Short History Of... - The Real Greatest Showman

Episode Date: April 13, 2025

PT Barnum may be better known as the loose subject of the movie The Greatest Showman, but his life was so much more than that work of fiction. A master of entertainment, an entrepreneur, and a genius of publicity, he built a career on feeding public curiosity with his grand illusions.  But his legacy is complicated, as many of his attractions reflect a world where sensationalism outweighed morality. His methods, viewed through a modern lens, raise troubling questions about the exploitation of show business. So how did PT Barnum beat the odds, time and again, to turn a spectacle into an empire? How did a fake mermaid, a tiny general, and giant elephant help make his name? And behind all the smoke and mirrors, was he really the Greatest Showman on Earth?  This is a Short History Of The Real Greatest Showman. A Noiser Production, written by Sean Coleman. With thanks to Kathleen Maher, Executive Director of the Barnum Museum in Bridgeport, Connecticut.  Get every episode of Short History Of a week early with Noiser+. You’ll also get ad-free listening, bonus material, and early access to shows across the Noiser network. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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It's spring, 1844, in London, England. In the corridor outside the Queen's Picture Gallery in Buckingham Palace, a tall man paces nervously. Beyond a grand pair of doors, the Queen of England waits to be entertained. And this man, P.T. Barnum, showman and promoter extraordinaire, has an act that's fast becoming the talk of London's high society. For the last 20 minutes, he's been receiving a crash course in royal etiquette from the gentleman Usher who is still fussing around him. He's been briefed on titles,

warned not to talk to the Queen directly, and shown how to bow correctly. Apparently, even leaving the room must be done slowly and backwards, facing her majesty at all times. It's a lot for the tall American to take in, but he has to get this meeting right. A royal endorsement will catapult their fame and fortune to new heights. For his small companion standing proudly nearby, no such rules apply. The Queen has declared that General Tom Thumb, as he's known to the public, should be spared the rigor of royal protocol. She wants to meet the young entertainer just as he is.

entertainer just as he is. General Tom Thumb, the man in miniature, is in fact neither a general nor an adult man. He's a six-year-old boy called Charles Stratton. But admitting that would detract from the astounding show Barnum is about to present. Uncommonly talented, even at this young age, Tom Thumb's dwarfism means he stands just two foot tall and weighs only around 15 pounds. Small he may be, but he's as bright as a button and brimming with confidence. Wearing a bespoke military suit,

complete with a general's cap and a small cane tucked smartly under his arm, he puffs out his chest and nods. He's ready to meet the Queen. Finally, the doors are flung open. The boy strides confidently into the long, elegant, high-ceilinged room with its grand chandeliers and gilded moldings, and heads directly towards his royal audience. Queen Victoria, 25 years old and seven years into her reign, stands beside her husband, Prince Albert,

with one of the royal spaniels at their feet. Alongside them are about 20 other members of the nobility. Their faces light up with delight, as they finally lay eyes on the nobility. Their faces light up with delight as they finally lay eyes on the tiny star. Oblivious to the priceless painting surrounding him, Tom Thumb stops his march, bows low, and defies all protocol by calling, Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, in his youthful, high-pitched voice. The royal court erupts in peals of laughter, which spurs the child on.

With his cane tucked under his arm, he marches to and fro, performing his songs, skits, and impressions. Each turn is greeted with more merriment than the last. Each turn is greeted with more merriment than the last. When the show is over, the Queen takes Tom Thumb's hand and guides him around the room, firing off question after curious question, enchanted by his savvy, humorous responses. The meeting has been a resounding success, But now it's time to leave.

Barnum, under pains to remember his protocols, backs away. Tom Thumb copies. But even with Barnum moving slowly, Tom's legs are too short to match his pace. Every time he's left behind, he turns and runs to catch up before resuming the formal, backward stepping. The royal party are in stitches, but the combination of hilarity and running proves too much for the Queen's spaniel, who sets off in pursuit of the tiny general, yapping enthusiastically.

