USA > Rhode Island > The "Old Stone Bank" history of Rhode Island, Vol. III > Part 37
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In April, 1836, P. T. Barnum, who had already gained some promise as a show- man, made arrangements with Aron Turner, a circus proprietor, father of two celebrated riders, to engage one Signor Vivalla as a featured performer for the following summer season. Barnum had previously discovered Vivalla in an Al- bany museum where, as Signor Antonio, he presented such remarkable feats as walking on stilts, whirling and spinning crockery, and balancing guns with bayo- nets resting on his nose. When Barnum took over the Signor's services at $12.00 a week, plus board and traveling expenses, the showman demanded two things, first, that the plate whirling, gun juggling An- tonio should submit to a thorough wash-
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ing, and second, that he should agree to a change in his name. He agreed to both, hence the more romantic and foreign- sounding "Vivalla."
Barnum made a good trade in assigning Signor Vivalla to the Turner show, and he also succeeded in finding a place for him- self in the troupe as ticket-seller, secretary and treasurer. This turned out to be for- tunate for Barnum, since Vivalla's road tour, early that same year, proved to be a losing venture. On Tuesday, April 26, 1836, the circus with all its paraphernalia of wagons, horses, carriages, tents, ponies, with about thirty-five men and boys, started over the road from Danbury, Connecticut, to give the first performance on the following Thursday in West Springfield, Massachusetts. Barnum tells the story that on the first day, instead of halting on the road to dine, Mr. Turner stopped at a country farmhouse, bought three loaves of rye bread and a pound of butter; then, borrowing a knife from the farmer's wife, he proceeded to slice off pieces of bread. Spreading the slices lightly with butter, he handed one to each man. The bread and butter were soon consumed; Turner paid the woman fifty cents, ordered the men to water the horses, and the journey was resumed. Vivalla thought this was pretty scanty fare and so did the rest, but a little grum- bling apparently failed to bother Mr. Turner. It is interesting to note that a band from Providence was expected to join the show at West Springfield, but it failed to arrive for the opening perform- ance so ticket-seller, secretary and treas- urer Barnum was requested to make a brief speech apologizing for the absence of the Rhode Island musicians. At first the audiences were small, but soon they grew larger and, as the season advanced, the riding Turners, Joe Pentland the clown, the astounding Signor Vivalla, and others, made a handsome profit for Mr. Turner and his new associate Phineas T. Barnum. The circus performed all over New England, very likely in several Rhode Island communities, and then moved on to New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Dis- trict of Columbia, Virginia and North Carolina. Barnum's diary includes many
notes of exciting experiences on this, his first road tour with a traveling circus, but the anecdote of most interest to Rhode Islanders is the one that the greatest showman of all times never forgot.
The Turner show was booked to play in Annapolis, Maryland, and the caravan arrived there late on a Saturday evening. Business had been good for many weeks and Barnum felt quite prosperous, so he did a little shopping that evening, pur- chasing, among other luxuries, a fine suit of black clothes. On the following morn- ing, Sunday, feeling pretty proud of his purchase, he put on the fine new sable suit and jauntily sauntered out for a stroll, passing through the barroom as he left the hotel. About twenty men were gathered around the bar that sunny Sun- day morning, among whom was Mr. Tur- ner, who had a reputation for being an inveterate practical joker. Without dis- closing his own identity, Turner pointed to the strutting Barnum and quietly whispered to the crowd gathered around him, "I think it's very singular you per- mit that rascal to march your streets in open day. It would not be allowed in Rhode Island, and I suppose that is the reason the black-coated scoundrel has come down this way."
"Why, who is he?" ejaculated half a dozen at once.
"Don't you know? Why, that is the Reverend E. K. Avery, the murderer of Miss Cornell," answered Turner.
"Is it possible !" they exclaimed, all starting for the door, eager to get a look at Barnum, and several swearing ven- geance against the hypocritical clergyman.
