Sideshow 12: Murder in Gibtown

big scandal. Pickled punks, as they were known, had long been a sideshow standard, but by the nineteen seventies people were reconsidering the attraction of formal the hide suspended fetuses in a jar. The times were changing. You see, a cultural shift was happening, and you only had to look towards Gibson Town, Florida for proof. Sideshow performers have been flocking to Give Town, as they call it, for decades.

It had been a small bit of coastal town southeast of Tampa, home to fisherman and a small lumber company. Grace and Eddie LeMay were the first carnival folk to visit in nine, a trip spent camping and fishing. They told their friends a lot of them actually, and by nineteen forty five the town had grown by hundreds of residents, many of which were from the side show. These new arrivals would change the DNA of the town. Special zoning laws allowed them to house and train elephants and lions

in their gardens. The post office had a counter low enough for people with dwarf is um. The bar had chairs built perfectly sized for the comfort of large ladies and giants alike. Gibson Town had the air of a family reunion. When performers settled back in after a long season on the circuit, tongues would wag, beer would flow, and babies and business deals would be made. Gibson Town was their winter wonderland. It was home a refuge from

the prime eyes of the outside world. But as the era of the American side show began to sunset, conflict began to arise between two worlds, those on the inside and those on the outside. The lights of the town began to dim and the cracks began to show. The broader world was beginning to question, reject, and outlaw much of what had been part and parcel of the side show.

Elements that had in decades past drawn huge crowds willing to part with their hard earned money the cultural institution was fading, and those dollars were becoming more difficult to come by. It was at this moment, amidst all of this change, that the pickled Punks took center stage as a flashpoint for national controversy. You see, back in the day, it wasn't uncommon to find jarred human body parts in

curiosity cabinets. There was still little known about the body for so long, and hungry minds wanted to know its secrets. Over time, these jars made the leap from private settings and into the hands of the public for tentilation and consumption, and of course, for profits. But by the nineteen seventies, several states had passed legislation banning transportation of human remains across state lines. Soon laws were on the books that

eventually outlawed even the possession of them. And this is where we find legendary showman and Gibson Town resident Ward Hall. In nineteen seventy seven, he was operating what he liked to call the Freak Baby Show, and it was exactly what you might imagine it to be. For seventy five cents, visitors had the pleasure of viewing malformed, jarred fetuses uh fish baby, a frog, boy and girl, a cyclopse baby,

Siamese twins. You get the idea. There were warnings attached to each one suggesting that the abnormalities were a result of the mother's moral failings, and it billed itself as a nonprofit educational exhibit to boot Wards collection was being exhibited at a county fair in Illinois by his partner C. M. Christ, but the law would intervene. Police rated the exhibits and confiscated the punks. CM was arrested on charges of illegal possession of human remains and was questioned about where he

had gotten them and who they were. He would later be acquitted, citing that a similar exhibit had appeared at the Chicago World's Fair in nineteen thirty three. But while CM was set free, the punks remained in police custody. Just a few weeks later, in several hundred miles to the south, local police rated Wards storage facilities in Gibson Town. They found two punks that had not previously been confiscated in Illinois, so a warrant was issued for his arrest.

According to newspaper articles from the time, a total of and I quote thirteen unborn babies and embryos floating in jars of for malde hyde were discovered and confiscated at his property, which the article described as a carnival man's backyard. He was able to get the charges dropped, but similar raids kicked off across the country. As these exhibits were forced to close, people found themselves without livelihoods. One seized collection was estimated to be worth well over one hundred

thousand dollars. It was just getting harder and harder to make a living in the side show. By the end of that year, the issue was put to a close, well sort of. On a November day, and under a blue sky, a single vault was opened. People stood somberly in black in the thick of that quiet, Tiny foam caskets were lowered into the ground a funeral for these

so called carnival babies. The reverend presiding proclaimed that with the burial, and I quote, we also bury the idea that human life should be a grotesque spectacle, that human life is cheap or to be exploited. Ironic then that the funeral itself was meant to be a spectacle. You see, the event was photographed and highly publicized in national newspapers.

