Randy Webb, Human Art Gallery

Randy Webb sporting his Amund Dieztel chest piece. Kobel photo.

Chambers & Webb: Hoosier Tattooers

Original Research by Carmen Forquer Nyssen. 

Heeding a call to adventure, Hoosier tattooers Chambers and Webb each began their careers as ‘Human Art Galleries,’ exhibiting with carnivals and tattooing between performances. They spent their early days basking in the “oohs” and “aahs” of show-goers who gazed upon their decorated bodies, while traveling from city to city meeting a multitude of interesting characters. In fact, the two probably crossed paths with each other occasionally and finally struck up their later partnership through these experiences—the way tattooers commonly did then. Chambers and Webb’s pairing, however it came to be, was certainly in line with tradition in the tattoo trade. As with so many tattoo artists’ tales, the circumstances surrounding their association—up to it and afterwards—embodies all the drama of a sideshow barker’s spiel.


Texan Tattooed Boy

In a September 1918 Houston Post newspaper notice, Young E. Webb plead for the homecoming of his teenage son:

“Wanted-To locate my son, Randolph Webb; left home in April; aged 16.”

Although returning to sleepy Calvert, Texas, the town of his upbringing, was probably the last thing on Randy Webb’s mind, he was indeed back at his parent’s farm by January of 1920—perhaps with his tail between his legs and in serious trouble. On his runaway jaunt, Randy had made his way to Milwaukee, a thousand miles away from home, where resident tattooer Amund Dietzel  embellished his chest with a large ‘shield-flag–eagle-lady mercury’ design brandished with the date 1919.

Randy Webb tattoo backpiece. Kobel Photo, tattoo memorabilia collection of Carmen Nyssen

Despite any grumbling from parents, Dietzel’s beautiful piece of patriotic—World War I themed—artistry was Randy Webb’s gateway to a new world. At some point, he had himself covered all over in tattoos, took up tattooing, then hit the carnival trail as a sideshow exhibit. By 1929, he had landed a spot with the famous Johnny J. Jones Shows (second only to Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus) as a tattooer and ‘Human Art Gallery.’ In April of that year, he was on location at the show’s Deland, Florida winter quarters readied for the season’s route—and he wasn’t alone. Shortly beforehand he had married a 17-year-old woman named Hilda, an Indiana native and performer, who assisted him with a variety of acts throughout their several-year gig with the outfit.

With the Johnny J. Jones Show, the multi-talented Webb was also a glassblower, sideshow manager, and an illusionist, but tattooing inspired him above all. According to a notice in Variety Magazine, throughout the 1930 season, Webb enthusiastically surveyed patrons about why they wanted emblems and names embroidered on different parts of their anatomy. Webb’s inquiry, “Why get tattooed?,” no doubt elicited a range of responses, maybe deterred business at times, but it was all part of his spirited tattoo hustle.

Getting tattooed and learning the art was a huge gamechanger for the one-time country boy now traveling with a prestigious amusement company. Together Webb and wife galavanted around the United States with the Johnny J. Jones Show, living a day-by-day, yet exciting, existence. Even after Hilda and Webb separated, around mid-1932, he persisted in his chosen livelihood with fervor.


English Avenue Tattooers

Somewhere along the line, Webb had befriended Indianapolis-based tattooer Fred “Smokey” Clark. The two of them launched an ambitious combination tattoo shop/tattoo supply/photography studio in Clark’s 1119 English Avenue residence—in the middle of the hard-hitting Depression no less. A sideshow billing places Webb at 1119 English Avenue in 1933, while a building permit for a garage add-on, obtained by Clark’s live-in mother, Lizzie, suggests preparations for a work space could have commenced as early as 1931. Webb and Clark’s designated business nook was no slight affair. As evidenced in photos, the walls of the tattooing area were decked with tattoo flash and the photography set-up was fully professional, furnished with posh drapery, props, and a whimsical backdrop.

Souvenir Tattoo Photos

More than a bonus moneymaker for Webb and Clark, the photography aspect of their English Avenue operation supplied tattooers with alluring testaments of the art to display in their tattoo shops—in the short-run promoting the craft and in the long-run preserving its history for future generations. In their studio, they produced and sold an assortment of collectible photos and photo postcards documenting the era’s famous tattooed attractions and other tattooed characters. Their stock of original and staple images included prominent tattooed lady and tattoo artist, Betty Broadbent.

