This book began with a picture of George and Willie Muse posted about two years ago on Facebook, of all things. I was midway through a shared bottle of wine on a Friday night when I spotted a familiar, circa-1927 picture shared by my inimitable friend Mim Young, a lifelong circus aficionada. The enthusiastic response to Mim’s post gave me my first, albeit flushed, idea that just maybe I could resurrect the Roanoke Times newspaper series I’d cowritten in 2001 and, if enough new material could be gathered, turn it into a book. It helped immeasurably that my former newspaper cowriter, Jen McCaffery, had carted her sixteen-pound box of Muse files around with her through several moves to multiple cities, always hoping in the back of her mind that one of us would write that book. Jen, I will forever owe you for sending that box to me, plus postage!
My agent, Peter McGuigan, was his usual cheerful, opinionated, and bulldogging self throughout the arc of this project. A hearty thanks to Peter and the entire team at Foundry Literary + Media, especially Bret Witter, Kirsten Neuhaus, Jessica Regel, Richie Kern, and Matt Wise; and to Caspian Dennis at Abner Stein in London.
I remain so lucky to get to work with editor John Parsley, who has now shepherded two of my books into print—and made them smoother, more nuanced, and ultimately more honest. Thanks also to my Macmillan editor, Georgina Morley, and to all my stalwart champions at Little, Brown and Company, including Malin von Euler-Hogan, Miriam Parker, Sabrina Callahan, Alyssa Persons, Sarah Haugen, Fiona Brown, Reagan Arthur, Craig Young, and Karen Torres. Copyeditor Deborah P. Jacobs and production editor Pamela Marshall were eagle-eyed and diligent, and I’m so grateful this book was in their care.
There’s no chapter in this book that doesn’t owe some fact-finding debt to my estimable cadre of librarians, researchers, historians, and court-records sleuths. Librarians are so much cleverer, cooler, and cheerfully subversive than they get credit for, and they are my favorite tribe, especially razor-sharp Piper Cumbo at Roanoke College and the amazingly resourceful staffs of the Virginia Room at the Roanoke City Library, and of that system’s very special Gainsboro branch. Special thanks for the research assistance of Pat Ross of the Bassett Historical Center; Diane Adkins of the Pittsylvania County Public Library; Franklin County genealogist Beverly Merritt; Linda Stanley at the Franklin County Historical Society; retired journalist and all-around historical stickler George Kegley; Harrison Museum of African American Culture director Charles Price; Aiesha (the intern!) Krause-Lee at the College of William and Mary; and historian John Kern.
Title examiner and court-records researcher Betsy Biesenbach dedicated herself to this project as if it were her own, as did Belinda Harris, who spent many weekends combing through newspaper archives. Others who helped me navigate tricky subjects included Evalyn Chapman, Mark and Elizabeth Jamison, Greg Renoff, Andy Erlich, Gladys Hairston, Jane Nicholas, Bev Fitzpatrick, Randy Abbott, Virgil Goode, Randy Abbott, the late Harvey Lutins, and Roddy Moore and Vaughan Webb of the Blue Ridge Institute and Museum at Ferrum College. Editor/historian Rand Dotson’s amazing Roanoke, Virginia, 1882–1912: Magic City of the New South guided much of my Jim Crow–era research. Sarah Baumgardner cheerfully plunged into dusty map archives at the Western Virginia Water Authority, as did Dan Webb at the City of Roanoke. Kate and Kamran Khalilian made their home my Richmond bureau, and Kate scoured archives at the Library of Virginia when I couldn’t make the trek.
Mary Bishop’s coverage of black Roanoke history for the Roanoke Times schooled me countless times, and the impact of her almost three decades of journalistic counsel is palpable an every page of this book.
Dr. Reginald Shareef coached me and shared important insights about growing up in segregated Roanoke, as did Sarah Showalter, Willie Mae Ingram, ace journalist JoAnne Poindexter, Lawrence Mitchell, and the late A. L. Holland. Thanks to Regina “Sweet Sue” Peeks, I will never drive past a vacant urban lot again without imagining the racist parrots she recalled—a reminder that archives and documents only carry you so far: nothing beats strangers sharing their memories and desires. Nothing. To Janet Johnson, Mabel Pullen, Johnny Angell, J. Harry Woody, and A. J. Reeves in Truevine: God bless you a double portion.
Leading my own version of a circus backyard was the endlessly fascinating Al Stencell, whose love of sideshow history is as unparalleled as his colorful stories. I’m equally grateful to circus historians Dick Flint, Warren Raymond, Bob Blackmar, Bob Bogdan, Bernth Lindfors, Fred Pfening III, LaVahn Hoh, Glenn Charron, and Fred Dahlinger, and to historical costume expert Joshua Bond. Pete Shrake at the Circus World Museum, in Baraboo, was especially helpful, as were Maureen Brunsdale and Mark Schmitt at the Milner Library’s Circus and Allied Arts collection at Illinois State University; and Kelly Zacovic, Heidi Taylor, and Howard Tibbals of the John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art, in Sarasota. My research into British sideshows was greatly aided by Clare Moore and her research at the Stoole-Tott collection of the University of California–Santa Barbara library; Matthew Neill at the National Fairground Archive, University of Sheffield, England; and John Woolf.
Lawyers who helped search for case files and/or protected me from misinterpreting them included Paul Lombardo, V. Anne Edenfield, Lori Lord, Nick Leitch, and retired circuit court judges Cliff Weckstein and Diane Strickland.
The month I spent at the MacDowell Colony was crucial to the completion of this book, especially the early feedback from other fellows. Support from the Virginia Foundation for the Humanities boosted my ability to delve into archives near and far; I’m especially grateful to David Bearinger, Jeanne Siler, Jane Kulow, Rob Vaughn, Tucker Lemon, and Margot Lee Shetterly.
For traversing journalism challenges, I’m obliged to my all-star advisory team of Carole Tarrant, Martha Bebinger, Doug Pardue, Annie Jacobsen, Roland Lazenby, Lisa Mullins, Rob Freis, Sue Lindsey, Frosty Landon, Gary Knight, Rob Lunsford, Josh Meltzer, Stephanie Klein-Davis, Ralph Berrier Jr., Dr. Frank Ochberg, Andrea Pitzer, Anna Quindlen, Mary Bishop, Mike Hudson, Laurie Hoffman, Joana Gorjao Henriques, Bill Steiden, Rich and Margaret Martin, and Bob and Nancy Giles.
On the home front, I’d like to thank Will Landon (and apologize for my inability to write with his near-constant whistling), Max Landon, Chloe Landon, Barbara Landon, and Chris Landon; my mom, Sarah Macy Slack, for teaching me to love books; my sister, Terry Vigus, for her dedication to Mom; tireless support from Jean and Scott Whitaker, Lee and Nancy Coleman, Angela Charlton, Sharon Rapoport, Dina and Reggie Bennett, Cheri Storms and Joe Loughmiller, Chris and Connie Henson, Bonny Branch, Frances and Lee West, Libba Wolfe, Dotsy Clifton, Emily and Elizabeth Perkins, and Lezlie and Keno Snyder at Parkway Brewing; and Tom Landon, who steers everything through, steadily, from the idea’s first flush to the final word.
And for never failing to remind me that I didn’t want to be “just another white person stirring up shit,” my deepest regards go to Nancy Saunders. While you didn’t exactly invite me into Dot’s kitchen, you also never quite kicked me out. For that and for your vast mother wisdom about so many things, I will always be in your debt.