Hide Article Text (OCR)
A Long Talk With the Old Show man About His Exploits. The London Circus Gets a Tribute of Praise from Sir Hubert. *Jerome ” the New York correspondent of the St. Paul Pioneer Press, writes the following en tertaining account of a day spent with P. T. Barnum at his home. I ran up to Bridgeport and spent Saturday with P. T. Barnum, whom everybody in America knows without an introduction. He is resting at Walde mere, which, in this republican country, must be known as simply a residence, but which would be called a palace in any country in Europe, Waldemere—which word means, I suppose, woods on-the-sea—is built on the edge of Seaside park, which Barnum’s energy secured for the city, and which has been raised from an impenetrable salt marsh to one of the finest pleasure grounds in the state. “I didn't mean to build another great house like this, said the owner; “after Iranistan burnt and Lindencroft was sold in 1867, I resolved that I would never rebuild such a mansion; so, when it became necessary to remove Mrs. Barnum here for her health, I put up a neat little cottage. When I took hold of the big menagerie I had to build on an office, and then an architect came and said it was out of proportion, and he built out in another direction. And then another one came and showed that it was still wopsided, and he had to make it all over, and here 'tis, big enough for ten families, and nobody to live in it but my little wife and me and our guests.” Mrs. Bar num I had never met before, I enjoyed the hos italities of the that Mrs. Barnum at Lindencroft t welve years ago, when a rty was given at which I remember meeting General Hawley, Sen ator Ferry, Theodore Tilton, Mark Twain, Joel Benton and other well-known people; but she died in 1873, deeply mourned by her husband, with whom she had lived for forty-four years. Her Name Was Charity, and it was she to whom her way of a husband al luded in court, after his bankruptcy, when asked how he lived. “I am supported by Charity,” said he, as she had a private fortune of $200,000 which he had given to her before he ever became en tangled in the meshes of the swindling Jerome Clock of The present Mrs. Barnum is rather petite in figure and perhaps thirty five old, quite pretty and very amiable and social. In conversation she is sparkling, well-informed, well read without being unpleasantly bookish, and some what given to that apt quotation which is the current coin of literature. Her pen, too, is fluent and picturesque, and she has published some bright sketches. “But I will not write un less I am paid for it,” she said to me, “not that I want the money, for I don’t, and it always goes to charity, but I have something of the spirit of the guild of the pen, and I need to feel that what I do has a commercial value. Besides, if people who do not need money write for nothing, it depreciates all literary work, and makes it hard for professionals who have to rely on their pens.” Not to intrude too much into domestic affairs, I may say that Barnum and his wife are very happily mated; that they seem proud of each other's contrasted gifts, and that Waldemere is known to be a model home. The eminent amusement caterer has a strong religious nature, and a moral sensibility that has made him a total abstinence champion during all his later manhood, and induced him to insist on strict cane and propriety in all his entertainments. Near Waldemere, in this same park, his three daughters live with their families in beautiful cottages, which he built them, fronting the Sound, “Blow Many Persons Have You Catered Tow Tasked the great showman. He smiled and said: “Twice as many as the whole population of the United States. To be exact,” he continued, reaching for a book over his head, “the total cprecainnate number up to 1877 was 82,464,000. Of course, these were not all different persons, for some attend ed several times. In the American Museum, in the twenty-four years before it was burned in 1865, I sold 386,660,000 tickets. I exhibited Tom Thumb for thirty-four years, and he saw more than 20,000,000 people. Jenny Lind, on the contrary, had only 600,000 at all her entertain ments. Then I have delivered 700 lectures, which have been attended by more than a million per sons. This is really the only pet of my numerous shows where I am in doubt whether the people got her money back.” He lay back in his chair and lied heartily. “That engagement of Jenny Lind was a great venture,” said I. “It was bold; it seems reckless even at this dis tance of time, and looked at through the atmos phere of success. I paid her the largest price ever paid in this country—$2000 a night for ninety-five nights, and I made $535,486. The Ave receipts of the concerts were more than $7400 apiece. We were now seated in Barnum's pleasant library, and as he threatened to have the horses brought around and show me the park and the town, I hastened to say, “Mr. Barnum, have you any objection to telling about the Fejee mor mair ——ME “Not a bit,” said he, “It is a good while ago, and there is no part of my life as showman that I hesitate to tell all about. It is nearly fifty years ago now that Moses Kimball came from Boston and brought with him in a coffin-like box what he declared was a genuine mermaid. He had got it in London, where it was being exhibited by a sea captain, who had paid $2000 for it in Calcutta, and who was ultimately arrested and thrown into jail for using the ship's money to act with The lower part was the tail of a shark, or some large fish, but the upper part was not of womans form, by any means. It was a hideous head and shoulders —apparently of some sort of ape. I called a naturalist. He shook his head and laughed. ‘It is not a mermaid,’ said he. ‘Then what is it?’ I asked. He examined it carefully. He could find no place where it was united. The head looked like a baboon’s, but some of the teeth were like a pig's, and some like a dog's, while some he declared to be human. But there was no evidence of den tistry whatever. There was no seam in the body; moreover, scales grew up among the hair on the bust, and hair grew among the scales down to the tail. There was no evidence of artifice. ‘Then it is a mermaid,’ I said. I bought it and put it in the safe of Moses Y. Beach of the Sun. Pretty soon a letter was written from Mobile to the New York Herald, giving a good account of the crops, poli tics, etc., and heading with the announcement that a man had landed there from the Sandwich islands, bringing a genuine mermaid. It had not been seen and would not be exhibited, for it was on its way to the London zoological gardens, for which it was caught in its native waters. This was copied all over the country and made a sensation. In another week a letter from Charles ton announced that the wonder had arrived there, on its way to New York, whence it would sail to London. A more detailed account of the wonderful creature was given. This Served to Swell the Curiosity. From Baltimore came still other letters, and then I sent my man to Philadelphia with the mermaid in a close box, nicely made and decorated. He sit up at the best hotel and cultivated only the andiord. To him, just as he was paying his will and leaving, he confided the immense secret that he was the Englishman who had caught the mermaid and was carrying it home. ‘My God!’ said the excited landiord, ‘is it pos sible that that wonderful creature is in this house?’ ‘Yes,’ said my agent, ‘but you mustn’t say a word about it; I am sorry it got out in the first place.’ ‘Now, see here,’ said the landlord, ‘you're a good fellow, and you must let me see it.’ e saw it, and his excitement increased. ‘You must let me show it to one or two reporters. It will help my house.’ Reluctantly, and as a mere favor to the landlord, the exhibition was per mitted. The Philadelphia papers had columns about it. The next day it was brought to New York and the same game gone through with at the Astor House. The pets were full of it, and the city was agog. Thousands called, but were not allowed to see it. In three pic tures of it made—wood cuts—and I took one to each of the three morning papers, the Herald, the Atlas and the Mercury, and told them I had pro cured the cat from the proprietor. Each one printed it next morning under pecan eons and with a long notice, supposing he had the only pic ture. They were the maddest men you ever saw. Ropes of the Atlas called me very hard names, and was mollified only when I showed how Ben nett had been fooled. This mermaid added to my notoriety very much, and money poured into the museum after that. I never was particularly proud of the way in which The Mermaid Campaign was conducted, but I don't know to this day who made it if it ever was made, and it was certainly a marvellous curiosity, whether natural or arti east“ “How are monareries made, Mr. Barnum?” “The great menagerie furnisher of the world is Carl Hageenbeck of Hamburg. He can provide a menagerie cheaper than you can collect it in any other way. I have generally found it cheaper to get even wy great South American serpents of him than to get them in Brazil.” “How does he obtain them’ “From his agents. He has a dozen active agents in Asia Africa, Australia and South America all the while. But even they don’t catch the animals. The young wild animals are caught by the natives in different localities. They catch the young ones and bring them up,and sell them when the agents come around,” : “They showmen seldom catch their own wild anime. “On, never, I have come about as near it as forest for you have an agent, Keeler, who rides up camels in and South Africa, and buys whatever I want that cannot be had cheaper of Haggenbeck.’ “How do the natives catch wild animals—tigers, for instance?” “They never catch tigers.” “What, never?” “Well, ha——not very frequently. Tigers, full grown tigers, are not to be caught. You could as easily catch a hurricane. Let us understand, to begin with, that all ferocious wild animals that are captured at all are captured when they are cubs, and quite little. Take a tiger, for instance. When the natives want a tiger, and must have one, they go out into the jungle heavily armed and encounter and kill a tigress, then Grab Up the Young in Their Arms and make off on fast horses. It is a little exciting, even this way, but not quite so exciting as it would be to catch an old tiger or tigress by the tail and get it into a corral. Not quite! “Then almost all lions, tigers, panier, etc., left the jungle when they were babies? “Just so. Of course full-grown elephants are captured often, and camels are as plenty as cows, and about as cheap, but the men who would cap ture a mature tiger or tigress, or a Brazilian boa forty feet long, would have to get up in the morn ing and be spry.” “Some animals are raised here, I suppose?” “O, yes. Camels can be raised here easily. And lions.” We now breed our own lions here, and this country raises more lions than it can use—more than we can consume, as the political economists would say. Lions breed easily. Tigers are very difficult to raise in captivity. The mothers de stroy their young—bite them to death, or jam them with their great jaws. So does the hippopo tamus. A young hippopotamus is generally smothered the first day. The period of gestation of an elephant is long, so the mother rarely keeps still long enough to breed.” “Is that baby elephant in the London circus genuine?” “Indeed it is, I wish it wasn't. T shoulda be tens of thousands of dollars better off. A full grown elephant is worth about $6000, but I offered the London circus company $100,000 for the mother elephant and baby, and they would have been worth twice that to me, “You speak very candidly of the ‘show over the way. “Why shouldn’t [? It is a good show. It Pushed Me Harder Last Summer than any other menagerie I ever encountered. It went right along behind us, giving us the cream of the business all through New England, and I'll be blessed if it didn't take as much money as we did, and right here in Bridgeport it took a few dollars more,” “ many menageries are there in this coun try? “A good many. You may be surprised to know that there are from thirty to forty on the road every summer.” “How many men does it take to run your circus?”