having nice rides, enjoying it all very much. People would ask about them and tell me they had seen Jack race as a four year old and that I ought not to drive him but have him trained to race, which I did. He proved a great horse, the best of his year. People said, "Such luck some men have. Carrigan sold that team to Middleton for all that money." Then when Jack began to show a great horse they said " What luck some men have. Middleton got that team from Carrigan for nothing." Budd Doble did the driving. I had a race horse instead of a road horse and I did not have any more rides. But under the excellent care and guidance of Mr. Budd Doble Jack proved the great race horse of the year and many days I sat in the grand stand and saw him pilot him to victory. Doble often tells that after his great race at Rochester, N. Y., where he won the ten thousand dollar flower stake I asked Doble to stick a pin in me to see if I was alive or dreaming.
In the early days, like the present, press agents were always looking out for catchy lines and about this time panoramas were being built in all large cities, most of them depicting large battles. One of them was of Christ entering Jerusalem, and the press agent wishing to have the manager stand out big, made the advertisement read, "Christ entering Jerusalem, under the management of James Jordon".
Barnum, like many others, regretted getting old. He told me one day that he would give all he had in the world if he could set the peg back twenty years.
One of his great sayings was, that "all men must have a vent so they can blow off and not explode."
I hired a large horse from Barnum once and had him on exhibition in my museum on the Bowery. I took particular pains to paint on the banner in front of the house that the horse belonged to Barnum. He happened to pass on the street one day and came in to see me about it, and said he objected to the way I was advertising the horse; that I had his name out in such a way that people would think it was Barnum's museum. I told him that I only wished it was, that I would like to have his name up over the museum as in the old days. He said, "Well, maybe we can arrange it some day." But that day never came.
When Barnum toured Jenny Lind through the country the people of Madison induced him to have her sing in their city. There being no theater or hall suitable they fitted up an old pork house where she gave her concert. In years afterwards Mr. Barnum often referred to it when speaking to me.
I sometimes wonder if there is any person with ambition who is perfectly satisfied and contented.
I had my first lesson in this when I was in prison during the war. When first taken to Belle Isle prison the rations they served us were very good. We had fresh meat, sweet potatoes, beans, white bread, etc., but as the war dragged along these things began to get very scarce. The Southern soldiers, themselves, after a while had nothing but black eyed peas, sweet potatoes or corn bread, and not much of these, and never but one of them at a time. Then we began to wish that we could get enough to fill us up on even one kind. We thought we would be perfectly satisfied if we had plenty of it, even if it was only corn bread or black eyed peas. After a time I began to fare better by speculating a little, and then I wanted wheat bread, which I bought. When I had all the wheat bread I wanted, I began to wish for some meat. After I was enjoying all the meat I could eat, I wanted pie.
It has been so all through my life, and while people who do not have means ridicule the idea that you are rich if you are contented, it really is the only wealth in the world, because being contented means everything.
In traveling over the country I was much impressed with the soldiers' monuments I saw in the different states and cities and counties, and always hoped the day would come when I could erect one, for I always felt if any soldiers deserved a monument, those from Jefferson county did. The old saying that "everything comes to those who wait," came in my instance, and I took great pleasure and pride in erecting a monument at my old home at Madison. I shall never forget when Mr. Kohl was talking to me down at Madison at the time of the dedication. He was very much pleased to be there with me and to see what I had done, but he would get me to one side once in a while and say, "George, I have always regarded you as a man of good sense; how you ever went out into the army and let them shoot at you for thirteen dollars a month, I do not understand."
We were together for twenty-eight years, and in all that time we never disputed one cent with each other.
Great changes take place during a business life. There was a time when I knew every manager, every agent and every performer with every circus in the country. I went to the Barnum and Bailey show last week and there was only one man in the whole outfit that I knew - Mr. J. Rial.
