The sectional feeling between the North and South was also a constant
menace to the showmen when traveling in the slave States, for the
circus men were universally regarded as "Yankees." The exciting
episodes growing out of this sentiment were numbered by the score, but
the one which gave me the greatest fright was encountered in Missouri
in an initial chapter of my experience.
As the caravan pulled into Booneville, early one morning, after a
wearing night of marching, we found ourselves suddenly surrounded, not
by the usual welcoming party of children of all colors and sizes, but
by a band of lank Missourians, armed to the teeth. By this time I had
developed a very respectable amount of courage for a lad; but the sight
of this posse made me decidedly uncomfortable, and I'm afraid my whole
body shook as badly as the voice of Mr. Butler, the manager, when he
inquired the cause of our hostile reception.
"You've got a stolen nigger in your outfit, and you're our
prisoners--that's what's the matter!" was the rough answer of the
leader of the posse.
The gravity of our situation was at once grasped by every man who heard
this announcement, for the stealing of a slave was then a far greater
crime in the eyes of the community than unprovoked murder would now be.
A desperate and bloody battle in which every follower of the show must
look out for his own life as best he could seemed inevitable. We all
kept our eyes on the manager, who was cool and of impressive manners.
In those moments of breathless waiting for the fight to begin, I wished
myself with the vehemence of despair safely back in the quiet little
Hoosier office.
Then Mr. Butler made a plucky appeal to all reasonable men who might be
in the posse. Was it not fair, he argued, that the man who had brought
this accusation should come forward and make himself and his standing
known? Was he a planter, the owner of slaves and a substantial citizen
of the great commonwealth of Missouri? This kind of ready eloquence
took with the crowd, and it was soon found that the man who had brought
the report was unknown to the people of Booneville. He was unable to
give a satisfactory account of himself or to prove that he ever owned a
slave.
Our trouble seemed to be rapidly clearing away when one of the natives,
who had been quietly investigating the caravan, brought the stirring
news that he had discovered the stolen negro. Then all was excitement
again, and the strain was even more intense than before, for, hidden
away in one of the wagons was a black man! This mysterious evidence of
guilt dumbfounded every attache of the show save the manager, who
continued to maintain his splendid nerve in the presence of a half a
hundred rifles. Every instant I expected the shooting to begin.
Once more, however, Mr. Butler caught the attention of the leader and
fired at the man claiming the negro a question which made the fellow
turn pale. On his answer depended the issues of peace or conflict. To
the surprise of the Missourians, our accuser broke down and confessed
that the affair was a scheme laid by himself and the negro to blackmail
from the circus manager a large sum of money. They planned that the
negro should make his presence known to some citizen while the white
man should circulate the rumor that his slave had been stolen by the
showman. Then the white man was to go to Mr. Butler and threaten him
with the wrath of the people unless a large sum was paid him to quiet
the matter and make his peaceable departure with the slave. But the
would-be blackmailer had started a larger fire than he had counted on
and had become frightened at his own work. The moment his confession
was made the mob turned upon him as fiercely as it had first started
for us. Then our manager once more stepped forward and urged the cooler
members of the posse to hasten the white man and negro inside the
protecting walls of the jail. This they did in a hurry--and just in the
nick of time, too; for the delay of a moment would have resulted in a
lynching. This episode won us the admiration and respect of the rough
men who had met us with loaded rifles, and we were feasted on
yellow-leg chickens, hickory-cured ham, wild honey and all the
delicacies that the southern planters "set out" for their guests.