Those who read through the comments on my The Signmaker’s Circus post already know that old circus banners were an important part of that American Sign Museum event earlier this year. Others will have just learned that. Some thirty hand-painted banners from the 1940s and ’50s hung from the walls of the area set up for the celebration and added considerably to the event’s authentic circus feel. An event devoted entirely to those banners took place at the museum on a recent Tuesday.
I arrived at the November 1 event a few minutes early and, knowing where the banners were hanging, headed directly there. Along with a few others, I happily snapped photos of the eye-catching wall hangings until I heard applause coming from elsewhere in the museum. I can only assume that the applause was triggered by the introduction of museum founder Tod Swormstedt because when I reached the real event Tod was telling the story of the banners and The Signmaker’s Circus. The banners were hanging in an empty warehouse that also belonged to their owner. They weren’t really on display but had been hung “just because”. Tod saw them, immediately envisioned them at his museum’s upcoming anniversary party, and asked. Told that, yes, he could borrow them, Tod drove to the Boston area with a helper, rolled up the banners on an upper floor of the warehouse, carried them down a fire escape, and hauled them to Cincinnati. He had been fielding questions about them ever since but not tonight. Tonight he introduced the banners’ owner, David Waller.
David began by telling us that there was almost always some deception in the banners. He made his point with a photo of a woman who was certainly quite small but not nearly as small as depicted on the canvas that identified her as the “world’s smallest mother“. He then claimed that similar deception had occurred tonight. Most of us had been drawn to the event, he said, expecting to hear an expert on circus banners. Instead, we would hear from a mere collector of such banners. Maybe that was an attempt at real deception but few were fooled as David proceeded to prove himself an expert on the banners as well as their creators and subjects.
I guess the title of tonight’s event was a little deceptive but I’ve no doubt it was unintentional. Although promoted as “Under the Big Top: Circus Banners of the 1940s and 1950s”, the event concerned banners advertising sideshow attractions that rarely, if ever, appeared in a ring in the Big Top. Many were people with deformities that attracted the curious. Today that naturally leads to thoughts of exploitation, and no one doubts that was sometimes the case, but sideshows provided income to many who would have had a tough time otherwise. When exploitation was mentioned, Otis the Frog Boy, who owned a car modified so he could drive it, wondered if people would prefer he was on welfare. Sylvia, the Big Footed Girl, made a good living for many years although, unable to wear shoes, she balked at appearing in the cold north. Many sideshow performers padded their paychecks by selling postcards and other items. Part of the spiel about Johann Petursson, the Viking Giant, was that he wore rings the size of napkin rings. He sold copies of his rings as souvenirs. Sometime after one of these rings came into Waller’s possession, he met a buddy’s new girlfriend from Iceland. When the conversation turned to circuses, she told of having a giant for an uncle and produced a childhood picture of her sitting on Johann’s lap. Waller gave her the ring.
Clearly, many of these banners made preposterous claims and stretched truth to the max. Many of the attractions were complete fakes that used mirrors, trick lighting, and other gimmicks. It might be a little hard for some of us to believe that people were that gullible just a few decades ago but what may be even harder to believe concerns an attraction that was 100% real and involved no trickery whatsoever. Once upon a time, tattooed women were so rare that people paid money to see them. Betty Broadbent retired in 1967.
