`GREATEST SHOWMAN IN THE WORLD' FILLMORE MAN A LEGEND AS FRONTMAN FOR THE BIZARRE.

Byline: Andrea Cavanaugh Staff Writer

FILLMORE - It's hard to pinpoint exactly where Bobby Reynolds' sideshow ends and his real life begins.

The 70-year-old Fillmore resident has spent most of a lifetime pitching glimpses at the fantastic, exotic or downright bizarre.

``There's three things that sell - sex, curiosity and thrills,'' he said. ``I sell curiosity.''

Semi-retired for the past two years, Reynolds, often billed as the ``Greatest Showman in the World,'' will open a sideshow museum later this month in a former bowling alley in Amarillo, Texas.

The museum will create a permanent home for some of the attractions that have been the bread and butter of Reynolds' show - a shrunken head, a Tasmanian devil, a two-headed baby and a ``cyclops rattlesnake.''

Other attractions include Van Gogh's ear (he keeps a spare in case something happens to the first one) and Einstein's brain, which Reynolds assures is a ``genuine fake.''

The exhibits are reminders of the days when Reynolds toured with Kokomo the Mule Boy, Johanna the Bear Girl and ``Albert/Alberta, the Half Man, Half Woman.''

Common throughout the first half of the 20th century, the exhibition of those with genetic deformities has nearly disappeared as the ``do-gooders'' have taken over, Reynolds said.

``They want someone with a mutation to stay home like a piece of wood,'' he said. ``When they were on the road, they were somebody.''

The ranch Reynolds shares with his 10th wife is filled with memorabilia from his six decades in show business, including dozens of framed circus posters and autographed photos of stars such as Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr.

A self-taught magician, Reynolds keeps a cote of doves on his front patio. His 100-pound rat escaped and now runs wild in nearby Sespe Creek, but not to worry, he got another one, Reynolds said.

The oldest of five children, Reynolds worked as a young child as a shoeshine boy and street peddler to bring money home to the family after his father abandoned them. He left school after the third grade and said he can neither read nor write.

He got his first taste of show business when he was only 10 years old, billing himself as the ``World's Youngest Magician.''

He worked in vaudeville and in burlesque with acts like ``Egger the Tapdancing Chicken.''

``I put the chicken on the floor and they put a spotlight on it and we'd dance together,'' Reynolds said. ``He crowed in five languages.''

He learned to swallow swords and eat fire, and performed at Hubert's Museum and Flea Circus in New York City in the 1940s before becoming a ``talker,'' one of the glib pitchmen who lured passers-by into Coney Island sideshows.

Reynolds was one of the last skilled practitioners of a tradition that dates back 125 years, said Michael Immerso, author of ``Coney Island: The People's Playground.''

``He was one of the last people who had that kind of flair that hearkened back to the old era,'' Immerso said. ``That sort of mesmerizing use of words that could make something that was clearly fraudulent into something enticing.''

People often confuse talkers with carnival barkers, but they are entirely different breeds, explained Ward Hall, a Florida sideshow promoter who first met Reynolds in 1960 when they worked for the Barnum & Bailey Circus.

``Someone once asked him what was the difference between a talker and a barker, and Bobby said, 'Oh, about $1,000 a week,''' Hall said.

Although the old-school sideshows have fallen out of favor, pushed out of traveling carnivals by mechanical rides, the medium is enjoying a renaissance in Coney Island and other parts of New York.

Todd Robbins, whose off-Broadway show ``Carnival Knowledge'' offers a behind-the-scenes look at sideshows, met Reynolds at Coney Island more than a decade ago.

Reynolds took Robbins under his wing and taught him to ``ballyhoo,'' or draw onlookers into the show, Robbins said.

``Everything I know about 'talking the front' came from Bobby Reynolds,'' Robbins said. ``He's the last of his generation. He's one of the most colorful people I've ever met.''

Immerso said that in the modern sideshows, ``freaks of nature'' have been replaced by new performers who merely think of themselves as outsiders. There will always be a place in society for some kind of sideshow, he said.

``There is a part of human nature that is intrigued or attracted by things like that,'' he said. ``It's sort of like, 'There but for misfortune go I.'''

Andrea Cavanaugh, [phone]

andrea.cavanaugh(at)dailynews.com

CAPTION(S):

2 photos

Photo:

(1 -- color) Bobby Reynolds, 70, of Fillmore has spent most of his life hawking the bizarre. Reynolds is planning to open a sideshow museum in a former bowling alley in Texas later this month.

(2 -- color -- ran in Valley edition only) Bobby Reynolds, 70, of Fillmore got his first taste of show business when he was only 10 years old, billing himself as the ``World's Youngest Magician.''

John Lazar/Staff Photographer