Happy Halloween

Postcard

BOO!

Got any candy?

The Last Sideshow Part 9

For us, the show is over. I am nearing the end of my sideshow adventure, but I want to reset the clock a little. I wanted you, dear readers, to get the sensation of the bally and the show first. Things did not happen in quite that order.

I met Ward Hall after I saw a show. It was one of his employees giving the bally when I first walked up. After watching the show twice, I left and Ward was onstage beating a bass drum to help draw the tip.

Introducing myself, I told Ward that I drove up from Chicago to meet him. He replied, “I don’t know why you would do that.” This is the first clue to Ward’s personality. He is humble and even as he speaks of his life and his accomplishments, it never sounds like bragging.

Ward took me into the tent and introduced me to who he could. We talked about sideshows, pitching magic, and exhibiting oddities. I got a good look at his Feejee Mermaid. Ward’s generosity impressed me.

To quote the cliché, he didn’t know me from Adam yet, treated me like an old friend. When I asked permission to record the ballys, he jumped up on the stage and spit one out, ad-lib. Unfortunately, our time together was too short. He, along with Poobah and Chris Christ, signed an old “World of Wonders” poster that I bought on Ebay. I asked if I could look him up in the off-season.

The quote goes something like this, “When a man dies, we lose a library.” Ward is the American library of sideshow. I wish to draw out a few volumes before that library closes. Even if I don’t see Ward down the road, I’ll never forget the few hours that I spent with him.

There is only one more part for me to write. It is the part I have been avoiding. I watched and listened to a half-dozen ballys and shows. Up until this last part, I have tried, with varying degrees of success, to hold any criticism. In the last part, I will discuss the good and the bad of the show. In addition, I’ll try to offer some solutions. See you next time.

Halloween Quote me

"There is nothing funny about Halloween.

This sarcastic festival reflects, rather, an infernal demand

for revenge by children on the adult world."

--Jean Baudrillard

(fucking party pooper--bill)

Quote Me -- Halloween Edition

"Could it be that all those trick-or-treaters wearing sheets

aren't going as ghosts but as mattresses?"

-- George Carlin

Last Sideshow -- Last Photos

The Headless Woman

(Diane in chair and BJ on left side, blue shirt.)

Bed O' Nails

(Lady Diabla prone with Madam Tea-Lee seated)

Looking into the Blade Box

The Sword Ladder with Ms. Diva

The Last Sideshow? Part 8

Ms. Viva, after being shocked, arachnid-ized, beheaded, disembodied, and soon to be steel footed, will introduce only a single illusion. Looking in our imaginary sideshow almanac, it is another classic, appearing shortly after and directly related to Spidora’s creation. It is Serpentina.

To Ms. Viva’s right, she opens the raised cabinet to reveal a tree branch horizontally bisecting the interior. On the branch appears to be a large constrictor-type of snake, a long scaled body with the head of a woman. It must the half-twin sister of Diane, our sword-swallowing siren, because the faces match. Again, our view is momentary and Viva hides Serpentina away. The final act of the show is about to begin.

Madam Tea-Lee is her name. We’ve seen her twice already. First, when we walked in removing the blades from the blade box. Second, she sat on the reclining Lady Diabla as a climax to the bed of nails. At one time, the circus, the carnival, the sideshow provided safe (a relative term) haven for the odd, unusual, criminal, and disenfranchised of society. Many, uncomfortable in the “straight” world, find acceptance under canvas. Madam Tea-Lee is heavily tattooed and heavily pierced. Shocking, perhaps to patrons from the heartland, but not iconoclastic anymore. She is a sideshow cliché, de rigueur with the emergence of shock shows like Jim Rose’s.

That aside, Madam Tea-Lee is the best talker of the group. She begins her set by moving to the front of a side stage and performing fire manipulation. That’s a fancy way of saying fire eating. She does it as well as anyone. Marring her terrific turn, the act is performed at floor level, which prevents most of the audience from seeing it. After her act, she’ll move over one stage to her left.

