Arresting Three Bears

1916

A great fondness for sweet things not long ago spoiled the vacation plans of three bad bears, who were touring the western coast with their trainer. Though not very dangerous, the bears were full of mischief, and needed careful watching. One day, however, they cleverly escaped from their cage, and made straight for the nearest woods. While the three chose a certain spot in the woods as their headquarters, they did not spend all their time there, but made several foraging raids before they were captured. The people near were filled with terror. The bears' trainer was also worried. They were valuable bears, and he wanted them to come home.

Suddenly a friend remembered one of the tricks the three had often performed together — eating cookies and drinking sweetened water from a bottle. There wasn't anything they liked better than sweetened water, and they never failed to scent it long before it reached them. Perhaps the rogues could be trapped by this same treat; there was no harm in trying it, at any rate.

Loading an automobile with a number of bottles filled with sweetened water, one of the men set off toward the bears' rendezvous. Long before the man was within hailing distance, the three thirsty bears scented the treat in store for them and rolled rapidly up to the car. The man in the car slackened his speed, and the clumsy beasts climbed in, seated themselves, and greedily snatched the bottles they found. The car moved slowly off, and three cheerful prisoners were carried back to their cage. — Kings' Treasuries.

Stage Signals

1901

There are a number of ways of giving the signal which warns the leader of the theater orchestra that the curtain is about to rise. The most common in American theaters is the illumination by electricity of a common incandescent bulb placed in front of the conductor. Many players, however, follow the English custom of having the ring of a bell as a signal. This has the advantage of giving notice alike to the players behind the curtain and the orchestra and the audience in front.

The French players employ the system, but not the bells. A stout club rapped loudly on the stage floor does duty instead. Two raps constitute the one minute signal and three as the final notice. The reason for the cumbersome method is that of precedent, for the call is that of the Theatre Francais. — Chicago Tribune.

Dog Rides a Dray Horse

1910

Sight Arouses Wonder and Applause of Tourists in Los Angeles

The old myth of the six-legged beast that rode the fiery steed is outclassed by a latter-day miracle in the achievement of a four-legged dog which rides a draught horse.

The record of past performances, barring allowances for nature faking, gives the story book performer the best of it in an account of a flight over the Arno, but for easy, safe locomotion, the dog, namely one Bob of Los Angeles, Cal., won all the blue ribbons in a spectacular tour of the downtown district, sitting, with a bland professional air, on the back of the big truck horse drawing a dray.

Tourists, natives, autoists, shoppers, oafs, louts and loungers stopped boosting the climate long enough to marvel and applaud. The horse has a back as big as a pool table, and the dog would be able to stick on if it had only two legs, but this does not lessen its pride in its achievement, and it is with the utmost condescension that it regards ordinary curs walking primitively on the ground.

The owner of the dog and horse, also placid and fat, with a broad back, modestly avoids the white light of publicity, content in the reflected glory of Bob and Jack, and refuses to give the address of the interesting pair.

Women are Peacocks at Heart

1920

New York. — "Every woman in the world is a peacock at heart."

So says Dolores, termed the most beautiful creature God ever made by Florenz Ziegfeld in whose Midnight Frolic she appears, and the only actual human peacock in existence!

Women, according to Dolores, cannot resist the impulse to make themselves beautiful any more than can the peacock, although that kingly bird is the male of his species. And this impulse begins almost as soon as a girl is able to talk as a baby.

"I have noted the impulse in girl babies as young as 18 months." says Dolores. "Even at that age a girl baby will crow with delight over a pretty dress that particularly strikes her fancy. And when a girl is four years old the instinct is fully developed and she begins to take interest in ribbons, laces, and all sorts of things to enhance her childish beauty.

"With maturity comes the desire not only to make herself beautiful in her own eyes but the eyes of her boy friends as well. And with young womanhood comes the desire to hold whatever good looks she has, for at that age a woman instinctively realizes that beauty is a fleeting thing.

"Every woman knows that clothes — good clothes — enhance her beauty and for that reason she longs for and gets if possible the pretty things she thinks will show her charms to the greatest advantage.

"It is that instinct that has always made impossible and always will make impossible that foolish idea about standardizing women's dress."

Whistling Vaudeville Perform Tells Benefits of Whistling

Indiana, 1906

Whistler Talks

Harry Antrim, who is doing a whistling stunt with Miss Yetta Peters at the Temple this week, has achieved quite a reputation in his line of work. Antrim is a clever imitator and his act gets him much applause. "I was fired from the Philadelphia Record for whistling and I have been whistling for a living ever since," he said this morning. Mr. Antrim claims that if there would be more people use whistling as an exercise there would be less consumption in the country. How many people are always complaining of their throat and lungs. And why? Because they are not properly developed. Take whistling for instance, just the ordinary scales, the kind you play on the piano. Instead of playing them whistle them just as low and as loud as you can and I am sure you will be benefited by it in a short time. It causes the chest to expand and materially develops the lungs."


At The Temple

This afternoon and evening — High-class vaudeville.

The matinee at the Temple this afternoon will begin at 2 o'clock in order to give the performers time for the special vaudeville performance that will be given at Robison park for the street car magnates.

—Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, Fort Wayne, Indiana, Sept. 27, 1906, p. 7.

A Prima Donna's Triumph

1878

Patti had a stirring time of it at Naples. When she arrived they declined to receive her at the Hotel Royal, and she had to go to the Nobile.

She was in high dudgeon, refused to rehearse, and in consequence found an audience as cold as stone. In less than an hour she sang the whole house into warmth, enthusiasm, frantic delight — it was the "Traviata" — and the next morning the papers made positive excuses. Nay more, the committee of the theater came to pay her the unusual honor of a visit in state. She refused to see them.

Expectation was on tiptoe as to her reception the next night. It was feared she would be hissed. Not at all. She sang the "Barbier," and with the same effect as before, her voice acting on their premeditated sulkiness like the rising sun on mists. In the scene in which she has to spell the name of Rosina she kept one high note so long that the unhappy baritone who accompanied her — and not a bad one either — had to stop three times for breath, she mocking him with a look the while.

Naples gave up all idea of resistance and took up its old position at her feet. She received $1,900 a night, with a right to half the surplus when the receipts exceed $3,900. On the night of the "Barbier" they took $5,700 at the doors; she therefore received an extra $950, or a total of about $2,850 for the night's work, not counting her bonus of revenge!

Hypnotist Team Mystifying, Amusing Audiences

Davenport, IA, 1903

THE FLINTS ARE MYSTIFYING AND PLEASING MANY

Their Performances At the Burtis Convulse Audiences With Laughter

Although the fight against hypnotism is at its height among the learned professors of the country, Prof. and Mrs. Herbert L. Flint are not so busily engaged in defending hypnotism as they are in presenting to the public some of the most laughable comedy performances by aid of hypnotic suggestions. There is nothing suggestive or degrading in their entertainments. Everything is on a high moral plane, and under the influence of Mrs. Herbert L. Flint, a bewitching, winsome woman, clad in the prettiest of gowns, which are themselves worthy of going to see, the subjects on the stage are carried from one amusing situation to another, each bringing out point after point of their natural humor until the youngest and oldest in the audience descend to one common plane of tearful laughter. The only thing that has marred the pleasure of Davenport audiences, who have seen the Flints this week, is their sympathy for Mrs. Flint, who is suffering from a badly wrenched ankle, an accident which befell her on her arrival in this city.

—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, IA, March 18, 1903, p. 7.

'Crash Of Death' Stunt Driver In Hair-Raising Performance

Ogden, Utah, 1937

STUNTER FLIPS AUTO ON BACK

'Crash Of Death' Performed Before Small Crowd At Stadium

Before a small and shivering crowd of spectators, Jerry Edwards, 32-year-old Detroit stunt driver, presented his hair-raising "crash of death" performance Saturday night in the Ogden stadium.

"This is one of the smallest crowds I've ever showed before," Edwards told the onlookers through a loud-speaking system. "But I have to work just as hard for you as I do when I perform before 20,000 people, as I have often done."

PRECEDES CAMPAIGN

Edwards was brought here under the auspices of the junior chamber of commerce as the forerunner of a county-wide safety week campaign sponsored by a citizens' safety council, comprising Ogden service clubs.

The climax to the show, in which Edwards used two stock light sedans, came when the dare-devil sped his crimson machine up a wooden platform, crashing full somersault and bottoms-up again on the sodded field.

NO SERIOUS HURTS

During the four years Edwards has been presenting his death-defying stunts, he has never suffered serious injury, although he has been put out of "commission" temporarily and unable to finish his show.

"The best thing to do when you have a flat tire is to step on the gas — not the brakes," Edwards told the crowd.

He said one of the best precautions against accidents is to keep both hands firmly on the steering wheel.

—The Ogden Standard-Examiner, Ogden City, Utah, May 9, 1937, page 10A.

Heber Brothers Circus - Ponies, Dogs, and Monkeys

Ohio, 1911

CIRCUS TO-NIGHT.

Heber Brothers Will Show Under Canvas on West Main Street.

Heber Brothers' Shows, presenting circus, minstrels and vaudeville, will exhibit to-night, on the lots adjoining The Auditorium. The program presents leading acts of the circus ring and the minstrel and vaudeville stage. The band will play a free concert before the opening of the doors of the main entrance. The act and features of the show are: Rollo H. Heber and his performing Ponies, Dogs and Monkeys; the Flying LaVons, Trapeze and Roman Ring Aerialists; Big Four Clowns in Ludicrous Stunts, the Acrobatic Franklins; Burn and Burns, International Spectacular Dances; Heber Bros. in their famous Comedy Acts; the Jeffersons, in sketch "Vacation Time;" the Anthoneys, Slack Wire Artists and Contortion Equilibrists, In the Minstrels, Lon Washburn, Ed Fox, LeRoy Barrett and Geo. Heber endmen, Reginald Jefferson, Interlocutor, with other blacked face comedians introducing Funny Songs, Jokes and Dances.

—The Van Wert Daily Bulletin, Van Wert, Ohio, July 7, 1911, page 3.

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.]