The Life of Phineas T. Barnum Part 6

"Nothing could have pleased me better," says Barnum. "He then asked me what security I could offer in case he concluded to make the purchase for me, and it was finally agreed that, if he should do so, he should retain the property till it was entirely paid for, and should also appoint a ticket-taker and accountant (at my expense), who should render him a weekly statement. I was further to take an apartment hitherto used as a billiard-room in his adjoining building, allowing therefor $500 a year, making a total rental of $3,000 per annum, on a lease of ten years. He then told me to see the administrator and heirs of the estate, to get their best terms, and to meet him on his return to town a week from that time.

"I at once saw Mr. John Heath, the administrator, and his price was $15,000. I offered $10,000, payable in seven annual installments, with good security. After several interviews, it was finally agreed that I should have it for $12,000, payable as above --possession to be given on the 15th of November. Mr.

Olmsted a.s.sented to this, and a morning was appointed to draw and sign the writings. Mr. Heath appeared, but said he must decline proceeding any further in my case, as he had sold the collection to the directors of Peale's Museum (an incorporated inst.i.tution) for $15,000, and had received $1,000 in advance.

"I was shocked, and appealed to Mr. Heath's honor. He said that he had signed no writing with me; was in no way legally bound, and that it was his duty to do the best he could for the heirs.

Mr. Olmsted was sorry but could not help me; the new tenants would not require him to incur any risk, and my matter was at an end.

"Of course I immediately informed myself as to the character of Peale's Museum Company. It proved to be a band of speculators who had bought Peale's collection for a few thousand dollars, expecting to unite the American Museum with it, issue and sell stock to the amount of $50,000, pocket $30,000 profits, and permit the stockholders to look out for themselves.

"I went immediately to several of the editors, including Major M.

M. Noah, M. Y. Beach, my good friends West, Herrick, and Ropes, of the Atlas, and others, and stated my grievances. 'Now,' said I, 'if you will grant me the use of your columns, I'll blow that speculation sky-high.' They all consented, and I wrote a large number of squibs, cautioning the public against buying the Museum stock, ridiculing the idea of a board of broken-down bank directors engaging in the exhibition of stuffed monkeys and gander-skins; appealing to the case of the Zoological Inst.i.tute, which had failed by adopting such a plan as the one now proposed; and finally, I told the public that such a speculation would be infinitely more ridiculous than d.i.c.kens's 'Grand United Metropolitan Hot m.u.f.fin and Crumpit-baking and Punctual Delivery Company.'

"The stock was 'as dead as a herring!' I then went to Mr. Heath and asked him when the directors were to pay the other $14,000.'

On the 26th day of December, or forfeit the $1,000 already paid,'

was the reply. I a.s.sured him that they would never pay it, that they could not raise it, and that he would ultimately find himself with the Museum collection on his hands, and if once I started off with an exhibition for the South, I could not touch the Museum at ANY price. 'Now,' said I, 'if you will agree with me confidentially, that in case these gentlemen do not pay you on the 26th of December I may have it on the 27th for $12,000, I will run the risk, and wait in this city until that date.' He readily agreed to the proposition, but said he was sure they would not forfeit their $1,000.

" 'Very well,' said I; 'all I ask of you is, that this arrangement shall not be mentioned.' He a.s.sented. 'On the 27th day of December, at ten o'clock A. M., I wish you to meet me in Mr. Olmsted's apartments, prepared to sign the writings, provided this incorporated company do not pay you $14,000 on the 26th. He agreed to this, and by my request put it in writing.

"From that moment I felt that the Museum was mine. I saw Mr.

Olmsted, and told him so. He promised secrecy, and agreed to sign the doc.u.ment if the other parties did not meet their engagement.

This was about November 15th, and I continued my shower of newspaper squibs at the new company, which could not sell a dollar's worth of its stock. Meanwhile, if any one spoke to me about the Museum, I simply replied that I had lost it."

This newspaper war against the Peales was kept up unceasingly until one morning in December, "I received a letter from the secretary of that company (now calling itself the 'New York Museum Company'), requesting me to meet the directors at the Museum on the following Monday morning. I went, and found the directors in session. The venerable president of the board, who was also the ex-president of a broken bank, blandly proposed to hire me to manage the united museums, and though I saw that he merely meant to buy my silence, I professed to entertain the proposition, and in reply to an inquiry as to what salary I should expect, I specified the sum of $3,000 a year. This was at once acceded to, the salary to begin January 1st, 1842, and after complimenting me on my ability, the president remarked: 'Of course, Mr. Barnum, we shall have no more of your squibs through the newspapers.' To which I replied that I should 'ever try to serve the interests of my employers,' and I took my leave.

"It was as clear to me as noonday that, after buying my silence so as to appreciate their stock, these directors meant to sell out to whom they could, leaving me to look to future stockholders for my salary. They thought, no doubt, that they had nicely entrapped me, but I knew I had caught them.

