Struggles amd Triumphs: or, Forty Years' Recollections of P.T. Barnum

I built a number of houses to let, in order to accommodate those who were unable to buy. I find this the most unpleasant part of my connection with the new city. The interest on the investment, the taxes, repairs, wear and tear, and insurance render tenant-houses the most unprofitable property to own; besides which the landlord is often looked upon by the tenants as an overbearing, grasping man and one whose property it is their highest duty to injure as much as possible; for all concerned therefore, it is much better that every person should somehow manage to own the roof he sleeps under. Men are more independent and feel happier who live in their own houses; they keep the premises in neater order, and they make better citizens. Hence I always encourage poor people to become householders if possible, for I find that oftentimes when they have lived long in one of my houses they think it very hard if the property is not given to them. They argue that the landlord is rich and would never feel the loss of one little place, not stopping to consider that the aggregate of a great many “little places” thus given away would make the landlord poor, – nor would the tenants be benefited so much by homes that were given to them as they would by homes that were the fruits of their own industry and economy.

The land in East Bridgeport was originally purchased by me at from $50 to $75, and from those sums to $300 per acre; and the average cost of all I bought on that side of the river was $200 per acre. Some portions of this land are now assessed in the Bridgeport tax-list at from $3,000 to $4,000 per acre. At the time I joined Mr. Noble in this enterprise, the site we purchased was not a part of the City of Bridgeport. It is now, however, a most important section of the city, and the three bridges connecting the two banks of the river, and originally chartered as toll-bridges, have been bought by the city and thrown open as free highways to the public. A horse railroad, in which I took one-tenth part of the stock, connects the two portions of the city, extending westerly beyond Iranistan and Lindencroft, while a branch road runs to the beautiful “Sea-side Park” on the Sound shore.

The eastern line of East Bridgeport, when I first purchased so large a portion of the property, was bounded by a long, narrow swale or valley of salt meadow, through which a small stream passed, and which was flooded with salt water at every tide. At considerable expense, I erected a dam at the foot of this meadow, and thus converted this heretofore filthy, repulsive, mosquito-inhabited and malaria-breeding marsh into a charming sheet of water, which is now known as Pembroke Lake. If this improvement had not been made, in all probability the eastern portion of my property would never have been devoted to dwelling houses; as it is, Barnum Street has been extended by means of a bridge across the lake, and the eastern shore is already studded with houses. The land on that side of the lake lies in the town of Stratford, and the growth of the new settlement promises to be as rapid as that of East Bridgeport.

General Noble, in laying out the first portion of our new city, named several streets after members of his own family, and also of mine. Hence, we have a “Noble” Street – and a noble street it is; a “Barnum” Street; while other streets are named “William,” from Mr. Noble; “Harriet,” the Christian name of Mrs. Noble; “Hallett,” the maiden name of my wife; and “Caroline,” “Helen,” and “Pauline,” the names of my three daughters. There is also the “Barnum School District” and school-house; so that it seems as if, for a few scores of years at least, posterity would know who were the founders of the new, flourishing and beautiful city. We have yet another enduring and ever-growing monument in the many thousands of trees which we set out and which now line and gratefully shade the streets of East Bridgeport.

Figures can scarcely give an appreciable idea of the rapid growth and material prosperity of this important portion of the City of Bridgeport; but the city records show that my first purchase of land on that side of the river was appraised in the Bridgeport assessment list, in October, 1851, at $36,000, while in July, 1859, the same real estate, with improvements, less the Washington Park, the Public School lot in Barnum District, the land for streets, and four church lots, was valued in the city assessment list at $1,200,000. When we bought the property there were but six old farm houses on the entire tract, when the centre bridge was built and opened. Now there are on the same land hundreds of dwelling-houses, some of them as fine as any in the State. Three handsome churches, Methodist, Episcopal and Congregational, front on the beautiful Washington Park of seven acres, which Mr. Noble and myself presented to the city, and which would be worth $100,000 to-day for building lots. This pleasant park is enclosed by a substantial iron fence, and contains a fine, natural grove of full-grown trees, while the surrounding streets are lined with charming residences, and, on one or more evenings in the week during the summer, the city band, or the Wheeler & Wilson band, plays in the Park for the amusement and benefit of the citizens of East Bridgeport.

