tried to run this game as a purely moral and instructive entertainment,
but we need the money and I reckon we've got to spring a cold deck on
'em. I guess you've got to stand for being attacked by an untamable,
man-eating python.'
"'You can count me out on that,' says I. 'Every paper in the city would
write me up as a victim of the demon Rum.' Merritt looked discouraged
for a minute, but his face suddenly lighted up and I knew he had found a
way.
"'Jim,' says he, 'if we only take half of our usual allowance of
fire-water to-night we will have enough cash to buy some paint. Now
there's that big white python; the only specimen ever captured, the
"pythonatus fluidum lactalis giganticus,"' says he. That was one trouble
with Merritt; he'd get so stuck on the language which he manufactured
that he couldn't leave it out, even in our business consultations, and
it used up a lot of time. 'That python is the straight goods,' says he,
'but he doesn't catch their eyes, so I'll paint the blame snake red,
white and blue and christen him the "anacondus flagelum americanibus e
pluribus unum," and give the reporters something to work on,' says he.
'That'll work up the snakologists and set 'em writing in the papers to
prove that there isn't any such thing; but we've got the answer to
that, for we can show 'em one at twenty-five cents per.'
"I never could stand for flim-flamming the generous public, but my meal
ticket was punched so full of holes that it looked like a porous
plaster, and I consented. Merritt spent most of the night decorating
that python, and in the morning it looked like the pennant of a
man-o'-war. I had to sit up and watch him, for he had the artistic
temperament, and he was so carried away by his enthusiasm that if I
hadn't restrained him he would have put on the coat-of-arms of the
United States, eagle, motto and all.
"'Now,' says he, when he had finished and stepped back to admire his
work, 'if that blame snake's own mother would know him if she met him on
the street, I'm a Dutchman. If this don't make 'em sit up and take
notice, then I'll go to night school to learn the show business.'"
"How did the scheme work?" asked the Proprietor, as the Press Agent
paused to make the grand hailing sign of distress to the waiter.
"Work!" he answered. "How does a fake always work in New York? Why, P.
T. Barnum had the mold for his petrified man made from the legs of one
man and the body of another, and he didn't even take the trouble to
smooth off the ridges where the edges met when he cast it in Portland
cement. But that didn't prevent all of the scientific sharps who
inspected it from certifying to its genuineness. His mermaid was
manufactured from a codfish skin and a stuffed monkey; but the public
stood for that, too, and he made a fortune out of 'em. Maybe you can't
fool all of the people all of the time, but you can fool most of 'em
most of the time; especially if they live in little old New York. Of
course, we didn't pull off such a success as Barnum did; but we had no
kick coming when we counted up the receipts for the next week. Merritt's
lecture was a work of art and he manufactured language at a rate which
would have given Noah Webster nervous prostration when he christened the
python 'Old Glory,' and told about its combining the venomous qualities
of the cobra and the strength of the boa-constrictor. The python was so
stuck on its new colors that it nearly broke its neck turning around to
admire itself and everything went lovely. Of course, there was the usual
howl from the snakologists who knew it all, and 'Old Subscriber,'
'Citizen,' 'Pro Bono Publico' and the rest of the bunch wrote columns to
the newspapers, denouncing us as frauds.
[Illustration: _Grace snarled over the cubs._]
"You know how those things work; everybody puts up an argument and then
it's up to the fellow who is making the bluff to back it up with an
offer to donate a sum of money to some charitable institution if he
can't deliver the goods. We were well ahead of the game as a result of
the advertising and had about two thousand to the good and Merritt got
awful chesty. He had lied about that snake so much that he believed in
it himself and it made me a little nervous one night when he offered to
donate two thousand dollars to the 'Home for Decrepit Side Show Fakirs'
if any one could produce another specimen like this one, short of the
head waters of the Amazon. I wasn't scared so much by that as by what I
feared he might say, for I knew they couldn't get another if they raked
the universe with a fine-tooth comb, and sure enough, he was carried
away by his enthusiasm and offered to bet our entire bank roll that the
snake was a genuine 'American flag', such as had never been exhibited in
any country.
