1875: Barnum’s Hippodrome

The distinctive Four Courts building was St. Louis’s early center of civic justice. It appears in the Compton and Dry Pictorial map from 1875. The map also displays what looks like a circus tent across the street. Camile Dry drew in many quirky but accurate observations. Knowing this, I set out to discover what was in town there. That brought me into the world of P. T. Barnum and his great traveling Hippodrome. 

‘Hippodrome’ is a Greek mashup, meaning “horse course.” It related to a circus, like the Circus Maximus in Rome, where the race from Ben Hur was held. Hippodromes were built for chariot races. They consisted of two long straightaways, punctuated by two tight 180 degree turns. This is where chariots, drivers and horses often piled up. It made for high entertainment back in the third century.  

A showman steps onto the stage

Showmanship was Barnum’s true vocation. He began with a variety troupe called Barnum’s Grand Scientific and Musical Theater. It coincided with his early move to New York City in 1834. In 1841, he opened a theater in the old Scudder’s American Museum, on lower Broadway. It staged acts involving giants, jugglers, magicians, exotic women, and a zoo’s worth of animals. The showman also launched hot-air balloon rides from the roof daily. 

He promoted his fair share of hoaxes and hokum. Barnum introduced the “Feejee” mermaid, tiny person Tom Thumb, and Native American dancer Fu-Hum-Me. While on tour he acquired other collections, and the museum became a must-see in New York. By 1846, his enterprise drew 400,000 visitors yearly.  

Morality for the curious

Barnum then built the largest theater in town; the Moral Lecture Room. This was his attempt to promote sobriety while improving the public’s attitude toward theaters. From European traveling minstrel and gypsy shows, the stage was associated with iniquity. Barnum opened with “The Drunkard,” a temperance lecture disguised as a play. 

Barnum featured melodramas and farces with well-regarded actors. He also sponsored baby, beauty, poultry and flower contests. The healthy business for these taught him that competition among worthy opponents would reliably draw a crowd. 

Barnum also began investing heavily in the development of East Bridgeport, Connecticut, but the effort, combined with litigation costs, bankrupted him. He then embarked upon a temperance lecture tour, somehow talking himself out of debt by 1860.

His financial recovery allowed him to resume operation of the museum. Perpetually additive, Barnum went on to build America’s first aquarium and a large wax museum. His collections expanded to four buildings, and totaled 850,000 items of interest. 

Barnum’s American Museum became a permanent stage home for “The Drunkard,” along with some sensational attractions to beckon the curious. Among them were a four year old drummer, “a mammoth fat infant, three years old and weighing 105 pounds,” two sacred white peacocks, 300 living species of birds, the tallest giantess in the world, a company of dwarfs, glass-blowers, living serpents, and a three-horned bull. Admission was 30 cents; half that for children under 10.

Barnum in transition

Barnum’s American Museum burned to the ground in mid-1865, and a second iteration also burned three years later. Over its 24 year run, 30 million customers paid the 25 cents to enjoy a flea circus, oyster bar, rifle range, whale tank, trained bears and waxworks. Having suffered enough destruction, Barnum called it quits with the museum business.

When New York City constructed the new Grand Central Station at 42nd Street in 1874, Barnum leased its earlier depot on Madison Avenue. He converted it to a huge roofless oval arena with bench seating. This became his Great Roman Hippodrome, where the maestro presented circuses and other performances.

At the age of 60, Barnum began a “Grand Traveling Museum, Menagerie, Caravan and Hippodrome.” By this time, he was one of the most famous people in the United States. The show premiered in Delavan, Wisconsin. W.C. Coup managed operations for touring. Barnum and Coup created various iterations of this show, which complimented his fixed New York City operation.  

A Hippodrome program from 1874 describes a number of attractions. Following a great parade of nations was Hercule, the world’s strongest man. Hercule concluded his performance by lifting two horses while hanging by his feet from a trapeze. Romans raced while standing on their horses, other riders raced ostriches, and ladies engaged in a chariot race. Elephants trotted, and gymnasts performed on trapeze. Four ladies raced horses over hurdles and ten monkeys raced on Shetland ponies. Other acts featured Native Americans, acrobats, and anatomical freaks.