They got a lot of lawmakers talking. Even in shutting down these exhibits, it seems a glimpse of such specimens, or at least their caskets, still attracted a lot of attention, for better or for worse from the American public. It seems that despite the very public outcry, we still couldn't help. But look, I'm Aaron Manky and welcome to the side show. Grady Styles was perched on his bar stool, content he had killed a man and gotten away with it. In fact, it seems that he had gotten away with a lot

in his life. He drained his glass down his throat and felt his body grow warm. Grady had nowhere to be. He had no where he wanted to be. Really, He signaled for a fresh round with his claw, and the bartender poured him another stiff drink. The other bar flies didn't like him much. He was a mean drunk, but

he was also a legend. As famous as he was infamous, he had a reputation that reached far beyond Florida's stormy spring skies and bleak expanse of US Route forty one, Gibson Town, where we find Grady Here was once a spectacle itself, but by the nineteen nineties GiB Town had faded in grade along with many of its stars. And it wasn't just that some had faded, some had been overshadowed by darkness. Grady Styles Jr. Had been born into

a sideshow family in nineteen thirty seven. His body was home to extrodactyl ly, a rare congenital deformity that fused his fingers into claws and gave him truncated legs that ended at his knees. You see, the Styles could trace their claws back generations and had become something of a sideshow circuit legend. And for his family, more offspring meant more dollars. The Lobster Family, as they were known, moved to the Gibson Town area in n around the same time.

Young Grady left school to join the family act. But his role on stage as Lobster Boy wasn't much. He just sat in a chair and waved his claws as spectators when they came to see him. It's hard to know exactly what made Grady mean, what turned him. Maybe he was ostracized when he was small until he found home in Gibb Town. There, he was just like any other sideshow kid, and his family was just like everyone else.

He often got around in a wheelchair, but just as easily used his upper body strength to move across the floor at an alarming speed. He grew strong and dextrous, rough housing with his friends, charming the girls, and even learning to fire a pistol. And like check Off, Grady always liked his guns, a passion that would come back to haunt him. He got married a few times and started a family with one of those wives. His marriage to marry Teresa had always been volatile. He ruled his

house with an iron claw. His wife and his children were often on the receiving end of his rage, though so when his eldest daughter, Donna announced at fifteen that she was pregnant and marrying her bow, Grady had some opinions and an idea. The day before their wedding and twelve whiskey doubles later, Grady invited his future son in law Jack into the house for a chat. Jack obliged

the last decision he would ever make. Donna was the first to hear the shots ring out in a moment Jack was stumbling out of the house, blood pouring from his chest, and fell down right in the doorway. Grady had shot him. Donna ran to him and looked up to find Grady gloating. I told you I would, he said, and then Donna screamed. To his credit, Grady waited patiently for the police to arrive take me. I'm ready, he told them, surrendering his wrists and his gun to them.

He went to trial, and there he readily admitted to his deed. He carried no remorse for him. This was wholly inactive practicality. He simply didn't want his daughter marrying that guy. The jury deliberated for three hours, and after

that Grady was sentenced to only fifteen years probation. You see, the authorities believe that because of Grady's compounding set of physical conditions cirrhosis from drinking and physema from smoking, and his ectrodactually he wouldn't be able to receive the adequate care behind bars. They thought keeping him locked up would be cruel. He quickly skipped down and took the money that he owed to his lawyer and used it to assemble his own ten in one side show. But he

wouldn't be gone for long. All side show roads lead back to GiB Town, after all, and that's exactly how he found himself atop his familiar bar stool on that humid May night. With this tab running up and the night winding down, Grady closed out and took his leave. He headed home to his brown trailer on Inglewood Drive, his family's least favorite time of the day. They would

never truly grow accustomed to his inevitable drunk arrival. He and Mary Teresa had been divorced at one time the abuse had become too much, but at this point they were one year into their second marriage to each other. Grady had promised to change. You see, he had managed to charm her again. He had been on his best behavior,

and she hoped that these changes were real. But old habits die hard, as they say, and within two weeks of their new union, Grady had turned back into a monster m It's not every day that someone gets cut up and reassembled, but Mary Teresa Herzog lived for it. She got her side show start as a ticket seller, but soon graduated to the Zigzag Girl act, where she'd while audiences by getting sliced up into thirds. But this was harmless fun, after all an illusion. There was not

a drop of bloodshed nor any band aids needed. It was off stage, though, away from the bright lights and the carnival barkers, that she took on her most fearsome role. She was a wife. You see, to be a woman is a very dangerous thing. The statistics tell us as much.

