ADVERTISING FOR A PARTNER--"QUAKER OATS"--DIAMOND THE DANCER--A
DISHONEST MANAGER--RETURN TO NEW YORK--FROM HAND TO MOUTH--THE
AMERICAN MUSEUM.
Looking around now for some permanent business, Barnum at last
resorted to the expedient of advertising for a partner, stating
that he had $2,500 to invest, and was willing to add his entire
personal attention to the business. He was immediately
overwhelmed with answers, the most of them coming from sharpers.
One was a counterfeiter who wanted $2,500 to invest in paper,
ink, and dies.
One applicant was a sedate individual dressed in sober drab; he
proposed to buy a horse and wagon and sell oats in bags, trusting
that no one would be particular in measuring after a Quaker.
"Do you mean to cheat in measuring your oats?" asked Barnum.
"Well," said the Quaker, with a significant leer, "I shall
probably make them hold out."
Finally Barnum decided to go into business with a good-looking,
plausible German, named Proler, who was a manufacturer of
paste-blacking, cologne, and bear's grease. They opened a store
at No. 101 1/2 Bowery, where Proler manufactured the goods, and
Barnum kept accounts and attended to sales in the store. The
business prospered, or appeared to, until the capital was
exhausted, and early in 1840 Barnum sold out his interest to
Proler, taking the German's note for $2,600, which was all he
ever got, Proler shortly afterward running away to Rotterdam.
Barnum had formed the acquaintance of a very clever young dancer
named John Diamond, and soon after leaving the paste-blacking
enterprise, he gathered together a company of singers, etc.,
which, with the dancer, Diamond, he placed in the hands of an
agent, not caring to have his name appear in the transaction. He
hired the Vauxhall Garden Saloon in New York and gave a variety
of performances. This, however, proved unprofitable, and was
abandoned after a few months.
Much as Barnum dreaded resuming the life of an itinerant showman,
there seemed nothing else to be done, so January 2d, 1841, found
him in New Orleans, with a company consisting of C. D. Jenkins,
an excellent Yankee character artist; Diamond, the dancer; a
violinist, and one or two others. His brother-in-law, John
Hallett, acted as advance agent. The venture was fairly
successful, though after the first two weeks in New Orleans, the
manager and proprietor of the show was obliged to pledge his
watch as security for the board-bill. A dancing match between
Diamond and a negro from Kentucky put nearly $500 into Barnum's
pocket, and they continued to prosper until Diamond, after
extorting as much money as possible from his manager, finally ran
away. The other members of the troop caused considerable trouble
later. Jenkins, the Yankee character man, went to St. Louis, and
having enticed Francis Lynch, an orphan protege of Barnum's into
the scheme, proceeded to the Museum, where he exhibited Lynch as
the celebrated dancer, John Diamond. Barnum poured out his wrath
at this swindler in a letter, for which Jenkins threatened suit,
and actually did instigate R. W. Lindsay to bring an action
against Barnum for a pipe of brandy, alleged to have been
included in his contract. Being among strangers, Barnum had some
difficulty in procuring the $500 bond required, and was committed
to jail until late in the afternoon. As soon as he was released,
he had Jenkins arrested for fraud, and then went on his way
rejoicing.
After an absence of eight months Barnum found himself back in New
York, resolved never again to be a traveling showman. Contracting
with the publisher, Robert Sears, for five hundred copies of
"Sear's Pictorial Illustrations of the Bible," and accepting the
United States agency for the book, he opened an office at the
corner of Beekman and Nassau Streets. He advertised widely, had
numerous agents, and sold thousands of books, but for all that,
lost money.
While engaged in this business the Vauxhall Saloon was re-opened,
under the management of John Hallett, Mrs. Barnum's brother. At
the end of the season they had cleared about $200. This sum was
soon exhausted, and for the rest of the winter Barnum managed to
eke out a living by writing for the Sunday papers, and getting up
unique advertisements for the Bowery Amphitheatre.
His ambition received a stimulus at last from a friend in
Danbury, who held a mortgage on a piece of property owned by Mr.
Barnum. Mr. Whittlesey wrote that as he was convinced of Mr.
Barnum's inability to lay up money, he thought he might as well
demand the five hundred dollars then as at any time. Barnum's
flagging energies were aroused, and he began in earnest to look
for some permanent investment.
