5. Ricketts' Circus in the Capital City, Part Three

(© Podcast text copyright - Peter Schmitz. All rights reserved.)

Welcome and welcome and welcome again to Adventures in Theater History. This is Part Three of the story about Rickett’s Circus in the Capital City. If you haven’t listened to parts One and Two yet, you’ll certainly want to go back and do so, it will provide all the context you need for this one.

When we left off, we were discussing how the British equestrian John Bill Ricketts had learned his trade in the increasingly theatrical popular form of entertainment that involved men and horses - along with a few clowns and acrobats. Ricketts brought his horses and his company to the new nation of the United States in the early 1790s, when Philadelphia was still the seat of national government.

Initially, at least, fortune smiled upon Ricketts. We have detailed, in Part One of our story, how Ricketts arrived in America in 1792. Initially he landed in and then performed in Boston, then he traveled down the New England coastal towns along Long Island Sound, doing shows, He came through New York City did shows there - on the corner of Broadway and Greenwich, one of the earliest ever known Broadway shows, in fact - But at that time New York was not a very grand or impressive city. It was still recovering from the rather rough spell it had gone through during the American Revolution. It had very briefly been the capital city of the United States, but then the seat of government, with Congress and the Supreme Court and the Treasury and all the rest had moved to Philadelphia. (That was the famous “Room Where It Happened Scene” from Hamilton, to once again orient all those devotees of that show. One interesting aspect of that show, of course, as its creator Lin-Manuel Miranda has admitted is that it really shortchanges all the historical events that happen in Philadelphia, hardly mentions Philadelphia at all. But that’s just a side note - I love the show as much as the rest of you.. .)

Ricketts, like any touring performer, wanting to be a hit in the center of things, had finally settled in Philadelphia by the Fall of 1792, where he set up a riding school and an amphitheater at the corner of 12th and Market streets in the Capital City of the young American republic.

Ricketts never stayed in one city for too long, as we mentioned last time. His various American tours have been well detailed by many different historians, and we have one astonishingly vivid first-hand account of them in the memoir of the dancer John Durang. His manuscript was finally printed in 1966 as: The Memoir of John Durang. (And if his last name sounds familiar, yes he was an ancestor of the playwright Christopher Durang). As the circus historian Dominique Jando points out, in his book Phillip Astley and the Horsemen who invented the Circus -  by 1791, a Mr. ‘Jacob’ Ricketts was listed as living at a building at 20 Broadway, at the corner of Greenwich Street in Manhattan. This was exactly the address where Ricketts would later build his New York City amphitheatre. Possibly he had had the foresight to have agents or friends secure a city lot for him, ahead of his arrival. After all, in 1809 Pepin and Breschard, the French equestrians whom we will meet again later, had an agent buy the lot and begin construction for their circus building (which would eventually become the Walnut Street Theatre) in Philadelphia long before they even arrived in the city. It is entirely possible that Ricketts had made a similar arrangement in New York. 

  Though Ricketts would spend much time and professional effort in New York City and elsewhere in America, We will counter the New York-centric bias of such stories as we find in the musical Hamilton. This account will concentrate principally on the periods that he and his company performed in Philadelphia, from his triumphant first arrival in the public arena to his final exit.

We’ve already seen how he gained the attention and evident approval of President George Washington, charmed many of the members of Philadelphia's upper crust, and gladly took the money of crowds of everyone else who came to see his equestrian entertainments in April and May of 1793.  

By June 1793, most of Ricketts’ British company, including the Spinacutas and his younger brother Francis, had themselves traveled across the Atlantic and joined him in America and were adding to the attractions of the show. He had even recruited the first truly American member of the company, a seven year-old boy billed as “Master Strobach”, to perform as Mercury in his signature routine. (His initial attempt to recruit the local dancer and comedian John Durang, however, was not persuasive. “I told him I was doubtful of my abilities - in horsemanship - and there[fore] beg[ged] to decline his kind offer, for which I was sorry for some time after.”) Attendance at the Market  and 12th street location seems to have been sufficient enough to allow Ricketts to announce that he had delayed plans to leave Philadelphia for New York. But again, this may also have been a bit of a humbug - a version of that old advertising line beloved by all performers as they come to the end of a long engagement: “Held Over By Popular Demand”.