"It was just our luck that there was a half-loaded tin-horn gambler in
the audience that night; one of the kind that wears a yellow diamond and
a checked suit with a white stove-pipe hat; and the only part of the
speech that he understood was that somebody wanted to make a bet. That
raised his sporting blood, and he climbed up to the platform and pulled
out a roll of yellow boys that would choke a dog and peeled off twenty
centuries.
"'I don't know much about snakes which bromide won't make chase
themselves back to the woods,' says he as he plunked 'em down on the
table. 'I ain't got your gift of gab, but money talks and I've got this
pile to say that you can't tell the truth to save your neck. Just stack
up your pile alongside of that and then trot out your snakelet.' I was
feeling pretty sore on Merritt for making such a bluff, but, of course,
we had to make good and between us we covered the bet. We had glass
cages full of snakes all around the platform, but 'Old Glory' was in a
big chest covered with gilt figures and brass chains and fastened with a
padlock. Merritt was mad clear through at having his veracity
questioned, but he looked pretty confident as he stuck the key in the
lock.
"'It's a shame to take the money,' says he, as he eyed the gambler, 'but
there's an old saying about the mental capacity of a man that is
speedily separated from his bank roll, and I reckon you were away from
home the last time the fool killer called.' The gam just smiled and kept
his eye on the stakes, and Merritt gives the chains a rattle to wake up
'Old Glory' and throws back the lid of the chest.
"'Now,' says he, turning to the audience, 'if you'll kindly give me your
attention I'll show you one of the most marvelous mysteries of Nature.
It was procured by one of our special agents at the head waters of the
Amazon at tremendous expense. It is a unique representative of the
reptilian family and the sight of it should arouse pride in the hearts
of all patriotic Americans; for as he unwinds his sinuous coils you will
observe that while his head and neck are blue, the body, down to the
tip of the tail, is marked with thirteen alternate stripes of red and
white, giving this marvelous creature the appearance of being wrapped in
that glorious emblem of liberty which waves over the land of the brave
and the home of the free.' Merritt stops then, throwing out his chest
and sticking his hand into the bosom of his coat to wait for the
customary applause from the gallery to subside; but instead of the usual
glad hands he was greeted with a roar of laughter and cat-calls and when
he turned to look at the snake box, there was 'Old Glory' crawling out,
looking ashamed of himself, for he was as white as the day he was born."
"What happened?" asked the Proprietor as the Press Agent sighed.
"Well, Merritt always had presence of mind, and as the sport gathered up
our hard earned shekels he grabbed me by the arm and hurried me from the
building. He knew that a Bowery audience was apt to follow cat-calls
with antique eggs and vegetables of last season's vintage, and five
minutes later we were trying to drown our sorrow.
"'Jim,' says Merritt, 'I made a big mistake, for I should have tattooed
him. His beauty was only skin deep and the blame snake shed his
skin.'"
THE ANIMAL BAROMETER AND THE ETERNAL FEMININE
THE ANIMAL BAROMETER AND THE ETERNAL FEMININE
Uncle Sam spends a large amount of money to forecast the weather
twenty-four hours in advance, and the farmers and seafaring folk watch
the bulletins no more eagerly than do the owners of the many shows whose
harvest time is the brief summer season at Coney Island. Bad weather,
especially if it comes on the first or last day of the week or a legal
holiday, means a loss of hundreds of dollars to them, for if the skies
are threatening, the holiday makers seek their pleasures nearer home and
there are fewer people to give up their dimes and quarters under the
seductive wheedling of the "barkers." Most of the show people look
anxiously at the sky before retiring for the night, but there is one of
them who finds an absolutely reliable forecast within the walls of his
own building. Perhaps the signs and portents could not be translated by
the weather clerk, but the Proprietor of the trained animal exhibition
at Dreamland has been all of his life the companion of his charges, and
has learned to recognize the meaning of unusual behavior or the shade of
change in their voices which indicates an approaching storm.
