MILTON LEVINE: Eddie was a little on the grotesque side, but actually I don’t think he was any taller than the tallest basketball player . . .
DOCTOR: A prominent jaw . . . an extremely large tongue.
CHRIS: I really forget exactly how tall he was, but I think he was near seven feet, or 7’2”, 7’4”.
IRWIN SHERMAN: Realistically, Eddie was 8 foot 9.
DOCTOR: Very big hands and big feet that are difficult to maneuver.
WOMAN: He had enormous black shoes and he could barely lift up a foot . . . And he’d just be walking like Frankenstein.
NEIL: He was around 8’’6’ and weighed around 375 pounds.
LEVINE: I don’t think he was much over seven feet, although we sold him at eight and a half. I forget what the hell we said he was . . . what did I say he was?
NEIL: He was tall enough to lean on the parking signs that were there for alternative parking in New York City, which would have put him probably well up in 8 foot range. He was a big man.
LEVINE: Not only was he big but his hands were very big, his face was very big, his feet were very large . . . his frame was big.
WOMAN: Just enormous. Enormous and misshapen.
LEVINE: He was an attraction.
WOMAN: With the long fingers and . . . the huge feet.
LEVINE: He was an attraction.
WOMAN: It was almost like how could this be? How come he’s alive?
JENNY CARCHMAN: To the rest of the world, Eddie Carmel was a giant, frozen forever in a famous photograph, but not to my family. He was born a normal-sized baby on March 16, 1936. My father, his first cousin, was born six years later to the day.
CARCHMAN: I need to talk to you.
DAD: Me?
CARCHMAN: Yeah.
CARCHMAN: My father and Eddie were extremely close, but for some reason my father never talked about him.
CARCHMAN: Am I going to have to watch this whole movie in order to talk to you?
DAD: No. I am turning it off now. You know — you — Jen —
CARCHMAN: What?
DAD: You just show up . . .
CARCHMAN: The first time I saw Eddie I was eight years old. My mom was showing me Diane Arbus’s book of photographs. She paused on a picture of a giant and told me that his name was Eddie and that he was my cousin. I was terrified. I went to ask my dad about him. It was the first time I ever saw him cry. We never talked about it again.
DAD: If you want to talk about him, say to me, ”I’d like to sit down with you and talk about Eddie. When can we do that?” But you just show up and that’s wrong. Get that camera down, please. You know, I can’t sit in my house. I am dressed in a T-shirt.
CARCHMAN: Dad.
DAD: You’re intruding on my privacy.
CARCHMAN: Alright, I’m turning it off.
GRANDMA: There’s your daddy.
CARCHMAN: I like this picture of you.
GRANDMA: See how thin I was?
CARCHMAN: Beautiful.
GRANDMA: Thin, thin . . . not beautiful, but thin.
CARCHMAN: My grandma, Dorothy Carchman, was Eddie’s aunt. Her older sister Miriam was Eddie’s mother.
GRANDMA: This is Eddie.
CARCHMAN: Yeah.
GRANDMA: And at this stage Eddie was, um . . .
CARCHMAN: She’s never talked to me about Eddie before. She seems more comfortable now when I am behind the camera .
GRANDMA: He was gorgeous. He was a gorgeous child.
CARCHMAN: Yeah, he’s really cute.
CARCHMAN: Eddie’s six and a half, he has light brown curly hair and red chubby cheeks.
GRANDMA: Here’s Eddie, already big. You see his face, his head . . .
CARCHMAN: Big . . .
GRANDMA: But you know what?
MAN: At the bar mitzvah, he was big . . . but it wasn’t clear he was going to be eight feet plus.
GRANDMA: At his bar mitzvah . . .
CARCHMAN: It’s Thanksgiving and after years of dinners with no mention of Eddie, my family finally begins to tell his story.
