“Freaks,” produced in 1932 by Tod Browning, is a movie about a traveling circus. It is a work of fiction, but features real people with various disabilities, malformities, and other abnormal conditions. They were misfits, aberrations, even abominations by some standards of the time. But they were also actors, playing characters in a story of greed and duplicity, a theme not confined to any specific group of people.

Maybe it was a kind of between-World Wars-decadence – a period of social numbness and cynicism in which existentialism displaced faith and gave birth to grotesque art like Freaks. And maybe it was the need for healing that made the film go away for four decades before it resurfaced as a cult classic in the 1960s and ’70s, a time when hippies were often referred to as Freaks by mainstream Americans.

Entertainment in the form of traveling shows, like circuses and fairs, has evolved with the times. The “sideshows” in tents along the fairway (Freak shows) and many of the animal performances have vanished, giving way to much more spectacular pyrotechnics and thrill rides. Yet there remains some nostalgia regarding traveling shows and their special communities.

Below, I share another excerpt from my short story “Battle of the Bands.” Speaking here is a woman, a resident of the fictional Jefferson County, who has been close with some of the special members of a traveling show. As she tells her story to Paul James (who is investigating a kidnapping), they are joined by a mute “little person” named Herbie.

“There was a time when the fair was more like a real carnival, before it turned into the kind of commercial, family friendly, politically correct display of techno-entertainment that it is today. Back then it was more like a traveling show featuring some of the most unique and rare people on the planet. A freak show, some called it. There was the Human Blockhead, who pounded nails into his head and up his nose, there was the Bearded Lady, there was the Swamp Boy who was raised by snakes, and the Sword Swallower, and the Monkey Girl. What a strange little pocket of humanity! But I believe those were the ones who gave us lasting memories, and something to talk about even to this day. Nowadays, I don’t think kids remember much about the fair.

She paused, looking fondly at Herbie who rocked gently on his stool as if entranced by her voice. “My apologies for the heavy dose of nostalgia. So, I was talking about Herbie, who you probably have guessed by now does not speak. But he has his strengths. In fact, he was once billed as ‘The World’s Strongest Boy’. And there was truth in that. At ten years old he could lift more than almost any man. On top of that, he stopped growing in height — nobody knows why, he just got stuck at the height he is now, which enabled the show to go on for several years. Part of the act involved challenges by the men in the audience, who bet money for the chance to beat him. But Herbie could bench press over 400 pounds. He could out-squat, out-curl, out-shotput just about any man. For a few years, it all went well for Herbie, and for his manager and guardian, an eccentric entertainer who called himself Scarecrow.

“Scarecrow was the emcee for the traveling show. He possessed a powerful announcer’s voice that could cut through the noise of the fair. Old Scarecrow was also a drunk, sometimes a mean drunk, and sometimes he’d go missing for several days just to get straight. Then he’d be on the wagon for a while, but that never lasted long.

“Down deep, Scarecrow had a good heart, and he always looked out for the performers, especially the misfits. He adopted Herbie and Cora — the Monkey Girl. Cora, God rest her soul. She was blind, but she could climb anything. You should have seen her in her glory days — the featured act in the Big Top where she performed on a huge and elaborate set of monkey bars. What an incredible display of grace and agility!

“Everything was great for a while, but it was only a matter of time before Herbie’s act went downhill. After a while people had seen it too many times, and especially when Herbie got older and grew facial hair and looked more like a little man than a boy, the novelty wore off.

“It was here in Jefferson Grove that old Scarecrow drank himself to death the night after Cora fell to her death from the high bars. Herbie, who was just fourteen years old, had now lost a sister and father figure inside a week. He had nobody to watch out for him.”

Pete Howard, a musician, writer, teacher, and painter, lives in Dunkirk.