Current studies say that one in four women will be the victims of severe physical violence at the hands of their intimate partner, one in five will experience sexual violence, one in seven will be stocked, and studies tell us that the presence of a gun in a domestic violent situation increases the risk of homicide by five That isn't to say that people who aren't women don't experience abuse.

They do, but the majority of the world's social and economic systems have long favored cis men with female partners, putting women who pair with men into vulnerable situations. We can trace the precedent for men's physical domination over women back to Hammarabi, back to the Koran, back to the Roman Empire, back to Old English common law that suggested

a lane of hands as a corrective measure. Historically, there have been a lot of rules that have spelled out what was allowed to go on in the home and what was going on and Married Teresa's home had been for years. It was something people knew but only whispered about. She had been wooed by the Lobster Boy one spring day in Trenton, New Jersey, back in nineteen fifty nine. Sparks flew, and their lives were set on a course from which they would never turn back. If their trailer

was Gradi's castle, it was married Teresa's prison. It was here she both labored to raise a family and to protect them from their father. She loved him fiercely at times, and we can wonder if he loved her too. What we do know is that he wanted to control her, a desire exercise through his use of fists and threats to kill again. But this time he threatened that it would be her. So when Grady ambled home from the bar that night sufficiently inebriated and agitated, Mary, Teresa and

their daughter Cathy found themselves directly in his line of fire. Kathy, also born with extrodacty ly and seven months pregnant, had long positioned herself as the protector of her mother. She wouldn't have continued to stay with the sideshow if not for the need to keep her mother safe. Unprovoked, Grady flew into a whiskey soaked rage. He started beating Mary Teresa. Kathy tried to intervene from her wheelchair, yelling that her father preferred the bottle to his family, and then he

turned his anger on her. Grady started in on her heart, pummeling her in the arms, the jaw, and eventually knocking her around so much that she fell from her chair. The fleshy thuds knocked the wind from Cathy's lungs and felt like hammer is coming down on her bones. The pain was white and blinding, the shocks reverberating through her entire skeleton. She fought back, of course, but nothing could be done until Grady decided that he was finished. Kathy

barely slept after the attack that night. She didn't say anything about the pain until she started hemorrhaging. The next morning. She rushed to the hospital. Kathy told the doctor who performed her emergency c section that she had simply fallen out of her wheelchair. Did he believe her Probably not. The baby's placenta had separated from the umbilical cord and Cathy's water had broken as a result of the violence.

Baby Misty came into the world on May six, and she was healthy, and she too was born with lobster claws. It's hard to know exactly when Mary Teresa decided that enough was enough. What we do know, though, is that there was an immense amount of courage and strength that it took on the part of both of these him in to stand up for each other in the face

of such terror. After decades of torment, of living in a vortex of violence, with bloodshed just as likely as tears, Mary Teresa knew at some point that this had to end, and she didn't want to be the one who went first. It all culminated on a fairly normal day, as the most pivotal moments of our lives often due. It was November and the Styles family was back home in give Town and ready to settle in for a quiet winter.

Mary Teresa and her teenage son Glenn, decided to make an evening visit to Kathy and Misty, who are living just across the way. The child was too, by now small and mighty, toddling around and just beginning to come up with her own opinions about life. They were all together in Cathy's trailer when the sound of gunshots split the night for just a few moments. The crickets and bullfrogs were stunned into silence. Everyone looked at each other, their pulses quickening. There was a chill in the air

where there hadn't been before. Some quick thinking neighbors called the cops. Mary, Teresa, and Glenn ran back in the direction of the sounds. Their home. The trailer's sliding glass door was a jar. In light from the living room spilled onto the concrete outside. The stench of whiskey and cigarettes lay thick, a smell that was now mingled with

the acrid, metallic odor of blood and brain matter. And there, slumped over in his brown armchair was Grady Styles Jr. Dead from not one but three gunshot wounds to the head. His reign of terror had finally come to an end, and he had gone out wearing only his boxer briefs. All was quiet in the house. The police arrived, quickly, securing the perimeter and confirming that Grady Jr. Was in fact, very, very dead. Then they began interviewing everyone in the immediate vicinity.

