The Lost Tribe of Coney Island

by Claire Prentice

  McIntyre had the stiff manner common among military men but his face was pleasant, with smiling eyes and a neatly trimmed mustache. On this particular day his expression was grave as he dictated a letter to his secretary. In the letter addressed to E. S. Whitaker, the inspector of the New Orleans police, McIntyre expressed his desire to discover the whereabouts of Dr. Truman Hunt, a former government employee whom he believed was in New Orleans exhibiting a group of Filipino tribespeople.2 Would Inspector Whitaker have one of his men find Truman and make discreet inquiries about his business? McIntyre would be grateful if the inspector could treat his request as confidential.

  McIntyre instructed his secretary to type the letter up immediately. He wanted to get it mailed out that morning. He rested his elbows on the edge of his desk and rubbed his eyes. He wished this particular problem would go away.

  Capt. McIntyre’s career was on the up. The son of Irish immigrants, McIntyre had been raised in Montgomery, Alabama, and had entered the United States Military Academy at the age of seventeen. After serving in Puerto Rico and the Philippines, he returned to the United States in 1902 to begin his long service with the Bureau of Insular Affairs. His resourcefulness and sound judgment had won him the support of his superiors, not least Secretary of War William Howard Taft.

  McIntyre had a sure touch for the complex issues that crossed his desk and an ability to identify and defuse potential problems. His department had been aware for some time that Truman had been exhibiting a group of Igorrotes around the country. From what McIntyre understood, Truman had been given permission from US officials in Manila to take the tribe out of the country, and the Filipinos had all volunteered to join Truman’s enterprise in return for a monthly salary. Because Truman was operating a private enterprise—and not a government-organized exhibit, as had been the case in St. Louis—he had been left to his own devices.

  But the arrival of a mysterious telegram addressed to the War Department from a man named H. E. Deputy inquiring whether Truman had taken the Igorrotes home, as he’d promised the court official in Tampa he would, raised the alarm.3 Fearing a political scandal, the chief of the Bureau of Insular Affairs had ordered McIntyre to find Truman and ascertain what had happened to the Filipinos. It was one thing for an American showman to exhibit a willing group of tribespeople, but if he was coercing them, that was quite another matter. And how on earth had they ended up in Florida? McIntyre’s secretary dug out all the files they had on Truman Hunt and the Igorrotes in the bureau’s archives. Letters, reports, and official communications sat in several piles on the desk in front of him.

  From McIntyre’s initial scan through the files, Truman emerged as an upstanding citizen who had run a cholera hospital, served as a provincial lieutenant governor, and been a popular leader. Among the many documents was a report written by Dean Worcester, secretary of the interior for the US Insular Government and one of the most powerful colonial administrators in the Philippines. In it, Worcester praised Truman for conducting a “very successful”4 Igorrote exhibit at the St. Louis Fair. He added, “Dr. Hunt thoroughly understands the handling of such people, and has, furthermore, demonstrated his ability and willingness to live up to his agreements relative to proper care and kind treatment of the peoples which he has been allowed to take and which he returned safely to their home.”5 On this basis, Worcester wrote that he had no objection to Truman exhibiting another group of Igorrotes as a private enterprise in the United States—as he was now doing—“provided suitable bonds were given for the humane treatment and safe return of such people as might be taken to the United States by him.”6

  It was only as McIntyre read on that cracks began to appear in Truman’s record. McIntyre picked up a letter in which Col. Edwards, the bureau chief, had approved Truman and his former business partner Felder’s plan to exhibit the tribe at the Lewis and Clark Exposition in Portland but had expressly warned against taking them to Coney Island or other amusement parks of its ilk.7 Yet Truman had gone ahead and taken the tribe to Coney anyway.