That was all that was needed. Turner quietly took a seat, while everyone present started down the street in pursuit of the unsuspecting black-habited Barnum. He had just turned a corner, and was very innocently, though rather pompously, strutting down the sidewalk when he was overtaken by a dozen or more people. He observed, as they passed by, that each person looked back and stared with appar- ent wonder. At first he thought that it was the new suit that was attracting all the special attention; but he soon awoke from that happy illusion. The mob grew rapidly and he heard such remarks as
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"the lecherous old hypocrite" - "the sanctified murderer," "the black-coated villain " - "let's tar and feather him" -
"lynch the scoundrel," etc., etc. On Bar- num strutted, totally unconscious that such remarks could possibly have any reference to him. He soon realized that something was up when one of the crowd seized him by the collar while five or six others approached carrying a lone fence rail.
"Come," said the chap who had grabbed the collar of that lovely new black suit, "old chap, you can't walk any farther. We know you, and as we always make gentlemen ride in these parts, you may just prepare to straddle that rail !" What a predicament for one who was destined to provide amusement of all sorts for un- wonted millions ! His protests, his at- tempts to run, his questions seemed to make the fast-gathering mob all the more threatening. "Oh we know you," ex- claimed half a dozen nearest him - "you needn't roll your sanctimonious eyes; that game don't take in this country. Come straddle the rail, and remember the stack- yard !"
Poor Barnum grew more and more be- wildered; it seemed like a bad dream. He couldn't imagine what possible offense he was to suffer for, so he continued to shout "Gentlemen, what have I done? Don't kill me, gentlemen, but tell me what I have done."
"Alright, make him straddle the rail, we'll show him how to hang poor factory girls," shouted one of the crowd.
The man who had him by the collar then remarked : "Come, Mr. Avery, it's no use, you see we know you, and we'll give you a touch of lynch law and start you for home again."
"My name is not Avery, gentlemen; you are mistaken in your man," Barnum protested.
"Come, come, none of your gammon, straddle the rail, Ephraim," the spokes- man continued.
The rail was then lowered to allow Bar- num to be straddled on it without diffi- culties and he was about to be placed
according to orders, when the truth flashed upon him.
"Gentlemen," hoarsely shouted Bar- num, "I am not Avery; I despise that villain as much as you can, my name is Barnum. I belong to the circus which arrived here last night, and I am sure Old Turner, my partner, has hoaxed you with this ridiculous story."
"If he has we'll lynch him," said one of the mob.
"Well he has, I'll assure you," Barnum replied, "so just walk to the hotel with me, and I'll convince you of the fact."
This arrangement they reluctantly agreed to, keeping, however, a close hand upon the intended victim. As they all marched up the main street, more rein- forcements arrived, and finally, like a prisoner headed for the guillotine, Barnum was dragged up to the hotel.
Old Turner stood on the piazza ready to burst with laughter. Barnum humbly appealed to his partner to explain the mis- take, so that he might be liberated. The sly old trickster had a good laugh and then admitted to the crowd that there was some misunderstanding about the whole affair. "In fact," he said, "my friend Barnum has a new suit of black clothes on, and it makes him look so much like a parson, I concluded it must be Avery."
The mob saw the joke. Some apolo- gized for the rough manner in which they had handled Barnum, while others swore that Turner deserved the same fate. But the majority of the people roared with laughter, declared it was a good joke, and hoped the tables would sometime be turned, and Turner be made the butt of a practical prank.
After it was all over, Turner confessed to his partner that he hoped to secure some good publicity out of the episode, and that is the way it turned out. The joke was on everyone's lips. Turner and Barnum got to know the whole town - immense audiences jammed the big top to see the astounding feats of strength, agility and daring presented by circus men who played clever tricks upon each other.
