The Lost Tribe of Coney Island

by Claire Prentice

  Truman often daydreamed about the grand tour of America he would take his Igorrotes on. But why stop at America? They could soon be performing in front of the King of England in London and at the Presidential Palace in Paris. He felt certain that the tribe’s success at Coney could be replicated anywhere he chose to take them.

  The showman was excited about getting on the road again. He was eager to put some distance between himself and his second wife. He hadn’t told Sallie about Else. He knew he should—he didn’t want her hearing from anyone else. But he had to find the right moment. Sallie had a jealous streak and a mean Irish temper. She had been able to accept the existence of his daughter, Calista. The fact that her mother was no longer alive helped, but if she knew Truman had had another child, especially a son and heir, with yet another woman, she would be crushed. Once they were out of New York, Truman would tell her about Else. Not the truth, of course—he would say they had worked together and she had been infatuated with him. When he had turned down her advances, she had gone mad with rage and had come to New York to seek her revenge. He would claim to have no knowledge of Philip.

  Adele was the only friend of Truman’s in New York who had known Else. He knew he could trust his old friend not to speak to his second wife, or gossip about the past to anyone else. The showman had introduced Adele to Else in the Philippines. The two women had bonded over their European roots but Adele’s loyalties lay with Truman. The pair shared a talent for self-invention and a deep bond based on mutual respect and admiration. When the trouble with Else had first blown up, Truman had toyed with the idea of asking Adele to pay his second wife a visit. Maybe she could gently persuade Else to drop the matter. In the end he had decided against it. Adele was a wealthy, well-connected society lady. It didn’t seem appropriate to involve her.

  The showman awoke from his reverie and noticed his cigar had gone out. He relit it and swept the papers on his desk into a briefcase. Outside he could hear Julio shouting orders. They would be out of Coney by the time it got light. A car in the early morning train to Memphis was reserved and waiting. They would soon leave New York far, far behind them.

  14

  Tall Tales

  MEMPHIS, EARLY SEPTEMBER 1905

  The Elks Lodge at 69–71 Jefferson in Memphis

  TRUMAN ENJOYED MEMPHIS. The city was corrupt and no one tried very hard to hide it. Downtown, dice parlors, gin mills, pool halls, and bawdy houses jostled for attention. The showman had been in Memphis the previous year and he was looking forward to getting reacquainted with the city. Truman’s wit and his ability to spin a yarn won him friends wherever he went, and nowhere more so than in Memphis. He had met a lot of them through the local Elks Lodge, which was famous among members for being a hard-drinking establishment, full of powerful members cutting deals and leveraging their connections.

  But before he started enjoying himself, he needed to get the Igorrotes settled at East End Park. Truman walked through the park grounds, past a red-roofed pavilion nestled in a clump of sycamore trees. Two boys in school caps and blazers chased a liver-spotted hound round and round the pavilion. The park occupied a picturesque spot, popular with picnickers on account of the rolling lawns and pretty views. Truman stopped in front of a handsome structure with a conical dome at each end of the roof. Behind it, a Ferris wheel turned in the distance. He felt as if he were a million miles from New York City. Sallie would love it.

  She had traveled some of the way with Truman and the Igorrotes by train but he had sent her on to Louisville to stay with her family for a while. She missed them all, especially her father and Catherine. Being on the road, changing cities every other week, was no life for a woman in her condition. She needed rest. Her family would look after her. The couple had not parted well, however. On the train from New York, Truman had told Sallie about Else. He’d neglected to mention Philip. Though he was certain Sallie believed his story about Else, the thought of another woman claiming Truman as her own gravely vexed Sallie. She had become sullen and argumentative. When they said good-bye, she was quiet and distant, far from her usual cheerful self.

  He would send her a letter that night, something sentimental. He would beg her to forget about Else. Else was a poisonous woman who had never had any claim on him. Truman rarely wrote letters and he knew the gesture would mean a lot to Sallie.