GRANDMA (interview): At his bar mitzvah he was perfectly normal, he was a beautiful little boy. It was the summer of his 15th . . . he was 15 in March, and the following summer he was at camp. And that’s when he got sick. And I got a call at 11:00 at night that they were coming in by ambulance with Eddie to take him to the Hospital of Confectious Diseases.
DAD: Infectious.
GRANDMA: Infectious. The Hospital of Confectious Diseases. Infectious. Anyway, no one knew what was wrong. And they started to work on him, put him through tests and all of that.
GRANDMA (interview): It wasn’t until further examination, weeks of probing and trying to find out, that they really were able to determine that what he was suffering, it was from acromegaly . . . and it was tumor on his pituitary gland.
GRANDMA (dinner): It was the pituitary gland, and at that time, you know this is many years ago, surgery was almost out of the question.
GRANDMA (interview): At that time already Eddie was taller than any 15 year old. His height was noticeably different from that time on.
CARCHMAN: He has thick dark curly hair, full lips and freckles, long arms and long legs. He’s six and a half feet tall and growing.
GRANDMA (dinner): No, let me tell you what was happening at that point in his life. He knew that he was different. If he needed a haircut he wouldn’t go to the local barber.
GRANDMA (interview): He had a stupid barber in the Bronx who always would say something. He used to come from Jersey. First time I went in to the barber the day before, I told him who was coming in.
GRANDMA (dinner): And for him not to make remarks. You see, I had to forewarn him. He enjoyed coming to West Orange because the two people who saw nothing wrong with him were his two little cousins, Philip and Marion. Phillip would go out and call his friends to come in to meet his cousin Eddie.
DAD: Eddie was my first cousin. He was six years older than I was to the day. We shared the same birthday.
CARCHMAN: This is the first time my dad has talked about Eddie in 25 years.
DAD: He was a committed New York Giant fan and I was a Dodger fan. And one day I was invited by him to go the Giant-Dodger game in the Polo Grounds. And I remember he was being taunted as we were walking by young people in the street, you know, ”Look at the giant,” ”Look at the tall man,” ”Hey buddy, how tall are you?” Everyone used to ask him how tall he was.
GRANDMA (interview): He did stand out in a crowd, you couldn’t help but take another look and he was aware of it and it bothered him, terribly. He was so bright. And because he was so bright, he understood more his situation. I used to say if only something would happen to his mind so that there would not be the awareness, that would make us feel better. But because he was so bright and because he knew what the situation was, it made it worse . . . it made it worse.
CARCHMAN: Eddie’s 17. He’s in high school in the Bronx towering over everyone. He has to bend down to get through doorways. His mother has all of his clothes custom-made. Little kids in the neighborhood run up to him and measure their shoes next to his. They treat him like a celebrity.
SELMA CUTLER SPEIGLER: I understand that you’re looking for people who knew Eddie.
CARCHMAN: I took out ads looking for people who might remember my cousin.
SPEIGLER (reading from letter): We were both in the same English class in Taft High School in the Bronx. Eddie sat next to me in the back of the room. I’ll always remember that he was very smart. He liked poetry and I know that there were not many in the class who enjoyed a good book or a classic story.
That is why it saddens and horrified me when I went to the circus in the Garden . . . and we went to the sideshow, which we always hated, but went to anyway, and there was Ed. They picked up his foot to show his shoe size. They picked up his hand to show his large fingers. I tried to get his attention but he didn’t see me in the crowd. I turned and started to cry and pushed my way out. My sister wanted to know what was wrong. I just told her, ’Ed is not a freak.’ How could they do this to him? He has a great mind. Look what he is doing to earn a few dollars.’
I will never forget that and I am 62 years old now. Ed was so sweet and dear. Thank God they do not have sideshows anymore. Good luck with your story.
Selma Cutler Speigler
CARCHMAN: Eddie graduates from Taft High School in 1954. Under the picture in his yearbook it says ”A Big Man with a Big Heart.” He enrolls at City College as a business major. He’s elected president of his Freshman class. He’s living at home with his parents; they’re not getting along. On weekends, he escapes to my grandma’s house in New Jersey. He’s seven feet tall and growing.
