CIRCUS DAYS OF LONG AGO.

Timaru Herald, Volume CXXIII, 26 March 1926, Page 9

CIRCUS DAYS OF LONG AGO.

UPS AND DOWNS OF THE SAWDUST RING. Sparkling ..imiuics of his 'experiences during seventy years of circus life are told in this article, specially written for the London •■omiday Chronicle,” by Whimsical Walker, drollest of Clowns. ~ •• I was almost. bom into the circus, and 1 think 1 was five when f got my first ■engagement at Knott Mill Fair, olf(Deansgate, Manchester. My salary was food,' lodging, and twopence a .week! Tho big circus I lead my gay troupe of clowns into now —I only wish I could tumble m with them, but I’m too old aiid fat—is nothing like the penny gaffs I used to play in or the olu-lime travelling circuses that I romped around in a score of roles as a young and oven middle-aged mail. But the circus life of yore had its attractions, the travelling from town to town, and the buzz, tile din, tho admiration and wonder of the. gaping rustic's; the jovial meetings m old chums, the comparison of experiences were delights which don’t exist ill these days. A “LIVING HE YD.” One of my earliest recollections was of ‘playing tlie part at Ashton Fair ot “a living head without a body.” All 1./had to do was to put on a wig and old iwluskers, and go underneatu the stage about a dozen times a day, and at a given signal put my head tnrougii a smail trapdoor, my body, of course, being concealed. Thu exhibitor would then say: “Open your eyes—can you seel” “Yes,” was my reply. “Turn your eyes to the. right—now to the leit. Smoke a cigarette,” etc. •One day some mislfehicvous uelirin stuck a pin into my body. 1 dived down to punch the yqting rascal. it was the critical moment of the show, and, when the trap opened, there was ho head! The ’ audience-thought they had been swindled, and went for the proprietor, who went for me. That was the end of ,my “living head” engagement. i haven’t always been a clown. i have, been an acrobat and an animal tamer. My famous performing cats arc. still remembered in Ireland. They never performed, because, after I. hail schooled them for fourteen weeks, and got them all perched on their- little pedestals in the ring ready to begin, some fool in the gallery harked like a dbg, audi they all ran like hares, and I never saw them again. I dare say there are still some cockfighting gentry! alive in Madrid who remember mu and my famous game cock, the wonderful British bird that laid out Don Pedro’s champion Spanish re<l. bird in fair fight—he’d have killed the Spaniard’s bird il they hadn’t had wool-stuffed glove stall fitted over their spuin. ’ NOVEL COCK FIGHT. T lutrl Wncenii tint

. I , had Hessan, the costume maker, make me a great cock uress in the black and rod colours of tiie Indian species. Then 1 studied the cry of the cock bird. It sounds something this: “Krrrrm-rr:” And it means tiiat the bird is .summoning his wives. Arrayed in my cock costume, 1 wentinto the arena and had the bird brought in. As .soon as I burst into the cock bird cry “Krrrrrrrrr!’ lie put up Ins head fiercely and took mo ior a hated rival after his wives. He came at me like Jack Dcmpscv went for poor Firpo. ]. hopped away, as if afraid, and, much encouraged, he came after me, pecking fiercely. He nindc a great hit with the circus crowds. l p used to keep his spirits at fighting pitch on port wine, oats, and raw meat, and he never discovered that the hated rival he fought nightly in the ring, and put to flight, was me. I never >-aw such a 'bird for viciousncss, aiid I was very sorry when he died at last of croup in Dublin. j

I’ve trained a Jot of animals in my time—geeso, pigs, rings. The cleverest •animal •! ever handled was a poodle. Once he’d been taught a trick, he never forgot. One day I found him gnawing a pair of now slippers. I was so annoyed that |. grabbed him, knocked his head agaiiist the wall, and threw him out of 'the window—it was a ground floor room.