They deduced that nothing was stolen and there was no sign of a struggle. A neighbor said that he had seen a shadowy figure run from the trailer shortly after hearing the gun go off. How far could the perpetrator have gotten on foot? Mary, Teresa, Glenn, and Cathy stood obediently and answered questions, but the police thought something was off. Oddly, they all seemed fine, so fine in fact, that the detectives took notice. Yes, shock does interesting things to a person,

but this just felt a little strange. It wasn't long until members of the family were brought down to the station for more official questioning. Glenn was the first to take a lie detector test about the whole affair, and with the childlike innocence, was eager to do. Well, then can you blame him? When the detectives revealed that he had failed some questions, mostly those referring to his knowledge

about Grady's killing, he crumbled. They soon wore him down and he signed away his rights to have a lawyer present, and then the confession came spilling out. He talked about Gradie's abuse of his mom, how he was always threatening to kill her and get it over with. They just couldn't take it any longer. Mary Teresa had devised away

to finally teach him a lesson. Gradie the third, who was asleep in the back bedroom of the trailer when all of this took place, later stated that his mother's only intention was to hire someone to scare his father, or maybe just rough him up a little. What we know now, though, was that Chris Wyant, a neighborhood punk,

took the job for a cool fifteen hundred dollars. Mary Teresa, Glenn, and Chris all got their separate days in court in January of n It was ruled that Chris was guilty of conspiracy in the first degree and murder in the second. Mary Teresa's trial began that July, with heart wrenching testimony spilling into the pages of the newspaper. My husban been was going to kill my family, she testified, I believe

that from the bottom of my heart. Her attorney attempted to use the battered spouse defense, a position never before tried in Florida in a murder for higher case. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she was sentenced to twelve years in prison. On first degree murder charges. Glenn, who was on trial for hiring Chris, received a life sentence. I wish I could tell you something different. We all love a happy ending, a story that can tie neatly into a bow, but this isn't one of those. It

was probably never going to be one. This situation was one of true horror. But maybe in what happened, we find the lesser of all the evils. Through the death of one of them, there would be something a bit closer to peace for everyone else. The same year that all of this happened, President Bill Clinton signed the Violence Against Women Act into law. It allocated over one point six billion dollars towards the investigation and prosecution of violent

crimes against women. The initiative was the result of the feminist movement's collective grassroots efforts, work that had spanned decades. Even still, disconcerting attitudes towards domestic violence have long determined how we govern ourselves within the walls of our homes. Some may want to leave, but can't for any number of reasons of dependency, stubborn commitment, cultural pressure, or just

plain fear. Community leaders and police officers have been known to counsel people to try to make abusive situations work, even though the lives at hand might be in imminent danger. The Violence Against Women Act signaled the beginning of a shift in society. But as we know, gargantuan ships take a long time to change course in rough waters, and we are still so far from our desk a nation. Grady Styles Jr. Was buried in the local showman cemetery.

The story goes that he was so widely disliked that they had a hard time finding anyone who was willing to be a pall bearer. That's in the fact that a large part of his family was being tried for murder. And when pall bearers were finally located, the story tells us that the concession was that they would only do the job if they could handle it with a little bit of flare, with lobster claw mittens on their hands.

To be precise, A bouquet of flowers sat atop his coffin a pretty site amidst this final inflection point of a decade's long tragedy, and anyone present, whether they be mourner or gawker, would have been able to see the words printed across their banner from your loving wife. This was a heavy story. I think I can speak for all of us here at grim and Mild when I say that this episode has us hugging our families a

little bit closer today. If you are someone you love is struggling at home right now, we've included resource links in the episode description. Now I have something new for you, something different, a look at what's ahead coming from the contemporary world of the Side Show with my co producers Robin Miniter and Taylor Haggerdorn. Stick around through this brief sponsor break to hear all about it. Wow, that was

