The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-07-13
HE WAS AN AERIAL "ARTlST,"
Charles Newell, Now Round Police
 man, Once a Circus Acrobat.

From the Kansas City Star.
 One day in the spring of 1881 a heavily muscled lad who had worked in mill ap- preached Peter Sells, one of the owners of the Sells circus, and said
 "I want to join your show. I'm an acrobat"
 The applicant didn't look like an acro- bat. Rather, he appeared to be work man accustomed to hard manual labor.
 "What can you dor" the snowman asked.
 "rn show you," he said, If you'll give me a chance"
 In due time the mill hand was given the chance. He went hand-over-hand up rope, swung to a trapeze, balance himself away up on the dizzy height and sprang into space. His strong hand closed over a cross bar, he made an air spring, and landed lightly on the ground.
 "Go on." MT. Sells said.
 For half an hour the applicant went through weird performances. Two other ambitious acrobats appeared. The three knew each other. Together they did series of acts. When they had completed their turn, MT. Sells said:
 "Tu pay you $e5 week to do that stunt in my circus"
 were on," the mill hand replied.
 That young man was Charles Newell, now the crossing policeman at Tenth and Walnut streets, Kansas City. lad then of l5o pounds. he Is now man of 200.
 The two acrobats who applied with him for a circus engagement were George Gunter and Felix Whitney. During the seasons of 96l -s2-s3 the three were known as the Gunter brothers.
 We learned to do our stunts in a gym nasium in Cincinnati" Newell said few days ago. We thought 1t would be lots of sport to work in a circus. But ye gods! It was the hardest work I ever tried to do. It was like this: Parade at 10 o'clock in the morning, last until 2 o'clock; show up at the show ground at o'clock, and work until 4;3o; leave the circus ring hot and tired. take a bath by o'clock, get bite of supper and show up at 8 o clock for another performance. Work until o'clock, get in a hot stuffy car by o'clock, get to sleep by 2 and be hauled out again at or 6. Then start all over again, parade performance, another performance and three or four hours sleep Six days out of the week, and prob ably travelling all day Sunday. No man could endure 1t long"
 Its q fascinating life, though. A man likes the tinsel the music and the crowds. l liked every performanct-all but one In that one l came near killing a woman. When the trapese was on the ground that morning big drag drove over the end of it, and mashed swivel which held rope 1 did not notice 1t. The afternoon performance came, the trapeze was swung into place, and l climbed to 1t. We didn't have nets beneath us to catch us in case of fall. A little woman working with me that day climbed to a bar over my head. She was to spring into the air, and I was to catch her by a wrist and foot she shot down past me. She made ready. l swung on the trapeze head down. ward. l gave the signal and she sprang to me. l caught her wrist and ankle all right, but as her weight was added to mine, something snapped, and we both shot to the ground. She was beneath me of course, and my shoulder sank into her back. There was q crunching of bones, and when 1 got away, she was uncon- scious her shoulder and several ribs broken. The little woman still bears the mark of that fall
 Circus life was too hard" Newell said and when the show landed in New York ready to sail for England, I quit That was in 1883. I drifted back to Cincin- nati"
 Persons who watched the completion of the Long building a few weeks ago know that Charlie Newell likes to swing in mid air. He rode the last piece of steel that was pulled by derrick to the top of the thirteenth story and then walked around the steel work for a complete circuit of the building. To further show that he had no fear of space, he stood on his head on piece of steel less than a foot wide | 50 feet above the ground and with noth- ing to catch him in case of a fall.
 Newell spent seventeen years on the Chicago and Alton railway, running trains He was first brakeman and then conductor. He used to turn hand springs from one car to another while the train was doing thirty-five miles an hour.
 But I'm an old policeman now" Newell says T can turn an air spring yet. but that's about all. I'm too heavy for that kind of work"