The Billboard 1906-03-17: Vol 18 Iss 11 (1906-03-17)

22 The Billboard MARCH 17, 1906. r ~ First Blephant YX By Warren A, Patrick. | HOUSANDS of years ago the birth of an elephant within the confines of , our present North Temperate Zone, on this continent, would have been of as little moment to an observer—had | he been there to chronicle it—as the rising of the sun or a rainfall. In modern times it is different, and in this difference lies the reason for my devoting space to this short sketch. The accompanying illustration, which, by the way, we consider a nearly perfect specimen of the photographer’s art, will attract the attention of thousands of eyes; not only, however, because of its artistic merit, but because of : the subject and matter that it Ulustrates. Well may the eyes of the reader be fastened upon it, for it represents the first baby elephant born in modern times, in North America, and that baby elephant’s gigantic mother. This baby elephant was born in 1879 in the winter quarters of the Cooper & Bailey Circus, corner Ridge and Columbia avenues, Philadelphia, Pa, ‘The occasion was considered of such unusual significance that the baby was christened Columbia, in honor of ‘‘the land of the free,”’ and the entire press of the country, at that time, teemed with columns of 7 matter devoted to the mother and baby. In the illustration one’s attention is drawn to the monster United States flag, to the left, formang a canopy over the creatures who, historians tell us, are descendants of the gigantic mastodon and megatberium. The mother’s name, strange to say, reversed the positions of herself and offspring, she having been given long before the name of ‘‘Rabe.”’ OWNER WAS OLD SHOWMAN The figure of the man to the left, in the illustration, is that of Mr. George Arstingstall, who, at the time, was famed on two continents as being one of the most successful wild animal collectors in the world. Indeed, by common consent, he was acknowledged the Hagenbeck of that period. He was enthusiastic over the appearance of tiny Columbia, and, na . doubt, it was chiefly due to his superintending eare that the baby elephant is now one of the living, famous elephants in the world. In dismissing Mr. Arstingstall from the scene, we can not forbear to say that he enjoyed the personal acquaintance and friendship of more circus managers and people connected with the circus than any other man of his calling at that time, He died last year in Dayton, Ohio. The men’s figure to the right. in the illustra tion, is that of Mr. James A. Bailey, who even at that early time gave promise of the great talent he possessed in the kingdom of shows. No mother ever showed a more tender care of her first-born than Valley exhibited towards his toy elephant. Evidence to-day is not lacking of the endurance and tenacity of the liking he bore for the pretty little pachyderm, for Columbia, now grown into a magnificent animal and one of the finest performers in the large herd of elephants owned by the Barnum & Bailey Greatest Show on Earth, is still visited by him daily, when he is on the grounds, and a watchful interest and care taken in her condition. Columbia and her mother, Babe, belong to the Asiatic genus of elephants, not the African. In fact, it is well known that the African species do not thrive in the North temperate climate. and, I believe, there is only one Afcican elephant living in America. D. PHILIPPA PHILLIPS The above is an excellent likeness of Miss D. Philippa Phillips, the beautiful daughter of Mureal, te well-known vaudevillian, and > P. Phillips, of the Great Van Ambourg Shows. Though little Philippa is but three years of age she speaks both French and English fluently. She is loved for her sunny disposition, and is the joy of both her parents and their many friends in the profession. When Columbia was born, her mother, Babe, performed a very curious ceremony. She rolled the baby over and over on the ground. Students of natural history may be able to give the proper reason for this, but, certain it was, none of those who stood around to welcome the baby elephant into the explain the mother’s actions. Babe, of this first baby elephant, to America in 1871, with a by Jas. E, It will be of interest to animal men generally to know that this group was broken to perform by ‘‘Nigger’’ Eph. Thompson, Stuart Craven and Charlie Bell, the latter of whom is now connected with the Clark Street Museum in Chicago. PHOTO HAS HISTORY The photograph from which the illustration was made was taken in 1879, and for a number of years was in the possession of the well known animal painter, Mr. Cross, who is at present living in Illinois, somewhere near Chicago. Mr, Cross saw the splendid possibilities of the illustration for a reproduction on canvas, but, at the present writing, we are not certain that this was done. Several years afterward he presented it to the late W. H. Harris, proprietor and