The news that John Lowlow had died in Cincinnati brought tears to a nation for whom he brought laughter for half a century. Well into the 20th century, most Americans would burst into laughter on hearing John Lowlow’s tagline: “Bring on another horse!”

Okay. You probably had to be there.

Although time has dulled some of Lowlow’s best lines, he was among the most famous circus clowns of the 1800s. He appeared with many circuses, but is most identified with the John Robinson Circus, based in Cincinnati. Lowlow’s jokes may have gone stale, but he gets credit for introducing the word “whoopee” into American English, and for helping Charleston become the state capital of West Virginia.

Yes, a clown got credit for Charleston becoming the state capital, an assertion supported by no less authority that Robert C. Byrd, who served West Virginia in the United States Senate from 1959 until his death in 2010. In 1963, Senator Byrd wrote a newsletter to his constituents about John Lowlow:

“History is often embroidered with legend, some of it true. But the legend of Lowlow, the Clown, whether true or not, bears repeating, for it is said that he helped to persuade West Virginia voters to choose Charleston as the State’s capital.”

As Byrd recounted it (and he lifted his version almost verbatim from the WPA Guide to West Virginia) West Virginia was a new state in 1877, carved out of Virginia during the Civil War. Four cities campaigned to become the permanent capital: Charleston, Clarksburg, Martinsburg, and the temporary capital, Wheeling. Two men were stumping the state, trying to get voters to vote for Charleston, but no one paid attention. Drowning their woes one night in a bar, they had a few drinks with a circus man who suggested they talk to John Lowlow. On hearing their story, Lowlow offered to let them follow the circus and take five minutes early in the show to make their pitch. They did and, when the votes were counted that year, Charleston got more votes than the other three contenders combined.

As for “whoopee,” most dictionaries claim its origin is unknown, but date it around mid-19th-century. Harry Tucker of the Richmond Times-Dispatch will have none of this and credits John Lowlow with coining the word. Tucker, writing in 1929, noted the Jazz Age popularity of the term (a Broadway play by that name had just opened) and had this to say:

“Lot of talk about the origin of ‘whoopee.’ If old John Lowlow still is living, he can truthfully claim originating the word. We recall that when he was the singing clown in John Robinson’s Circus sixty years ago, he used to shout, 'Whoopee!’ when the curtains between the dressing-room and the big tent were thrown aside and the grand entre started. 'Whoopee,’ shouted John, 'now let the band play.’”

Lowlow was born in Savannah, Georgia, in 1841 and was orphaned at the age of 13 when his father, a sailor, was lost at sea. The Robinson circus was in town and Lowlow talked the owner into giving him a job as a “candy butcher” who walked around the stands selling candy from a large carton or tray slung around his neck. Eventually, he worked his way into the act as an acrobat, but a fall in Cincinnati changed that. In the fall of 1860, the circus was performing at Wood’s Theater on the southeast corner of Sixth and Vine streets. According to Lowlow:

“I fell there from the top of the proscenium into the orchestra while closing a perch performance with a chair on top of it and broke both arms at one time.”

On recovering, Lowlow had lost his acrobatic skills and was recruited as a clown. Back then, the clown performed many of the tasks ringmasters did later - announce acts, perform comedy routines and, in Lowlow’s act, a lot of singing. So well known were his songs (usually parodies of popular hits of the day) that someone published a book of them - the 1870 version of a record album.

Lowlow later took on back-office functions for the Robinson circus as road manger and press agent. Even after he stopped performing, crowds would show up just for the chance to shake his hand and reminisce at the ticket window.

John Lowlow died on 18 Aug 1910, at 520 East Fourth Street, within sight of the Taft Museum. Aged 69, he was beset by an abscess on his knee which had turned gangrenous and eventually fatal. A number of newspapers reported that he had lost much of his money in unwise investments. Lowlow is buried in Monroe Cemetery in Cleveland.