Next day ho came in, and as soon as he saw my slippers ho dashed up to the wall, knocked liis head against it, and leaped out the window. He thought ho had acquired a new trick, and when ho ran in again, pleased as Bunch, I was .so overcome that 1 gave him my breakfast sausage, though I’d only 1 ad ono bite out of it. •• j •

THE EXECUTIONER LAUGHS. 1 lining back to my circus days, I had a curious experience at Leeds once. It was just after Charles Peace had been condemned, and Armloy Gaol, where ho was, being just outside I lie city,- -there was much "talk about 'the miudere.r and his career, 1 was in Adams’ circus at the time, and one night went into an hotel with my chief. A gentleman came up to Mr 'Adams, havipg apparently recognised ' him ,as riding ail Arab at the previous night’s show, and asked : ‘‘Who was that funny cuss who had some.’ .fits and performed on tho high stilts” ''

Air Adams rejoined that I. was the cuss. “I'm. very pleased,” said the stranger, “you made me laugh. And he handed me his card, which I thrust in mv pnekot-and shook hands. That night I. stuck it with others on the mantelpiece in my room and went to bed. In the morning .1 looked •at the ear and shuddered, for my eyes, fell on tho inscription, “Manvood, oxedutioner.” ’That .very /morning Manvood executed Peace. I could hot cat my breakfast. HENGLER ANNOYED. T. don’t suppose there’s been an accident in the sawdust ring for many a long year now. Women and the youngsters have to bo considered, and anything that isn’t-quite safe —it can look as breathless as you like —isn’t encouraged by latter-day circus proprietors.

I recite an incident which showed how the wind was blowing. Many years ago I was clowning in Charles llengler’s Circus. 1 put on a big black nose and made a huge success. But afier the show Herigler came behind and took all the wind out of my sails by saying ferociously ;• “You know, sir vour nose looks dirty—and it fright >ns the children. Don’t put it on again, sir.” Always after that I painted mv nose red. In ’Bl Barnum and Bailey’s gaye mo

an engagement in New York. Some time later Bailey came and to.’cl me to go home again and buy tho famous nabv eiephant Jumbo from the London Zoo.

He cost £2,000 and the Baroness Burdelt-Voutts and her friends came on board the .steamer to hid him goodbye, and tlie Baroness •'gave him his last English bun. He was worth .('2OO a day to the great circus. ROUGH HOUSES Those were rough days for the tenting circus in the States. 'The circus had to bo a regular lighting unit. A standing joke among the b’lioys of tho Western towns was to cut the guy lopes anil let the great marquee fail on tho crowd. Others tried to get in free by cutting a. hole in the canvas and crawling through, if a caiivasinan collared them they would bring up the gang and set on him.

Then tho fight started. “Hey, Rube,” was the recognised S.O.S. call of tho circus, and when it went up everyone would leave his job—lion, king, acrobat, bearded lady, dwarl —and grab a stake and rush into the Iray. Men were sometimes killed in these “rough houses.” George Conklin, the celebrated trainer of wild beasts, had an old elephant called Queen Anne which lie trained specially to give aid when the' crowds became unruly.

Queen Anne would wade through tho mob slowly swinging a twelve-foot tent pole in her trunk. If tilings got hotConklin would say “Michiol,” which was the signal for Queen Anne to get really rough. She’d swing her pole then nineteen to the dozen, and lay out the toughs in heaps. FUSSYEOOT RICE. Drink, alas, was the downfall of many of the old-timers. I remember a famous clown, Dan Rico. Ho helped out his act with a wonderful trained pig, and was such a draw that for nine years iie drew from O’Brien's Circus £250 a week, and was worth every penny of it

But'ho spent it all, and in the end had to borrow his train fare home. When lie was down and out, and no circus would have him, he used to give temperance lectures. On the table he would have a full carafe and glass, and every now and then he’d stop and pour himself out a drink, 'saying how fine water was. As a matter of fact, his “water” was neat gin. I had many merry moment with Dan Lcno. lie laughed easily, but J never saw him so much as ono day when 1 recounted a personal misha p.

I knew an undertaker near Drury Lane, and ono day ho invited me into his shop and produced a bottle of whisky. 1 sat down on something covered with a black cloth, anil we chatted away about the theatre and theatre personalities. Presently 1 asked if lie knew what had become 1 of a, certain actor whom we both knew.

“Oh, yes,” .said mv friend calmly “You’re a-sitting on him now.”