Unperturbed, Tom Thumb levels his little cane, cane and mock fences his way out with a dog hot on his heels in that visit general Tom Thumb wins a lifelong fan in Queen Victoria and ensures that he becomes a household name in every manor, palace and theatre across Europe and from there the world. As for the man who launched his act, P.T. Barnum is about to take centre stage as the greatest showman on earth. P.T. Barnum may be better known as the loose subject of the movie, The Greatest Showman, but his life was so much more than that work of fiction. A master of entertainment, an entrepreneur, and a genius of publicity,

he built a career on feeding public curiosity with his grand illusions. Whether through his museums filled with oddities, his remarkable performances, or the dazzling appeal of the circus, he mastered the art of giving people what they didn't know they wanted, leaving a legacy that shapes entertainment to this day. But that legacy is complicated. Many of his attractions, from his human curiosities to exotic animals, reflect a 19th century world where sensationalism often outweighed morality. Some of his methods, viewed through a modern lens raised difficult questions about

exploitation and the ethical cost of show business. But how did he beat the odds time and again to turn a spectacle into an empire? How did a fake mermaid, a tiny general, and a giant elephant help make his name? And behind all the smoke and mirrors, was he really the greatest showman on Earth? I'm John Hopkins from the Noiser Network. This is a short history of P.T. Barnum, the real greatest showman. On the 5th of July, 1810, just after the United States has celebrated its 34th Independence Day, Phineas Taylor Barnum, or P.T., is born in Bethel, Connecticut.

The America he's born into is young but ambitious. Hardened by westward expansion, it is still defining its place on the world stage, and once more on the brink of conflict, as tensions over British interference set the stage for the War of 1812. The Barnum family is humble but comfortable. They're a hard working bunch with a reasonable share of land in Bethel, where P.T.'s father also runs a small general store and tavern. While young Barnum has access to opportunities, he's certainly expected to work to make the

most of them. Kathleen Maher is executive director of the Barnum Museum in Bridgeport, Connecticut. He is not a poor child. His mother's family owned most of this community in Bethel. They owned the shops and the land. So I wouldn't say he's well to do, but again, there isn't much of a hierarchy in American society as we understand it today. So he grows up in a community where he has access to some education, learning mathematics and reading and writing. But he demonstrates at a very young age that he had an extraordinary aptitude for calculation in mathematics.

Young Barnum often uses mental arithmetic, or what he calls headwork, as a way of escaping the tedium of his farming chores. While he doesn't enjoy the farm, he soon learns how to make a business of it. By 12, he owns a sheep and a calf and sells homemade cherry rum to soldiers as a side hustle. And it's around this age when he's hired to help herd a cattle drive to New York in what will be a life-defining adventure for him. With several days to spend enjoying the city, he is mesmerized by its vibrant energy. It's a world of ambition, entertainment, and, most importantly, opportunity, just waiting to be seized.

Back home, things are less exciting. Approaching adulthood, he takes on some work in a town store in nearby Danbury, but doesn't settle, and returns to Bethel to live with his grandfather. He now establishes his own store, selling ale, snacks, dry goods, and other sundries. And he also finds stability in his personal life. In 1829, at just 19, he weds Charity Hallett, whom he describes as being the best woman a man could ever hope to marry.

He also takes his grandfather's advice and begins supplementing his income selling lottery tickets. Starting small, he acts as an agent for other stores in the area. But he quickly sees that he could make a lot more by managing his own lottery. So he does just that. Using bold advertising and enticing giveaways to promote his scheme, he makes sure that ticket sales far outweigh any prize on offer. The money rolls in, but it also attracts some criticism. Though his lotteries are perfectly legal, local religious leaders condemn his promotion

of gambling, and a newspaper editor writes an article calling him a bad influence on the town. No stranger to fighting his own corner, Barnum writes a number of scathing rebuttals to these criticisms. But when they're refused for publication, he once more takes matters into his own hands. He buys his own press and launches a fiery, politically charged newspaper, The Herald of Freedom, in which he lambasts religion, politics and authority in general. It's not long before these vocal attacks land him in hot water

and he finds himself facing several libel charges. In one particularly scathing article, he claims that a local businessman's money lending is exploiting poor people, especially farmers. This time, the libel charge that follows sticks, and Barnum is sentenced to a brief spell in jail. Though he continues to edit his paper from behind bars, it's a salutary lesson for him. Not long after he is released, Connecticut bans lotteries altogether, and Barnum's income stream is suddenly cut short. Even so, his ventures have at least taught him the thrill of a quick profit, the power of a good story, and of course, that people will happily pay for a chance at the dream. But with a wife and now a young daughter to support,

