Circus Historical Society
Bandwagon, May-June 1956
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Bandwagon, Vol. 3, May-Jun, 1956. Note: Only some articles are included in this online edition. Illustrations are not included. The Circus Historical Society does not guarantee the accuracy of information contained in the information in these online articles. Information should always be checked with additional sources.
St. Louis (AP) - A one-time circus queen, who died apparently penniless lost December, actually left a trunk full of jewels.
She was Dolly Varden, aerialist and equestrienne, once called the goddess of the tan bark trail. She died of cancer at the age of 84.
W. W. Sleater III, attorney for the estate, said today the jewels - diamonds, rubies, emeralds, gold and silver - possibly could be worth as much as $100,000, "but we won't know the amount until an appraisal is made."
He said an appraisal will be started today or tomorrow.
DOLLY VARDEN, known to her neighbors as Mrs. Raymond O'Dell, later was active in welfare and religious work. Before going to City Hospital last fall, she left the unlocked trunk with a friend, Andrew Schrick of St. Louis.
Schrick said he didn't bother to open that trunk or another one which contained old circus costumes, before turning them over to Sleater.
Noble Edward Dyer, a cousin of Mrs. O'Dell, of St. Louis, is administrator of the estate and will receive the jewels unless another relative is found. No will has been found.
"One diamond looked like the headlight on a car," Sleater said.
Miss Varden was born in Mount Carmel, Ill., and was on the stage for 12 years before entering circus work. She once traveled in her own private railroad car and had chocolates, shoes and clothes named for her.
It all looks so easy! It isn't. When you see a group of beautifully formed, graceful, vital people fairly lilt from the back door to the ring before you - only those who know can appreciate what has gone before.
First: Careful choice is made by trainers whose keen judgment classifies the pupil. Briefly, there are special aptitudes which qualify individuals for "carpet" (ground) fixed bar or leaping. Some artists have been found who are capable of all three. Basic exercises are begun, often when quite young; and practice from that moment continues throughout the professional life of the acrobat.
Breasting the bar, circling the bar, upstarts, cutaways, swings, falls, somersaults-backward, forward-single, double, triple. The last named is in the nature of an engraved invitation to Death. Yet many young, enthusiastic and ambitious men have dreamed of reaching this goal of perfection in their work. Many marvelous acrobat-leapers however, have lived longer than average lives. George H. Batcheller (1827-1913); Robert (Bob) Theodore Stickney (1846-1928), and George H. Kelley (1841-1921) and John Worland (Juan Comash) (1855-1933).
It was in the late '70's that leaping changed from its original ground "vault" to an elevated running board. The latter was almost like fancy diving, with the rather important difference that the leaper landed on a mat instead of in comparatively safe water. Some of the greatest were performing at this time. "Big Red" Quigley and Alex Siebert presented their double-twisting-double-somersaults over the backs of stock such as horses, camels or elephants.
In this decade, we have been told (I almost said "sold") that leapers 'flew through the air' over the backs of twenty to twenty-two elephants. I discover that at this time (1879-1881) Sells Brothers led the field with eight elephants. Forepaugh added nine "dancing elephants" to his herd of five, shortly after 1881. Forepaugh and Sells combined in 1896 with nineteen elephants. They had elephants - true - but not one leaper on the bill.
One would think it quite wonderful enough to be able to do a double and land on "dry land" without a broken neck or back, with or without even one elephant. George Miller managed the triple two times. His neck was broken as he landed after the third attempt. Johnny Aymar lost his life in a similar accident. William Hobbes died at his first attempt to do the triple and Dick Beswick and Fred O'Brien were both seriously injured doing doubles in 1877. O'Brien died of his injuries.
Perhaps the greatest of these leapers was Juan Comash [sic John Comosh], known as John Worland. Time after time Worland is said to have accomplished the triple somersault and lived! Twice he landed standing upright. This is almost unbelievable and it is just possible that some were not too anxious to believe it, There were whispers of "fraud." Worland proved his claim before the Mayor of New Haven and a huge audience, in a public performance - and what a performance! The leap was executed in perfect form and this was one of the two times Worland landed gracefully ON HIS FEET. It is declared that affidavits attesting to the truth of this record were made but some are not convinced, even now.
And WHY is the triple somersault so dangerous. Why have so many men been terribly injured or have met death doing this difficult but beautiful feat? Circus performers (bless them) do, so many difficult, beautiful and dangerous acts every performance that many have wondered why the leapers have disappeared completely. The explanation which sounds most reasonable to me, at least, is this:
After two turns a momentary black-out occurs. Gravity takes over and pulls the (heavier) head foremost and down as the body falls. Only seconds are allowed and there is no time to "catch" before landing. The head strikes and the neck or back - or both - are broken.
Since those days from time to time the public has asked that the leapers be brought back. Personally, I hope no one ever tries it again. Many times while fascinated by other breathtaking acts (and believe me, we still have many of them), I've found myself "watching" with my eyes closed and saying a fervent prayer that they wouldn't fall. THEY are not afraid - but I AM!
By John G. Quinius. Bandwagon, Vol. 3, May-Jun, 1956, pp. 9-10.
