He shushed his tone and winked at a little girl, “We would show you for
free but we have to feed her! Eats like
a horse, I tell ya!” Voice went back to
full volume, “We do keep the price to a minimum and you only need two tickets
to enter! You will not find such a
specimen anywhere else, she is the only one of her kind and we found her wandering in the darkest wilds of the South
American rainforest! All this for just
two tickets!” He swept his hand to the
poster conveniently located at arm’s length.
“Feast your eyes on the Fire Eater, Sword Swallower, Fat Lady, Bearded
Lady, Tall Man and the not to be missed…
The Incredible Suitcase Woman! She can
fold herself into your luggage, just imagine the possibilities!”
The man talking to the crowd , Ernest Tyron Hall, who was known as Ty, wend
his way toward the back of the crowd where a woman was waiting, by prior
arrangement, for him to get to her. She
was a young, very enthralling blonde woman and his approaching her began phase
two. “Step this way! Let the lady through, she wants to be the
first to see! Never will you get an
opportunity this great again! Right this
way, come on now don’t push, just follow us!”
The crowd began moving into a queue and Ty began collecting tickets from
them as they passed him and followed the woman into the large tent. Periodically, for the next five minutes, he
would call out enticements for passersby to join in and see the show. All in all, it took less than ten minutes to
fill the seats and as he closed the flap loudly exclaimed, “Sold out, you’ve missed
the opportunity to see the most interesting sights on earth, come back in an
hour and be the second to see the Monkey Girl!”, to the ten people heading
toward the tent.
Ty went to the stage, which was really the trailer that the tent and
supplies were transported on, and began the pre-show banter. Meanwhile, on the midway three booths down,
Edith Vadoma Romani, a.k.a. Madam Vadoma, the fortuneteller, was looking for
her twenty-seventh victim of the night.
The troupe all knew her as Vee.
She charged two tickets to tell half a fortune and two more to
finish. This tactic had served her well
for the three years she had travelled with this circus. The tickets were dollars to the performers,
well technically four cents, which were cashed in at the ticket office every
night. Carnival goers paid a dollar for
ten tickets and the carnival paid four cents for every one that made it into an
act or ride operator’s hands and was cashed in.
Vee spotted a mark and began a series of nods and come here gestures with
her fingers. It was all subtle. She never yelled after or further tried to
entice a mark. She had learned, within a
few days of arrival at the show that those who had a tendency to part with
multiple tickets were the ones that walked on by the first time. They would wander around the midway and think
about her subtle hints for a while and then when curiosity overtook them, they
came back. The ones that really paid off
were teens in love for the first or second time and forty-something women who
were lonely for the first time after being dumped by a husband or longtime
lover. The earlier ones took her words
and went off giddy and giggly with their friends. The older women were usually alone and ended
up trading tickets for time with a confidant and non-judgmental friend.
Several potential future customers
passed Vee’s small tent and then a woman approached who seemed determined to be
the next to sit in the tent and hear how her future would unfold. Vee surreptitiously studied the woman, as she
walked closer. Brunette, fortyish, a
good body build, well dressed and likely well-educated. She was unmarried based on the ring finger
and its lack of adornment, shadow or tan line.
There probably were no kids from the lack of wrinkles, belly bulge and
hip width. By the time the woman was at
the tent, Vee had her strategy ready and asked the woman, “What have you lost,
my dear?” The woman stopped dead in her
tracks and said, “My niece, she was supposed to stay beside me while I played
the ring toss but she was gone when I looked around.” Vee looked as thoughtful
as possible and held up a finger, as a wait a moment gesture, then said, “She
is in the Monkey Girl show tent, just over there.” The woman took off and Vee smiled like a
Cheshire cat and thought, “She’ll be back in a few minutes and drop at least
five tickets. Kids always ended up at
the Monkey Girl show, it was almost a sure thing.
