Roots of Bristol's 4th of July Celebration: Part VI

The Antiques and Horribles

Back in the early 19th century the pomp and ceremonial splendor of Fourth of July parades was serious business.

The local militia, the Colonial Guard of the Bristol Train of Artillery — escorted eminent political figures, distinguished citizens, and military men of rank in solemn procession to present their lofty patriotic speeches and to listen to a reading of the Declaration of Independence.

Bristol was not alone in this practice. It flourished throughout the East, but principally in big cities such as Boston where the militias reigned on the Fourth of July.  As a matter of honor and pride, the militia officers and men dared not be seen in anything less than their most Wagnerian-type uniforms.

By the mid-1800s the uniforms had become decidedly outlandish, embellished to the point of absurdity.  Foremost among these elegant militia companies were the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company of Boston that received its charter in 1638.

Later, as similar militia companies were chartered in other big cities and towns, each one fancied itself the most elite of corps.  Their flair for ostentatious overdressing made them incapable of any actual military duty, and they snobbishly limited their ranks to men of social prominence and approved lineage.

So, what could be a more natural subject for parody than overdressed, pompous, rich boys playing at soldier?  To mark and ridicule these parading caricatures of real soldiers, companies of local rascals riding in gaudy draped carriages or mounted on painted horses, and themselves dressed as knights and knaves, Vikings, brigands and harlequins did their best to poke fun at the solemnity of the Ancient and Honorable and other self styled high-type militias.  These rogues styled themselves as the Antiques and Horribles, or the Antic and Intolerable, and they paraded in high spirits on the Glorious Fourth.

Through the decades for about a century the pages of the Bristol Phoenix were joyfully sprinkled with tales of the “...reeling exploits of the brick-hatted gentry,” and stories of various town characters each trying to out do the other at being the greatest exponent of bawdy comedy and high burlesque.

The idea of a comic parade was well received in Bristol by the boys of the various neighborhoods who, from the earliest years of Bristol’s celebration of Independence Day, “... made the night miserable...” with impromptu parades at an early hour firing pistols, tooting  conch shells, and banging on drums.

The first such parade of organized burlesque to occur in Bristol seems to have been in 1857.  We learn from a report on the celebration for that year; “On the morning of the Fourth, a new and amusing attraction appeared.  A parade of Fantastics threaded the streets from 4 to 6 a.m.”  For the following year the Phoenix simply noted; “Antiques and Horribles appeared in the afternoon.”

Bristol boys really caught on to the idea with their usual flair, because in 1859, the eighty-third anniversary of American Independence the celebration included the Second Annual Antiques and Horribles Parade, presented as an appendix to the town’s official patriotic parade.  It made its appearance at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and the pre-parade announcement in the Phoenix read as follows:

 Major General Mac Taylor, who with his aides, will be mounted on some pure Mexican Mustangs, just imported.  A company of Pike’s Peak Adventurers just returned from the mines will also appear, bringing with them specimens of Kansas [Pile’s Peak is in Colorado!] gold.  The public may also expect a street exhibition of Table Moving, in the form of a huge animated table, walking along without any visible means of locomotion.  Many other grotesque, unique, and characteristic representations will appear during the afternoon.

The Antiques and Horribles parade for 1869 made a showing at 7 o’clock in the morning.  Its members marched through the streets accompanied by the Hog Island Band, “which discoursed tolerably fair music.”  The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe performed her part well, but her children, about a dozen in number, was disposed to be mischievous, and required constant attention.

In 1872 the Bristol Antiques and Horribles held a meeting at the town hall on Monday, July 1, and it was decided they would march at 2 a.m. on the Fourth.The Phoenix report on the celebration of that year described the parade participants as:

...the anxious Drag downs who sought the prize for being the chief exponent of fine burlesque.  Fun was abundant, and the show was fine.  Prizes were awarded to the best made up specimens of burlesque.  The first prize [$15] was fairly won by the man who got it.

In reality, the Annual Antiques and Horribles Parade, seems not to have been an annual affair; the press usually makes but sketchy reference, or mentions not at all the antics of the street comics during the years 1857-1900.

In what appears to have been a spin-off of previous years’ parades of grotesques; the 1874 celebration included:

...a unique tub race, from the Steamboat Wharf at State Street to and around a flag boat in the harbor.  The Excelsior Cornet Band escorted the six competitors, in fancy costume, with tubs on their shoulders, to the wharf.

Seven years later in 1881, we learn that the extensive afternoon entertainments that were planned included a parade of Antiques and Horribles, accompanied by a band.  But, because of the news of the assignation of President Garfield all of that year’s celebration was canceled, although the patriotic oratory of the program was carried out as scheduled.

By 1883, interest in the comic part of the celebration may have been on the decline.  In that year, although an Antiques and Horribles parade was scheduled to make a appearance on the streets at 4 o’clock in the afternoon for cash prizes, the committee had doubts about awarding the money; but, sentiment was, that the prizes would be awarded, “...providing there is sufficient interest manifested during the coming week to warrant the same.”

