David Lannarck, Midget | Page 6

repay. Besides all this, we've done Fisheye a good
turn. He'll have those cubs doing things before snow flies."
"He has always wanted a Happy Family Act, and now he's got a start.
From time to time he will add native animals like foxes, raccoons,
badgers, and maybe a porky or two and label them 'Native Americans'
and sell them to someone, cage and all, before next season."
"Fisheye is versatile. Every winter he has a bunch of misfit dogs, and
out of the outfit he'll get some smart ones that will train well. He is
good, too, on a dog and pony act. Once a zebra got its leg broke in
swinging one of the big poles in place. It looked like there was nothing

to do but shoot it. But Fisheye salvaged the cripple; he taught it to get
up and down with the leg in splints; cured him, except for a slight limp,
and finally sold the beast as the only zebra that was ever broken to
harness. Fisheye is a grand old liar but he's a fine animal man."

2
Circuses--the big ones, with menageries--have a tradition: "the show
must go on." Storms, fires, rail disasters, major accidents--even
death--shall not deter. The show must go on. The Great International
had lived fully up to this tradition. In all of its growing years, it had met
and overcome any and all obstacles that might hinder its progress and
promises. In the years past, a versatile routing agent could and did
avoid many minor financial losses by routing the show to other fields.
If a mine strike prevailed in one section, that district was missed by
careful routings; if the boll weevil prevailed, the cotton belt was a
closed field; if wheat failed in the Northwest, or mills were closed in
Gary, the bookings were deflected to other marts.
But the year 1932 was different; fertile fields there were not. It was not
a case of dodging; it was a plain case of trying to hit. And there was no
place.
The Great International was making a brave effort to stem the tide of
depression. Its great spread of canvas billowed over many new and
novel attractions. It boasted of the largest herd of tame elephants in all
the world. Its aerial acts were new to the circus lovers of America. Its
grand opening was a riot of splendid colorings and beauty, never
surpassed in all pageantry. Yet old Depression was winning at every
stand. Historic Cheyenne, with its years of background in gathering
humanity to its playdays, was little better than the rest. Business
prudence dictated the routings from here on, and the route led to winter
quarters. It was as David Lannarck said: "We play the U.P. to Omaha
and then home."
Sam Welborn, the man from the mountains, enjoyed the Kid Show,

immensely. The trained cockatoos, the big snakes, the many freak
people, the brief but snappy minstrel show, were some of the varied
features. But best of all, Welborn watched the antics of his little friend
of the morning adventure. He came on the little stage, first as a
swaggering general, then as an admiral, last as a real doughboy of the
United States Army. Dancing, bowing, and waving the flag, he won
generous applause. Later, he came on as Cupid with bow and arrow,
and made some fine shots into a target representing a heart. His song
number was appropriate to this act.
Following this performance, David conducted his friend to the marquee
of the Big Show and passed him in to greater glories. "I will see you
before the performance is over," he said in parting.
The Big Show was not cut or curtailed. From the grand opening to the
closing number the full production was given without a hitch. Sam
Welborn, seated in the reserve section was back to boyhood days. He
watched the many features of the bewildering panorama with childish
enthusiasm. It was a great show. Just before the finale, he was joined
by his little friend.
"Our next stop will be the dining car," said Davy as they followed the
crowd out the main entrance. "I have something I want to talk over with
one of you Westerners and I think you are the man."
"Maybe I am not a Westerner," said Welborn quietly.
"Why you live out here, don't you?" retorted Davy.
"Yes, I live out here, a great ways out, clear out to the rim of things. If
it wasn't for the mountains hemming the horizon, our 'wide open
spaces' would be without limit. I live beyond the Medicine Bow
Mountains over next to North Park. My nearest neighbor is two miles
away. I am fifteen miles from a filling station."
"Why, I didn't know there was