Among the other high-quality original photos Webb and Clark offered, was a c. 1930s series of tattooed attraction Lady Viola (born Ethel Martin). One familiar image depicts her next to Clark in front of his ornate, handmade Amund Dietzel tattoo trunk, staged as if he’s adding a new design to her impressive body suit done by New York City tattoo artist, Frank Graf. Given the numerous carnivals and circuses that passed through Indiana, Webb and Clark most likely shot the images of Lady Viola and Betty Broadbent during the ladies’ sawdust trail stopovers.

Fred Clark aka Homer Chambers tattooing Lady Viola. Kobel photo.

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Webb and Clark’s photographs were typically numbered on the back, indicating they sold them via mail order catalog. Though surviving examples of photos, stamped “Webb and Clark, Tattoo Artists,” prove their business was relevant and well-patronized in its time, its existence is nearly forgotten today. Regardless of their faded history, their historically significant images live on through their own photo artifacts as well as copied versions.

Webb and Clark Tattoo Artists

Verso of a photo postcard. Collection of Rich Hardy.

A good number of Bernard L. Kobel’s 5×7  “Highly Tattooed Men and Women” mail order prints—not his original work, but made by photographing other photographer and photo suppliers’ images—came from Webb and Clark’s repertoire. Modern-day collectors more readily associate the images with Kobel, because his prints were so widely circulated for decades. Kobel, an Indiana native, started selling his borrowed tattoo images from his Frankfort residence, near Indianapolis, in the mid-1940s. His business grew into the early 1970s.

Kobel Residence Photo Studio, Frankfort Indiana

Photo postcard of Kobel’s Residence Photo Studio, operated by Bernard and his parents. Collection of Carmen Nyssen

Note the matching backdrops in the various poses of Betty Broadbent (above) and Lady Viola (below).

Lady Viola, tattooed attraction

Lady Viola. Kobel photos. Collection of Carmen Nyssen. 

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The blanket Lady Viola is laying on, and the backdrop, is also seen in the photo of Betty Broadbent below.

Lady Viola, tattooed woman

Lady Viola, tattooed attraction. Kobel photo. Collection of Carmen Nyssen


Betty Broadbent. Kobel photo. Collection of Carmen Nyssen.


Showman Tattooers

Webb and Clark’s multi-faceted business, though a valuable income source during the 1930s Depression Era, wasn’t enough to offset the faltering economy. While tending to their lofty endeavor, they continued in their usual line of work. Clark was a printer by trade. Webb worked as a cook in the carnival off-season (once at the Hoosier Athletic Club) and he trouped with shows the rest of the year. In the midst of the Depression, which didn’t damper carnival and fair business completely, Webb secured several coveted gigs. In 1933, he alighted the Chicago World’s Fair midway as a ‘Human Art Gallery’ on the Duke Mills Freak Show—with the celebrated Harry Lewiston as barker first, then Fred “Doc” Campbell.

Duke Mills-Living Wonders Congress

“Randy Webb “The Human Art Gallery.” Tattooed Man and Tattoo Artist. Perm. Addr. 1119 English Ave. Indianapls, Ind.”

Randy Webb “The Human Art Gallery.” Billboard Magazine, Jul. 29, 1933. pg. 54

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When Webb married a local divorcèe named Delena, in the late 1930s, he brought her along on the show circuit. In 1939, they joined the Anderson-Strader shows and performed as magician/illusionists.

There’s evidence Clark trouped as a tattooed man/tattoo artist at this time too. A 1933 photo in Lyle Tuttle’s 1986 Tattoo Historian (pg. 39) depicts Clark, Webb, and another tattooed man, wearing showman’s trunks. Additionally, a December 9, 1933 Billboard Magazine notice describes Clark visiting show grounds at Peru, Indiana (the circus capital of the world) to “renew” acquaintances from past days with the B.E. Wallace Shows and other venues. The further intrigue of this last notice is that it reveals Clark’s curious show name, “George Calutin.”


Homer Chambers Tattooer

Clark’s pseudonym itself isn’t surprising; tattooers and performers often used monikers and show names. The real mystery lies in its origins. A man by the same name, a factory worker, lived nearby in Indianapolis, yet how the two were affiliated is unknown. Even stranger is that the name “George Calutin” was a double (temporary) alias. Webb and Clark’s business stamp might have read differently otherwise.

