Oh, The Glamourous Life!

Dear Constant Reader,

In May (on Toni Elling’s birthday, in fact) I took “The History of Cooch Tent Sideshows”, an on-line class from the Chocolate City Burlesque Academy, taught by founder (and dear friend) Bebe Bardeaux. The class was excellent, as were the others I took, and it reminded me that I never reviewed this book in my collection.

Girl Show: Into the Canvas World of Bump and Grind by A. W.  Stencell, 1999.

As long as there have been carnivals, there have been girl shows. This history covers the early days, starting with the 1893 Columbia Exposition through the decline in the 1980s. The many photographs illustrate all aspects of the carnival: girls in action and backstage, advertisements, posters, show fronts, and more. In the back there’s a glossary for some of the carney terms used throughout book, like single-O (a show with only one attraction), blow off (a final act for an additional fee), and bally (a free taste of the show inside).

Some of the biggest names in burlesque worked carnival girl shows: Gypsy Rose Lee, Sally Rand, and Lili St. Cyr, to name a few. Many of the shows were big production revues with relatively elaborate sets and lavish costumes. But there was a lot of grit behind the glitz. There were plenty of cooch shows where the girls worked nude and allowed the patrons to grope them… and more*. And this went on for 10, 12, 14 shows a day.

The book spotlights some of the great names in the carnival biz, some of whom are well known to burlesque fans and some who are more obscure. There’s a fabulous section all about Tirza the Wine Bath Girl and the evolution of her act, with photos. And there’s a mention of that girl who set her tits on fire. Sound like anyone you know?

Besides the girls, the book covers other people who worked these shows. There were talkers, who were not, as you might suppose, hosts or MCs. They stood out front with some of the girls from the show to entice the audience in. A good talker was an entertainer in his** own right as well as persuasive. The best needed only a few girls around him to advertise the show — his patter did most of the work. There’s a brief mention of Leon Claxton’s Harlem in Havana show in this chapter. You can learn more about it in Leslie Cunningham’s book, Brown Skin Showgirls. There were the candy butchers technically sold boxes of candy, but also worked a con to get people to buy by promising fabulous or risqué prizes. They were found in burlesque theatres as well and could have very entertaining pitches. There are also sections on producers, show families, and general carnival life.

It’s a good overview of the traveling show — a fine companion to Carnival Strippers and Brown Skin Showgirls.

*There are photos of this. Just a friendly warning.
**There were female talkers but they were in the minority

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Dear Constant Reader,

It’s Wednesday! How about a book review. I know it’s been so long, but I had reviewed every burlesque book in the library at Stately Babydoll Manor. We’ve acquired a few new books for the Library and I’m getting back in the habit of reviewing them.

Carnival Strippers by Susan Meiselas (1976).

A visit to an antiquarian book fair turned up this long out-of-print volume of photography. The price tag was somewhat daunting, but it tells an important story of burlesque and Scratch was able to haggle a bit for it and another book I’ll review later.

I know there’s a fantasy that burlesque was and still is all champagne and rhinestones. And we modern performers certainly like to perpetuate it. This book bluntly puts that to the lie. In the early 70’s burlesque was spiraling downward, still hanging in there, but well beyond the glory days. One of the lowest venues for the burlesque dancer was the carnival girl show. The work was hard and paid poorly. They traveled all summer, living in trailers, until the season was over. Most of the dancers stripped to full nude and allowed the audience members to grope them. There was an expectation that they would offer the “lunch counter” — sit on the edge of the stage and have cunnilingus performed on them by the audience. And there was an assumption that they would turn tricks as well (some did, some didn’t).

Meiselas traveled with carnivals from 1973-1975, photographing the denizens of the girl shows and recording stories and conversations. Other than an introduction from the photographer, the book’s text is entirely transcriptions of those recordings. The photos are untitled, so it’s unclear if the subjects of the photos are also the subjects of the accompanying transcription.

The photographs are gritty and occasionally grainy and the text frequently disturbs. The photographer does not pass judgement, merely records what she sees and hears. She gives a certain dignity to the dancers, shown in varying stages of dress, on stage and off. Even the “lunch” shots are documentary rather than titillating. Few subjects even acknowledge the camera; most look too tired or busy to bother posing. There’s a poignancy to the shots of the naked dancers waiting backstage, playing cards, drinking beer, smoking, napping. Then add the text about the degrading treatment by the audience or how the dancer needs to be drunk or stoned to perform (or be performed on) and the reality of their lives is painful.

The second section of the book is entitled “Portraits” in which the performers do pose for the camera and the accompanying stories are longer and more intimate. There are even a couple of poems (anonymously authored). All the dancers tell how they got into the girl show: one began in burlesque, another is part of a family that runs the show, some had nowhere else to go. Some seem content with their choices, some are clearly miserable and trapped. Lena’s story is dated over the course of several months and it’s heartbreaking to watch her evolution from “I’m gonna strip till I get on my feet” to “girl shows are absolutely the worst thing anybody could ever do” to “they want to get up there and lap your pussy and you get a feeling of exultation because you’re looking down at a bunch of animals at your feet”.

Susan Meiselas writes “Like the show, the book represents coexistent aspects of a phenomenon, one which horrifies, one which honors. If the viewer is appalled by what follows, that reaction is not so different from the alienation of those who participate in the shows.” I think this is the key to the collection. The dancers are in a horrific place, but the camera honors them, showing the dignity as well as the degradation.

It’s important for all burlesque performers to know that this is a part of our heritage too. Our sisters in shimmy aren’t just the glittering headliners, our beloved Legends, but these women too, taking it off show after show, town after town for the worst kind of audience. And let us be thankful we don’t have follow in their footsteps.

These writings and other creative projects are supported by my Patrons. Thank you so much! To become a Patron, go to my Patreon page. Or you can just tip me if you liked this.

Dear Constant Reader,

Despite being so close to finished with this reviewing project, I bought another book. I couldn’t help it — I’d just been to a local fair.

Blue Ribbons and Burlesque: A Book of Country Fairs, by Charles Fish (2003).

In 1969 and 1970 Charles Fish photographed local fairs in his home state of Vermont. Years later he complied them into this collection of images and reminiscences from himself and people who were involved in the fairs. The folks he interviewed also helped identify the subjects of the photographs (who were occasionally themselves). The book examines animals as objects of beauty (prize cows), strength (ox pulls), and speed (horse racing), wanders down the midway to the games, rides and food, views the midget car race track, and at last visits the girlie shows.

Despite “burlesque” being in the title, it’s just one short chapter with about 2 dozen photos of the exteriors of the shows. The anecdotes were interesting — a woman turned away from a show came back with her hair under her hat and dirt smudged on her face, looking enough like a man to get in. But the information is generally pretty thin. If you’re really interested in carnival girl shows, read Girl Show instead.

Although it was charming to read, I can’t recommend it as a burlesque book. There’s too little on the topic to be worth it.

One more review down. If I don’t buy any more books, there are only FIVE left!

P.S. The fair I went to had no girl show, although there was a “live” mermaid.