The grand show employed 700 men and 300 women. Men like Coup, with decades of experience, managed operations. The coordination of so many elements into a tightly choreographed production dazzled a reporter from the New York Sun: 

“Like a kaleidoscope, the jumble of seemingly random elements resolved into perfect form. It soon became apparent that every man and horse knew his exact place in parade. “

“Turks, Arabs and brahmins, cardinals, acolytes, emperors, Chinese, Russians, Egyptians and Spaniards.” The place was thick with horses, and one had to crawl under, over and around them to get anywhere.

That this went on daily in lower Manhattan now seems pretty miraculous. It proved both profitable and a subject for the nationwide press, further burnishing Barnum’s reputation as a non-pareil showman. 

A Hippodrome hits the road

Always alert to opportunities for a better spectacle, Barnum must have noticed a newly evolving phenomenon. The St. Louis Republican of April 15,1875 reported that another hippodrome, begun “a year or two” earlier in Chicago, had moved out onto the road.

A group in Cincinnati responded by dispatching something much bigger and better organized. This was “the International Hippodrome, Menagerie and Congress of all Nations.” A consortium called America’s Racing Association ran the event; a mixture of Olympian games, old Roman coliseum and modern world’s fair. The St. Louis Republican announced a local appearance, setting up adjacent to Schnaider’s Garden at the corner of Chouteau and Second Carondelet (today’s 18th Street.)  

The ad promised Roman chariot races, hurdle races, steeple chases, jockey races, and others involving elephants and camels. “Lilliputian pony races with child riders” and trotting races on the 400 foot long 200 foot wide race track. The first race was open to anyone who wished to ‘pony up’ their horse for a half mile race. It offered a $100 purse and a silver goblet valued at $30. 

In addition, the Hippodrome featured a zoo,“with wild animals, birds and reptiles of every description.”

The Republican of April 20th reported on day one of this enterprise. It didn’t just rain; “the wrath of Jupiter Pluvius was kindled and the rain fell in torrents.” An immense canvas covered two vacant blocks, and housed a quarter mlle track. “A good band labored incessantly to keep a state of harmony within the pavilion.” Once everyone took their seats, the rain started in earnest. “It speedily found its way through the canvas, falling in a fine mist on the shivering assemblage beneath. The tenting sagged where the water soaked through in streams, and the ground became a sheet of mud. “

But, of course, the show went on, with a great number of horses and fancy costumes. 

The first race involved chariots piloted by women, “driving most recklessly, while plenty of mud splashed over the gaudy garb of the drivers.” 

This opener led into a heel and toe walking race between a man and an elephant. The human wisely took the inside of the track, and assumed an early lead. With the man about four feet in the lead at the tape, the elephant “extended his proboscis and claimed a dead heat.” 

Between the various races were trapeze and tumbling acts. These made the event a spectacle in which something interesting was always happening. 

Three days later, the Post-Dispatch weighed in with a review. It cited “an immense crowd at each performance, with everyone going away well pleased with the entertainment.”

Barnum rises to the challenge

Never outdone, Barnum took his own Great Roman Hippodrome on the road in the summer of 1875. This was amid great hullabaloo in the press. Of course, the breathless descriptions were mostly those of Barnum himself, but he could out-whistle anyone for attention. 

“Capitalized for $1,000,000, and chartered by the Connecticut Legislature.” The stated purpose of the Hippodrome was, “to satisfy the long ambition and object of Barnum’s life: to elevate, purify and refine the character of public entertainment, blending instruction with amusement and promoting Object Teaching.”

P.T. Barnum saw an opportunity to redefine the American tent show. These were often tawdry affairs, more like carnivals. Barnum posited the Hippodrome show as a respectable place for family entertainment and education. He paid a fair wage for courteous and dependable employees. The impresario designed crowd pleasing and competitive spectacles that created their own momentum in the press. By emphasizing the pure as snow nature of his production, he also created a distinction from his competitors. They could only be considered cheesy or lewd by comparison.

