The ordinary devices of showmen were used by Barnum on his own exaggerated scale. Huge posters outside announced the contents of the Museum, and long descriptive advertisements in the newspapers heralded new attractions. On a balcony which circled the outside of the Museum building, a band of music played all day long, and a huge poster announced, “Free Music for the Million!” Barnum took care, he confessed, to choose the worst band he could find, on the chance that the discordant notes would drive the crowd into the Museum. This appears a far-fetched method of advertising, but he assured the readers of his autobiography that it was profitable. Powerful Drummond lights, the first New York saw, shone from the top of the Museum and lighted Broadway from the Battery to Niblo’s Garden. Barnum planned in advance to dispose of the entire profit of the first year in advertising, and the profits came in so fast that he had difficulty devising enough media. Paintings of strange animals were made for Barnum in panels and attached to the entire outside surface of the Museum. The work of putting up the paintings was performed in one night without advance notice, and the next morning when New York saw its popular landmark, it looked as if it had broken out into a huge rash. The changed appearance caused people to hurry inside to see if corresponding changes had been made there. Barnum estimated that these gaudy pictures increased his profits by one hundred dollars a day, and they never fell back after the novelty had become a tradition; it may be that it was impossible to grow accustomed to Barnum’s animals, and undoubtedly they always attracted the streams of immigrants and Western visitors ever flowing into New York City.