Barnum can't afford to sit still. He moves the family to New York, where the opportunities seem more plentiful. In New York, he takes on a series of odd jobs, turning his hand to anything that pays. He even works as a showman for hire, promoting small acts. And then he finds an opportunity that changes everything. He's introduced to a frail, elderly black woman called Joyce Heff. When P.T. Barnum had heard about Joyce Heff's performance, it was a time in his life, this is 1835,

where he was looking to move into becoming an entertainer and emerging into what's today called the show business. A sideshow promoter called R.W. Lyman has been presenting Joyce as the 161-year-old former nurse of George Washington. He says he has the paperwork to prove she was born in 1674 and bought as a slave by Washington's father in 1727. In truth, she was likely born into slavery sometime around the 1750s and spent most of her life under various owners in an existence marked by hardship,

exploitation and precious little self-determination. Joyce has already gained her freedom before meeting Barnum, but this means little for an elderly black woman in the early 19th century. Her ability to earn her keep is still controlled by white men. Spying an opportunity and knowing his own promotion skills to be far superior to Lyman's, Barnum negotiates a deal with a sideshow man to take Joyce on as a performer. He actually negotiated the short-term lease to continue her performance in this part of

the world. She wasn't billed as a slave. She was billed and fascinated people by the fact that she was 161 years old and would put George Washington as a baby on her lap and sing him hymns and tunes and teach him. That was the fascination and that's what people wanted to see. The story is outrageous and many are unconvinced. In fact, one detractor claims that Joyce is actually an automaton, a remarkable machine, and that Barnum would be better off promoting that. Whether Barnum trusts the claims of her age or not,

the potential for amazement is undeniable, and people will pay up just to see for themselves. For her part, Joyce certainly looks incredibly old. She is nearly blind, half paralyzed after a previous stroke, and very frail. But her act is well rehearsed, and she entertains the crowds with stories of Little George and warbles songs from the olden days. Barnum throws his all into promoting her as the most astonishing curiosity in the world, doling out handbills across the state. The promotion works.

There was a whole tour that was set up that went to Boston all over Connecticut, you know, into Rhode Island and the halls because Barnum knew how to get people to come to these attractions and they filled the theaters where she was actually performing and engaging with the audiences and singing and she did look like she could have possibly been by all accounts as old as she was you know her body was fra you know, her skin was very wrapped on her bones, but she could sing. While it's impossible to know exactly how Joyce feels about performing, it's clear that she isn't the one profiting from her newfound fame.

Barnum looks after her, gives her room and board, and employs a lady's maid to care for her. But ultimately, it's he who takes the profits. Just a few months into their tour, Joyce passes away from natural causes, likely exacerbated by the rigors of life on the road. After her death, a public autopsy finally reveals the truth. She was no more than 80 years old. Unusual enough for a woman of the time, but not as miraculous as she was presented to be. There have been claims since that Barnum capitalizes further by selling tickets to the autopsy,

but there is no proof of this, and the story appears to have been created by someone keen for some fame of their own. There was a public autopsy and it was control. There was media allowed in. There were students, there were surgeons, and there was clergy. That's it. That's who went to Joyce Hubb's autopsy. What is certain, though, is that Barnum organized for Joyce to have a proper burial and a grave at which she could be remembered. And rather than retreating after the hoax is revealed, Barnum leans into the controversy. He even hints that the autopsy itself might have been a hoax, staged to undermine him. The ongoing scandal keeps the public fascinated, proving that any publicity is

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With Joyce gone, Barnum finds his next big adventure in the shape of a struggling museum in the heart of New York City. Scudder's American Museum is a dilapidated, poorly maintained institution with dusty, outdated exhibits and little to draw the crowds in. But Barnum sees potential. He leverages everything he has to buy the museum for $12,000,

just under $400,000 today. To secure the final settlement, he even reuses a little trick that was played on him as a child. At his christening, his grandfather presented him with the gift of some land called Ivy Island. Growing up believing he was a landowner, he was aged 12 before he finally visited it, only to find it was worthless swampland. But when it comes to buying the American Museum, it also happens to be the only piece of unmortgaged land Barnum can put up as surety. He negotiates with the bankers with a piece of property that he owns called Ivy Island

because he knows that no one is going to make the journey in 1840 in the winter to schlep all the way up to Bethel, Connecticut to really assess the property value. And so he uses the trick that was, you know, perpetrated on him as a child to navigate his way into what ultimately becomes the beginning of the brand, the icon that we know P.T. Barnum is. As a new and culturally emerging nation,