In July of 1793, as he finally prepared to leave Philadelphia, Ricketts used yet another well-worn marketing ploy, and announced that he would present a charity performance at his arena whose receipts would go to the poor of the city. This apparently sparked - as the showman had no doubt foreseen - a broad attendance by the elite classes of Philadelphia, who wished to be seen as charitable. Perhaps even some of the wealthy refugees from the French island colony of Saint Domingue (who were resident in Philadelphia at the time, having fled the slave rebellion taking place there) were present as well.

General Washington, this time accompanied by his wife, was once again in attendance. Philip Freneau, the editor of the anti-Federalist (and therefore anti-Washington) newspaper the National Gazette, was there as well, surveying the scene with a jaundiced eye. He observed with some satisfaction that the crowd did not give the President anything resembling the cheers and applause he had received early in his Administration, even when Ricketts had offered a public toast from horseback to his Most Eminent Guest during the course of the show.  Freneau wryly noted that something had also changed in the attitudes of the formerly anti-theater Quakers towards public performance:

Being a spectator at the late performance of Mr. Rickets, which was intended for the benefit of the poor,  . . I was happy to discover [the audience] was composed of the best of our citizens, who no doubt walked to the Circus, not to gratify their eyes by viewing the exploits of a skilled horseman,  . . . or please their hearing by the trifling wit of the clown, but merely to enjoy the satisfaction of contributing to the alleviation of the distresses of the wretched. These pious gentlemen, (who lately opposed a similar amusement,) . . . evidenced the satisfaction they felt from the abilities of the performers, and the jollity of contingent circumstances. It actually appeared as if the huzzas had become a substitute for the amen.  . . . Let such men answer whether there is more criminality in attending the Theatre, than in placing themselves in a barefaced manner to view the trifling and less instructive an amusement of the Circus?

Freneau stated that he intended no criticism of Mr. Ricketts, whose horsemanship, as well as his charity, he roundly praised. No doubt fully pleased both by this good press and public approval, Ricketts gave a final show in Philadelphia on July 22nd. 

As it turned out, this was a fortunate and well-timed departure. Perhaps it even saved the lives of Ricketts and the members of his company. For, after he left, the famously unpleasant Philadelphia hot summer weather truly began to set in. That’s when it became clear that perhaps those refugees from Saint Domingue, or as we would say today, Haiti, had brought a virus with them, as well. As the temperatures rose, the multitudes of rain barrels and stagnant puddles near the city docks became breeding grounds for a fearsome import: the larvae of the insect Aedes aegypti, the carrier of the disease commonly known as Yellow Fever. 

As the mosquitoes began to swarm in the early August heat and humidity, the deaths of two Philadelphians from this dreaded disease were reported in the crowded neighborhoods close to the Delaware River. At first authorities blamed a shipment of rotting coffee on the docks for spreading ‘foul air’, but despite efforts to clean the docks, and to treat the initial victims with harsh purgatives and bloodletting - a common treatment of 18th Century medicine, the disease continued to spread to more people. 

It was a portent of the widespread and deadly epidemic that was to come, one that would eventually claim 5000 or more victims in Philadelphia, or about ten percent of the city’s population, striking down people of all classes. Many of the stricken did eventually recover, but those who did not would perish in a terrifying storm of delirium, blood and black vomit.   Even Mayor Powel, who had accompanied George Washington to see Ricketts perform in April, was dead of the disease by September of 1793. (Washington himself had left the city for his home in Virginia.) As both infection and public panic spread, desperate measures were taken by the city authorities. At the worst depths of the pestilence even the amphitheatre that had housed Ricketts’ Circus at Twelfth and Market Streets was commandeered. Its boxes, stables and riding ring were soon filled not with joyous applause and the smell of well-groomed horses, but instead with sad scenes and the horrible miasma rising from both the dying and the dead.  Eventually other venues for care of the sick were found, but it is doubtful the circus building could ever again be seen in the same light-hearted manner as it had upon its first opening to the public. 

