The Man in the Tree (14 page)

"I don't have a permanent address; I thought I'd look around for something
down here."
"Well, put down the old one, then, just so we have a mailing address. Then
when you get settled, let us know."
Under "Salary," Ducklin had written in an amount that seemed very low, but
Gene signed the contract without comment. Ducklin put the pages away in
his desk.
"Well, that's about it, then," he said, and held out his hand. "Glad to
have you with us, John, and we'll see you, say, around the end of March."
He rented an A-frame cabin on Lake Brantley, north of Orlando, and
spent the rest of the winter there alone. He had some of his things
shipped down from New York; there was not room for much. The A-frame
was jerry-built, and the window wall in front dripped cold air like a
slow invisible waterfall.
At the end of January, Ducklin sent him a telegram advising him that
Mrs. Emerson still had the converted van and was willing to sell. She
lived in Augusta, Georgia. Gene telephoned and arranged to meet her.
The dead giant's house was a tall white Victorian building. It needed
a coat of paint, and some of the gingerbread was missing. An orange cat
rubbed itself against his legs as he rang the bell.
Mrs. Emerson was a pale, auburn-haired woman with discolored pouches under
her eyes. He could not judge her height, but she seemed to be a little
taller than most women. "You must be Mr. Davis," she said. "Come in."
They sat in the high-ceilinged living room, on faded plush chairs covered
with antimacassars. "I understand you're with the Ducklin show now," she
said, with a faint smile.
"Yes. I'm sorry about your husband, Mrs. Emerson."
"It's all right. It was hard on me at first, he was only forty-seven. We
were talking about him retiring after the next season. It's a pretty poor
life he had, on the road all the time, but what can you do?"
"Yes, I see."
"About the van, it's out in back, up on blocks. It's no good to me. It
had an engine overhaul just before Tim died. it might need some more work,
I don't know." She named a price.
The van was in the barn behind the house. There were pigeon droppings on
the cab, and a starred hole in the windshield. The trailer had one door
in the side, and no windows. Because of the dropped frame, there was
a center section almost twelve feet high; in the front and rear, over
the wheels, Gene found that he had about a foot of headroom. The floor
and the steps were carpeted in greasy-looking green shag. The bed was
set crosswise in the front, next to a discouraged brown loveseat. The
dinette table and two chairs were in the center section; one of the
chairs was giant-sized. In the rear were the gas range, aluminum sink,
refrigerator, toilet, and shower.
He gave her a check for a thousand dollars more than she had asked
for. She took it, but her expression told him that she thought he was
crazy. She gave him the address of the firm in Augusta where the van had
been converted; he went there and talked to a salesman in the shop. "Well,
sir, I'd say you want the engine and transmission checked over, and then
new plugs, tires, fan belt. The body, now, that ought to be all right."
Gene told him about the hole in the windshield; the salesman made
a note. "Yes, sir, we'll take care of that for you, and we'll look
at the plumbing and wiring. About the inside, did you want some new
carpeting? Maybe furniture? Might be a little wore-out by now."
Gene agreed to everything: new custom furniture, appliances, cabinets, and
fixtures. The salesman's cheerfulness increased with each item until his
round, honest face shone with pleasure. At last he retired to his office
and came back with a long written estimate. Gene wrote him a check. The
salesman was actually rubbing his hands; Gene had read about this in
books but had never seen it, "Well, Mr. Davis, we'll have her all ready
for you by the first of March, and I promise you won't know the old van."
The van was ready on March tenth. Gene hired a driver to take him to
Lake Brantley, then another, on the twenty-seventh, to drive him to the
carnival winter quarters.
The carnival lot, muddier than ever, was crowded with trucks,
semitrailers, and equipment of all kinds. Workmen were busy around a
half-assembled Ferris wheel. Two men walked by carrying a long plank
between them. Gene put his head out the window. "Can you show us where
to park?"
One of the men said, "Hell, I don't know. Over there, I guess."
"My name is John Davis. Will you tell Mr. Ducklin I'm here?"
"Okay."
Gene paid off the driver, sat in the trailer and waited. After half an
hour someone put his head in at the open door. It was a young man in a
leather jacket; he had sleek brown hair and a friendly, humorous face.
"Hello, Mr. Davis? My name's Mike Wilcox, I'm the talker for the
sideshow."
