“Painted wings and Giant’s Rings make way for other toys…..” — Puff The Magic Dragon (1962)
1941– Elbow-to-elbow, the heat inside the old canvas-covered 10-and-1 holds the coppery smell of sweat and new sawdust—and for those who are “with it”— the smell of MONEY. In front of the small painted bally stage a chaotic mass of kids, a few old farmers, some Bryl-Creamed swells, and powdered church ladies push forward as AL TOMAINI— towering no less than 7 Feet 4 Inches tall– starts his big pitch:
“And notice the size of the hands—watch the hand please—and the size of the ring I have here, so large you can pass a silver half a dollar right through the center of the ring….
Watch this, a silver half a dollar right through the Giant’s lucky ring, believe it or not….
Right through the center of the ring….
Now each one of these rings have my name and occupation engraved on them, and I’m going to pass them out now for souvenirs, and this is how I do it….”
The eyes of the crowd follow the heavy lead-colored baubles held high above their natural gaze, impossibly unaware of the wire recording apparatus preserving their laughter and awe for posterity. That 70 years later folks who have never seen a carnival GIANT onstage, would be listening to this same Giant’s Ring pitch:
“I have here a little booklet, tells you all about our married life, has the life story, photographs of both of us and ten questions and answers pertaining to our married life and
Now all you care to know about us two is in this booklet….
Now we sell the booklet for 10¢ and for each and every booklet we give away one of these giant lucky rings….
Now if you care to take home an interesting souvenir of the circus, hold up your dimes and I’ll be very glad to wait on you….
10¢ is all they are….” — Recorded on Strates Shows, 1941 (from The Library of Congress Radio Research Project, Archive of Folk Culture, transcribed by TK).
In those days, and in all the days that the show came to town, enterprising freaks of every stripe dinged the marks with pitch books and assorted novelties– such as midgets who peddled miniature bibles, and the armless who hustled feet-written autographed pitchcards. But the sideshow Giant had a brilliant twist on the pitch peculiar to his species, with an aptly fitting souvenir that other freaks could never have designed so perfectly. Promoted and pitched “direct from the Giant’s own fingers,” Giant’s Rings became a singular method of extracting coinage from the masses that wanted a nickel’s worth of the Giant’s unknowable physical body, a dime’s worth of his freak soul.
Purchased by the gross or in thousand lots— or even manufactured at home in the off-season— for a half-cent or less outlay per piece, the Giant could multiply his investment 25- or even 50-fold. How many were sold over the years is unknown, but by looking at what’s still hanging around, it was many tens of thousands.
Absent the performance documented above, we are left with these plain objects, purported to be the right size for the Giant to wear. Faux adornments cheap and inelegant enough to near universally bear the Giant’s name, his height, his billing, and on Cliff Thompson’s ring, his weight– 460 pounds. These ubiquitous fat trinkets have outlasted most other sideshow pitch items owing to their relative indestructibility, instant novelty, and ability to retell the story—the Giant’s pitch– decades later.
Yet amazingly, for such a unique product marketed and sold for some sixty years— from the early 1900’s through the mid-1960’s at circuses, carnivals, world’s fairs, and dime museums — nothing has been written. As one collector has rightly pointed out, one good reason for this lack of ink is that unlike other collected objects of the sideshow, Giant’s Rings are monolithic—i.e. they contain no inherent image, reveal at first glance neither date nor clue as to their origin, and are unable to speak of who bought, sold, or made them. Devoid of the context of the sideshow, their impenetrability as souvenirs is nearly complete.
Cheap Metal Clinkers
The rings have been found almost everywhere— in antiques stores, stuck in a great aunt’s jewelry box, in a tackle box at an estate sale, dug with aid of a metal detector from an old fair grounds—but as with most collectibles these days, eBay is the clearing house for such obscure items. Giant’s Rings sell for as little as $10.00 there on a regular basis, though the scarcer rings regularly bring $50-60. The auction record, as far as this author has seen, is for a very rare green variety of an already rare Gottlieb Fischer ceramic ring that went for $576 in 2009. Some other rare rings not yet seen at auction are the Lucky Horseshoe in white plastic, and the “Star” ring—see below.