Before showing through South America I had picked out attractions that would appeal to the eye as far as I could, like a fire eater, swordsman, an educated pig, a woman without arms who could write, sew, etc. Then I had some dancing girls in tights. Everything went along very nicely until one day, at Montevideo, when a committee of prominent Germans called on me to protest against my having a banner displayed with the picture of an educated pig named Bismark. They thought so much of Bismark that they did not like to see his name desecrated. I told them they ought to feel honored, that it was surely a wonderful pig as wonderful in his way as Bismark was in his. Nobody else but a German would have made a protest for a thing like that, and I kept the name Bismark for the pig, just the same.
Traveling through the South was very precarious business, as in those days many of the states were not reconstructed and had no use for the Yankee.
I remember one day at Oxford, Mississippi, where three or four men came up to the tent. One of them took out a large knife, slashed an opening down through the side of the wall and asked if it was the door. We answered, "yes, come right in." They looked around, and when their curiosity was satisfied they departed.
Another day down at Van Buren, Arkansas, the citizens got to quarreling among themselves, shooting at each other, and when it was all over a couple of dead horses lying in the street looked as if there had been a battle fought there.
One night while showing at Canton, Mississippi, a colored man offended some southerners and when the show was out one of the gentlemen shot the Negro - as we supposed, dead - but when they passed on, Mr. Negro got up and walked off. He had "played the 'possum " and got away with it.
I was always amused at the circus and menagerie owned by a man by the name of Smith, who did most of his traveling through Texas. Naturally they would have to drive late at night or early in the morning, as the roads were bad and distances long. Once in a while would be heard the call "Whoa," which meant for the team ahead to stop, and they would always pass the word along. When asked what was the matter they would answer that one of the bears had fallen out. Everyone would have to stop, help lasso the bear and put him back in the cage, which was nothing more than an old ramshackle and hardly fit to hold bears.
We had a funny incident down in Florida one day. There was a drunken guy, as the boys called him, hanging around all day looking for a fight. He kept on taking drinks quite frequently until night overtook him, so he lay down about two-hundred yards from the tent in the grass among the palm trees. One of the boys went out where he was sleeping, and with a sharp knife slit his clothes up the legs, body and arms, so that when he awoke during the night and sobered up a little, he just stood up out of his clothes. It pleased every one, as he had been an awful nuisance around there all day.
With the Great Eastern Circus in Texas one winter we always unloaded the show alongside the lot whenever it was possible. On one occasion we struck a town where the craze and excitement was chicken fights. Most of us put in the day looking at the fights. Charley Stiles, who was quite a character, said one could buy a chicken for $5.00, put him in the pit, and by the time he could turn around to spit the chicken was dead. It was quick work. When night came they had what they called a Battle Royal. Any one could buy a chicken and enter him in the fight. I think there were fifteen in the pit, and the last one to leave the pit alive was the victor. It was surely an unsightly scene.
It was always amusing to watch the circus dogs traveling with the wagon shows. They would go alongside, in front and behind the wagons, whenever they chose, but when they came to a farm house Mr. Foxy Dog would always run under the wagon and travel along between the two pole horses so the country dogs would be unable to reach them. After passing beyond the farm house they would come out and travel along in their usual way.
Speaking about dogs, it reminds me of two that were owned by the Olympic Theater at Chicago. They were surely characters and possessed a great deal of intelligence, as they would travel around to the different saloons and get lunch off the counters where they were known. But on one occasion they lost their heads and nearly lost their lives. They had been accustomed to sleeping in the lower boxes, which were about on a level with the stage floor, but in some way which was never explained they got into an upper box and when they were whistled for, thought they were in the lower box and that all they had to do was to hop out on the stage. When they made their hop they found that they were thirty feet above the stage in an upper box, landing on the stage below much to their surprise and discomfiture. But they were always careful ever after not to go into an upper box.
