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Advertising Cars Properties Parade & Program Day-by-Day Details
From: With the Circus. A Route Book of Ringling Bros. World’s Greatest Railroad Shows, Seasons of 1895 and 1896, St. Louis: Great Western Printing Co. By Alf T. Ringling. Performers, program, and detailed day-by-day route. Permission to place the information from this route book on the Circus Historical Society website has been provided by Feld Entertainment, Inc.™, Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey™. Circus World Museum's Parkinson Library provided the photocopy of this route book. All information should be checked with additional sources. There will be spelling and typographical errors.
The first route book ever gotten up that deviated from the beaten track was the Ringling Bros.’ book of 1893, which, besides a chronicle of the season’ events contained portraits and sketches of the agents, superintendents, proprietors, performers and musicians. This was not, however, the first good route book gotten up, for in 1892, Mr. O. Kurtz, the juggler, published a volume, which, for originality and quaint literary style will ever be remembered by those who were fortunate enough to secure a copy.
The Ringling Route book of 1893 established a pattern, which in 1894 was largely copied by other shows, but during this season the Ringling Bros.’ boo, under the title of “Beneath White Tents” so far eclipsed everything of this nature and made such an impression on the writers of current circus history that some of its article have been two years later made use of by parasitical compilers for borrowing their style and wording under the guise of parodies. Imitation is, however, the “sincerest flattery” even when “without apologies” is expressly stipulated.
The matter contained withing these pages has been compiled from various sources. The route of 1895 was written by Mr. Barry Gray and that of 1896 by Mr. Wm. Van Cleave, while there is a special article from the pen of Mr. W. D. Coxey, and one by Mr. Warren A. Patrick. The balance I have written during a few of the leisure moments that fall to the circus man’s lot, and when the spirit moved. - Alf. T. Ringling
If you were to ask a number of followers of the white tents how those mammoth cloth houses, those imposing seas of undulating canvas, those magic cities of filmy white, with their many spires and fluttering flags and pennants, their steeple-like peaks, and imposing architecture of no particular order, either ancient or modern - I say if you were to ask a hundred of those who live beneath these mammoth domes of the modern hippodrome and menagerie how the great task of daily putting up and taking down these intricate combinations of poles, rope and canvas is accomplished, ninety-nine out of the number would be unable to explain the modus operandi.
The bandman could tell you all about quavers and semi-quavers, fortes, bars, pianissimos and the like; the performer could regale you with descriptions of his intricate evolutions in the ring or air; and eight or ten-horse driver might tell you how he could rein his string of prancing steeds from the top of a fourteen-feet high seat on a band chariot, and just under which thumb or finger each ribbon had to be passed, but non of these could say how the big tents are erected.
To put up the tents is distinctively the boss canvasman’s business and he and a few of his assistants could perhaps explain the manner in which the work is done. It is a tremendous system by which he and his several hundred employees work, and there are a thousand details that have to be gone over day after day during the traveling season. It would be impossible to chronicle all of these, yet a description of the principal ones will serve to give an idea of the work.
In the principal of its construction every large tent is what is called a round-top, and if it is oblong when erected, sections which are known as middle-pieces have been laced in between the two half circles composing the round-top. The boss canvasman receives his instructions every evening as to the size of canvas the management considers adequate for the accommodation of the crowds in the next day’s stand. So when the show arrives on its numerous trains, early in the morning, while the dew is still on the grass, the boss canvasman with a number of assistants makes for the show grounds. Hundreds of small iron pins two to three feet in length are carried along. Arrived at the grounds the boss canvasman first takes his map furnished him by the contracting agent, who arranged for the grounds weeks ago, and scans it carefully to see that he gets the true dimensions and boundaries. Then with a practiced eye he lays the entire lot out in his mind and as soon as he has decided where every one of the eighteen to twenty tents is to go he and his assistants proceed to “lay out the lot.” Laying out the lot consists of locating every pole, every stake and every piece of canvas. The center-poles are first located, and at each point where a pole is to be raised and iron pin, from which a ribbon flutters, is stuck in the ground. Busy hands with tape-lines run hither and thither from these common centers measuring the distance to the outside stakes and indicate with the little iron layout pins where the stakes are to be driven. White ribbons flutter from the layout pins indicating where the center-poles are to go, red ones from those showing the locations of the main guy ropes, or the ropes that hold the center-poles in the air, while blue ones show where each stake is to be driven.
As soon as all of the layout pins are in position the work of driving the stakes, raising the center-poles and spreading the canvas is begun the layout pins forming on the green sod a trestle-board by which to proceed, and as soon as these are in place wagons bearing the necessary material for proceeding further begin to arrive, the heavy loads being drawn by six and eight-horse teams.
The stake and chain wagons are usually the first to arrive and a detachment of the sledge-gang at once proceed to unload the stakes and convey them on wheelbarrows to the different parts of the grounds leaving a stake at each layout pin. Detachments of stake-drivers with heavy sledges folbw these, driving the stakes into the ground, six or nine working at one stake simultaneously. These work with the precision of automatons, one sledge-stroke following that of the next by a fraction of a second, all the sledges constantly swinging, and yet it seldom happens that one is caught by its successor, a remarkable performance when it is considered that the strokes come with a rapidity that sounds like a stick scraped along a picket fence. In a very short space of time a forest of iron-bound stakes rear their heads in every direction.
In the meantime the pole and canvas wagons have arrived and been unloaded. Big bales of canvas litter the ground and to one unaccustomed to the scene chaos would appear to reign. Not so, however, with the boss canvasman. He stations himself in the center of the grounds and begins giving orders at a speed that would bewilder any other mortal. Hundreds of men fly hither and thither at his commands and, Presto! poles rear skyward, acres of canvas undulate upon the grounds, ropes sway from point to point and like magic a white city of tents rears its many cloth domes heavenward. But it is not done so easily perhaps as it can be said. No one knows this better than Mr. John Snellen, the superintendent of this department with the World’s Greatest Shows. The big poles have to be raised, the tents laced together at the seams, before things can assume shape. The former is done by twenty-five or thirty employes placing their shoulders under a center-pole at the point, allowing the base to remain on the ground, and walking toward the same until the apex is twelve to fifteen feet above the ground. From the top of the poles three large ropes several hundred feet in length extend in three directions with the pole as a common center. Near the ends of two of these ropes stand men who cast the ropes around stakes while the rope, running in the direction to which the pole is to ascend, is held by forty or more employes who walk out with it while the others gradually slacken their ropes as the pole ascends.
During the erection of the poles the canvas is being spread out upon the ground and laced together, the side poles placed in the pockets at the eaves of the tent, the side walls attached, and the ropes from each side pole tied by a half-hitch to the stakes flanking the entire.
Everything being in readiness for raising the side poles the canvasmen station themselves at their respective places and at a given signal each man raises a pole and in a moment the hundreds of feet of sidewall are up. Others now quickly gather at the center poles and by means of pulleys raise the tent at the places where it is joined to the center-poles by bale-rings, several feet. As soon as the tent is raised high enough a rope is run from the pulleys to horses who, by this means, pull the peaks up to the desired height.
The next thing to be done is to raise the quarter-poles. These are the poles that support the tent between the center-poles and the side poles. In the big circus tent there are two sets of these, but in the menagerie and other tents only one set. These big pillars which must support the huge cloth roof are furnished at the top with a shoulder. For each one of the poles there is a leather bound hole in the tent through which the point of the pole can pass up to the shoulder. The point of each pole is inserted to the shoulder. Then a team of horses are hitched to the bottom of the pole by means of a rope loop and by driving the team in the direction of the grummet hole in the canvas the pole is brought into a perpendicular position thus forcing the canvas to its full height.
As soon as everything is in shape the tents are “guyed out.” This consists in tightening all the ropes that hold up the big tents to a proper tension. If it is not properly done the canvas will be wrinkled, but if correctly attended to and there have been no mistakes in laying out or other parts of the work the big cloth houses will be stretched over the forest of poles as tightly and smoothly as a drumhead.
The making of the rings in which the performances are to take place, the erection of the seats and many other details must now be gone over in order that everything may be in readiness when the doors to the big show are opened. All of these operations require skill and experience, but space will not permit a description of these departments.
The taking down of the tents at night after they have served their purpose is even more expeditiously accomplished than the erection of them, and it often occurs that within less than an hour after the big show, is out the last center-pole is loaded and everything is on the wagons ready to go to the railroad cars. By the time the big show is out, however, all the other tents have been taken down, loaded on the wagons and these hauled to the cars. The horse tents, dining and cooking tents, blacksmith, repair, harness and other smaller tents are taken down between the hours of six and seven. The side show tent is lowered shortly after eight and promptly at nine o’clock the menagerie is closed up, the cages and animals taken to the cars and the tent lowered so that by ten o’clock there is nothing left standing but the big circus tent and the dressing room. As soon as the big show is over the crowd remaining to the concert is ushered into the reserved seats and the common seats are removed and loaded upon wagons. Before the concert is over the quarter-poles, with the exception of those in front of the audience, are taken out, so that by the time the concert is over there is nothing left standing but the center-poles, side poles, top and stakes. As soon as the concert is concluded the boss canvasman blows a whistle and employes who have aleady loosened the ropes that hold the side-wall, pull the wall down and roll it into huge bundles ready for loading. The lights are lowered, the ropes holding the canvas to the center poles are loosened and the big tent with a mighty sigh falls to the ground. Nimble fingers undo the lacings that hold the different sections of the big tent together, others roll the sections up into big bales, while still others load them into the wagons. The center-poles are lowered by almost the same operations employed in erecting them, but performed in a reverse manner. The last thing done is to pull the stakes. For this purpose a contrivance known as a stake-puller is used. It consists of an axle, two low wheels, a reach or tongue and a heavy chain at the end. This chain is thrown around a stake and held taut by one man while others bear down on the tongue, which, acting as a lever, readily brings the stake up. When the last stake is pulled and loaded there are usually not more than three or four wagons left on the lot and the day’s work is done - for the canvasmen.
Loading the show and unloading it every day during the season, except Sunday, when unloading only is the rule, is no easy task, yet like the work of every other department of a big show it is readily accomplished by being systematized and under thorough and intelligent supervision.
Mr. Robert Taylor is the superintendent of this part of the daily routine of the World’s Greatest Shows. To one unaccustomed to the task it would prove a stunner if he were shown several hundred wagons, cages, dens, chariots and other vehicles, aggregating every foot of flat-car surface among some sixty long cars, and then were told that his duty would be to see that these were loaded and unloaded each day. Experience, however, and natural ability have qualified Mr. Taylor for this task, and he goes about it in a manner that shows he is not likely to be overcome by the immensity of the proposition. He has, long before the season opened, measured each car and planned each wagon to go on a certain part of each car. He has figured on the purpose for which each wagon is to be used, and in what order it will be wanted on the show grounds, so that when the day arrives for loading the aggregation and each subsequent day during the season he knows for instance just when and where wagon number forty-seven or twenty-three is to go on car number fifty-four, or whatever the number of cars or wagons may be.
The first thing to be done when the show arrives in town on its long trains would be to arrange for track and yard room and a place to unload. The tremendous size of the World’s Greatest Shows makes it necessary, however, to make these arrangements a day ahead of the arrival, for sixty cars, of the length used by the show, often tax the limits of the railroad yards. So an agent precedes the show one day who arranges these matters, as well as other details, and when the first section of the show trains arrives there is a place at a convenient crossing to unload. The master of transportation tells the trainmen just which cars to switch into position and the unloading is begun at once. Two heavy planks made of wood and iron are extended from the end of one of the flat cars to the ground. Two men known as “polers” grasp the tongue of the first wagon to guide it while a team of horses at the end of a long rope pulls the wagon until the front wheels rest upon the two heavy planks called “runs.” To prevent the wagon from going too rapidly a rope is attached to a ring at the rear and this rope is wound about a steel shaft, which is anchored in an iron socket at the side of the car. A man holding this rope allows it to recede from his hands just enough to let the wagon roll down the runs without going too fast, and just as the front wheels touch the ground, he releases the rope entirely and the momentum is sufficient to carry the wagon into the street where it is guided by the “polers.” Every wagon is unloaded in this way and in a surprisingly short space of time a train of cars is empty, switched to a side track and another train in its place. Whenever there is sufficient room for doing so two runs are operated at one time.
The loading of the show is of quite as much interest as the unloading. This work is begun as early as possible in the evening. Many of the parade wagons and chariots, being used only for this feature of the show, are loaded in the afternoon, while the cook house wagons and those used for carrying the stables, the side show, menagerie and other vehicles, including the cages and dens are on the train even before the night performance is concluded.
To pull a wagon upon the cars the same runs used in unloading are brought into requisition, and for bringing the heavy wagons up the steep incline a pulley is used to which a team of horses are hitched. The cars being specially built for the purpose, the wheels run over a track which extends over the entire surface of the flat cars, and is made continuous by heavy steel plates, which bridge the spaces between the cars. Upon this track the heaviest wagon is easily pulled by a single team, who walk along side of the train at the end of a rope, which is attached to the wagon, the polers at the same time steering by the tongue. As soon as a wagon is in place it is made secure by means of wooden locks, which fasten to the cars by steel points and fit snugly into the wheels. It is very seldom that the midnight hour arrives before every car is loaded, and by this time the trains are almost invariably ready to pull out for the next stand.
