Sideshow: The Wild Australian Children and the English Giant

1915

Side Lights On The Circus Business
By D. W. Watt

In the review of side show freaks and curiosities of last week, there were two great features of side shows [*] years ago that were overlooked, and these were Tom and Hattie, known as the wild Australian children, and Henry Cooper, the English giant.

Tom and Hattie perhaps made more money for their employers than any attraction in the business. They were called the wild Australian children, and were supposed to have been captured after a long excited chase in the wilds of Australia, but as I did not participate in the capture, I will not vouch for the truth of this statement.

Tom and Hattie were the one great feature in the side show of the Adam Forepaugh show for many years. They were brother and sister, and both had the same attendants, whose business it was to look after them and see that they were cared for in the best possible way.

Hattie had a bright disposition and everything seemed to please her, and she was everybody's friend, but Tom, the brother was quite different. He was naturally a grouch, and hard to please, and for some unknown reason he took a great dislike to me from the first time I ever saw him. Any time when I happened to walk in the side show, while Tom could not talk, he would give me a bad look, grit his teeth and clinch his fists, which meant that I had better keep my distance.

One day John A. Forepaugh, who was manager of the show and owner of the privileges as well, came to the ticket wagon and said: "Dave, you talk about standing room, you could not put a dozen more people in the side show, unless you put the press on them. I never saw such a big crowd. Run over and take look."

I went to the side show, and was just able to get inside, when Tom away across the tent spied me and he seemed to be wild with rage, and without thinking, I clinched one of my fists and shook it at him and he immediately jumped from the stand on which he was exhibited into the crowd and let a yell out of him, and in ten minutes everybody had made their escape from under the side walls. Tom was put back on his platform and sat down hard, with instructions to never get up until he was told.

I also made my escape to the ticket wagon, and a minute later had orders from Mr. Forepaugh from then on to keep out of the side show.

Henry Cooper the English giant was brought to this country by Adam Forepaugh on a three year contract. Cooper stood about eight foot four, and while he was not fleshy, he weighed around 400 pounds. Everything Cooper wore had to be made to order, and his boots were a sight to look at. Cooper once told a story about an old lady visiting him in the side show and after looking him over carefully, she said, "Young man, can you tell me how tall you are?" Cooper said, "No madam, not in feet and inches, but I am so tall that I cannot tell when my feet get cold."

The old lady took a look at Cooper's ponderous feet for a few seconds, and then said, "You are certainly fortunate," and without a smile on her face, passed on to the next stand to take a look at the fat woman.

For some years in this country Henry Cooper was a feature in the side shows, and in the winter in a dime museum.

A few days ago Mary A. Forepaugh, wife of the late John Forepaugh, died at her home in Philadelphia. Her husband, John Forepaugh, was the youngest brother of the great showmen, and Aunt Mary, as she was known around the show, was a bright cheery woman, and a great favorite of her brother-in-law, Adam Forepaugh, and at the opening in Philadelphia every spring, Aunt Mary could be found in the private box of Adam Forepaugh. At the close of the engagement there she made it her business to visit everyone around the show, and bid them farewell, always saying that she hoped to see them there the next spring. Many an old timer in the business will mourn her loss.

One of the wittiest and most original of the old-time circus jesters was Johnny Paterson, the self styled "Rambler from Clare," who was a true son of the "Land of the Shamrock" and racy of the old sod. He was not a tumbling clown, knockabout or a pantomimic buffoon; but he was a talking and singing jester, who relied upon his fund of natural humor and glib flit of repartee to excite the hilarity of his listeners.

Patterson came to this country, direct from Ireland, about 1879, under contract to the Cooper & Bailey Great London show, and after remaining one season with that organization, he joined the forces of John B. Doris and toured for four seasons with the Doris Inter-Ocean show. Although "blessed with the cause of conviviality" — as they say in Ireland, Patterson managed to accumulate a tidy sum out of his weekly wage, and with this he returned to his native land and bought a half interest in a small circus managed by a man named Keely.

The show was re-christened the Keely & Patterson shows, and enjoyed deserved popularity, playing in the small Irish towns and cities. After the death of his partner, Patterson married Mrs. Keely. He continued to delight his countrymen with his songs and witticisms until he was laid low with the quick consumption after a brief illness. He died in August 1889, at the small town of Tralee, in the south of Ireland, while the rain poured in torrents upon the canvas roof of the dressing tent. Despite the pleadings of his faithful wife, he refused to be moved to the hotel or local hospital, declaring with the true circus spirit that if death was coming to meet him "on the lot."

Johnny Patterson was one of the first clowns to impress himself on my juvenile memory. I saw him with the Doris show, and many years after I had an interesting talk about him with the late John B. Doris. What made Patterson so unique a figure among the clown of his day was the spontaneity of his wit and his fresh and unconventional humor. He did not peddle around a stale bag of hackneyed jokes. Often, as Mr. Doris told me, he would bound into the ring and take the ringmaster by surprise with a batch of unpremeditated jokes that sprang from his Celtic imagination on the spur of the moment, and as fast as he could utter them. Possessed of a fine light baritone voice that would not have been amiss in romantic opera, he sang with excellent effect such songs of his own composition as "Bridget Donoughue," "The Rambler from Clare," "The Garden Where the Praties Grow," and "There Never was a Coward Where the Shamrock Grows."

Even when death was staring him in the face, Patterson retained his flow of fun and philosophy. He was in very truth the Sir Lucius O'Trigger of the circus arena. The doctor who attended him in the dressing tent the night he died, remarked: "Well, Patterson, I'll be around and see you in the morning."

"Ah, yes, Doctor, you'll see me," said Johnny, "but will I see you?" The dying clown's words were prophetically true, for when the doctor came to the circus lot in the morning Johnny Patterson's eyes were closed in the eternal sleep.

—Janesville Daily Gazette, Janesville, Wisconsin, January 2, 1915, page 3.

[*]The article says "80 years ago" but that hardly sounds possible, since these are the author's memories, and in another article he says he was traveling in the 1870s. Probably should be 40.]