It was always amusing and a dead give-away to hire teamsters in the town to haul the cages in the circus parade. Lined up along the sidewalks would be the citizens, and among them the driver's friends, calling "Hello, Jim," "Hello, John," etc., which always injured the business.
I think one of the funniest things that ever happened was when John Wilson shipped his circus from San Francisco to Australia. He told his wife that the steamer would not sail until Wednesday morning, but instead of that he fixed it to sail Tuesday night. He wanted to leave her behind. So when she went down Wednesday morning she found the steamer had sailed with all on board. In a couple of days a faster steamer left. She took passage on it and when the steamer carrying Wilson and his circus landed at the pier in Auckland, New Zealand, Wilson's wife was there to meet him. When the circus boys spied her they remarked, "Why, there is Dutch Lizzie." She was a big blonde.
The Happy Family Circus always amused me. It usually included cats, pups, rabbits and monkeys, all living together in harmony. Once in a while we would put in a strange rabbit, and Mr. Monkey was always very wary. The first thing they usually did was to push up a barricade of straw between themselves and the new arrival. In a short time they would be peeking over to see what the rabbit was doing. Then they would muster up courage and reach over and touch the rabbit. If he offered no resistance it was but a little while before one would be pitying him, for Mr. Monkey would be riding on his back all over the cage holding his two ears as though they were a bridle.
I remember one occasion, when I had two monkeys in a cage and the small one got out. He went over to a near by trunk, took the things out of it and carried them over to the large monkey in the cage, who destroyed them as fast as the small monkey brought them to him. Such things as parasols he would strip down to the wires.
This monkey Jeff, that I have mentioned before, was always up to something, and whenever any one would call to me that Jeff was trying to untie his chain, Jeff became that person's enemy for all time to come.
We had men to go ahead and mark the road at forks, placing brush or sticks across the road which we were not to take. We had difficulties, notwithstanding, for sometimes they were not very careful and often times it was too dark to see the object. I remember down near New Orleans one winter, that after climbing up a pole and burning matches to read the sign, it was discovered to read, "Get your shirts at Moody's New Orleans." This became a by-word with the boys afterward. Moody was certainly a great advertiser for those days. When on the prairie and we had nothing else with which to mark the road we would pull grass and stretch across the roads which we were not to take.
When I was in Java I would frequently go out to the Zoological Garden where there was a very large elephant confined with a chain. Even in that country the natives were not averse to making a dime, so they kept two or three barrels of cocoanuts on sale at five cents each, which people would buy to throw to the elephant. It was interesting to see how the elephant would get the milk and meat out of them. There was fastened around his front foot a very heavy chain. He would take the cocoanut in his trunk, crack it on the chain, and quick as a flash have it up to his mouth drinking the milk. After he had finished the milk he would drop the cocoanut on the ground and tramp lightly upon it with his foot to break away the white meat from the shell. There was very little of it left when he had finished.
On starting out from near Louisville one spring we were all very short of money. Gardner and I had to have some money and I remembered I had credit at a jewelry house in Cincinnati. Selling a pair of cuff buttons, three shirt studs and a collar button, all on one card was a new thing in those days so I sent up and bought a lot of them. I had a funny fellow with me by the name of Castella, who was a good salesman. He went out on the street corners and sold five to ten dollars worth every day, bring the money down to us in the evening, giving us a little go-along money. We needed it badly for W. E. Franklin told me years afterwards that I had remarked that Billie Gardner could not go into the dining room without his overcoat on as his trousers were not presentable.