"For, supposing me to be out of the way, and having no other rival purchaser, these directors postponed the advertis.e.m.e.nt of their stock to give people time to forget the attacks I had made on it, and they also took their own time for paying the money promised to Mr Heath, December 26th--indeed, they did not even call on him at the appointed time. But on the following morning, as agreed, I was promptly and hopefully at Mr. Olmsted's apartments with my legal adviser, at half-past nine o'clock; Mr.

Heath came with his lawyer at ten, and before two o'clock that day I was in formal possession of the American Museum. My first managerial act was to write and dispatch the following complimentary note:

" 'AMERICAN MUSEUM, NEW YORK, Dec. 27th, 1841.

" 'To the President and Directors of the New York Museum:

" 'GENTLEMEN: It gives me great pleasure to inform you that you are placed upon the Free List of this establishment until furthur notice.

" 'P. T. BARNUM, Proprietor.'

"It is unnecessary to say that the 'President of the New York Museum' was astounded, and when he called upon Mr. Heath, and learned that I had bought and was really in possession of the American Museum, he was indignant. He talked of prosecution, and demanded the $1,000 paid on his agreement, but he did not prosecute, and he justly forfeited his deposit money."

CHAPTER VIII. THE AMERICAN MUSEUM.

ADVERTISING EXTRAORDINARY--A QUICK-WITTED PERFORMER--NIAGARA FALLS WITH REAL WATER--OTHER ATTRACTIONS--DRUMMOND LIGHTS.

With great hopes for the success of his project, Barnum entered upon the management of the Museum. It was a new epoch in his career, he felt that the opportunity of his life had presented itself--in the show business, to be sure, but in a permanent, substantial phase of it.

He must pay for the establishment within the stipulated time, or forfeit all he had paid on account. A rigid plan of economy was determined upon, his wife agreeing to support the family on $600 a year, or even on four hundred if necessary. Barnum himself made every possible personal retrenchment. One day, some six months after the purchase had been made, Mr. Olmsted happened into the ticket office, while the proprietor was eating his lunch of cold corned beef and bread.

"Is that all you eat for dinner?" asked Mr. Olmsted.

"I have not eaten a warm dinner, except on Sundays, since I bought the Museum," was the reply, "and I don't intend to, until I am out of debt."

"That's right," said Mr. Olmsted, heartily, "and you'll pay for the Museum before the year is out."

And he was right.

The nucleus of this establishment, Scudder's Museum, was formed in 1810. It was begun in Chatham Street, and was afterward transferred to the old City Hall, and from small beginnings, by purchases, and to a considerable degree by presents, it had grown to be a large and valuable collection. People in all parts of the country had sent in relics and rare curiosities. Sea captains for years had brought and deposited strange things from foreign lands; and besides all these gifts, the previous proprietor had actually expended, as was stated, $50,000 in making the collection, which valuable as it was when Barnum bought it, was only the beginning of its subsequent greatness. In 1842 the entire contents of Peale's Museum was purchased, and in 1850 the Peale collection of Philadelphia was added. In 1865 the s.p.a.ce occupied for museum purposes was more than twice as large as in 1842. The Lecture Room, originally narrow, ill-contrived, and inconvenient, was so enlarged and improved that it became one of the most commodious and beautiful amus.e.m.e.nt halls in the city of New York. At first the attractions and inducements were merely the collection of curiosities by day, and an evening entertainment, consisting of such variety performances as were current in ordinary shows. Then Sat.u.r.day afternoons and, soon afterward, Wednesday afternoons, were devoted to entertainments, and the popularity of the Museum grew so rapidly that it was presently found expedient and profitable to open the great Lecture Room every afternoon, as well as every evening, on every weekday in the year. The first experiments in this direction more than justified expectations, for the day exhibitions were always more thronged than those of the evening.

Holidays, of course, were made the most of, and there is a record of twelve performances, to as many audiences, being given in one day.

By degrees the character of the stage performances were changed.

The transient attractions of the Museum were constantly diversified, and educated dogs, industrious fleas, automatons, jugglers, ventriloquists, living statuary, tableaux, gypsies, Albinoes, fat boys, giants, dwarfs, rope-dancers, live "Yankees,"

pantomime, instrumental music, singing and dancing in great variety, dioramas, panoramas, models of Niagara, Dublin, Paris, and Jerusalem; Hannington's dioramas of the Creation, the Deluge, Fairy Grotto, Storm at Sea; the first English Punch and Judy in this country, Italian Fantoceini, mechanical figures, fancy gla.s.s-blowing, knitting machines, and other triumphs in the mechanical arts; dissolving views, American Indians, who enacted their warlike and religious ceremonies on the stage--these, among others, were all exceedingly successful.

