OLL LEWIS: THE HAPPIEST SHOW ON EARTH

If you were interested in the wonders of the natural world during the 19th and early 20th centuries there were two places you could visit to feed your appetite for knowledge. The first of these was your local museum, where you could marvel at fossils and taxidermy of exotic animals like tigers or crocodiles. If you had a particularly good museum in your city it might even have mummies in it. Museums were there to encourage the public into gaining an education in history, the arts and the sciences for the ultimate advancement of mankind so there was a good chance you might learn something too. The second option had far less lofty ideals; it existed to make money and entertain. It was known by a number of names like the travelling show, the sideshow, the circus and the freak show.

Exposing the great unwashed to actual science or encouraging them to further study mattered little to most sideshow operators; in fact many of the attractions were designed to contradict popular scientific understanding. Put yourself in the mind of the average punter. Which attraction would you be more likely to pay money to see: something you could see in your local museum any time you wanted or a horse that can do maths by tapping its foot? My money would be on perhaps a little over half the people asked the question picking the horse purely because it’s not the sort of thing you see every day, but I bet a load more people would go for the horse if on posters there were taglines like “Science said it was IMPOSSIBLE, but it was WRONG!” screaming out at you. I know I’d certainly go and see the horse, then, if only to confirm to myself that the scientists were right and the horses ‘maths’ was no more than it following hand signals from its trainer.

Any and every scientific discovery and law was fair game so long as exploiting a dramatic-looking supposed contradiction could make a fair amount of publicity in the press and turn a profit for the show owner. So after the publication of Darwin’s theories of natural selection it was only to be expected that there would be sideshow exhibits that appeared to contradict his theory. That sideshow became known as ‘The Happy Family’ and was copied many times around the world. A Happy Family exhibit was when animals were placed in a pen with their natural predators with the animals showing very little animosity to each other, even drinking from the same water dish without batting an eyelid. Exhibitors of Happy Families would often draw attention to the fact that if their exhibit was to be believed, nature was certainly not red in tooth and claw and that Darwin’s ‘survival of the fittest’ claims, which were at the time considered the main driving force of speciation, were based on a falsehood. Needless to say this patter worked very well in large cities where the closest you got to nature was occasionally finding a nest of rats in your mattress; but not so well in more rural areas and smaller towns where the punters were more likely to see just how red the teeth and claws were first hand. Of course the exhibits didn’t actually disprove any scientific theory; they even misinterpreted the meaning of survival of the fittest in the first place; but people were intrigued by the mix of predator and prey living in harmony.

The most famous example of The Happy Family was part of P. T. Barnum’s Greatest Show On Earth of which the shows 1892 guidebook boasted:

‘In this cage will be found cats playing harmlessly with mice; dogs, foxes, monkeys and rabbits peacefully eating food out of the same dish without harming each other; owls, eagles, vultures watching the frolics of squirrels, bats and small birds, their usual prey, without making an attempt to capture or kill them.’

Certainly, if the guidebook’s claims were true then it was a most remarkable exhibit, if not rather crowded. Barnum claimed that the animals were not unhealthy or drugged but there was a secret as how the predators lost their will to kill prey and the prey lost their fear. As part of his publicity, and knowing that his exhibit would have to stand head and shoulders above those of other shows Barnum started to claim that his exhibit was the original Happy Family. This was untrue as the Happy Family had been a British invention. Francis T. Buckland recorded two Happy Families in London in 1852; one at Charing Cross and the other at Waterloo Bridge. Both exhibitors claimed to have been the originators of the exhibit to Buckland so even Barnum’s claims of originality were unoriginal. It is highly likely that Barnum visited one or both of London’s Happy Families on one of his visits to England and being the showman that he was, easily worked out how the effect was achieved.

The great ‘secret’ to making a Happy Family exhibit was to just pick the laziest and most docile individual animals you could find, keep them very well fed and remove any animal that didn’t get along with the others. Even better results could be had by raising the animals together from infancy. With enough money, time, skill and luck a showman could put together an impressive exhibit filled with exotic animals that was sure to impress anyone who came to see it, throw in a bit of humbug about how “Science said it was IMPOSSIBLE, but it was WRONG!” on the posters and you have a surefire hit.