Much of Barnum’s success lay in his singular, over the top advertising.

“An amphitheater holding 15,000 people, the largest seating capacity in the world, under acres of canvas, with a ⅕ mile racetrack for hundreds of thoroughbred imported horses, gilt and gold  bespectacled chariots and tableau cars in a grand succession of intellectual surprise, equivalent to sitting in full view of the Great Courts of the whole world.” 

And then, in a paragraph all its own:

“PROF. W.H. DONALDSON, the distinguished Aeronaut, will make gratuitous ascensions in the air-ship P.T. BARNUM. For this single season, Barnum contracted the world-renowned Donaldson for $20,000.”

General admission was $0.50, but free with purchase of The Life Of P.T. Barnum, in its latest edition of over 1,000 pages and 50 full page illustrations, reduced in price to $1.50.

Barnum reminded the reader that the Roman Hippodrome was no run of the mill circus. “Every objectionable feature is removed, so that the clergy and moral classes can safely attend without fear of being annoyed by coarse jests, immodest apparel and repulsive displays.”

The Hippodrome was gigantic; 686 feet long and 300 feet wide. 463 performers and 368 performing horses, all transported by 90 rail cars. 

Barnum’s Hippodrome in St. Louis

The first exhibition of P.T. Barnum’s Great Roman Hippodrome in St. Louis began on the afternoon of July 19,1875, and remained through that Saturday night .

Things kicked off with a street parade of the musical band, and jockeys on horseback. The much larger parade of the “Congress of Nations, with its elegant gilded chariots and gorgeous court scenes and paraphernalia,” would only appear in the vast amphitheater.

The St. Louis appearance was one of 29 that occurred between July 26 and August 28. Erecting and disassembling, then packing and moving such a show by rail every day still boggles the mind. It was barnstorming on a gargantuan scale, and missed few towns of any size. Through Iowa alone, it made single day appearances in Keokuk, Burlington, Ottawa, Oskaloosa, Des Moines, Iowa City and Davenport. The St. Louis show immediately followed a Chicago engagement. 

Special trains ran excursion rates into town for “Barnum’s Great Canvas City.” The grand finale was to be “Professor Donaldson’s grand ascensions, with representatives of the press, in the great air ship ‘Barnum.” 

Phineas T. Barnum was a master of the grandiloquent, and his advertising is something to behold:

“Resplendent with all pomp and glory of Caesar’s era. Incurring stupendous cost, and without parallel in any age. It has elicited hundreds of voluntary commendations from the religious and secular press of New York, Boston, Philadelphia. Also the plaudits of nearly 10,000,000 satisfied auditors in the last year. They all agree such success was never before achieved on the face of the globe.” 

Creating a sense of urgency, he added a caveat. “Thousands of people (have been) turned away from the doors at almost every exhibition, unable to obtain admission. No other entertainment of its magnitude will ever again be seen in this generation.” 

How, really, could you tell your 12 year old child that this wasn’t worth 50 cents? 

Barnum was offering the best and most exotic show in the world. 

And the climax to all this foofaraw: 

“Professor W.H. Donaldson, distinguished Aeronaut, will make gratuitous ascensions in the airship P.T. Barnum. For this season’s experiments, Mr. Barnum pays this renowned aeronaut 

$20,000, whose cloud land voyages have made him world-famous. This is not a common hot-air bag balloon, but a genuine gas air-ship, carrying a real weight of ten or twelve people, equivalent to 3,000 pounds.” 

The show, as advertised, employed 1,500 men, women and children. It was a sizable number to gather on the fly. A want ad from the Globe-Democrat of July 18 cast a net for aspiring young ladies:

Barnum’s ad in the July 17 Globe featured 29 extravagant claims. If any of them could be successfully contradicted, he would pay out $5,000. For example:

$5,000 That we have more performers than any five shows combined in America.

That our tent is larger than any before erected in the world.

