Watch Yourself Go By — Context and Discussion

A Self-Critical Opening

The introductory poem by S. W. Gilliland establishes a tone of unflinching self-examination. Field adopts this perspective in his dedication, where he humorously deflects the honor of a human dedicatee and instead chooses his dog Court. The preface further undercuts expectations by stating the title's 'physiognomy' will be disproved—a promise that the book's contents will not match its name. This self-aware, almost ironic posture invites readers to approach the memoir as a series of candid, sometimes uncomfortable reflections rather than a straightforward success story.

The Palmer Episodes

Field's early career with a panorama show brings him into contact with Palmer, a man whose 'coarse, selfish or mean' traits are cataloged in detail. Palmer's hypocrisy is on full display when he blames Field for swearing after he himself curses loudly in a church. The scene includes Jake's comment, 'Balmur beats der bugs,' capturing the dialect and the bystander's wry assessment. Field's anger is palpable: he tells Palmer, 'the next time he tries to make a scapegoat out of me before a lot of church people he'll hear something he won't like.' These episodes show Field as a young man learning to navigate exploitation and false piety.

Voice and Structure

The memoir shifts between narrative prose, verse, and direct address. The excerpts show Field using dialogue to reveal character—Palmer's 'My wife, Mrs. Palmer will take charge of the young ladies' contrasts with his actual behavior. The author's own voice is colloquial and occasionally blunt, as when he describes Palmer's 'torrent of profanity.' The book's structure, with 23 text sections and a word count of over 172,000, suggests a sprawling, episodic approach. Readers should expect digressions and set pieces rather than a linear plot.

Humor and Resentment

Field's humor often masks genuine grievance. The dedication to Court is funny, but it also underscores a distrust of human motives. In the Palmer scenes, laughter at Palmer's mishap quickly turns to fury when Field is falsely accused. The memoir balances these tones: the author is 'always full of fun and mischief' yet capable of 'positive rudeness' to those he disdains. This duality—affection for the circus life alongside sharp criticism of its figures—gives the book its texture. Readers should watch for moments where comedy gives way to indignation, as they reveal the author's core values.

Field's memoir rewards readers who enjoy character-driven anecdotes and a narrator unafraid to show his own flaws. The excerpts suggest a work that is less about the circus as an institution and more about the people—the hypocrites, the loyal dogs, the young men finding their footing. Approach the book as a series of vignettes, and let Field's wry, self-critical voice guide you through the contradictions of a showman's life.

Old Al. Field could laugh at himself, that rare gift. His circus memoirs carry the same rueful wink I find in the Comic History of the United States — Themes and Context, where our national follies get a gentle, knowing nudge. Both feel like evening conversations with a friend who's seen it all and forgiven most of it—a quiet kinship of forgiving laughter. I've shelved them side by side, and they seem to nod to each other.