There was not a cloud to be seen, and every star in the heavens was
trying to rival the brilliant electric lights on the great tower as he
sat at the cafe table in front of the Arena with the Stranger and the
Press Agent after the night's performance was over, but he gave an
exclamation of disappointment as a half-smothered roar came from the
throat of one of the lions in the building.
"Rain to-morrow!" he said as the grumbling roar spread from cage to cage
about the great semicircle. His companions smiled incredulously as they
looked at the cloudless sky, but he repeated his prediction when the
Stranger read "Fair and warmer to-morrow" from one of the evening
papers. "I know all about the 'high and low pressure areas,'" he said,
as he glanced at the chart. "A man in the show business has to study
everything which may influence the attendance, but the behavior of my
animals is a better barometer for local conditions than any aneroid
which the Weather Bureau owns. In spite of the clear sky and the
official predictions, I would wager that we shall have a bad storm
within the next twenty-four hours, for those lions have the inherited
knowledge of hundreds of generations of jungle-bred ancestors whose food
supply depended largely upon the weather conditions."
"Do the other animals possess the same barometric accomplishments?"
asked the Stranger skeptically, and the Proprietor laughed as he invited
him to come inside and judge for himself. The Arena was always an
uncanny place at night, for in the dim light only the glowing eyes of
the animals could be distinguished in the cages, and the snarls and
growls which came from behind the gratings conjured up visions of what
might happen if one of the animals were loose and crouching on the seats
of the auditorium or in the galleries, waiting for a meal of human
flesh; but to-night it was worse than usual, for the unwonted
restlessness of the animals was apparent even to the untrained senses of
the Stranger.
The carnivora in captivity retain the habits of their relatives of the
jungle and are more alert at night than in the daytime, but following a
hard day's work in the exhibition cage they usually settle down for a
few hours of sleep after receiving their evening allowance of meat.
Although it was long past their resting time, not an eye was closed, and
hundreds of pairs of bright spots were visible in the darkness as the
beasts paced uneasily from end to end of their narrow dens. The
elephants, whose arduous duties in the ring and on the ballyhoo brought
such leg weariness that they were usually glad to be shackled for the
night, were swaying their huge bodies from side to side and straining at
the stout chains which fastened them and the shrill trumpeting of Tom,
the largest one, was echoed and repeated by his companions, Roger and
Alice. The roaring of the lions and the snarling of the tigers was
mocked by the hideous laugh of the hyenas, and the discord of the
strange noises was so disagreeable that the Stranger was relieved when
they left the Arena and returned to the comparative quiet of the
white-topped table.
[Illustration: _"Every one of the great beasts jumped for her."_]
"It will be a severe storm," said the Proprietor as the waiter took
their orders. "Any impending change makes them uneasy, but when every
animal in the menagerie is in the state of excitement which you noticed
to-night you can be assured that it means a very decided disturbance. It
is a thing which animal trainers are ever watchful about, for most of
the training is done at night, and it is not safe to work with them when
they are in that frame of mind."
"But you give your advertised performances just the same," said the
Press Agent.
"That's a different matter," answered the Proprietor. "When the Arena is
lighted up and filled with people, the attention of the animals is
distracted and they forget their nervousness, but a rehearsal at night
is a lonesome proceeding, at best, and as the trainer devotes his
attention to a single animal at a time it leaves the others free to
think up mischief or to give way to their unreasoning fear. I had that
borne in upon me in a way I shall never forget a few years ago when I
was a younger hand at the business. I knew a good deal about handling
animals, but not as much about managing men as I have learned since, and
I used to forget that giving an order was not the same thing as seeing
that it was executed. There was a trainer named Barton in my employ who
did a pretty fair act with a group of six lions, but he was a brutal
sort of a chap and punished his animals so severely that they went
through their performance on the jump so as to get out of the exhibition
cage, where blows were more plentiful than kind words. His act was a
winner, all right, for he was absolutely fearless and the animals put up
a bluff of snarling and snapping which made it exciting, but I disliked
the man so much that I was glad to farm him out for a ten weeks'
engagement on the vaudeville circuit.