That I pay my band more money than the entire ring performance of any tent show in America.

That I am the only man who ever gave with a traveling show, each day, where sufficient gas can be procured, a genuine gas balloon ascension, the celebrated W. H. Donaldson. The most daring aeronaut that ever lived is engaged for that purpose at a salary equal to the expense of the entire circus troupe. 

Ah, yes; the balloon ascension. It was a time of infatuation with the possibilities of air travel. Donaldson was the flag bearer for the daredevil nature of the aeronaut. He would soar thousands of feet above the earth, often with guests, then return to tell the tale.  

Opening Day

The long awaited opening day brought another “pouring and incessant rain.” Both procession and balloon ascension cancelled for the day. Despite this, a “remarkably fine audience attended the exhibition.” The scale of the production amazed a local reporter. The pavilion had out- tents for dressing, kitchens, stables, side-shows, and refreshments. There was reserved chairs for 4,000 and another 11,000 bench seats. He reviewed the show as “varied, rapid, startling and sometimes thrilling.”

The acts were a “continually moving panorama; the eye continually entertained with something new, in the shape of a surprise. Japanese balancing, five ladies racing on thoroughbreds, monkey carriages, a stag hunt, ladies chariot race, Mme. D’Atalie, the female Samson; Indian life, concluding with a chase for a wife; buffalo hunt; snowshoe race; Indian race against a horse; elephant and camel race; race by monkeys on ponies; hurdle race by ladies; chariot race,” and more. The trapeze work going on overhead accentuated the competitions below.  

It would be difficult to find more fulsome praise than came from the paper. “No one could come away from any one of the exhibitions with a shade of disappointment lurking anywhere in his or her consciousness.”

An odd substitution – the paper promised a balloon ascension by Mr. Thomas at the close of the next day’s matinee. No aeronaut, he was press agent for the Hippodrome. This may have come as news to the poor press agent, being pressed into service as a daredevil aeronaut. What about the vaunted W.H. Donaldson? Why the sudden substitution of someone who couldn’t be hyped beyond his ability to write copy for Barnum? More on this in the next essay.

Day Two

The next day again dawned overcast with showers on the huge lot at Franklin and Page Avenues. The Post-Dispatch noted that it “draws all the people who can get to it, and the numbers are large, in spite of all disadvantages.” The Post agreed with the Republican, stating, “it is more than a success; it is undoubtedly the greatest and most perfect exhibition ever seen. The visitor seems to be transported to fairy land, and the kaleidoscopic scenes keep up the illusion until the close of the performance.”

Day Three

The weather finally cleared on the 21st. Again having a wonderful time, the Republican rhapsodized on the singular nature of the experience. “Probably nobody else could have done it; certainly nobody else has, and it is very doubtful whether we shall ever see the like of P.T. Barnum’s greatest effort in the show business again.” It singled out the novelty of “Indian Life” for special praise: “undoubtedly the best act, in fine spirit, and the ‘Chase For a Wife’ is its most spirited passage. It illustrates Indian camp life, hunting scenes, battle scenes, amusements and social pastimes.” This, in an age where the West was rapidly settling. In fact, St. Louis had long turned from a Western to an Eastern metropolis. Native American life largely arose from tales of the aged, and dime novels. Bringing it to life would have satisfied a deep curiosity in young St. Louisans. 

At the close of the performance, Mr. D.W. Thomas, Barnum’s press agent, stepped into the balloon tied in a lot outside the main tent. He cut loose and sailed away to the east. “The vast crowd stood gazing with wondering eyes until the balloon, no bigger than a bubble in the sky, plunged into a mass of clouds hanging over the Illinois bluffs and disappeared.” This was only the second ascension ever for Mr. Thomas, rushed into service after the unaccounted for absence by Donaldson. He had gone up with Donaldson many times, and knew the ropes by observation. Thomas wisely turned down requests by the press to join him, and landed again safely, in a Belleville farmer’s field, after an hour’s flight. 

