1905
TRENTON, NEW JERSEY
If Mable were to rank the experience, her afternoon at the Ringling Brothers’ circus was more amazing than any visit to the Chicago World’s Fair. Here, in a once lonely field outside Trenton, was a makeshift world within a world, one in which the inhabitants of a rural community could step through the gates into a collection of wonders the likes of which only J. M. Barrie could have dreamt up, for one of his Neverland plays.
A rainbow of balloons pointed to the sky around sundry wagonettes. The singsong melody of chiming bells filled the air, mingling with children’s delighted laughter. These were echoed by the errant roars and deep-chested grunts of exotic animals that weren’t far off. Dazzling sequined costumes caught the sunlight, flashing as performers passed by. Carnival game masters shouted through the crowd, inviting guests to stop in and show their strength at the high-striker game or their skill in toppling a tower of milk bottles in a single throw.
This was her introduction to John’s world—a remarkable oddity of sights and sounds, tinged with the sweet smells of candied apples and the molasses popcorn Sally would have favored. Tents with intricately painted façades lined the field path along which they now walked, drawing curious minds into their innermost canvas rooms with promise of the mysterious and strange.
“Have your eye on something?” John asked. She was gazing at the image of a snake-charmer painted in a leafy-green jungle vignette spanning the length of a nearby façade.
Mable was intrigued, but not by the sideshow oddities. Not primarily, anyway.
“I might.” She laughed. “But not here. I want to see the gears turning, Mr. Ringling. Show me how it all works.”
The shadow of a grin spread on his lips and he nodded, pointing the way with his cane.
They waltzed in the autumn sun as he granted her wish, leading them to the behind-the-scenes action of the back lot. There Mable could ask questions and see every detail of the performers and animals in the show, including clowns without makeup and the unglamorous cleaning up after animals on the lot.
The Midway was full of delights—games, treats, and a sideshow that held some interest—but all that paled in comparison to the cogs and gears that kept running behind the Big Top’s drawn curtain. Mable much preferred watching the making of fun, in all of its raw nature, versus watching the fun itself.
They passed a considerable wagon—the largest she’d seen yet—vivid in red, yellow, and white paint, with gilded lion engravings peeking out from the base. It was painstakingly detailed, with carvings all around an inner, iron-barred cage. There were rich filigree designs and painted discs that covered the spokes on the wheels.
“This one is for the lions,” she guessed, looking up to see John’s reaction. “Yes?”
“How did you know that?”
She pointed to the lion engravings. “Gives it away every time, Mr. Ringling.”
“And that one?”
Mable shook her head. “Easy. Rhinoceros.” She pointed out the carved designs of turban-wearing hunters and the engraving of a large rhino head bursting through grasses shining out from the edge of the iron bars.
A canvas curtain shielded the animal inside.
“Would you like to see her?”
Mable laughed. What an oddity. He talked about rare animals as one would a member of the family. “Her?”
He nodded. “Yes. Mary is her name. She was our first rhino. We acquired her just two years ago. Can you believe it—all 4,800 of her pounds are supported by that wagon.”
“I think we should leave her in peace, poor Mary. No doubt she’s got a long evening of delighting patrons in the menagerie tent. She’ll need her rest.”
“Too right. But our animals are treated well. She’s not overworked, I assure you. But since you prefer to judge matters for yourself, I’ll take you to the menagerie. Try to prove me wrong if you’d like.”
“Now there’s an idea.” She found herself smiling. Too much. Even biting the edge of her bottom lip like a schoolgirl every moment or so. The sights were too much. Too exhilarating. And she had to admit—it was wonderful to see it all with him. “But I would like to see the birds if we could. I’ve always had a fondness for them and have yet to see any truly unusual ones.”
“We’ll look at anything you wish to see. We also have zebras. Kangaroos. Royal Bengal tigers, which are a favorite among the circus guests. And of course, Prince—our lion. I doubt Noah himself had finer stock. Though I must confess, we didn’t wish to manage such big animals—the ones that carry a burden of liability with them.”
“Perhaps not, but Noah certainly had more,” she teased.
“All right, Mable Burton. If you’re so clever, what about that wagon over there? With the canvas covering the bars. There are no engravings to give it away. Who lives in there?”
“If there are holes in the roof—which I cannot see myself—the giraffes. If not, I’d say you are hiding a hippopotamus. The more exotic the animal, the closer you watch it, and the more we pay for the pleasure.”
“Very astute,” he noted, tipping his hat to her. “I bow to your knowledge of the game.”
“I admit—I read it in an advertisement. I saw an additional charge to see those animals. You keep them out of the parade because of their rarer nature.”
“I am glad to know someone reads the advertisements we spend so much money on,” said the man approaching them. He was tall in stature, with a smart suit, dark hair, and matching thick mustache. There was no doubt about it. He must be one of John’s brothers.
He smiled at Mable. “It makes smart business sense, doesn’t it? Our brother Al’s idea. But since I’m charged with the army of advertisements for our promotion, I’m mighty glad it’s paying off with our customer base.”
“She’s not a customer today, Charles. This is Mable Burton.” John paused. “She’s my guest.”
A look of understanding passed between the brothers, though Mable wasn’t sure what it meant.