America is not accustomed to amusements for all the family. Public entertainment is largely male-driven. It's rowdy, often violent. There is drinking and prostitution. It's no place for women and children. On January 1, 1842, Barnum challenges all of this by opening his museum on Lower Broadway. A place for family entertainment, enlightenment, and instructive amusement, Barnum's American Museum presents fine arts, music, literature, and at the same time incredible marvels of

nature, showcasing so-called natural curiosities alongside his artistic and historic exhibitions. These curiosities are the wonderful performers already trading off their unique oddities. Whether they be giants or dwarves, albinos, conjoined twins or even a living skeleton, they're more than happy to join Barnum. After all he pays well, offers board and lodgings and, thanks to his clever advertising, an endless stream of visitors. From 1842 until 1865, the American Museum grows into an enormous enterprise, with 850,000 exhibits spread over four linked buildings. It boasts a waxworks with effigies of famous people,

an aquarium, a zoo, a theater, and exhibitions from working panoramas of Niagara Falls to ivory carvers, glass blowers, musicians, and ballerinas. All there to entertain and educate the masses. Barnum's mission statement early on was instructive entertainment. There was an entire wax display life-size of the Last Supper on display that people could see.

But there were also demonstrations of sewing machines. There were perfumeries. There were ventriloquists that would engage with people. There were automaton. Barnum absolutely was fascinated with mechanical wonders. It really becomes one of the first science centers in this country as well, because you could actually experience automaton

that were coming from France. Barnum's museum offers the chance to explore the irrational, incredible, and downright unbelievable, and all for just 25 cents admission. chance to explore the irrational, incredible, and downright unbelievable, and all for just 25 cents admission. Among the legitimate exhibits are a number of other less genuine, but far more exotic natural wonders. One which draws huge attention is a curiosity billed by Barnum

as the preserved remains of a mermaid found off the coast of Fiji. In reality, the Fiji mermaid is a grotesque mummy, a petrified mashup of a monkey's head and torso sewn onto the body of a fish created by a Chinese artisan. onto the body of a fish created by a Chinese artisan. But the crowds flood in nonetheless. And the museum is only the beginning of his astonishing presentations. On his travels, searching for exhibits, auditors, and curiosities, Barnum meets an unusual young boy

who will change his fortune forever. In the November of 1842, Barnum stops to visit his brother, Philo, in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Barnum's brother said, you have to meet this little boy in town. He's charming. He can sing, he can dance. It's like he's just a wonder here. And he might be interesting at the American Museum.

And Barnum was like, really? He meets the Stratton family. Charles Stratton is the name of the little boy. And he was all that and more. He was, by today's standards, a child star. Just four years old, Charles Stratton has a form of dwarfism, which means he'll grow no more than 25 inches tall and weigh only 15 pounds.

And even at this young age, he's performing song and dance routines and demonstrating a precocious talent. Recognizing his potential, Barnum arranges to hire Charles from his parents for $3 a week. He also offers room, board, and travel for the boy and his mother while in New York. And then Barnum sets to work creating a legend. Renaming Charles General Tom Thumb the man in miniature, Barnum bills him as an 11-year-old recently arrived from England.

He reasons that even though Tom Thumb is remarkably small, people will find his size less incredible in a four-year-old. Barnum trains him in the art of performance and puts him on the stage. He is an instant hit in New York, and after the first month, Barnum more than doubles Tom's salary. Another raise soon follows, bringing Tom a staggering $25 a week, the equivalent of about a thousand today. Barnum now arranges a tour of England, where Tom is given several audiences with Queen

Victoria and the royal family, as well as many crowned heads of state. And it was an astonishing success. The Queen, although Queen Victoria does write in one of her many journals that she felt sorry for the little boy, they were enchanted by his charm and his humor, and then had so much notoriety that they traveled through France, Germany, Belgium, up into Scotland, meeting all crown heads of state, you know, leaders from all of these places that just lent itself to this extraordinary story.

extraordinary story. In Europe, Tom Thumb performs for sellout crowds, playing a host of costumed characters from Samson to Napoleon and figures from ancient Greece. In France, Barnum even persuades King Louis-Philippe to allow Tom's little carriage, pulled by the smallest Shetland ponies and accompanied by a dwarf footman, to join the royal procession for the Fête de la Concorde parade in 1844. The whimsical sight of the miniature nobleman in his tiny but elegant coach duly delights the crowds.

By the time they return to the United States, both are forever changed by the experience. Richer, better traveled, and with a real understanding of how to put on a show. Though their partnership has made them both famous, Barnum now steps back from the show and strikes a new deal that gives the boy and his father control of the act. Charles Stratton continues to tour, drawing huge crowds. The little boy from Bridgeport has become an international celebrity and a lifelong friend to his former promoter. Okay, Martin, let's try one. Remember, big. You got it. The Ford It's a Big Deal event is on. How's that?

