The Lost Tribe of Coney Island

by Claire Prentice

  Was there any chance he could go inside the village for a few moments, to take a look around? The man unlocked the padlock, and told him to make it quick.

  The Igorrotes looked surprised to see a visitor. We are closed, said one, standing up. Unlike the others, he was dressed in an American suit. His trousers were filthy round the ankles. Barker guessed that this was Julio. The others stared. Barker introduced himself in Spanish and showed them his government identification. Julio eyed it and, addressing Barker in Spanish, asked him what he wanted. The government had heard that the Igorrotes were being mistreated and held against their will, and he had been sent to investigate. Julio translated his words into Bontoc for the benefit of those who had not understood. The tribespeople began speaking noisily among themselves. Barker told Julio not to mention his visit to anyone. Did they know where Truman was?

  22

  Dr. Hunt, I Presume

  SANS SOUCI PARK, CHICAGO, JUNE 25, 1906

  Letter from Barker to the Bureau of Insular Affairs describing Truman as “instinctively untruthful and untrustworthy & irresponsible”

  BARKER WAS SITTING in Woolf’s office later that day when a visitor called and announced himself as Mr. Quinn, an associate of Truman’s. The showman wanted to meet Woolf “with a view to making an agreement for the exhibition of the Igorrotes,”1 and was waiting in a nearby saloon. Woolf hesitated for a moment. This was not how he liked to do business, but he was eager to get his top attraction open again, so he reluctantly agreed to go with the man. Without disclosing his identity, Barker went too.

  Truman was sitting at the bar, cradling a drink. It was a bright day outside, but the absence of any windows made it gloomy inside. Barker looked around. Aside from two men in work overalls farther along the bar, they were the only customers. Truman stood up to greet Woolf and Barker, assuming they worked together at Sans Souci. He was delighted to make Woolf’s acquaintance at last. He’d heard all about him from Hill. Truman was smoking a cigar and had the loquacious demeanor of someone who had been drinking at the bar for a while.

  The showman invited his guests to take a seat, then got down to business. For the right price, Woolf could keep some of the Igorrotes in Sans Souci, but Truman would be taking the rest to another park. The Filipinos were the most in-demand exhibit of the season and he could command a lot of money for them. The amount Woolf was paying for them was frankly insulting. He would need to double it at least before Truman could consider letting him keep some. Barker noted Truman’s use of the word some. He clearly didn’t think of the Igorrotes as human beings anymore. Maybe he never had. When Woolf pointed out that he already had a contract with Mr. Hill, Truman scoffed. The deal with Hill was worthless. The Igorrotes had nothing to do with Hill; he had simply been looking after the day-to-day running of the village for Truman while he was out of town.

  This was a lie. Truman had leased the Sans Souci Igorrotes out to Hill, but he had since received a better offer from the owners of White City, a rival Chicago park. The tribespeople were his, said Truman, jabbing his index finger into his own chest for emphasis. He had special permission from the government to exhibit them in America. Did Woolf want to make him an offer? Truman took a slug of his drink and slammed the glass back down on the bar, indicating to the barman to fill it up again. Before giving Woolf time to answer, Truman spoke again. There wasn’t a city in America that didn’t want the Igorrotes. He had had enough inquiries to keep them employed in the country for a decade. They were box-office gold.

  Truman rambled on, leaving few gaps for Woolf or Barker to fill. The Igorrotes would not listen to orders from anyone but him. They regarded Truman as their chief and their trusted friend. Barker had expected the showman to be likable, charming even, but the man propping up the bar before him came across as a liar and a drunk. He spoke loosely and “lied incontinently,” even going so far as to “state emphatically that he had 98 Igorrotes” in the country, when he had only forty-nine Filipinos, including Julio and Friday.2 The way he spoke about the tribespeople, as if they were animals or goods to be sold, disgusted Barker.

