We were in line to see the World’s Smallest Horse. The colorful banner that hung outside the tent, with its claim that the animal stood a mere 17 inches tall, was accompanied by a rough painting of an adorable little horse munching grass in a lovely green field. Once inside the tent, we found ourselves standing over what may have been the world’s smallest horse, but it was also a contender for most depressing animal ever. It had obvious health problems, was small due to some genetic mis-step, was standing on hard-packed dirt, and was far from adorable.

And so it goes at the sideshow. Maybe you’ll see something amazing, maybe you’ll be tricked, or maybe you’ll see something you wish you never had. But sideshow-loving folk can’t resist the allure of the bizarre, the grotesque and the oddly gifted. On the way out, I looked back at the banners: Man Eating Snake, Five Legged Goat, Sword Swallower and of course, World’s Smallest Horse, and marveled at how easily we had been taken in by the faded and weathered signs; the very picture of the sideshow.

Between the mid-1800s and mid-1900s, sideshows were a popular form of American entertainment. With as many as 100 traveling sideshows roaming the country, they provided the mostly-rural townspeople a break from their everyday lives, and a glimpse into life beyond their isolated towns, bringing curios from around the world. As the semi-literate audiences relied heavily on visual cues, sideshow banners—the primary means of advertising the sideshows—were generally figurative in nature, simple in style, light on lettering and as eye-catching as possible. Easily seen from a distance, the banners served to draw crowds and dollars, and designate the sideshow area.

A utilitarian tradition that has changed very little in 150 years, sideshow banners were made from relatively inexpensive, easy to come by canvas that was lightweight, conveniently rolled and stored, quickly hung, and could be painted on the fly. The trade-off was that the banners had a short life, as the weather, sun and constant rolling, rendered them cracked, faded and aged beyond their years. But as sideshows were always on the move, portability was key and the banner tradition remained.

Once a banner had outlived its usefulness as an attention-getter, it was generally re-purposed (get ready to cringe) as a tarp, or an oil rag; a practice that led, much to the dismay of sideshow-art collectors, to very few of the old-time banners being around today. There are some that hang in galleries and sideshow collections, but most of the them probably spent their retired years as colorful, painted rags.

The attractions that the banners advertised ranged from daring feats like knife throwing and bear wrestling, to physical novelties like rubber men and bearded women. They included unusually proportioned people and animals, mentalists and fortune tellers, “exotic” (read: totally racist) faraway-land kind of stuff, and whatever else the owners thought they could make a buck off of, including trickery. Many a taxidermist was hired to create some hybrid species, combining the top of one animal with the bottom of another and calling it a one-of-a-kind. The lifeless and obviously fake nature of these displays however, led to the addition of a new, one-word selling point on the banners: Alive!

However, no matter how good the banners, or how freakishly delightful the attractions, no sideshow could compete with the emergence of the television in the mid-1900s. Families suddenly had the entire world in their living rooms and could find, with the flip of the dial, all sorts of odd, curious and delightful stories. A new era had begun and sideshows, no longer relied upon for communication between the isolated towns, found attendance waning and audience wow-ability slipping.

A final blow came when it was decided that it wasn’t right to exploit differences, and that sideshows were unethical and immoral. The sideshow performers cried out that this was the only way many of them could make a living, and that they were perfectly content, but the ever-heavy moral fist had landed and sideshows began their slow march into the history books.

Like all great movements though, sideshow culture never completely died. Collectors, performers and appreciators provided enough of a heartbeat to keep sideshows alive, and the end of the 20th century saw a resurgence in sideshow culture. It was a modified version of the original, with body piercings, pain-tolerance and disgusting dares being the main draws, but nonetheless, it helped to revitalize the notion of sideshows, and it introduced sideshow culture to a new generation.

And through it all, the sideshow banner has remained. What began as a device of practicality has become a defining feature of the sideshow. And while original banners are hard to come by, you can still see sideshow banner art everywhere, from album covers to boardwalk signs, t-shirts to galleries, and even…at the circus sideshow, where you can stand in line to see what the banner advertises as the World’s Smallest Horse; though I wouldn’t recommend it.

Thanks to sideshow collector, buyer and enthusiast Ballyhooligan for the use of the great photo.