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Choose from a world of destinations, if you can. Air Canada. Nice travels. By the end of the 1840s, P.T. Barnum is one of the wealthiest men in the country. But his adventures are far from over. In fact, he is about to seal his reputation as a formidable promoter. Having mastered the art of the spectacle, Barnum now sets his sights on something a little different. He wants another tour, but this time with an entertainer of global renown,

with a following built not on oddity, but on pure talent. That entertainer is Jenny Lind. Born in Sweden in 1820, Lind is 29 years old and already one of Europe's most celebrated sopranos. She has been performing professionally since her teenage years, and is acclaimed not only for her exceptional voice, but also her charitable nature. Though Barnum's never heard her sing, he's learned of her on his European tour, and if anyone understands the marketing power of a good reputation, it's him. He sets about persuading her to come to America and let him run her tour.

And though she already has offers from promoters more respected in high society circles, Jenny Lind is a pragmatic kind of woman. She does her research and finds that, far from being the dime show hype man his detractors claim, P.T. Barnum is an incredible promoter. And he pays very well indeed. He absolutely had the intuitive skill of marketing and promotion. And because his name slowly becomes iconic in the world, you know, becoming a living legend that the world, everybody will think about P.T. Barnum and load all types of credit on him because his name carries forward. Barnum offers no less than $1,000 a night for a 150-night tour. Even better, he's the only potential promoter offering the whole fee upfront.

And that's because Barnum is intent on changing not only his own reputation, but the reputation of entertainment in America. What always comes to the surface is Barnum's idea of just making sure whatever he does gives people the opportunity to experience something they wouldn't have otherwise had and let them find joy in whatever that might be. That transcends borders. That transcends nationalities and language. Though famous throughout Europe, Jenny Lind is not wealthy. Barnum's offer gives her the perfect opportunity to both reach new audiences

and fund her dream of building a music academy for girls in Stockholm. She accepts his proposal. But even for him, $150,000 is a hefty sum. Though he mortgages everything, calls in favors and takes out loans, it's still not enough. So he sells advanced tickets for the tour and uses the funds to make up the shortfall. Finally, the deal is done. Jenny Lind is coming to America. Now he has to make sure every venue is filled.

I often think of what Barnum must have had. So his hands must have always just been stained with black ink with the amount of writing that he did to keep all of this going. And Barnum also knew to send advancement to the communities where they were going to start peppering the public mind and getting people ready. If you wanted to go see a performance, you're getting your carriage ready, your horses ready to make what could potentially be a day's journey, you know, to go see something like this. It was a serious commitment.

The first concert scheduled to take place at Castle Garden in New York City quickly sells out. On September 11, 1850, more than 5,000 ticket holders stream in, with thousands more crowded outside. Lind quickly wins over the American audiences, and by the end of the New York engagement alone, the concerts have generated over $87,000. But the relentless schedule and Barnum's doggyed promotion of her proved too much for Miss Lind. In 1851, after 93 performances, the exhausted singer buys out the remaining contract for $25,000 and takes control of the tour. Parting ways amicably, both have secured their legacies. Lind as one of the most beloved singers of the era, and Barnum as the ultimate master of hype.

With the museum all but running itself, and two successful tours under his belt, Barnum now has the financial security to explore his other passions, politics, temperance, and philanthropy. He invests heavily in the growing industrial town of Bridgeport, Connecticut, where he has recently settled his family. There he helps develop parks, infrastructure, and his own extravagant Moorish-styled mansion, Iranistan, which he bases on the Brighton Pavilion in South England. which he bases on the Brighton Pavilion in South England. Then in 1855, he takes a gamble by investing in a failing local business,

the Jerome Clock Company. But though he hopes to turn it around, the company collapses. When Barnum makes a very atypical calculation and tries to industrialize the town of Bridgeport, not quite a city yet. He wanted to really make it an industrial hub and invite different types of businesses to come and really have the city emerge as second to New York City with industrial manufacturing, diversified communities and technology and utilities. He actually goes into incredible debt with one of the companies he negotiates, and he loses everything. He has to mortgage the American Museum, he loses his family house.

To recover his losses, he embarks on a nationwide lecture tour, sharing his philosophy on success and perseverance, and promoting the Temperance Movement's principles of sobriety. By the early 1860s, as the country descends into civil war, he is rebuilt his fortune and finds himself elected to the Connecticut General Assembly. Once there he advocates, amongst other things, the abolition of slavery. But just after the war ends and with his reputation riding high, Barnum is about to find out that fortune is a fickle and unpredictable mistress. It's around noon on July the 13th, 1865.

