PLEASE NOTE:  The following is the TEXT ONLY of DK’s Carnivale Pitch Document Character Biographies.  All Artwork (by Daniel Knauf) can be found in our PHOTOS section in the DK’s CARNIVALE CHARACTERS BIOS ARTWORK album.


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Series Concept & Background
by Daniel Knauf

Before the Beginning
Character Bios


Before the Beginning, after the great celestial war that rocked the very foundations of Heaven and Hell, God and Satan established an uneasy truce. Never again would they face each other in direct confrontation. So God created the Earth, inhabiting it with the crafty ape he called Man. And henceforth, to each generation was born a creature of Light and a creature of Darkness, and they would gather to them men of ilk nature and thus, by proxy, carry on the war between Good and Evil.

So it was that on the dawn of the final century of the Second Millenium, two creatures
walked among men, more powerful than any that had preceded them. The Dark One was named Lucius Crowe. Through cunning and deceit, he became entrusted by le Blanc, the very One born to destroy him. When the time was right, Lucius struck down his enemy, stealing the greater measure of le Blanc’s power to augment his own.

Vastly weakened, grievously wounded, le Blanc dared to unburden himself of his birthright and live as a mortal. His refuge was shattered when he heard Lucius—now known to the world as Brother Justin—preaching his venom through the new medium called radio. 

As le Blanc had foolishly neglected his duty, the Dark One had grown strong, amassing a
great army of followers. Even when le Blanc was whole and at the peak of his power, such an opponent would be formidable. In his current state, the battle would be lost before it began.

So he sought out his small, brave band of disciples, the cabal that would later become known as Carnivále. For many years they wandered the Heartland as spiritual renegades—helping the helpless, giving hope to the hopeless, cautiously nibbling at the edges of Brother Justin’s blossoming darkness. Traveling by night, they were perpetually hunted and harassed, often hungry, cold and tired. Nevertheless, they persevered, praying for the day when the next in the ancient Line of Light would make himself known.

Then they found a boy named Ben Hawkins.

Seventeen years old, Hawkins was born to a bitter woman who shunned him for his power, branding it as something wicked. Repressed, it slumbered within him; long forgotten until the day it was finally awakened by Carnivále. As it uncoiled, so too did his terror and selfloathing. 

Thus, the fate of mankind rested on the quivering shoulders of the most reluctant
of Saviors.

The final battle began on the blasted landscape of the American Dustbowl between the two Great Wars of the 20th Century. It ended on the day a false sun set the skies ablaze above the Alamogordo desert in New Mexico, and The Bomb was born. And man forever traded away Wonder for Reason. 

The Chronicles of the Giant Gabriel
©1958, Lighthouse Press


Carnivále - Character Bios

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: There are a number of individuals who assisted me in compiling the following information, namely Lorne Champlain of the Wichita Museum of Carnivals and Traveling Shows, Sandy Watson of the FBI Archives, Charles K. Gould and my right hand, Diane Winder.

I would particularly like to single out Victoria Villanueva-Chomski. Although I was able to gather some secondary material from printed sources, oral tradition is the nature of the beast, so I was largely dependent on Tori’s personal momentos and recollections of her late mother, Lila, the so-called “Bearded Woman of Brussels” (in itself an indication of the slippery nature of a milieu in which alliteration is held in greater esteem than facts—according to Tori, her mother was born in Mexico City).

Though she wasn’t graced with her mother’s facial hair, Tori is an interesting character in her own right, having traveled the carnival circuit for the bulk of her 62 years. Now retired in Sarasota, Florida, she was kind enough to open her scrapbooks, personal collections and her heart to this writer. For that, he is deeply appreciative.


Benjamin Hawkins

Joined Carnivále in July, 1930 as a rigger. 
Former occupation: farmer.