Meanwhile, another famous balloonist, Samuel A. King, was on his way from Cleveland to fill in on subsequent balloon ascensions. His huge airship could accommodate half a dozen passengers. 

The Globe-Democrat of the same day, took time to publicly express its admiration for the “great moral show” Barnum conducted. “A man, no matter what his position, who drinks, swears, or breaks any of the rules, has to pick up his traps and depart. And the woman that forgets that nature intended her for a lady has to do the same thing.” It also praised the apparent fairness of competition in the staged races as, “an honest, and therefore interesting struggle for supremacy.” 

Day Four

The Republican reported the weather of July 22nd as misty and the ground muddy from heavy rain the night before. An opening procession again cancelled, but both exhibitions were “fully attended.” The evening performance was, “one uninterrupted delight to the thousands who witnessed it.” A new feature was the Amazon’s march, as produced in New York. “One hundred ladies went through its beautiful evolutions, and that number was doubled for the remaining shows.”

General William T. Sherman and family enjoyed a place of honor in a private box. As he took a tour of the place, Sherman pronounced himself, “delighted with all he saw. His old experiences on the plains enabled him to vouch for the truthful detail of the scenes of Indian life as presented.” 

The march of the Amazons was a glittering crowd pleaser, and the “great Indian scene, with the race for a bride, was admirably performed and elicited hearty applause.” 

The Globe of July 25 bemoaned that, “the great Barnum has come and gone.” The immense tent folded up at the conclusion of Saturday night’s show, and moved on to Jacksonville, Illinois. The paper marveled at the way the deconstruction began, even as the last scene of the show was unfolding. By the time the audience reached the exits, the bleachers were being torn apart, and at the sound of a whistle, the whole canvas descended, “heaving like sea billows.” The monster canopy was divided into sections, rolled up and loaded onto carriages by 150 men. No sign of the great hippodrome was left within twenty minutes of the show’s close. 

Guess who’s back in town

Due to the outstanding reception Barnum received in St. Louis, the Hippodrome returned in September, at the conclusion of its scheduled roadshow. This time it set up below the Four Courts, between Spruce and Poplar from Eighth to Eleventh Streets for a three day engagement September 13-15. This was the site Camile Dry sketched for the pictorial map; historically accurate, as usual.    

Barnum made reference to the experience of the Hippodrome in Kansas City. There, the Times of September 11 lauded the “highly moral and instructive entertainment such as only P.T. Barnum can get up.” The paper lauded its “respectable performance,” and noted the presence of “ministers, professors, doctors and lawyers, bankers and businessmen, merchants and in fact, such audiences as crowd the opera house on the best occasions.” It then regretted that there was but one Barnum, as the world would benefit from more like him. 

Barnum’s Hippodrome had various adventures on its rounds through the Midwest since appearing in the Mound City. Rains beat down upon it, floods threatened to swamp it. It occasionally had to construct its rail tracks or bridges for transport. However, as the paper observed, “it never got stuck in the mud.” For all that, it went on without any sign of wear, elaborate and precise as ever, “regular as clock work.” This is a real, but largely unacknowledged part of Barnum’s genius. He was rarely caught off guard by the variables of fate, and never seemed overmatched by the size of his own undertaking. 

The second engagement

The Globe-Democrat of September 14 reviewed the first performance. It recalled the quaint and tatty circuses of the past. The small circle, the old tricks…the thinly clad lady vaulting through paper hoops, and character riders disrobing in a sort of equestrian pantomime.” These were eclipsed now by the “monster Hippodrome of Mr. P.T. Barnum.” Where the horses, riders and costumes were once reason for the parents to take the children, “now the children are a good excuse to take the parents, who are really more interested in the various races and exciting incidents in the entertainment.”

The paper promised astonishment, “not only at the performance, but at the pluck and enterprise to take on the inevitable risks. For after all the wonders of the Hippodrome have been seen, Barnum is the greatest wonder of all.” 