A young lad skips along the sidewalk enjoying the summer breeze. A precious quarter clutched tight in his hand. The admission fee for Barnum's American Museum and the tickets to a full day of fun and adventure. As he reaches the corner of Broadway and Anne in lower Manhattan, he sees a crowd gathering outside the museum. Not unusual, the museum is often busy. But today, something's amiss. Sure enough, as he reaches the building, a horse-drawn fire wagon clatters past.

Immediately, the crew of volunteer firefighters leap out to man the pumps. The air is already thick with the acrid stench of burning and smoke curls from the basement windows, twisting up into the summer sky. Barnum's American Museum is on fire. The boy stares up in dismay as the flames break free, licking at the facade. The crowd swells, drawn by a mixture of horror and fascination as the boy looks on helplessly. From inside the museum

come the sounds of chaos and panic. Heat swells and bursts the display cases. The boy staggers back as windows pop from their frames, sending shards to the pavements below. Curators and staff spill onto the street, choking on smoke, ushering terrified visitors out of the building. Those who've escaped join the throng on the sidewalk. But there's nothing anyone can do.

The museum will surely be lost. Those who've escaped join the throng on the sidewalk, but there's nothing anyone can do. The museum will surely be lost. And then the boy hears the worst. The screams of frightened animals pierce through the crackle of flames. The volunteer firefighters' shouts are barely audible over the roar of the inferno, as they're joined by more willing helpers passing buckets hand to hand in a chain. Their efforts to douse the blaze are heroic, but ineffective. Without warning, the fire leaps upward,

devouring floors with astonishing speed. Gas lamps pop and explode, fueling the flames with cascades of burning oil. A firefighter pushes the boy back, just as a section of the roof caves in, sending embers spiraling into the sky. They can only watch as Barnum's groundbreaking museum succumbs to the flames. But at this pivotal moment, the man himself is far away from New York, just about to address the Connecticut General Assembly on the issue of railroads. Not that he could have done anything to stop the blaze, even if he had been here.

In less than an hour, it's all over. The museum is reduced to smoldering ruins, the last remnants of its curiosities buried beneath ash and rubble. On the street outside, the boy sits forlornly gripping his 25 cents in his dusty hand. A singed feather floats down to land in front of him. It's all lost. But how on earth did this happen? And what will become of the great showman now? What was discovered was because Barnum was such a public figure for the Union cause during the Civil

War and he aligned with Lincoln, he's one of the first Republicans with Lincoln and Horace Greeley, he basically has the biggest profile in New York City at that time. A year before the fire broke out, there was an arson hit list that went around by Southern sympathizers. And the American Museum was on that list. There were no lives lost, thank goodness. It's reported that there were no lives lost. The animals, of course, were not as fortunate.

There were whale tanks. There was no way to save all of the animals. So it was a tragedy. The first act of terrorism in New York City. Of course, Barnum tries to rebuild. He opens a second museum, but a boiler explosion destroys that one in 1868. The third museum doesn't even get to open before it, too, burns down. It is not an accident that P.T. Barnum is one of the founding members

of the New York City Municipal Fire Department. I am not kidding. Even by the time the second museum fire hits, Barnum is feeling deflated. Maybe he should cut his losses and retire, spend some time with his wife and family back in Bridgeport. In need of a break, in 1870 Barnum heads west for a little R&R. Little does he know that rather than rest and recuperation, its rebirth and reinvention

he'll find there. On his trip, Barnum spends time in the emerging national parks. While he's out there, he's approached by two Midwestern circus managers with an interesting proposal. Circus men W.C. Coupe and his partner Dan Castello put their grand idea to Barnum. Why not take the wonderment of his museum and add it to the thrill of their circus? Unlike the small, single-ring circuses they've been touring America with, this would be a massive multi-ring production, featuring exotic animals, daring acrobats, and jaw-dropping curiosities, all housed under a colossal tent. Their plan is to create a traveling wonderland, designed to stun and amaze audiences across

the country. And they'll call it what it is, the greatest show on earth. Barnum's long-standing affection for his American museum is instantly reignited. He enthusiastically recruits many of his old performers and hunts out new, exciting acts to join the show. While New York City is the ideal place to launch his grand new venture, Barnum faces a small but irritating obstacle. Having previously leased his name to another museum proprietor, he's now bound by a non-compete clause that bars him from opening in Manhattan.

His solution? If he can't debut the greatest show on Earth in New York, he'll do it just across the river in Manhattan. His solution? If he can't debut the greatest show on earth in New York, he'll do it just across the river in Brooklyn. And so, at the age of 60, Barnum launches yet another venture. And when the greatest show on earth starts touring in the early 1870s, it's an instant sensation. By 1874, his non-compete clause is out of the way and the greatest show on earth is thriving. So Barnum decides that as well as continuing to tour, the show should have a permanent base too.

