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Until recently, few of these unfortunate children lived more than a year or two. But that was long enough for unscrupulous side show operators to cash in on "creatures born under the wrong sign of the moon."

Fortunately, a remarkable surgical procedure was devised some 13 years a ago at the Children's Hospital in Philadelphia to correct hydrocephalus. In many cases, this operation -- if undertaken in time -- can restore a child to normalcy.

Eagle believes that the side show has also done something in behalf of babies. He recounted the story of Dr. Martin Couney, who made medical history with a side show on the midway of Coney Island.

It was no idle boast on the part of raucous side show barkers that Doctor Couney did, indeed, display "the smallest people on earth." They were premature babies shown in incubators of his own making.

The doctor's decision to go into show of business with his little patients grew out of his determination to cut the high death rate among "premies." As a young and struggling obstetrician in Paris, back in 1890, he had demonstrated that with proper care most of these infants could survive. But the constant attention they required exhausted him. Moreover, parents were often unable to pay for the long "incubation period" that most of the babies needed. Since his little people were objects of great public interest, Doctor Couney decided to exhibit them. Admission fees, he hoped, would provide enough money to keep his life-saving work going.

It was a daring thing to do, and it was denounced and deplored by Doctor Couney's fellow physicians. Yet they sent him their premature patients. A few weeks in a side show was, after all, better than the certain death which so many of the infants faced.

The babies were shown in crude incubators with tops and walls of glass. The public gladly paid to see the babies being fed, washed, and changed. The infants were earning their own keep and, more important, demonstrating that the hazards of prematurity could be overcome.

Doctor Couney and his mites of life toured Europe. The show was so successful there that he came to the United States to display his "stars" at Coney Island, Chicago's Century of Progress, and the New York World's Fair of 1939-40. It has been estimated that more than 7000 premature infants got a firm grasp on life in Doctor Couney's unusual venture in medicine and showmanship. Later progress in the care of "premies" owes much to the daring pioneering work of Doctor Couney.

What about the babies deformed in recent years by the drug, thalidomide? Will some of them ever appear in side shows?

That was no isolated incident like, say, the birth of a midget out of every one million babies," says Eagle. "It was a tragedy that could have happened of in any family. So, I'm sure the public will never tolerate commercialization of any of those children -- now or in the future. And right here let me say that what the doctors have done to help those babies with artificial aids is a near-miracle in my book."

Eagle speaks knowingly on many things medical. How has he come by this knowledge?

"Well," says Eagle, "I've talked with a lot of doctors over the years. In fact, some of my best customers have been doctors. They come to the side show because they're interested rather than just curious. We've been a clinic of sorts, you might say. For example, see the lady sword swallower up there on the platform? Just the other day, some doctors came to watch her act and question her about how she does it. They wanted to find out how she controls the cough reflex -- an occupational hazard of the trade. And they arranged for x-ray pictures of the whole works. Said they would write an article called 'The Sword Swallower's Syndrome' -- whatever that means."

Eagle also pointed out that doctors have been drawn to side shows to observe conditions that they might never see otherwise. "We've had some people, for instance, with rare skin disorders -- like the Elephant Skin Boy and the Blue Man. Doctors used to ask for consultations with these people and I usually went along. That's how I've picked up odds and ends of medical information."

Eagle also admitted to an early fling with an old-time medicine show. He recalled the days when it was possible to sell -- or "pitch" as he put it -- an amazing assortment of balms, herbs, tonics, salves, and elixirs that were equally good for man or beast. But those days, he sighed, are gone forever.

On this point, Eagle revealed a gap in his medical information. For the fact is that the medicine man is still active. He has merely updated his guise. Today he is a self-styled "nutritionist" -- a door-to-door salesman of "health foods" and "nutritive supplements" which, despite their more sophisticated ingredients, are worth no more than the concoctions of yesterday's medical showman.