When we went to New Orleans to close up and pay off a show that had
been "flooded out" in one of my earliest ventures, it was our intention
to take the New Orleans company to New York, but I found it
impracticable. I thereupon called all the members to my rooms at the
hotel and explained to them the situation. I proposed to pay them all
off and let them remain idle until the opening in the following spring.
To this all agreed save two, our principal riders, a woman and a man.
These positively refused to make any compromise. The woman snapped her
fingers in my face and said: "No, I was engaged for a year and you will
have to pay me my salary just the same. You are able to do it, and do
it you shall." The man took precisely the same stand, and as they were
not only our star riders, but also the best equestrians in America, I
was at a loss to know what to do.
I took a little time for deliberation, and learned that both
malcontents were very much in love with each other. This immediately
helped me to determine what course to pursue. I first sent for the
woman and told her to get ready at once to go to my farm in Wisconsin,
where I intended to build a ring around a tree, to furnish her with a
ringmaster, and to allow her to earn her salary by giving two
performances daily to the birds and squirrels. She claimed that her
contract did not call for such performances, but a reference to the
contract proved that she was to ride in any part of America I might
designate. Then I sent for the man and told him that he and his horses
must take the next steamer for New York City. He refused to do this,
but I quickly proved to him that his contract with us, though calling
for transportation for himself and horses, did not specify of what
nature that transportation should be; I had a perfect right to send him
by sailing vessel if I chose. His refusal to go of course canceled his
contract, and I accordingly left him. The woman expressed her
willingness to go to Wisconsin, but I knew she could not leave her
sweetheart--and I was right. In less than half an hour they proposed a
compromise, but I refused. Finally I agreed to take the woman to New
York and pay her half salary until the season opened.
Among the many men employed with the Barnum show was one large,
handsome fellow who was superintendent of the equestrian department. As
showmen are fond of having nicknames, some one called this man
"Barnum." The poor fellow was wholly illiterate and tolerably fond of
whisky, consequently the name was decidedly inappropriate, but, as a
nickname will, it stuck to him hard and fast. One day, while Mr. Barnum
was visiting the show, his namesake was lying asleep outside one of the
horse tents on a pile of hay, and one of the hands, desiring to waken
him, shouted at the top of his voice: "Barnum! Barnum! Wake up!" Mr.
Barnum had been a witness to this scene and he came to me in a
tremendous rage, saying: "Have you no respect for me at all?"
"What do you mean, Mr. Barnum?"
"What do I mean?" he replied. "Why, I wish to know your intent in
calling that drunken, illiterate brute by my name."
Of course, after an explanation, Mr. Barnum's rage cooled, but I think
he was never so much annoyed in his life. It well illustrates how
thoroughly he hated the vice of drunkenness. After that episode strict
injunctions were given to refrain from calling the man "Barnum."
On one occasion when we had run to Joplin, Mo., the train was divided
into three sections, the first having been switched on a siding to wait
for the other two. I was sitting at the hotel, eating breakfast, when
the superintendent of the road came in and announced, "I am afraid you
will not show to-day."
"Why not?" I replied.
"Well," said he, "the section of your train that has already pulled out
has run wild down a steep grade over an immense trestle with nothing
but zigzags and reverse curves. We have to run over them with our
passenger trains at a very slow speed, and, as your cars are top-heavy,
I can see nothing but complete destruction for them."
"Well," said I, "can't you send an engine after the runaway section?"
He promised to do this and, as there was nothing more I could do, I
finished my breakfast at leisure.