In connection with the Bowery Amphitheatre, the information came
to him that the collection of curiosities comprising Scudder's
American Museum, at the corner of Broadway and Ann Streets, was
for sale. The original proprietor had spent $50,000 on it, and at
his death had left a large fortune as the result of the
speculation. It was now losing money and the heirs offered it for
sale, at the low price of $15,000. Realizing that with tact,
energy, and liberality, the business might be made as profitable
as ever, Barnum resolved to buy it.
"You buy the American Museum!" exclaimed a friend to whom he
confided the scheme. "What will you buy it with?"
"With brass," answered Barnum, "for silver and gold have I none."
And buy it with brass he did, as the story of the transaction
testifies.
The Museum building belonged to Mr. Francis W. Olmsted, a retired
merchant, to whom he wrote, stating his desire to buy the
collection, and that although he had no means, if it could be
purchased upon reasonable credit, he was confident that his tact
and experience, added to a determined devotion to business, would
enable him to make the payments when due. Barnum therefore asked
him to purchase the collection in his own name; to give a writing
securing it to Barnum, provided he made the payments punctually,
including the rent of his building; to allow Barnum twelve
dollars and a half a week on which to support his family; and if
at any time he failed to meet the installment due, he would
vacate the premises, and forfeit all that might have been paid to
that date. "In fact, Mr. Olmsted." Barnum continued, earnestly,
"you may bind me in any way, and as tightly as you please--only
give me a chance to dig out, or scratch out, and I will do so or
forfeit all the labor and trouble I may have incurred."
In reply to this letter, which Barnum took to his house himself,
Mr. Olmsted named an hour when he could call on him. Barnum was
there at the exact moment, and Olmsted was pleased with his
punctuality. He inquired closely as to Barnum's habits and
antecedents, and the latter frankly narrated his experiences as a
caterer for the public, mentioning his amusement ventures in
Vauxhall Garden, the circus, and in the exhibitions he had
managed at the South and West.
"Who are your references?" Olmsted inquired.
"Any man in my line," Barnum replied, "from Edmund Simpson,
manager of the Park Theatre, or William Niblo, to Messrs. Welch,
June, Titus, Turner, Angevine, or other circus or menagerie
proprietors; also Moses Y. Beach, of the New York Sun."
"Can you get any of them to call on me?"
Barnum told him that he could, and the next day Mr. Niblo rode
down and had an interview with Mr. Olmsted, while Mr. Beach and
several other gentlemen also called. The following morning Barnum
waited upon him for his decision.
"I don't like your references, Mr. Barnum," said Mr. Olmsted,
abruptly, as soon as he entered the room.
Barnum was confused, and said, "he regretted to hear it."
"They all speak too well of you," Olmsted added, laughing; "in
fact, they all talk as if they were partners of yours, and
intended to share the profits."
"Nothing could have pleased me better," says Barnum. "He then
asked me what security I could offer in case he concluded to make
the purchase for me, and it was finally agreed that, if he should
do so, he should retain the property till it was entirely paid
for, and should also appoint a ticket-taker and accountant (at my
expense), who should render him a weekly statement. I was further
to take an apartment hitherto used as a billiard-room in his
adjoining building, allowing therefor $500 a year, making a total
rental of $3,000 per annum, on a lease of ten years. He then told
me to see the administrator and heirs of the estate, to get their
best terms, and to meet him on his return to town a week from
that time.
"I at once saw Mr. John Heath, the administrator, and his price
was $15,000. I offered $10,000, payable in seven annual
installments, with good security. After several interviews, it
was finally agreed that I should have it for $12,000, payable as
above --possession to be given on the 15th of November. Mr.
Olmsted assented to this, and a morning was appointed to draw and
sign the writings. Mr. Heath appeared, but said he must decline
proceeding any further in my case, as he had sold the collection
to the directors of Peale's Museum (an incorporated institution)
for $15,000, and had received $1,000 in advance.
"I was shocked, and appealed to Mr. Heath's honor. He said that
he had signed no writing with me; was in no way legally bound,
and that it was his duty to do the best he could for the heirs.
Mr. Olmsted was sorry but could not help me; the new tenants
would not require him to incur any risk, and my matter was at an
end.
"Of course I immediately informed myself as to the character of
Peale's Museum Company. It proved to be a band of speculators who
had bought Peale's collection for a few thousand dollars,
expecting to unite the American Museum with it, issue and sell
stock to the amount of $50,000, pocket $30,000 profits, and
permit the stockholders to look out for themselves.
"I went immediately to several of the editors, including Major M.