It appears Mr. Hawkins found employment with the company quite by accident (in his own words, he was “shanghaied”). According to Lila Villanueva, Mr. Hawkins was a “healer.” This talent was apparently suppressed from an early age and only fully revealed itself approximately a year after he joined the company. This writer feels Hawkins’ “talent” is vastly overstated—virtually Christ-like in its manifestation, for example:

(Excerpt from the unpublished memoir of Lila Villanueva) “. . . I thought I saw it all but this was truly a wondrous thing to behold. The boy (Hawkins) took Gabriel’s neck and put his hands on it and at first we thought he was going to hurt him since it was already broken (his neck, that is) but Sofie told us to stand back and as God is my witness the boy’s hands SHINED!!! It was like he was holding the sun in his hands and I looked until I couldn’t no more (sic). There was spots on my eyes it was so bright and I remember seeing the bones in the boy’s hands. Plus there was a HOT WIND and the scent of ROSES. I recall that to this day. Then it was gone. And after, Gabriel’s neck was healed. In a couple days he was up and wrestling just like he always did . . .”

Obviously, without supporting documentation or testimony, it is likely that this event is an exaggeration if not a complete fabrication on Ms. Villanueva’s part. According to her daughter, Lila Villanueva was an inveterate user of hashish. It is doubly dubious in that there is no reference whatsoever of any special healing ability in Hawkins’ own journal, although the last entry was made less than a week after this event allegedly occurred.
There are, however, tantalizing—albeit cryptic—allusions to being “marked,” and an incomplete account of an early childhood event in which his mother drowned some kittens that he “brought back.” These might reference the purported healing ability or be manifestations of psychological problems.

Secondary Sources:

(Excerpts from the journal of Ben Hawkins)

(Initial entry dated 02/06/29)

Not much to say so far, really. I’m seventeen. I worked since I can remember. Had some schooling and did good up to the sixth grade when my grampa got the cancer and couldn’t work the land so good.  After he passed on, it was just my Ma and me. Then it was just Sunday-school down at the Four Square, which doesn’t really teach you nothing but how not to go to Hell. I read books when I can get them—mostly Jules Verne and detectives and other fancy stuff. Plus the Bible--we always reading the Bible.

(Entry dated 09/29/29)

I never knew my daddy. My ma says he died in the Great War when I was just a nipper. Two years ago I heard Mrs. Vernor at the seed store talking when she didn’t think I was listening and she says “there goes that little Hawkins bastard.” I asked Ma what’s a bastard and my God did she beat me blue. Ma’s tough as a stale biscuit, and she can be mean. But she’s fair. I know what a bastard is now. I don’t see what difference it makes. I’m here, ain’t I? Just like anybody else. But lots of people think it makes a big difference and I just say to Hell with them.

(Entry dated 10/15/29)

It’s my birthday today and Ma made flapjacks (my favorite, she makes them thin). Plowed all day and by God it was a hot one. I was all fixed to write about the earliest thing I remember, but I don’t remember much about being little. I remember I think I had some kittens once. I dream them, sometimes. More later. I’m tired.


(Entry dated 12/24/29)

Mostly I just worked. Ma’s been feeling poorly and between tending her and the land and cooking for the both of us I almost forgot it was Christmas coming up. Then the damn Merchant Trust went and reminded me by nailing a Letter of Intent to Foreclose on the door while I was out digging a new irrigation ditch. Merry damn Christmas.

(Entry dated 02/11/30)

Bad night. I fetched Doctor Lawter in town. He says Ma got the stomach cancer just like her Daddy. He didn’t ask for money and I didn’t have any anyway.

(Entry dated 06/15/30)

Not much time to write. Ma’s hardly more than a ghost. The last two days she stares out the window and makes a sound with every breath like a creaky windmill. I hold her hand but she’s not there. We got a out pretty good crop but nobody to help me harvest it and it’s mostly going to seed.

(Entry dated 07/09/30)

Ma died last night. I was sad, but I was happy she didn’t live to see the vultures from the Merchant’s Trust take the farm. That would’ve just broke her heart. I guess you call that a blessing, right?