a doozy of an episode. He really was. You know, we've encountered some dark stories over the course of the season, and it's really easy to remove ourselves from them, you know, just to think that they are tales of yesteryear, that these things took place a long time ago, maybe back at a time where we weren't so knowledgeable or we weren't so enlightened. But in meeting Grady and a say only we can understand that we really aren't that far

removed from this history. None of this took place that long ago, and the Side Show might be harder to find these days. But it's ghosts, it's still lingers. You're right, well said, but I would move that beyond being a ghost right into this very real, very present force. It

really surprised me. I think it surprised you too. You know, when we started this, it was chronological, and we had to start with Barnum, right, We had to reckon with this, and I certainly didn't predict that we'd end up with this new and yet similar kind of darkness with Grady. But the Grady in the nineties wasn't the end of the side your story. That's right, you know. That brings us right up to the present. And I actually have one more Grady Styles adjacent story for our listeners. You

want to hear it, absolutely please? All right? So Styles family legacy still felt in Gibsonton, you know, people are not and to forget what happened that easily. However, today I've been Philly in a place that's far removed from give town and time and place. Uh. There's a gal named Kim Kelly who remembers the infamous side show Lobster Boy in her own way. When I was looking back through history trying to find other people that were, you know, lobster boys, lobster girls all rose kind of lead to

gratty styles. So Kim she had a personal reason to go looking. She's a writer, she's an organizer, and she just happens to be someone else who was born with extrodectilly. So for her, that means some of her fingers on one hand are fused together. But growing up she knew that her handmade her a little bit different, but actually it didn't make that much difference in her life. And

she'll tell you this. Once I learned how to paint my nails like it's fine, and I'm still pretty good a painting my nails as long as I have you know,

cute tip with polished mover. But everyone needs that. She walked through life pretty nonplused, and so much so that she didn't just not care about what people thought, but she actively embraced things that were pretty offbeat, and she feels she's always had the confidence just to do her own thing, especially when I was like a cute little fourteen year old girl, too much eyeliner and like long blonde hair, Like I think there are other things that

stood out to people more than like me, missing fingers. But not too long ago something happened that made her see her limb difference in an entirely new way. Who interesting, tell me more? Okay, so a few years ago, she thought she was just headed out on another job, just another writing assignment, as she want to do well. What she found when she got there ended up being something far more profound. I wrote the story, and I, you know, interviewed people, and you know I didn't. I did the work,

but it became much more of a personal journey. Such a silly word. But they had switched from professional to personal real quick. And so because of this, and for many other reasons, she's going to be a guest on our next and last episode. I mean, actually have one more person we want to introduce to our cool cat listeners, right, yes, ma'am. So we'll get to meet our new friend, Dr Bob Thompson. By day, he's a mass media scholar at Syracuse University.

I will confess right now that I have watched The Bachelor from the very beginning, and I will also confess that I get some pleasure out of watching that heinous little odd men. But by night he's watching more TV than anyone I've ever met, including you, Robin, and I know that because you have my Hulu passwords. Thank you for that. But that said jabs aside, So Taylor, what does TV have to do with the side show anyways? Well that's a damn good question, isn't it. I mean,

I'm in the business of asking questions. You are, and you're in look because you will soon find out that Bob Thompson has all sorts of answers for us. Interesting. We've got this really powerful, too som in store for the listeners, don't we. Do you think they're curious enough to stick around for one last episode? Well, as you could also say, certain intellectual curiosity can kill a lot more than cats. Stop it. We can't scare them away. I was just telling them how excited I was, so

nothing to be. You're here, listen, listen. We're actually doing exactly what all the sideshow goers used to do. Following our noses, We're moving closer, you know, within a safe distance to our curiosity. So you know, it's time to get up close and personal with some of our lingering questions about where the side show is headed next. All right, I'm sold. Let's go right on while see you back here in two weeks, same time, same place, for one

last look at the side show. Side Show was written by Robin Minat with narration by me Aaron Mankey Reese. Search for the series was by Robin Mineter, Taylor Haggard, RN, and Sam Alberty, with production assistants from Josh Than, Jesse Funk, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. Grim and Mile Presents was created in partnership with I Heart Radio. You can learn more about this show and everything else from Grim and mild Over at Grim and mild dot com and, as always, thanks for listening. M