The show does extremely well and Barnum always wants to go back to the idea of having a permanent home. And he winds up going back to Vanderbilt and leases the trolley barn at 26, 27th Street Madison Avenue, reskins it and opens the Hippodrome, Barnum's Roman Hippodrome. And that's where the greatest show on earth was installed. So there was a museum component, they had an animatronics or automata rather, exhibits and displays going on. So there were science as well as

a huge ring that were for chariot races and running races and all types of entertainment. In April, he opens the New York Hippodrome, later to be known as Madison Square Garden, a vast public amusement space. With seating for over 10,000 and a staggering build cost of $150,000, it's a venue as grand as Barnum's ambitions. TITANIC SHIP OF DREAMS Titanic Ship of Dreams, the new podcast from the award-winning Noiza Network. Join me, Paul McGann, as we explore life and death on Titanic. I'll delve into my own family story following my great-uncle Jimmy as he tries to escape the engine room.

We'll hear the harrowing tales of the victims and the testimonies of the lucky survivors. I saw that ship sink and I saw that ship breaking off. Titanic Ship of Dreams. Listen wherever you get your podcasts. While the Hippodrome provides the grand stage for his large-scale production, his true genius is still in taking that same energy on the road. He seems to prefer the logistical challenge of moving an enormous show, wagons, animals, performers, and all town to town, ensuring that people from New York

to the Midwest and beyond can experience his magic firsthand. Yet even at the height of the show's success, Barnum spies a further opportunity. By 1880, another extravaganza, the great London Circus managed by James A. Bailey, is taking the world by storm. Though the show has no connection to London, the savvy promoter knows that a European city in your name adds grandeur and sparkle. Shrewd and ambitious, Bailey has spent years perfecting his travelling circus. He is known for his precision, organisation and an eye for grand productions. And right now, his great London Circus is becoming a serious competitor to Barnum's

greatest show on earth. Rather than compete with him, Barnum sees an opportunity. At last, he declares, I have Barnum and London Circus is born. The show embarks on a staggering 12,000-mile tour, dazzling audiences across the country. For Barnum, it's more than just a business merger. It's the beginning of a partnership that will redefine his show forever. The following season brings even greater success to Barnum and Bailey with the introduction of a giant.

It's the 9th of April, 1882. The docks of New York Harbor are alive with noise and commotion. A dense crowd has gathered, jostling for position, craning their necks for a glimpse of the long-awaited, much-promoted spectacle. Reporters clutch their notebooks, street vendors hawk nuts and drinks, and children sit perched on their adults' shoulders staring out at the water. They're all waiting for one thing, and it's just pulling in. Out in the harbor, the hulking steamship, the Assyrian monarch looms large, her decks bustling with activity.

As she approaches the dock, the moment the crowd has been waiting for arrives. A deep, resonant trumpet echoes across the water. Gasps ripple through the onlookers. There, swaying uneasily, his massive bulk barely contained by the wooden crate around him is the giant African elephant that Barnum and Bailey have recently acquired for their show. His crate has an opening at the top of the front side, big enough for his huge head to half protrude, his trunk waving to and fro, sniffing the unfamiliar air. Along the side of the crate, the words Monster Elephant are painted above his name in capitals, Jumbo.

On the dock side, a team of 16 horses is already harnessed up, waiting for the enormous cargo they'll pull through the streets of New York. As the ship creaks to a stop, the dock workers secure the gangway and the excited crowd vies for a better view. Now the difficult process of unloading begins. The crate is already mounted on solid metal wheels, and the dock workers, handlers and boatmen now all hurry to remove the chocks holding them still and clear the space on the dock where the crate will land. James Bailey is there at the front of the crowd, overseeing every move with his usual

sharp-eyed meticulousness. Jumbo is not the first elephant in their menagerie, but he's certainly the biggest and already, the most popular. While P.T. Barnum may not be present for the arrival, the showman's influence is everywhere. From the colossal effort to bring Jumbo to New York, the public fury in London at his sail, the will-he-won't-he struggle of getting the anxious beast into the huge crate and onto the ship, it's all been a dream for publicity. And Barnum's press agents have ensured that this is not just the transfer of an animal, it is an event, a sensation.

