Iowa's Own, The Orton Brothers' Circus

 

Orton Brothers' circus tent, circa 1900

If you lived in Iowa in the late 1800s and heard a brass band coming down the street, you  grabbed your hat and headed for town.

The circus was here.

Kids came running. Shopkeepers drifted outside. Farmers tied off teams and squinted into the dust. Dogs barked, and horses rolled their eyes.

Then the parade came around the corner.

Painted wagons. Glittering harnesses. Clowns. Riders perched high on horses. Cages rumbling along. Brass horns blaring like they were trying to wake the dead.

And if the wagons said Orton Brothers Circus, people knew they were seeing one of the biggest homegrown shows Iowa ever produced.

R.Z. Orton

The Ortons were circus royalty. The family lived in Dallas County, Iowa, but home was more a concept than reality when your life was tied to the big top.

Hiram Orton started the circus in 1854, back when roads were rough, towns were smaller, and traveling entertainment was a novelty. Hiram didn’t just hire acts; he turned his  family into the chief attraction.

His children performed beside him—Miles, Dennis, Irene, Harriet, R. Z., and Celesi. They rode, tumbled, clowned, and learned the trade young.

The show got started in Indiana, where it remained until 1862. Then the Ortons moved west to Iowa. They spent that first winter in Independence. When spring came, they got back on the road. Their first Iowa appearance was in Des Moines, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut.

Miles Orton was one of the greatest horsemen in America. He could ride, command a ring, draw crowds, and look natural doing things sensible people wouldn’t attempt standing still.

Miles married into the Cook family, one of the foremost circus families in England. His wife brought new features and fresh ideas into the Orton Brothers Circus, helping keep the show modern and competitive.

That was important because the circus business never sat still. Every season there was some rival promising bigger elephants, finer riders, funnier clowns, newer marvels, rarer beasts, and wonders no human had ever witnessed before.

Colorized photograph of Nellie Orton

If you stood still, you got passed. The Ortons understood that. They knew audiences wanted novelty, motion, noise, and something to brag about afterward.

One of their smartest attractions was the female band. The Orton show was the first circus to feature a female band as a headline attraction. In an era when that alone could draw curiosity, they made sure nobody missed it. The band traveled in a large chariot pulled by six white horses.

The parade through town was often as important as the performance itself. It let people see the animals, hear the music, and smell the excitement for free, and by afternoon they’d be lined up at the ticket wagon.

The Orton boys also took turns clowning. No one was too good to put on greasepaint and make a fool of himself if it helped the show.

That’s another truth of old entertainment: ego was useful, but versatility paid better.

Circus life on the road wasn’t elegant. It was mud, sweat, feed bills, broken wheels, late arrivals, frayed tempers, and long days. Canvas had to be raised in the wind. Stakes had to be driven into hard ground. Animals had to be watered and fed whether the crowds were good or bad. Then, after all that, you still had to smile.

Children in circus families worked because everyone worked. If you weren’t in the ring, you hauled ropes, cleaned tack, carried water, swept wagons, helped cook, or loaded after dark. That life toughened people quickly.

R. Z. Orton was one of those born into it. He’d been a circus performer most of his life, beginning in his father’s show and spending years on the move, following the big top through Nebraska, Missouri, Kansas, and the Dakotas.

R. Z. knew no other world, and like many raised in the trade, he stayed with it.

By the late 1800s, the Ortons had become one of the best-known circus names in the region. They had Iowa roots, but their reach stretched across the Midwest. In town after town, they brought the thing people crave: a break from ordinary life.

Colorized photograph of Grace Orton

For one afternoon or evening, chores could wait. A farmer worried about the weather could laugh at clowns. A child who’d never left the county might see camels, elephants, acrobats, or a rider flying around the ring. A shopkeeper, tired of counting pennies could hear a brass band and remember life had some fun left in it.

Hiram Orton died in 1879. The circus took a two-year hiatus while deciding what came next. Family businesses often wobble when the founder goes. Circus businesses wobble harder. But the Ortons weren’t finished.

Miles reorganized the circus in the spring of 1881 and got it moving again. The revived show continued on, with Miles guiding it until his death in 1909.

R. Z. Orton carried it further. In 1897, he formed the Orton Brothers’ Circus, keeping the family brand rolling into a new generation.

When you mention circus today, most people think of Barnum & Bailey, but back in the day—the Orton Brothers were Iowa’s choice.

(photographs from the Des Moines Register. May 4, 1913)

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