  The showman entered the Igorrote village and was delighted to discover the tribespeople had almost finished building their homes. Their village was smaller than at Coney Island, but Truman was happy with how it was shaping up. There was no room for a watchtower, a community building, or the medicine man’s hut, but it would do just fine. They wouldn’t be staying more than a few weeks, though they didn’t know it yet.

  Eager to drive huge crowds to his new village, Truman placed advertisements in the Memphis newspapers, declaring, “Attraction Extraordinary—Dr. T. K. Hunt, late governor province of Bontoc, Island of Luzon, presents the premier attraction of the St. Louis Exposition, the famous head-hunting tribe of Igorrotes. 2,000,000 people have witnessed this remarkable exhibition, and have proclaimed it to be the greatest attraction of the World’s Fair. Don’t fail to witness their weird native dances—See the women Weaving ‘Dress Suits’ for their husbands.”1 In another advertisement Truman upped the ante, declaring that the Igorrotes had been “Pronounced by the press and public to be the greatest attraction ever presented in this country.”2

  When the park gates opened on the Igorrotes’ first day, great crowds descended on their village. By the evening Truman had to stop letting them in, for the enclosure was crammed to capacity. The showman was so overwhelmed with visitors he had to institute a new policy, limiting each of them to just thirty minutes in the village. The ticket seller couldn’t keep up, so Truman began taking the money himself. With each new wave of visitors that arrived, his pockets grew heavy.

  Late one night, after the Igorrotes had finished their last tribal show for the day, Truman took a walk through the park grounds. He was in bright spirits. The change of scene had been good for him. As he turned the corner, his mood improved further as he looked up and noticed a sign advertising the pretty vaudeville singer Flo Adler, who was also appearing at East End Park. The two had met before, at Coney, and had instantly hit it off. Flo had a good sense of humor and a childish love of practical jokes. Truman entered the hall where the singer was performing and got there just in time to catch the second half of her show. She must be nearing thirty, but she looked stunning, with her thick dark hair, her big, brown eyes, and her perfect hourglass figure. As she sang a comic song about love, Truman had an idea.

  He slipped backstage after the show and found her in her dressing room, sitting with her back to the open door. Her long brunette curls were piled loosely on her head. Truman glanced at her bare shoulders. Miss Adler, he said softly, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Flo spun round in her seat and smiled broadly. Taking her hand in his, Truman continued: I have a proposal which might interest you.

  In a saloon near the entrance to East End Park the following afternoon, Truman sat with a reporter from the Memphis Commercial Appeal who had been lured there with the promise of an exclusive. Leaning in close so that no one would overhear, Truman asked the reporter if he’d heard of the popular singer Flo Adler. Of course, she’s one of the best in the business. Truman smiled, adding, Well, she has become besotted by one of the Igorrote headhunters. The reporter urged him to continue. Beckoning to the barman to bring them drinks, Truman went on: she had confessed to lusting after the Igorrote’s “powerful physique, his manliness and great strength.”3 She’d even given him a pet name, “Hooligan,” as a jokey reference to his spirited tribal performances.

  The reporter took a swig from his glass. Truman explained that when he’d first learned of the singer’s infatuation, he had advised her to put the Filipino from her mind. The tribesman was no match for her. But try as she might, she couldn’t get over him. Just the night before, overcome with passion, she had stol
en a ladder from the groundsman’s hut and broken into the Igorrote Village under cover of darkness. She carried with her a smart American suit for her lover, which he was to don to disguise his tribal identity. When Flo entered the hut, however, she discovered to her dismay that the object of her affection was fast asleep and, accidentally stepping on the tail of “Igorrote Jack,” the hound whose job it was to guard the tribe at night, she screamed as Jack began snarling at her, alerting the entire village to her presence. Truman had come to see what the commotion was, and Flo had confessed, with tears streaming down her cheeks, that she and “Hooligan” had planned to elope.4

  What’s a beauty like her doing getting involved with a brown-skinned savage? asked the reporter, going along with Truman’s yarn. She’s in love, and we both know what that can do to a woman, said Truman with a wink. The only thing she didn’t like about the Filipino was his taste for canine flesh, added the showman, but her Filipino lover had offered to give it up when she became his bride. What happened to them? asked the reporter. Flo is heartbroken, said Truman. And her lover is being punished. He has been placed in shackles to prevent him from making any future attempts at escape and placed on a diet of bread and water.5

  The story appeared in the next edition of the paper, exactly as Truman had told it. The showman would celebrate that night. He had been meaning to pay a visit to the Elks Lodge since he arrived in Memphis. What better occasion than this?