Of all the integral parts of a circus outfit the ticket wagon is perhaps the most interesting. It undoubtedly plays the most important part, and may be said to be to the circus what the heart is to the human system. The success of a circus, as well as that of any other amusement organization, depends upon the ability of the management to dispose of tickets of admission. As the tickets for the circus are sold at the ticket wagon it is but natural that the wagon should be the center of attraction for the eyes of all - from the proprietors to the working men - as well as to the thousands upon thousands of amusement seekers who relish attending this typically American form of entertainment - the circus.
To detail the duties of those employed in the ticket wagon would require more space than I am allowed at this time. Suffice it to say that all the financial business necessary for the carrying on of the circus is transacted at the ticket wagon. Life in the ticket wagon has its pleasant as well as its unpleasant sides. There is a certain fascination connected with it that is quite irresistible. It is a pleasure to wake up in the morning and, after partaking of a well prepared breakfast in the dining car, to wend your way out to the “lot,” while doing so to note your surroundings, ever changing; after opening the ticket wagon and getting things in readiness for the day’s business, to watch the departure of the “grand, glittering, free street parade,” and to listen to the pipings of the calliope bringing up the rear; to witness the mighty rush for “cards” of admission and to help gather in a goodly harvest of the shiny shekels of the realm; to study the thousands of faces that go to make up the surging crowds; after the rush is over and the circus started, to listen to the sweet, sweet strains of music which now and then steal through the openings of the “big top”; to listen to the regular afternoon overture of the side show band; to hear the festive feed or bill-board man say, upon receiving pay for bills rendered, “Some more ‘free silver,’ eh?” These things are some of the pleasant experiences one enjoys in the ticket wagon. Then, of course, there are some unpleasant things. It matters not how late the circus may arrive in town there is just so much work to be done in the wagon and frequently ten hours’ labor is necessarily crowded into three. But then - taking the bitter with the sweet - life in the ticket wagon is not the most unpleasant in the world, and is, in fact, quite different than most people imagine. The ticket wagon is a great place for the study of human nature and Mr. Vogt, our worthy treasurer, and myself have beguiled many a quiet hour in discussing the various phases of human nature we encounter, and then the constant daily changes of scene and the thousands of new faces we see every day, and there’s a funny thing about this, too, for, whereas faces all seem new ones from day to day for the first few days, one gradually comes to look upon them all as the same. In other words the distinctive features merge into a combination and all crowds come to look very much alike. It has been my pleasure to have been connected with the ticket wagon of Ringling Bros.’ World’s Greatest Shows during the seasons of ’95 and ’96 and I have had some novel experiences, chief among them I think is the one Mr. Vogt and I had at Paducah, Ky., Thursday, October 17, 1895.
Paducah is a thriving Kentucky town. It is a great town for legal gentlemen. There are three States in the Union noted for “law” - Kentucky, Tennessee and Arkansas. It was but natural, therefore, that Paducah should uphold the reputation of Kentucky in the matter of “law.” It’s a very cold and disagreeable day when a sheriff, a county or city official in these three States can not rake up some technicality in the “law” whereby a circus can be made to “cough up,” as it were. A Paducah judge and two attorneys made up their minds to “shake-down” our show, and it may be said (alack the day!) that they were successful in their purpose. Mr. Vogt and myself were serenely selling tickets for the night show-when at about the hour of 8:30 o’clock we were shocked to find staring us in the face two large “Colts” in the hands of a couple of constables, who politely(?) though firmly requested us to accompany them to the local “bastile.” They had us foul, there being no way of escape out of the ticket wagon, and we wisely, though sadly, did the constables’ bidding (after closing things up for the day) and wended our way towards the “prison place,” accompanied by a body guard of seven tried and true guardians of the peace of the commonwealth of “Old Kentuck.” I had never been placed under arrest before in my life and imagine, if you can, my feelings as the jail loomed up in sight. I felt as Monte Cristo must have felt when he was thrust in a dungeon without the knowledge of even having committed a crime. I felt like a criminal about to receive the sentence of death, and if I am correctly informed, I certainly “looked the part.” Visions of beautiful society girls weeping over our misfortune, of tons and tons of exquisite flowers and bon bons piled up in the jail corridors sent to us by the “fair” ones, the breathless interest and hushed attention showed us in the crowded court room, our pictures in the Police Gazette and the Paducah News, society outraged and long-winded petitions from the good mothers of our land, the triumph of justice, our final acquittal, the glad shouts of the populace as they saw us once more breathing the air of liberty - these things rushed through my mind with lightning rapidity, when I was rudely awakened from my reverie by hearing the officer say that our cases would be attended to at once at Judge So-and-So’s office. We found the judge to be a man very fond of referring continually to the “law,” and after a moment’s study of his make-up we made up our minds that whatever we were charged with and convicted of doing we would be apt to get the “full limit.” We were charged with aiding, abetting, giving an exhibition without a license. Of course we had our license (or rather we had one in the ticket wagon), but then, you see, to prove it to these people it would have been necessary for us to stay there and produce the requisite paper, giving us the privilege of exhibiting at Paducah, at a trial which the judge proposed to hold the next Friday. They would not give us an immediate hearing and wanted a bond of five hundred dollars each. In case of conviction for the offense of showing without a license a fine not less than fifty and not more than one thousand dollars can be levied; but that cut no figure. It was the impossibility of our staying over to fight for our rights, and so after a deal of parleying, and largely through the kindly intervention of a friendly citizen, we compromised the matter by paying over to our legal friends one hundred and fifty “samolions.”
After shaking us down in this shameful and bold faced manner we were politely invited to step over to a neighboring bar-room and take a drink. Need it be said that we refused? One thing that I shall not soon forget in connection with our little “siesta” in that judge’s office was a heroic effort on the part of my friend, Billy Vogt, to soften the hearts of those blood-sucking lawyers. He stood there like Othello before the Senate and pleaded our cases in a manner worthy of the Moor. Ah! it was a grand sight, but alas, his words were in vain, and they “soaked” us just the same.
There are four special advertising cars run by the Ringling Bros. and the glimpses of life one gets from a window of one of them are not exactly the same as one gets from a Pullman or even a day coach. The gorgeously-colored advertising car, with its gay lettering or many-hued pictures, is the cynosure of eyes innumerable, and even the denizens of the car come in for a share of the attention it attracts. There is no glamour on the inside of the car - not a bit of it - but to the outside crowd it is a glimpse of another world - an epitome of the strange, unknown, tinsel-covered world in the big show itself. The town youth gazes at the paste-bespattered bill-poster with wonder and is just as assiduous in offering his services to “peddle” bills or to carry water for the paste cans as he will be to “tote” water for the elephants’ insatiable thirst on show day. The town girl comes down with her best young man to take a look at the circus car and to make the susceptible heart of the bill-poster flutter; and the inevitable Know-It-All recalls the fact, to an admiring group on the platform that he “uster know th’ ‘boys’ when they had a wagon show.” If the car arrives early in the evening there is always a committee of leading citizens to receive it - without premeditation on their part, of course - and the next morning, bright and early, a large percentage of the town boy will be on hand to make himself “agreeable” to the manager and the bill-poster, and to keep himself in evidence during the day.
If the advertising car happens to get to town sometime between midnight and early dawn - as not infrequently occurs - one of the town fiends who never sleep, and who have nothing on earth to do except to make the rest of the world uncomfortable - is sure to be on hand to give the car a welcome - to recite the name of the show in a fog-horn voice that would arouse the Angel Gabriel, and to give the brakeman a history of the circus, with a persistent regard for details that would give the fabulous Seven Sleepers the fidgets. Then he finds a crony and sits down on a pile of ties immediately under the manager’s window, and tells all he knows - and a lot he doesn’t know - about shows in general, and “Ringler” Bros.’, show in particular; and just about the time the manager has got thoroughly awake, and has worked himself into a frenzy, and the usually mild-mannered porter has lost his temper and is prepared to do murder, the unconscionable disturbers of the bill-posters’ nocturnal repose shuffle away; and then daylight comes, and the gong sounds, and the “gang” is out of bed, getting ready for breakfast and swearing blue streaks at the town fiends for curtailing their matutinal nap.
The brakeman also takes an absorbing interest in the advertising cars - not any particular brakeman - but the brakeman in general. When an advertising car is attached to a passenger train en route the brakeman is very much in evidence. He likes to linger among the bright-colored lithographs, and ask questions about the show, and where it has been, and where it is going to be; and whether the show will go south for the winter - and - what the chances are for getting a “comp.” Curiously enough, all the questions invariably lead up to this point. This is always the focus of a brakeman’s inquiries when an advertising car is on his train. The reasons he gives for being entitled to a free ticket are legion. For, mark you, the brakeman never asks for a pass as a favor. Not much. It is a right. He hauled the car last season; or he “broke” with the crew that handled the circus last spring; or he knows one of the proprietors by sight.
The brakeman is a vindictive man. When the free ticket doesn’t materialize, blood gathers in both eyes. He goes away mad, and the manager prepares for trouble. The brakeman waits until the car has reached its destination, and the train is pushing it down on a siding, where it is to stand the following day. Then he waves his hand to the engineer, and the engineer opens the throttle, and the train backs down like a shot from a dynamite gun, and the advertising car jams into a freight, and smashes a drawbar and disorganizes things generally. Then the train pulls out, and the brakeman stands on the rear platform with a diabolical smile on his face and the light of a sweet revenge in his eyes; and the manager goes out, swearing, and wishing with a deadly wish that all brakemen were in Tophet.
It is the crew of a switching engine, however, that gets the most fun out of an advertising car. There is nothing like a circus advertising car for furious sport when the crew of a switch engine is in the proper humor. That is when the switchman is in his element. Even the engine seems to enter into the spirit of the thing. It pushes, and backs, and shoves, and strains at the couplings, and makes kindling wood out of the platforms, and pulls links out of chains, and rattles things out of the bunks, and gives the long-suffering manager vertigo. And, after the engine - actively aided and abetted by the switchman, the fireman, and the engineer - has accomplished all this to its satisfaction and their’s - the switchman is appointed a committee of one to “brace” the manager for “comps” for “handling the car.” It is then that the manager has his revenge.
An advertising car is presumed to devote the same period of time in each town as the show. There are only about six or seven cities in the United States where a big circus like the World’s Greatest Shows can exhibit for a week with profit, and hardly so many where two days can be made pecuniarily successful. Consequently, during the greater part of the season, the advertising cars, like the show, “make” a town every day during the week. An effort is made to arrive in the next day’s town during the night in order that the men who are to drive into the country to decorate the walls and fences of the trustful farmer with circus pictures, can get an early start. From forty to sixty miles a day is the average drive for the country “billers,” and the posting of five hundred sheets of paper along the route is not considered an extraordinary day’s work for a good man, although three hundred is the average. In order to thoroughly “bill” the country around the city where the show is to exhibit four to seven two-horse wagons are required. The teams are hired in each town, and each wagon has a driver and one or two bill-posters. The bill-posters are instructed to return in time to leave on the car when it departs for the next stand, whenever it is practicable to do so. If, owing to the arrangement of the railway schedules, the car has to leave at an early hour in the afternoon, the men who go into the country are given transportation, and instructed to take the first train on their return and rejoin the advertising car in the next town. The posting in the place where the show is to exhibit is done by the “town gang,” under the immediate supervision of the boss bill-poster. The “town gang” covers from six hundred to three thousand running feet of bill boards, in addition to a large number of “daubs,” every day.
Each car has a manager who is responsible for the work done from that car. It is a position of trust and responsibility, and great tact is required to successfully handle the big force of men carried on each of the four advertising cars operated by a great institution like that of the Ringling Brothers. The manager keeps the financial accounts for his car, handles the expense money and sees that the show is properly billed. A report of his work, the expenditures from his car, and the amount of paper used, is submitted to the management of the show weekly.
The manager as well as the bill-posters sleep in the advertising car. The sleeping accommodations on Ringling Bros.’ advertising cars are unusually ample. The cars are furnished withfolding beds arranged like the upper berths of a Pullman or Wagner sleeper, and the men have lockers for their clothing. Meals are secured at the hotels, where arrangements are made in advance by the contracting agents who precede the first car.
Each car carries its own supply of billing matter. From fifteen to twenty days’ paper is loaded at a time. It is received by freight or express, and every shipment requires the capacity of a box car to carry it. With twenty days’ paper on an advertising car there is no chance for the springs to play see-saw. That means several tons of printed matter, and the engine that has to haul it, in addition to its regular complement of coaches, will keep the fireman busy shoveling coal into the furnace. But that is not all. There are a dozen or more cans of paste as big as barrels, and usually a ton of flour occupies the “well” under the car. It requires about five barrels of flour a day to keep each of the advertising cars supplied with paste. Each car has its own boiler, and “cooking” paste is one of the numerous duties of the busy bill-poster. It is made with steam, and blue stone is mixed in the “dope” to prevent fermentation. In this way the paste can be kept a considerable time, even in the warmest weather.
The bill-poster is sui generis - he is like himself and nobody else. He works more hours and gets more fun out of it than any one else on earth. He keeps his eyes wide open, and it doesn’t require a sledge-hammer to drive a joke into his head. He takes a solemn oath every fall that he will never “join art” again; but when spring comes around you couldn’t drive him away from the advertising car with a gatling gun. He closes the season with a couple of hundred “bones” in his “kick,” and he owns the earth and the fullness thereof. With careful forethought he provides himself with a new suit and an up-to-date “dicer,” and then he is ready to hunt up his friends and swap circus romances. . . .
