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Living quietly in her
suburban Victoria home is a dignified lady who once had the
world at her feet. Mrs. D. A. Campbell was the former
Jewel Norman, a name famous where circus people are spoken
of.
In 1910 Ringling Brothers'
Circus was in its winter quarters in Baraboo, Wisconsin.
Miss Norman, then eighteen, was already a star on horseback.
But for the act she dreamed of, she needed a very special
horse.
On a farm nearby, she was
told, was a vicious man-killing mare that could be bought
for a song. Its owners, however wanted to see the
idiot who would try to tame her.
For three years Miss Norman
had been saving up for her dream animal. Her
imagination stirred, she rode to the place. From a
distance she looked into the stall where months of dirt and
neglect had accumulated. Her heart went out to the
dumb animal in whose sad eyes the apprehensive girl saw
pleading. She bought the mare without knowing why and
later, by coaxing and promise, led her purchase to the light
where it stood blinking against the sudden offending glare.
Three men armed with iron
spikes and pitchforks delivered the horse to Baraboo next
morning.
It was an unbelieving boss,
Al Ringling,, who saw the animal days later. Spruce
and beautiful after baths and lotions, she impressed the
famous rider so much that he suggested Miss Norman call her
Silver Queen after his own Silver King, which had appeared
at Buckingham Palace and all over Europe with Al, the Grand
Old Man of the circus. Al brought Tom Mix along too to
see the mare.
"Silver Queen," says Mrs.
Campbell, "might have been just waiting for deliverance.
Gradually she lost her suspicious character. She was
intelligent and caught on quickly."
LEARNED QUICKLY
Nevertheless it was not easy.
the mare was already five years old, with very set ideas.
Weeks and weeks of untiring effort went into perfecting her
waltzing marching, cake-walking and pedestal
balancing. Eventually she was ready for the most
difficult of all performances, the Ménage Act.
Silver Queen loved I all.
As though she had been born exclusively for it, her adroit
obedience was a source of breath-taking wonder to the tens
of thousands who gasped at her antics.
Modest regarding her later
achievements, Mrs. Campbell claims no praise. "Every
animal," she explains, "has a definite personality, like
humans. They have to be understood. Silver Queen
may have been thankful I took her out of the dreary place .
. . I don't know. I can only say she seemed to know I
was trying to be kind and would stand puzzling out what I
said."
Mrs. Campbell herself was at
one time billed as America's foremost horsewoman and as such
travelled countless miles across the U.S., Mexico and
Canada. She and Silver Queen were celebrities.
Their repertoire consisted of fourteen acts, the popularity
of which was evinced by their being in constant demand by
parks, fairs and exhibitions throughout the U.S.
PRIVATE GROOM
Silber Queen now had her own
private groom. From a nonentity in seclusion she could
have been sold for fabulous sums.
Selling, however, did not
interest the owner. Jewel Norman did not grow up among
horses on her grandfather's farm near Shadeland,
Pennsylvania for nothing. It was there, in the midst
of the very cream of pure breds, she first learned to ride.
Just when that was, Mrs. Campbell is unable to say.
She cannot remember the first time she sat in a saddle.
Her entry into circus life she attributes to her love for
horses and her confirmed conviction that persuasion, not
force, can work wonders. Silver Queen's coming into
her life was the realization of a lifelong ambition.
Thus it remained until circumstances compelled a separation.
Mrs. Campbell give lie to the
popular belief that circus animals are badly treated.
Any worth while organization realizes that success depends
on their welfare, and the conscientious manager insists on
first class conditions. Woe betide the person found
ill-treating a Ringling animal, where there was every device
to avoid pain or even risk of it.
A veterinary surgeon
travelled with the circus. He had his hospital car and
was afforded all the respect and awe due their doctor.
"After all," Mrs.
Campbell points out, "animals make the show. Not the
people, Where for instance, would I have been but for Silver
Queen? It was Silver Queen who painted my name on
billboards and many of America's leading news papers.
She did the work . . . I merely tagged along."
In her vast store of
memories, Mrs. Campbell holds dear the one of Jumbo,
 the
world's largest elephant in captivity. Seeing a baby
elephant sauntering along the railway track, and a
train approaching in the distance, Jumbo broke away, hurried
to the scene, threw the baby clear of the rails, then turned
round and charged the oncoming engine. Another
elephant was unleashed from his quarters one evening.
His trainer having been refused more liquor at the local
tavern, the big fellow obliged by pushing in three sides of
the establishment.
Miss Norman and Silver Queen
have appeared in silent films with Tom Mix and his leading
lady, Kathleen Williams, the "prairie" scenes often being
shot in Chicago's empty lots.
FROM NEW ENGLAND
Unlike most in that
profession, Mrs. Campbell is not the daughter of circus
people.
Her father, the late Rev.
Owen O. Wizrd, was a direct descendant of an English
aristocratic family who crossed the Atlantic on the barque
"Assurance" in 1635 and helped colonize what is now New
England.
Long since retired from her
profession, Mrs. Campbell spends her time writing poetry and
stories. She recently won a Canadian short story
competition and at present is contemplating a novel on her
grandmother, one of the original trail pioneers in
Pennsylvania. Above the ancient typewriter where she
sites, often until dawn, is a large painting of Silver
Queen.
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