  Truman walked up the steps of the imposing redbrick building and identified himself to the man on the door. The home of the Memphis Elks was one of the most comfortable Truman had ever set foot inside, with chandeliers, palms, and deep red walls. The showman spotted a group of men he knew and went over to say hello. They included several prominent newspapermen, a judge, and a sheriff. Bidding them good evening and shaking hands with each of them in turn, the showman gladly accepted when they invited him to join them, settling himself into a comfortable club chair.

  Truman had enjoyed the company of the lodge men in Brooklyn, but he felt altogether more at home here. He eyed the opulent decor, taking in the ornamental dark wooden pillars and the huge gold leaf vase that dominated the room. The aesthetic appealed to Truman, with his love of the extravagant and the exotic. The showman reached inside his jacket pocket and took out his cigar case. He always kept it stocked with the finest imported brands, which he now began offering around. The men asked how his exhibit was going. They’d read about Flo Adler and her tribal lover. The newspapermen wanted to know if he had any more juicy stories for them. Truman and his fellow Elks enjoyed a long and good-humored night. The showman was reminded of his old bachelor days. He would be sorry to leave Memphis. It was his kind of town.

  One afternoon in late September 1905, Truman walked up Seventh Street in Limerick, so-named, Sallie had told him, because nearly all the residents who had come there to work in the Louisville and Nashville Railroad freight yard had emigrated from the Irish county of the same name. A gritty, working-class neighborhood, it was one mile south of downtown Louisville, Kentucky. As Truman neared Sallie’s childhood home, he hoped that she had managed to forget about Else. The last thing he wanted was for Else to drive a wedge between them. That was why he had made the trip to Louisville that day, in order to put the matter behind them once and for all.

  He hadn’t told Sallie he was coming. The showman knocked on the door, hoping she would be at home. After a moment or two, Sallie appeared in the doorway and threw her arms around her husband’s neck. Standing in the hallway, Truman kissed her tenderly, then held her back so he could get a good look at her. She was blooming. Last time he saw her she was pinched and pale. Now she was round faced with rosy cheeks.

  Sallie took Truman’s hands in hers and led him through to the kitchen. No one else was home. Pointing to a chair, she told him to sit while she made him something to eat. He must be hungry after his journey. Sallie noticed her husband had grown paunchy without her around to keep an eye on his diet, and began teasing him about it. Truman had recently turned forty and though mentally he felt young and vibrant, all his good living was starting to take its toll on his body. He had always been prone to weight gain and he had to admit his suits had been feeling tighter recently.

  How long was he staying, asked Sallie. Truman said he had to go back to Memphis that night. He had come because he missed her and desperately wanted to see her. Sallie was disappointed he couldn’t stay, but she thought it very romantic that he had taken an eight-hundred-mile round trip just to surprise her. She couldn’t wait to tell her sisters.

  Truman told his wife to come and sit at the table beside him. He had some exciting news. She did as he said and looked at him expectantly. I’m bringing the Igorrotes to the Kentucky State Fair. Sallie threw her arms up and squealed with joy. The fair was the biggest event of the season in her home state. She would tell everyone. She couldn’t be prouder of her husband. Sallie didn’t mention Else once during his visit. Truman felt hopeful that they had finally put the matter behind them.

