How Conspiracy Circus is Keeping Colorado Sideshow Alive

At Conspiracy Circus, the show doesn’t begin with a curtain rising, but with a secret door swinging open behind the counter of the Learned Lemur, an oddities shop filled with antiquities and taxidermy in an original Colfax mansion. Guests slip through the hidden passage and climb a narrow staircase, a secret, immersively designed detour that opens upstairs to a midway that hums with carnival games run by costumed performers, leading into the Carriage House. 

Once a stable for ponies, the upstairs space now hosts “the lunatics” who perform in the venue’s monthly sideshow, Conspiracy Circus, an eccentric gathering of sword swallowers, strongmen, clowns and fire-eaters. Inside, a concession stand sells cotton candy, popcorn and non-alcoholic drinks, while those craving a stronger drink duck around the corner to Bruz Off Fax. 

White folding chairs face a small stage framed by golden streamer curtains and a backdrop painted with UFOs as illustrated placards of the evening’s stars, like “Babyface Reid and His Heart of Steel,” line the walls. Eclectic and intimate, the audience sits only feet from the evening’s action.

“This is our first ever Sunday night show,” emcee Reid Wilson, better known as Babyface Reid, announced with a grin as he strolled into the spotlight to kick off its September showcase. “If you don’t leave with some trauma or a new kink, we’ve let you down.”

The crowd inside laughed nervously, unsure whether the warning was a joke or a promise. Within minutes, the answer was clear. A fire-breathing striptease set the stage ablaze, followed by Jewlez the Clown’s uproarious janitor routine. Soon after, a performer in a Harley Quinn costume hammered spikes into their nose in a bit dubbed “double penetration,” and another artist shot a bow and arrow using only their feet. 

By the time Wilson reclined on a bed of nails and braced for a cinder block to be smashed across his chest, the audience was fully indoctrinated into the strange, wild world of Conspiracy Circus, Colorado’s longest-running dedicated sideshow.

“As far as performances, it’s always varied and totally depends on what new skills our performers have been workshopping,” Wilson says. “We’ve done over forty shows, and even if you had come to all of them, you would have never seen the same act twice.”

That constant churn of fresh acts has carried Conspiracy Circus from its humble beginnings to the milestone it’s about to hit. On October 11, the troupe will mark its four-year anniversary, proof that a show once cobbled together in just three weeks has grown into a cornerstone of Denver’s underground performance scene that’s actively revitalizing a dying art form.

Emerging in the 19th century as a companion to circuses and fairs, sideshows offered audiences a glimpse of the unusual: human curiosities, fire-eaters and pain-proof acts. By the mid-20th century, sideshows had faded from mainstream entertainment, dismissed as exploitative or outdated. Today, only a handful of venues dedicated to sideshows remain in the United States.

“It’s important to save parts of our history that people find unsavory,” says John “Gio” Alberico, owner of The Learned Lemur and ringmaster of Conspiracy Circus. “Just because you think it’s weird doesn’t mean it’s not a part of our history, and we should remember it. Circus sideshows were one of those weird things that were dying.”

Alberico’s fascination with the offbeat stretches back to his childhood, when he worked in his family’s antique shop on South Broadway, sifting through relics that most people would have ignored. After college, he returned to Denver in 2010 and picked up where his family left off, consulting on antiques and collecting the oddities that caught his eye. 

Six years later, he opened the Learned Lemur in Aurora, a shop that reflected his taste for the unusual. When the business moved to East Colfax in 2021, Alberico saw an opportunity to expand on that vision.

“Ever since finding that first brick and mortar, it was a goal of mine to also find a space that allowed me to do performance as well,” Alberico says. “It’s always been a goal of mine to find a place where we can do this forever. When we moved in here in August 2021, I was just talking in general to anyone who came into the store and sharing my dream to do a sideshow in the space.”

Not long after, fate delivered Wilson through the Learned Lemur’s front door. A strongman and emcee who had cut his teeth in the Philadelphia scene, Wilson had just landed in Denver after the pandemic upended his work as both a performer and mental health speaker. 