Some of the largest and most prosperous manufactories in the United States are located in the new city. Among these are the Wheeler & Wilson Sewing Machine Manufactories, which cover four entire squares, with fire-proof buildings, are rapidly extending, and employ more than one thousand operators; the Howe Sewing Machine Factory is also an immense edifice, employing nearly the same number of men; Schuyler, Hartley, Graham & Company’s great cartridge and ammunition works, almost supply the armies of the world with the means of destruction; besides these, the Winchester Arms Manufactory for making the “twenty-shooter breech-loader”; a large brass manufactory; an immense hat manufactory; and Hotchkiss, Sons & Company’s Hardware Manufactory, are among the more prominent establishments, and other and like concerns are constantly adding. Indeed, at this time (1869) one-fourth of the population and three-fourths of the manufacturing capital and business of Bridgeport are located on the east side within limits which, in 1850, contained only six old farm houses.

The following details respecting the business of some of the largest establishments will give an idea of the manufacturing industries of East Bridgeport. The Wheeler and Wilson Manufacturing Company employ more than $4,000,000 in their business. Their employees number ten hundred, and they manufacture an average of three hundred sewing machines per day; the total number of machines manufactured up to July 1, 1869, is over four hundred thousand, and the factories cover six and one-half acres of ground. The Union Metallic Cartridge Company, Messrs. Schuyler, Hartley, Graham & Co., have a capital of $350,000, employ two hundred and fifty men, and manufacture cartridges and primers of Berdan’s patent military and sporting caps, and elastic gun waddings, at the rate of 1,000,000 cartridges, 720,000 primers, and 720,000 caps per week, and to July 1, 1869, they had manufactured 50,000,000 cartridges. The Bridgeport Brass Company employ two hundred men, have a capital of $150,000, and manufacture rolled brass wire and tubing, kerosene burners, lamp goods, corset steels, oil cans, etc., and roll and use in these goods 1,000,000 pounds of brass a year. The Winchester Arms Company have a capital of $450,000, employ three hundred men, and manufacture the Winchester rifle, cartridges and ammunition. The Howe Machine Company have a capital of $300,000, employ five hundred men, and manufacture sewing machines at the rate of one hundred and fifty per day. Messrs. Hotchkiss and Sons, with a capital of $162,500, and one hundred and twenty-five men, manufacture hardware, currycombs, game traps, and harness snaps to the amount of $20,000 per month. The Bridgeport Manufacturing Company, with fifty men, and a capital of $300,000, manufacture the American submerged pump. The Odorless Rubber Company, with fifty men, and $200,000 capital, manufacture soft rubber goods, hose, clothing, etc. The American Silver Steel Company, manufacture steel from the Mine Hill, Roxbury, Connecticut, Spathic ore, and employ two hundred and fifty men, and a capital of $500,000. Messrs. Glover Sanford and Sons, employ two hundred and fifty men, and manufacture two hundred and fifty dozen wool hats per day. The New York Tap and Die Company, with a capital of $150,000, and one hundred men, manufacture taps, dies, drills, bits, etc. These companies thus employ about six and one-half millions in capital, and nearly twenty-seven hundred men, and expend more than $2,000,000 a year in wages to the operatives.

In addition, there are several substantial brick blocks devoted to business; there are book stores, drug stores, dry goods stores, jewelry stores, boot and shoe shops and stores, tailoring and furnishing establishments, more than twenty grocery stores, six meat markets, three fish markets, coal, wood, lumber and brick yards, steam flouring mills, and a large brick hotel. The water and gas supplies are the same as those afforded on the other side of the river. It is quite within the bounds of probability that in the course of twenty years, the east side will contain the larger proportion of the inhabitants. A post-office and a railway station will soon be built on that side of the river. A new iron bridge is about to connect the two parts of the city, affording additional facilities for inter-communication. In 1868, March 2, a special committee of the Common Council reported the census of the City of Bridgeport as follows: First ward, 7,397; Second ward, 4,237; Third ward, East Bridgeport, 5,497; total, 17,131. In this enumeration, our new city contained nearly one-third of the entire population, and its increase since has been far more rapid than that of any other part of Bridgeport.

