The cir

History - Marion

The circus that stayed all winter
By John Rich

No matter whether you are six or sixty, the word circus has a thrill - your step is a little lighter, and your heart beats a might faster.

In a small community to have a circus stop off for a day's show was the red letter day of the year. Very little work was done that day. But to have a circus stay all winter, what must that be like? Well, it happened here in the early 1900's.

One of the early shows to stop off pitched its tents where the high school gym now stands. Water for the animals had to be carried from the canning factory well nearby. The men had to pass the factory warehouse where rows and rows of canned goods were stored, and the temptation proved too great. As they walked by they would reach through the open windows and drop a can in their pail of water. After a time the factory manager was tipped off and the local constable was called in. He stationed himself inside the window and when the arm came through he grasped it and marched the man to the show owner who gladly settled quietly for all the stolen goods and were glad to get out of town.

All the local barns were covered with bills announcing another show which was to stop a few days later, and every small boy wanted to see this one. One country boy especially asked the man he was helping that summer if he could go.

'We are going to a family reunion that day, so you can't see the show, but if you will plant this bag of pumpkin seeds in the corn row you can go when you are finished,' the farmer said.

The lad got on the corn lot bright and early, but with four in a hill, every row was quite a job. Soon after the farmer left for his reunion, the boy went to the fence corner, poured the remainder of the seeds in a post hole, and was off to the circus. That fall as this boy and the farmer cut the corn, the farmer noticed that he had pumpkins only on one side of the lot. That afternoon when the farmer's wife brought a lunch to the lot, the men stopped under a free to eat. There was a huge mass of pumpkin vines growing out of the post hole. The lad broke down and told what had happened. The farmer was not too severe.

Another year a show decided to hit our town. Every boy was bound to be there, but some lacked the money, so set about early to earn it. One boy pleaded with his parents to give him enough to take his girl friend, but the parents told him, 'No, you can earn yours like the other boys, and not play ball all the time.'

Show day was near but no work had been done. The girl had been asked but the parents sat tight; this was going to be a showdown.

In those days, in order to get a drink other than hard cider, one had to drive a horse six miles to a nearby town. Sometimes after such a trip when they had made a business of it they came home the worse for wear. This night as the boys sat around the town pump they heard the rattle of a buggy coming from the south. They knew by the yells to the horse that if was Zeke - he had been out of town and had drunk his fill.

As he pulled his horse up by the corner where the town offices now are he began pawing in the bottom of the wagon. The boys around the pump went over and asked him what was the matter.

'Boys,' he said, 'I've lost my false teeth, and I'll give any one $2 who'll find them.' The boy who needed money for the circus raced to a nearby store and came back with a lantern. Sure enough, under the foot rail below the dashboard were the teeth. Zeke put them in his mouth, paid over the $2, and both he and the boy started for home. The boy would tell his folks he could go to the circus without working.

This was the circus that liked our town. It was a little better than the run of the shows - had about 20 wagons. and many kinds of animals. Its owner was Al F. Wheeler who said if it could be arranged after the show season was over, he would pull back and winter here. A place must be found for his animals and horses. A few live men set about it, and late in October the show returned.

Most of the heavy horses were turned out in the barnyard on the Tom Clark farm, now owned by Stanley Purdy. The trick ponies were wintered on Union Street to the rear of the Parish House. The fancy riding horses and animals were on the Malcolm Farm, (we know it today as the Tuttle farm) south of the village. The barn back of the brick house was fitted up for the lion and other wild animals. The door was packed with straw and only a side entrance was used. For warmth a stove was set up, and the animals were in cages around the outside with the lion in his cage in the center.

In order to keep in practice each Sunday afternoon, Captain Snyder would go in the cage with the old lion. You can hardly imagine with the barn as tight as if was, and the stove giving off heat, what the animal odors were like. In a small town, with nothing to do on Sunday afternoon, all the young folks would head for the old barn, and watch Captain Snyder enter the lion's cage. When they got home, however, they were greeted with,

'Oh, I know where you have been; go hang your clothes in the yard.'

The wagons were stored back of the buildings where the bank now stands, and it was used for a paint shop near spring to put a fancy, new coat on the wagons. What a temptation, on a Hallowe'en night, for a small boy who had been kept after school many nights to study spelling, to put a wagon with a lion's cage on it, on his teacher's yard. All the other kids took a hand and the monkey cages, ticket wagon, and even the cook wagon found a place - most of them in the school yard.

But there is a catch to moving property belonging to a man who lives in another state. By ten o'clock that Hallowe'en night Captain Snyder knew where every wagon was, and he sent a telegram to Mr. Wheeler in Pittsburgh. He in turn wired the sheriff, and troopers on horseback were here in full force.

At this time the committee of men who had induced the circus to winter here came forth. They agreed to have every wagon in its place within 24 hours, and repair all damages. That night by 6 o'clock the work of returning the wagons started. An old man on the end of the tongue with several boys pushing could be seen on nearly every street. Captain Snyder was on the receiving end, everything was checked and put in order, but never forgotten by the younger class.

Toward spring, circus troops began to drift into town, and by the last of March the town was a busy place. Wagons were being painted, horses were caught and groomed, and over 300 horseshoes nailed on by the local blacksmith. A hall was rented, the show practiced its performance, and the band played by the hour. A couple of musicians applied for a job in the band - one was an expert, the other could hardly play a note, but one would not work without the other. The reason was apparent on opening day.

The show was to play its first performance in town on the first Saturday in May. The parade formed by the Grange Hall, went down Palmyra Street, then countermarched through the main street to Union and around to the circus lot. The band led on foot, but they hardly hit Main Street when the expert cornet player fell to the street in a fit. His sidekick dragged him to the sidewalk, gave him a pill, then rushed on to take his place in the parade. When the line returned, the musician had revived, brushed himself off and as they went up Main Street his cornet could be heard above all the rest. No one in the north end of town knew what had happened.

The show played to a good crowd, but the next day, Sunday, they were all packed by daylight. Everyone was on hand to bid them goodby as they headed south. They had left a lot of money in town, given work to a lot of people, and the boy who was a poor speller had seen a lion's cage on his teacher's lawn.

The old town settled back; they had surpassed all the other towns in the county. They had a circus that stayed all winter.

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