10 things you didn't know about John Ringling

When it comes to historical figures, it’s easy to boil them down to an easy-to-digest nugget of dates, facts and numbers. What’s not always as easy to do is to see them for what they actually were — living, breathing people with all the quirks, tastes, preferences and hobbies that give any of us depth.

Living in Sarasota, John Ringling can easily fall into the former category. His name adorns just about everything in town — bridges, streets, museums, colleges. Locals and visitors alike take the man and his legacy at face value. As his 150th birthday approaches, we sought to strip away the résumé and get to know the man himself.

We sat down with Deborah Walk, curator of the Ringling Circus Museum, to present 10 things you probably didn’t know about John Ringling.

“We have sort of a cardboard cutout of the man,” she says. “It’s very two-dimensional. But the more you read about him and the impact he had on Sarasota, you get to know him as a person — he starts to come alive. There are very few people in history who get celebrations for their 150th birthday, but John Ringling deserves it.”

STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM: John Ringling wasn’t always the larger-than-life circus magnate people know today. In fact, his first foray into show business wasn’t even in the circus. It was as a musician. He and his six older brothers toured the Wisconsin countryside — John on bass viol — until they realized people preferred tumbling acts to their musical stylings.

Even then, his first role in the circus wasn’t exactly at the top of the corporate ladder — he was the show’s Dutch singing clown. For a man noted for his shrewd business sense, fierce competitive nature and stoic demeanor, it’s hard to imagine him getting dolled up with greasepaint pre-show to gallivant around the big top and delight a crowd with a song. But it just goes to show — everybody has to start somewhere.

JOHN APÉTIT: He was no slouch in the kitchen. The man knew his way around a home-cooked breakfast. During the early years of the show, he’d cook for his older brothers, and much like in every other area of his life, he enjoyed the finer aspects of dining. His longtime valet Taylor Gordon was even quoted as saying Ringling made “a wicked Spanish omelet.”

TOTAL RECALL: Ringling had an incredible memory. Part of his rise to becoming the face of the family business has been attributed to his gift for recollection. It’s been noted that he was so well-versed in railroad travel (we sense some slight exaggeration here) that he could stick his finger out of a traveling Pullman car window, glance at a few landmarks and immediately know where he was. 

SUITED AND BOOTED — YET SURPRISINGLY MUTED: A Fortune magazine article from 1930 describes Ringling — or Mr. John, as he was known to many — as dressing “superbly.” He purchased his ties from Paris and his suits from a variety of well-known Fifth Avenue outfitters. But at the same time, he was known for a distinct lack in the extravagance and flair departments, in which a man like P.T. Barnum thrived. He wasn’t much of a jewelry man — he wore a single ring. His game of choice? Not poker, but bridge (which he would play until all hours of the night — and never for money).

Such was his reputation that when he debuted his massive art collection, a 1928 article in the American Magazine of Art read, “So quietly has Mr. Ringling done his collecting and building that the news of the erection and establishment of this art museum comes like a bolt out of a clear sky.”

PUFF DADDY: It’s often been said that Ringling was never seen without his trademark cigar — usually a Cuban, although typically without nicotine. He was known to switch his stogie from hand to hand and gesture with it as he addressed people, and when he’d get particularly worked up, his puffs-per-minute would increase dramatically. And in typical grandiose fashion, he would only smoke the first half before tossing the rest — and starting another.

HEALTH NUT: Ringling was deeply concerned with his health (Hey, the cigars were de-nicotinized, weren’t they?). His brothers all died young, and Mr. John was known to watch his diet, avoiding red meats and exercising often. He even had a fitness room installed in the Cá d’Zan.

SCANDAL ON THE (NOT-SO) HIGH SEAS: In 1922, John Ringling purchased a 125-foot yacht, which he christened the “Zalophus.” He would use the luxury boat to entertain friends and entice potential financial investors. On Feb. 4, 1930, while Ringling was out of town, circus general manager Samuel Gumpertz borrowed the ship. At the reasonable hour of 3 a.m., the heavy, all-steel vessel struck an object near Lido Key and sank in 12 feet of water. A statement declared four passengers were on board, but later, it was revealed that several additional high-profile guests were conveniently omitted, including Jimmy Walker, mayor of New York, and his friend, actress Betty Compton.

THE NEW YORK CONNECTION: Ringling was one of the major stockholders in Madison Square Garden. A frequent visitor to auction houses in the area, he and Mable Ringling also had a residence at 636 Fifth Ave., where Rockefeller Center is now located. While in New York, he held expositions to promote Sarasota and the state of Florida.

SAY CHEESE: Listed as one of the top 15 wealthiest people in the United States, a portrait of Ringling’s face adorned the cover of TIME Magazine in 1925.

THE LONG WAY HOME: John and Mable Ringling weren’t buried at their namesake museum — as they desired — until 1991. They originally wanted to be buried under the statue of David in the courtyard, but today the couple, along with John’s sister, is buried at the museum, behind the Secret Garden.

Years of legal complications and family wishes saw the couple’s remains transported to various cemeteries in New Jersey to Port Charlotte. At one point, the couple’s remains were slated for burial in a pauper’s grave, due to unpaid storage fees. At last, the couple found its final resting place in the city they loved — and helped create.