(Entry dated 07/12/30)
So I got shanghaied by a group of carnies. The boss, Samson, took me on as a rigger. He’s a midget hardly comes up to my belt-buckle, but he’s strong as an ox and real smart. Talks like a professor. Half the stuff he says I can’t make heads or tails. But it sounds real pretty and I suppose some folks are impressed. The rest of them, they’re all right I guess. At first all you’re seeing is how odd they are. But pretty soon, they’re just people, and nice people mostly. Put their pants on one leg at a time. Except one. The head rigger, Jones, is a gimp and has a mouth on him. Got to admit though, he can back it up. Almost
knocked me out with his fist. But when I pitch in, he can be okay. He’s always calling me a hayseed and whatnot, but I get the feeling he wasn’t born too far from a plow himself.
There’s a gypsy-girl named Sofie who I helped and she’s real pretty. I don’t want to say I’m sweet on her because I’m not. But she’s about as nice a girl I ever met. Real pretty, too. I guess I already said that. I’m tired. More later.

(Entry dated 07/12/30)

Samson (not a midget after all, but a dwarf he says—I don’t know what the big deal is) offered me a job as rigger until we get to LeMars. The farm’s gone and I don’t have much to do anyway so I said yes. My Ma’d be like to have a fit if she saw me running with these characters. But when we get to a big enough town, I’ll try to find a real job.



Edgar “Samson” Leiber:

Edgar Lieber, or Samson, as he preferred to be called, was in charge of Carnivále for the duration of its existence. Lila Villanueva had worked with him on previous circuits and he was a popular (virtually legendary) figure with other carnies of the era. Although he made repeated reference to personal relationships with a number of illustrious individuals of the era (P.T. Barnum, Will Rogers, Charlie Chaplin, etc.), there is no available documentation supporting his claims. Although, Mr. Leiber insisted that he worked for “Management,” it was Lila’s contention that Management was a fabrication on Leiber’s part and he really “ran the show.” Given his diminutive stature, it is possible that Leiber might use such a subterfuge for the dual purpose of lending his orders greater authority plus divesting responsibility in the event his strategies proved unpopular or unsuccessful.

(Transcription of interview conducted by Charles K. Gould, author, CARNIES: Freaks and Flim-Flam Artists of the American Midwest, [Scribner & Sons, 1976] at Casa Verdugo Convalescent Home, Glendale, September 9, 1974)

Gould: You’re a hard man to find, Mr. Leiber-

Samson: Call me Samson.

G: Of course. Samson. I’ve heard a lot about you from other folks I’ve interviewed for my book. If half of it’s true-

S: It is. Plus more. You mind if I smoke?

G: Sure, go ahead.

S: You got a cigarette?

G: Afraid not.

S: Damn. So, what do you want to know about? Houdini? Barnum? Buffalo Bill, Chen and Eng? Hell, I met them all.

G: Let’s start with your childhood.

S: Okeedoke. I was born in Koln, Germany in 1879-

G: So that makes you, what . . . ?

S: Ninety-five years old. My mother put me up for adoption. She was real young. I never met her, but I met her sister once. I grew up . . . (at this point, the subject smiles) . . . or, rather, grew older on the streets. Didn’t take to the foster homes. Stowed away on a freighter to New York City when I was nine. Didn’t speak a word of English but I was a quick learner, especially cursing. I could curse a blue streak two days off the boat. Live in Hell’s Kitchen running numbers for what was left of the Dusters. Shamus Callahan ran the joint. You know Shamus Callahan?

G: I’m sorry. I don’t.

S: You’re kidding. And you’re writing a book? Hell, boy. You better start doing some research. Anyhow, the Micks liked me all right. Used to set me up on the bar and pay me to sing. You know, the typical Mickey Irish crap,(sings) Oh Danny boy . . . I’d set them all crying in their whiskey and throwing coin. Course, back then I had a real sweet tenor, not this old bullfrog croak. You sure you don’t have a cigarette?

G: Sorry.

S: Ahh. It’s a nasty habit. But it’s the last one I got. Where was I?