What would the actor do if it were not for the property man, the much abused and much used individual who sees that the ropes, bars, tubs, nets, stages and all the properties and paraphernalia used by the performer are properly and punctually in place? The old time show with its one ring had from one to three or four property men. The modern show with its three rings and stages has from twenty-five to thirty of them. The property man never rests until he has retired for the night in his sleeping car. He is on the lot early and on the lot late, and all day long he hustles. There are more thousands of things for the property man to do than have ever been catalogued, and notwithstanding the length of his hours and the extent of his duties, he has the shortest name in the lexicon of circusography, for he is curtly and familiarly known as “props.”
Mr. Chas. O. Miller has charge of this department and the uniform courtesy extended to each performer by him and his many assistants, together with the absolute and unfailing fidelity with which every detail of each performer’s properties is attended to have a great deal to do with the fact that in the entire history of the show covering a period of thirteen years no performer has ever sustained any fatal or even serious injury.
The many acts and features shown during a circus program, of the extent presented by the Ringling Brothers, necessitate an intricate combination of properties which no one but a master of his calling, besides perhaps a Philadelphia lawyer, could possibly understand. When the doors to the show are thrown open and the audience begins to file in there is such a multiplicity of ropes, bars, perches, wires and other aerial apparatus as to form a perfect maze of rigging, yet in all this labyrinth of high-poised appliances there is not one single, slender wire, bolt or screw but has its indispensible uses. All of these properties have been accuratley adjusted and tested by the plumb line and spirit-level as even the slightest variation in the erection of an aerial rigging in which the performers depend upon the most exact calculation in making their mid-air dives might cause a serious accident.
Section One: Band chariot, Hussar Band, and searchlights. Detachment of animal cages, dens, and tableaux, with colored light effects, calciums and pyrotechnics. Grand moving float, sending up continuous pyrotechnical displays.
Section Two: Band chariot and military band. Detachment of mounted knights with banners. Array of wild animal cages. Open dens and floats, illuminated by calcium lights and vari-colored torches.
Section Three: Continental chariot and fife and drum corps. Ten ornate tableaux, dens of wild animals, opened to public gaze, made luminous by hundreds of colored lights.
Section Four: White band wagon and band, escorting company of historically costumed equestriennes. Golden floats, tableaux, and chariots, open dens and cages, illuminated by colored fusees, search lights, and flambeaux.
Section Five: Large chariot with chime of ringing bells. Assemblage of star performers in section of English T carts. Grotesque tableaux. Large float, with continuous firing into the air of pyrotechnical displays.
Section Six: Children’s parade of nursery rhymes, chariots drawn by Shetland ponies. Tableaux cars, with groups of baby elephants, etc., illuminated by red and green lights.
Section Seven: Band chariot and band. Platoon of mounted jockeys. Four-horse Roman chariots. Lady race riders. Mounted standing race riders. Herds of marching elephants, camels, dromedaries, Elk, moose, and curious cattle. Steam piano, vari-colored illumination.
Equestrian Director, Al. Ringling
Ringmasters: Dan Leon, J. H. Levis, J. Artress, M. Rooney
Grand Triumphal Pageant
Display No. 2 - Contortion and Bicycle Champions
Ring No. 1 - Ingham, contortion exercises.
Ring No. 2 - Anna Dare, marvelous bending; Howard and Axtelo, difficult bending.
Stage - French family, first appearance in America of the expert bicyclists.
Ring No. 3 - Nelson Sisters, little contortionists.
Display No. 3 - Feats of Strength and Dexterity
Ring No. 1 - Madam Adair, flying rings, divertisements.
Ring No. 2 - I. B. Hughes and daughter Katie, double trapeze.
Stage - Mlle. Irwin, human aerial top, mid-air tests of daring.
Ring No. 3 - Three Picardos, aerial horizontal bars.
Display No. 4 - Principal Equestrian acts by Champion Riders
Ring No. 1 - Lizzie Rooney. Mike Rooney, ringmaster.
Ring No. 2 - Elena J. Ryland. Dan. Leon, ringmaster.
Stage - Les Freres Obline, European Comiques, first appearance.
Ring No. 3 - Miss Rose Dockrill, petite rider. J. Levis, ringmaster.
Display No. 5 - Aerial Bicycling and Acrobatism
Ella Zuela and Lulu Troupe. First appearance, Europe’ greatest sensation.
Display No. 6 - Leaping Contests by a Host of Experts and Funny Clowns
Display No. 7 - Perfection of Menage Equestrianism
Ring No. 1 - Mme. Hughes, equestrianism.
Ring No. 2 - Mike Rooney, horsemanship.
Stage - the Clowns, horsemanship.
Ring No. 3 - Mlle. Sunlin, high school equestrianism.
Display No. 8 - The Children’s Friends
Ring No. 1 - Mr. Lew Sunlin, performing donkeys.
Ring No. 2 - Silver King, equine display, the perfect horse.
Stage - Mons. Natalie, funny antics, educated pig troupe.
Ring No. 3 - Prof. J. R. Adams, clownish pranks, elephantine humor. Galletti's Monkey Actors.
Display No. 9 - Series of Acrobatic Surprises
Ring No. 1 - Leondor Bros., acrobatic exploits.
Ring No. 2 - Prevost Bros., acrobats.
Stage - Nine Nelsons, acrobatic family. $10,000 challenge.
Ring No. 3 - Bros. Hermann, German acrobats.
Display No. 10 - Exhibition of Balancing and Bravery
Ring No. 1 - Wm. Irwin, head-balancing, trapeze.
Ring No. 2 - Mons. and Mlle. Adair, lofty balancing.
Stage - Mons. Le Fleur, headlong plunges from great heights.
Ring No. 3 - Jules Duval, unsupported ladder.
Display No. 11 - World’s Greatest Aerial Acts
Ring No. 1 - Stirk, Zeno and Anita, triple triumph.
Ring No. 2 - Six Jordans, flying metors.
Ring No. 3 - The Dacomas, the sensation of Paris.
Display No. 12 - Three Daring Bareback Acts
Ring No. 1 - John Rooney, bareback rider. Ringmaster, J. Artress.
Ring No. 2 - Mike Rooney, somersault rider. Ringmaster, J. Levis.
Stage - Host of merry clowns: Jules Turnour, James West, Pico Adams, Lew Sunlin, J. Goetchins, Art. Adair, Mons. Natalie, Frank Jones, J. Zammert, Arch E. Roger, Carl Mayo.
Ring No. 3 - Wm. De Mott, bareback rider. Ringmaster, Dan Leon.
Display No. 13 - Picturesque Posers
Landauer Troupe of Nine Models. Living table ux artistic beauty, famous work of brush and chisel portrayed with absolute fidelity.
Display No. 14 - Herds of Performing Elephants
Lockhart's Comedy Elephants. Acting, playing, performing, waltzing, merrymaking pachyderms.
Display No. 15 - Pot-Pouri of Clever Specialists
Ring No. 1 - J. Rooney, rope dancing; Mme. Royer, wire dancing.
Ring No. 2 - Nelson Sisters, wire dancers; Mons. Adair, high stilts.
Stage - French Family, expert saking, European experts.
Ring No. 3 - Miss Odell Williams, revolving globe; Mlle. Leon, mistress of the wire.
Display No. 16 - Equestrian Feats
Ring No. 1 - Miss Hughes, hurdle act. Ringmaster, T. Hughes.
Ring No. 2 - Mike Rooney, jockey riding. Ringmaster, J. Levis.
Stage - J. Artress, Mr. Irwin, object holders.
Ring No. 3 - Elena J. Ryland, hurdle riding. Ringmaster, D. Leon.
Display No. 17 - The Climax of Man's Daring
The Great Speedy, 80-foot dive from the dome of the Amphitheatre to a tank containing but three feet of water.
Display No. 18 - Hippodrome Races and Contests of Speed
First Event: Gentlemen's Flat Race, three times around Hippodrome course. Rider, Color, horse: Frank Jones, red, Tempter; John Slater, white, Linda; T. Strian, blue, Gold Dust; E. White, green, Maud Marion.
Second Event: Children’s Roman Chariot Race, once around the course. Rider, color, horses: Johnny Rooney, red, Frank, Tom, Sam and Chub; Fred Cone, white, Nig, Fly, Cap and Andy.
Third Event: Racing Contest between running horse and fleet-footed pony. Once around the course. Rider, color, horses: John Chena, blue, Horse Rover; Johnny Rooney, red, Pony Spider.
Fourth Event: Ladies’ Flat Race, twice around the course. Rider, color, horse: Miss J. Leon, red, Bazil; Miss J. West, white, Balshazzar; Miss R. Stickney, blue, Fire Fly.
Fifth Event: Two-Horse Roman Standing Race, twice around the course. Rider, colors, horses: J. H. Levis, white & blue, Dynamite and Edgar; Wm. VeVan, red & white, Tom and Orlando; J. Engle, green & white, Boy Frank and Sam Flower.
Sixth Event: Children’s Pony Steeple-Chase, ridden by Monkey Jockeys. Once around the course.
Seventh Event: Handicap and Race of a man against a running horse. Three-quarters around for the man, once around for the horse.
Eighth Event: Laughable Sulky Race, with ponies and clean drivers. Driver, colors, pony: J. Tournour, white, red & blue, Buttons; J. West, white, yellow & green, Peanuts.
Ninth Event: Four-Horse Roman Chariot Race, twice around the course. Charioteer, color, horses: Rhoda Royal, red, Edward, Frank, Sam and Ned; Miss Stickney, blue, Charley, Skipp, Cyclone and Sultan.
Tenth Event: Exhibition of horsemanship. Twenty-one blooded horses ridden and driven and reined by one man. Twice around the course. Driver, Dan. Leon.
Sunday, May 3. The four long trains bearing the show pulled out of Chicago for La Porte, Ind. During the run quite a surprise was given the Ringling Brothers at dinner time by the members of the circus band, the clowns, the men of feats and daring, and the trapeze performers. The surprise was in the shape of a reception tendered by representatives of the above-named class of performers, in celebration of the closing of an artistic success in Chicago.
Just as the train was steaming through Whiting, Ind., the Ringlings and their guests sat down to dinner in the Olympus. At the same time a long string of artists, headed by five of the clowns, filed into the dining-car from the performer’s coach.
The Ringlings looked up in surprise as the clowns began to sing the words and music of a song written and composed by the leader of the circus band and James Rafferty, the head animal trainer, who is known as “the circus bard.”
The surprise of the showmen can be imagined as the clowns began:
Kings of funny men are we -
Merry Andrews, filled with glee.
Touchstone at his very best
With such wit was ne’er possessed,
Jokes that made his bosom swell
Are to us mere Bagatelle.
Those who never laughed before
Hold their sides and fairly roar.
Many come to see the show
Who must “hock” their stoves to go.
Chorus -
Ring-ling! Ting-ling!
We don’t care for anything
But to gambol and to sing
“Ringling!”
As the clowns sang they stood on the rear platform of the dining car. On completing their song they stepped back, giving way to the aerial performers, who sang:
We’re the men who love to spring
And delight to turn and swing
Up above the world so far,
Like the twinkle-twinkle star.
Some of us remember, even,
When our mothers, now in heaven,
Rocked us, singing “hushaby,”
On the tight rope in the sky.
We eschew a little thing,
Yet we love to dance and sing:
Chorus -
Ring-ling! Ting-ling!
From the highest trapeze cling
By your great toes as you sing
“Ringling!”
During all this time the menagerie in the advance cars joined in the chorus in their own peculiar way, lending novelty, at least, to the song, if not harmony
The men of feats in daring were the next to swell the chorus with the following verse:
Born in circus tents were we;
Climbing center poles at three;
Ere we reached the age of ten
We were reckoned fearless men.
We could swallow butcher knives,
Poke our heads in hornet’s hives,
Ride the panther on a rail,
Or tie slipnots in his tail.
But we love to beat the gong
As we all burst forth in song:
Chorus -
Ring-ling! Ting-ling!
From his cage the lion bring;
Twist his fly brush as we sing
“Ringling!”
By this time the Ringling boys were so surprised that the dinner was getting cold from standing on the table so long. Alf Ringling’s jaw dropped, Charlie Ringling’s eye opened to twice the size necessary even to looking ahead for dates.
Their surprise was increased a moment later when the members of the band entered the car dressed in uniform and joined in the song:
We’re the men from Teuton land,
Paid for tootin’ in the band.
Ringlings could no run their show
If we could not toot and blow,
We can sound a mighty blast,
Two-ton pressure, slow or fast;
With our brass and basso drum
We play “Tum-te-Toodle-Um.”
And by reason of the fact
Twice a thrilling seems each act.
Chorus-
Ring-ling! Ting-ling!
We can toot if we can't sing;
And the triangle can ding -
“Ringling!”
After their surprise dinner was attended to, a grand reception on wheels took place. The Ringlings give two performances in Laporte, Ind., to-day.
La Porte, Ind. Monday, May 4. L. S. & M. S. R. R., 75 miles. Population. 7,126. Arrived here shortly after noon on Sunday, May 3. Our first stand out of Chicago. Every one inhaled the pure, fresh country air, and thanked fortune they were away from dirty, dusty State street. Fine lot in Fair Grounds, where all hastened with the desire to see the flags flying. Canvas new and shining in the sunlight like a big white bird - everything resplendent with paint and varnish. Everyone pronounced the “lay-out” a “cologne water daisy,” and repaired to the dining car to eat their first meal en route, which, under the efficient management of Harry Abbott, proved to all that Ringling Brothers believed also in looking after the welfare of the inner man. Parade viewed by immense crowds who attest the popularity of the “World’s Greatest” by filling the immense canvas at each performance. No accidents marred the beauty of the program, but everything moved like clock work, even to the lowering of our canvas and the loading of our immense trains.