  Then there was the telegram sent by William Reed, the provincial governor of Lepanto-Bontoc, to Worcester, stamped at 8:22 on the morning of March 14, 1905, just as Truman and the Igorrotes were setting out from the region on the long journey to America.8 In the telegram Reed, apparently having just learned of their impending voyage, protested against Truman taking the tribespeople out of the country, adding that “the troubles which have arisen as a result of the St. Louis Exposition and [claims] of Igorrotes that they have not received all their money indicate what might be expected from a private enterprise.”9

  The last sentence of the provincial governor’s telegram referred to claims made by the St. Louis Igorrotes that Truman had not paid them the balance of their salaries when they returned to the Philippines, but had kept the money for himself. Their share of the profits was no small sum, amounting to $3,866.98.10 An official in Manila had taken the matter up and written to his colleagues in Washington requesting clarification as to whether Truman had been given the money, but nothing had come of it and the claims had been all but forgotten. Until now.

  Worcester had dismissed Governor Reed’s concerns out of hand and had insisted that the showman would be made to provide a suitable bond.11 But, as McIntyre read on, he learned to his dismay that Worcester’s own office had failed in their duty to make Truman give a proper bond. Worcester was away on business when Truman arrived at his office in Manila. His deputy, acting in his absence, had given Truman a document to sign. The bond had been set at ten thousand pesos (around five thousand dollars). It had since transpired that the bond was worthless, as it only applied to employees of the insular government, which Truman was not. Furthermore, it failed to specify any conditions Truman was required to fulfill with regard to the care of the Igorrotes.

  There was worse to come. Worcester himself had written to the bureau in late 1905, describing a conversation he had had with a former employee of Truman’s, a Lepanto miner who had acted as Truman’s assistant at the St. Louis Fair. What the man told Worcester had left him feeling “especially uneasy.”12 According to the miner, Truman had proposed to him that “they should get together an aggregation of Bontoc Igorrotes, take them to the US, run the exhibit as long as it paid, and then abandon the Igorrotes there.”13 From the way the miner spoke, it was clear that he did not hold his former boss in high regard, Worcester observed. Maybe the miner had an old score to settle. But when Worcester asked around the local community, he learned that the Filipino man had a reputation for being “responsible and truthful.”14

  Alone, each of these incidents could be dismissed or explained away. But cumulatively they made for uncomfortable reading. McIntyre had come across men like Truman Hunt before. He had been stationed in the Philippines long enough to see that in the climate of upheaval and lawlessness that prevailed in the new colony at the turn of the century, even honest men had been known to commit dishonest acts. Embezzlement, theft, drunkenness, gambling, exploitation of the tribespeople, and licentious association with native women were among the vices that thrived among the islands’ new American populace.15 An early Report of the Philippine Commission noted, “Many [men] leave the United States honest, but with the weakening of the restraints of home associations and with the anxious desire to make so long a trip result successfully in a pecuniary advantage, demoralization and dishonesty are much more likely to follow than at home.”16

  At forty-one, McIntyre was an ambitious man and still had much he wanted to achieve. The last thing he needed was to become embroiled in a messy scandal at a time when America’s involvement in the Philippines was high on the political agenda. Erving Winslow, the abrasive and outspoken secretary of the Anti-Imperialist League, was hunting for grounds to make trouble over the exhibition of the Igorrotes. Winslow was a powerful man, capable of causing a lot of bother. McIntyre must do everything he could to ensure the Secretary of War and Henry Clay Ide, the acting governor-general of the Philippines, remained one step ahe
ad of their opponents at all times.

  The matter must be given the utmost priority. If word got out, this could be a huge political embarrassment. They had to find Truman and get him under bonds. If he refused, the Igorrotes would be taken from him and sent home on the next ship.

  One thousand miles away in New Orleans, on February 11, 1906, Inspector Whitaker received an envelope bearing the US government seal. Ripping it open, he read Capt. McIntyre’s letter with interest. It wasn’t every day you got a request for help from the government. Whitaker would be happy to assist.

  The inspector knew of Truman Hunt and the Igorrote Village. He made it his business to know who was in town and what they were doing. Truman and several of the Igorrotes had recently turned up at the Central Police Station, shouting about having seen a ghost. They were always in the local newspapers, chasing after dogs or getting up to some stunt. Truman was a regular in the Elks Lodge, just along the road from the police headquarters. Given how many policemen in the city were members too, it wouldn’t be hard to find him. Whitaker told one of his officers to go and pay Truman a friendly visit and find out as much as he could about him and the group.