M. Noah, M. Y. Beach, my good friends West, Herrick, and Ropes,
of the Atlas, and others, and stated my grievances. 'Now,' said
I, 'if you will grant me the use of your columns, I'll blow that
speculation sky-high.' They all consented, and I wrote a large
number of squibs, cautioning the public against buying the Museum
stock, ridiculing the idea of a board of broken-down bank
directors engaging in the exhibition of stuffed monkeys and
gander-skins; appealing to the case of the Zoological Institute,
which had failed by adopting such a plan as the one now proposed;
and finally, I told the public that such a speculation would be
infinitely more ridiculous than Dickens's 'Grand United
Metropolitan Hot Muffin and Crumpit-baking and Punctual Delivery
Company.'
"The stock was 'as dead as a herring!' I then went to Mr. Heath
and asked him when the directors were to pay the other $14,000.'
On the 26th day of December, or forfeit the $1,000 already paid,'
was the reply. I assured him that they would never pay it, that
they could not raise it, and that he would ultimately find
himself with the Museum collection on his hands, and if once I
started off with an exhibition for the South, I could not touch
the Museum at ANY price. 'Now,' said I, 'if you will agree with
me confidentially, that in case these gentlemen do not pay you on
the 26th of December I may have it on the 27th for $12,000, I
will run the risk, and wait in this city until that date.' He
readily agreed to the proposition, but said he was sure they
would not forfeit their $1,000.
" 'Very well,' said I; 'all I ask of you is, that this
arrangement shall not be mentioned.' He assented. 'On the 27th
day of December, at ten o'clock A. M., I wish you to meet me in
Mr. Olmsted's apartments, prepared to sign the writings, provided
this incorporated company do not pay you $14,000 on the 26th. He
agreed to this, and by my request put it in writing.
"From that moment I felt that the Museum was mine. I saw Mr.
Olmsted, and told him so. He promised secrecy, and agreed to sign
the document if the other parties did not meet their engagement.
This was about November 15th, and I continued my shower of
newspaper squibs at the new company, which could not sell a
dollar's worth of its stock. Meanwhile, if any one spoke to me
about the Museum, I simply replied that I had lost it."
This newspaper war against the Peales was kept up unceasingly
until one morning in December, "I received a letter from the
secretary of that company (now calling itself the 'New York
Museum Company'), requesting me to meet the directors at the
Museum on the following Monday morning. I went, and found the
directors in session. The venerable president of the board, who
was also the ex-president of a broken bank, blandly proposed to
hire me to manage the united museums, and though I saw that he
merely meant to buy my silence, I professed to entertain the
proposition, and in reply to an inquiry as to what salary I
should expect, I specified the sum of $3,000 a year. This was at
once acceded to, the salary to begin January 1st, 1842, and after
complimenting me on my ability, the president remarked: 'Of
course, Mr. Barnum, we shall have no more of your squibs through
the newspapers.' To which I replied that I should 'ever try to
serve the interests of my employers,' and I took my leave.
"It was as clear to me as noonday that, after buying my silence
so as to appreciate their stock, these directors meant to sell
out to whom they could, leaving me to look to future stockholders
for my salary. They thought, no doubt, that they had nicely
entrapped me, but I knew I had caught them.
"For, supposing me to be out of the way, and having no other
rival purchaser, these directors postponed the advertisement of
their stock to give people time to forget the attacks I had made
on it, and they also took their own time for paying the money
promised to Mr Heath, December 26th--indeed, they did not even
call on him at the appointed time. But on the following morning,
as agreed, I was promptly and hopefully at Mr. Olmsted's
apartments with my legal adviser, at half-past nine o'clock; Mr.
Heath came with his lawyer at ten, and before two o'clock that
day I was in formal possession of the American Museum. My first
managerial act was to write and dispatch the following
complimentary note:
" 'AMERICAN MUSEUM, NEW YORK, Dec. 27th, 1841.
" 'To the President and Directors of the New York Museum:
" 'GENTLEMEN: It gives me great pleasure to inform you that you
are placed upon the Free List of this establishment until furthur
notice.
" 'P. T. BARNUM, Proprietor.'
"It is unnecessary to say that the 'President of the New York
Museum' was astounded, and when he called upon Mr. Heath, and
learned that I had bought and was really in possession of the
American Museum, he was indignant. He talked of prosecution, and
demanded the $1,000 paid on his agreement, but he did not
prosecute, and he justly forfeited his deposit money."