GRANDMA: He and I, very late at night, sat in the den and he was bemoaning his fate and he said to me — and that was the first time he used the word — he said ”I’m a freak.” So I said ”Eddie, yes, you’re the tallest person that I know. And if you want to use the word ’freak’ so be it. Now what are you gonna do about it?
CARCHMAN: At 21 Eddie drops out of college and starts taking the train into Manhattan, hoping to break into show business. During the days he auditions. At night he hangs out in comedy clubs. That’s where he meets Irwin Sherman. They become best friends.
IRWIN SHERMAN: Eddie wanted to be world’s tallest comedian. I got to like Eddie because he was a very wonderful guy, and we developed a very unique relationship. Eddie made his living by doing a lot of different things. He certainly — his father would say, ”Why don’t you get a regular job?” Eddie used to say ”Look at me! What do you want me to do, work in the post office?” He’d get angry with his father, rightfully so because anywhere he goes, he would attract attention.
CARCHMAN: Eddie spends a couple of years hanging out with Irwin, performing on street corners. They come up with weird publicity stunts, like running for Governor or launching a tall person’s protest against the Volkswagen Bug. It gets him on to radio and TV talk shows. At 25 Eddie gets a break and goes to Hollywood to make a monster movie.
(Sounds of movie.)
CARCHMAN: Eddie plays a science experiment gone awry, a monster locked in a closet by an evil doctor.
SHERMAN: In our travels, Eddie and I would go to various movie theaters on 42nd street where they have those porno theaters, you know those real one and half dollar theaters. And we’d see a big billboard, the movie The Head that Wouldn’t Die is playing there and he says ”Win, we got to go see my movie,” you know, so like two jerks you know we went in to see the movie and we go up in the balcony, and he is talking incessantly through the whole picture, and there is a guy in front of us who is annoyed but he hasn’t looked — turned around yet. Comes the big scene where Eddie kills the mad scientist and carries the beautiful bikini-clad girl away, this guy turns around to tell Eddie to shut up and he turns around and he sees Eddie, and he turns to screen and sees Eddie again, and he went screaming insanely out of the theater and I think he got killed on 42nd street being hit by a cab.
MAN IN MOVIE: What are you running from . . . what’s wrong with you?!
OTHER MAN: Oh, its you!
CARCHMAN: It’s the high point of his career, but he’s lonely, and there aren’t a lot of roles for giants. Back in New York he makes a few TV appearances and tries doing voice-overs. This is a homemade tape of him auditioning for a job as a newscaster. It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice.
AUDITION TAPE OF EDDIE: Our feature story in just a moment, but first: you know you haven’t seen anything if you haven’t seen a wash done with the new Lifetime Oxidol. Lifetime Oxidol actually washes white clothes sparkling white for life.
JOE FRANKLIN: He had great speaking voice — his voice — can you hear his voice in your mind right now?
CARCHMAN: That’s Joe Franklin, legendary local talk show host. In 1963, Eddie works in his times square office.
FRANKLIN: He was my right hand man for about 9 months here, would never take money from me. I would buy him lunch and I told him not to smoke, because I didn’t want to stunt his growth. We had all kinds of great lines going back and forth, you know. Are you a first cousin, huh?
CARCHMAN: He was my first cousin once removed.
FRANKLIN: He was great. And he used to tell me about his pituitary problem and his glands. He was just a beautiful man and if anybody would ever call him a freak, he would cry. He was incredibly sensitive.
CARCHMAN: Did that happen a lot?
FRANKLIN: Once or twice, yeah. Sometimes when he would be in other part of my office and somebody would say, ”Where is the freak?” and he walks in and they didn’t know he was in the back listening. He was just a gentle, gentle — I don’t want to say monster — but a gentle . . . gentle giant.