Written in 1900 by John G. Quinius. Furnished the BAnd Wagon by his son Herman M. Quinius, CFA of Bette Leonard Tent, Wichita, Kansas. Please note these stories were written and published for childrens entertainment over 55 years ago.
This will be the last letter I'll write you from New York, for tomorrow we begin to travel toward the west, the end of our journey being San Francisco. Perhaps the management at the very last moment will decide to make the southern trip. If so, we'll have our last stand and exhibition at New Orleans instead of near the Golden Gate. I don't care where they go, just so we get started, for the "travel fever" is in the air, and I, as well as nearly all those connected with our show, am getting restless and anxious to be once more on the move and on the road.
One of the departments of which we are very proud is our grand and large collection of birds, and these I'm going to describe to you in this letter. I suppose it will be only proper to put the Bald Eagle at the head of the list, because the people of the United States have adopted this bird as the emblem of our Republic, no doubt having honored him thus because the White-headed, or as more commonly known, Bald Eagle, is the most beautiful of all the eagle tribe. The first year of his life his color is a bluish gray, the second and third year changing to light and dark brown, and during the fourth year becoming perfect in plumage, namely, a dark brown, with white head and tail, and eyes of a straw color, his beak and feet and claws also being of this straw color. When full grown, he is generally three feet long and measures about seven feet from tip to tip of wing when fully outstretched. The male is usually a trifle smaller than the female, and, strange to say, less daring than his mate. This trait, however, is common to all birds of prey, the females of all being more brave, aggressive, and bold than the males.
Next, I'll describe the White or Whooping Crane, of which we have two fine specimens. When at home, these cranes live in the salt marshes and desolate swamps of the South, and none of the crane family is taller or statelier or more beautiful, their fine white and creamy plumage, with black legs and bald forehead, and fluffy tail, making them "pleasant to look upon." Some of the people down South say that at times these cranes assembly in great numbers, and like an army of soldiers, form in line, each one standing stock still, stiff and erect. Suddenly one of their number will step out, open his wings, and begin dancing before the assembled hosts. This dancing the people call "preaching." Another peculiar thing about the White or Whooping Crane is that when young they are brown instead of white. I'm glad the cranes do not speak often, for their voice is loud and piercing, not unlike the cry of a hound.
Of owls we have quite a collection, and when the Great Horned Owl cries, "Waugh O! waugh O!" all the other birds look startled. Another funny sound he sometimes amuses us with is one that sounds like the cackling of an old rooster who is running to save his life with the cook of the household pursuing him with fire in her eye and a hatchet in her hand. I understand that the harshness of the owl's cry is caused by the width of his throat. None of the birds of prey, however, has a beautiful voice. Every one of you has seen owls, so I'll not describe them further.
Now, I'll call your attention to the swans in the next cage, one pair of white, one pair of black. These, although the most graceful of birds when gliding and swimming about on a body of water, look very uncouth and helpless in their cage of wood and wire. Their voices sound like trumpets, and I suppose that is why one of the white varieties is called the Trumpeter Swan; the other kind, very similar in looks and color of feather, being called the Whistling Swan. Generally, wherever there is an artificial lake connected with a city or public park, the place is not considered complete without a few swans, for the boys and girls all like them and love to feed them, and the grown-up folks like to watch them and see them dive and swim.
Last year when we were showing in Boston, the city of culture and baked beans, our largest ostrich swallowed a spike which an Irishman had offered him. The iron in the food didn't agree with him, and from the way he acts, there's "something on his breast" even yet. The man who cares for him and his mate had to hobble this big ostrich's legs to keep him from kicking and clawing everybody in sight. This hobbling is only done, however, when the pair is shown in the open near the elephants and camels, When they are in their cage, his legs are freed from their shackles, and he can kick as much as he pleases. No doubt he often thinks of the time he used to spend running over the sands of the deserts, or of the glimpse he got of the big ostrich farm near Los Angeles, as we were speeding homeward last year through California.
I wish I had time to write more about this large California ostrich farm, where so many of the beautiful ostrich plumes we see the ladies wearing come from. I am sure, also, that you would be interested to know how the Boers of South Africa raise great families of ostriches much as we raise chickens. Perhaps I can write you about this later, just now the time allotted me for the writing of this letter will not permit it.
In closing I am just going to mention a class of birds which are so well known to you that it will not be necessary to describe them. These are the geese, ducks, chickens, pea fowls, guinea fowls, and pigeons. We have in our collection six varieties of geese, twelve kinds of ducks, twenty-five different breeds of chickens, white and colored pea fowls, brown, pearl, and white guinea fowls, and pigeons in size from the very smallest parlor tumbler to the very largest and longest pouter.
Good-bye! I'll write you next from Philadelphia, the city of peace and good will.
An experience similar to the one Androcles had with the lion befell a hunter in Africa. He encountered an elephant limping from something which had entered his foot. The hunter managed to get close enough to the elephant to extract a sharp-pointed stone. The elephant trumpeted gleefully and lumbered off.
A few years later, back in civilization the hunter attended a circus. When the elephants rumbled on to the sawdust with their earth-trembling dance, the third elephant from the last spotted his Good Samaritan, broke formation and headed for the man. He picked him up out of his $2.20 seat and carried him over to the center and put him down gently in the $3.30 section. - Printopics.
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