South Bend, Ind. Tuesday, May 5. L. S. & M. S. R. R. 30 miles. Pop. 21,819. Arrived early. Fine lot by the side of railroad. In spite of opposition, we did a great business. This is quite a manufacturing center, but on account of the existing dull times only a few factories were running, and these on short time. Quite a number viewed the fine residence of Studebaker, the wagon king. A new water wagon was added here, making three in all.
Elkhart, Ind. Wednesday. May 6. L. S. & M. S. R. R. 15 miles. Pop. 11,360. Arrived early. Nice lot. Real circus weather and a real circus town. Business good. Quite a number of the musicians visit the factory of C. G. Cown.
Bryan, Ohio. Thursday, May 7. L. S. & M. S. R. R. 50 miles. Pop. 3,468. Arrived in good time; good but small lot. Same old story - streets crowded with people who could not resist the desire to find out what was in those covered wagons. Local papers loud in their praise of the show.
Toledo, Ohio. Friday, May 8. L. S. & M. S. R. R. 50 miles. Pop. 82,334. Arrived early. Two-mile haul to lot, near Ball Park. The capacity of our immense canvas tested at each performance, and the merry clink of gold is heard above the plaudits of our pleased patrons, as it falls into the coffers of the “World’s Greatest.” Dave and High Walton, who donned the spangled garb with us in “’93,” were visitors; also Sun Bros., proprietors of a small show, that opened the following day. A. J. Ross, musician, visited by relatives and friends, this being his former home. Opposition here with the Triumvirate proved the third knock-out for the would-be combine.
Bowling Green, Ohio. Saturday, May 9. Ohio Central R. R. 35 miles. Population 4,000. In spite of the long haul previous night to the runs, viz., three miles, we arrived bright and early. A large crowd followed the parade to the lot to witness Speedy make his dive, and the long row of paintings proved too much for their curiosity, so the side show was kept very busy caring for the multitude seeking admission. The big circus tent again filled. During the performance Mike Rooney rode his act in evening dress, “just like it was on the bills,” and it proved an instantaneous hit. Guy Repasz visited with relatives here.
Findlay, Ohio. Monday, May 11. Ohio Central R. R. 30 miles. Pop. 19,100. Arrived Sunday morning. Nice lot and very hot weather. The papier mache works, where our mardi-gras heads are made, is situated here. Afternoon house big; night good. A severe storm struck us during the afternoon show, but did no damage outside of creating a short panic and wetting our clothes. It was hard to determine who were the worse frightened, the audience or the circus people. After the excitement subsided everything proceeded in the same old way.
Portland, Ind. Tuesday, May 12. L. E. & W. R. R. 105 miles. Pop. 4,000. Long run, but arrived early. This is the home of four of our musicians, viz: Clate Alexander, Ben Bergman, Harry Thorp and Asa Cummings. During parade a banner was seen stretched across the street on which was printed: “Welcome, to the masher, the doctor, the U. T. C. actor, and the one man band.” Oscar Puckett was visited by wife and sister.
Muncie, Ind. Wednesday, May 13. L. E. & W. R. R. 27 miles. Pop. 11,345. Arrived early. Lot close to railroad. C. W. Gray, musician, discontinued and Cass Cleveland joins. Jack Henry was visited by his sister. Little Billy Nelson turns 41 flip-flaps and the audience attest their appreciation in a hearty manner.
Kokomo, Ind. Thursday, May 14. Branch of L. E. & W. R. R. 52 miles. Pop. 8,901. Arrived late and parade did not go out until 11:30. Geo. Stout visited by wife. Mrs. Ben. Wallace, wife of the proprietor of the Wallace Show, visits.
Frankfort, Ind. Friday, May 15. L. E. & W. R. R. 30 miles. Pop. 6,000. Arrived in good time. Lot in fair ground and a long haul. Business good. A. R. Farrer, bandmaster of the Indiana State Band, presented W. F. Weldon with several marches of his own composition. During the afternoon performance Mlle. Adair fell from her flying rings, but luckily escaped with no serious injury. Opposition here.
Paxton, Ill. Saturday, May 16. L. E. & W. R. R. 95 miles. Pop. 2,200. Long run and arrived late. Town filled with excursionists who came to see the big show. Business good. Severe storm at night blows over a big chimney and the lunch stand goes “straight up.”
Peoria, Ill. Monday, May 18. L. E. & W. R. R. 120 miles. Pop. 45,000. Arrived Sunday morning. Lot in old Ball Park. Two of Buffalo Bill’s advance cars here, but the city is fairly covered with Ringling paper. Thousands view the city of “white tents,” desirous of analyzing a showman’s Sabbath. Geo. Gray, while attempting to catch a switch engine came in contact with a piece of barb wire and lost a small portion of cuticle from the bridge of his nose. A $5,000 damage suit was threatened. Do you remember the flood? All who were connected with the “World’s Greatest” on this date will answer in a chorus, “Yes.” Monday morning broke with the rain descending in torrents. The hour for parade came and went and still no abatement. The management, seeing that a parade was impossible, sent the big band, and wagon, down town and the waiting thousands were notified that there would be a performance given in spite of the conflicting elements. To the surprise of every one they came, not in twos and threes, but in great droves and soon the big canvas was filled to overflowing with an eager, expectant, as well as good-natured public. The grand climax, however, was reserved for the night performance. During the intermission between shows, loads of sawdust and straw were distributed around the hippodrome track and through the menagerie, and walks were built from the entrance to the street, making it as comfortable as possible for our patrons, who showed their appreciation by again filling the big tent. But the program had scarcely started when the heavens opened with renewed vigor and fairly deluged us. In less than 20 minutes the lot, which was a natural basin, was covered from 4 inches to 2 feet. It was impossible to give any further performance as the trunks in the dressing rooms were floating, so the audience waded out to terra firma and the show people turned their attention to saving their wardrobe and other properties from floating away. To say the least, it was a mighty damp show en route to Geneseo the next morning.
Geneseo, Ill. Tuesday, May 19. C., R. I. & Pac. R. R. 95 miles. Pop. 3,182. Arrived late. Nice grassy lot, high and dry. Quite a difference from the one we had just left. Short parade, good business. Almost the entire show spent the day in drying out. Quite a number of the performers lost nearly all the wardrobe they possessed, as the dry trunks were very few and some of the fabrics used are not fast colors. It is estimated that between two and three thousand dollars worth of wardrobe was ruined by this down-pouring of the elements.
Rock Island, Ill. Wednesday, May 20. C., R. I. & P. R. R. 25 miles. Pop. 14,000. Arrived bright and early. Lot close to railroad. Long parade and streets packed with a waiting multitude. A small show, uptown, takes advantage of the crowds waiting for our appearance and do a land office business for a short time. Big business. Opposition. The billing brigades of the two rival shows came together here, but of course the “World’s Greatest” won the day. Rain after night performance.
Marengo, Ia. Thursday, May 21. C., R. I. & P. R. R. 88 miles. Pop. 2,500. Arrived late. Lot close to railroad. Our ever growing popularity again attested by a packed canvas. Side show does its share and the concert well patronized. Butch Parsons wears a large-sized smile, which proves that the “little store” was not forgotten. Billy Boegel and wife, the former an old “trooper,” visit their many friends with the show.
Des Moines, Ia. Friday, May 22. C., R. I. & P. R. R. 90 miles. Pop. 51,000. Arrived early. Short haul to lot. Lot on the bank of the Des Moines River. In spite of the frantic opposition of the alleged two-shows, the canvas filled to its utmost capacity at both performances. The daily papers are unanimous in their verdict that this is the “biggest and best.”
Ft. Dodge, Ia. Saturday, May 23. C., R. I. & Pac. & Ill. Cent. R. R.s. 90 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived early. Nice lot, and a short parade. Business big, although the umteen shows united told everybody to “wait.” W. W. Rees, manager of wardrobe, visits his parents, this being their home.
Sioux Falls, S. Dak. Monday, May 25. Ill. Central R. R. 175 miles. Pop. 11,000. Arrived about noon Sunday. Lot dry and dusty. Very strong, steady wind during the day, which left its traces on the side show top, as well as filled everybody full of dust and sand. Big Shriner parade here after afternoon performance, in which the several bands of the show participated. To commemorate this event the Shriners distributed 100 complimentary tickets to the children of the poor. L. A. Matthews visited by wife and two little girls. This town the origin of 3 clubs we no doubt will hear of later, viz: The Globe Trotters, The Maccaroni Masticators, and the Da Coma Tribe of Indians. W. W. Rees and wife, Master and Mistress of Wardrobe, closed and were succeeded by Arthur Mayhew and Mrs. Lovenberg. Business big.
Madison, S. Dak., Tuesday, May 26. C. M. & St. P. R. R. 60 miles. Pop. 2,100. Arrived early. Nice lot. Business large. During the intermission between shows W. A. Patrick, with a few appropriate remarks, presented W. F. Ryan with a badge in honor of him being “Chief Botherer,” and the band played “Hail to the Chief.”
Mitchell, S. Dak. Wednesday, May 27. C. M. & St. P. R. R. 90 miles. Pop. 3,100. Arrived early. Weather very cold and stormy. Rain, snow and sleet, but in spite of the elements business was very big. Wm. Fuller, general agent of the Wallace Show, visited.
Brookings, S. Dak. Thursday, May 28. C. M. & St. P. R. R. 125 miles. Pop. 1,900. Long run, but arrived at 7:30. Still very cold, and many camp fires were lighted.
Watertown, S. Dak. Friday, May 29. C. M. & St. P. R. R. 48 miles. Pop. 2,000. Arrived early. Nice lot and a short haul. Temperature warm and enjoyable and tents were crowded.
Aberdeen, S. Dak. Saturday, May 30. C. M. & St. P. R. R. 113 miles. Pop. 4,000. Long run, but arrived bright and early. Good lot close to railroad. Everyone warned by Bob Taylor to get up early, as cars were to be transferred at 8 o’clock. Every one heeded his advice and the cars were transferred(?) almost a quarter of a mile. Sleepy eyes and vows of vengeance. Big business.
Fargo, N. Dak. Monday, June 1. Northern Pac. R. R. 223 miles. Pop. 7,500. Ar rived Sunday 1:45 p. m. The Dacoma tribe of Indians immediately take to the woods hunting and fishing, resulting in the catch of our fish of uncertain weight. It was in this town, Sunday, May 31st, “The Red Wagon Weekly” saw the light of day. The idea of editing and publishing the weekly happenings of the show, etc., in the form of a newspaper is rightfully the property of Alf. T. Ringling, who, with the assistance of correspondents from the different departments, issued this bright, newsy, little sheet - a five column, four page quarto - with the motto, “Any color so it’s Red.” During the parade, which also went over to Moorhead, the big band wagon mired and the band walked to the lot. Our “extras” were utilized here to good advantage.
Crookston, Minn. Tuesday, June 2. N. Pac. R. R. 68 miles. Pop. 4,000. When we arrived here we found a goodly portion of the town inundated by the recent floods, and the streets almost impassable. By noon the greater portion of the show was on the lot. No parade was attempted, but the band marched uptown and informed the crowds that we were ready for their “shekels.”
Grafton, N. Dak. Wednesday, June 3. N. Pac. R. R. 76 miles. Pop. 3,000. Arrived late. Lot near railroad. On account of the miry streets the parade was made around two blocks near the lot and did not go uptown. Owing to the extreme northern latitude we enjoyed daylight until after 9 o’clock p. m.
Grand Forks, N. Dak. Thursday, June 4. N. Pac. R. R. 50 miles. Pop. 5,701. Arrived early and unloaded on the lot. Nothing to be seen but mud and water. The city authorities had used an extra force of men trying to make the streets passable for our parade, but after we had gone two blocks it was found impossible to proceed further and we returned to the lot. After the afternoon show we were drenched by a cloud burst, which left four inches of water on the lot. Owing to a long run and the condition of the grounds, no night show was given, to the disappointment of many excursionists, as well as town people. The cook house wagon mired and held us until 4 a. m.
Wadena, Minn. Friday, June 5. Northern Pac. R. R. 168 miles. Pop. 1,100. The tale is told in few words. Arrived at 1 o’clock p. m. Paraded at 2, and show started at 3. “Quick work,” says Davy Burke.
St. Cloud, Minn. Saturday, June 6. Northern Pac. R. R. 76 miles. Pop. 8,000. Arrived early, muddy lot near railroad. Paraded in a driving rain, which continued all day, but all are used to it by this time. Business big. Little Bertha Callahan visited her many friends. Did not get loaded until 4 o’clock Sunday morning.
Duluth, Minn. Monday, June 8. Northern Pac. R. R. 186 miles. Pop. 35,700. In coming here we passed over a very bad roadbed, which was rendered more so by the heavy rainfall of the past 3 weeks, but outside of pulling out a few draw bars we suffered no accident. Arrived at 5 o’clock Sunday evening. Rainy and very cold. A few “dug up” their winter overcoats and went to see “Mascot,” while the rest went to bed to keep warm. Monday morning it was still raining, while a stiff breeze came off the lake that told of the frigid zone. Owing to the rain, etc., the full parade was not given, but at 12:30 the three band wagons, bell wagon, and calliope informed the half frozen populace that we had not gone into winter quarters, and two full houses greeted this ever popular amusement enterprise. The day’s work over every one heaved a sigh of relief and thanked fortune that this, one of the hardest, coldest and most unpleasant days ever experienced in show business, was at an end. A bad lot, coupled with a long haul, held us here until daybreak.