“An old acquaintance told me, ‘There’s this oddity shop up the road that wants to run a sideshow; you should go introduce yourself,’” Wilson recalls. “So I walked in the next day, met Gio, and he asked me how long I’d need to get a cast together. I said three weeks.”

Three weeks later, the Carriage House was alive with its first lineup of sideshow and burlesque performers. The setup was bare-bones: Goodwill curtains hung as a backdrop, and a few folding chairs were crammed into the small room, but the Carriage House was packed and buzzing. 

“It was insane,” Alberico recalls. “In a little less than three weeks, we got a sideshow together, and since then, we’ve sold out every show to date.”

Bex Strega, Alberico’s partner and co-owner of Learned Lemur, has run the front of house from the beginning. One of the things she remembers from that show was when Wilson “traumatized” her mother by having her staple money to his body during the performance.

“One of our mottos is: make your mom do cool shit,” she says. “She came to our first show, and Reid just handed her money and was like, ‘We need you on stage.’ She had no idea what she was getting into.”

Though the aesthetic is kitschy and irreverent, Conspiracy Circus runs on intentionality. Each January, the team issues an open casting call on Instagram, reviewing audition videos and booking an entire year of lineups. While most performers hail from Colorado, out-of-town acts are invited once or twice a year to keep the program fresh.

“When we started, the people we could depend on to create new acts were getting four or five shows a year,” Alberico says. “Now, with so many people developing new acts, our regulars only get two or three. We’ve actually seen this uptick in interest where people are going to learn these new skills, and this real sideshow community has started.”

Over the years, the Carriage House itself has evolved alongside the show. Each winter, the troupe takes two months off in January and February and funnels earnings (roughly $1,000) back into the space. 

“The majority of our budget goes to performers,” Alberico explained. “But every year we add something new. This year it was the carnival games. Last year, it was the mural. It’s always little steps, but it adds up.”

The early shows leaned heavily on burlesque to draw crowds, but as Conspiracy Circus has built a loyal following, sideshow has taken center stage. “Burlesque has its roots in circus, so we’ll always include a touch of it,” Alberico said. “But now, people come for the sideshow. They know they’re going to see something wild they won’t find anywhere else.”

Audiences have grown with them, too. Some regulars drive from Pueblo or Fort Collins, and others even make the trip from Minnesota. “We’ve had people come back again and again, but every show still feels fresh,” Strega said. “At most, half the crowd are returners and the rest are first-timers.”

That steady word of mouth has fueled their success more than any advertising campaign. Posters taped in shop windows, Instagram posts and a monthly newsletter have proven enough to keep the Carriage House sold out. 

“I’m an old punk,” Alberico admitted. “I believe in posters and flyers. It works.”

Still, the venue’s size is a constant constraint. “Right now, we seat about forty plus ten standing,” Alberico said. “Next year, we’re considering getting some church pews, and with that, we’ll probably be able to do 55 to sixty. We didn’t ever expect it, but we’ve kind of outgrown this venue.” 

“We’re looking into doing larger, quarterly shows off-site,” Wilson adds. “We’re thinking about talking to Bluebird, Mission Ballroom and the Fillmore; it would be ambitious but not out of the realm of possibility.”

Even if the show expands, the organizers say the spirit of Conspiracy Circus will never change. “We put so much heart into this,” Strega said. “People can see it, and that’s why they keep coming back. It’s not just about the crazy acts — they understand that we genuinely love being an escape for people during these hard times.” 

As Conspiracy Circus approaches its 44th show, Alberico says the magic is still fresh. Even after four years, he and his team savor each performance as if it were the first.

“My favorite memory is made after every show,” he says. “We’re like a traditional circus in that we break down completely and set up everything for every show, so as we’re driving home at 1 a.m., exhausted, and I think every time, ‘That was my favorite show.’ And I mean it every time. After all these years, I still can’t wait for the next one.”

Conspiracy Circus, Saturday, October 11, at the Learned Lemur, 2220 East Colfax Avenue. Tickets are $35 to $40. Learn more at www.learnedlemur.com/events.