On that stage, she reveals Bessie Howe, (not Vikki Condor as the banner advertised) the four-legged girl. Between sets, Lady Diabla has not only gained a new name, but also sprouted two additional, all-be-it temporary, legs. Diabla...Bessie...who-ever...becomes a one-woman chorus line performing a high kicking dance while seated in an enormous chair. Tea-Lee returns the audience to the main stage and the Ballerina of the Blades.

She directs our attention to a short ladder, its rungs replaced with swords. She bangs an extra sword against the blades to prove the reality of them. The sharpness of the blades is left to our imagination. Ms. Viva, now bare foot, ascends and descends the ladder, her feet unscathed their journey. Now, we return to where we came in, to the blade box.

Madam Tea-Lee opens the wooden coffin and Lady Diabla (sans extra appendages) returns to lie in the box. After closing and locking Diabla in, Tea-Lee will drop 13 over-sized blades into slots pre-cut in top of the box. There are three large blades and ten smaller blades. I can best describe them as big metal pizza spatulas without the long handles.

The first large blade slices the box in two. The second and third cut each half into half; the box is now quartered. The remaining ten blades penetrate the box in diagonal angles seemingly leaving no space for Lady Diabla to exist. But, Madam Tea-Lee assures us that, indeed, “this is not a magic trick. She (Diabla) is not under the box, behind the box, or vanished from this box.” In answer to the unasked question, Diabla’s hand slips up between the blades to wave.

“Lady Diabla is not a magician. She is a contortionist.” Madam continues. In order to perform this illusion, Lady Diabla must “bend, twist, fold, and contort her body around each of the blades.”

The story moves to the blow-off. We learn that this act is an extra feature. Lady Diabla performs this, her traditional family act, only by the good favor of the audience. For the price of one dollar and one dollar only, we can climb up on the stage, look into the box, and see her pretzel like condition.

Yes, I’ll pay my dollar and so will many others. I don’t do it for the cheap and badly photocopied souvenir postcard. I don’t do it to see how the trick works. I don’t do it to see a scantily clad woman snaked around the metal obstructions. I do because that is the thing to do. Madam Tea-Lee told the story and sold it well. Call it showman’s honor, if you will. I become a shill for the house and pay for the privilege. So will you, given the chance.

Madam Tea-Lee talks a steady stream. I am impressed. Some of the lines are long; she keeps the line moving, keeps selling the ding to stragglers, and keeps the interest in the rest of the room high. When the last of the curious depart, she begins to remove the blades. Tea-Lee talks on the subject of this being a continuous sideshow. She points out the exhibits to the right side of the tent including the replica skeleton of Ling-Mae, the Chinese giant woman.

Uncoiled, Lady Diabla receives her applause.

Madam Tea-Lee introduces Prof. Chumley and leaves the stage.

The show goes on.

Quote Me -- Halloween Edition

"Nothing on earth so beautiful as the final haul on Halloween night."

--Steve Almond

The Last Sideshow? Part 7

BJ is the Tennessee Tuxedo to Chumley’s...um...Chumley. Later, Ward Hall tells me BJ works for Abbott’s Magic Company in Colon, Michigan. BJ has presence. He delivers his script with enthusiasm, even the corny jokes. Except, he lacks confidence in his material, almost apologizing after each groaner, rather than enjoying the moment. This fault is not only his own. I see it everyday in my store. After practically every joke, one salesman follows with, “Just kidding,” or “Hey, come on now”.

Being an improved speaker over Chumley, BJ handles a longer set. His first introduction directs us to stage right and a four-foot square curtained box on raised legs. It is a classic sideshow illusion. BJ does all but blow dust of it when he opens the curtain.

“She has eight legs, and I think that’s great. You should see her dance a jig. The head of a beautiful woman, the body of a spider, it’s Spidora.”