“You must be a good friend indeed, Miss Burton. John seldom takes walks through the back lot—at least not for leisure. And I don’t believe he’s brought one of his friends home to meet us yet. This really is a pleasure.”
Had she heard him correctly? She was the first girl he’d brought home? Even if “home” was most unconventional, with thousands of workers and guests, and animals who’d eat them for lunch, it still spoke volumes that he’d invited her into the thick of it.
“Thank you,” she replied, glancing at John out of the corner of her eye.
He’d grown quiet, a measure of retreat evident on his face. Perhaps there was some sibling rivalry behind the show. Or perhaps not. John was, by his own admission, careful with all of his relationships.
“Well, I’m off.” Charles lifted a large leather case in his free hand. “I play the horn once or twice a season, and today’s the day.” He nodded in farewell. “Make sure my brother here finds you the best seat in the house, Miss Burton. The big show’s about to begin.”
THEY DID HAVE PERFECT SEATS.
Mable chose them.
John had begun to lead them to the bleacher seats near the front, to really feel the action in the ring. But when Mable clamped eyes on the scores of children, all with such looks of enchantment covering their faces, sitting on straw bales along the outside of the performance rings, she knew exactly where they should sit.
Mable edged her way down the bleachers to the children, waving for John to follow.
She moved ahead and found an open seat, then planted herself right in the midst of a Wonderland of the Ringling family’s making. She sat on a straw bale, surrounded by squeals of delight and little pairs of eyes that brimmed with excitement under the immense canvas sky.
Mable chatted with the children around her.
They shared their peanuts with her, calling her a nice lady. They munched on popcorn and spun sugar candy in a bevy of rainbow colors. A little boy spilled chocolate ice cream on the hem of her dress.
She didn’t blink an eyelash, for all of it proved magical. Even the ice cream.
The music began—deep, booming tones of brass playing together, lively tunes to christen the show. And then the ringmaster stepped out, in a top hat and bright red coat that made him look like the captain of a great ship. He announced the acts as they came, but Mable didn’t hear a thing but the wonder of childhood.
Laughter at the antics of the clowns.
Oohs and aahs at the feats of the aerial acrobats.
Riotous giggles when they watched the dancing bears . . .
“Remember them?” John leaned in, whispering in her ear.
She’d forgotten he was there. In truth, Mable had been lost for some time. Happily so, but lost.
“Dancing bears?”
“You remember,” he said, pointing to the furry animals. “At the Exposition? You said dancing bears were fun. Not scary or menacing. Just fun. I thought we could use some of that in our show.”
A flood of recollection washed over her. It was something she’d said and only vaguely remembered. But not John. He’d made it a matter of remembrance and put action to it.
“How did you . . .”
“How did I remember?” He smirked, a gesture she thought not commonplace for him. “I remember everything you say, Mable.”
“You do. Why?”
“You have good ideas. You could be very helpful around here. You know, keep us men in line. Challenge us into new ways of thinking.”
She nodded, feeling her heart sink a little.
The children still laughed all around them, oblivious to the heavy words of adults in their midst. But she wondered why he’d complimented her by remembering such a nominal detail, then brushed over it so nonchalantly.
“John Ringling, I have a job. I’m not sure I’ll be available to come share ideas with you and your brothers. Besides, you seem to be doing quite well without my help.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, nodding. “Yet you’ve come all this way at my invitation.”
“It’s been breathtaking to see everything today, but I really couldn’t—”
“Then it’s settled. We must find you a new job that’s more suited to your talents.”
The children laughed, well timed to his comment, though they were reacting to the pratfall of a clown in the ring.
“A job?”
It can’t be why he’s asked me here . . .
“Yes. A job, of sorts. One I hope you’ll consider.”
She felt all of the excitement deflate out of the moment.
They’d shared dinners. Seaside walks on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. John had even agreed to meet Sally, and had gone with Mable when she’d sought to help her still sick friend get a rare day out of a sanitarium. He’d brought a car so they could ride around, letting the wind hit her face so she could breathe in the salty sea air.
All of it had been pointing to something, hadn’t it?
Love, Mable had hoped, for she so enjoyed her months with him. John’s quiet way really was a compliment to her bustle and brash.
But now . . . a job.
That was his offer.
Mable sighed into her response. “While I’m flattered, I like the job I have. I told you—I’ve always wanted to live by the sea. I get to do that in Atlantic City. There’s no job here that could truly satisfy me more than that.”
“Yes. I thought that might be your answer,” he countered softly. “And that’s why it must be you, Mable. Because you’re genuine. You’re not after fortune or notoriety. You don’t ask for a thing in return. You’re just . . . you. And the only job you could fill is in my heart.”
She turned to him.
Not sure she could have heard him correctly.
Cymbals clanged somewhere off behind, followed by the roar of applause from the crowd. The circus band cued up for a riotous melody. Something marvelous must have been happening in the ring, but she didn’t see it.
“I think I’m the one who should be applying for a job with you, Mable Burton.” He paused, looked out over the activity in the circus rings, then turned back to her with a gleaming smile. “Marry me? Let me tag along on your adventures?”
Her smile came easy.
It was a moment Mable never expected. One she’d not forget. With the Circus Kings’ exhibition of wonder all around and the children presiding in their court, Mable’s world changed forever.
She nodded, tears in her eyes, agreeing to become a circus queen.