There are still several Happy Family exhibits around today. Until at least the 1990s there was even one in Coney Island, New York, and most work on exactly the same principles. Thankfully, though, most modern Happy Families have a more educational, ecological basis than in their heyday and give greater space and better living conditions to the animals and the practice of grouping animals that would not co-exist in the wild has had its day. The modern successor of the happy family exhibit are the exhibits in zoos and aquariums that attempt to recreate natural ecosystems and habitats and these are usually free of carnivores, lazy and well fed or not.

CAT DANCERS

Well, I was quite pleased I managed to come up with something to write for yesterday’s editorial but pride was immediately drowned by the crushing realisation that I had to come up with something else for today! Gaaahh! As luck would have it, though, my Mum wanted to watch a film on More4 last night that turned out to be (vaguely) on topic.

Cat Dancers told the story of Ron and Joy Holiday, married ballet dancers who turned their act into a spectacular circus performance incorporating dance and trained big cats. Whether or not you approve of this use of wild beasts, the Holidays were popular, and eventually a third (human) member of the team was added, in shape of young circus performer Chuck Lizza – bizarrely the threesome (pun definitely intended) formed a sort of unofficial marriage later, exchanging rings in a private ceremony at the ranch where they lived with their menagerie. Sadly both Chuck and Joy were both killed within weeks of each other in 1998 by Jupiter, their white Bengal tiger.

Coincidentally, Ron and Joy met as children in their home town of Biddeford, Maine (U.S.).

FRISWELL'S FREAKY FEATURES: Training Elephants for fun and profit

The other day Alan Friswell, the bloke who made the CFZ Feegee Mermaid and also the guy responsible for some of the most elegantly macabre bloggo postings, wrote me an email.

He had an idea for a new series for the bloggo. Quite simply he has an enormous collection of macabre, fortean, odd and disturbing magazine and newspaper articles, and he proposed to post them up on the bloggo.

Alan Writes: "Yes! Welcome to Friswell's Freaky Features! An ongoing spot on the CFZ blog page where you will encounter the fun, the freaky, the frightening and on occasion, the downright horrifying. Many of these items are from almost forgotten archives and no doubt should, in many cases, have stayed forgotten. But no chance of that on this site! So be prepared to be amazed by the bizarre manifestations of nature, the abberations of the natural world and the complete (on occasion) mind-bending insanity of collective humanity. Read on...."

What a smashing idea, we thought, and so with a burst of alliteration that will - I hope - make Dr Shuker proud of me, here we go.

I think that we all have suspicions about that way that animals are treated when they are being 'trained' for circuses, exhibitions and the entertainment industry in general but when we see the way it's done in its full, cold-blooded reality, it can inspire us to think very dark thoughts about our own species....

Modern Mechanics, July, 1931

NEIL ARNOLD: The Living mermaids

I have known Neil for fifteen years now since he was a schoolboy mod with ambitions for adventure and I was an earnest young hippie who merely wanted to start a club for people interested in unknown animals. Nothing much has changed over the years. We are just both a tad older...

As mentioned by James Lloyd, in My Circus Life, 1925. A truly wondrous exhibit being a lady and a gentleman, who, for great novelty, sprang into a glass tank, measuring ten-feet in length by eight-feet in width, and consisting of four-feet of water. The individuals, able to sit and play cards, perform somersaults and even drink milk under water for five minutes, were labelled as ‘The Living Mermaids’. However, this peculiar couple were drunkards about town, and so, unable to find a place to stay, it was arranged for the tank to be drained and the performers to spend the night in the tank (still in their mermaid costumes), which had been bedded down with straw and covered over in rugs which acted as a roof.

After one long and tiresome journey, where the couple had indulged upon a bottle of finest whisky for warmth and fallen asleep, the village the wagon arrived at became one of hysteria. Several people had crowded around the tank, for the spectacle before them was one of mystery and fantasy. Beneath the bed of straw and rugs were two ‘mermaids’ lying peacefully, embraced in slumber. Many local folk were afraid to approach the exhibit for some believed that bears or even monkey’s were housed, whilst an Irishman believed that whatever lay in the tank was dead. A small boy approached the tank, only for a women to scream at him, “Come out of that, ye devil. Do ye want to be eaten alive ?”.

When one of the mer-beings flinched, startled observer almost leapt out of his skin and yelled, “What kind of baste it is at all ?”.