"Come in. The place is a mess."
Wilcox climbed into the trailer and cast an appraising glance around.
"Your first time with the carnival?"
"Yes."
"Well, the main thing is not to carry anything you don't absolutely
need. It's amazing what you can do without. You'll get the hang of it,
though. Are you nervous?"
"A little."
"Not to worry. Being a sideshow attraction is the easiest thing there
is in a carnival. You don't have to do anything, you just are, sort of
like the Grand Canyon. 'Freak' is the word they use here, but it's not
a putdown, you know, a freak is a member of the upper class, because
not everybody can be one. You won't worry about that, will you?"
"No."
"Good. Now you've got your rings all right, have you, and your
photographs?"
"Yes, they're in those cartons over there. Are you English?"
"Yes, Birmingham, how did you know?"
"Have you been with the carnival long?"
"Three seasons. I like it, I really do. Ducklin's a dear man, and they're
all good people here."
"Would you like a beer, or some coffee?"
"Thanks, I can't stay. I did just want to talk to you for a moment
and give you an idea what you're in for. We've got five attractions
in the string joint at present, not counting myself -- the Fat Lady,
the Lizard Man, the Two-Headed Calf, the Sword Swallower, and you. The
Sword Swallower has a routine of course, and that's easy on me; I just
have to introduce her and she does her act. Now in your case, all you've
got to do is sit there, and stand up when I ask you to, and I'll do the
usual sort of spiel. What name do you want to use?"
"It doesn't matter. John Davis is all right."
"No, Davis won't do. Too short. How about, let's see, how about Callaghan?
John Callaghan. No, doesn't have the right flow somehow. Pettibone would
be good, but for a midget, not a giant."
"They used to call me Shorty in New York," Gene said.
"That's okay in fun, but not for the carnival. Let's see, John Wallingford.
John Waterman. I want the three syllables. John Corrigan, too Irish. John
Kimberley, Kimberley, I think that's got it. Sounds massive and
dignified. What do you say?"
"All right with me."
"Okay, that's settled. Now you can't do an accent, I suppose, so we'll
have to make you American."
"I thought I didn't have to talk?"
"People will be coming up to buy the rings, and the photos; you'll have to
say a few words now and then, and you don't want to sound like a fake. So,
let's see, suppose we make you from someplace like Wyoming. The wide-open
spaces. Um, yes, I can work this up. Son of a rancher, and so on. Of course,
if you have anything else in mind -- "
"No, that's all right."
"Now, there's one thing you ought to know. In the carnival, nobody ever
asks you who you really are or where you come from."
"I'm sorry."
"No, not a complaint. I don't mind a bit myself, and plenty of people
will tell you their life histories if you let them, but it's one of the
rules that you don't ask. Actually it's one of the things I like about
the carnival. Sort of like not having to show your passport."
"Yes, I see."
Wilcox gave him a keen look. "You're a bit down, aren't you?"
"A little, maybe. I'll get over it."
"Of course you will. Now I've got to move on, but if all goes well
we'll have a run-through this afternoon, over in that direction,
probably about three o'clock. Oh, one more thing -- you'll be needing a
driver, and I think I've got one for you, a young man who works on the
loop-the-loop. I'll send him round and you can make whatever arrangement
you like with him." With a smile and a wave, he was gone.
At three o'clock he found Wilcox and a little group of people standing
in a comparatively dry corner of the field. Behind them was a row of
chairs, one of which was already occupied by a woman of astounding size;
sitting down, she looked as broad as she was tall. Her small head, perched
on top of this overflowing mound of flesh, looked as if it belonged to
someone else. Her face was soft and sweet. The chair she sat in was a
massive wooden construction, much heavier than Gene's, which had been
set up at the end of the row; the rest were folding aluminum chairs with
plastic webbed seats.
Wilcox saw him and waved him over. "Just in time," he said cheerfully.
"Big John, I'd like you to meet the rest of our little troupe. This is
Irma LeFever, our fire eater and sword swallower." Irma was a tall young
woman, slender and blonde in a T-shirt and blue jeans; she smiled and
took Gene's hand for a moment. "Welcome to the show," she said.