The entire City of Bridgeport is advancing in population and prosperity with a rapidity far beyond that of any other city in Connecticut, and everything indicates that it will soon take its proper position as the second, if not the first, city in the State. Its situation as the terminus of the Naugatuck and the Housatonic railways, its accessibility to New York, with its two daily steamboats to and from the metropolis, and its dozen daily trains of the New York and Boston and Shore Line railways, are all elements of prosperity which are rapidly telling in favor of this busy, beautiful and charming city.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

MORE ABOUT THE MUSEUM

ANOTHER RE-OPENING – A CHERRY-COLORED CAT – THE CAT LET OUT OF THE BAG – MY FIRST WHALING EXPEDITION – PLANS FOR CAPTURE – SUCCESS OF THE SCHEME – TRANSPORTING LIVING WHALES BY LAND – PUBLIC EXCITEMENT – THE GREAT TANK – SALT WATER PUMPED FROM THE BAY TO THE MUSEUM – MORE WHALES – EXPEDITION TO LABRADOR – THE FIRST HIPPOPOTAMUS IN AMERICA – TROPICAL FISH – COMMODORE NUTT AND HIS FIRST “ENGAGEMENT” – THE TWO DROMIOS – PRESIDENT LINCOLN SEES COMMODORE NUTT – WADING ASHORE – A QUESTION OF LEGS – SELF-DECEPTION – THE GOLDEN ANGEL FISH – ANNA SWAN, THE NOVA SCOTIA GIANTESS – THE TALLEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD – INDIAN CHIEFS – EXPEDITION TO CYPRUS – MY AGENT IN A PASHA’S HAREM.

ON the 13th of October, 1860, the American Museum was the scene of another re-opening, which was, in fact, the commencement of the fall dramatic season, the summer months having been devoted to pantomime. A grand flourish of trumpets in the way of newspaper advertisements and flaming posters drew a crowded house. Among other attractions, it was announced that Mr. Barnum would introduce a mysterious novelty never before seen in that establishment. I appeared upon the stage behind a small table, in front of which was nailed a white sack, on which was inscribed, in large letters, “The cat let out of the bag.” I then stated that, having spent two of the summer months in the country, leaving the Museum in charge of Mr. Greenwood, he had purchased a curiosity with which he was not satisfied; but, for my part, I thought he had received his money’s worth, and I proposed to exhibit it to the audience, for the purpose of getting their opinion on the subject. I stated that a farmer came in from the country, and said he had got a “cherry-colored cat” at home which he would like to sell; that Mr. Greenwood gave him a writing promising to pay him twenty-five dollars for such a cat delivered in good health, provided it was not artificially colored; and that the cat was then in the bag in front of the table, ready for exhibition. Whereupon, my assistant drew from the bag a common black cat, and I informed the audience that when the farmer brought his “cherry-colored cat,” he quietly remarked to Mr. Greenwood, that, of course, he meant “a cat of the color of black cherries.” The laughter that followed this narration was uproarious, and the audience unanimously voted that the “cherry-colored cat,” all things considered, was well worth twenty-five dollars. The cat, adorned with a collar bearing the inscription, “The Cherry-colored Cat,” was then placed in the cage of the “Happy Family,” and the story getting into the newspapers, it became another advertisement of the Museum.

In 1861, I learned that some fishermen at the mouth of the St. Lawrence had succeeded in capturing a living white whale, and I was also informed that a whale of this kind, if placed in a box lined with sea-weed and partially filled with salt water, could be transported by land to a considerable distance, and be kept alive. It was simply necessary that an attendant, supplied with a barrel of salt water and a sponge, should keep the mouth and blow-hole of the whale constantly moist. It seemed incredible that a living whale could be “expressed” by railroad on a five days’ journey, and although I knew nothing of the white whale or its habits, since I had never seen one, I determined to experiment in that direction. Landsman as I was, I believed that I was quite as competent as a St. Lawrence fisherman to superintend the capture and transportation of a live white whale.