Spidora’s visit is brief. Her appearance is especially confusing to the audience partially because she is a twin of Ms. Viva and partially because the audience did not listen when Prof. Chumley told us that, there would be “illusions in the show, you’ll know them when you see them, and they are just for fun.” I don’t know what the rest of audience was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

We move from Spidora’s box on one end of the stage to the other end of the stage and the guillotine. This is an impressive piece of apparatus. Well-worn and stained, (perhaps with blood) thick timbers make up the frame. BJ cranks up the heavy blade with a click, click, click. Ms. Viva returns, yet again, and puts her neck at risk.

At the top of its rise, the blade automatically releases. The blade crashes down. Like watching slow motion replay rather than real life, Ms. Viva’s head slides down into the waiting box.

“It was less bloody in rehearsal,” BJ says.

The now disembodied head does not float over stage and sing a song. It does not even roll down the stage and answer questions. Instead, BJ struggles with the box that seemingly holds Ms. Viva’s flesh pumpkin. Next to the guillotine is a chair and a board stretches between the arms of that chair. BJ seemingly dumps the head of Ms. Viva out onto the board. She speaks briefly with BJ, but apparently, this part of the script was left up to the participants. The tête-à-tête is mercifully short. Viva is re-boxed.

BJ gets to show off his talents, next. He juggles knives. In the half a dozen shows I watched, he dropped them-- every show.

Trying to fit twelve acts into a half hour has advantages and weaknesses. The poor acts are over before the audience can hate them. Mostly. But, the good acts weaken without time for proper build up.

The audience’s attention redirects to a side stage. The curtain opens to reveal a bed of nails. A large bed of nails. I never have seen such a densely populated bed of nails. It reminds me of iron fur. BJ tells us these nails are real. I believe him. I'm in the business. Will the rest of the audience believe him without evidence to the contrary? With the fakery already observed, they would do better to prove the menace of the spikes.

Lady Diabla, the heroin chic girl who was in the midst of the blade box when we walked in, mounts the stage to lie upon the bed. She does to little response. The lack of implied danger to blame. Tea-lee, a heavily tattooed and pierced beauty, joins the stage and sits on the prone Diabla. There is a smattering of applause.

Back to center stage, BJ turns over the show to Diane. She swallows swords. They are real and examinable (both the swords and Diane, I imagine). Diane gulps down the first and removes it. She then swallows the second one. She bends at the waist, mouth wide to display the blade’s path. Diane finishes by allowing an audience volunteer to slide the sword out of her throat.

Diane turns the stage over to the most abused performer in the group, Ms. Viva. This time she will tell the tale instead of being the object of it.

Lord Isaac Ackerley Butterworth-Toast

This poem is based on the poem, Colonel Fazackerley by Charles Causley. I did it as a writing exercise, rhyming quads instead of couplets. I thought it turned out fun.


Lord Isaac Ackerley Butterworth-Toast
bought an old castle complete with a ghost.
A resident, I’m sure, he rather not host,
especially him being more British than most.

It was a manor home beyond compare,
but why would a Lord risk such a scare?
You see, the estate seller failed to declare
to Ackerley that a spook was in there.

Late that first evening, while waiting to dine,
Lord Isaac was tasting a new sherry wine.
And just as the bell rang seven, eight, nine,
a light from no source began to shine.

Lord Isaac Ackerley could do nothing but gape,
at this oddly bluish translucent shape.
Thinking that perhaps it had just been the grape,
he wished, “Oh! for a blank video tape.”

From where, the Lord had not a clue,
came this light the fade color of blue.
It looked like a man, but in space it flew.
It could hardly be someone he knew.

“My dear fellow,” Isaac said, ‘that is really the best.
Can you do that long, or do you need to rest?
If so, then please, sit, be my guest.
And tell me your trick, I’ll not be a pest.”
At this, the dread ghost gave a hideous yell,
so deep and dark, like from the depths of hell.
“Please,” Isaac asked, “could be it a secret spell,
or something we can produce, package, and sell?”

The phantasm had then made a horrible face,
as it flew to and fro, all about the place.
It broke every plate, two mirrors and a vase.
It even tore the curtains of delicate white lace.

Isaac hardly could open his eyes to peek.
The Lord laughed, as tears run down his cheek.
“Here’s the entertainment for which I long seek,
and just as things were looking most bleak.

