When I met the Barnum scholar A. H. Saxon in Bridgeport, Connecticut, in March 2016, I was distracted enough by the tour he gave me of Barnum points of interest in that city—the large seated statue of the man gazing out at Long Island Sound from Seaside Park; Barnum’s grave site in Mountain Grove Cemetery; Saxon’s own collection of Barnum-related art, posters, and memorabilia—that I barely noticed two self-published, spiral-bound notebooks he handed to me. Titled Barnumiana, these books by Saxon are modestly described as “a select, annotated bibliography of works by or relating to P. T. Barnum.” Once I got home and was able to focus on them, I realized what a valuable gift he had offered me, a painstaking work of scholarship enlivened by his strong, witty opinions, and a perfect guide for someone still trying to wrap his arms around the literature by and about Barnum. Saxon’s tour and his bibliography were the first of many acts of generosity that Arthur, as I have come to know him, extended to me as I worked on this book, from telling me where the bodies were buried (and where one particular body was not) to scanning images, thoughtfully reading and annotating a late draft of the book, and always being available, encouraging, and amusing. He did this as he was completing his own final book about Barnum to go with his fine biography and his selected letters of the great showman. The debt I owe him, however, in no way implicates him in any of my book’s shortcomings.
Another formidable Barnum scholar, Neil Harris, whose 1973 book, Humbug, is both a biography and a social and cultural history, suggested as I was contemplating this book that “each generation seems to need its own” new take on Barnum, and offered his encouragement.
Others who encouraged me early on include David Barber, Ann Beattie, Ernest B. Furgurson, George Gibson, Adam Goodheart, David Grogan, Robert Gross, Edward Hoagland, William Howarth, Ann Hulbert, Malcolm Jones, Kitty Kelley, Ralph Keyes, Donald Lamm, Anne Matthews, Richard Moe, Anton Mueller, Cullen Murphy, Richard Nicholls, Richard Snow, and Charles Trueheart.
Later in the process, people who helped with a kind word, a reference, or in some other way include David Brown, Lincoln Caplan, Carol Johnson, Steve Lagerfeld, Kathy Lawrence, Walter Nicklin, Eric Nye, Lincoln Perry, Henry Sloss, Wendy Smith, and Todd Thompson. Brenda Wineapple has, as is her way, propped me up throughout with her gracious encouragement and interest.
Those who offered support from institutions include Kathleen Maher, Adrienne Saint-Pierre, and Tova Clayman from the Barnum Museum; Elizabeth Van Tuyl and Mary Witkowski (retired) from the Bridgeport History Center of the Bridgeport Public Library; Carolle Morini and Mary Warnement of the Boston Athenaeum; Michelle A. Krowl of the Library of Congress; Emily Bell at the Widener Library, Harvard University; Kerry Schauber and Lu Harper of the Memorial Art Gallery, University of Rochester; Pamela S. M. Hopkins of the Tisch Library, Tufts University; Nancy Stula of the William Benton Museum of Art at the University of Connecticut; Francis P. O’Neill of the Maryland Historical Society; and Kimberly Reynolds of the Boston Public Library. My special thanks among these goes to Adrienne Saint-Pierre, who was friendly, helpful, and encouraging over a period of years.
I was lucky to be able to access the online resources of the Sheridan Library at Johns Hopkins University for much of the time I was researching this book. I’m grateful to my friends David Everett and Ed Perlman for making this access possible, and to Elise Levine, Sharon D. Morris, and Feraz Ashraf for their help in extending my eligibility for using this valuable resource. The Library of Congress’s Chronicling America website gave me easy access to nineteenth-century newspapers and the Internet Archive to nineteenth-century books.
John Churchill and Frederick Lawrence, colleagues at the Phi Beta Kappa Society, also offered support and good cheer over the years. Coworkers at The American Scholar—Steve Anderson, Sally Atwater, Stephanie Bastek, Sudip Bose, Sandra Costich, Taylor Curry, Katie Daniels, Bruce Falconer, Margaret Foster, Allen Freeman, and David Herbick—patiently listened to more P. T. Barnum lore than they might ever have thought possible. Thank you for your forbearance and your friendship. My profound thanks go to Sudip Bose for reading a late version of the book closely and offering his wise comments. Noelani Kirschner, a former intern and continuing contributor to the Scholar, helped me immeasurably with fact-checking and photo research. Thank you for your good work, Noelani.
I have many people to thank at Simon & Schuster. First, Jonathan Karp, who acquired the book and offered his enthusiasm throughout. Next, Jonathan Cox, who edited the manuscript with immense energy and care, and did much to improve and focus it. Thanks, too, to Emily Simonson, who has worked with Jon Cox on the final stages of getting the book into print. Mark LaFlaur, a production editor who is himself a writer, made me grateful for his good judgment and conscientiousness, and I thank him and Judith Hoover for their fine copy editing. My gratitude also goes to Will Staehle for the exceptional cover design, to Lewelin Polanco for the handsome interior design, and to the art director, Jackie Seow. I look forward to working with Madeleine Schmitz and Nicole Hines on the publicity and marketing of the book.
Sarah Chalfant of The Wylie Agency has represented me for nearly two decades. Having her standing so ably beside me has been tremendously reassuring, and she and Rebecca Nagel have done so much to make this book happen. Thank you both for your determination, intelligence, and efficiency.
Many of those mentioned above are my friends, but a few friends who have lived this book with me day in and day out include Steve Goodwin, Russ Powell, and Jon Wist. Jon is also creating a website for the book. Melanie and Bill Hinzman offered frequent dips in their pool and other forms of liquid refreshment to look forward to. My thanks to all of them. Two friends for much of my life as a grown-up died as I was at work on this book. For nearly four decades, Cheryl Merser was always there on the phone or through email. Mario Pellicciaro, whom I have known since I was an undergraduate, was wise, modest, faithful, and full of good cheer, the best possible friend. This book is dedicated in part to his memory.
Thanks to my sister, Laurie Kelly, and my sisters-in-law, Charlotte Gatto and Susan Barritt. My sons, Matt, Cole, and Sam Wilson, remain a source of tremendous joy and pride. The latter two have enriched our lives by marrying well, to Shannon Welch and Sameen Ahmadnia, respectively, and now each of these wonderful women has produced an adorable child. I also dedicate this book to those two infants, Leyli and Lars, and to their grandmother, Martha, with whom I would eagerly share another lifetime.