After personal examination of some 60 rings– 45 being unique designs– many common elements are repeated. All the rings examined have between a 1.25” (George Auger’s) to just slightly over 1.5” (Johann Petursson’s) inner diameter. All but a few of the rings appear to be made of lead or “pot metal,” although at least one ceramic design is known, and many were produced in plastic in later years. While a few of the metal rings were plated (or painted) gold or silver, and are shiny, most are dull gray or lead colored. The plastic varieties have been found in many different colors.
Raised letters are a feature of most with the exception of the incised writing on the J.G. Tarver Texas Giant ring, the rarer Johan Aasen ”Motion Picture Giant” ring (misspelled “Johan Assen”) and the Dreamland Sideshow rings. The technology of making these rings is decidedly low-tech, requiring only a mold of a hard metal into which molten metal can be poured. With a relatively low melting point of 786° F (419° C), zinc is often alloyed with other metals including lead (melting point 620° F, 327° C), and tin (450° F, 232° C) to make the “pot metal” rings.
Sometimes the difference between similar specimens is simply the appearance of cast marks—in the form of ridges formed when the two parts of the mold were uneven– with some collectors classifying these as a unique designs to be collected and designated as separate versions.
Pot metal is sometimes called “white metal” or “monkey metal.” It has a tendency to mar, distort, crack, and pit with age, hence the condition of some of the rings examined. Despite these facts, pot metal is more resilient than plain lead. Many of the earliest Giant’s Rings that appear to be made of plain lead have worn-down lettering on the face from age and handling, and are generally nicked and abraded. Lead may also have been a poor choice for the miles of rough traveling the shows had to do, as lead is very soft and carrying these rings on the road as pitch items may have damaged many of them past the point of salability.
Metal rings may come in both a painted (or plated) version in gold or silver, and a plain cast dull gray metal version. While some rings actually appear to have been painted, Giant’s Ring collector and sideshow historian Bob Blackmar believes that many, if not all of the metal rings thus colored, were plated. The Eddie Carmel generic “Lucky” ring, while known to be rare in white, is mostly seen in gold, and comes in both a gold metal plated version, as well as a “vacuum plated” plastic version. This “Lucky” ring is also the only ring design known to have been used by two different Giants, as Dave Ballard made the same ring in red or orange colored plastic.
Clear physical evidence has emerged proving that at least one Giant ordered his rings from a jobber or small manufacturer with the discovery of an entire cardboard box of unused rings owned by one current collector. These relics can be found still neatly wrapped in light blue tissue paper, six to a bundle, the box holding some 500 rings. When he purchased the box of rings from a showman in the 1970’s he was told that they came from “the little Jewish guy in New York City who made all the castings for the giants.” This small time jobber reportedly made the rings for many Giants, “faster, cheaper and better.” More investigation should eventually lead to proof of this outside manufacturing of the rings, though this contradicts the view held by some collectors that the Giant’s themselves made most of the rings they pitched.
What can be confirmed is that the metal ring molds of The Icelandic Giant, Johann Petursson, were discovered in his estate at the time of his death, and still exist. This and the remembrance of Judy Tomaini Rock, daughter of the Giant Al Tomaini, that her father poured lead himself in the off season into the steel molds, which were “designed by the metal shops” prove that some of the rings sold in the later years were a home based enterprise.
More recently (in 2012), a 6-ring injection mold for the above-mentioned “Lucky Horseshoe” ring came up for bid on eBay. The seller says the metal mold was discovered in a “truck full of old injector parts and molds from a man from out of Florida that was going out of business.” His set the starting bid price on eBay at an incredible $55,000. He later reduced the price to a “Buy-It-Now” of $30,000. To the best of this author’s knowledge the mold was never sold.
Despite the variety and number of different rings noted, 90% of the metal ones produced in the 1920’s-1950’s appear to have been made from the same modified original design, as the size and shape of rings made years apart, and from various Giants are nearly exact. Perhaps one manufacturer was originally hired to make the earliest rings, and then the same design was repeated, changing mainly the lettering on the face, and sometimes the side scrolls. Or more likely, enterprising Giants (or their managers) made new molds from existing rings of competing Giants. It would be simple enough to do this even now, creating in this day and age, counterfeit collectibles.
Counterfeit Rings?