G: Running numbers for the Irish gangs.

S: Yeah. Right. That took me up to eighty-nine or so. Got in a few scrapes. Then I went to work for hizzoner Phineas Taylor Barnum. He was getting on and he fancied me his next General - as in General Tom Thumb. You do know who that is?

G: Yes.

S: That’s good, because if you didn’t, by God, this interview’d be over real quick. Anyhow, them was sweet days, yes sir. Traveled through Europe and the east part of Russia. Then Mr. Barnum passed on in ’91. I didn’t get along so well with his partner. Jim Bailey could squeeze a nickel so tight the buffalo’d shit. Most of the headliners moved on after that. 

G: What about you?

S: I worked the Wild West Show for a while. Mostly clowning until it got thin in the teens. Sat out a few years. Started drinking a bit. Got in a few scrapes. Got married but she was a tramp so I moved on. Worked different circuits. Mostly Hyde & Teller, on and off. Florida in the winter, up through Boston and Chicago. Worked my way out of the tents and into the trailer. I had a good head for numbers. (At this point, a woman (Shelley M.) enters.)

Shelley: Hey, Daddy.

S: Hey, Shel. You’re early.

Shelley: Traded shifts with Geneva. What’s up?

S: This fella’s Mr. Gould. He’s writing a book about me.

G: Hi. Is this your daughter?
(Laughter)

S: Aww, Hell no. She just calls me- 

Shelley: -Daddy.
(Laughter)

Shelley: Am I interrupting?

S: No, as long as you brought me smokes.

Shelley: (to author) One lung and half a brain. You didn’t give him any, did you?

G: No.

Shelley: That’s good, because then I’d have to kick both your asses.

S: She would. She’s a tough little monkey, this one. Where were we?

G: You were working the mid-west circuit. At what point did you hook up with Carnivále?

(Long silence)

S: I never worked with them.

G: Your name is Edgar Leiber, right? Nickname Samson?

S: Yeah, that’s me. So what?

G: I have a number of sources that say you ran Carnivále from 1928 through the winter of 1939.

S: What sources?

G: A newspaper article. A few other people I interviewed. Lila Villanueva.

S: Never heard of her.

G: Bearded lady. She says she worked with you for years.

S: I said I never heard of her.

G: What can you tell me about the owner of Carnivále. I’ve been getting conflicting stories and I’d really like to set it straight.

S: (angry) Get this (unintelligible) out of here.

Shelley: I think you should leave now, Mr. Gould.

G: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset-

Shelley: It’s okay. We can do this later, right baby?

(End of Interview)

Mr. Gould subsequently notes that though a second session was scheduled, Mr. Leiber was unable to attend due to health conditions. He passed away on his birthday, May 1, 1975, at the age of ninety-six.


The following documents present a very different picture of Mr. Leiber. 

(Excerpt of newspaper article, Jonestown Courier-Gazette, 0701/28)
(Exerpt of articles by Theodore Watson, Kansas City Star, “Woman found Dead,” 07/05/19)


Clayton Jones

One of seven children born to Gerald and Louise Jones in 1897, Clayton, the youngest, demonstrated no interest in following his father and four brothers into farming, leaning more toward athletics—specifically baseball. He was drafted by the White Sox in 1914 (see newspaper articles, next page) and within two years rapidly established himself as starting picture, his career culminating in the pennant drive of 1916.

In 1917, he joined the Army and was assigned to the 115th Infantry and received a crippling leg-wound in France taking a German machine-gun nest. He was subsequently awarded the Medal of Honor in 1919 but was unable to return to his first love, baseball. Subsequent to the war, he drifted to California.

Although there are documented arrest reports (i.e. vagrancy, drunk and disorderly, assault) little is documented for the period covering 1920 through 1929. By his own account, Jones smuggled ran gin up from Ensenada and was employed as a bouncer in an offshore speakeasy/casino for “Spats” O’Shea off the coast of San Diego. This relationship continued until O’Shea was shot to death in the lobby of the Hotel Raymond in Pasadena in 1927.