“My house-warming party I hope you won’t spurn.
I dare say, kind sir, you must give us a turn.
And please, dear fellow, don’t take me too stern,
but this fantastic trick you just must help us learn.”

And now, the poor spectre --quite out of his wits--
proceeded to shake himself almost to bits,
this man, he was giving him these terrible fits,
so he even tried singing some of Barry Manilow’s hits.

But Lord Isaac Ackerley, just as before,
was simply delighted and called out, “Encore!”
At which the ghost could stand no more,
and was never again seen on a castle floor.

“Oh dear, such a pity!” Isaac Ackerley said.
“I will certainly miss that dear old Ned.
He never was so much more alive, when dead.”
And thus, Lord Isaac Ackerly did away to bed.

The Last Sideshow? Part 6

“Professor Chumley” is well named, with more than a passing resemblance to the cartoon walrus. The first of three inside talkers, he introduces the show. The audience only half-listens to his lackluster speech. Fidgeting, the audience hardly stands in the same position or place for more than a moment. They want the wonders promised outside.

Chumley spiels on the history of sideshows, the “illusions” in the show, and the working acts that make up the modern sideshow. He warns us not to try any of this at home after which he pounds an ice pick into his nasal cavity with the microphone. The pick is just as quickly removed and our attention is directed to one of the side stages.

To the left of the main stage, there are three smaller curtained platforms. The one of interest at the moment is a smallish riser with a tall, narrow frame. The curtain, we will find, hides the first illusion of the show, The Headless Woman. And it is a beautiful woman’s body apparently without a head, just a mass of tubes where her neck terminated. It was only a brief display and we are back to the main stage.

Our Professor oversees one more act, the electric chair. A young sleepy-eyed girl (Ms. Viva) decked out in a cocktail party dress joins Chumley. The electric chair approximates the death seats seen in old-time prison photographs. Attached to the chair is a large box that apparently is the generator or the regulator or the something.

Ms. Viva sits in the chair. Chumley turns the switch. He assures us that voltage is now coursing through her nubile body. The only indication that anything is happening is a small light at the top of the box goes on. To prove the supposed electrocution, Chumley retrieves a four-foot fluorescent tube and holds it out for her to touch. As she does, it lights. Dimly. He runs the tube up her arm and down her body to her foot and it continues to glow faintly. The act is over and the second mc, BJ is introduced.

Hearse Song

Everytime is a time for spooky things in my world, but in October the rest of the world joins in with the fun. I will be post a lot of interesting poems and stories for the holiday season.

First, two books to read to help you get in the mood.

Chicago Haunts by Ursula Bielski -- I've read every book on ghosts in the Midwest and Chicago and this is the best. From the Chicago based small press publisher Lake Claremont Press, Ursula's book is better written, better researched, and more interesting than any other ghost book. These universal stories could come from your home town, but you'll also get some Chicago history and sociological insight.

Death Makes a Holiday by David J. Skal -- The true history of Halloween. David cuts through the propaganda, miss-conceptions, distortions, and bullshit surrounding the "ancient" holiday of All Hallow's Eve. The truth is out there and it is in this book.


Second, I bring to you a slightly rewritten version of The Hearse Song, a fun little poem that I have never seen credited to any author. If you know the history of this poem, I am interested.

The Hearse Song

Show due respect as the hearse goes by,
for you may be the next to die.
They zip you up in a big black sack,
embalm you so you don't come back.
They stuff you in an expensive box,
only to cover it with dirt and rocks.
Soon your coffin will begin to leak,
and all sorts of buggies play hide-and-seek.
The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
they squiggle and squirm and slither about.
They'll eat your eyes, dine on your brain,
if you weren't so dead you'd go insane.
They set up house in your open chest,
and use your guts for an egg nest.
They chew and chomp and crunch from head to feet,
'til there is nothing of worth left to eat.
Then you'll dry like an old bread crust,
and finally crumble into powdery dust.

Last Sideshow Photo 5