The dozing couple then woke, yawned and stretched themselves, without knowledge of their audience. Wishing to visit the nearest public house, they climbed a ladder, and removed their costumes by the time they had reached the pub. One witness exclaimed to Mr Lloyd, “I have studied natural history. Bedad, I never saw nor read of such animals, for mermaids have tails.”

Mr Lloyd replied, “Yes, but these misbehaved themselves, so I cut their tails off.”

The man replied, “You did right, sor.”

When looking back on the drama caused by the ‘mermaids’, Lloyd wrote, ‘This was the big advertisement for me.’

NEIL ARNOLD: Wolf Struck

I have known Neil for fifteen years now since he was a schoolboy with ambitions for adventure and I was an earnest young hippie who merely wanted to start a club for people interested in unknown animals. Nothing much has changed over the years. We are just both a tad older...

P.T. Barnum, an American showman in the 1800s, obtained, or at least attempted to obtain a true cabinet of curiosities for his travelling exhibitions. I’ve recently seen sketches of his ‘sea serpent’, ‘giants’, ‘monster python’ and of course, been intrigued by his ‘cherry-coloured cat’ fiasco, Siamese twins and Albino family.

In Kent, George Sanger, who had a menagerie at Margate, in Kent, was often as eccentric in his plots and plans. In Seventy Years A Showman (1926) he writes of a strange tale which he was behind, involving twelve fully-grown wolves, which had been bred at the Hall-by-the-Sea. The wolves were due to perform at his London theatre, he writes, “…and in due course the large den containing them was placed by itself in a thirty-horse stable with plenty of centre room for my purpose. Then, I sent for my slaughterman from Margate. When he arrived I said, ‘Now, Jim, here’s a quid for you’, at the same time, to his gratified astonishment, handing him a sovereign. When he had done thanking me, I said, ‘Now Jim, I want you to go into the stable at eleven o’clock tonight, and you will see an old, worn-out cream horse, whose life has become a misery, tied up near the wolves’ cage. When the audience have left the theatre, kill him quickly, and leave him where he falls. Be sure you don’t say a word to anyone for six months, and I will then give you a tenner.”

Sanger had an associate at the time named Taylor, but whose professional name was Alpine Charlie. He would play a major part in Sanger’s strange plot and would become the hero at the end of the plan. And so, with only the secret known to Sanger, Jim the slaughterman, Sanger’s agent, Sanger’s son-in-law, and Mrs Sanger, George Sanger set about his fiendish scheme. After supper, he sneaked out into the theatre, bereft of any watchman etc, who were enjoying a drink. In the dark, Sanger slunk into the area, checked that the horse had been slaughtered by Jim, lit up two jets of gas, let free the wolves, which were in fact as tame as dogs but without food for two days, and casually returned to the bar. Once there he told all in his attendance, “Okay lads, time to lock up.”

Of course, when they arrived at the theatre, at Palace Road, imagine the shock when Mr Sanger screamed convincingly, “There! What’s this ? Call the fireman and tell him to turn off the gas, Why is it burning there to waste like that ?”

As soon as the fireman turned up, a Mr Wells, the shrieks of, “Oh my God, the wolves are loose! They’ve killed one of the horses”, rang out across the theatre. Scotland Yard were informed of the chaos and those who were already in attendance, and not in on the scam, his their eyes as the wolves tore at the carcass of the horse.

“Where is Alpine Charlie ?” asked Sanger. It didn’t take long for several searchers to locate the man, and as thousands circled the theatre, all seeking a quick glimpse of the escaped wolves, the local press soon buzzed the area, eager for a story.

Sanger wrote: ‘The excitement was intense. I had achieved my sensation. Next day the papers, not only in London and the provinces, but all over Europe were full of it. They were quite wolf-struck. The Lord Chamberlain and the wise men of Parliament swallowed the bait, and the Prime Minister was asked if he was aware that, “Wolves had broken loose in London, killed a horse, and jeopardized the Queen’s subjects ?”.

The wolves had been safely caged by a plucky performer named Alpine Charlie. What he did not know, and what he was not likely to learn, was that the terrible animals had slunk without protest into their den when Charlie, with a rattan cane, had appeared amongst them and said, “Get in there!”.

The following week the wolves appeared in conjunction with the circus and the pantomime and everybody came to see them and their marvellous tamer, Alpine Charlie.’