AUDITION TAPE: This concludes my audition tape and I want to thank you all for taking the time to listen. I hope you found the audition satisfactory and that you will have an opening on your announcing staff. In any event, I would appreciate the return of the tape.
CARCHMAN: Eddie cuts a record, a 45 called ”The Good Monster.”
SONG: Once upon a time there was a monster. Now there are good monsters and there are bad monsters. This was a good monster. He didn’t like to scare people and he didn’t mind when kids would say ”go back to your cave, man.” He only liked to sing and dance and laugh (Laughs) but every time he laughed all the kids ran away . . .
CARCHMAN: In the song Eddie tells the story of a giant monster who goes to a party. The kids are dancing upstairs. The monster stands outside peering in at them through a second story window.
SONG: But being a shy monster he was afraid to go inside and ask anyone to dance with him. He realized that his dancing sometimes got out of hand.
CARCHMAN: So he just stands outside by himself listening to the music. He gets lonely, but then he spots a girl staring at him. He realizes that she’s also watching the party from a second story window. She must be as tall as he is. He’s doesn’t feel alone anymore.
SONG: And who is this story all about? Why, that little old monster, me!
CARCHMAN: The record’s a flop. His career is going nowhere. And Eddie continues to grow. When he can no longer grow up his body grows out: his hands, his jaw, his feet and his head are all getting bigger.
SIDESHOW PITCH: In here today you are going to see on our stage the big giant, big Eddie Carmel, the tallest living human being in the world, standing eight feet, one and a half inches in height, weighs 462 pounds, he is so big that when he extends his arms . . .
CARCHMAN: Eddie starts working in the sideshow as an attraction.
PITCH: Eddie would you hold up your foot so the folks can see that, would you hold it a little higher, there is a lady in the back can’t quite see. I will hold my arms up against his foot. As you can see as long as my elbow to the end of my finger. Now the ring . . .
CARCHMAN: Eddie travels with a sideshow called The World of Mirth, run by a man named Milton Levine who still lives in the Bronx.
LEVINE: I’m Milton Levine, at the present time working as auctioneer in the city of New York. Years ago, 30 or 40 years ago, I worked around carnivals. I was a talker in front of the shows. One of the attractions was Eddie Carmel. What more can I tell you about Eddie? We were friends. Very moody, very moody. He had a good sense of humor but with always an underlying sadness.
CARCHMAN: Eddie makes his living selling giant rings for a quarter.
LEVINE: He would sometimes stay on stage instead of doing his whole bit he would say ”I am the giant. You want a ring, it’s fifty cents. Nobody want a ring, goodbye.”
CARCHMAN: What was his act?
LEVINE: Well he would sit there, and he is a giant. And all this and of course he told everyone that he ate tremendous amounts of food, which he didn’t. And what it was like to be a giant. It was almost like an act of being a giant, except he couldn’t take the make up off. He had to wear that make up all the time. So nobody could see the inner person. You see, Eddie was an educated freak. Whereas most of the people in the side show business were people that should have been institutionalized, but there was no place for them. Eddie had a brain.
CARCHMAN: Do you think that’s what made him sad was that?
LEVINE: He didn’t want to be what he was. He was very interested in the stock market. Today he could do all that off a computer. Nobody would know they were dealing with a giant, with a hunch back, that’s mad at everybody. He was a sideshow attraction, and he knew he was more than that. But there was no way to express it, he was trapped. A normal healthy brain inside body of a giant.
CARCHMAN: Hi.
ROB HOUSTON: Hello there.
CARCHMAN: I’m Jenny.
HOUSTON: You’re Jenny? Hi, nice to meet you.
CARCHMAN: Are you Rob?
HOUSTON: Yes.
CARCHMAN: Rob Houston’s a sideshow collector who owns a lot of Eddie’s things. I drove to his house in Philadelphia to meet him. He’d laid out Eddie’s clothes for me in the living room.
HOUSTON: This is his shoe. Size 24 shoe. Here you go. These are the pants he wore.