I am told there are two bad payers in the world - one that pays in advance and one that never pays at all. I agree that paying in advance is a bad thing, because on one occasion I came near losing my life by so doing. After the show was out one night I called into a little restaurant near where they were loading the cars, to have a cup of coffee and a piece of pie, paying for it as soon as served. In the meantime the man whom I had paid had left to go over to his house to get some doughnuts, and while he was away I finished my coffee and pie and was walking out, when one of the men behind the counter asked me if I had paid for my coffee. I told him I had. He disputed it. I asked where the other man was, and said I would wait until he returned. I became annoyed at the idea of being held up there for a cup of coffee and started out. As I did so one of them hit me with a brick and the other shot me. I came near losing my life. On another occasion, when on the steamer leaving Melbourne, Joe Williams, one of the performers, and a calliope player whose name was Palmer, became involved in a misunderstanding. I foolishly stepped in between them to keep them from fighting, and Palmer in trying to shoot Williams shot me instead. I felt strange, after serving in the army where it was their business to shoot, and never being hit, to be shot twice afterward over a cup of coffee and while acting as peacemaker.
I often think of the old days when I see McIntyre and Heath playing the “Georgia Minstrels." Heath remarks to McIntyre when he takes from him the pocketbook he has found, "What business have you with money?" I guess that is what some of their acquaintances thought some years ago according to a story related to me by McIntyre. One day in San Francisco they informed him that one of the Daly Bros. was dead and invited him down to look at the corpse. On the way down they stopped at several saloons to wash down their grief and drown their sorrows, and by the time they brought McIntyre to the corpse he was pretty well filled up. They had the whole plan arranged for him. The lights were turned down, and in a coffin they had a fellow with big long whiskers. The crowd was weeping and groaning and expressing their sympathy, and as they led Jim up to take a last look he asserted, "That is not Daly." They said, "Yes it is." "Why," he says, "I know Daly. That is not him." By that time they had Jim's pocketbook and his watch and took Jim out of the room and back up town, stripped as clean as a chicken. I think this was about as strong a game as I have ever known any of them to work. I think they must have thought, as Heath says, "What business have you with money?" These two men are remarkable. They have been together for over forty years, and I hope they will live to enjoy their Jubilee.
Col. John Hopkins was a character. When it was announced that I had given a Soldiers' monument to Jefferson County, Indiana, he remarked that I ought to do some nice thing; that most of my life had been spent in passing silver three-cent pieces for dimes; that I paid a premium for them. My friends informed him they had told me what he had said. Next time we met and before I had said a word, he informed me it was Kohl he had said had changed three-cent pieces for dimes. Poor John has passed away. He was a good sport, handled prize fighters, had race horses and was always on hand when anything was going on. I heard him tell Keith in Boston one day, when he was showing him around the theater, that if ever he had money enough to build a theater like Mr. Keith's, he would put the money in his pocket instead and run down the road with it so fast that all one could see would be his coat tails flying in the dust.
I often think that the dime museum was responsible for a great many bad actors being turned loose in the country. It is a funny thing about a man going on the stage. It seems if you only work a half hour on the stage from that time on they are actors and that is their excuse through life for never doing a lick of work or earning their living. There is many a one who should go on the Theatrical Dump Pile.
Weber and Fields, who I think have made more people laugh than any two men in America, made their first appearance on the Dime Museum stage, 298 Bowery, during my ownership.
I read an admonition the other day not to be reminiscent; that it was a sign of old age. It is surely true, for how could a young person have anything to be reminiscent about? One surely must live longer than the milk age to get experience to tell about. It is like gray hair. Those who die young do not have it. Some say their's turned gray in one night from fright, etc. People usually admire gray hair on the other person. I have never seen a case of this quick change, except where it turned black, red or blonde in one night. These cases are frequent. The goods can be bought at any drug store.