In correspondence with collectors, the subject of fakes seems to come up frequently. On one collector’s authority at least two rings are currently being counterfeited. Judging from the number of Giant’s Rings that hit eBay weekly, this is not impossible to believe, though perhaps there are also caches of “New Old Stock” rings that are still being parsed out little by little onto the market.
How do you tell the difference between a real, i.e. vintage ring and a fake? Good question. One prominent collector has written a small book on the subject, though the book, published in England in 2000 or 2001, has proven to be elusive. This collector’s Giant’s Ring collection purportedly numbers some 75 different examples, though we must wait to see his book republished in order to gain his knowledge, as he declined to elucidate any further.
Among the rings catalogued some controversy exists about the seemingly “non-Giant” Giant’s Rings, as well as “fantasy” pieces— i.e. rings which may never have actually been sold by any Giant, but retain the form and design. The “Gargantua Toto” ring is one such ring. Gargantua was the lowland gorilla that was sensationally featured with the Ringling Brothers & Barnum Bailey Circus from 1938-1949. M’Toto (or “Toto”) was a female gorilla later exhibited as Gargantua’s “bride.” Is it possible that a pair of gorillas actually pitched a Giant’s “Wedding” Ring? This “Gorilla Ring” unlike any of the others examined so far appears to have its letters engraved, rather than cast into the metal. While an owner of this rare ring, collector Chris Tinsley, originally believed the ring to be an outright forgery, further input from circus historians has revealed that these rings were sold from the Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus Menagerie tent in the 1940’s.
Another unusual and mysterious Giant’s Ring is the “Circus Hall Of Fame” ring. One guess is that this ring was simply sold as a souvenir at the original “Circus Hall of Fame” in Sarasota, Florida (moved in 1981 to Peru, Indiana), and was never really pitched by a Giant. Or perhaps different Giants appeared at the museum and pitched the generic ring.
As proof of this most obscure object’s iconic staying power well into the 21st century, Bob Blackmar recently produced his own “recreation” Giant’s Ring for the 2006 fifth annual “Sideshow Gathering”. The handsomely designed pot metal ring was made in an edition of 100, and may still be available for sale as of this writing.
So How Big Is A Giant’s Finger?
According to The Guinness Book Of World Records, Robert Wadlow— the tallest human to ever live— wore a size 25 ring. By taking a modern ring-measuring chart (US Version), most of which stop at size 15, and expanding it 3mm for each ring size up to Wadlow’s size 25, one gets to a circumference of 4.25″ (or 107.95mm). This is exactly 1.353″ in diameter— a little larger than the typical Giant’s Ring of 1.25″, and smaller than the largest ring—one sold by Johann Petursson— at 1.5″ in diameter.
If Wadlow was typical of most Giants in that his ring size was relative to his stature, then Giant’s Ring’s are actually only slightly exaggerated in size. This relative accuracy of ring size to the actual pitch items may be even closer if Wadlow’s fingers were perhaps thinner than the “average” Giant due to his very slim physique.
It is also possible this can be tested to some extent if a Ripley’s “Believe It Or Not” exhibit in St. Augustine, Florida can be believed to represent a true cast of Wadlow’s hand. While Wadlow exhibited briefly with Ringling Brothers Circus, he never sold a Giant’s Ring— considering any association with freaks and sideshows to be demeaning.
Since ring sizes of these pitch objects from Giants smaller than Wadlow tend to be almost uniformly the same, it is ridiculous to suppose that they were created with any idea of accuracy in mind. But given the inherent deceptions perpetuated by sideshows, Giant’s Rings are surprisingly relative to the reality of that size 25 ring that Wadlow wore.
Giant historian Dr. W.W. de Herder from the Netherlands has listed in his excellent book “Acromegaly and Gigantism on the 20th Century” the ring sizes of ten different giants, measured from the Giant’s Rings themselves. Dr. de Herder, measuring certainly with a greater accuracy than this author, finds a variation from the smallest George Auger ring to the largest Johann Petursson ring some 8.5 European ring sizes difference—from 30 to 38.5, much larger than the reported ring size of Wadlow.
The scale of Giant’s Rings is also related to the way in which they were pitched from the bally stage. Evidently, a common pitch gesture, as documented above with Al Tomaini, was for the inside talker or Giant performer to pull a half-dollar from his pocket and say that the size of the opening of the ring— and thus the Giant’s finger— were large enough to pass a half-dollar through it. Later, Johann Petursson seems to have upped the ante, or ceding to inflation, with a ring almost the size of a silver dollar.