CARCHMAN: So like his waist is actually where my shoulders start.
HOUSTON: That’s right. That’s right. Okay, well this is his coat. Do you want to try on your cousin’s coat?
CARCHMAN: I’d love to try on his coat.
HOUSTON: Alright.
CARCHMAN: It’s like a sleeping bag. Wow . . . now can I ask you how you got his coat, his pants and his shoes?
HOUSTON: Sure.
CARCHMAN: When he heard Eddie had died, Rob says he called Eddie’s parents. They invited him over to their apartment in the Bronx.
HOUSTON: I rang the bell, I was kind of surprised to see two rather short individuals, Mr. and Mrs. Carmel, so we had a very nice chat. I think I had cookies and milk, I’m not sure. But they were quite cordial and then we got onto the business at hand. I got his over coat, a pair of purple slacks, a pair of shoes, plus one shoe, underwear, I think socks.
CARCHMAN: Can I ask you strange question?
HOUSTON: I’m sorry, go ahead.
CARCHMAN: Can I ask you a strange question?
HOUSTON: Yes.
CARCHMAN: They gave these to you?
HOUSTON: No, they didn’t give them to me. I bought them.
CARCHMAN: Oh, you bought them.
HOUSTON: Oh, you didn’t understand that? I purchased them.
CARCHMAN: You purchased everything from them. It seems odd. It seems odd a little bit for them to sell his underwear. Don’t you think? A little bit . . .
HOUSTON: No. You have to understand it was just with the things.
CARCHMAN: It was just thrown in?
HOUSTON: Yeah, and you know when you are buying things, ”Sure, sure put that in there too. Put it in there too.” Okay, now I think you’ve pretty much seen what I have.
CARCHMAN: Um . . . hmm.
CARCHMAN: Eddie works for years as the Giant in the Ringling Brothers Sideshow at Madison Square Garden. In the early years he’s a star, the featured attraction, earning twice as much as anyone else in the circus. But as Eddie gets bigger, his health deteriorates. When he hits his late 20s he’s in a lot of pain and becomes more and more depressed. He’s not such an attraction anymore.
IRWIN SHERMAN: Of course there were crazy people who came and would sticks pin in his legs.
CARCHMAN: His best friend Irwin Sherman.
SHERMAN: And he’d lean over and he says, ”Win and they call me a freak.” You know, he was scared and then he was unhappy. You can get depressed, especially when you know you are going to die young, you know it in advance. He had to live with that thought, that nobody his height ever lived past 40, that his body was giving out on him. He would just start to stare and get pensive he got a look and when he got that look I knew that, you know, everything had stopped, and he was going over in his mind probably things that he wanted that were normal, like a girlfriend, and certainly children.
CARCHMAN: Was Eddie religious? Did he ever talk about —
SHERMAN: No, no I think he would have a hard time believing in a supreme being considering the rude trick that life had played on him.
CARCHMAN: I was getting all sorts of calls and letters from people who wanted to talk about Eddie and how he touched their lives. He seemed to have almost a magical effect on them.
IRV LOSMAN: I can remember a friend of mine, Mickey Shure, and I, sat in Eddie’s lap.
CARCHMAN: Irv Losman was a kid when he met Eddie at summer camp.
LOSMAN: It was like so surreal, that we would be sitting in this giant’s lap and that this incredible booming voice would come to us. We also could not believe the stories that he would tell us. How children would turn and say ”Look dad, look mom! There’s a freak!” I couldn’t understand that. It wasn’t that I was such a great kid. I just could not understand because somehow I understood that this person was so pure, so kind. He seemed like a grown up, but he talked to us on a level that was somehow life changing.
CARCHMAN: Irv never saw Eddie again. He never forgot about him either. Eddie became part of the mythology of Irv’s family. Each year at Passover he uses the Arbus photo to tell Eddie’s story and he recites this poem he wrote a week after Eddie died.