In Chicago the other day, on my return home from visiting my friend, E. D. Stair, in Detroit, Michigan, I met John Ringling in the Congress Hotel. We were glad to see each other. Inquiry developed that we both were going to New Orleans, so I accepted John's kind invitation to go with him in his private car. Mrs. Ringling was one of the party and she told me about losing one of her pet black snakes at their winter home in Florida. It seems they had a bull dog, a present from Carl Hagenbeck, which was jealous of the pet black snake, and Mrs. Ringling had cautioned the dog several times to let the snake alone when it was lying on the porch. For a while there was no trouble, but one day she discovered Mr. Bull Dog coming up from under the house with the snake in his mouth. He had watched the first opportunity to get it alone and killed it. It was quite a loss to her because it kept the mice, rats and other vermin away from the house. When I arrived in New Orleans I did not see much change in the city. I made a record in New Orleans once. I was arrested there and locked up for about five minutes until the desk sergeant came and let me out. This was the only time I ever have been arrested. I may have deserved to be since but if I did they never got me. I am always a little sore on this city for when our tent blew down and was torn to pieces I went to New Orleans to get needles and threads and palms to sew the tent with, and the fellow down at the French Market loaded me up with left hand palms which no one could use unless he was left handed. I think he worked off the accumulation of years on me. However, I enjoyed the ride down to the city and the kind attentions of Mr. Ringling and his family.
At the dedication of the Middleton monument Friday, May 29th, Hon. Augustus E. Willson, Governor of Kentucky, spoke as follows:
Gov. Willson's Remarks
Soldiers of the Union, and guests who may have been upon the other side: we honor ourselves, our country, Indiana and Kentucky, and the old flag by meeting here today. The spirit manifest shows that this vast audience meets not for the purpose of business nor gain, but in every heart beats a love for the flag and what that statue stands for. The spirit which beat in George Middleton's heart has found expression in that monument. There is something in it no other community has. It speaks joy to the eye, inspiration to the heart, glory to our country. There is not another group in the land which has so much life, hope and faith in it. Pilgrimages will be made to this city in the future to see it. It is a proper appreciation of this good old county of Jefferson and splendid City of Madison. No county in the land has a patriotic record which exceeds that of this county of Jefferson. Patriotism stirred the hearts of its people and it sent 5000 soldiers to the Union Army. I heard a woman say today: "I came from Kentucky and it is the best State in the Union." Another woman spoke up and said: "I am from Indiana and there is no better State." A third woman then remarked: "We are all from the United States and it is the best country in the world." That is the sentiment for us all. It is patriotism, the spirit which prompted Middleton to build this monument, and prompts your presence here today to see it dedicated. Every boy shall look upon it as something sacred and imperishable, typifying loyalty to country and duty.
I wish to say something to you of loyalty to those whom you place in office and power. At the recent conference of Governors some one objected to their repetition on the ground that some future President might take advantage of it. Another said: " We have never had a President whom we could not trust; every one has been a clean, upright, honest executive." In an election you fight hard in Indiana and sometimes we fight in Kentucky. But when a President is elected he is entitled to the support of the whole American people. Let us be loyal to our officials, to our country and to each other.
I have brought over here today the First Regiment of Kentucky. I have great pride in it, and the Colonel who rode so erect, handsome and manly at their head followed John Morgan into Indiana in 1863. The Colonel asked me to tell you that the other time he rode to Madison every man seemed to get a gun or a hatchet and come out to meet him. He says he likes the welcome you gave him today better than that of 1863. I congratulate you on the spirit of patriotism shown today, and I bear you a greeting from Kentucky and our soldiers. We have with us today the soldiers of the United States, the soldiers of Indiana and Kentucky. They are all ours. All our boys. Take that into your hearts. There is not in the hearts of those men any desire to oppress you. They are our boys. We build a monument in our hearts to these boys as beautiful as this superb one of bronze and granite to the soldiers of the Union.
Captain W. E. Ketcham's Remarks
This magnificent demonstration is worthy of this splendid spectacle of Kentucky standing side by side with Indiana. We are proud to have Kentucky's Governor, the Kentucky regiment and Colonel William B. Haldeman who was with John Morgan here today. We tried to give him a warm welcome in 1863. We hope he will come again and often. While he was riding with John Morgan over Indiana there were Indiana boys at the same time riding over Kentucky - so honors are easy.