A Drink From Blackbeard’s Mug?
If you go poking around the web, you’ll find one confused person ascribing “late 17th to 18th century” origins to a George Auger ring, claiming that the ring’s side-panel scrolls have “symbols [that] match those on Blackbeard’s mug.” Although a photo of the rum-stained mug supposedly made from Blackbeard’s skull has not yet surfaced, it seems doubtful that an early 20th century carny would have used anything as obscure as a mythic rum mug to copy in making the Auger ring side panel designs.
More than likely the side-panel scroll designs on Giant’s Rings were copied from slum jewelry and ended up there purely by chance, or whim, of the first ring maker. Slum jewelry was bought very cheaply by carnival game operators to give as prizes, and thus were everywhere to be seen and used in the show world as design inspiration. Nonetheless, the design notion was copied, and the tradition of making rings with side scroll patterns is nearly universal on Giant’s Rings. Designs on side-panels are often abstract filigrees, but just as commonly identifiable as oak leaves, stars, roses, small vines with fruit, and daisies.
While different Giant’s Rings appear to have somewhat similar side-panel designs, none of them so far examined appear to be exactly duplicated from other rings. Lastly, despite close similarities, and the claims of some who see variation everywhere, there do not appear to be different versions of side panel designs on rings with the exact same face design, making the collecting of these rings in all their variations much simpler.
Secret Origins Of Giant’s Rings
Beginning in the 1880’s, in France and then in other cities across Europe, tourist attractions and souvenir shops began selling metal napkin rings that were shaped exactly like very large finger rings. Some were elaborate, but many were as simple as the Giant’s Rings later sold at carnivals, circuses, and sideshows in the United States. Many of these European souvenir napkin rings were made to stock, and simply engraved with the place name or tourist destination where they were to be sold.
The earliest Giants who sold pitch rings were European, and certainly they would have been familiar with the common souvenir napkin rings made to look like finger rings. Perhaps this familiarity hatched an idea to produce the first “Giant’s Ring.”
Seemingly first made and pitched as early as 1905, perhaps first by Giant George Auger (1883?-1922), whose Giant’s Rings appear to be of the oldest and most primitive design— the format he used was copied, and rarely changed much from performer to performer.
Sideshow historian Tom Hernandez, who created an excellent web page on Giant’s Rings (now sadly a dead link), also believes that Auger had the distinction of pitching the first ring, and has his own theory on how the idea of Giant’s Rings came to pass:
“Apparently around this time huge oversized rings were being manufactured by some unknown company as a novelty item. They were purchased with a blank face and then one could get them inscribed with a name or personal message and then given as a gift or token of remembrance.”
Hernandez’ suggestion points more towards a U.S. origin for the producer of the first Giant’s Rings. In a 1937 catalogue we find the Johnson Smith Company selling a ring with “Comical Mottos” similar to the type of ring Hernandez describes. Certainly finding a catalogue or advertisement dated around 1900 that featured oversized rings would cement this contention, and logically tie the origin of Giant’s Rings to the production of carnival slum prizes and novelty items.
Interestingly, two personal rings worn by two different performing Giants—purportedly Johann Petursson and Martin Van Buren Bates– have also been examined, and both found to be larger than the pitched Giant’s Rings.
How Many Rings Do You Have, Johann?
Icelandic Giant Johann Petursson’s rings are many in number and variety. Many designs created over a period of many years— from metal to plastic, from shiny gold painted metal to dull pot metal. Johann pitched both the largest ring ever measured, as well as the cheapest (read, crummiest) ones ever made— plastic with a poorly printed-paper label glued on. Petursson also may have been the last Giant to ever pitch a ring.
Longtime sideshow collector and Johann Petursson enthusiast Neil Davis tells us that the Icelandic Giant’s molded square plastic rings with raised letters were first sold in the early 1950`s. Evidently unsatisfied, or perhaps simply trying to reduce costs, Johann next pitched plastic rings with his photo glued on. In the late 1950`s Johann switched back, trying out several large metal rings, which were heavy and ultimately unsatisfactory due to the quality of the metal. Next came what Neil calls “the elusive Star ring,” which is an engraved metal ring, with a five-point star in the middle. It is considered the scarcest of all Giant’s Rings, according to Neil. Only half a dozen or so are known to exist.