"This is Ed Parlow, the Lizard Man." A gray-faced, scholarly-looking
man of about forty, dressed in a gray silk robe, nodded, but kept his
hands in his pockets. "And this is Betty Ann Forster, our Fat Lady.' She
smiled and nodded.
"Now what we'll do," said Wilcox, "is just run through for timing. Irma
and I will do the bally, but we can skip that. The order will be Irma,
then me with some clever card tricks and feats of prestidigitation,
then the Fat Lady, the Lizard Man, the Two-Headed Calf, and finally our
new giant, Big John Kimberley. What I'd like you to do is just to take
your places while I'm doing the act that comes ahead of you. Before and
after you can stand here and watch if you like -- John, this may be your
last chance to see the others perform."
Gene was not sure why this should be so, but he said nothing. Irma, the
sword swallower, walked over to the end of the row and stood waiting.
Wilcox cleared his throat. "Now, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "the act
you are about to witness is one of the most amazing, the most incredible,
in the history of entertainment. I introduce to you Irma LeFever, the
only woman fire eater and sword swallower in the world?"
Irma bowed, then pretended to pick up something in both hands. She held
these invisible objects up for inspection, then put one of them down and
raised the other. Leaning backward until her face was turned to the sky,
she raised her hand and slowly brought the invisible thing she was holding
nearer to her face. Gene, watching curiously, suddenly realized that the
invisible thing was a metal rod with a ball of rags at the end. The ball
of rags was blazing, and now she was lowering it to her open mouth. She
closed her lips over it, then opened them and withdrew it. She bowed,
then picked up something else invisible and appeared to drink. Now she
raised the rod again and blew her breath over the end of it while Wilcox
stepped out of the way. The illusion had become so vivid that Gene could
see the blast of flame as she sprayed some inflammable liquid over the
end of the torch.
She bowed again, set the torch down, and picked up something else,
equally invisible. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, you are about to see
an act of death-defying courage and skill. This sword is twenty-seven
inches long, ladies and gentlemen; it is razor sharp and made of the
finest Toledo steel. The slightest miscalculation, and Mademoiselle
LeFever will die an agonizing death."
Irma, with a bored expression, leaned backward again, opened her
mouth wide, and appeared to lower something into it very carefully and
slowly. Now Gene could see the bright sword, which she was holding by
the blade; it slipped down into her throat little by little until at
last the hilt touched her mouth. Then she drew it out with a flourish,
took another bow. Gene applauded; she gave him an ironic glance.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will be kind enough to follow me
into the next room -- " Wilcox moved a few feet, down the row, turned,
and faced them. "I suppose you know how hard money is to come by these
days, but if you happen to know a little magic, it's very easy." He
removed a coin from his ear, dropped it into a cup which had appeared
in his other hand. Next he took coins from his nose, his other ear,
and dropped them into the cup. He reached forward and got another one,
apparently from an invisible member of the audience. Wilcox seemed to
be enjoying himself, and he was very good.
When he had filled the cup with coins, he dropped them, cup and all,
into his pocket and began to produce fans of cards out of nowhere. Gene
applauded again when he was through.
Wilcox bowed. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you. Now because you
have been so very kind, in order to show my appreciation, I am about to
make a special offer, for this day only, it will not be repeated, ladies
and gentlemen: I am going to offer you the secrets of three astounding
tricks with cards, each one of which will mystify your friends; they
require no training, a child can perform them, and I am offering them
to you not for twenty dollars, not for ten, not for five, no, ladies
and gentlemen, not even for one dollar, but all three tricks for the
insignificant sum of fifty cents, a half a dollar. Step right up, if
you please -- who will be first? You, sir? There you are, thank you. And
you, madame?" He pretended to sell several other packets of card tricks,
then led his audience through an invisible curtain to the Fat Lady.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, it is unbelievable but true, the woman you
see before you weighs the astounding total of six hundred and thirty-five
pounds, enough solid human flesh to make four large men and have enough
left over for a small boy. Betty Ann was born thirty-five years ago
in a remote hamlet of Queensland, Australia. She was a normal infant,
[ ladies and gentlemen, but when she was five years old she weighed
eighty-five pounds, and she has continued to grow in weight and girth
every year to this day, until, as you see her before you, she is the
largest human being ever to live on earth, a model -- what do I want to
say? Oh, damn. -- A miracle of nature, ladies and gentlemen, before your
very eyes."