It is fitting this splendid monument should be erected here to remain forever as a symbol of the patriotism of the men of 1861. Comrade Middleton, when life was young and sweet, turned his back on aspirations and ambitions and gave his all to his country. Successful as he has been he never used his heart, brain and pocketbook to a better purpose than when he built this monument. In summer rain and winter sleet it will always tell the story of a nation redeemed, a country saved, of men made free by the idea typified. As children go to school, as men pass by, as women go on their way, looking upon it, their minds will go back to the fierce furnace heat of war, and they will thank the generous donor for it.
Where could there be a more fitting place for a soldiers' monument than here, in this county named after Jefferson, the creator of the constitution; than here in Madison, nestling down amongst her beautiful hills? These people did not wait for the enemy to come to them but went out to meet the enemy at the front. The Sixth, 13th, 19th, 22nd, 39th, 45th, 82nd - the roll is too long to call - fifty organizations went out from Jefferson county to do battle for the country. This superb monument fitly commemorates what they went forth for. As we look upon it let us be inspired, in other ways, and methods and different fields, to remember to do for our country as the boys of 1861.
Address By Mr. Middleton
Fellow Citizens:
In erecting this monument designed to perpetuate the memory of soldiers whose nobility of purpose and unflinching bravery has never been doubted, I enjoy a privilege and an honor of which I am deeply conscious.
In presenting you with the result of prolonged and sincere efforts to secure a permanent, dignified and impressive emblem of respect for the fearless soldiery of Jefferson county, I become your debtor in that you have encouraged me to assume the initiative in a labor of love which some other of our citizens might have performed with greater distinction. I am, indeed, deeply sensible of the honor which springs from association with a cause that appeals to every patriotic heart - a cause involving not only love of country but a fixed sentiment of deep and abiding regard for those who, arms in hand, have risked life, or have gone down to a glorious death, for that country.
Standing here in such a distinguished presence on this, to me, most momentous occasion when the dream of years is at last realized, the one regret shadowing the hour is that our purpose of honoring the living and the dead was not accomplished sooner - that this soldiers' monument was not completed years ago when many of our comrades who have gone over to the silent majority might have been with us to join reverently, but with the enthusiasm of true soldiers, in proclaiming this monument sacred, for all time, to the memory of the men who went from this county during the Civil War to fight for the preservation of the Union. It is my sincere belief that no monument was ever erected to braver or more manly men than those who volunteered from Jefferson County, Indiana, to support the belief that the Federation of States established by the Revolutionary fathers should not be dissolved but must be forever maintained. What other heroes of every historic war have done in suffering, enduring and dying for a cherished cause they did, nobly, within the limits of their opportunities. Offering their lives for the preservation of freedom and justice to all men who appealed to the stars and stripes for protection, they deserve all honor that has been ascribed to the more famous soldiers of the world. If their names are not enrolled upon the blazing tablets of military glory for all the people of earth to look upon, they are enshrined incur hearts as we dedicate this enduring memorial of their heroic deeds.
To this county bearing the name of Jefferson, a distinguished President, and to this city named for Madison, another great chief executive of the United States, I present and commit this soldiers' monument as a sacred trust. Guard it well in memory of those for whom it has been erected. Guard it well that your children and children's children, may be inspired to patriotism by this silent but eloquent reminder of times that tried men's souls in the dark days of '61 - of the days when the marching hosts of this great Republic cemented with their blood the Union of States and established forever the principle proclaimed by the immortal Lincoln that "this government of the people, by the people, and for the people shall never perish from the earth."
It was always my good fortune to be associated with fine gentlemen which made business with them pleasant as well as profitable. A nice combination: J. A. Bailey, C. E. Kohl, G. Castle, E. D. Stair, J. H. Havlin, J. J. Murdock, M. Beck, M. Meyerfeld, Jr., Paul Keith, E. B. Albee, B. F. Keith, M. C. Anderson, F. Tate. All starting at the bottom, getting to the top and remaining there. In leaving them I have nothing but the best wishes for their happiness and deserved success and will never forget their many kindnesses to me, and here in California where I have settled to enjoy the beautiful scenery, the fragrance of the many roses, plants and flowers, and climate, I will enjoy their success as much as if I was still interested with them.
