I’ve always been fascinated by carnivals, carnies, and con-artists. Two of my favorite books, the novel Nightmare Alley and Julian Prosauker’s Suckers All!, the story of honest John Kelly, are set in this milieu. So how does a more recent memoir of life on the carnival pitch fair? Let’s see.
Carnivals occupy a curious spot in the American psyche. They are viewed as seedy institutions that prey on the weaknesses of average citizens with a few bucks to lose, but people can’t stop coming.
In Eyeing the Flash, the teenaged Peter Fenton is introduced by “Jackie Barron” to the world of the carnival. Though Fenton rose quickly through the ranks of the carnival con artists, he didn’t make a career out of scamming marks; he pursued a college education and became a writer, working for the National Enquirer for 15 years. I imagine that some of the tricks he learned in the carnivals came in handy at the Enquirer. I’m not just cracking on the supermarket tabloids there–I think in any kind of creative endeavor with a commercial bent there’s an element of “marksmanship” that’s not so far removed from the carnivals.
A ton of people have said that casinos are descended from carnivals (well, I said it at least–you can read the article here). This memoir makes the connection crystal clear: shortly after meeting Barron, Fenton is introduced to gambling, and the pair soon run a clandestine casino out of Barron’s basement, gleefully stripping their classmates of all their cash. Fenton, who was not the most popular guy in the school, learns that he’s a lot brighter than the star basketball players, whose gifts on the court and in school can’t help them in the casino, where Fenton and Barron–thanks to a thorough knowledge of math–have the edge. It’s an unlikely sort of underdog story, and I’m guessing that you won’t see an adaptation of that chapter as a movie of the week on the Hallmark Channel.
That episode highlights a theme that runs through the book–gambling and con artistry as a great equalizer: the jocks might get all the fame, but it is the scammers who get the fortune.
Fenton has a number of interesting adventures with Barron, eventually going on the road with him. He treats the reader to an insider’s view of the various attractions of the traveling carnival, ranging from kids games to flat-out gambling games. You’ve got to read it to get the full flavor, but I’ll give you a quick summary: they’re all crooked. Even if you do win a prize, it’s usually less than the price of one shot, anyway.
On an aside, it’s kind of amazing that these games still persist. The crane game, where kids try to use a claw to pick up a worthless bunch of toys, is in a lot of restaurants. I’m always surprised that parents plunk their kids down in front of it and give them money to play. They’d be better off giving them five bucks and going on a spree at the dollar store. It also gives kids a taste of gambling–the thrill of the near-payoff. You’ve got to wonder.
The crane game is actually a good bet compared to many of the scams that Fenton details. The thing that gets me is that carnivals have been flourishing for over 100 years, and many of the games that Fenton describes have been around for decades.
The memoir builds slowly to its climax, a thrilling contest of conning whose resolution is doubly appropriate (though I’m not going to spoil the ending for you). All in all, it’s a good look at carnival life in Middle America in the 1960s, and a reminder that, though they never get an even break, suckers can’t get enough of a shot at a “sure thing.”
Originally reviewed January 2006.