Joe Exotic is the subject of Netflix’s documentary series “Tiger King”.
Joe Exotic’s real name is Joseph Maldonado Passage. He utters this line blithely after one of his workers has been brutally attacked by a Tiger, making him appear comically indifferent towards the suffering of the man.
Joe Exotic is not the only one who lacks compassion. He may not seem like a capitalist because he is a self-proclaimed gay redneck and a former operator of an unkempt wildlife park.
But I study 19th-century showpeople like P.T. Barnum, and similarities struck me as I watched season one of Tiger King to prepare for the next season.
These impresarios were also thinking about money. Like Joe Exotic, the other big-cat enthusiasts of “Tiger King” were no strangers to fierce rivalry, threats, and bizarre drama.
Lies about lions
In “Tiger King,” the audience learns that Joe Exotic, a big cat exhibitor, is part of a network of other exhibitors who trade and sell animals regularly to each other. This happens often in violation of the Endangered Species Act.
There are also characters like Bhagavan “Doc,” the elephant-riding polyamorous owner at Myrtle Beach Safari Wildlife Park, who is currently indicted on charges of felony wildlife trade. Jeff Lowe is another person who has been charged in Las Vegas for possessing exotic animals illegally. Carole Baskin is Joe Exotic’s arch-nemesis. She wants to bring down the network of breeders, traffickers, and big cat owners by pushing for a ban on private ownership of these cats.
In the 19th Century, when there were fewer exotic animals in the country than today, the big cat trade did not require the smuggling of cubs. The big cat trade network included scientific institutions back in the day.
James A. Bailey of the Barnum & Bailey Circus was in a dispute over a trade involving a pair of lions with Frank Baker from the Smithsonian National Zoo.
Baker’s to Bailey shows that he felt the showman had cheated him. Baker was “very surprised” to discover that the representative of the circus had brought a smaller lion than the one Bailey agreed to allow him to have. Baker demanded a trade back, but Bailey refused and accused Baker of giving him a lesser lion.
Baker continued to demand that Bailey budge. In the final letter of the exchange, Baker finally gave in. Still, not without writing in a passive-aggressive 19th-century manner, “I agree to the exchange of the lions, despite the fact that you’ve tried to force it on me without my consent.”
Education: entertainment or exploitation of children?
The relationship between the Smithsonian and the circus hints at a parallel between the 19th-century circuses and the wildlife exhibits of today: both blur the lines between entertainment and education.
Animal exhibitors have tried to legitimize and disassociate themselves from accusations of animal abuse by claiming they are not just entertainment.
Joe Exotic and “Doc” Antle, as well as Carole Baskin, assert in “Tiger King” that they are primarily motivated by conservation efforts. All three try, with varying degrees of success, to dispel the stereotype that roadside zoos are filthy and full of abuse.
P.T. Barnum was a promoter of the capitalist society that emerged at the end of the 19th Century. Barnum wished to make the circus appealing to as many people as possible. He and his colleagues began to emphasize the educational potential in their shows. They would insist that this wasn’t just a show of animals performing tricks. This was “better than a school for rare knowledge,” as an advertisement for Barnum & Bailey Circus stated.
Barnum used to refer to his animal keepers as “professors” in the past, a title that is eerily similar to the one given to the questionable “Doc Antle.”
Petty feuds, frauds
Joe Exotic, a traveling entertainer for a time, took a small exhibit of tigers to local shopping malls as well as other smaller venues. Exotic’s venture was called Big Cat Rescue Entertainment. This is a reference to Baskin’s rival organization, Big Cat Rescue Corporation.
Exotic’s petty act is something that would have been right out of a Gilded Age playbook.
In the nineteenth Century, entertainment executives would often publish notices in trade journals to warn others about fraudulent companies that were masquerading as well-known shows. For example, the Sells Bros. Circus sued the Sells-Floto Circus for using the Sells name despite the fact that the former had no ownership of it.
In one instance, a rival circus published a pamphlet full of insults aimed at Bailey. The text included lines such as “J.A. Bailey, you’re a fraud who has been thoroughly exposed, convicted, and beaten.
The pamphlet continued with an insult that sounded like it came straight from Exotic: “even Bailey’s performing lions are crawling, snatching, sneaking frauds.”
Imagine the content these men would have created if they had Facebook Live.
Exotic, who is serving a 22-year sentence after trying to kill Baskin, has been accused by rival companies of literally burning bridges in order to hinder their competitors.
W.C. Coup was a business associate of P.T. Barnum’s and described the competition between shows in terms of “opposition warfare.” Barnum wrote once that he suspected his rivals of destroying a railroad bridge in order to keep their train on schedule for their show. Coup, despite the fact that he did not have proof of this, wrote that “he knew [his competitors] would be driven to desperation to the point where they could resort to such an outrage.”
This is just a sample of the many entertaining and sordid stories that can be found within archives dedicated to Gilded Age Show Business.
Maybe it’s about time the circus got the Netflix treatment.