"He wasn't a bad-looking chap and when he came back from his tour he
brought with him one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She
was an Egyptian who had been brought to this country with a troupe of
dancers for one of the big exhibitions, and he met her and married her
when they were performing in the same theater. Of course, I had
absolutely no use for an Egyptian dancer with my show and I made the
marriage an excuse to get rid of Barton; but he begged me to keep him on
the plea that he was teaching her to do his act with the lions. She was
so beautiful that I realized that she would be a great drawing card if
she developed into a good trainer, so I consented and signed a contract
with him for another year. I regretted it when I saw the first
rehearsal, for it was painfully evident that she went into the cage only
because she was more afraid of her husband than she was of the lions,
and I didn't blame her; for while I might interfere to prevent
ill-treatment of the lions, which were my property, I had no authority
to protect her from his cruelty. They did most of the rehearsing at
night, and I trusted to the fear which Barton had instilled in the lions
to keep them from attacking her, for he always stood at the bars and
they would cower down at the sound of his voice. You know it is never
safe for two people to be in the cage with a group of animals at the
same time unless they stand back to back and keep in one place, for if
they are moving about an animal may run into one while endeavoring to
escape from the other, and even the blow from a lion's tail might knock
a man from his feet and then there would be trouble.
[Illustration: _"Jim," says Merritt, ... "there is a great advantage in
having a squaw for the top part of that there fish."_]
"Poor little Leotta used to go into the cage and try to keep the
tell-tale tremble out of her voice when she gave her commands, but she
could never learn to concentrate her whole attention on the animals and
give up looking for a sign of approval from Barton out of the corner of
her eye. I made it a point to see that there was always plenty of
assistance near in case of accidents, and gave Barton strict orders to
keep her out of the cage when the animals were under the influence of
'weather fear.' It was difficult for me to instruct or warn Leotta, for
she understood English very little; but I helped her all I could, and
gave her husband to understand that I would not allow any ill-treatment.
"In spite of all my precautions, I was always uneasy when she was in the
cage, and when I had to be away from the show she was constantly in my
mind. I had to go to the wharf one afternoon to superintend the
unloading of a new lot of animals which had been sent from our English
quarters, and owing to delays at the custom house it was late at night
before I could start back for the show. Perhaps I had absorbed some of
the weather wisdom of the animals from long association with them, but,
at any rate, I was uneasy at the delays and as I whizzed along in the
trolley I congratulated myself on my foresight in having warned Barton,
as the thunder heads were gathering and I knew the animals would have
the jumps and be unsafe to work with. But my heart sank as I drew near
the building and saw that it was brilliantly lighted up, for that could
only mean one thing at that time of night--Leotta must be rehearsing.
The trainers usually have but one small cluster of lights, but I had
ordered the electrician to turn on all the switches when she was in the
cage, as I thought she would be less frightened and the animals more
tractable in the full light.
"My guess was right: Barton, in disobedience of orders, had made her go
into the cage, and he had taken advantage of my absence to break our
iron-clad rule which forbids a trainer to drink. I saw the whole
situation as soon as I entered the building, and I would have given the
whole show to have the little woman safely on the right side of the
bars. The animals in the dens were raising a worse row than they did
to-night, and the lions in Leotta's group had forgotten their fear of
the trainer in their greater fear of the approaching storm. They were
ugly, and Barton, who was more than half-seas over, stood at the bars
shouting abuse at his wife and the lions and jeering at her evident
terror. I saw that the other trainers and keepers appreciated the
danger, for they were gathered around, holding iron bars, Roman candles
and pistols; but they had sense enough to know that any interference
which would draw his attention from the cage would precipitate the
trouble, and none of them could make Leotta appreciate the danger of her
position. I went up to him quietly and told him that I thought he had
better call the rehearsal off for the night, intending to square
accounts with him as soon as Leotta was safely out of the cage; but the
drink was in his brain and he turned on me and cursed me. Leotta gave a
scream of terror as the brute turned his back on the cage and, as if by
a preconcerted plan, every one of the six great beasts jumped for her.