  When he could no longer stand listening to Truman’s bragging and lies, Barker interrupted. He had heard all he needed to hear. Taking out his credentials, Barker identified himself as an agent sent by the US government to investigate Truman’s tribal enterprise. The showman fell silent for a moment, but it didn’t take long for him to regain his composure, quipping that the government’s man should be buying the drinks. Barker sat stone-faced. From then on, Truman “confined his prevarications within more or less safe limits.”3 Truman asked Woolf if he would leave them alone for a moment. Woolf obliged.

  Turning to Barker, Truman told him that he was wasting his time. The Igorrotes were working for him of their own free will. They were happy and were cared for as if they were members of his own family. Barker resisted the urge to laugh as the lies kept coming. The tribespeople had each signed contracts agreeing to exhibit for one year with an option of continuance for another year. He had agreed to pay them ten dollars a month each (the actual figure was fifteen dollars), with all salaries payable once they reached the Philippines. He added that the souvenir money belonged to him but that, as a goodwill gesture, he was thinking of giving some of it to the tribespeople. It had been his plan all along to take the Igorrotes at Sans Souci to Milwaukee and from there directly on to Manila the previous weekend, but the Sans Souci attorney had raised an injunction, which prevented him taking the tribespeople away from the park.

  In view of Truman’s unguarded earlier admissions, Barker was under no illusion that Truman was lying. The showman wasn’t planning to take the Igorrotes to Manila. He was going to take them away from Sans Souci in order to throw the government off his scent and to sever all contact between his Igorrotes and those in Schneidewind’s group, who he knew might try to help them. Whether he had planned to take them to White City or Milwaukee was anybody’s guess. No doubt it depended on which bidder was offering the most money.

  Barker asked Truman where the rest of the tribespeople from his original group were. Fifteen of them are in Milwaukee, replied Truman, and the other fifteen are in New Haven. The government agent asked where the bodies of the two dead men were. Seattle, Truman replied. Barker made a mental note to look into whether this was true and to find out if they had been buried.

  Truman seemed to relax again. Maybe it was the liquor, thought Barker. The government agent asked him about his business partners. From the way Truman spoke, it was clear that all the interested parties—Truman, Fox, Hopkins, Quinn, Hill, and the rest—were at odds with each other and fighting over control of the Igorrotes and the revenue they were bringing in. What a snake pit. Truman presented himself as a refined, gentlemanly sort, with his elegant suit, his expensive cigars, and his bonhomie, but his behavior was that of a scoundrel and a drunkard. The more he heard of Truman, the less Barker liked the showman.

  Truman finished his drink and suggested they go to Sans Souci right away to speak with the tribespeople. They could tell Barker themselves how content they were.

  The Filipinos looked up expectantly as Truman turned the key in the padlock. Is the village opening, Julio asked hopefully. Not yet, said Truman, adding that he had brought someone who wanted to talk to them. He introduced Barker as a government agent. Truman knew how much the Filipinos had grown to mistrust US officials and hoped this might act in his favor. Barker asked Truman if he would leave him alone with the tribespeople for half an hour.

  That won’t be necessary, insisted the showman. They can speak openly in my presence. Truman’s tone was goading as he told Barker to ask the Igorrotes anything he wanted. Barker turned to Julio and asked him whether it was his wish to remain on exhibition in America. No, said Julio, I want to go home. Truman interrupted: He misunderstood the question; he means he wants to go home at the end of the season. No, repeated Julio boldly, I want to go home now. Julio’s bravery spread through the tribe. Standing before their boss, the tribespeo
ple seemed suddenly to forget their fear as each of them said they wanted to return to the Philippines.

  Barker had assumed it would take him awhile to gain the tribe’s trust and to get them to speak out against the showman. It was clear from Truman’s face that he too was shocked by their rebellion. Truman blustered on. Some of them had been feeling homesick recently. They did from time to time, but it would soon pass. Savages are changeable, he said by way of explanation. Barker was in no mood for nonsense. Truman must send all those Igorrotes who wished to return home on the next transport. If any of them wanted to stay and continue exhibiting, they could do so, provided Truman furnished an American Surety Company bond for ten thousand dollars guaranteeing the humane care of the tribespeople and their safe return, at his expense, to the Philippines at the end of the season.