Out on the midway ride operators catcalled young girls as they walked by
and the game operators called men who wouldn’t play to win their lady a prize, losers, and then jeer at them. All in all, there were probably two hundred
fifty people in attendance tonight, a good opening day by small town
standards. The next stop would be Gulfport,
Mississippi and then after a series of shows winter break in Pompano
Beach. Seven more shows was the mantra
that reverberated throughout the entire operation. They had been on the road for almost nine
months and performed in fifteen states.
The money was scarce and there was talk of war with Cuba, which meant
Russia and the possible end of the world.
Over in the management trailer, it was actually looking like the end of
the world. The seven cents per ticket
was inadequate to cover the circus’s cost and their lifestyle. One of the two would have to be adjusted, and
lifestyle was not the first candidate.
There was the house in Boca Raton, the sailing yacht and a collection of
four Cadillacs that all needed maintenance and care. Then, of course, there were the opulent
dinners in Miami. Three months was
really not long enough to take it all in and the wives had taken to spending
six months in Florida and travelled in a converted tour bus along with the
carnival when they had to. This was just
the domestic operation.
The men, when not involved with wine, women and song went on extensive
trips to Africa and South America looking for new attractions. Sometimes the travel was by air but mostly it
was by steamship. These expenses were
substantial and the ten investors were also clamoring for more return on their
money. The whole operation teetered on
the success of the next town’s show and soon the winter break would mean no new
cash for at least three months and then a large cash outlay to get the whole
operation back on the road when the north thawed out.
James Madison White and Michael Allen Salister were an odd couple to be
running a circus but fate and strikes in the coal and automotive industries had
left them each unemployed and destitute. They both eventually arrived, by hobo
express, in Miami looking for opportunity and escape from the cold. Most hobos were looking for a handout and
concerned about eating today, allowing tomorrow to be dealt with fresh each
day. Not Jim and Mike, they wanted to
make substantial money and return to the good life, permanently.
As is usually the case, these men ran into each other while trying to
pull the same bait and switch scam, that neither was any good at, and became
instant friends with a common goal, get rich at anyone else’s expense. They eventually heard that a circus needed
management and made their services known to be available by charming the
owners’ then wives. It was a great
success for the first five years. The
equipment was still on the newer side and people were still basking in the
prosperity of the post-world war economy.
The Korean War did not sink the feeling, or the economy, for the most
part, and people craved entertainment.
That’s where The Great J&M Travelling Carnival and Sideshow came
in. It wasn’t the greatest show on the
planet but worked well for the small towns it visited regularly.
The midway closed at midnight and those with tickets arrived at the booth
to get their cash. It was known that the
carnival managers were looking to line their pockets and the operation was
hanging on by a thread, so everyone wanted their cash immediately. It was not unheard of for a good night’s
take, and the management, to disappear before sunrise, leaving the operators
stranded and broke. Getting the tickets
cashed in at least guaranteed you had today’s money.
People began servicing the rides.
Bearings were greased and connecting pins checked. Trash was removed and vomit rinsed off. Leveling legs and jacks were adjusted and
then it was time to drink. The
performers were always the first to get their tickets cashed in and to get the
whiskey flowing. It may have also helped
that the Thin Man, Sal, was the brewer of the traditional Irish Spirit, and
that is spelled whiskey because only a Scot drinks whisky. Performers are egotists and think that they
are slightly above the ride operators and animal handlers. The fact that they always got to the whiskey
first is testament to this.
It was early when Ty made his way to Sal’s tent and got a ration of
drink, he wanted to go off and be alone this evening, since it was the last in
an area where the Milky Way was readily visible. The whiskey system worked by everyone who
wanted to drink bought the ingredients in proportion to their particular habit. Sal kept a close watch on who bought what and
how much each person drank. Sometimes
people tried to argue but since any one person’s excess came out of everyone
else’s share, these arguments never held much ground and the group would take
care of any excessive trouble. Clive
never drank more than his share. In
fact, he always bought a few extra pounds of grain and sugar to help ease the
tension of a spill or similar catastrophe.