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THE BIG SHOW
E world's most terrifying living creature, Gargantua the Great, larg- est gorilla ever seen on this continent, - over one hundred specimens including the rhinoceros or the Unicorn of Holy Writ, - the great difficulty in capturing this huge and savage creature, together with the almost impossibility of keeping him alive in a climate so uncongenial to his habits and constitution, renders the exhibition of a living rhinoceros the greatest curiosity in the animal world. - Bring 'em back alive Frank Buck with his caravan of recently captured beasts from distant wilds, including the world's first and only group of subjugated black leopards, phantom outlaws hitherto un- conquerable and untamable - Herr Driesbach the most celebrated of all animal performers will give an exhibition in a den of wild animals, performing with a terrific group of lions, tigers, leopards, cougars and panthers - the undisputed king of all wild animal trainers - Terrell Jacobs, daring death with the earth's greatest group of ferocious jungle-bred performing lions, direct from the African veldt, with instinctive hate for man and insatiable thirst for blood. Hideralgo, the Lion Tamer, will give a performance in a den of wild animals - colossal, stupen- dous, gigantic, amazing, inconceivable, sensational, etc, etc, - the same words, the same appeal to imaginations, the same play upon human gullibility, the same invitation to satisfy curiosity, today and a century ago. For, you have just read word for word alternating quota- tions from two circus advertisements, one published in Rhode Island years before the Civil War, and the other published not so long ago.
Although the familiar claim "excelling by far anything and everything ever achieved in the history of gigantic amuse- ments" is proclaimed annually, what may be found in any file of early nineteenth century newspapers, clearly proves that circus showmen haven't changed much in their methods of attracting customers, or, that the ticket buyers have learned to
demand anything fundamentally different for their amusement on the tanbark ring under the billowing canvas. Wild animals, educated horses, feats of physical skill, human monstrosities, jesters, buffoons and clowns, still remain the mainstays of the open air circus, and it is interesting to observe in this one important phase of public entertainment, the circus, how little times have changed.
On the other hand, we are inclined to believe that the rapid development of stage, screen and radio entertainment has brought about entirely new conceptions in show publicity. We are often im- pressed, and amused, by the efforts of press agents to exploit stars who happen to bask in the current limelight or spot light. Intimate detail life stories of theatrical or movie favorites in newsstand publications are something new, but Shirley Temple dresses, Deanna Durbin hats, and Judy Garland sweaters have had their counterparts in early show advertising history. A decade before the firing upon Fort Sumter the Bristol Phoenix was advertising Jenny Lind shoes, because the Swedish nightingale was then as popular in America, com- paratively speaking, as Robert Taylor, Greta Garbo, or Joan Bennett when this was written.
And, speaking of popular idols nearly a century ago, have you ever heard of the world renowned and celebrated man in miniature, P. T. Barnum's original Tom Thumb, who made a triumphant tour of Rhode Island nearly a century ago? Charles S. Stratton, named General Tom Thumb, by his manager and promoter, the master showman, P. T. Barnum, was born in Bridgeport, Connecticut, and began his public career on Thanksgiving Day, December 8, 1842. Barnum hired this diminutive child, not two feet high and weighing less than sixteen pounds, for exhibition purposes at a price of three dollars per week, but not many months had passed before the midget, his parents, and his promoter were making fortunes for themselves. Apparently, Tom Thumb
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made his first appearance in Rhode Island in the year 1847, following his historic European tour, and there is evidence to prove that he came here again, in 1850, the same year that Barnum brought Jenny Lind to Providence for one of her 150 American appearances.
One should read about the "Little Gen- eral " and his beautiful miniature equipage presented by Queen Victoria, consisting of the smallest horses in the world, and chariot, attended by elfin coachmen and footmen in livery. More than seven million people crowded into halls, tents, museums, and other public auditoriums to see Tom Thumb before he came back to Rhode Island in 1850 for a return engagement, and it can be well believed that the general was the little idol of the hour for every Rhode Island young- ster. His appearances virtually called for holidays, people stood in lines before the exhibition halls clamoring for admis- sion tickets, and when Tom Thumb, who had been received by all the principal crowned heads of Europe, appeared in his Lilliputian coach for a drive through the streets after his matinee appearance, no hero home coming, or movie star public promenade has ever aroused more enthu- siasm or greater demonstrations of con- tagious adoration.