West Superior, Wis. Tuesday, June 9. C., St. P., M. & O. R. R. 4 miles. Pop. 30,000. Another muddy lot received our heavy wagons in its depths, but the sun shone once more and its warmth gladdened our hearts. During parade a horse ran away and hurt a couple of boys who were in the street, though not seriously. Our coterie of riders had their “troubles” trying to keep their feet while the horses stumbled around the “mucky” rings. Tents crowded, and the performance highly praised.
Chippewa Falls, Wis. Wednesday, June 10. C., St. P., M. & O. R. R. 140 miles. Pop. 9,000. Owing to long run did not arrive until noon. Lot on river bank near log dam. Parade out at 2 o’clock and witnessed by many thousands, who had been waiting its appearance patiently for hours. Business big.
Menominee, Wis. Thursday, June 11. C., St. P., M. & O. R. R. 32 miles. Pop. 6,491, Arrived early. Long, dusty haul to lot situated in the fair ground. Big log pond here that is quite a novel sight to some of the show folks. Business good.
Red Wing, Minn. Friday, June 12. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 73 miles. Pop. 7,000. Arrived 8:30. Another long, dusty haul to the lot. The Reform School Band played for us as we passed by. Jas. Webb, an old Ringlingite, lives here. New side show top is initiated here. The big cook house wagon broke through a bridge at night and the driver sustained severe injuries. A small medicine show pitched here under the management of Eugene Coutch, the famed tenor vocalist.
Glencoe, Minn. Saturday, June 13. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 95 miles. Pop. 3,000. Arrived in good time. Nice lot, and a dusty town, also dry. Prof. Speedy did not make his dive, being unable to secure the water. Business good.
Albert Lea, Minn. Monday, June 15. M. & St. L. R. R. 168 miles. Pop. 4,000. Short haul and good lot near railroad. The “Globe Trotters” spent Sunday on their wheels meeting with many mishaps. Messrs. Patrick and Vogt both returned with broken wheels and skinned shins, but the barrel wasn’t to blame. Several nice lakes around here received their due share of attention. Tremendous business here.
Waterloo, Ia. Tuesday, June 16. B., C. R. & N. R. R, 103 miles. Pop. 7,000. Arrived 6:20 a. m. Short haul to lot on river bank. The cook and horse tents were pitched three-quarters of a mile down the river from the lot. Several members of the Kirkhardt and Ryan circus visited.
Cedar Rapids, Ia. Wednesday, June 17. B., C. R. & N. R. R. 53 miles. Pop. 19,020. Arrived early. Two and one half mile haul to the lot. The menagerie was strengthened here by the addition of 60 monkeys, a pair of black tigers, and a ten months old chimpanzee. A. Groff, musician, was called home by the illness of his father. Opposition with Seltzers’, but their “fake” bill to the country people that we would not be able to show, but would return next season, didn’t work. Business big.
While the circus was in transit last night an event occurred that proved the Ringling Brothers have the sylvester sound of the animal world. This strange sleep-walking animal is a goat - not, however, the common William goat that subsists on tin cans, shingle nails and other delicate dishes of his bewhiskered American cousin, but a genuine Napaulese goat brought many thousands of miles over land and sea by the Ringling Brothers’ foreign agents. The discovery might have led to a tragedy. One of the brakemen of the fourth section of the show trains while peering out of the cupola of the caboose saw an object several cars ahead which in the darkness he could not make out. He called the attention of the conductor to it and the latter ordered him to make an investigation. Accordingly the brake-man climbed over numerous cages, bales of canvas, center poles and other paraphernalia and finally upon the car where he had seen the object. Staring over the brakeman was a face that caused the man’s hair to “stand upon end.” The moon which had been behind a cloud at this moment shone through a rift and cast its wierd white light upon the apparition. The brakeman gasped and almost fell from the car, but with nervous energy clutched the iron ladder on the side of the car and saved himself. Not six feet from him was a face surmounted by horns, and terminated in the most satanic-looking goatee. He looked into the staring eyes of the wierd countenance and then his gaze rested on its feet.
“Great heavens! They are cloven.” he exclaimed, and then he knew it was his majesty from below. The brakeman felt that it was up with him and instantly his past life passed before him in panoramic review. After three or four miles of his sins had masqueraded by him in as many seconds the thought of escape lent strength to his trembling limbs and he began scrimmaging back towards the caboose crying with all his lung power, “the devil! the devil! the devil!” An Irish employe poked his head out of the window of a sleeping car and asked “feit the devil?” “He’s on that car,” said the terror-stricken brakeman as he bounded into the caboose. A half dozen circus employes and several trainmen finally gathered sufficient courage to go to the scene. As a dozen lanterns were raised one of the animal men exclaimed, “By thunder,” and began laughing. “It’s the Napaulese goat and he’s taken to sleepwalking again. He walked all around the iron girders eighty feet above the ground in Tattersall’s, Chicago, and now he’s taken to walking over moving freight cars.” The goat was complacently walking about on the top of the car. One of the circus employes cautioned the crowd to be quiet. The goat finally stepped from the car across to the top of a cage on another car; from this he walked to another cage and then leaped upon a bale of canvas; from the canvas to the floor of the car and then crawled into the door of his cage, lay down and apparently went to sleep, but as a matter of fact he had been all the time but in a somnambulistic state. Through the carelessness of an attendant the door of the goat’s cage had not been securely fastened and the result was the strange midnight perambulation.
Independence, Ia. Thursday, June 18. C. & N. W. R. R, 64 miles. Top. 4,000. Arrived early. Long haul to lot. This is the home of William, the horseman who used to operate the famous kite-shaped track where world’s records were broken. The low electric light wires on the bridge impaired the progress of the parade.
Osage, Ia. Friday, June 19. C. & N. W. R. R. 88 miles. Pop. 2,100. Arrived early. Short haul and a muddy lot. L. A. Matthews and C. C. Cline, musicians, closed, succeeded by Gid Abell and Robert Patton, who joined.
Spring Valley, Minn. Saturday, June 20. Winona & St. Peter R. R. 38 miles. Pop. 4,500. Arrived early. Short haul and fine lot. So great was the crowd in this little town that the parade had to be forced through the throngs of people that crowded every available space along the line of march. Just after the parade we experienced a severe wind and rain storm, but of short duration. “Hugh” Harrison increased the side show attractions by the addition of “Stub,” the midget bull.
Winona, Minn. Monday, June 22. W. & St. Peter R. R. 63 miles. Pop. 19,000. Arrived early; good lot. The Dacoma tribe of Indians take to their canoes and repair to the hunting grounds on the Wisconsin side of the river. While dancing the green corn dance they capsized the canoe and came very near losing three squaws and one papoose; quick action and cool heads, and all were secure on terra firma. The Globe Trotters were out in full force, having many new faces in their ranks. Anna R. Cook, now recovered from the injuries received in Chicago, joined us here. Several excursions on the river as well as on rail filled the town, our canvas, and the show’s exchequer. Business big.
Rochester, Minn. Tuesday, June 23. C. & N. W. R. R. 60 miles. Pop. 5,820. Short haul and a nice lot near railroad. The State Insane Asylum is situated here and some five hundred of them were numbered in our afternoon audience.
Owatonna, Minn. Wednesday, June 24. C. & N. W. R. R. 40 miles. Pop. 4,000. As usual the streets were crowded with an expectant public and “history repeated itself.” Bum, the tramp dog joined here.
New Ulm, Minn. Thursday, June 25. C. & N. W. R. R. 86 miles. Pop. 3,900. Arrived early; 2-mile haul to the lot in fair ground. A fine big monument here erected in honor of those who lost their lives in the Indian massacre, 1863.
St. Peter, Minn. Friday, June 26. C. & N. W. R. R. 30 miles. Pop. 3,800. Lot in fair grounds. Short haul. The city was full of strangers lured here by the enticing circus posters, and the parade did the rest. Jack Alexander, musician, closed.
Blue Earth, Minn. Saturday, June 27. C. & S. P. & M. & O. R. R. 45 miles. Pop. 2,000. Immediately after tournament in the afternoon, a severe wind and rain storm struck us and for a few minutes it looked like we were going to be blown away. No attempt was made to proceed with the performance, but all sought safety in the sheds and stables near at hand. The storm soon passed and a large audience sat in dripping clothes until the entire show was given, forgetting their discomfort in the thrilling scenes before them. It was nothing short of a miracle that the canvas stood the terrible strain, and speaks well for the maker.
St. James, Minn. Monday, June 29. C., St. P., M. & O. R. R. 60 miles. Pop. 2,400. A nice, quiet Sunday town. The paint pot was utilized here by Happy Jack and Charlie Miller, and on Monday morning the center poles, quarter poles, and other properties appeared in a bright new dress.
Lu Verne, Minn. Tuesday, June 30. Branch C., St. P., M. & O. R. R. 75 miles. Pop. 2,800. Arrived early. Lot close to railroad. Hot and dusty. Prof. Speedy had trouble in getting water enough to fill his tank.
Le Mars, Ia. Wednesday, July 1. C., St. P., M. & O. R. R. 99 miles. Pop. 4,500. Arrived early. Lot dry and dusty. Mrs. W. H. Vancleve joined her husband for a two days’ visit. Dick Borsch discontinued, and Will Marshall joined. “The Bowery” made its first appearance on the concert stage.
Sheldon, Ia. Thursday, July 2. Ill. Central R. R. 74 miles. Pop. 1,800. Arrived in good time. Still hot and dusty. Streets blocked here with wagons, which showed us our country cousins were all in to see the “Big Thing.” Afternoon business immense. A severe storm prevented our giving a night show.
Spencer, Ia. Friday, July 3. Ill. Central & C., M. & St. P. R. R.s. 43 miles. Pop. 2,000. Arrived early. Short haul. A good level lot. The same old story, big crowd and big business. While en route here our menagerie suffered the loss of one of its principal features, viz: “.Mamie,” the giraffe, who died during the night from the effects of a severe cold. Billy Wilson received his new “Duplex” drum here.
Mason City, Ia. Saturday, July 4. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 100 miles. Pop. 4,500. Arrived bright and early. On this day, in honor of the great event yearly celebrated, the canvas presented a gala day appearance; a perfect mass of bunting, the stars and stripes everywhere conspicuous. To the music of patriotic airs the parade wound its way through the thoroughfares of this little city, with flags waving and horses prancing. The performers, true to their patriotic instincts, presented their acts dressed in the national colors, and the large and enthusiastic audiences showed their appreciation of each by vigorous applause. It was a day, indeed, not to be soon forgotten by the Mason Cityites. The giraffe was prepared here for shipment to Chicago to the “Field’s Columbian Museum,” where it will be mounted and placed on exhibition, a gift of Ringling Bros. Henderson, musician, joined.
Monticello, Ia. Monday, July 6. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 148 miles. Pop. 2,000. A long Sunday run, but arrived at 11 a. m. Nice lot situated in fair ground. A very dry town. Business fair. Geo. Ganweiler joined and Sid Lautz closed. Mr. Lewis Sells, of the Forepaugh-Sells show, joins here for a visit of several days as a guest of the Ringling Bros.
West Union, Ia. Tuesday, July 7. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 78 miles. Pop. 1,900. Arrived early. Lot uneven and rough, but close to railroad. Very hot and dusty. Lee Ingham returns completely recovered from his painful accident received in Chicago. Business good.
Decorah, Ia. Wednesday, July 8. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 45 miles. Pop. 3,000. Still hot and dusty, but a short haul and a level lot. The menagerie collection increased here by the addition of a pair of ostriches and a seal lion and seal. Arthur Nelson and little Sarah French failed to materialize, having entered the matrimonial state in a romantic manner with McGregor, Iowa, as their Gretna Green. W. F. Weldon, bandmaster, retired, and was succeeded by Geo. Ganweiler. The famous ice cave is situated here.
Cresco, Ia. Thursday, July 9. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 37 miles. Pop. 2,200. Arrived early. Good lot near railroad. Weather remains about the same only more dust. The band purchased all the G. A. R. pants in town.
Prairie Du Chein, Wis. Friday, July 10. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 70 miles. Pop. 4,000. Arrived early. Two and one-half mile haul to lot, which was in the eastern part of the town. Billy Walters visited. Joe Artressa discontinued. Walter, the chimpanzee, got a new “ma” here in the form of a real live goat.
Highland Center, Wis. Saturday, July 11. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 60 miles. Pop. 2,000. Arrived at 5 o’clock a. m. Awful hot and dust terrible. Lot handy. Everybody in town - immense crowd. Will Marshall visited by wife. This is the home of Barbara and Joe Leffler, our Albino children, who were visited by their parents and many friends. Dick Booth, an old circus musician, also lives here.
Portage, Wis. Monday, July 13. C.. M. & St. P. R. R. 89 miles. Pop. 6,000. Arrived early Sunday morning. As this is near the home of the “World’s Greatest,” Baraboo, quite a number seized the opportunity and drove the fifteen miles across country to visit relations, friends, and the winter quarters. For the second time this season the canvas was finely decorated with bunting, banners, and flags. Mike and Lizzie Rooney received a visit from their mother, who lives in Baraboo, and in fact all of Baraboo was over and a general handshaking ensued. Mrs. Walker was visited by her husband and accompanied him home. James Rossette and Asa Cummings, while bathing in the treacherous Wisconsin River, were swept from their feet by an under current, but through the prompt assistance of Gid Abell and Geo. Gray, no obituaries were written. Harry Tiffner closed. Lot sandy, in fair ground; streets dusty and weather hot. Rain after the night show.
