At Ward Hall’s house in Gibtown. From left to right: Ward, Bruce Snowdon holding a two-headed chicken, little Pete Terhurne, and me. December, 2003.
Ward Hall passed away today. The King of the Sideshows started his career in the 1940s and, despite numerous claims of retiring, he never stopped working. I had the great pleasure of meeting Ward in 2003 while doing research for my book, American Sideshow. I’d had numerous calls with him, each of which lasted about two hours. At the end he’d apologize for not spending more time on the phone. I was grateful for any minute of his time he offered me.
My wife and I visited him in Gibsonton, Florida, that winter. He and his partner, Chris Christ, welcomed us into their home for a couple of days, sharing stories, photos and answering any questions we had. Ward even drove us around Gibtown (as it’s known by those in the know) giving us the full tour.
One evening, after spending hours chatting in his home, it was time to decide where to get dinner. We’d already eaten at the Giant’s Camp Restaurant and at the Showtown Lounge—the two must-visit places—so we opted for Mexican food. We sat down, ordered, and then discovered it was karaoke night. So, as people belted out songs in Spanish at the top of their lungs, we listened as closely as possible to Ward and Chris continuing their endlessly entertaining stories.
Ward was a tremendous help in the creation of my book. His generosity, kindness, and unwavering spirit for life and curiosity will never be forgotten. I know he had the same effect on many others over the decades.
Rest in peace, Ward. I know you’ll give Heaven a helluva show.
Below is an excerpt from my book:
If P.T. Barnum were alive today, he would either be a dear friend or a bitter rival of Ward Hall. Hall is one of the last showmen from a bygone era. Blessed with a gift of gab and a flair for entertaining, his successful career in the business began in the 1940s and lasted until his retirement at the end of 2003. It was only supposed to last a couple of weeks. Or so his father thought when he let him join the circus back in 1946.
Hall was born in the early 1930s in a small town in western Nebraska. “It was 120 degrees in the summer, 40 below in
My Very Unusual Friends, by Ward Hall. He had many.
the winter, I wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as I was old enough to know there was another place,” he said. An urge to join the circus led first led him to the library, where he studied books on fire eating and magic. By 15, Hall dropped out of school and joined Dailey Brothers Circus for $30 a week. Although he performed magic, he soon gave it up for ventriloquism because, as he explained: ‘I am primarily a lazy person and I objected to having to reload all that magic stuff for each performance.’ The dummy was one simple prop.
Hall’s ambitions grew, and by 1948 he teamed up with showman and knife thrower Harry Leonard and joined Rogers Brothers Circus in Texas. After the resident sword swallower and sideshow manager continually missed shows, Hall took over the reins. From that point on, he managed various sideshows with different outfits until ultimately owning his own production.
When Leonard passed away in the 1960s, Hall hooked up with an aspiring showman named Chris Christ. By 1967, the partnership resulted in the Hall & Christ Sideshow, but was later rechristened the Christ & Hall Sideshow. As Hall explained, he couldn’t put his name before Christ. Together, the showmen produced sideshows for Circus Vargas, Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey, and countless state fairs over the decades. In addition to their live shows, Hall and Christ were involved in the production of numerous sideshow documentaries, including The Last American Sideshow and Being Different.
Having worked with hundreds of performers throughout his career, Hall became known as the King of the Sideshows. His favorite attractions were Schlitzie the Pinhead and Percilla the Monkey Girl. But it wasn’t the unusual freaks that made the most money. ‘People love giants, midgets, and fat people,’ Hall said. ‘Because this is the fairy tale. Jack Sprat ate no fat, his wife would eat no lean, Jack and the Beanstalk, the little people of Gulliver’s Travels. These are stories people have been told when they were just small children. It’s much easier to sell an attraction that you can paint the mental pretty picture about, rather than something gruesome,’ he explained. ‘We’re going to have a man drive nails into his head with a hammer, we’re going to have someone put their face down in broken glass. Or, we’re going to see these wonderful little people. The world’s smallest married couple. Why, they’re so tiny, so cute, you’d want to hold them in the palm of your head. It’s much easier to sell the pretty picture.’ Of course, while it was the freaks that sold the tickets, it was the working acts that entertained the people. The giants were not as tall as promised, the midgets not as small, and the fat people not as fat.
Though he’s most renowned as a showman, Hall has also enjoyed a writing career, which has included several theater musicals. Now retired, he shares his Gibsonton, Florida home with Christ and little Pete Terhurne, who’ve also retired from the sideshow business. Hall still stays busy writing and lecturing.
I bought a guitar-playing turtle and a couple of videos from Ward. This is the receipt he gave me. Note the location and signature.