  Without so much as a word of argument, Truman agreed. Barker knew he was bluffing. The showman had three days to come up with the bond. If he didn’t provide it by Thursday, then he would no longer have any claim to the tribespeople. In the meantime Barker was assuming control of the village on behalf of the government. He would keep all the money generated by the tribe and would hold it in trust for them. The Igorrotes had done without work and wages long enough; the village would reopen that evening. For once, Truman was lost for words. He left vowing to return the next day.

  That night Barker sat up late in his small, bare hotel room writing a detailed report for Paul Charlton, law officer at the Bureau of Insular Affairs. It took him several hours to compose and by the time he finished it ran to nineteen pages. He didn’t hold back in his assessment of Truman, who had “shown himself to be instinctively untruthful and untrustworthy & irresponsible . . . It is plain, too, that he will wiggle out of any agreement he makes if he can.”4 Barker noted that the showman was “a shrewd man and resourceful”5 and should not be underestimated. As for the well-being of Truman’s other Igorrote groups who were traveling with his associates, Barker concluded that it was highly probable from current rumors that they were no better contented or situated than the troupe in Chicago.6 Barker hoped the bureau would give him the go-ahead to begin legal proceedings soon and had met with the district attorney in Chicago to brief him on the case against Truman.

  If the showman failed to come up with the ten-thousand-dollar bond in the next three days, Barker proposed the government do one of two things. The tribespeople could be returned to the Philippines immediately, discontented, penniless, and at great expense to the government, or they could be entrusted to Schneidewind or some other reputable showman for the remainder of the season, which would allow them to earn some money to take home with them come September. Before signing off his letter, Barker explained that he was sending a handwritten letter and not an official typed report because he was “afraid to use public stenographers”7 for fear that the contents might be leaked to Truman.

  Barker asked Charlton to have his secretary make copies of all his correspondence with the bureau and to mail the copies to him in Chicago so that he might have a record of their exchange. He didn’t want to take the risk of having his letters copied locally. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but he thought it better to be paranoid than to risk Truman getting hold of highly sensitive information about the case the government was compiling against him. From what Woolf had said, the showman had a network of spies working for him.

  Lying on Barker’s bed was a copy of the Daily News. Under the headline IGORROTES BALK AT COLD AND CALUMNY,8 the front-page story described the sorry plight of Truman’s Igorrotes, who were quoted saying they had not been paid, had nowhere to bathe, were sleeping in three small tents, and had not been given sufficient clothing to keep out the “lake breezes” and “chilly nights.” Barker wondered how the reporter had managed to get his interviews given the police guard and the additional security men who had recently been placed in the village. He would have a word with Julio to see if the tribespeople could be persuaded to refrain from speaking to anyone else.

  There was another problem that demanded Barker’s attention. A party of visitors had written to the government to complain after visiting Truman’s Igorrote Village and witnessing a feast at which a “dog was placed upon his back and two or three of the Igorrotes took hold of its legs while another inserted a knife into the bowels of the dog.”9 The group had been so disgusted they had walked out. Outside they asked the ticket seller what the Igorrotes did after killing the dog. He replied that they turned it into cutlets and stew.

  Unless the government intervened and put a stop to the dog feasts, the visitors were threatening to write to the newspapers and the Humane Society to complain. Barker sighed. People never ceased to amaze him. Here were eighteen human beings living in squalor and being forced to put on a degrading show for the public and the only complaint this party had was about the treatment of the dog. He felt like writing back and pointing this out but knew the complaint must be handled carefully. The last thing they needed was the distraction of another scandal.

  Barker needed to think for a moment. He lay down on his bed and gazed up at the ceiling. His eyes alighted on a cobweb. He climbed up onto the mattress and began trying to swat it with the Daily News. He was no arachnophobic, but he loathed the idea of spiders crawling over his head while he slept. He rolled the newspaper up and, standing on his tiptoes, he waved the paper back and forth. Finally he dislodged one corner of the silken web and pulled the whole thing down. Walking over to the window, Barker hauled it open and dropped the spider’s web, complete with its supper of flies, into the air.