On November 12, 1910, Chas. E. Kohl, my former partner and friend for twenty-eight years, died. He was a remarkable man, honest to a penny, untiring worker, a great organizer and would have been successful in any business undertaking; to start when he did and reach the top of the ladder and remain there, bears out all that can be said of him.
A small word with a wealth of meaning. How lucky to have known in one small life a friend. The memories of my good friend Chas. E. Kohl have been a solace to me so often in the last three years. I recall this friendship with the deepest feeling, his strength of character was colossal, ambitious, charitable and faithful. I count myself the luckiest of men to have known this noble character for so many years. The contact planted a seed that has grown into reverence.
Many years ago, as I mentioned, I had been to Java, Australia, Tasmania, New Zealand, South America, and with my friend Mr. Henry Cutter of Chicago I made a trip to England, Germany, and France which I enjoyed very much. Mrs. Middleton never having been abroad we decided to go to Europe and after being over there during the winter decided to go around the world, so away we went via India, China, Japan, Hawaii, landing in San Francisco after a very pleasant trip. So I find only a few remaining places for me to see which some day I may.
When passing through San Jose, Cal., I called on Col. W. B. Hardy to renew an acquaintance made with him during the war in Virginia when I was one of a squad under then Lieut. George A. Custer at Hardy's capture. We had a pleasant chat. He spoke feelingly of General Custer's death at the battle of the Little Big Horn River, where the whole command was killed by the Indians.
I have been divorced twice and married three times. Paid each time for my freedom and while it cost me much money, in fact a fortune, I am pleased and consider I got off cheaply. I cannot understand the stand the Catholic Church takes against divorce. Priests cannot act intelligently as they never marry and have no experience. In my present wife, Ruth K. Middleton, I have a jewel in all the word implies, and congratulate myself often for venturing out on the Sea of Matrimony the third time, proving the old saying is true that the third time charms.
Sells Floto Show came along the other day under the management of Mr. Fred Hutchinson, whom I have known ever since his childhood days, he being a nephew of Mrs. James A. Bailey and brought up in the Bailey school than which there was none better. He showed me a wagon with a patent hoister to load the tents on the wagon by rolling it on like you would roll up an awning. Also a patent device that holds the stringers without toe pins and many other labor saving devices. The show on the whole was well managed. Nice clean performance. We spent a pleasant day with Mr. Hutchinson and his family, enjoying a nice dinner in the cook tent, reminding me of old times.
My old friend Robt. Stickney the equestrian director of the show, was a delight to see, happy smiling face, young heart, the same old Bob, time has dealt so kindly with him. He was the handsomest, best groomed man I ever knew and a finished artist when he appeared in the ring to ride - you never forget the man or his work. In all my experience he was one of the best in his specialty I ever saw and there is no one to take his place.
His wife and charming graceful daughter work together like sisters, each true artists. I want to add here that family life with circus people is very smooth, there are not the small, petty things to meet in a domestic way. The circus woman remains younger than other women, happier, freer from cares they are the most virtuous women always, being chaperoned by their parents or older relatives. Circus children speak many languages, have their books and toys, enjoying a happy and practical childhood gathering a great deal of education by travel and contact.
Mrs. Hutchinson and their charming little daughter were traveling with the circus, in their private car, a comfortable home on wheels. We went to the circus lot about 7:30 a. m. remaining all day for both performances, and saw the tent go down at night, having dined in the cook tent. The ranges are built in large wagons, every thing so orderly each article has its place, and is in its place. One can get a very good lesson in order around a circus. The food is delicious, good, wholesome food. Soup, steak, potatoes, salad, bread, celery, ice cream, cake and coffee was the evening menu. We finished a full and delightful day having studied the different performers, their contented faces left a pleasant and lasting impression of circus life.