During Revolutionary times Rhode Islanders indulged in very few, if any, public amusements. The occasional exhi- bition of a wild animal, the simple feats of a mountebank, displays of wax figures, tight-rope walking, and dancing, con- stituted the chief, and probably the only, modes of entertainment until the estab- lishment of the theatre, and, of course, the theatre met with violent opposition on the part of many who regarded the institution as a danger to morals. In February, 1781, a tight rope walking performance was presented in the Old State House on Benefit Street, and the artist was a Mr. Templeton, a native of Virginia who had come to Providence to establish himself as a dentist. Not meet- ing with the encouragement which he expected, he supplemented the business of tooth-pulling with occasional per- formances upon the wire. Circus and minstrel show history is filled with amus-
ing instances where the trombone player was also the troupe cook, and where the head tent man did a turn at juggling in the show, but it would be difficult to discover another case of a wire walker who doubled in dentistry. And, most interesting of all, Prof. and Dr. Templeton offered his skillful evolutions on a slender strand in one of the chambers of an historic Rhode Island structure, the Old State House.
Thirty or so years later another per- formance of rope-dancing, or walking the slack wire, took place at the Providence Theatre, then situated at the corner of Westminster and Mathewson Streets, on the present site of Grace Church. Again, on Independence Day, 1821, a Mr. Godeau and a Miss Adolphe performed; and a week later, a six year old child appeared as one of the slack wire performers.
Samuel MacCracken, an equestrian of some note, obtained a license from the Town Council of Providence, on June 5, 1826, to open a circus and retain the privilege of promoting such entertain- ment for the period of one year. He was widely experienced in the management of circuses and traveling shows and he was probably quite typical of those pioneer promoters who sought to give the public what it wanted in the way of spectacular entertainment. Through his efforts en- tirely, a temporary arena, constructed of wood, was erected on a lot facing West- minster Street and that ran back as far as Fulton Street. One of the entrances was on the latter street, and the other opened on Union, then known as North Union Street. This particular area was then referred to as Westminster Gardens, somewhat of an amusement park laid out with winding walks, gardens and shrub- bery. Various attractions had been presented there for some time before the establishment of the circus. This innova- tion, subsequently called the Westminster Circus, enjoyed a long and colorful career, and evidently it supplanted the Gardens as an amusement center, for no mention is ever made of the earlier resort after the wooden building with its show ring and rough board seats had been opened under the able direction of Professor MacCracken.
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From that time on, Providence became circus-minded and demands were great for a continual display of all the wonders that ingenious showmen could procure for the rapidly growing road shows. Providence was always listed as a good show town, and the wealth of circus ads to be found in the old newspapers proves that. Our great-great grandparents never saw a man shot from the mouth of a fire belching cannon, but they did see General Tom Thumb drive up West- minster Street in a pint-size coach drawn by pigmy steeds. Nelson Eddy never thrilled our ancestors with his melodious
ballads, but, in 1850, a huge crowd, aug- mented by droves of school children, milled about the Providence Railroad Station to welcome Jenny Lind. Première performances on Broadway often bring high prices for choice seats, but William Ross of Providence paid exactly $653 for one ticket to hear Jenny Lind sing in Howard Hall, on the evening of October 7, 1850. Tents may be larger; stages wider; lights may be brighter; but what showmen exhibit, and for what people stand in line to see and hear, there have been but few changes, at least in Rhode Island.
IDA LEWIS
0 F all the Rhode Island women who have achieved fame in one way or an- other ... and there have been many ... none attained the world renown of a mod- est little woman who was born and lived most of her life in Newport. In fact, it would hardly be exaggeration to say that she was more famous, particularly during the latter half of her life, than any Ameri- can woman of the past or present. She became popularly known as the "Grace Darling of America," but her real name was Ida Lewis.
Her father was Captain Hosea Lewis who was born in Hingham, Massa- chusetts. Like so many of his day who were born and brought up in seaside towns he followed the sea for a living. For a number of years he was a coastal and marine pilot and was employed on a New- port revenue cutter at the time he courted Ida's mother, the daughter of Dr. Aaron C. Willey of Block Island.
About a dozen years after they had been married, Captain Lewis was appointed by the government to the position of keeper of Lime Rock Light in Newport Harbor. At that time Lime Rock had only a small sentry box for the keeper in addition to the light, and Captain Lewis had to estab- lish a home for himself and his family on shore. He took a house at the corner of Spring and Brewer Streets in Newport and rowed out to the light twice every day for three years. Then, in 1857, the gov-
ernment built him a house on the island, a stone structure white-washed on the interior. To this building he immediately moved his family and set up house-keep- ing on the island.