Ty wondered to the edge of the field furthest from the road to look up at
the night sky. He had only arrived with
the carnival three months earlier as it passed through the small town of
Appomattox Court House, in southern Virginia.
It happened that the carnival was set up on one of the very few days
that he came down from the hills to town.
He was inquiring about a job and, as luck would have it, the last
Talker, some would say Barker, just happened to have a heart attack as he was
explaining his ambitions to the carnival managers. Someone came in and said something privately
to Jim and Mike, the managers. After the
slightest moment of hesitation, they told Ty that if he could pull the Talker
job off tonight, it was his permanently.
Ty’s predecessor left only a few handwritten notes in a jacket pocket and
little else. This was coupled with the
show beginning in half an hour. It was
not Ty’s intention to run away with the carnival. It just seemed the right thing to do as soon
as the opportunity presented itself. He
had been living with his uncle, his parents were long dead and the love of his
life had recently joined them after contracting Whooping Cough. It had taken her six long, and agonizing,
months to succumb and when it finally happened, it devastated him. He had held out hope for recovery to the very
end and when she stopped breathing, he carried her, in his arms, for four of
the seven miles to the nearest doctor.
He would have pushed on the entire seven miles but a friend who had a
flatbed truck picked him up after about four miles and let him hold her on the
truck bed the rest of the way to the doctor’s office. She was considered highly contagious and when
the doctor spotted them pulling up, he ran outside to prevent the body being
brought inside to contaminate the office.
It took the doctor twenty-five minutes to convince Ty that she was
really dead and told him to take her to the funeral parlor before others were
infected. It took every ounce of
strength for Ty to comply with the doctor’s orders and then he slept on the
funeral parlor’s front porch until the funeral was over. Then he slept beside her grave for three more
days before a thunder and hailstorm finally ran him off for cover.
Three months later, he found himself in front of a sideshow tent
lecturing about the acts and attractions waiting inside. He was a natural at the job and, although
never formally hired, he had instant tenure in the position and received
regular pay. His voice had the right
pitch and inflection to cause people in the midway to stop and listen, the
performers would never argue with the kind of results he got, in terms of a
crowd, and they all loved him after the first night. Here, he had a purpose and the talking made
him feel worthy of life and drink. He
found a stump and sat down to stargaze and drink until his cup was dry.
He was studying an especially interesting star formation, after consuming
half his drink, when Vee walked up and said, “I think that’s Canis Major.” Ty said, “It’s actually Sagittarius, where
the galactic center is rumored to be.
And, a good evening to you, Miss Fortuneteller.” Vee did not take this as a hint to leave and
said, “Good evening to you, now what are you looking for out there?” A few seconds pause punctuated the depth of
his reply, which was filled with sadness, “Long lost love and inner peace, of
course. What else does one seek among
the stars?” She said, “Call me Vee. You’re very interesting, Ty.” She flirtingly flipped her long and
exotically dark hair back over her shoulder to expose her flawless face and
tantalizingly dark eyes. Taking note of
her radiance, he said, “I’ve seen you about.”
She waited a second and came back with, “I read people for a living and
you’re a Tolstoy novel, why don’t you have a girl?” He said, “You’re the clairvoyant, so why
don’t you take a stab at it?” She said,
“Obviously she left you and you are devastated, so I go with dead.” He looked hard at her and said, “Good guess,
how’d you get it?” “Probability,” she said, “I know there are a few epidemics
around and where you joined us there had been several Whooping Cough deaths in
the months before we arrived. I always
read the newspapers of the next town before we arrive. It helps increase my odds of success.” He harshened up his tone and said, “It’s all
just a scam, then. Best guesses and
calculations based on the persons appearance and mannerisms.” She said, “Maybe for some. Not for me."
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