Editor’s note: We have heard from so many readers who enjoyed reading Bill Boyd’s columns about growing up in Marysville during the 1930s and ‘40s that we are going to rerun columns 1 through 52 on Fridays for the next year.
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Sea monster
As near as I can remember, it was sometime around the summer of 1940, when some very unusual entertainment came to Marysville. It was even more unusual than the side shows of the carnivals which occasionally came to town and set up in the fair grounds. Sure, the carnivals had some pretty unusual bearded ladies, but when you’ve seen one bearded lady you’ve pretty much seen them all. Even if you are only a seven- or eight-year-old kid, as I was.
The first I knew of this “coming attraction” was when I overheard some high school boys talking about it as they read an advertising flyer for the event. The feature of the show was a genuine “Sea Monster” – a real whale that had been caught off the coast of Greenland. The flyer said that those who view it will be so close they can see every detail and even touch the hide of this monstrous beast. It was too good to be true … an actual whale right here in Marysville.
On top of that, the flyer said that every man, woman and child who comes to see the whale would also have an opportunity to see a headless man. Plus they could witness someone called something like “Rubberman” whose quickness and pliability allowed him to avoid thrust after thrust of some of the worlds most lethal swords. And right then and there I said to myself, “I really have to see this.”
The advertising flyer said the admission was 20 cents, but kids under 12 would be admitted for a dime. So I immediately began working on my mother to come up with 10 cents. As usual, it worked. I also had another dime hidden in my bedroom, so I would take it along in case they had popcorn.
The show came to town one day in advance of the advertised date on three special railroad cars. They pulled onto a siding just east of North Main Street, across the road from Conrad’s Coal Company. I had talked my sister, Maryann, and her high school boyfriend, Jack Griffith, into taking me to the event. I don’t recall what time the doors were to open, however I was able to get them to go early, to beat the expected crowd. We parked on Third Street and walked the short distance to the rail siding.
There were already people in line, however the man who seemed to be in charge was admitting people in small groups of seven or eight people. When it was our turn I gave the man my dime and on his cue we mounted the steps into the first car. It took a little time for our eyes to adjust to the dim light after stepping in out of the bright sunlight. But the first clue that we were in the presence of a dead whale came not from my eyes but from my nose. It wasn’t a fishy smell, nor was it the scent of decomposition. It was, I believe, the smell of the materials they used to preserve this animal. At this point in time, I think that must be what it smells like to work in a formaldehyde factory.
As soon as my eyes stopped watering, not from the lighting change but from the smell, I could see the whale before me, and I said to myself, “Bill, that is one big fish.” Since I was probably only about four feet tall at the time, I imagine the thing looked bigger to me than it actually was. It had been mounted with its mouth wide open and I thought to myself that I could have curled up inside its mouth and taken a nap. Its teeth were huge and very bristly, which gave it an ominous look.
Then a man who called himself “Doctor something-or-other” stepped into the car and began explaining things about this type of whale. For example he said, “Don’t let this beast’s large mouth fool you. Its throat is so small it would choke on a grapefruit.” Then he went on to explain that the whale opens its huge mouth and takes in large volumes of water containing tiny life forms called krill. Then it forces the water out through the strainers in its teeth. This leaves thousands of the tiny creatures in its mouth, which it can easily swallow. (Isn’t it odd that I can remember all those details about that whale when I can’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning.)
Once the man finished his presentation on the whale and answered a few questions, he escorted us into the second car to see the headless man. As we entered we could see him sitting directly in the center of the car. He could move his arms and hands. In fact he shook hands with me. I wanted to ask him a question or two, but then I realized that a headless man probably couldn’t talk. I asked Jack how they did this, and he explained how it was set up with mirrors. I tried to understand it, but I really didn’t. I knew the man wasn’t really headless, but he certainly looked as if he were.
Soon they led us into the third and final rail car. There was already a larger crowd, maybe 25 people, as they were combining the small groups for this third event. At the far end of the car there was a raised stage about three feet or so in height. Sitting in the center was a brightly painted red box about three feet square. Just to the left of this large cube stood some sort of rack holding several of the most lethal looking swords I had ever seen.
Then two men appeared on stage. One was dressed in a black suit. The other was a small man who wore red tights, like those on high wire performers in a circus. The man in tights climbed into the box, crouched down and disappeared from sight, whereupon the other man placed the top on the box. He then moved to the rack holding the swords, removed one at a time and thrust each completely through the box so that the point came out the opposite side. After completing one round on all four sides of the box he then made a second round, thrusting each sword at a different angle. At one point as he thrust the sword the man inside the box let out a scream.
Then he made one final sword thrust through the top of the box directly downward. There were then nine swords penetrating that box from all sides, at different angles.
The man in the black suit then made some comments about this Rubberman being new on the job because the last fellow who had the job was run through by a misplaced sword when they were appearing in Pittsburgh. Then he went back to the box, removed the top and peered inside, and he muttered, “Oh no, not again!” That really had me on edge.
The performance was over and the man said we could leave, however, on our way out, for the small price of 10 cents we could step up onto the stage and look down into the box. Thank goodness they didn’t sell popcorn, so I still had that extra dime. I jumped up onto the stage, gave them my dime, and peered down into the box. Here was that little man in red tights, with his body twisted around those swords in ways that I am sure were never intended by our Creator. And for a second or two I made some kind of eye contact with him. As we looked at each other he gave me a little grin. I will never forget that grin, and for me it was the most special part of that day when a gigantic whale came to Marysville.