Clark was actually born Homer W. Chambers, in Indianapolis, to John G. Chambers and Elizabeth “Lizzie” Howell. Starting in the 1920s, and up until the 1940s when he permanently adopted his new name, he was listed variously under both “Fred S. Clark” and “Homer W. Chambers” in city directories.

Tattooing was not the young Homer Chambers’ first and only livelihood either. As noted in city directories, early on, he worked as a railroad telegraph operator and mail handler and an electrician. Then, during the latter half of World War I, in 1919, he served in the Army. Still, it was sometime prior to all these undertakings that he broke into tattooing.

Fred Clark’s tattoo business card gives his start in the trade as 1911.

Fred Clark's Tattoo Business Card

Fred Clark’s tattoo business card gives his start in the trade as 1911. Collection of Rich Hardy.

By the end of 1919, upon his discharge from the military, Muncie, Indiana’s W. A. Law Amusement Company hired him as tattooer “Fred S. Clark,” and likely as a tattooed attraction—boasting stunning body decorations by none other than Amund Dietzel. Though the timeline is vague, the 1986 Tattoo Historian (pg. 9) provides evidence that “Fred S. Clark” was a tattooer and fully covered in Dietzel’s artistry by 1915. He and Dietzel had crossed paths frequently in their earliest travels and continued to do so. At the start of World War I, in 1917, Dietzel set up at Earl W. McClure’s 511 Massachusetts Avenue shooting gallery in Indianapolis awhile and as noted in the Tattoo Archive’s Historical Tattoo Business Cards booklet (pg 9) Clark also tattooed at this address; they possibly tattooed there together. As documented in the 1920 census, after the war, Clark trekked to Milwaukee and worked there a spell, possibly with Dietzel who made the city his forever home.

Fred "Smokey" Clark tattooed by Amund Dietzel.

Fred “Smokey” Clark tattooed by Amund Dietzel. Collection of Carmen Nyssen

After the last move, Clark settled down (for the most part) in his hometown, and took up the sideline that later rounded out his business with Webb. By the end of 1921, he was running a tattoo shop-photography studio at 350 West Washington Street, in a building shared with photographer Thomas T. McWhirter (a mentor?) and physician George A. Willeford. As late as 1926, he remained here etching the skins of customers and making photographs of tattooed people, including a series of his own highly decorated body, sold three for 25 cents. In addition to learning photography in this period, the go-getting Clark became a printer’s apprentice, acquiring skills that both afforded him a stable day job with E.C. Atkins & Co. and benefited his tattoo-photo business.

Locale of Fred Clark’s 350 W. Washington tattoo shop, same building as George A. Willeford (sign above truck). Photo c. 1915.

Fred Clark's Tattoo Shop, 350 W. Washington, Indianapolis, IN

Fred Clark’s Tattoo Shop locale, 350 W. Washington, Indianapolis, IN. Courtesy of The Indiana Album


Tattoo Friend or Foe?

With his new skill set, Clark very likely printed his own tattoo supply catalogs and related ephemera. Around 1937, after his mother died, he started a printing press at the English Avenue residence, fittingly dubbed “The English Press.”

1937 Nov 27 Billboard Magazine pg. 99: “Fun At The Party,” 16-Page book. Tricks, jokes, stunts, funny readings, etc., 3cents. English Press, 1119 English, Indianapolis, Ind.”

Whether or not Webb helped with this task, he at least kept busy with the tattoo enterprise he and Clark built. Operational needs and the broken economy is likely what prompted Webb and his wife Delena, who usually kept a separate residence, to move in with Clark c.1939-1940. The arrangement apparently worked well; all three lived under the same roof for several years. In 1942, when Webb and Clark registered for the World War II draft, they even listed each other as emergency contacts.

Fred Clark and Randy Webb, business partners and friends.

It was in the middle of the war-time tattoo business boom, however, that their relationship took a turn. Webb’s World War II Draft Registration card, dated February of 1942, notes that he was attending “Hoosier Trades School,” a new facility that specialized in a range of machinist skills. It’s not clear if this development signified an expansion in Webb and Clark’s business offerings (i.e. building tattoo machines), or an altogether new livelihood for Webb. More changes were coming though.

