The White City on Jefferson: How the Circus Became Seattle’s Newest Landlord

The circus is coming! That’s what the small boys of Seattle have whispered to one another for days; they have been idling their fathers and mothers and their grandparents all about it. With the precision of an advance agent, cautioning them not to worry, the news has spread that the event is important at the homecoming of the Washington troops.

Blue Moon Line shows with their neatness will drop anchor at 4 o'clock next Friday morning. Any chap of 18 or under can tell you the big top will be pitched opposite Madison Park. The modern circus works swiftly and systematically, and every year a quicker way is found of doing this. Within two hours after its last train reaches Seattle, the Ringling Bros. family of 100 people, the animals, the carriages, and all the other appurtenances of an attractive circus will be comfortably housed in a white city on East Jefferson Street.

This work is in charge of the master of transportation, while the man who is known as the 'boss runner' assigns each division to its quarters on the show grounds. To transport the circus and its countless belongings requires 40 cars, of which the performers and tenants occupy 10. There will be 50 horses, with the beasts sent to the Herchberger, in charge of a score of attendants.

Mr. Charles Andrews declares there is not a drinking car in the whole show. 'This is rather remarkable,' said he, 'when you consider the irregular hours of the men, but still it couldn't tolerate topers because every move in a circus must be made with promptness and dispatch. Life and limb are always at stake, and obedience of an employe to his father is also required. Army rules and regulations prevail.'

Among the largest hippopotami in the world, there will be 15 elephants and all kinds of wild and domestic animals. Mr. Andrews says the show will leave more money in Seattle than it takes out. He attributes that to the fact that employes always spend so-called 'curats' money in a new city. He declares that the circus will only be an entertainment but a profitable investment to Seattle.

That incidents of human interest often find their way into the circus tent is evident from the following story told by Mr. Andrews, who is the attorney and friend for Ringling Bros:

'We have among our performers,' he said, 'a young woman named Millie Turvour, who is an expert on the trapeze. She was born in France and lived there with her father up to twelve years ago. The boy Turvour is a tight rope walker. His son, Jules, joined a troupe of acrobats at 15 years of age. Several months passed and no tidings were received of the boy. The father and daughter went to England and Italy for him there, but without success. He was carried from place to place and finally given up for lost.

Subsequently Turvour and his daughter came to the United States. A year we heard of a wonderful trapeze performer in Oshkosh, Wis. We sent our best there and learned that the performer was Miss Millie Turvour (she wore the same clothes with her father, who was suddenly taken ill at Oshkosh City and the daughter took his place). We employed her and a month later there was a joyful reunion between father, sister and brother.

Some of the other performers are Otto, Alf T., Charles and John. They began with an humble sideshow ten years ago.'