As the cold weather of late autumn finally arrived in November, the mosquitoes and the Yellow Fever epidemic finally abated. President Washington, the Supreme Court, and the Congress eventually returned to their duties in the national capital. Plays and other events which tended to gather crowds had been officially suspended during the pestilence, however, and their normal operations only slowly recovered. Ricketts and his equestrian company had been wise to stay well away, but since they were having considerable success in other American cities, there was sufficient inducement not to hurry back to Philadelphia anyway. After lengthy and successful sojourns in New York and Charleston, Ricketts returned to his amphitheater at Twelfth and Market only in the Fall of 1794. It had been over a full year since his departure. He must have been dismayed and discouraged by the sorry state of the structure. Certainly he did not stay in Philadelphia for long, performing there for only a few weeks.  Nevertheless, his show left a refreshing impression on one Philadelphian, who wrote: “It may be said that he is perhaps the most graceful, neat, and expert public performer on horseback, that ever appeared in any part of the world, at least the Amateurs, who have seen the best equestrians in Europe, are of this opinion.” Further, he thought that Ricketts’ theatrical exploits in the ravaged city went a good way “to dispel the gloom of the thoughtful, exercise the lively activity of the young and gay, and relax the mind of the sedentary and industrious trader.” If this was in fact a sentiment widely held in Philadelphia, it could be considered evidence that the anti-theatrical Quaker mindset was now clearly a minority view there.

Still, Ricketts had few inducements to linger in Philadelphia. Not only was there the sorrow of the recent epidemic, but he must have felt the absence of the Spinacutas, who had stayed behind in Charleston, and evidently he had also lost the services of young Master Strobach, who disappears at this point in all descriptions of the company. There was considerable theatrical competition from the “New Theatre”, which Reinagle and Wignall were at last opening upon Chestnut Street (after themselves being much hindered by the Yellow Fever epidemic). Additionally, there was a detachment of the Old American Company from New York, which was gamely playing an abbreviated season in the Old Southwark Theatre on South Street. On November 3rd Ricketts gave his final show of the season in Philadelphia, and took his horses again to New York, and then by ship to Charleston, South Carolina.

Indeed, New York City, which was already showing signs of eventually moving beyond Philadelphia in both population and commercial activity, was an important market for Ricketts. He had already commissioned the construction of a commodious performance space on the corner of Broadway and Exchange, one that was ready for him when he returned there in late 1794. This new building had a roof over the entire arena, more comfortable seating for up to 1500 people at a time, lamps and stoves for lighting and heat in the winter, and most importantly - a stage at one end. In fact, if we define the circus as being a combination of acrobatic feats, equestrian display, and theatrical events (a la Astley and Hughes from our last episode) under one roof and on one program, then perhaps we must acknowledge that it was New York, and not Philadelphia, which truly housed the first circus in America. The Sully family, a large and talented group of comedians and pantomime artists whom he had met in South Carolina, now joined the company and they were placed in charge of creating the non-equestrian aspects of the performance. On the stage of his new “Rickett’s Amphitheatre” these new comedians, clowns and musicians were integrated into his show. He even presented his first complete pantomime, a spectacular fantasy story (sad to say, probably involving a fair amount of blackface portrayal) entitled The Cannibal’s Farce.Ricketts was now firmly part of the nascent theatrical scene in the New World. He remained in New York until April of 1795, and then took his company, with all this new material in its repertoire, north to Boston for May, June and July.

One must admire Ricketts’ considerable business acumen and personal energy, in an era of daunting travel delays and difficulties in communication. While he was performing in shows, training his animals, and running his company, he was also directing from afar the construction of several large building projects. (One can just imagine the dismay of the members of any modern generation of touring performers, if they were required not only to create and act in their shows, but also to construct their own physical performance venues in every city they appeared in.) He must have controlled a large amount of investment capital to finance the ambitious touring and theater construction, as well as maintaining the care of his equine and human company members. Letters of credit must have been obtained from local merchants in every city he visited, and his growing reputation perhaps made them more willing to take his bond. Now even more financing would be needed, because his new plans for Philadelphia were his most ambitious yet: he was building a new Circus.