Beaver Dam, Wis. Tuesday, July 14. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 25 miles. Pop. 4,601. Lot in fair ground - very sloppy, and a long haul. Loaded and unloaded out at the junction. Quite a number tried a short cut to lot by way of railroad track, which is a loop here, and soon found themselves back where they started; ruffled temper and a blue atmosphere. Usual business. While raising the menagerie center poles, one slipped, falling and striking canvasman King, injuring him severely. Rain at night.
Berlin, Wis. Wednesday. July 15. C., M. & St. P. R. R. 47 miles. Pop. 4,500. Arrived 7 o’clock. Nice lot eight blocks distant. The parents of Dick Hunter live here. A run away team, during parade, creates considerable excitement, but no one injured. Through a mistake in printed routes all go to bed expecting to awaken in Oshkosh in the morning, but we found the show in Fon du lac. Considerable figuring was done to find “just where we were at.”
Fon Du Lac, Wis. Thursday, July 16. C., M. & St. P. K. R. 75 miles. Pop. 14,024. Lot in fair ground and a long haul. Very hot and dry. Streets were jammed with people long before parade time. J. D. Harrison, brother of Hugh, joined here. Business big.
Oskosh, Wis. Friday. July 17. C. & N. W. R. R. 18 miles. Pop. 25,000. Arrived early. Two and one-half mile haul to lot north of town. Jack Kauffer, snare drummer, joined. Business big.
Jefferson, Wis. Saturday, July 18. C. & N. W. R. R. 81 miles. Pop. 3,000. Nice lot and a short haul. Owing to our closeness to Chicago and good railroad facilities, quite a number ran out to Sunday there. Among them we noticed Axtell, Howard, B. Peri and wife, etc.
Beloit, Wis. Monday, July 20. C. & N. W. R. R. 37 miles. Pop. 7,000. Arrived early. Short haul. The town is in Wisconsin, the lot in Illinois, across the bridge. Peck & Behrens, Chicago tailors, make us their annual visit. Chas. Welch joined, also Blanche Fox. A hot, dusty parade. Many visited the show from Janesville and other joints. Geo. Gray visited by his parents.
Sycamore, Ill. Tuesday, July 21. C. & N. W. R. R. 44 miles. Pop. 4,500. Still hot and dusty. Behrens takes his departure and Arnheim visited. The band have a new stand. Earl May and father visited their many friends with the show. Usual business.
Sterling, Ill. Wednesday, July 22. C. & N. W. R. R. 60 miles. Pop. 6,000. Lot in old fair ground. Weather somewhat moderated and side show, big show and concert rake in the “shekels.” This is Mrs. Leondar’s old home and she was visited by many friends of “ye olden days.” “Mumble peg” is now all the rage.
Maquoketa, Ia. Thursday, July 23. C. & N. W. R. R. 61 miles. Pop. 4,000. Arrived early, but in a cold, driving rain, which lasted all day. This made our third attempt to show this little city, but each time we have been unfortunate in having a rainy day for our portion. The lot was in the fair ground and was reached by wading in mud knee deep. No side walks. The parade was given at noon; no wardrobe. Everybody returned soaking wet. Afternoon house fair. No attempt was made to show at night. A man, while coming out in the afternoon, slipped and fell in the street and broke his neck.
Tipton, Ia. Friday, July 24. C. & N. W. R. R. 80 miles. Pop. 2,400. Arrived late. This being the end of a short branch of the railroad, our trains were in each other’s way and the unloading and loading was greatly retarded. However the afternoon performance began at 3 o’clock. Lot on fair ground. Mrs. Grace Gilbert, ballet dancer, joined here.
Marshalltown, Ia. Saturday, July 25. C. & N. W. R. R. 97 miles. Pop. 10,000. Arrived early. Fair ground lot. Opposition here a wild west show amounts to naught as business was tremendous. The Cleveland Bros. visited relatives here. Capt. A. C. Anson, famous on the diamond, was a visitor. The Ruppell sisters closed.
Algona, Ia. Monday, July 27. C. & N. W. R. R. 121 miles. Pop. 3,894. Arrived Sunday morning. Lot south of town near the river. Real circus weather and the town alive with country people. Forrest McGilliard, musician, joined here. Afternoon house big. A merchant, on being told of the crowd at the matinee, remarked, “It will be better to-night for I am going and I know a dozen others who will go to-night.” P. S. - They were all there.
Eagle Grove, Ia. Tuesday, July 28. C. & N. W. R. R. 34 miles. Pop. 3,000. Arrived early. Nice fair ground lot. Usual Ringling business. A fortune teller found plenty to do ’mongst the “show girls” who desired to see into the mazy future. The black tigress gave birth to three cubs here.
Jefferson, Ia. Wednesday, July 29. C. & N. W. R. R. 108 miles. Pop. 3,000. Long run and arrived late. Long haul also retarded us somewhat, but parade was called at 11. Notwithstanding the opposition of a red hot political meeting, our business was up to the standard. Yankee Robinson lies buried here. Owing to our late arrival we did not honor his grave in a body, still quite a number viewed the last resting place of this famous old showman. A male quartette from Boone entertained us with a few vocal selections at night, near the sleepers.
Ida Grove, Ia. Thursday, July 30. C. & N. W. R. R. 66 miles. Pop. 2,900. Arrived early. Very weedy lot, but a short haul. Worthy Tuttle called home by the semus illness of his mother, so the telegram said, but he must have received more encouraging news later, for he joined Weldon’s band in Chicago.
Sac City, Ia. Friday, July 31. C. & N. W. R. R. 40 miles. Pop. 2,850. Rained until 10 o’clock. Lot very marshy; 12, 16 and 20-horse teams the order of the day. Even the cages sank into the miry bog up to the hubs. Parade out at 11 o’clock, and the sun shone once more. Will Predmore and Frank York, musicians, joined. The Woodward Theater Co. visited.
Atlantic, Ia. Saturday, August 1. C. & N. W. and C., R. I. & P. R. R.s. 120 miles. Pop. 6,000. Arrived at 10 o’clock. Parade one hour later. The town crowded with people in spite of the fact that all the surrounding country was inundated. Lot close to the railroad on river bottom, which was flooded at night by the river overflowing its banks, compelling us to beat a hasty retreat before the performance was half finished. Instead of carrying the seat planks, quarter poles, etc., they were floated to their respective wagons.
Perry, Ia. Monday, August 3. C., R. I. & P. R. R. 121 miles. Pop. 3,880. Arrived Sunday 11 a. m. Sleepers one-half block from Main street. A very hot day, and a very dry town. A venturesome boy, more curious than the rest, crawled under the side wall and climbed upon the tiger den to investigate the contents. While peering through the grate the tigress, resenting this intrusion on the quietness of her Sabbath, scratched the left lobe of his ear, and he went home a sadder boy, but wiser. Kitty May Irwin makes her debut in bloomers.
Winterset, Ia. Tuesday, August 4. C., R. I. & P. R. R. 64 miles. Pop. 4,000. Arrived early. Good lot five blocks from public square. Town crowded with politicians, farmers, etc. Big political meeting here to-day. Two bands and a drum corps made things lively around the square until the parade appeared. Weather very sultry.
Indianola, Ia. Wednesday, August 5. C., R. I. & P. R. R. 32 miles. Pop. 4,000. Arrived early; long haul. Parade detained by low electric wires on almost every corner. Still sultry, but a light rain in the evening moderated the temperature. Cleveland Bros. visited relatives here, also “Cheyenne” spends the day with his father. During the afternoon performance Lizzie Rooney fell from her horse and sustained slight injuries.
Grinnell, Ia. Thursday, August 6. C., R. I. & P. R. R. 76 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived at 7 a. m. Slight rain in the morning, but the clouds soon cleared away and the sun “did the rest.” After the announcement of the feeding of the wild animals, a lady asked if it was the live animals they were going to feed. Business fair.
Centerville, Ia. Friday, August 7. Iowa Central R. R. 80 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived late. Heavy rain the preceding 24 hours and the lot was very soggy and wet. Lot close to railroad, but one and one-fourth miles from public square. Heat terrific. Several of our horses fell exhausted in the traces. New saloon close to lot was opened here this morning at 4 o’clock and back of bar was literally covered with money. Owing to notification from headquarters all raffles were declared off. Speedy was injured while making his dive by grazing the edge of the tank.
Washington, Ia. Saturday, August 8. K. & W. R. R. 102 miles. Pop. 4,800. Arrived late. Short haul and railroad lot. Parade at 11 o’clock. The first good streets we have had for several days. A man looked into Speedy’s tank of water, and asked if that was where the hippodrome was kept. Fine business and they went all the way through.
Keokuk, Ia. Monday, August 10. C., R. I. & P. & K. & W. R. R.s. 90 miles. Pop. 18,000. Arrived Sunday morning. Two and one half miles haul. The lot was very rough and uneven; 102 degrees in the shade. Andress & Showers, proprietors of a small show, visited. The F. F. F. lodge organized here.
Hannibal, Mo. Tuesday, August 11. St. L., K. & N. W. R. R. 78 miles. Pop. 14,000. Arrived early. Lot situated on the bank of the Mississippi River, near railroad. One block from Main street. The hottest day of the season. Will Zimmerman, musician, joined. Abert Howe gave the dressing room an exhibition of an upper cut. “Bum,” the dog, got mixed up with the chariot race and was knocked out in the second round. A small “Hey Rube” at night, with the usual result.
Brookfield, Mo. Wednesday, August 12. H. & St. J. R. R. 104 miles. Pop. 6,000. Long run, but arrived early. The parade was caught by a heavy shower of rain, wetting all the wardrobe. The lot was like a Chinese puzzle, but “Happy Jack” was equal to the emergency. During the afternoon performance Mrs. Nelson fell from her horse and dislocated her knee. Will Patton visited by his father.
Shelbina, Mo. Thursday, August 13. H. & St. J. R. R. 53 miles. Pop. 3,000. Arrived early. Short haul, Fine lot. A nice breeze modified the intense heat. The afternoon house packed to the ring bank. A thunder storm came up suddenly during the performance, which almost created a panic. The storm broke just as Lizzie Rooney made her bow. A hasty exit and no riding in that ring. Cleo, the lioness, choked to death while trying to swallow a bone.
Quincy, Ill. Friday, August 14. H. & St. J. R. R. 75 miles. Pop. 34,000. Arrived early. Three-mile haul to the lot in Baldwin Park. Heavy rain storm all morning, which retarded everything and made the lot very sloppy and muddy. Andress & Showers also have their tents pitched in this city. Geo. Ganweiler, who once lived here, visited with many old friends. Notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather the business was big.
Macomb, Ill. Saturday, August 15. C., B. & Q. R. R. 59 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived early. Still rainy and unpleasant. A hurried parade was made between showers, and the canvas was filled at each performance.
Galesburg, Ill. Monday, August 17. C., B. & Q. R. R. 41 miles. Pop. 17,000. Arrived early Sunday a. m. Lot in the ball park. Show increased here by the addition of six cages of animals, three camels, twenty-nine head of horses and ponies, one flat and one stock car. Miss Anna Dare lost a valuable diamond ring. Chas. Welch discontinued and Guy Hackney joined. Henry Gardt, proprietor of the Union Hotel, banqueted the F. F. F. lodge Monday night after the show. Business up to the standard.
Canton, Ill. Tuesday, August 18. C., B. & Q. R. R. 39 miles. Pop. 7,000. Arrived early. Fair Ground lot, three blocks from runs. All factories, etc., here closed for circus day. Geo. Baylor, musician, joined. Mrs. Annie Cook rode in the races for the first time since her accident in the Tattersall building last spring.
Kewaunee, Ill. Wednesday, August 19. C., B. & Q. R. R. 74 miles. Pop. 6,000. Arrived early. Nice lot, short haul, and town crowded with people. Doc. Colvin, Ed. Arlington, Dr. F. W. McNamara and John Ringling, who have been almost strangers, were numbered with us. This is the home of Ike Shipley of side show fame, who spent the day visiting with old comrades in the business. Wm. Vogt celebrated his 26th birthday in a fitting manner. Mayor Baker banqueted the staff of the F. F. F. Fred Smith, musician, joined. Wm. Young and Ben Bergman quietly collected their belongings and left during the silence of the night. Billy DeMott went to Cincinnati to nurse a sprained ankle. Business packed to the ring bank.
Princeton, Ill. Thursday, August 20. C., B. & Q. R. R. 32 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived early. Fine lot, three blocks from public square. Paraded both parts of the town. Both houses filled to overflowing and the show made a big hit. Prof. Speedy’s tank sprung a leak and nearly swamped the candy stands. L. A. Matthews, musician, joined. Dan Leon rode in Wm. DeMott’s absence Charley Leondor won the mumble-peg medal.
Ottawa, Ill. Friday, August 21. C., B. & Q. R. R. 68 miles. Pop. 10,000. Arrived early. Short haul, and lot close to the business center. An old gentleman here described a wild west show as “a lot of Indians who ought to be in the penitentiary, and cowboys who only get $15 a month, and some Texas ponies worth about a dollar apiece. Didn’t even have a tent, but put up a curtain around the seats.” A large crowd in to see the parade, and, consequently, big business.