By 1943, the city directory lists Clark at 24 ½ South Illinois, a location previously occupied by tattooers Milton Sandefur and Charles Hamilton. Webb along with Delena, now a tattooer herself, had opened their own tattoo shop at 17 ½ West Ohio, near busy Monument Circle. A 1943 Indianapolis Star article touted their success tattooing female Army recruits—WAVES and WAACS—stationed at the numerous Army Air Force bases that sprang up in Indianapolis during the war. At this time, Webb and Clark were still living together, but their paths had diverged, and trouble was on the horizon.


Drama Among Tattooers

Throughout the history of tattooing, partnerships have dissolved over everything from clashing personalities and theft to poor craftmanship. The expiration of Webb and Clark’s longstanding friendship and business dealings was no less dramatic.

Webb disappears from Indianapolis records after 1943, the same year he and Clark started drifting apart. The reason he left the city is unknown, but Delena, his wife, undoubtedly factored in. By 1949, Webb was in Danville, Illinois without her, working as a cook and residing in the Milner Hotel. She evidently stayed in Indianapolis with other intentions. Just one year prior, on November 10, 1948, she married Webb’s ex-best friend and business partner, Fred Clark. Whether the two were an item before or after Webb left town is a question that remains unanswered for now.

Fred Clark and Randy Webb, business partners and friends no more.

Fred Clark and Randy Webb, tattoo business partners and friends.

Fred Clark and Randy Webb, tattoo business partners and friends no more. Collection of Carmen Nyssen

No matter the circumstances, Clark and Delena, lived out the rest of their lives together, while Webb spiraled into a world of booze-induced suffering. Although Webb’s marriage might have deteriorated in the first place because of his excessive drinking, it’s just as feasible that losing his wife to a long-time friend is what drove him to drink. By the time he set foot in Chicago anyway, he was a severe alcoholic barely eking by.

By 1953, Webb was in the Windy City tattooing alongside old friend Mickey Kellet in the Sportland Arcade at 638 South State Street. Kellet was another mid-west tattooer who started in the trade in Milwaukee c. 1919-1920. His drinking was on par with Webb’s or worse; a perfect partnership for them but not the arcade owner. The two often showed up to their shift drunk, if at all. According to Samuel Steward aka Phil Sparrow’s account in his books Secret Historian and Bad Boys and Tough Tattoos, the arcade owner finally took Kellet’s spot away and gave it to him instead. Webb instantly disliked Sparrow for this perceived slight and sabotaged his tattoo equipment.

Mickey Kellet tattooing c. 1937 in Chicago. Note the Dietzel tattoo trunk.

Mickey Kellet tattooing c. 1937 Chicago.

Mickey Kellet tattooing c. 1937 Chicago. Courtesy of Youtube, British Pathe video

Long gone was Webb’s professionalism, and his health. Sparrow described his condition as such:

“…a [toothless] little old man with yellow-brown hair…Not only did his chin nearly meet his nose…but he had one of the worst complexions imaginable…covered with rum-blossoms—big scarlet and purple pustules which he was fond of squeezing and popping out about a quarter-teaspoon full of pus and yellow matter. Beyond a doubt he was the nastiest looking person I had yet to see on the street, and [in time he would prove] the slyest and craftiest back-stabber of them all.”

Overpowered by ‘the drink,’ Webb had become less a tattoo artist than a con-artist, honed in on making a quick buck for his next fix. His slack artistry, in fact, is how he lost his teeth. He had tattooed a five-legged panther on a man’s arm and the unhappy patron punched him in the face.

From runaway Texan boy to tattooed marvel to tattoo artist to photographer, Webb had lived a colorful life filled with friends and bold ventures. Sadly, he died on January 28, 1958, destitute and alone, from a coronary thrombosis.


Rich History of Tattooing

With all its spectacle, drama, and heartache, the saga of multi-talented tattooers Homer Chambers (aka Fred S. Clark) and Randy Webb borders on the incredible, worthy of its own sideshow broadside. Yet the ups-and-downs of their intersecting worlds merely stands as a microcosm of tattooing as a whole. The rich history of tattooing is made up of a medley of such fascinating characters, their opportune encounters, exciting escapades, and fickle follies.