Finally, in the early 1960`s Petursson made the huge square metal “JP” rings, which come both painted gold, and unpainted, i.e. lead colored. These the Giant sold until the end of his career. The sheer quantity of this variety of ring left over when Peterson died has made these rings the most seen, and the cheapest to buy on the collector market. Neil also tells us that Petursson made his own rings with some help, and then sent them out to be painted. As mentioned above, Petursson’s original ring molds do survive in one enthusiast’s collection.
According to carnival historian Al Stencell, when wintering in Florida in the off-season, Petursson set up at flea markets between Gibsonton and Tampa to sell his rings and postcards.
Judging by the variety and quantity of rings produced, pitching rings was a lucrative business for Petursson, possibly as a result of his personal charisma that made selling the rings a natural for the Icelandic Giant.
So Many Giants, So Few Rings
In the history of the sideshow many (or most) Giants never had a ring to pitch. If selling these popular pitch items was lucrative enough to attract some, why not others? The question may be answered by examining the entrepreneurial orientation of the Giants (and/or their managers). Perhaps it was a simple equation: more ambitious performers sold the rings and the less ambitious did not.
With the exception of Gottlieb and Alfreda Fischer and their “Tallest Married Couple On Earth” ring, no woman Giant ever pitched a ring. Yet at least three different versions of a giant woman’s engagement ring complete with plastic “diamond” exist, as discovered by collector Reed Martin. Reed reports that these unusual metal rings were pitched as the “Tallest Married Couple’s Engagement Ring,” along with their other pot metal Giant’s Ring, but may have been pitched by other woman Giants as well.
The relatively scarce “Dreamland Coney Island” ring appears to have been a generic ring that was pitched by various Giants who appeared at The Dreamland Circus Sideshow. Presumably, whatever Giant was appearing in the sideshow pitched the “house” ring, though owing to its seeming scarcity it may not have been used over a long period of time. The one unique feature of the Dreamland ring is that the engraved words run perpendicular to the opening rather than parallel as on every other ring known.
The task of pitching the rings may have also been accomplished by an inside talker in addition to the Giant himself. Upon leaving the stage, the Giant’s manager or the lecturer may have continued pitching rings, as the art of the pitch was always a highly specialized skill as practiced by an expert talker. Conceivably, a great talker could sell more rings than the Giant himself. And perhaps a legendary talker might not even need a Giant on the show at all to successfully pitch a ring. Imagine that— a Giant’s Ring without a finger big enough to wear it. All possible in the world of the carnival pitchman.
Reed Martin, a collector since the mid-1960’s, claims there were three ways to get a Giant’s Ring on the circus in the 1920’s and 30’s. The first way, Reed says, was to catch one tossed out at the circus parade that proceeded each town’s opening of the big show under canvas. The Giant would ride in the back of an open car and toss the rings out to kids. Perhaps as a reward for risking a knot on the head from the flying ring, it could be traded for free gate admission to the circus, or kept as a souvenir. The second way to get a ring Reed tells us was to purchase one at the gate, and third way was to pay the Giant a nickel or dime and reach up and take their ring off the his finger in the sideshow.
Conclusion
As objects to collect the rings have a relative sameness to them that excites interest only in the very few today who can see in their cheap metal and plastic something more. That something more is a connection with an earlier and simpler time when the mystery and strangeness of the sideshow personally witnessed on a hot summer day inside that tent was for some a religious or transformative experience. And that in general is what “sold” the sideshow to the public, show after show, season after season—a desire to see something marvelous, to hold it in your gaze for a just moment, and be somehow transformed by it. And so the Giant’s Rings allowed the original purchaser of that object to hold forever that powerful wonder by purchasing an icon, a talisman, a souvenir from its church and pulpit of miracles and amazement. So it could be marveled at in private for years to come.
And that’s why these dull objects still excite the collector– they who see themselves as the heirs to a nearly lost religion of wonder. As the outsider talker’s pitch says:
“You will very soon forget the slim dime you spent here today, but you will remember for the rest of your days the incredible things you saw inside this tent.”