Kankakee, Ill. Saturday, August 22. C., B. & Q. and I. I. I. R. R. 84 miles. Pop. 11,000. Arrived early. Long haul. Lot across the river from the Insane Asylum. Last night while in transit a severe rain and wind storm struck the cage train and the hyena and tiger dens were blown off the cars about eight miles from Streator. They were recovered during the day in a badly damaged condition. At the close of the afternoon performance, at which some 500 inmates of the asylum were present, we were again subjected to the fury of the elements with the following results: Three horse tents totally demolished, “big top,” dressing room and menagerie badly torn and 10,000 people soaking wet. During the excitement 29 lunatics escaped from their keepers and at dusk were not yet found. Grace Gilbert had quite a hard time in convincing one of the keepers that she was sound mentally. Ernest Landauer left for a visit over Sunday with his wife in Grand Rapids, Mich., and incidentally to see his little boy, for “Shorty” is papa now you know. Prof. Speedy and Jno. Kauffer closed. Burt Buchanan and Al. Hunt, musicians, joined. Fred. Madison was called home by the serious illness of his mother.
Bloomington, Ill. Monday, August 24. I. C. R. R. 87 miles. Pop. 25,000. Arrived early Sunday morning. Nice fair ground lot. The day was spent in patching canvas, drying clothes, etc., and answering the 101 questions familiar to all showmen. Parade out promptly Monday morning and the streets were crowded. This was the seventh show here this season, but it made no difference in our receipts. Arnheim, the tailor, made us a call. Wm. Demott returned once more in good working trim. Mrs. Levis and Austin joined for a few days visit with Jack. Anna Dare closed.
Mason City, Ill. Tuesday, August 25. I. C. R. R. 64 miles. Pop. 3,000. Arrived early. Nice lot close to the railroad. Ed. Shipp. wife and baby, also Cecil Lowanda and Mrs. Joe Parsons visited their many friends with the show. Cecil went in the leaps and showed the boys how to do it. Al Ringling, much improved in health, wife and Henry, returned to the show after several weeks absence. Property Dutch was run down by the jockey race and knocked completely out.
Clinton, Ill. Wednesday, August 26. I. C. R. R. 38 miles. Pop. 4,000. Arrived early. Short haul. Lot four blocks from the public square. Though this town was well supplied with amusements, viz: The county fair and two repertoire companys, we did a big business. Emma Warren’s and Clint G. Ford’s companys visited. Warren A. Patrick, in behalf of the dressing room, presented Al Ringling with a gold headed ebony cane. Axtel, contortionist, closed.
Tuscola, Ill. Thursday, August 27. I. C. R. R. 28 miles. Pop. 3,000. Arrived on time, one and one-half mile haul to lot in the old fair ground. During last night’s run we passed the Wallace show en route. The parade found the streets almost impassable, so great was the crowd. Business was extraordinary. Powell, contortionist, joined.
Champaign, Ill. Friday, August 28. I. C. R. R. 25 miles. Pop. 7,000. Arrived early. Nice lot near fair ground on the railroad. A 9 o’clock parade was called here as we included both Urbana and Champaign in our line of march. Six miles covered in two hours. Though the last day of the fair business in the afternoon was good, big at night. William Predemore, Clate Alexander and Lou Sunlin were all confined to their beds by sickness, and many more ailing. Jake Michaels, an old time circus bass player, is chief of police here.
Danville, Ill. Saturday, August 29. Wabash R. R. 35 miles. Pop. 14,000. Arrived early. The parade was almost blockaded in the streets by the immense crowds. This is the home of the “La Pearl” show, and quite a number visited the winter circus building. Clate Alexander’s illness assumed such serious proportions that he was sent to his home, Portland, Ind., in the care of Billy Wilson. L. O. Peterson, drummer, joined. Weather fine and business good.
Pittsfield, Ill. Monday, August 31. Wabash R. R. 186 miles. Pop. 4,000. The first section arrived at 12 o’clock Sunday noon. Owing to lack of track room the other sections were held at Pittsfield Junction, seven miles distant, until each preceding one was unloaded and the empty cars were brought back to the junction, consequently the last section did not get in until 3 o’clock p. m. The town was enveloped in dust and an immense crowd viewed the work of Robert Taylor and his efficient corps. The business here was only a repetition of other towns, but Pittsfield stands prominent among all others for the richness, depth and density of its every-where-present dust.
Jacksonville, Ill. Tuesday, September 1. Wabash R. R. 47 miles. Pop. 14,000. Arrived early. Two mile haul to lot in the ball park. The street car service here was very inadequate; it could not handle the crowds desiring to reach the show grounds. Business was good nevertheless. W. H. Vancleve was visited by relatives and friends. Martinho Lewanda, rider, joined. An ex-property man, while attempting to board a Wabash freight train, fell under and was cut to pieces.
Jerseyville, Ill. Wednesday, September 2. C. & A. R. R. 34 miles. Pop. 3,800. Arrived in good time. Very dusty, but the streets were sprinkled to the lot. Business good. Mrs. Hugh Harrison lost a valuable diamond ring here.
Carlinville, Ill. Thursday, September 3. C. & A. R. R. 60 miles. Pop. 6,000. Arrived early. Nice even lot. Many farmers in town and the show’s exchequer buldged with “chink.” A $2,000,000 court house stands here, a rather imposing structure for so small a town.
Springfield, Ill. Friday, September 4. C. & A. R. R. 45 miles. Pop. 27,800. Arrived early, but were late in getting to the lot. The parade was one hour late. The streets were crowded. A big reception was given Senator Palmer here to-day upon his return from Indianapolis, where he was chosen the presidential candidate by the sound money Democrats. Slight rain during the afternoon performance. Clarinda Lowanda, widow of the late Mr. Joe Parsons, again visited. Phil Zimmerman visited by his wife and many old friends. Business good.
Decatur, Ill. Saturday, September 5. I. C. R. R. 41 miles. Pop. 20,000. Arrived early. Good lot on race course. Charles Roy enjoyed a visit with the home folks, as this is where he resides. High wind all the afternoon, but did no damage. L. A. Matthew visited with a sister, whom he had not seen for ten years.
Indianapolis, Ind. Monday, September 7. J. D. & W. R. R. 152 miles. Pop. 106,000. Arrived late Sunday and were greeted by a large crowd of spectators, who viewed with great interest the unloading of our long trains and the pitching of our enormous tents. Although Monday was Labor Day and was initiated by a large 9 o’clock labor parade, yet when the “World’s Greatest” pageant moved upon the scene at 10 o’clock it found the paved streets fairly alive with humanity. At times it was difficult to force a passage way so great was the throng, but it did not end here. As one, they turned their faces toward the show grounds and filled our massive tents so completely that we were compelled to close the doors. The night was only a repetition of the afternoon. Among our visitors we noticed Messrs. Ben Wallace, La Pearl and Tony Pastor. Will DeMott was visited by his wife and child. Oscar Puckett by his wife and sister. Slater by his wife. Miss Rose Da Coma by her father. Ed Henderson by his father. Fred Madison resumed his duties after an absence of two weeks. Alf T. left for Texas, our next battlefield.
Seymour, Ind. Tuesday, September 8. Panhandle R. R. 59 miles. Pop. 7,000. Arrived early. Fine lot near fair grounds. Blanche Fox suddenly evinced a desire to learn to be an acrobat, but the united efforts of Da Coma and Royer could not induce her to attempt a “back.”
Louisville, Ky. Wednesday, September 9. Panhandle R. R. 61 miles. Pop. 162,000. Arrived early. Long haul. Lot on Oak street. Big G. A. R. reunion opened here to-day and their parade ran across our front and gave us a wait of fifteen minutes. During parade Domingo, one of the horses on the third band wagon, got his foot fastened in the street car track, which detained them so long that they lost the parade. Although this was our first visit here we were compelled to turn many away, as all available space was filled. Mrs. DeMott returned home after a pleasant visit of three days.
Huntingburg, Ind. Thursday, September 10. L. E. & St. L. R. R. 75 miles. Pop. 3,000. Arrived late. A very weedy, dusty lot. Parade at 11:30. Business fair. A new feature introduced in the performance here which Billy De Mott claims is his idea, viz: two principal riding acts in the same ring at the same time. To say it was a go is expressing it feebly, and he and Mike Rooney share the honors between them. Martinho Lowanda rode his first act with the “World’s Greatest” here. Mrs. Piccardo, wire performer, joined.
Evansville, Ind. Friday. September 11. L. E. & St. L. R. R. 48 miles. Pop. 51,000. Arrived early. Nice lot one mile from railroad. Very hot and dusty. This was the fourth show here this season, but business was big. I. N. Bronson, musician, joined, and H. Stull closed.
Princton, Ind. Saturday, September 12. L. E. & St. L. R. R. 85 miles. Pop. 6,000. Arrived early. Lot only a short distance from the runs, but a mile and a half from the public square. Dust a foot deep. This was the last day of the fair here, which had reduced the price of admission to fifteen cents; but they were circus hungry and the big tent was again filled. The Emma Warren Co. were again visitors, also Dick Borsch. Mr. and Mrs. James R. Adams closed to join “A Night with a Circus” Co. Little Austin Levis accompanied them as far as his home, while Mrs. Levis signed with the show for the balance of season.
Olney, Ill. Monday, September 14. L. E. & St. L. and P. D. & E. R. R.s. 50 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived early Sunday morning and many remarks were made about the quiet work of the men as they unloaded our monster trains. Will Van Cleve visited many friends here, this being his former home. Frank Prevost also found manny familiar faces. One of our panthers died here from the excessive heat.
Centralia, Ill. Tuesday, September 15. P. D. & E. and L. E. & St. L. R. R.s. 80 miles. Arrived early. Nice lot in fair ground. Big crowd and big business. Harry Goettchus visited, got the fever and “joined out.”
Murphysboro, Ill. Wednesday, Sept. 16. I. C. R. R. 65 miles. Pop. 7,500. Arrived early. Lot near Logan Park, so named in honor of Jno. A. Logan, who once resided here. This always was a Ringling town, so not necessary to state crowds or business. Alfred Hastings, back door Frenchy, left here to enter a Chicago hospital for treatment for the asthma.
Cape Girardeau, Mo. Thursday, Sept. 17. C. & T. R. R. 45 miles. Pop. 6,000. We ferried the river here, consequently were late in getting up on the lot, which was on the bank of the river just north of town. A high wind prevailed all afternoon, which was full of dust.
Poplar Bluff, Mo. Friday, September 18. Iron Mountain R. R. 100 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived very late. Lot close to railroad, just across the river from the town. Considerable difficulty in getting our wagons under the low railroad bridge. Paraded at 3 o’clock p. m. Afternoon show out at 6:30. Burt Buchanan was met here by his sweetheart from Lincoln, Neb., and they were quietly made man and wife. The “World’s Greatest” extends congratulations.
Little Rock, Ark. Saturday, September 19. Iron Mountain R. R. 185 miles. Pop. 26,000. Arrived in good time. The same old lot and the same long haul. The same long parade and the same packed business. This tells the story of Little Rock season after season, no exceptions.
Ft. Smith, Ark. Monday, September 21. L. R. & Ft. Smith R. R. 165 miles. Pop. 12,000. Arrived Sunday noon. Good level lot one block from Main street, near the court house. It rained all day Sunday and Sunday night, but cleared up by 10 o’clock Monday morning and the parade was crowned by sunshine. Sixty feet middle pieces were put in our big top here for the first time. The U. S. prison and U. S. court house are located here. Business enormous.
South McAlester, I. T. Tuesday, Sept. 22. C. O. & Gulf R. R. 103 miles. Pop. 2,000. Arrived late owing to long run. Unloaded almost on the lot. Parade went out at 12:30 and we were introduced to the worst streets of the season. Frank Webb, of the northern division of Indian police, was detailed by Capt. Ellis to escort the show through the territory.
Oklahoma City, O. T. Wednesday, Sept. 23. C. O. & G. R. R. 120 miles. Pop. 12,000. Arrived late, another long run over a reckless road bed, however the lot was close and the show started on time.
Guthrie, O. T. Thursday. September 24. A., T. & S. F. R. R. 35 miles. Pop. 10,000. Arrived early. Lot in fair ground and very weedy. The parade was greeted by crowded thoroughfares and many were the exclamations of surprise and delight as we moved along.
Ardmore, I. T. Friday, September 25. A., T. & S. F. R. R. 137 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived late. A very dusty haul to lot, which was almost as hard as rock. Every stake driven with difficulty, but in time the canvas was up, the tents were filled and the usual daily routine followed.
Gainesville, Tex. Saturday, Sept. 26. A., T. & S. F. R. R. 45 miles. Pop. 12,000. Arrived early. A nice lot and a nice, cool day, the rain of the preceding night having cooled the atmosphere and laid the dust. If our first stand in Texas is any criterion, look out for us.