  At Athletic Park the police officer was informed that the group had recently moved on. The park manager had heard they were in temporary accommodations on North Rampart Street, a lively area adjacent to Storyville, New Orleans’s infamous red light district. The Filipinos were giving impromptu performances there during the carnival season. The police, and many of the city’s most distinguished citizens, knew the area well. Alongside the dance halls and saloons were elegant mansions devoted to high-end prostitution, whose wealthy former residents had fled the area as vice took hold. Those looking for cheaper thrills frequented the boisterous cribs, single rooms in creaky, run-down buildings, furnished with little more than a mattress and a whore.

  The police officer knocked on doors up and down North Rampart Street, which eventually led him to a saloon where he found the showman holding court, a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other. The officer approached and introduced himself. Truman shook his hand and ordered a round of whiskey. The officer said it was a friendly call. The inspector of the New Orleans police liked his officers to get out and meet with new members of the community. Smiling, Truman said he would be happy to tell the officer anything he wanted to know. The showman introduced the two men sitting beside him as his business associates, J. L. Miller and Edwin C. Fox.17

  The four men struck up a cordial conversation. Truman described how he had first met the tribe in the Philippines. He talked about their taste for dogmeat and their head-hunting. Before long the conversation turned to the incident with the ghost at Athletic Park. The tribe had become so afraid, said Truman, that he had been forced to arrange alternative accommodations for them. The police officer was enjoying himself. It wasn’t every day he met the manager of an exotic tribe, and Truman was an entertaining host.

  The showman was forthcoming about all aspects of his business, falsely stating that he was under a ten-thousand-dollar bond to the US government for the care and safety of the tribe. According to Truman, they had journeyed for a month by sea and rail before reaching their first stop, in Seattle, on April 19, 1905. There were twenty-seven males and twenty-three females in the group, plus an interpreter. Truman fell silent for a moment, then added that two of the males had since passed away.18

  Where, the police officer asked, has the tribe been showing since they got to America? Truman thought for a moment. They had been to so many places since they left Coney Island. Before New Orleans they had been in San Antonio, Texas, and before that they spent a couple of weeks in Dallas. They’d also been showing in Memphis; St. Louis; Louisville; Kansas City; Lincoln, Nebraska; and Springfield, Illinois.19 There were other places too but he couldn’t remember them all.

  When the discussion turned to money, Truman was surprisingly open, even boastful. Admission was twenty-five cents and visitors came in the tens and sometimes hundreds of thousands each week. The Igorrotes were the biggest attraction on the fair and amusement park circuit this year. The officer asked Truman how long he planned to remain in town. The Igorrotes would be there for a while longer with one of his associates, but he was planning to travel to St. Louis in a few days, the showman lied. As the officer got up to leave, Truman told him they had a booking lined up in Nashville next (in reality they were going on to Jackson, Mississippi). That should throw them off his scent.

  The officer left with a favorable impression of Truman and his associates. Yes, Truman bragged and liked the sound of his own voice. But he was up-front, likable, and humorous. He was a gentleman compared to some of the scoundrels working in the fairs and amusement parks. The police officer relayed to Whitaker what Truman had told him and speculated that the tribespeople must be making him a very wealthy man.

  The news that Truman had been located offered McIntyre some relief, but he was eager to make contact with the showman himself. From what Inspector Whitaker said, there was no point in writing to Truman at his address in New Orleans, as he would be out of town by the time the letter arrived. McIntyre had recently discovered that Truman had been working with a St. Louis theatrical man named Col. John Hopkins. On February 14, 1906, Captain McIntyre wrote to Hopkins inquiring as to the well-being of Truman’s Igorrote group.20

  From where Hopkins stood on the grounds of Forest Park Highlands amusement park, he could just about see the site where the Igorrotes had first wowed America nearly two years earlier at the St. Louis World’s Fair. He wondered how many millions of Americans had seen them since then—two, three, maybe even four million?