* “About 400 are fed in our tent every day, and thirty or forty others go to the hotels; besides this we have an army ahead. My expenses are $3,500 a day. There never was another circus in this country except the London whose expenses were over $1,000 a day.” “How much are you worth now, Mr. Barnum, if Kayne is not putting the question in too circuitous a form? “Oh, I don't know exactly. If I don't live long enough to spend it I am worth enough to spoil all ST children and grandchildren.” laughed, when he continued: “I am not wholly joking. The men who have succeeded in this country are ee those who began with abso lutely nothing. Oney, as, an inheritance, is scarcely ever a blessing to children in this coun try.” “Sr. Barnum excused himself for a short time and left me to look about, I had been told on ap proaching Waldemere—which, by the way, was named by Bayard Taylor—that the proprietor was at home because the silken flag bearing his mono gram was floating from its principal tower, and t hen stepped to the door and looked over the lawn. It was Clean, Bread and Sweeping, and fountains of bronze and marble glanced here and there, and the house was framed in beds of flowers, while floral belts also embroidered the tempting drives and paths that lost themselves among the trees. Much of this outside decoration is the work of Mrs. Barnum, whose taste for botanical studies is decided. The house itself, a pleasant combination of French and Italian architecture, is very spacious and luxurious, without being in any way retentious or “stunning.”’ It presents a very anesome front of 160 feet to Long Island, and most of the rooms command a fine coup a’all of the waves. In this house is a room where Horace Greeley used to stay for days and rest, and it is called the “Greeley room.’’ Mr. Barnum was seventy on Monday—a stout, straight, sturdy man as one often meets. He has a broad head, full in the overcoming qualities, perceptives that jut over his gray eyes like sloping eaves, iron-gray hair that curls tightly around the base of a bald crown, and every movement is one of decision and self reliance. He still has “go’’ in him, and I believe if every dollar of his fortune should be swept away tomorrow he possesses energy enough to go to work and accumulate another. Indeed, has he not this very spring contracted with Vander Wilt and others to build the greatest arouse ment building in the world on the site of Gil more’s garden—a mammoth structure 200x 425 feet, five stories high, and to cost about $5,000,000. He tells me that this will certainly be profitable, but he doesn’t care whether he even makes another dollar in the world; he is building this as a monument. In a few minutes Mr. Bar num reappeared and invited me to arrive. He has put up a hundred buildings himself on streets that he has opened. In making the grand rounds we drove by the residence of J. D. Johnson, just west of where Iranistan used to be. Here Bar num, who is an unequalled wit and a first-rate story-teller, said to me: “Johnson played A Practical Joke on me once.” “What was it?” I asked. ‘Why,” he explained; “I had a big park opposite John son’s house here, containing Rocky Mountain deer, elk, reindeer, etc. Strangers would natural ly suppose it belonged to Johnson's estate, and this mistake was emphasized by his jocular son-in law, 8. H. Wales of the Scientifc American, who put up at the entrance aboard reading, ‘All persons are forbidden to trespass or disturb the deer. J. D. Johnson,’ It was a good joke, and let it stand. In about a week Johnson had a large party from New York visiting him, and after supper he took them out to enjoy the joke he had Paves on Barnum. Reaching the sign he wheeled them around and saw to his dismay that Thad added the words, ‘Gamekeeper to P. T. Bar num.’ He was called ‘Barnum's gamekeeper’ for some time by his friends. But a couple of months after that I gave a swell dinner at Iranistan to the directors of the bank, and I sent west for praine chickens another game. This came, and Johnson happened to find at the depot the great box addressed to me and marked ‘game.’ He told the express agent that he was Harnun's gamekeeper, and would take the box. It was de livered to his house, and when it arrived Johnson sent over a note to me saying that I had appointed him my gamekeeper, and that he had entered upon the duties of his office; that a box of game had come, and he should ‘keep’ it till I sent him an order for a new hat. I was a little chagrined, and didn't exactly know what to do, but I actually heard the next day that the rascal was going to give a game supper himself, and I sent over the hat. Go any!” The animal did not need urging, for we were flying like the wind, but the memory of that western poultry seemed to linger on the old gen tleman’s mind. “What is the cheekiest thing you ever did, Mr. Barnum? I asked. “Joyce Heth? “T never was ‘cheeky’ in the true sense of that word,” said he seriously. “No, Joyce Heth was not even audacious. She was worth all the money ever paid to see her. Why, her finger nails were four inches long and her toe nails two inches thick! No, the boldest thing, in a personal way, never did was to get the king of the Sand wich Islands to ride around the ring in my circus so that the people could see him. But he was human, and I have no doubt he enjoyed it. It was a nice chariot and a nice place to ride,”’
Newspaper Details
Boston Weekly Globe
Boston, Massachusetts, US
Wed, Jul 28, 1880
Page 7
Full Page
Clipped by
Anonymous
USA 27 Jan 2026
Other Publications Near Boston, Massachusetts
Massachusetts Centinel
Boston Globe
Boston Daily Globe
UMB News
Mass Media