While in Denver this summer, 1913, we attended the Ringling Brothers Circus in company with Otto Floto and his charming wife, in fact we were on hand for afternoon and night performances, as well as on the street to see the parade. I could not help thinking how different the show was from the first one I was with in Denver; we were lighted up with candles. But no change in the ginger cakes, lemonade or peanuts and never will be, this seems to be part of the circus.
I had some brothers named Berriman working for me one season in charge of the outside candy stands. They had tall glasses filled up with red lemonade. Along came a party of about eight elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. Berriman tapping on the glasses called to them to come running, come hopping, and get the red lemonade and they just for the fun did as he called them to do, drank their lemonade and on their way they said it was not dignified, but it was all circus.
A large, comfortable tent resting on a green, grassy lawn, entrance like a reception hall, with large tables on which rest the ladies hats and wraps. Let me add this tent is double, gentlemen on one side, ladies the other, tables on each side, gent's hats and trappings on one side, ladies' on the other. Performers have their trunks numbered, they are placed in rotation. They have a small rug, folding chair, small mirror, all the toilet articles known to one set. Their hair is dressed in fashion's latest twist, each lady wore a kimono or dressing robe, while making her toilet. Modest, clean, happy chatty women, mothers with two or three grown daughers, you would be unable to guess the mother. While I took a seat to study and enjoy my new friends I heard every known tongue. It seemed good to be a woman, I felt so near to my new acquaintances, they were so human to each other, one large and happy family, living useful lives.
The bell rang, which was the signal for the "Grand Entry." I hurried on to take my seat, to recognize my new friends as they passed by; there was such warmth of feeling in their happy smiles as they bowed, leaving much food for thought in my busy brain to feed upon for years to come.
Mrs. Geo. Middleton
It has always been my good fortune to enjoy every known out-door sport. I am a great believer in a complete diversion from business cares (and I might add domestic). From early youth hunting has been my chief passion - deer hunting in Indian Territory, prairie chickens in Dakota, wild ducks in Manitoba, kangaroos in Australia, and quail here in California have offered a great deal of pleasure for me. Trap shooting I consider a great science and a wonderful training for the eye. It is a clean, gentlemanly sport, always enjoyed by high-class gentlemen.
Another delightful sport that it has been my pleasure to know was cruising and racing on Lake Michigan on my yacht Charlotte R., a comfortable craft accommodating fifteen people. I passed many a pleasant week-end aboard her, and sailed a few good races each season, adding spice to the sport.
Horses and dogs have always given me a great deal of pleasure. The horse, the most noble animal in the world, I think, is the most abused. Throughout my life I have known the faithfulness and fidelity of most every known breed of dog. A boy who has grown up not knowing the love of animals has missed a great deal in his youth.
Golf has offered a great field of diversion and pleasure for me for a great many years. It is a pleasant and fascinating out-door game.
I am not surprised at the hold the game of baseball has taken on the American people. It is being played all over the world. When I was in Japan a few years ago I was surprised to see the Japanese teams and their enthusiasm in the game. To become a good player it is necessary to be skillful mentally as well as physically. It is truly American.
Here ends my notes, as I have never kept a diary or a line in my life. It has been a queer and pleasant sensation to cast an attentive look behind into the calendar of my mind after a long and successful He. What a vast number of events disappear in a life without leaving a trace; age modifies and changes the nature of our impressions but nevertheless does not blot them out.
Kind friend and reader, it is delicate to write of one's self; my friends have asked for my circus memoirs, and as you follow with me through the experiences I hope you enjoy them as much as I do to pass them on to you.
I wish it understood that this book was not written to fill a long-felt want, and I do not expect it to be one of the six best sellers.
CHS webmaster J. Griffin, last modified June 2006.