He was hired as a rigger by Hyde & Teller’s American Amusements in early 1928. It was probably while in their employ that he met “Samson” Leiber. The two subsequently struck up a friendship, albeit a contentious one, that continued for decades. Little else is documented regarding Jones, who, according to Victoria Villanueva-Chomski, died of lung cancer in 1963.


Sofie Agnesh Bojakshiya

While little is known about Sofie Bojakshiya, her mother, Sophia, was revered by the Roma as the “Queen of the Gypsies.” Unlike most of the inflated claims made by carnie denizens, it appears Sophia was a celebrated figure in her time. She read cards for a number of East Coast socialites at the turn of the century, including two First Ladies, Frances Folsom Cleveland and Ellen Louise Axson Wilson.

In 1913, during childbirth or soon thereafter (reports vary), Sophia suffered a series of devastating seizure that left her paralyzed and catatonic. She was subsequently cared for by her sister, Anash, and later by her daughter, Sofie the Younger.

A single photograph has survived, although there is some question whether it is an image of Miss Bojakshiya or her mother. Given the fact that it is a daguerreotype, it’s the writer’s opinion that the photo is of Sofie’s mother as a young woman. In any case, by all accounts, Sofie was, as Lila Villanueva states in her memoirs, “. . . the spitting image of Sophia, only more so.” If so, she must have been a striking young woman.

According to Victoria Villanueva-Chomski, Sofie purportedly did not possess the ability to read the Tarot. Rather, she did so through a powerful telepathic link with her catatonic mother, who lay in the rear of her trailer. Allegedly, when mother and daughter were separated, Sofie’s ability as a seer was virtually nil.

It should be noted that this alleged symbiosis between prophet and telepath, though unique in concept, is only a matter of conjecture based largely on anecdotes related years later by Lila Villanueva. 

NOTE: A full LEXIS/NEXIS search failed to retrieve any public records pertaining to Sofie Bojakshiya.


Brother Justin

Although “Brother Justin” was one of the most powerful evangelical ministers of
the thirties (his radio broadcast, “The Church of the Air,” dominated its time-lot in
every market in which it was syndicated), little biographical material is currently
available. Unlike his more gregarious colleagues, it appears Brother Justin preferred to
keep a low profile, exercising his power by proxy.

Virtually nothing is known of his life prior to “answering the call” and joining The
Order of the Knights of Jericho (KoJ). In the bio attached to the Church’s tracts
(hardly a dependable source for accurate information), Justin lived a “life of corruption and degradation” prior to his conversion.

The KOJ was founded in Arkansas in 1867 as a “religious fraternity” composed of individuals fiercely dedicated to “the fine traditions of America. Unlike their more viscous counterpart, The Ku Klux Klan, the KoJ limited its activities to social gatherings, prayer meetings and the support of segregation laws Accounts vary, but it can be ascertained that the man who would come to call himself “Brother Justin” joined the KoJ sometime between 1921 and 1923. Soon afterwards, the character of the KoJ took a
sharp, virulent turn, scapegoating Jews and Catholics with increasingly toxic rhetoric in their infamous “AWAKE” series of religious tracts (see below). It is hard to say whether this was due to Brother Justin’s meteoric rise through the Order’s ranks or the vast influx of immigration from Eastern Europe. Most likely, it was a combination of the two.


Three KoJ “AWAKE” tracts typical of the hyperbolic racist rhetoric distributed by the church during the 1930’s. (From the collection of John and Dorothy Brunner)


In 1926, Brother Justin ascended to the head of the church through what may be characterized as a “palace coup.” The KoJ’s previous leader, The Most Reverend Brother Charles Henessey, was excommunicated for “sins of the flesh” for seducing a church-member. The young woman at the heart of the scandal, Hannah Jean Lynch, though described as a “fair, chaste flower” by Brother Justin in the formal complaint, was actually a prostitute with a long list of arrests in New Orleans and Charleston.

