Carnival Diablo: World of Wonder

By Gerald Vander Pyl

In the early 1900's, they arrival of Prof. N.P. Lewchuk and his travelling carnival show struck fear into the hearts of many bible-toting prairie folk.
Black cats could be seen streaming into town before the show arrived, and the worried townspeople said. And when the proffesor performed magic tricks and sleight-of-hand for an audience of curious onlookers, small black demons were seen helping him with the tricks.

Some things, it appears, never change, says Scott McClelland, Lewchuk's grandson and owner of Carnival Diablo, a re-creation of a traditional sideshow or freakshow that has opened in a downtown Calgary warehouse.
McClelland says a local priest, concerned about the "Carnival of the Devil," came by to check out the exhibits for himself.
"He said there were no demons present. Just a lot of fascinating oddities," recalls McClelland with a laugh.
Those oddities include the stuffed or preserved remains of a two-headed calf, a baby sea serpent, a mermaid, a ventriloquist's dummy with a criminal past and many other items - some from his grandfather's original show, others obtained from private collections.

Entering Carnival Diablo, curious Calgarians climb a flight of stairs to a dimly-lit loft that has been turned into a freak show from the early 1900's.
With the addition of recorded music, carnival barkers and live performance featuring clairvoyant experiments, impaling and magic tricks, the show brings to life a popular form of entertainment from the past.
"My need to bring back the old form of entertainment is very strong," says McClelland, who spent 15 years as a travelling vaudeville performer. "My history is carnival, and my family's history is carnival."
Originally presented as an educational event, side shows faded in popularity in the 1950's as they gained a seedy reputation.
With Carnival Diablo, McClelland says he wants to bring back the element of story that is missing in today's popular entertainment.

Unlike a movie that features special effects the audience knows could never happen in real life - such as an actor melting and reforming in another shape - the attractions in a side show are real or plausible enough to make people wonder.
"These aren't movie things," he says, pointing to the stuffed two-headed calf. "These aren't special effects. These are done by mother nature. Our show lures people into the unknown."
One of the most popular items on display is not an oddity of the animal world but a wooden dummy with a supposedly checkered past.
When the original owner of the dummy, a ventriloquist, did not appear at his scheduled show time one night, police were summoned to his locked dressing room. After breaking down the door, they found the ventriloquist dead - his wooden partner sitting by his side, wearing an idiotic, painted grin. A coroner reported the ventriloquist had been beaten to death - by someone with hands the size of a three-year-old child.
Since opening its doors, Carnival Diablo has proven to be a popular attraction and has hosted a wide variety of Calgarians, including the worried priest and a coven of modern-day witches, says McClelland.
And he sees a bright future for what he bills as "a different night out."
We are going to be the only real carnival sideshow to go into the 21st century."