In autumn of 1890, the circus came to Petaluma

It was billed as “John Robinson’s 10 Big Shows, all combined,” and it was a massive exhibit of grandeur.

I find it interesting that now, 127 years later, Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey not only caved under to animal rights groups and gave up their trained elephants, but have since folded their tents forever. So, kiddies, here’s what it was like, back then.

The Robinson Shows included, “110 male and female artists, scouts, Indians and cowboys, 1,000 men on horses, boxers and wrestlers and three menageries in one.”

Those menageries showed the following unbelievable assortment of animals.

“Zebra, antelope, cougar, buffalo, sloth, gnu, leopards, kangaroo, tapirs, lion, porcupines, badgers, weasels, lynx, gazelles, baboons, monkeys, armadillo, hippo, ostriches and giraffes.”

Good grief, PETA would have a hemorrhage about that today.

There was even more excitement about a free Wild West show, with cowboys, scouts, riflemen, cowgirls, Indians and medicine men, all dealing with Texas steers, wild buffaloes, fleet mustangs and wild Indian ponies.

But, just when you thought you’d seen it all, folks, this appeared.

“15 trumpeters, a female brass band, two steam calliopes, a fife and drum corps, Scottish bagpipers and droves of elephants.”

Oh yes, and then, there were the versatile Madame Gertrude and Clarissa LaBelle, doing whatever it was they did.

It was just all too grand, and this writer wonders how big that train had to be with all of that on board, and how many stops it had to make for those hundreds of shut-in animals?

In case you were still bored in Petaluma, that same fall there appeared another appealing attraction in town, a “Grand Cowboy Tournament,” at Agricultural Park. This show, not to be outdone by the aforementioned circus, featured the following description.

“Bucking broncos, horsemanship, picking-up objects, hurricane racing, lassoing and a realistic and thrilling presentation of life on the range.”

Interestingly, that “life on the range” would allow you to see such events as “Hanging a horse thief,” and “a chase for a bride.”

Well, that was a merry old time in our town. Not sure about that “hanging” part, however. Both the steamboats on Petaluma Creek and the railroads had promised cheap rates for those traveling up to take in these big events, and all our schools were let out for a day.

On the serious side in 1890, Petaluma’s first resident, General Mariano Vallejo, had died that January, and surely those attending that staged cowboy event would remember the many exciting rodeos held here each year, at the General’s Casa Grande Rancho.

In Petaluma of 1890, excitement was afoot as the chicken industry had started to really boom. Our Petaluma Incubator Company was advertising the boom with a succinct promise.

“Money can be made easily raising chickens.”

If you were in the buying mode, you could get an 80-acre farm here with a “fine roomy new house, romantically situated” for just $12,000. If you needed a temporary place to stay, the City Hotel on Western, “in the healthiest part of the city,” would take you in for room and board at $1.26 per day.

In the U.S. that year, there were 62 million residents. Benjamin Harrison was president, Idaho and Wyoming had just become states, California’s Yosemite Valley was made a national park and the terrible Battle of Wounded Knee was fought, as the U.S. cavalry massacred over 200 men, women and children of the Lakota Sioux Tribe. Twenty of those U.S. cavalrymen received the Medal of Honor for “bravery.”

I can’t help wondering how those Native American performers, in the Robinson’s shows and the cowboy rodeos, felt about us back then. Ours was still a tough young country and tragically, not many of our immigrant citizens cared about those who had been here first.

(Historian Skip Sommer is an honorary life member of Heritage Homes and the Petaluma Historical Museum. Contact him at skipsommer@hotmail.com)