On the ship, the giant dockside cranes are swung into place, their ropes attached to the crate. Inside, poor seasick Jum their ropes attached to the crate. Inside, poor seasick Jumbo, accustomed to the routine of the London Zoo, seems bewildered by the noise, the smells, the movement. He lets out another throaty call. As his crate is hoisted into the air, pulleys creaking under the strain. At last, Jumbo's crate lands on American soil and is quickly attached to the waiting horses. The crowd erupts in cheers, flocking alongside the carriage

as it's drawn away from the dock and into the city. The legend of the world's largest elephant is officially born. Buying Jumbo is one of Barnum and Bailey's greatest triumphs. Standing over 11.5 feet tall and weighing 6.5 tons, it's not long before Jumbo becomes the fascination of America. And after only six weeks in the United States, Jumbo's appearances have grossed over $300,000. Originally named Jumby, meaning Chief in Swahili, his anglicized name will be synonymous with the word Giant for the rest of time.

Jumbo is Barnum and Bailey's major attraction for over three years, until the elephant's accidental death after being struck by a train in Ontario, Canada in 1885. His demise marks the end of an era, but the show goes on. Barnum's knack for promotion and Bailey's expert management mean that they've created something which will outlive them both. In 1887, for the first time, Barnum agrees to relinquish control of the show's management, dividing the business into an equal partnership. The show now becomes the Barnum and Bailey's greatest show on Earth.

It's only the last handful of years of Barnum's life, but he entrusted James Bailey to carry his name and legacy forward. You know, there was certainly a trust there. And that was huge. That was a huge step for Barnum, that he could finally rest. Now, aged 80, Barnum's health is failing, and he's beginning to show signs of slowing down. As the spring of 1891 begins, he suffers a stroke, and a few days later, on April the 9th, P. T. Barnum dies.

The man who has dazzled the world for decades has finally left the stage. Bailey continues running the greatest show on earth for many years, and then when he dies of pneumonia in 1906, the Ringling Brothers, known for their own successful circus, purchase Barnum and Bailey, creating the legendary Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus. So it's not until Barnum is dead, 28 years do you actually see for the first time Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey, the greatest show on Earth. Had Barnum been alive, he never would have agreed to second billing. Never, never, never.

The brothers now with the monopoly bring the circus to new heights with larger-than-life performances and even bigger tents. The show becomes an iconic part of American culture until its final performance in 2017, when the Ringling Brothers Circus closes its doors after more than a century of entertaining audiences. Though the era of the grand traveling circus has long since passed, P.T. Barnum's influence on the world of entertainment and show business is undeniable. From the modern-day performances influenced by his success to the highly fictionalized retelling of his story in the Hollywood blockbuster The Greatest Showman, his legacy endures. Through a modern lens, many of Barnum's practices, his promotion of so-called human curiosities,

his questionable attitude to the truth and the exploitation of animals, cast a shadow over his showmanship. The very things that built his empire also raise uncomfortable questions about ethics and entertainment. Questions that resonate today. But through triumph and failure, fortune and ruin, Barnum's true genius lay in his ability to spark awe and wonder. And through all the highs and lows, the man once called the greatest showman

remained at heart a storyteller. A man who knew that sometimes all the world needs is a little joy, a little magic, and a whole lot of show. It's remarkable to see somebody able to reflect on their own life and their own shortcomings. There are moments in his autobiography, particularly during the time that he loses all his money, falls into bankruptcy, that he's hard on himself and truly believes that he deserves what he got. And that's sobering for all of us today.

And that's also a message that we try to carry forward at the museum when we tell his story. It's okay to have trials in your life. You know, you find your best way forward, be grateful for what you have, you know, in front of you, the people around you, and find the best way forward, be grateful for what you have, you know, in front of you, the people around you, and find the best path forward. Next time on Short History of Willbring You, a short history of the Egyptian Sphinx. I love the Sphinx because it's just such a fun, mad, insane monument where you've got this big giant lion with a human head. And I love to go and see the paint on it still.

And I really wish the nose was still there because you would get a much better sense of it. But the eye line and the eyes and then the fact that the paint is there, you think what kind of brushes were they using? Were they using rollers or what? And how many people were employed? And was it something that people regularly did during the fourth dynasty as sort of say, okay, three months on,

Moscow paint the face of the Sphinx. And were there special teams for this? So looking at the Sphinx and were there special teams for this. So looking at the Sphinx it just gives you this insight or a lot of questions about how things were done in ancient Egypt and also it's just such a jolly thing to have. That's next time. If you can't wait a week until the next episode, you can listen to it right away by subscribing to Noiza Plus. Head to www.noiza.com forward slash subscriptions for more information.