Small but innovative groups of mummers strutted about Bristol streets in parades of Antiques and Horribles in 1890-1892; typical was the 1890 affair.  The boys proved they lacked no enthusiasm as they paraded the principal downtown streets accompanied by a drum corps.  Among the players who presented the highest degree of parody, and captured the five prizes offered were the Forepaugh Show, the Drum Band, the ostrich and rider, the one-armed solder, and the old woman, her children and their shoe.

The 1907 edition was the first in 15-years, and though not as great in size as anticipated, reports of the show indicate that it was tops in quality and greatly pleased the thousands who gathered to watch.

A group of nine boys from the Bristol YMCA captured first prize with their impersonation of savage-painted “Cannibals” dressed in grass skirts and armed with spears and clubs; they carried a pot containing a half roasted missionary.

Second prize went to Barnum’s Greatest Show on Earth; Albert Mott was the intrepid trainer in a cage full of “wild animals.”

Charles Francis as the human firecracker ended the march lucky to be alive.  He wore a large tin can which resembled a giant firecracker.  Occasionally during the parade some of the boys in the audience would run into the street, lift the can top and drop in a lighted firecracker or two.

Not until 1919 do we find further reference concerning the Antiques and Horribles or the awarding of prizes.  In that year we find prominent mention in the Phoenix about the forming of a committee to present an Antiques and Horribles Parade.  But, as late as June 15, only two applications had been received by the committee, and it was doubted that the parade would be held.

The July 8, 1919 issue of the local press reported:

 The parade of Antiques and Horribles at 5:30 in the afternoon was not as large as the committee had anticipated.  Although the parade was small it was funny and pleased thousands along the line of march.  The novelty of Colonel Andrew Weeks Anthony and Bertram W. Wall riding on a hurdy-gurdy wagon and their comical actions, elicited applause.  They captured third prize, $10.  The first prize, $25, was awarded to Charles Francis, who impersonated a Hawaiian nobleman; the second prize, $15 was awarded to a group of Boy Scouts, who impersonated Kaffirs.

By the end of the first quarter of the 1900s interest in caricature parades had all but disappeared and knowledge of the origins of the burlesque was all but forgotten.

From 1920 to 1935 no record of a Horribles parade can be found, but, at 7 p.m., Saturday, July 3, 1936 (Rhode Island’s Tricentennial year), a true Mardi Gras spirit prevailed in Bristol again.  The same old time spirit continued later, when all the revelers in fancy and grotesque costumes took part in the block dance.

The Committee organized the parade into divisions of: Club Class; organizations such as the American Legion, Cup Defenders Association, and the volunteer fire companies; groups of two to five, and individuals; prizes were awarded accordingly.  The paraders were judged as they marched by three judges whose identities were not revealed until the prizes were awarded.

With Bristol Public Aid Director Charles E. Burns, acting as marshal, the participants in disorderly array followed him from the Guiteras School field down High Street to Union and north along Hope to Washington, returning to their point of origin.

Although the old time Antiques and Horribles Parades are now history, Bristol’s patriotic parades of the last half of the twentieth century have not been without their share of comedy.  And, almost certainly our contemporary exponents of pathos and buffoonery, who, disguised as Keystone Kops, run-a-way jailbirds, Indians, tramps, and robots; as well as the fellow from Warren who showed up year-after-year on water-skis outfitted with roller skates, who every once-in-awhile dropped his oversized baggy pants to reveal outlandish red poker-dot under drawers; probably do not have any idea why this lampoonery is allowed on a day set aside for patriotic ceremony.

Two modern day troops of entertainers who occasionally grace the ranks of today’s patriotic parades are the disorganized, tramp-dressed Clambake Band from Middletown, the leader of which represents a cooked lobster; and the Rocky Horror theater group who sing and dance “Let’s do the Time Walk Again” as they ride their Transylvania-decorated float.

Also, during the 1990s, occasionally appearing in the official parade were the so-called Unknown Celebrities, consisting of a group of local rascals who rode in an open car with their heads covered and their identities concealed by brown paper bags.

Another bit of the old comic tradition that lingers and is occasionally part of Bristol’s official celebration is the popular Anything That Floats Contest in Bristol Harbor.  All sorts of craft are launched into the water, crewed by young men and women in humorous costumes as they try to propel their makeshift “boats” through the water to the finish line before sinking.

For instance, as part of the 1992 pre-Fourth festivities, after an absence of several years some strange “vessels” that certainly could not invoke the town motto “Ship Shape ‘n’ Bristol Fash’n” appeared in Bristol Harbor.  And, although there were not as many racers as would have been liked by the committee, the entries were creative, if not altogether seaworthy.  The race between a floating gin mill and a buoyant outhouse was a comical sight evoking roars of laughter from the hundreds of spectators.