When I had fully made up my mind to attempt the task, I made every provision for the expedition, and took precaution against every conceivable contingency. I determined upon the capture and transport to my Museum of at least two living whales, and prepared in the basement of the building a brick and cement tank, forty feet long, and eighteen feet wide, for the reception of the marine monsters. When this was done, taking two trusty assistants, I started upon my whaling expedition. Going by rail to Quebec, and thence by the Grand Trunk Railroad, ninety miles, to Wells River, where I chartered a sloop to Elbow Island (Isle au Coudres), in the St. Lawrence River, and found the place populated by Canadian French people of the most ignorant and dirty description. They were hospitable, but frightfully filthy, and they gained their livelihood by farming and fishing. Immense quantities of maple-sugar are made there, and in exploring about the island, we saw hundreds of birch-bark buckets suspended to the trees to catch the sap. After numerous consultations, extending over three whole days, with a party of twenty-four fishermen, whose gibberish was almost as untranslatable as it was unbearable, I succeeded in contracting for their services to capture for me, alive and unharmed, a couple of white whales, scores of which could at all times be discovered by their “spouting” within sight of the island. I was to pay these men a stipulated price per day for their labor, and if they secured the whales, they were to have a liberal bonus.

The plan decided upon was to plant in the river a “kraal,” composed of stakes driven down in the form of a V, leaving the broad end open for the whales to enter. This was done in a shallow place, with the point of the kraal towards shore; and if by chance one or more whales should enter the trap at high water, my fishermen were to occupy the entrance with their boats, and keep up a tremendous splashing and noise till the tide receded, when the frightened whales would find themselves nearly “high and dry,” or with too little water to enable them to swim, and their capture would be the next thing in order. This was to be effected by securing a slip-noose of stout rope over their tails, and towing them to the sea-weed lined boxes in which they were to be transported to New York.

All this was simple enough “on paper”; but several days elapsed before a single spout was seen inside the kraal, though scores of whales were constantly around and near it. In time, it became exceedingly aggravating to see the whales glide so near the trap without going into it, and our patience was sorely tried. One day a whale actually went into the kraal, and the fishermen proposed to capture it; but I wanted another, and while we waited for number two to go in, number one knowing the proverb, probably, and having an eye to his own interests, went out. Two days afterwards, I was awakened at daylight by a great noise, and amid the clamor of many voices, I caught the cheering news that two whales were even then within the kraal, and hastily dressing myself, I took a boat for the exciting scene. The real difficulty, which was to get the whales into the trap, was now over, and the details of capture and transportation could safely be left to my trusty assistants and the fishermen. What they were to do until the tide went out and thereafter was once more fully explained; and after depositing money enough to pay the bill, if the capture was successful, I started at once for Quebec. There I learned by telegraph that both whales had been caught, boxed, and put on board sloop for the nearest point where they could be transhipped in the cars. I had made every arrangement with the railway officials, and had engaged a special car for the precious and curious freight.

Elated as I was at the result of this novel enterprise, I had no idea of hiding my light under a bushel, and I immediately wrote a full account of the expedition, its intention, and its success, for publication in the Quebec and Montreal newspapers. I also prepared a large number of brief notices which I left at every station on the line, instructing telegraph operators to “take off” all “whaling messages” that passed over the wires to New York, and to inform their fellow townsmen at what hour the whales would pass through each place. The result of these arrangements may be imagined; at every station crowds of people came to the cars to see the whales which were travelling by land to Barnum’s Museum, and those who did not see the monsters with their own eyes, at least saw some one who had seen them, and I thus secured a tremendous advertisement, seven hundred miles long, for the American Museum.

When I arrived in New York, a dozen despatches had come from the “whaling expedition,” and they continued to come every few hours. These I bulletined in front of the Museum and sent copies to the papers. The excitement was intense, and, when at last, these marine monsters arrived and were swimming in the tank that had been prepared for them, anxious thousands literally rushed to see the strangest curiosities ever exhibited in New York.

Thus was my first whaling expedition a great success; but I did not know how to feed or to take care of the monsters, and, moreover, they were in fresh water, and this, with the bad air in the basement, may have hastened their death, which occurred a few days after their arrival, but not before thousands of people had seen them. Not at all discouraged, I resolved to try again. My plan now was to connect the water of New York bay with the basement of the Museum by means of iron pipes under the street, and a steam engine on the dock to pump the water. This I actually did at a cost of several thousand dollars, with an extra thousand to the aldermanic “ring” for the privilege, and I constructed another tank in the second floor of the building. This tank was built of slate and French glass plates six feet long, five feet broad, and one inch thick, imported expressly for the purpose, and the tank, when completed, was twenty-four feet square, and cost $4,000. It was kept constantly supplied with what would be called Hibernically, “fresh” salt water, and inside of it I soon had two white whales, caught, as the first had been, hundreds of miles below Quebec, to which city they were carried by a sailing vessel, and from thence were brought by railway to New York.