The Republican of September 15 covered the last day of the last appearance of Barnum’s Hippodrome. It also expressed admiration for the man who put this spectacle together. “Barnum, feeling the public pulse and its universal temper towards him, dared to organize the show that was apparently the dream of his life, and he carried it forward to success.” It praised his recognition that the public flocked to contests – of men and women, and people with horses.” The other aspects of the show grew out of the central point of contests. It was important that these be real, honestly and earnestly competitive, with real “joy in triumph and the passing gloom in defeat.” 

ABC Wide World Of Sports echoed this exact sentiment (“the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat,”) in its 37 year run on television. Some lessons are timeless. 

End of the road for the Hippodrome

On November 21,1875, the New York Dispatch paid a final tribute to Barnum’s Hippodrome. This presaged a huge sale of the $150,000 worth of costumes, horses and all the miscellaneous cargo from the largest tent show on earth. P.T Barnum also announced his retirement. The Dispatch predicted that the world would never “look upon his like again.”

The interior of New York’s Hippodrome building resembled a gigantic bazaar. Displayed around the ellipse were armor, Indian costumes, Turkish dresses, saddles, military coats and boots, guns, swords and “the entire wardrobe of the P.T. Barnum Universal Exposition Company.” Everything, without exception, was for sale. Items  were sold in lots, consisting of boxes full of stuff. Few serious buyers attended the event. Box 28 held a fine suit of armor and sold for a quarter of what Barnum once paid. Wigs, banners, jewelry. 65 muskets with bayonets brought 65 cents each and cavalry and officers swords brought 90 cents each. Pikes, battle-axes, halberds. A pile of them went for $60. The Lord Mayor of London’s coach sold for $60. In total, the sale yielded less than $5,000. The horses and wild animals were sold the following day in Bridgeport, CT. 

Buying and selling of horses was fairly routine in 1875, but Betsy the elephant was another matter. “A kind animal that can be fondled by anyone. Unlike most of her kind, she has never killed a man since entering show business.” Another pachyderm, Albert, was a “vicious brute when badly treated.” It once grabbed a lady rider around the waist and dunked her into a large tank of water. Yet another, named Gypsy, once wandered into the paint tent, and scattered buckets of paint in every direction. The last mentioned was Queen, prone to grabbing candy from the hands of children. The only lasting damage it caused was to a bulldog, who “looked like a disfigured oil painting, once Queen lifted the weight of her leg from him.” 

Times were different when the ASPCA was non-existent. The Brazilian tiger Emperor once allegedly killed two children and a woman, along with destroying several flocks. He was captured and sent to Cuba, and used to fight bulls. After he killed a famous English bull called Wellington, Barnum bought him at a bargain price. Ungrateful, the tiger severely injured two of his handlers, but was finally broken and used in the ring. A pariah, Emperor lived outside the show grounds, in solitary confinement. 

The paper told similar tales of an Asiatic lion, a lioness, and two leopards. One old lion for sale once killed a giraffe and a large male camel in another circus. There was a royal Bengal tiger, bears, monkeys, dogs, and a rhinoceros named Fanny. Most seemed to be veterans of violent episodes involving broken limbs, torn scalps, and other pre-workman’s comp mayhem. All were for sale at auction, but their fates remain unknown. 

There were various outcomes for the many human performers with their oddly specialized skills. In late October of 1875, the Cleveland Herald related a story from the local calaboose. It ensconced one of Barnum’s veterans.

Tying up the loose ends

After the successful but exhausting run of the Hippodrome, and the divesting of materials, Barnum and Coup created “P. T. Barnum’s Greatest Show On Earth. In 1881, this show merged with that of James Bailey and James Hutchinson, forming Barnum and Bailey Greatest Show On Earth. This group toured the world.

Barnum closed the Hippodrome, but it reopened in 1879 as a live event venue under a new name, Madison Square Garden. It didn’t last long before meeting the wrecking ball again.