  Thursday came and went and Truman failed to make the bond. He had not been seen or heard of since his trip to the Igorrote Village with Barker. The War Department instructed Barker to act immediately. If Schneidewind provided a contract agreeing to take care of Truman’s Igorrotes, pay them $7.50 each a month plus all their souvenir money, and return them to the Philippines at the end of the season, he would be given control of them that day. It wasn’t a perfect solution but in the absence of a simpler—and cheaper—option, it would suffice. The government could hardly enter the Igorrote exhibition business itself.

  When Barker told him of the plan, Schneidewind could hardly believe his luck. Not only had his competition been wiped out, he now had an additional eighteen Igorrotes. The season would not be over for another two months. This promised to be a highly lucrative summer. Barker knew the Igorrotes at Sans Souci would be disappointed to learn that they weren’t going home yet, though he hoped the news that they would never have to work for Truman again might help soften the blow.

  With a satisfactory arrangement in place for the care and management of the Sans Souci Igorrotes, Barker turned his attention to Truman and his other tribal groups. The showman had been missing for a week. From what Barker had gleaned from various sources in the park and from McIntyre’s investigations, Truman had tribespeople in Milwaukee, New Haven, and Minneapolis. He could be in any one of those places. Or he could be somewhere else entirely, laying low for a while.

  Julio had heard Truman talking to Callahan about Milwaukee. Barker knew there was little point staying in Chicago. Truman was unlikely to show his face in this city for a while. The government agent would go to Milwaukee with Julio, Antero, Feloa, and Schneidewind. He didn’t imagine Truman would give up “his” Igorrotes without a fight. The others could help if Truman turned nasty. The chase was on.

  23

  On the Run

  MILWAUKEE, JULY 1, 1906

  Headline from the Winnipeg Telegram, July 6, 1906

  ALL THAT REMAINED of the Igorrote Village in Wonderland Park, Milwaukee, was a burned-out campfire, a spear, which lay broken in two on the ground, and a crudely painted sign announcing that the dog eaters had once lived there. In the middle of the deserted plot, a man in a lightweight summer suit stood cursing. The park manager had been making his morning rounds of the attractions, visiting each of the whitewashed terra-cotta-tiled pavilions and the sideshows in turn, and had been aghast to di
scover that his top attraction had disappeared into thin air overnight. What did he pay those wretched security guards for? How could fifteen Igorrotes wearing nothing but G-strings up and leave like that, without being seen? He stormed off to find the head of security.

  The Filipinos had been booked to exhibit for another week at Milwaukee’s premier amusement park. But Truman had gotten word from a contact in Chicago that Barker was on his way and had fled in the dead of night, taking the Igorrotes with him.

  By the time Barker and the others arrived at Wonderland, Truman and the Igorrotes were already hundreds of miles away. Barker stood looking around the empty village. Truman was as slippery as an eel. If the showman ever tired of being a professional rogue, thought Barker wryly, he could have a wonderful career with the circus as a disappearing act. Barker was eager to get his hands on the Igorrotes before the Fourth of July. It was one of the most lucrative days on the amusement park calendar and he wanted to make sure the tribespeople, and not Truman, profited from the holiday crowds.

  Where was the showman now? Had he taken the Igorrotes to hide out with him in some remote location? That would be the obvious way to avoid detection. But if Truman was as hard up as rumor had it, he couldn’t afford to be without the tribe’s earnings for very long. He would need to exhibit them.

  Feloa stooped down and picked up the pieces of the broken spear. He recognized it as Dengay’s spear from the chips on both sides of the head. Feloa tucked it into the belt of his loincloth.

  Before returning to the station, Barker and Schneidewind made inquiries around the park. One man who’d been employed in the Igorrote Village said he’d overheard Truman talking about going to Iowa. That was a possibility, thought Barker—the showman had family there. But it was equally likely that Truman had paid the man to say it.