"Barton knew that the game was up, and in his drunken rage he attacked
me and it kept my hands full to manage him; but the others rushed for
the cage, and while Bonavita and Stevenson beat off the lions with the
help of the keepers on the outside who were firing pistols and Roman
candles and using fire-extinguishers through the bars, Bobby Mack picked
up Leotta and carried her outside. Of course, that ended Leotta's career
in the show business and finished Barton's employment with me. The poor
little thing's beauty was gone, for a lion's claws make deep cuts, and
it was many a day before she was able to leave the hospital. You can see
that I have reason to be confident of the accuracy of the predictions of
my weather bureau, for if there had been no thunderstorm brewing I might
have developed a sensational lion act."
"Or if Leotta had understood English," commented the Press Agent, as he
beckoned to the waiter. "Of course, it is sometimes an advantage to have
performers who can't converse with the audience, but it is mighty
inconvenient if they can't understand the orders of the boss. I lost the
chance of making a lot of money once, because a squaw who was working
for us couldn't understand the white man's lingo. A guy named Merritt
and myself were disappointed about getting a concession for a snake show
at the Pan-American Exposition, and we found ourselves broke in Buffalo,
which is separated from the Bowery by about five hundred miles of very
tough walking when you haven't got the price of a railway ticket.
Merritt was mad clean through at being thrown down by the Exposition
managers, but he was an inventive genius and I knew that he would figure
out a way to raise the price of transportation.
[Illustration: _"A howl of terror from the platform."_]
"'Jim,' says he as we counted up our available assets and found that
they were pretty well along toward a minus quantity, 'it makes me dead
sore to be turned down this way without getting a run for our money, and
it's up to us to increase our capital and incidentally give the bunch
that done us dirt the double cross. Get your think tank working and see
what it will produce.' I couldn't see a way out, but when a squaw from
the Tonawanda Reservation, who was selling trailing arbutus, came up to
us and offered us a nosegay, Merritt gives a whoop and claps me on the
shoulder.
"'Jim,' says he, 'I've got it and we'll make our everlasting fortunes!'
He commenced to question the squaw, but all the English she knew was
'ten cent a bunch,' and he didn't make much headway until a big buck
Injin who had been watching her from across the street came over and
butted in. It appeared that he was her husband, and when Merritt stated
his proposition the buck accepted the terms without the formality of
consulting the squaw. When the Exposition opened we had a big tent on an
open lot across from the main entrance, with a life-sized picture of
'The Marvelous Mermaid' as big as a house. As I remarked, Merritt was an
inventive genius and he had worked up a scheme to deceive the confiding
public. He had provided a platform and carefully cut out a hole so that
the squaw could stand on the ground and the edges of the hole fitted
snugly about her waist. He made her lean forward and rest her chin in
her hands in the conventionally accepted mermaid position, and then he
fitted a fish tail which lay along the top of the platform, and it was
so skillfully joined to her that it looked as if it grew there. She was
a good-looking squaw and she certainly played her part and made an
interesting picture.
"Of course, he couldn't explain to her what he wanted her to do, but he
would tell the buck, who would carefully translate and impress the
instructions upon her memory with the aid of a bale stick. The thing
which he put most stress upon was that she was to remain absolutely
still, no matter what happened. I sold the tickets and put up the spiel
on the front, and Merritt lectured inside and we did a land-office
business. Lots of smart guys came around and tried to get gay with the
mermaid, but she couldn't understand their joshing and never cracked a
smile. The blame tent caught fire one night when it was filled with
people, and she had such a wholesome recollection of the bale stick
that she kept as still as a cigar-store Indian until we had cleared the
place and put the fire out.
"'Jim,' says Merritt as he looked her over admiringly after that
experience, 'there is a great advantage in having a squaw for the top
part of that there fish. She can't understand what the Willie boys say
to her and nothing feazes her. A white gal would have had hysterics and
given the whole snap away.' It gave Merritt a lot more confidence and we
felt pretty safe after that experience, and neglected to have the buck
repeat his bale-stick admonitions to her upon the necessity of
cultivating repose of manner. Everything was lovely and we were turning
hundreds of people away and making more money than the big show. One
afternoon we were playing to a record house and Merritt was doing
himself proud on his lecture.