  The theatrical impresario was still leasing some of Truman’s Igorrotes from him, but the showman had turned up out of the blue recently and demanded that Hopkins give them back to him for a short time so that he could honor a booking. When Hopkins had refused, Truman had reacted with anger and threatened to bring habeas corpus proceedings to regain control of the group. His behavior was unseemly and unprofessional and Hopkins didn’t like it one bit.

  Hopkins was used to drama. He had earned his living from the theater for as long as he could remember. In that time he had become accustomed to doing business with all sorts of characters. He didn’t know Truman well, and didn’t wish to. He had learned enough about the showman’s methods to know he would be wise to distance himself from his business associate.

  Hopkins’s reply to McIntyre was brief and stressed that his interest in the Igorrotes was “simply that of a booking agent.”21 His job was to “arrange dates for them and contract for their appearance at various places, under an agreement made with Dr. Hunt. I have booked them at various places throughout the country the coming summer. Wonderland Park, Boston, is one of the places at which they have been booked by me.”22 He added that Truman was currently in New Orleans with the Igorrotes and had been there since around December. To the best of his knowledge, Hopkins said, all of the tribespeople were in excellent health except one of the older men, who had died a few weeks ago.

  McIntyre was glad to hear from Hopkins, though he was alarmed to discover that Truman planned to keep showing the tribespeople through the next summer season. Flawed bonds aside, this was a clear breach of the gentleman’s agreement Truman had made with Worcester to take them out of the Philippines for no more than a year.

  He decided to write to Truman, care of Col. Hopkins in St. Louis. In his letter, dated February 17, 1906, McIntyre told the showman that he wanted to keep in touch with him while he was touring the country and would appreciate a report from him each month as to the tribe’s health and well-being. He added, “I understand that two of the party have died since their arrival in this country. Will you kindly advise us as to the cause of death, the disposition of their remains, and also of their effects.”23

  A fortnight passed without any reply from Truman. On March 9, 1906, McIntyre wrote to him again, this time at North Rampart Street, New Orleans, the address provided by the chief of police there.
24 Official interest in the Igorrotes was growing. Three months had elapsed since the telegram had arrived from H. E. Deputy in Florida, raising the alarm that all might not be well with Truman and the Igorrotes. They needed to find Truman fast.

  McIntyre’s second letter did indeed reach Truman. The showman was irritated. The last thing he needed was for some meddling government official to start checking up on his business. Truman never wrote a letter if he could avoid it, but he feared the government would only intensify their search if they didn’t hear from him. He had a better idea.

  On the morning that he and the Igorrotes were due to leave New Orleans, Truman finally got around to composing his reply. In the letter, dated March 15, 1906, he wrote, “the people [Igorrotes] are all well and perfectly contented. The party at the present time here [New Orleans] but will leave soon for the north with weather permitting. One member of the party died in Seattle upon our arrival there. Body is embalmed and will be returned to his home, he having no effects except salary which will be paid to proper officials in the Philippines. He died of Pneumonia. Pucuan, another male Igorrote, died here Jan 25th,25 body embalmed and will be returned with us. His effects are all sealed and in possession of his sister. I will say I did not receive your first letter addressed to me at St. Louis. My permanent address this summer will be 1139 7th St., Louisville, Ky. Will be pleased to make you reports monthly or weekly, as you may desire. Your very truly T.K. Hunt.”26

  On his way to the station, Truman called in at the Elks Lodge, where he handed the letter to a friend of his and asked him to post it in two days’ time. Why should he make it easy for the government to find him?

  At long last McIntyre had made contact with Truman, but there was something about the tone of the showman’s letter that he didn’t like. He had given only the briefest details about the tribespeople under his care and seemed to be operating under the arrogant assumption that the Igorrotes were his to do with as he pleased, for as long as he wished. Truman had failed to provide a new and proper bond for the Igorrotes, despite receiving a request from Manila to do so. His contract to exhibit the Filipinos expired that month, yet here he was flaunting the fact that he had no plans to take them home.