  The season had drawn to a close at Coney Island. At the request of his sister, Dora, Truman had agreed to employ his brother-in-law Edwin Fox in his Igorrote enterprise. Fox had left his home in Iowa and traveled to New York to collect the tribe. At Dreamland he met up with Callahan and Moody. Under Truman’s orders, the three men split the Dreamland Igorrotes into two groups. Callahan and Fox took one, and Moody took the other. Truman sent them a list of the towns and cities each group was scheduled to visit, with a note of the dates they were expected. Moody had mentioned earlier to Truman that he wanted to add a couple of bookings but the showman had told him to hold off. They could discuss it when they next met. Truman planned to make regular, unannounced visits to check up on both groups and to collect his share of the takings. One group left for Michigan and the second was going to Georgia.

  After Memphis, Truman took his own group to Lexington to the Kentucky State Fair, and then on another eight hundred miles to the Texas State Fair. Though the travel was expensive, Truman was glad to be making good money again. Having three groups touring simultaneously promised to be very lucrative indeed.

  The weather was splendid, with clear blue skies and bright sunshine, on the morning of Friday, October 27, when Truman and the Igorrotes arrived in Dallas. To the tribe’s disappointment, there hadn’t been a great deal of building work to be done in their new village. At Coney the tribe had had space to move around. But now, with only eighteen of them in the group and with most bookings lasting only a week or two, their villages were becoming smaller and less picturesque.

  The Igorrotes were sharing the bill with “Romeo, the talking pony,” “the Prince—the smallest midget in the world,” “Willie Stout, the Texas fat boy,” and Beautiful Baghdad, a glittering show combining opera, musical comedy, and ballet.6

  Truman had hired a local man, R. J. Marsh, to assist him in the village and had given him a crash course in Igorrote culture. Marsh had immediately impressed Truman with his flair for publicity. When a reporter from the Dallas Morning News came calling, Marsh invited the man to tour the village with him and began describing his charges as though he had known them for years: “[The Igorrotes] are remarkable for health, physical development, strength and longevity . . . They are the only people whose hair does not turn white when they are old.”7 He pointed out three men to the reporter who, he said, were ninety-two, ninety-five, and ninety-seven years, respectively, not one of whom had a gray hair or showed any signs of physical decay beyond the fact that their faces were lined. In fact, not one of the Igorrotes in Dallas was a day over sixty. But the reporter was more concerned with getting a good story than checking the accuracy of what he was told.

  Next, Marsh pointed out a tribesman in his thirties named Domonick. His real name was Domoniog Paicao, but Marsh believed in keeping things simple. According to Marsh, the thirty-two-year-old tribesman had been declared by sculptors all over the country to be the finest specimen of a man they had ever set eyes on. These scul
ptors were so taken with his handsome features that they had made life-sized models of him, which now stood in museums all over the United States. “The strength of the Igorrotes is something wonderful,” continued Marsh, warming to his theme. “Any of these men can pick up 500 pounds and carry it with ease.”8

  The reporter asked if they could set up a stunt to demonstrate their strength. Maybe they could get one of the men to pull the park manager’s automobile or lift the Texas fat boy. Marsh agreed it was a splendid idea but said he’d have to run it by Truman first, and unfortunately the showman was away on business.

  Marsh pressed on. “They are almost entirely free from disease. They are patient and industrious and no other women in the world have an easier time. The men do all the work, even the cooking. The women, however, make the clothes. They make the thread and do the weaving by hand. The clothes they have on are their own handiwork. They are absolutely truthful and strictly honest. They have never needed words for lying, stealing or drunkenness, for there is no practice corresponding to those words in their intercourse. Immorality is unknown among them, and whatever they have is a community property. If one of them gets hold of even a bottle of soda water all of them will drink of it. I have to provide three dogs every day for them. Boiled dog flesh is not distinguishable by taste from boiled beef.”9

  Marsh concluded the interview by turning to politics, explaining that the prospects for the Igorrotes in the Philippines were great under American rule: “The Igorrotes are intelligent and very imitative, and with half a chance they will fall in with the procession of civilization and go right along with it.”10