From Richard Flint #1

A "Global" History On Monday, Charles Mathias asked about the history of the Globe of Death act. Here is the earliest pictorial representation of the “globe of death” that I have found. It is from a program for Frank Bostock when his show was at the Paris Hippodrome in 1905. The performance featured nine acts including Charles Miller with the elephants (he was also with Bostock in the US) and the remarkable wild animal trainer Herman Weedon (who died in California in 1959—did anyone ever meet him?). The globe act, however, along with one other thrill act (riding a bicycle down an inclined ladder) were presented separately and adjacent to the display of animals. Two riders appear to be in the globe but I cannot discern if they are on bicycles or motorcycles “Rose & Lemon” could be seen after the formal show and, according to the French program notes, just before the public could assist in feeding the animals! Rose & Lemon were in the US by the start of 1906 but others must have preceded them as similar acts were featured at Oscar Hammerstein’s Victoria Theatre as well as Proctor’s Theatre in New York in the spring of 1905 and accounts specifically note the use of motorcycles. A former professional bicyclist who peddled in the once famous six-day races, big features at the turn of the century, turned to performing a globe of death in theatres by 1906. Another 1906 globe act was that of “Wizard” and Irene Stone whose billing when here in Baltimore was above that of a young Will Rogers, also on the bill. A 1908 reporter described how another “cyclist whirls around inside the large steel-ribbed ball on a motorcycle. The climax is reached when he shoots around directly overhead four times with terrific momentum.” Interestingly, the news account noted that this rider had fainted on a previous night at the Gayety Theatre (still standing) here in Baltimore! Occupational hazards arose during shows as when Mrs. Agnes Hatfiled, billing herself as“Fedora,” was riding a cycle in a globe while her husband stood in the center of the globe to increase the sense of danger (I got to do that once at the Ohio State Fair about 1980, courtesy of an act Ward Hall had booked there). Once, in a vaudeville theatre, her “oiltank” exploded, flames shot forth, the cycle collapsed, and Mr. and Mrs. Hatfield were in a “confused heap” inside the 16-foot wire mesh sphere. The curtain came down and though her husband escaped injury, Fedora, having “worn only a flimsy pair of tights, was badly burned about the legs.” Nevertheless, she “insisted on appearing before the audience, clothed in a long coat, and assuring them that she was not badly hurt. Then she submitted to have her injuries treated” by a doctor who had come forth from the audience. Dick Flint Baltimore