No man ever understood the art of advertising better than Barnum.

Knowing that mammon is ever caught with glare, he took pains that his posters should be larger, his transparencies more brilliant, his puffing more persistent than anybody elses. And if he resorted to hyperbole at times in his advertis.e.m.e.nts, it was always his boast that no one ever went away from his Museum, without having received the worth of his money. It used to amuse Mr. Barnum later in life, to relate some of the unique advertising dodges which his inventive genius devised. Here is a fair sample, as he once told it:

"One morning a stout, hearty-looking man came into my ticket-office and begged some money. I asked him why he did not work and earn his living? He replied that he could get nothing to do, and that he would be glad of any job at a dollar a day. I handed him a quarter of a dollar, told him to go and get his breakfast and return, and I would employ him, at light labor, at a dollar and a half a day. When he returned I gave him five common bricks.

" 'Now,' said I, 'go and lay a brick on the sidewalk, at the corner of Broadway and Ann Street; another close by the Museum; a third diagonally across the way, at the corner of Broadway and Vesey Street, by the Astor House; put down the fourth on the sidewalk, in front of St. Paul's Church opposite; then, with the fifth brick in hand, take up a rapid march from one point to the other, making the circuit, exchanging your brick at every point, and say nothing to any one.'

" 'What is the object of this?' inquired the man.

" 'No matter,' I replied: 'all you need to know is that it brings you fifteen cents wages per hour. It is a bit of my fun, and to a.s.sist me properly you must seem to be as deaf as a post; wear a serious countenance; answer no questions; pay no attention to any one; but attend faithfully to the work, and at the end of every hour, by St. Paul's clock, show this ticket at the Museum door; enter, walking solemnly through every hall in the building; pa.s.s out, and resume your work.' "

With the remark that "it was all one to him, so long as he could earn his living," the man placed his bricks, and began his round.

Half an hour afterward, at least five hundred people were watching his mysterious movements. He had a.s.sumed a military step and bearing, and, looking as sober as a judge, he made no response whatever to the constant inquiries as to the object of his singular conduct. At the end of the first hour, the sidewalks in the vicinity were packed with people, all anxious to solve the mystery. The man, as directed, then went into the Museum, devoting fifteen minutes to a solemn survey of the halls, and afterward returning to his round. This was repeated every hour until sundown, and whenever the man went into the Museum a dozen or more persons would buy tickets and follow him, hoping to gratify their curiosity in regard to the purpose of his movements. This was continued for several days--the curious people who followed the man into the Museum considerably more than paying his wages--till finally the policeman, to whom Barnum had imparted his object, complained that the obstruction of the sidewalk by crowds, had become so serious that he must call in his "brick man." This trivial incident excited considerable talk and amus.e.m.e.nt; it advertised Barnum; and it materially advanced his purpose of making a lively corner near the Museum.

Barnum realized above all that to have people pleased with his attractions was the best advertis.e.m.e.nt he could possibly have, and he tried honestly to keep the Museum supplied with every novelty. A curiosity which possessed some merit, and considerable absurdity was the celebrated model of Niagara, "with real water."

One day the enterprising proprietor was called before the Board of Water Commissioners, and informed that he must pay a large extra compensation for the immense amount of water that supplied his Niagara. To the astonishment of the Board Mr. Barnum gave his a.s.surance that a single barrel of water per month served to run the machine.

Apropos of this wonderful model, Barnum used to tell how he got even with his friend, Louis g.a.y.l.o.r.d Clark, editor of the Knickerbocker, an inveterate joker, and who was fond of guying the Museum. The first time Clark viewed "Niagara" he a.s.sumed great admiration.

"Well, Barnum, I declare, this is quite an idea; I never saw the like of this before in all my life."

"No?" inquired Barnum, quite pleased.

"No," said Clark, fervently, "and I hope to the Lord, I never will."

Barnum might have forgiven this, but Clark's next joke was too much to bear. He came in one day and asked Barnum if he had the club with which Captain Cook was killed. The Museum boasted a large collection of Indian curiosities, and Barnum showed one warlike weapon which he a.s.sured Clark was the identical club and he had all the doc.u.ments to prove it.

"Poor Cook! Poor Cook!" said Clark, musingly. "Well, Mr. Barnum,"

he continued, with great gravity, at the same time extending his hand, "I am really very much obliged to you for your kindness. I had an irrepressible desire to see the club that killed Captain Cook, and I felt quite confident you could accommodate me. I have been in half a dozen smaller museums, and as they all had it, I was sure a large establishment like yours would not be without it."

But Barnum's turn came. A few weeks afterward, he wrote to Clark that if he would come to his office he was anxious to consult him on a matter of great importance. He came, and Barnum said:

"Now, I don't want any of your nonsense, but I want your sober advice."