At the height of its influence, the KoJ’s net worth was estimated to be in the tens of millions, Brother Justin had a lock on politics in the Midwest and the eastern seaboard and a business empire run through half-a-dozen shell corporations.

In the summer of 1928, construction was completed on the “Temple of Jericho” in the desolate Nebraska Badlands, a massive compound housing clerical staff, hierarchy and
the main cathedral. Soon, a sprawling shantytown rose up at its foundation, the effect analogous to a medieval village built in the shadow of the lord’s castle. The Temple itself
was an Art Deco monstrosity, described by Eleanor Roosevelt as “a great, vulgar headless jackal” (see photo, right). Curiously, though the KoJ could be
described as a cult driven by ethnic hatred, Brother Justin held even greater contempt for the Romani (or “Gypsies) and carnival folk. He regarded them as “subhuman manifestations of the beast.”



Today, it strikes one as odd—or even absurd—that someone would heap such scorn on practitioners of what is a fairly passive profession. But at the time it was no laughing matter. Tents we set ablaze by KoJ mobs, their rides and equipment sabotaged. Although usually subjected to the tar and feathers (a practice that sound almost quaint in retrospect, but in reality resulted in serious burns and even death), between 1932 and 1938 it was not uncommon to come across the sad tableau of a lynched family of Gypsies—mother, father and children.

It is pure conjecture on the writer’s part, but it is hard to imagine Brother Justin harboring such rage at the carnival subculture without having been involved himself earlier in life. Perhaps that is what he is alluding to in his veiled references to his early years as rife with “corruption and degradation.”

Brother Justin’s fall was, if anything, even more mysterious than his rise. Though ample references to the KoJ are made through 1938, it seems that he and his church dropped off the face of the planet. There are no records of its demise—no references to the scandals, corruption or economic problems that typically destroy a sect or cult. They simply ceased to exist. It’s as if the KoJ spontaneously collapsed, it’s followers and leadership disbanded and forgotten. As for Brother Justin, his whereabouts and fate are unknown to this day, and his name has faded into obscurity.


Ernst Lodz

Born 1858 in Warsaw Poland. Blind since birth. Mother killed by Cossacks.  Demonstrated an apparent facility for “mind-reading” (mentalism) at the age of three. By all accounts, his ability was extraordinary. Traveled with his father through Eastern Europe. Part of his act was navigating his way flawlessly through “obstacle courses” arbitrarily assembled by audience members. Repeated this feat in the Great Maze in the garden of Prince Leopold Van der Wyk of Luxemborg. Lodz’s father died in a Paris hotel fire in 1875. By then he had established himself in French Society. Performed for private parties, his fees growing stratospheric as his clientele grew more exclusive.

 In 1881, an affair with the Countess du Loc led to a pistol-duel with her husband, in which he shot and killed the Count. While the fact that du Loc was outperformed by a blind man entertained the bourgeoisie, the authorities were unamused. He was subsequently arrested and sentenced to the guillotine.

Apparently, his contacts in high places (and his intimate knowledge of their darkest secrets) saved him from the blade. After four years languishing in prison, he was released on the condition he leave France. True to his word, he disembarked on a German freighter to the United States, his passage paid by his paramour, the Widow du Loc.

Penniless, he traveled south, reestablishing himself with the French expatriate communities in Mobile and New Orleans. Little is known regarding this period in his life. It is rumored he married and lost his wife and a daughter in a tragic accident, the details of which are vague and conflicting. Ms. Villanueva-Chomski was told by her mother that the two lost their lives when the RMS Lusitania was torpedoed in 1915. Charles Gould’s research indicated they had died of asphyxiation due to a pressure-leak in their
townhouse gas-line.

In 1917, Lodz returned to the entertainment circuit, albeit under circumstances far less affluent than in he salad-days in Paris. He met Edgar “Samson” Leiber while working for the Hyde-Teller Company. The two subsequently continuing their friendship through a number of circuits, including the Carnivále Company.

Mr. Lodz died in 1946 of a brain embolism.