manager of the Nickel Plate Shows. The mother, was brought number of others, , the advance man puts on when he discusses the | matter, | tent for this innovation of the iconoclast. We harden our hearts to his affable assurance that | days of our juvenile joys, we can well conceive world could | Kelly for the Van Amburg Shows. | | ticket wagon | | | Sometime after Mr. Harris’ | qualified verdict, here and now, that the pa from San Francisco, Cal., to Ogden, Utah. The next jump she made was from Ogden to Memphis, Tenn., but in this case it was much more pleasant for her—she went by rail. The career of Gypsy was ended some years later when she was executed for man-killing. THE PARADELESS CIRCUS A Protest from the Evening Telegram, of Portland, Oregon, We read the disquieting announcement that we are to have a paradeless circus. In the language of the Duke of Venice, ‘*We are sorry for it." We care not what a plausible front when he assigns his reasons most po we will like the new way as well as the old one, if not better. We are sure that we won't do any thing of the kind. Harking back to the of the plum pudding minus the plums, the baked turkey without the stuffing, or a Fourth of July bereft of brass bands and fire-crackers as a circus without a parade, We wot not of the evolution for which mod ern enterprise is responsible. What is it to us that in these fleeting years the circus has} evolved from its pristine glory to the realization of all that unsurpassable magnificence and | srandeur, so superlatively set forth in the gaudy handbills which our youthtime knew? Have | not our four-bit pieces, surrendered at the! and our dimes, which entitled us to be present at the aftermath—ecalled the concert—contributed to that end? Why should we be shorn of any privilege on that account? By what warrant does the circus magnate lift his head in the clouds and ignore the sources of his present greatness? If in former times if the cireus did not come up to the pictures on the show-bills, we grieved not at the discrepancy. The day of its advent was a recurring red-letter day in our existence. It began—mark you—with the parade, and ended when the last stale joke about the ‘‘ash bar’l’’ was given a rehearsing at the concert. And, let it be registered as our un “COLUMBIA” AND HER MOTHER, “BABE.” death, his son-in-law, Mr. C. C. Wilson, manager of the Adam Forepaugh-Nells Bros.’ Show, in looking over the effects of the deceased found the photograph. He wus about to mail it to James A. Bailey, a few weeks ago, when the writer happened to walk into his Chicago office. It was too good a chance to overlook, and the request was made that Mr. Wilson should permit a reproduction. It is due to his eourteous acquiescence that the artistic illustrations adorns one of the pages of the Spring Special issue. The story would be incomplete were the omission made to state that three other elephants have been born in the United States since Columbia first saw the light. One of these was born in the winter quarters of the Barnum & Bailey Shows, at Bridgeport. Conn., and the other two at the winter quarters of the Ringling Bros.’ World’s Greatest Shows, at Baraboo, Wis. Not one of the three survived more than a year. The caused keen regret among the Ringling forces. So thoroughly had the little fellows won their way into the good will and affection of every one connected with the shows, from the proprietors down to the humblest worker, that demand was made for the perpetuation of the traffic mounted with all the skill of the taxedermist’s art, and elose friends of the managers, who fellows, who are carefully preserved in a locked and unfrequented room. It an interesting occurance will October in the Ringling herd, but that the new comer, conspicuously in a special stunt with the mounted figures of its dead kin. It is to be hoped sincerely that the Ringling Brothers will not be disappointed this time and that. in addition to its surviving to a hale old age, 11 will appropriately bear the name of “Uncle Sam.”’ is expected that take place next if it lives, will figure In connection with the foregoing, it will prove of interest to many to know that the first elephant brought to America was ‘Empress.’ In iater years she was known as “Gypsy,” and was featured with the Harris Nickel Plate Shows. This elephant was remarkable for her pedestrial feats. In 1889, C. W. McCurren, superintendent of animals for the ForepanghSamuels Show, drove this elephant overland loss of the Baraboo duo) } sun, } memory of the departed pacbyderms. They were | it not been so, we would not have been present. happen to visit the winter quarters at Baraboo, | chariots, are sometimes favored with a view of the little |erer served as equipage for Oriental potentate: | ' and who knows | rade was not the feature that contributed the least to the pleasures of the day. Do you think, Mr. Cireus Man, it was nothing to us that when you came to town our holiday began with the morning? Do you believe we have forgotten the delight of nervous preparation, the hasty getting away to town of old and young, the keen tingle of apprehension lest we should be late for the parade, and the thorough reaction of content with ourselves. and all the world beside. when we found that such was not the fact? If you imagine that the sordid spirit of the times has so crushed the poetry out of our natures that we can fall in recollection of these supreme experiences, you are grievously in error. You tell us in your practical way that you have devised a better arrangement. There will be no more worry and bustle. No jostling in the crowded street, no sweltering in the rays of the summer's sun, waiting for the parade to appear. There will be no parade. Don’t you know that, aside from the pleasure of that bustle and worry, we have jostled in the same crowded street, sweltered in the same summer's because we wanted to? Is it really neceasary we should inform you that, in our estimation, the game was worth the candle? Had From the first blare of your brazen band, through the passing of your gold and mirrored excelling in magnificence any that through the tramping by of richly caparisoned steeds. bestrode with bespangled and velvetrobed beauty and chivalry of high degree; through the ponderous and stately march of dusky elephants, once, mayhap, the property of Indian KRajahs; through the unsteady and wabbling stride of hump-backed dromedary, that, in faney, had carried the spices of Arabia across the burning sands of Sahara: through the rumbling of heavy vans in which were restlessly pacing the king of the jungle, the tiger and leopard; and last but not least, as we listened to the strident tones of that marvel of marvels, the steam calllope, the jostling crowd and the sweltering in the summer’s sun were forgot. It is true we were privileged, in part, to see these things at la grande entre under the big tent; but to deprive us of this parade is to strip us of an absolute perguisite. What care we about your big circus, facing the loss of EUGENE FIE8S President of the Alabama State Fair, such as this? Are we to be robbed the sacrilegious hand of mercenary utility? ay, may. Mr. Circus Man, you may take from as the concert, the clown’s song book, the fresh roasted peanuts, the pink lemonade, the attractions of the sideshow, you may reduce us to one if you will; but the parade is an ancient \vilege which we have grappled to our with hoops of steel. We refuse to part it without raising our voice in strenuous protest. THE EYE AND THE EAR By George M. Cohan. The Eye and the Ear Went to see and to hear All the Musical comedy ‘‘Hits’’ of the year. The Eye was amused At the colorings used For spectacles brilliant. It saw and enthused Such costumes, and taste, Glorious groupings so placed, Such stage pictures were never thought out ia haste. And the scene painter, he Got on so famously That the realism brought out the Bye’s sympathy. The Eye, first inspired, Soon grew dazzlingly tired At the glittering gildings And color schemes fired And the Eye gave a sigh, And said: “‘Why is it I Should enthuse, while the Ear is so quafet close by. If you could but see You would praise it like me,”’ Said the Eye to the Ear. “Il am sure we'd agree.’’ To the Eye sald the Ear: “I'm so glad you can’t hear All these tainted old jokes they’ve been springing all year. You can just take my word, It’s been worse than absurd. You’ve seen pretty things, But they’re tough things, I’ve heard,”’ To the Eye said the Ear: “We'd agree that it’s clear If I hear what you see And you'd see what I hear.”’ LONGING ' By Mollie Minor. (Written for The Billboard.) Oh, we're longing for the summer— That dear old joyous time; When the band in gilt and spangles— Goes a thunderin’ down the line, With old age and youth comming A marchin’ right behind— Sure—life is then worth living, in The good old summer time. Oh, we're tired of bull briskets— And good old chicken soup; Made of rags and ravelings— ¢ That never saw a coup. Dried apple pies and doughnuts— Made of shoes and turpentine; Can you wonder that we're longin’ For that good old summer time? We're longin’ for a towel—that— We don’t meet for a week; And a tick net stuffed with concrete, And—we'd like to know a sheet, That isn’t quite as friendly—as— (It surely is sublime) We've used it all this winter—since That good old summer time. Oh, we're longin’ for a chop house— Far from the crowded street; Where the boss ain't so exacting— "Bout the little bite we eat; Who snarls around the hangout— With the stove up close behind, When we're shkiverin’ and a longin’ for That good old summer time. Oor old trombone slick and polished— We've wired for our fare; To take us to the country— God knows, we care not where, Just 80 we meet seme people— ‘Who don’t worship on a dime, And begrudge a poor wind jammer— ’ His goed old summer time. )