But within six months, after the family had become nicely settled in its new quar- ters, Captain Lewis was the victim of a sudden paralytic stroke which left him a complete invalid. Ida, the second of his four children, was then fifteen years old, but, young as she was, she gave up the schooling which she had begun in Newport and joined her mother in taking care of the house, the other children, and the light. It was a difficult undertaking for the two women (one of whom was only a girl), but their determination would not let them give up, and they mastered the situation as it stood.
Ida had had no previous experience in handling any sort of a boat, but she learned to row very quickly for upon her fell the task of getting the other children to and from school and procuring pro- visions for the household. In the morning she set out with the children for the main- land and in the evening or late afternoon came to row them back to the light. The very necessity that forced her to the hard task of rowing toughened her young muscles and gave her a skill in handling a boat that became invaluable to her in later life. No kind of weather ever pre- vented her from making these trips.
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Short as they were, they were often extremely dangerous, and many a hardier boatman would not have attempted them. When a fierce storm was blowing, Captain Hosea, crippled and helpless, would sit in the window of the house on the rock and peer through the flying rain toward the shore where his daughter with her precious boatload was setting out to begin her fight with the waves. Some- times he would lose sight of the boat altogether as it sank low into the trough between great rollers, and would wonder for the hundredth time how his frail little daughter was able to keep afloat in such heavy seas. Often he did not dare to watch the progress she was making and would ask his wife to tell him when the boat reached the island. But Ida was not frail. The children trusted her courage and skill, and even her father, in moments of pride, would say that she could hold a boat in the teeth of a gale better than most men. That there were gales in truth is evident by the fact that Ida more than once had to cut off her frozen stockings at the knee once she reached her warm home.
The efforts of Mrs. Lewis and Ida en- abled Captain Hosea to keep his appoint- ment until his death in 1872. After that the former was appointed keeper of the light and Ida was made her assistant by a special act of Congress. Five years later, she succeeded her mother as keeper, and held the position for the rest of her life.
Her famous rescues began in 1859, and there are eighteen of them recorded. The first was of four young men from New- port's summer colony who overturned their small sailboat near the light. They could not hang on to the slippery hull and were being swept out to sea by a strong tide when Ida saw them. She set out in her rowboat at once, but reached them just in time. Wisely avoiding them as a group, she approached one at a time, tak- ing him into her small boat over the stern. Then she rowed them back to the light and provided them with hot food and warm dry clothing. Neither she nor the four young men mentioned the rescue to others, and it was not known until years later.
Six years later she rescued a drunken soldier who had thrust his foot through
the bottom of her brother's skiff, after having stolen it for a trip to Fort Adams. The next year she rescued another man who also had appropriated her brother's boat and had got caught in the tide. Within two more weeks after this she went to the aid of a man whose sailboat had struck on Little Lime Rock. Yet for this she received no thanks.
Probably her most noted rescue was made in 1869, when she set out in a bitter storm to aid two men whose cries she had heard. They proved to be Sergeant Adams and Private Mclaughlin, two soldiers who were returning to Fort Adams when their boat upset in a sudden squall. She needed all her months and years of exercise and rowing experience then. The waves broke over her boat threatening to swamp her again and again, but she finally reached the light with the two half- drowned men.
This rescue was immediately heralded around the world, and Ida became famous overnight. Newport basked in the great- ness of its heroine. Newspapers printed long articles about her; photographers came in droves to get her picture; theatri- cal managers offered her vaudeville en- gagements; and the tiresome stream of curious visitors began. Yet in the midst of all the honors that were suddenly bestowed upon her, she maintained a calm poise and modesty that was both unusual and admirable.
The name "Grace Darling of America" was given to her at once, but in reality she was a greater heroine than the English girl, Grace Darling. The latter made one great rescue, aiding her father to get five persons off some rocks in the ocean near the Farne Islands, but Ida Lewis per- formed her daring deeds unaided. Both of these women were small and under- weight yet they seemed to have the strength to meet any emergency.
In 1870, Ida married William H. Wilson of Black Rock, Connecticut, and went to the mainland to live with her husband. But the marriage did not turn out hap- pily, and very shortly she was once more attending to duties at the light.
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