LOSMAN:
Back in the fifties at a CT camp,
I remember sitting next to your shoes by the swimming pool,
While you stood up in the deepest end.
You told me how all your clothing was custom made,
I think of you chanting the haftorah on one Sabbath rainy night
in the gym by the foul line.
I remember when I put my hand in yours,
How it swallowed me up
Eddie the giant died last week,
Died with the curse of nowhere to hide,
Neither famous enough nor obscure enough.
Freckled Eddie the giant,
Curly-haired Eddie the giant,
Puffy-lipped Eddie the giant,
Clawed-by-stares Eddie the giant,
Gentle Eddie, the giant.
CARCHMAN: Eddie works in the circus until 1969 when he can’t get up on the platform anymore. In 1970 Diane Arbus takes a picture of Eddie in his parents’ apartment: ”A Jewish Giant At Home with his parents in the Bronx.” It will become his legacy , published in Time, Newsweek, and Life. It now sits in the Museum of Modern Art.
GRANDMA: When I saw it I was startled.
CARCHMAN: My grandma.
GRANDMA: When you live with something and you are part of it, you don’t see it as clearly as you can when you step aside or step back. And when I opened the magazine I was stepping back and it was startling, startling to me.
DAD: This was not a scene that I hadn’t seen before.
CARCHMAN: My dad.
DAD: I mean I visited that room in that apartment with regularity. You know, there’s my uncle in a certain dignified way, with his hands in his pockets looking something like a diplomat. And what he’s thinking, I am sure, is he’s feeling very sorry in some ways for himself. My aunt is probably saying to herself ”What can I do for you?” Because that would have been her comment, and, uh . . . Eddie is looking down on them and I can’t tell what he’s thinking looking at his parents.
GRANDMA: He loved it. He loved that picture.
CARCHMAN: He did?
GRANDMA: Yeah, he used to laugh at it. He’d say ”Isn’t it awful to have midget parents?” He’d say ”Why did it have to happen to me? My luck, I have to have midget parents.”
DAD: I mean they all reacted in a very different way. My uncle used to comment to me constantly, ”Look at him, look at him.” In many ways, my uncle who was a wonderful man, felt very sorry for himself. And my aunt you know, who would do anything for anybody, couldn’t really do anything more than a mother could do.
CARCHMAN: In his last years, Eddie’s in and out of the hospital. He has terrible arthritis and he can hardly move. One cane, then two canes and finally a wheelchair. His legs are too weak to support his massive frame. Soon getting out of bed becomes impossible.
DAD: The heart just can’t keep up with the weight and the stress and he died of a heart attack. And we went to the funeral and it was a very difficult time for me because at this funeral, the eulogy was given by a cousin who did not know him, and he dwelt on the tragedy . . .
BERNIE LANDER: I spoke at Eddie Carmel’s funeral.
CARCHMAN: Bernie Lander.
LANDER: I spoke with great feeling at that funeral and so people still remember that I spoke. The career of Eddie was a family tragedy, an only child, a young man of promise and then becoming a circus freak. Sad, sad, like somebody getting sick with cancer or any other such disease. It was a tragedy of a human life.
DAD: . . . I remember sitting there. I was 30 years old and said ”This is wrong.” But I did not have the strength of purpose to get up and just walk to the podium and give the eulogy, just saying ”This was wrong.” Because it was certainly unfortunate that he was born with this condition which made him freakish, but his life was not a tragedy. He was not a recluse, he did not hide in a cave. He took what God had given him and . . .
CARCHMAN: Why is it so hard to talk about?
DAD: Because I should have said this at his funeral. He did what — what he could. And everyone left that funeral thinking that this was a life — an empty tragic life, and it wasn’t.
GRANDMA: He showed signs of his greatness all the time. Under more normal circumstances he would have been a personality to reckon with. He had a contribution to make, and he wasn’t given the chance to.
CARCHMAN: I wish I had met him.
GRANDMA: He was a giant. He was a giant.