Famous names abounded in the reconstruction of what Harpers Weekly called, “a patched-up, grummy, drafty, combustible old shell” The buyers group included J.P. Morgan, Andrew Carnegie, and W.W. Astor. Noted architect Stanford White redesigned the new arena in 1889. It opened as the original Madison Square Garden the following year. A later Garden at the same site was demolished in 1926, and replaced in 1928 by the New York Life Building, designed by Cass Gilbert. It still stands at 51 Madison Avenue. The current Madison Square Garden resides further uptown.

Barnum turned to revising his autobiography, and wrote a succession of books on various subjects. He served four terms in the Connecticut legislature. In 1875, Bridgeport, CT elected Barnum mayor. He also served on the board of trustees for Tufts University.  

It’s part of our culture to lionize our statesmen and warriors. These were serious folks leading others into and through tough times. Barnum served instead to tickle and tantalize. He was a man filling the nation’s need for diversion and entertainment. This he delivered in spades. Again, it’s a fruitless search for any stinging critique of him in his own time. He rather held everyone in awe, while they tried to ascertain whether they were being “humbugged.”  

And what of Washington Harrison Donaldson and his spectacular, if non-existent balloon ascensions? Alas, there isn’t enough room to do justice to that story here. So, a cliffhanger, of sorts. Another parallel essay is underway. It will give the Donaldson and Barnum relationship a full treatment. Stay tuned. 

Resources

Wikipedia gives a good pocket profile of the long life and career of P. T. Barnum. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P._T._Barnum

Another valuable short bio appears in the New York Times; When Barnum Took Manhattan; John Strausbaugh; November 9, 2007; https://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/09/arts/09expl.html

A long thoughtful essay on Barnum’s career is at http://xroads.virginia.edu/~DRBR2/badams.pdf. It’s called E Pluribus Barnum: The Great Showman and the Making of U.S. Popular Culture; Bluford Adams; University of Minnesota Press; 1997

A lively recollection of the fire that destroyed Barnum’s Museum in New York is here: https://www.boweryboyshistory.com/2020/06/the-fire-at-barnums-american-museum-150-years-ago.html

PT Barnum newspaper ad for Roman Hippodrome. Florida State University DigiNole; https://fsu.digital.flvc.org/islandora/object/fsu%3A846

For more information on circuses in general, a fascinating site is at https://circusesandsideshows.com

Description of acts from Barnum’s NYC Hippodrome https://library.brown.edu/cds/catalog/catalog.php?verb=render&id=1121440151732379&view=pageturner&pageno=1

Hippodrome in New York description from the New York Sun; July 4, 1874

Elephant encyclopedia for drawing of show under the Hippodrome: https://www.elephant.se/location2.php?location_id=1491

Advance advertisement of Hippodrome show; St. Louis Globe-Democrat; July 16,1875

Early advance notice of a Donaldson balloon ascension in St. Louis from the Globe-Democrat; July 11, 1875

End of Hippodrome; StL Globe-Democrat; December 1,1875

St.Louis Republican April 15,1875; July 19,1875; July 21,1875; July 22,1875; September 14,1875

St. Louis Post-Dispatch; July 19,1875; July 20,1875

St. Louis Globe-Democrat; July 18,1875; July 21,1875; July 24,1875; September 14,1875

Kansas City Times; September 11,1875

New York Dispatch; November 21,1875

*The metamorphosis of Barnum’s Museum to Madison Square Garden appears in a Wikipedia article here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madison_Square_Garden_(1879)

The 1875 Hippodrome program referenced is from https://www.bidsquare.com/online-auctions/potter-potter/p-t-barnum-s-hippodrome-program-926185

A good history of the New York Life Building, once the site of Barnum’s Hippodrome, is at New York Life’s website: https://www.newyorklife.com/newsroom/history-of-51madison-home-office

There is a Barnum Museum currently under construction in Bridgeport, CT. I recommend it as a source of information, worthy of a donation and perhaps a future visit: https://barnum-museum.org/about/about-the-museum/

Enjoyed this essay? Consider catching up on one I wrote a couple of years ago; regarding Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show in St. Louis. https://lafayettesquarearchives.com/1896-buffalo-bills-wild-west-show-comes-to-st-louis/