This project was certainly the most grandly named of all his arenas: “Ricketts’ Amphitheatre and Art Pantheon”. There was no explanation for use of the term “Art Pantheon”, other than to note that the tendency for circus men to use grandiloquent phrasing and a bit of humbuggery can be seen from the earliest days. There was also a performance venue called the ‘’Pantheon” built in Boston in the 1780s, which Ricketts would have known, and may have borrowed the term for his new structure in Philadelphia. 

The location of the Pantheon was significant: the southwest corner of Sixth and Chestnut Streets, directly across from his main competition in the Philadelphia market for public entertainment. This was, of course, The New Theater, an elegant new building modeled on the Royal Theatre in Bath. Reinagle and Wignall’s troupe of professional British actors were now performing a large selection of classic and new dramas for Philadelphia’s, and indeed the country’s, elite entertainment. Still, the Chestnut Street company’s managers gazed warily as the Saturday evening crowds began gathering across the street at the Art Pantheon. As the early American actor William Wood would recall ruefully in his memoirs, all theatrical managers knew that a circus performance could siphon away an audience, even more than another ‘legitimate’ company performing nearby would. “The circus proved a more serious rival than the theater . . . and inflicted much injury on us,” sighed Wood. Reinagle and Wignall attempted to offer plays on Saturday evenings against the equestrian shows, but soon backed off when Ricketts threatened to compete with them every day of the week. The manager conceded, and an understanding was reached. The rival companies agreed to perform on alternate days: the New Theater offered plays on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and the circus performed on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. 

It was also notable that in America’s capital city, the new circus building was to be a neighbor to the State House (nowadays known as Independence Hall) where Congress met. True, it was common in Philadelphia to have a close proximity of cultural exhibition sites and political arenas - Charles Wilson Peale’s Museum of Natural History curiosities were displayed on the second floor of the building, after all. Also nearby was the American Philosophical Society, and the building housing the Library Company. Directly across the street from Ricketts, at the southeast corner of Sixth and Chestnut was the wing of the State House complex that housed the Supreme Court of the United States. (One wonders if deliberations or legal arguments were ever disrupted by the cheers of the crowds across the street.) The President’s House, where Washington would reside until the end of his term in March of 1797, was only a block away, at the corner of 6th and Market Streets.  Directly to the west of the Pantheon stood Oeller’s Hotel, which served visiting politicians and dignitaries. Ricketts’ Circus was no longer occupying a liminal or marginal space in the city. This was a location guaranteed to gather public attention. Ricketts was willing to invest a not insignificant sum of $20,000 in its construction. 

Although it was made of wood and not brick or stone, the Circus and Art Pantheon was built to attract the eye. To match the classical architectural elements of many recent buildings in Philadelphia, including that of the New Theater across Chestnut Street, it had a portico of tall classical columns fronting the building (in tribute to its namesake in Rome). Above the circular structure of the arena soared a large conical and tent-like roof, at the peak of which - fifty feet in the air - was the cast iron figure of an equestrian standing on a horse. On the corner was a lower rectangular building which housed stables, and also a coffee shop for the public. Inside the 72-foot diameter performance space were arranged enough seats for over a thousand spectators. At the far end was a stage. Ricketts was prepared to present a true combination of equestrian feats and dramatic action. Like its rival city of New York, Philadelphia now had a true “circus”.

Well in the tradition of all great showmen, I’m going to have to leave you in suspense about what happens next. Will our hero find success and fortune in Philadelphia, America’s Capital City? We’ll find out! Thanks for listening, and be sure to look for the edition of the podcast. Join us then for Part of Four of Rickett’s Circus in the Capital City, here on “Adventures in Theater History”