Dallas, Tex. Monday, September 28. M., K. & T. R. R. 90 miles. Pop. 40,000. Arrived early Sunday a. m. Rain Sunday morning, which made the lot rather “mucky,” but after old Sol showed his face the mud soon disappeared. This town was our first opposition stand in Texas. For months the billing brigades had been utilizing every available space until Dallas was literally covered with a gorgeous panorama of dazzling circus posters, the “World’s Greatest” predominating everywhere. It was sad, but true, that after our would-be exterminators, the “grand consolidation of inflated aphorisms,” had jumped over 1,500 miles, cancelled all other routes, just to make us die a youthful death, they were compelled to accept “crow,” as the politicians would say, for their portion, and see us depart from the battle field covered with glory and crowned with laurels, with the huzzas and plaudits of the Dallas world still ringing in our ears. September 28th was surely “Ringling Day.” So great was the concourse of people who wished to attend the afternoon performance that, in spite of the fact that all our extras were utilized, also every inch of available space, over 5,000 were turned from the doors with “no more roam.” The night house was a repetition of the afternoon. We were weighed in the balance and the other side went “straight up,” so great is our weight with the people of Dallas. “Junk shops” must not compete with “modern ideas.” Just before the doors were opened at night, Jack Snellan was called into the big top and presented with a fine $70 Knight Templar watch charm, a beautiful design set with six diamonds and nine rubies, by the working people of the show, as a token of their deep regard. W. A. Patrick made the presentation, and “Happy Jack” responded with a few well chosen words.
Ft. Worth, Tex. Tuesday, September 29. C. G. & S. F. R. R. 89 miles. Pop. 24,000. Arrived late. Short haul and a good lot at end of Main street. Dan Lester, an old circus clown, was here, sick and in needy circumstances. A purse of $50.00 was presented to him by friends with the show. Mrs. Peri presented her husband with a pin, a horseshoe set with diamonds and rubies. This was the second contested point in Texas and victory perched on our banners.
Waco, Tex. Wednesday, September 30. M., K. & T. R. R. 88 miles. Pop. 15,000. Arrived early. Good lot; short haul. The streets were a mass of humanity and business was immense in spite of the “wait” bills and false reports circulated by the “combination”(?) of our would-be rivals.
Taylor, Tex. Thursday, October 1. I. & G. N. R. R. 77 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived late. The streets were very heavy and it was with great difficulty our heavy wagons were hauled to and from the lot. In the parade the big band wagon mired so frequently that the band walked to the lot. Oscar Puckett, musician, closed. Fourth Texas knockout for “antiquity.”
Austin, Tex. Friday, October 2. I. & G. N. R. R. 35 miles. Pop. 15,000. Owing to a passenger train being wrecked ahead of us we were detained and did not arrive until late. Short haul, but sandy. Good lot. One of the finest State houses in the United States is to be found here and also one of the largest dams ever built, being 65 feet high and 100 feet in length. Many of the show visited both places. Business tremendous.
San Antonio, Tex. Saturday, October 3 I. & G. N. R. R. 81 miles. Pop. 37,000. Arrived early. Railroad lot and only a few steps from the sleepers to the dressing room. This town contains many points of interest, among which the most prominent are the San Fernando cathedral, one of the oldest in the country; the Alamo, where Davy Crockett was killed by the Mexicans; and San Pedro Springs, where is a fine collection of rare animals. Several of the boys purchased Chihuahua dogs here and also the dressing room was enlivened by several species of “Polly want a cracker?” Opposition here, but we didn’t know it. Business big.
Cuero, Tex. Monday, October 5. San Antonio & Aransas Pass R. R. 103 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived Sunday a. m. Royer, Leondor, Peri and Haley all go gunning and surprise the “gang” with 79 pigeons and quails, also 1 jack rabbit. Owing to our long run out of here only one show was given and in consequence the canvas was tested to its fullest capacity. During a street brawl here to-day among the natives, one Mexican was stabbed to the heart, another all cut up and a white man had his ears bitten off.
Houston, Tex. Tuesday, October 6. S. A. & A. P. R. R. 135 miles. Pop. 40,000. Arrived early. Short haul and nice lot near the I & G. N. depot. This was our first appearance in this city, but crowded streets greeted the parade, and crowded seats greeted the performance.
Galveston, Tex. Wednesday, October 7. G. C. & S. F. R. R. 50 miles. Pop. 50,000. Arrived early. Very sandy lot only a short distance from the “famous” beach to be found here. A light fall drizzle all day, but did not seem to affect business. Nothing but fish and oysters “went” on the bill of fare. This is quite a watering place and no less than twenty-six millionaires own fine residences here.
Brenham, Tex. Thursday, October 8. G. C. & S. F. R. R. 126 miles. Pop. 7,500. Arrived very late. Afternoon show began at 3:30. A negro, while attempting to alight from a moving train near our sleepers, fell under and both of his legs were severed completely from his body.
Navasota, Tex. Friday, October 9. C. G. & S. F. R. R. 40 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived early. Short haul as lot was by the side of the railroad. There were ten black to one white person here. Dan Leon caught a monster grasshopper which certainly was a wonder in size. Art Dacoma also became the proud possessor of a centipede, which was eight inches long. He will have it pickled for future reference.
Temple, Tex. Saturday, October 10. C. G. & S. F. R. R. 105 miles. Pop. 7,000. Long run, but arrived early. Lot at the end of Main street. Everybody for miles around were in to see the “World’s Greatest.” During the afternoon performance a sudden wind came very near creating a panic in the big top, but cool heads soon quieted the excitement and the performance proceeded. Several of the side show paintings were badly torn and a long rent in the big canvas were the total damages. The show began in “midsummer,” and closed in “midwinter,” but such is Texas weather. During the night performance Katy Hughes fell from her trapeze, sustaining a badly fractured wrist. Business good.
Paris, Tex. Monday. October 12. G. C. & S. F. R. R. 256 miles. Pop. 9,000. Arrived Sunday 5 o’clock p. in. Stopped en route, in Dallas and fed. Nice lot in the eastern part of town though quite a long haul. A passenger train coming into the station ran on the side track where our sleepers stood, badly wrecking the “Alvena.” Several of our people had narrow escapes. Gilpatrick, a driver, while exploring near the horse tents, fell into an old well 25 feet deep. He was rescued, unhurt, after being almost covered with life preservers. Business big.
Honey Grove, Tex. Tuesday, October 13. G. C. & S. F. R. R. 40 miles. Pop. 2,000. Arrived early. Nice railroad lot. Last night the “Durga,” a Pullman sleeper, was added to our train, while the “Alvena” was sent in for repairs. Mrs. Hugh Harrison seriously ill. Billy De Mott unable to ride, sprained ankle the cause. Lots of people in town and lots of people in the circus.
McKinney, Tex. Wednesday, October 14. G. C. & S. F. R. R. and S. S. & S. R. R. 59 miles. Pop. 6,000. Arrived early. Nice lot and a medium haul. While being sidetracked this a. m. the last section was backed into a line of box cars with such force as to cause many heads to bump against the partitions. The chef in the diner also was very seriously scalded. Several members of the Sells’ show visited and witnessed a full house. Opposition here with “antiquity,” which comes in on the morrow.
Sulphur Springs, Tex. Thursday, Oct. 15. S. S. & S. R. R. 62 miles. Pop. 4,000. Arrived early. Nice lot close to cemetery. Streets again crowded with people and many were the exclamations of surprise and delight as feature after feature of our street pageant passed. After the afternoon show, the band, drivers and many others who are connected with the show, adjourned to the adjacent cemetery, gathered around the grave of Horace Savage, an old circus driver who is buried here, and after a few appropriate remarks by W. H. Van Cleve the band played a feeling dirge. Thus it is these old veterans of show business are remembered.
Greenville, Tex. Friday, October 16. S. S. & S. R. R. 32 miles. Pop. 8,000. Arrived early. Good lot, short distance from railroad. Owing to necessary repairs in the kitchen of the “diner” our dinner was cooked out of doors a la picnic style. The sleeping car “Durga” was called in and a day coach was added instead, one end of which said, “For Whites,” the other, “For Blacks.” We did not learn how the people were classified who occupied it. Business here was tremendous.
Denison, Tex. Saturday, October 17. M., K. & T. R. R. 58 miles. Pop. 12,000. Arrived early. Nice lot on Main street five blocks from railroad. The horse tents were pitched four blocks farther. Al Weaver, musician from the Sells and Forepaugh show, visited.
Waxahachie, Tex. Monday, October 19. M., K. & T. R. R. 135 miles. Pop. 6,000. Arrived Sunday 12:30 p. m. Fine lot one mile east of public square. This is one of the principal cotton centers of the United States. They are also just completing a fine stone court house here which will cost $200,000. While en route here the “Alvena” was added, having been in the shops just one week. Business here was immense and the “World’s Greatest” added laurels to its already famous reputation.
Hillsboro, Tex. Tuesday, October 20. M., K. & T. R. R. 35 miles. Pop. 4,000. Arrived early. Short haul and lot three blocks from the public square. A man was shot and killed here this morning by a deputy marshal whom he had assaulted. While the crowds were passing through the menagerie after the matinee, one of our elephants trumpeted, almost causing a stampede of the populace. For a moment enough guns were flashed to secure the freedom of the Cubans.
Cleburne, Tex. Wednesday, October 21. M., K. & T. and Santa Fe R. R.s. 40 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived early. Short haul, lot one block from railroad. Showers of rain at night. Closing date and stand given for the first time. Business good. Gilletti and troupe of trained monkeys closed.
Weatherford, Tex. Thursday, October 22. G. C. & S. F. R. R. 40 miles. Pop. 4.000. Arrived early. Lot in the country one and one-half miles out. Rain all day and a very muddy lot. On account of long haul and incessant rain no night show was given. Walter, the Chimpanzee, one of the principal features of the menagerie, died here. Chas. Andrews joined.
Terrell, Tex. Friday, October 23. T. & P. R. R. 90 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived early. The heavy rains made the streets so “mucky” that all attempts to reach the lot were abandoned after the first heavy wagons went down to the hubs. The day was spent in purchasing rubber goods, etc., feeding stock and getting the wagons reloaded. We left for Texarkana 4:30 p. m.
Texarkana, Tex. Saturday, October 24. T. & P. R. R. 190 miles. Pop. 9,000. Arrived early. Lot on the Texas side of the town. Very sandy soil, so the roads were much improved by late rains. In spite of cloudy weather and threatened rain, the people were in town and business was good. Wade Cockran and father closed.
Memphis, Tenn. Monday, October 26. St. L., I. M. & S. R. R. 293 miles. Pop. 70,000. Arrived 1 o’clock a. m. Monday. Long haul to lot at foot of Beale street. Early parade called. Opposition, but Memphis belongs to the “World’s Greatest,” and both performances were witnessed by audiences that filled to overflowing our immense canvas. The Ruppel sisters visited. Gallagher, wardrobe man, “blew” at night, and Guy Repasz and Al Hunt mourned the loss of their two Mexican dogs and a pair of pants, in consequence. W. F. Zimmerman closed. W. Vogt, our treasurer, was the recipient of a fine present from the bosses of the “World’s Greatest,” which consisted of a combination cane and umbrella with silver mountings, beautifully engraved. Wm. E. Pinkerton, of the famous detective agency in Chicago of that name, was a visitor, and inspected the efficient force of detectives supplied to the show by his concern.
Tupelo, Miss. Tuesday, October 27. K. C., M. & B. R. R. 106 miles. Pop. 3,000. Arrived 8 a. m. Short haul to lot. The parade did not appear until 11:30 o’clock. The entire line of march was one continuous mass of humanity. The door of the side show was closed four times and the big top was a pleasing sight to see - all the seats, extras, and hippodrome track - nothing but a sea of faces. Good-bye, Tupelo, we’ll see you again. Dick Hunter. W. D. Coxey and John Ringling were back to see us. Railroad maps were the order of the day, and many puzzled heads figured “just where we will be at.”
Macon, Miss. Wednesday, October 28. M. & O. R. R. 100 miles. Pop. 3,500. Arrived on time. Town black with the colored population. Coffey, the skeleton dude, joined here. Business big.
West Point, Miss. Thursday, October 29. M. & O. R. R. 36 miles. Pop. 5,000. Arrived early and good lot near the Southern railroad. The Female Seminary attended the show in a body. Owing to a long run ahead only one show was billed. Cloud burst in the afternoon. This was a very wet town, also very “dry.”
Birmingham, Ala. Friday, October 30. M. & O. & K. C.. M. & B. R. R.s. 140 miles. Pop. 40,000. Arrived late. Lot near the “Southern” railroad shops. Parade left the lot at 12:15. First appearance of “The World’s Greatest” here and the show made a big hit. Tents were crowded at each performance, no attention being paid to the “wait” circulars of the opposition, and Birmingham was added to our list. Great iron industries here, the city being illuminated at night by the furnace fires.
Opelika, Ala. Saturday. October 31. Cent. of Geor. R. R. 128 miles. Pop. 4,500. Arrived late. Parade at 12:30. As usual, town crowded. An old darkey made the remark as we pulled into town, “Better keep on goin’ as they ain’t room in this town for you all show.” Students from the Auburn Military Academy, 10 miles distant, attended in a body. The dogs, Gyp and Chili, stolen in Memphis, were received here, thanks to the efficiency of the Memphis police.
Atlanta, Ga. Monday, November 2. Cent. of Ga. R. R. 231[?] miles. Pop. 85,000. Arrived Sunday 2 o’clock p. m. Lot in old ball park. Opposition here with the “same old thing,” but another glorious victory was added to our already long list. This was our first appearance here also, and on the eve of a national election, but we were filled - every inch of room - until we said, “No more.” It was with difficulty the performers reached the rings, so great was the vast concourse of people. At night over 10,000 were turned from the door. We numbered many distinguished persons in our audience, foremost among whom were: Hon. Hoke Smi