Of this whole enterprise, I confess I was very proud that I had originated it and brought it to such successful conclusion. It was a very great sensation, and it added thousands of dollars to my treasury. The whales, however, soon died – their sudden and immense popularity was too much for them – and I then despatched agents to the coast of Labrador, and not many weeks thereafter I had two more live whales disporting themselves in my monster aquarium. Certain envious people started the report that my whales were only porpoises, but this petty malice was turned to good account, for Professor Agassiz, of Harvard University, came to see them, and gave me a certificate that they were genuine white whales, and this indorsement I published far and wide.

The tank which I had built in the basement served for a yet more interesting exhibition. On the 12th of August, 1861, I began to exhibit the first and only genuine hippopotamus that had ever been seen in America, and for several weeks the Museum was thronged by the curious who came to see the monster. I advertised him extensively and ingeniously, as “the great behemoth of the Scriptures,” giving a full description of the animal and his habits, and thousands of cultivated people, biblical students, and others, were attracted to this novel exhibition. There was quite as much excitement in the city over this wonder in the animal creation as there was in London when the first hippopotamus was placed in the zoölogical collection in Regent’s Park.

Having a stream of salt water at my command at every high tide, I was enabled to make splendid additions to the beautiful aquarium, which I was the first to introduce into this country. I not only procured living sharks, porpoises, sea horses, and many rare fish from the sea in the vicinity of New York, but in the summer of 1861, I despatched a fishing smack and crew to the Island of Bermuda and its neighborhood, whence they brought scores of specimens of the beautiful “angel fish,” and numerous other tropical fish of brilliant colors and unique forms. These fish were a great attraction to all classes, and especially to naturalists and others, who commended me for serving the ends of science as well as amusement. But as cold weather approached, these tropical fish began to die, and before the following spring, they were all gone. I, therefore, replenished this portion of my aquaria during the summer, and for several summers in succession, by sending a special vessel to the Gulf for specimens. These operations were very expensive, but I really did not care for the cost, if I could only secure valuable attractions.

In the same year, I bought out the Aquarial Gardens in Boston, and soon after removed the collection to the Museum. I had now the finest assemblage of fresh as well as salt water fish ever exhibited, and with a standing offer of one hundred dollars for every living brook-trout, weighing four pounds or more, which might be brought to me, I soon had three or four of these beauties, which trout-fishermen from all parts of the country came to New York to see. But the trout department of my Museum required so much care, and was attended with such constant risks, that I finally gave it up.

In December, 1861, I made one of my most “palpable hits.” I was visited at the Museum by a most remarkable dwarf, who was a sharp, intelligent little fellow, with a deal of drollery and wit. He had a splendid head, was perfectly formed, was very attractive, and, in short, for a “showman,” he was a perfect treasure. His name, he told me, was George Washington Morrison Nutt, and his father was Major Rodnia Nutt, a substantial farmer, of Manchester, New Hampshire. I was not long in despatching an efficient agent to Manchester, and in overcoming the competition with other showmen who were equally eager to secure this extraordinary pigmy. The terms upon which I engaged him for three years were so large that he was christened the $30,000 Nutt; I, in the mean time, conferring upon him the title of Commodore. As soon as I engaged him, placards, posters and the columns of the newspapers proclaimed the presence of “Commodore Nutt,” at the Museum. I also procured for the Commodore a pair of Shetland ponies, miniature coachman and footman, in livery, gold-mounted harness and an elegant little carriage, which, when closed, represented a gigantic English walnut. The little Commodore attracted great attention and grew rapidly in public favor. General Tom Thumb was then travelling in the South and West. For some years he had not been exhibited in New York, and during these years he had increased considerably in rotundity and had changed much in his general appearance. It was a singular fact, however, that Commodore Nutt was almost a fac-simile of General Tom Thumb, as he looked half-a-dozen years before. Consequently, very many of my patrons, not making allowance for the time which had elapsed since they had last seen the General, declared that I was trying to play “Mrs. Gamp” with my “Mrs. Harris”; that there was, in fact, no such person as “Commodore Nutt”; and that I was exhibiting my old friend Tom Thumb under a new name. The mistake was very natural, and to me it was very laughable, for the more I tried to convince people of their error, the more they winked and looked wise, and said, “It’s pretty well done, but you can’t take me in.”