Lila Villanueva
The so-called “Bearded Lady of Brussels” was born in Mexico City to a circus family in 1890. Given their genetic predisposition, the hirsute family performed under the stage name “Villalobos” (literally, “House of Wolves”).

Lila, her two brothers, Oscar and Raoul, and her parents traveled throughout Mexico, spurning the freakhow tents for the high-wire. Their appearance alone—particularly the boys, with their thick, black locks of silky hair from head to toe—was enough to gain them fame, but by all accounts, the family’s high-wire act was incomparable. The “Flying Villalobos” were soon signed with the Ringling Brothers Circus, traveling the international circuit for five years before Oscar fell to his death in Copenhagen in 1905, a tragedy from which the family never recovered. Her father, shattered by the loss of his eldest son, committed suicide three years later.

At sixteen, already graced with a thick, silky beard, Lila married for the first time to a ventriloquist, Paco Soza. In her own words, “Paco was beautiful, but that fucking dummy, Gordito, drove me nuts.” After less than six weeks, the marriage was annulled. Over the next fifty years, until her death, Lila was married over nineteen times, “twenty if you count Gordito.”

By her own account, Lila had a voracious appetite for sex and an unending line of paramours, even when she was tipping the scales at over three-hundred pounds. Although her daughter denies her mother engaged in prostitution, Lila proudly admits it no less than nineteen separate times in her memoirs. Especially notable is her claim that she once fellated Henry Ford for a thousand dollars and “.. . he was so happy he threw in a Model-T.”

Although Lila only traveled four years with the Carnivále Company, she was an avid correspondent, acting as a one-woman clearing house for all the gossip and news among the carnies she worked with over the years via the mail. She lived to the grand age of 101, dying quietly in her sleep April 1, 1992.


Alexandria and Caledonia Potter (The Potter Twins)

Banff, Canada, 5/12/08—Alexandria and Caledonia Potter were born out of wedlock and adopted by a local midwife, Mabel Potter, and her husband, Tom. Unlike the more famous Hilton Sisters, they had a wonderful childhood, attending the local school and, with the help of the community, avoiding the glare of the spotlight.

In 1928, their stepfather, Tom, was injured in a hunting accident which left him paralyzed below the waist. Over his and their mother’s objections, the sisters left for New York and were soon charming audiences with their musical ability. Because they did not have the scandalous background and natural showmanship of the Hiltons, they were never quite as successful. However, according to reviews at the time, the Potters were splendid pianists and sang a beautiful close harmony. Furthermore, they were both extremely charming, Alexandria the more outgoing of the two while Caledonia possessed a dry, sophisticated wit. 

They continued on the circuit until 1937, at which time they had saved enough money to provide their parents and themselves a meager pension, returning to their family farm in Canada. Caledonia achieved subsequent success as a novelist under the pen-name of Janus Bunker (no doubt a wry reference to her famous predecessors, Chang and Eng Bunker, the original Siamese Twins). Alexandria was twice married briefly, once to a local grocer, a second time to Jasper Middleton, a rigger with the Carnivále Company, with whom she had a stillborn daughter. Caledonia remained single until the twins’ premature death due to complications of pneumonia in 1943.


Additional Characters:

Gecko The Amazing: Early twenties. A “Lizard Man,” his body covered with thick scales, possessing a vestigial tail. Extremely egotistical. Truly believes that, without him, the show would not go on.

Shoton: Mid-fifies. A full blooded Hopi medicine man—serves as the company’s resident medic, sells potions and elixirs.

Ruthie: Mid-fifties. A wizened snake-handler and part-time preacher.

Gabriel: Ruthie’s son. Early-twenties. A mildly retarded strong-man with the face of an angel. His act consists of feats of strength plus winner-take-all wrestling, all comers at ten to one—five dollars will win you fifty if you lick him. He’s only lost twice.

Floater: Mid-thirties, Irish. Congenital deformity—bisected at the waist. Wicked sense of humor. Moves around by “walking” with his hands.