In Search of Eden – Chapter 9. The Memoir of a Zoo Career

The Toledo Zoo, America’s most complete zoo

The words Toledo Museum of Science are etched into the facade above the entrance to the massive brick and stone building at the Toledo Zoo. The museum was built by the Works Progress Administration (WPA) between 1934 and 1937, and it was one of the factors that led me to Toledo. Museums, as I had come to appreciate in Sioux Falls, can be a powerful tool in the conservation message of zoos, especially when live animal exhibits are interspersed with the static displays. In the Diversity of Life section of the Toledo museum, for example, live animals ranged from naked mole rats to fruit bats to koalas, while in the main hall, we regularly developed temporary displays of insects, robotic dinosaurs and other subjects. It was because of this unique museum, along with the aquarium and greenhouses, that Toledo called itself “America’s most complete zoo”.

One of my first projects as the zoo’s deputy director was the $3 million Kingdom of the Apes that opened in 1993. Toledo had an impressive collection of great apes that included chimpanzees, orangutans, and two families of gorillas. They lived in a symmetrical, rectangular, 1970’s era facility with each of the four groups housed in a section that consisted of off-exhibit holding cages, a small, indoor, glass-fronted dayroom, and a slightly larger open-air outdoor space with a concrete floor. No animals had access to grass. The renovation would improve the holding cages; add an 18,000 square foot outdoor gorilla meadow; and an indoor, three-story dayroom.  The old outdoor spaces would have a tall, cage-structure added to increase the vertical space, and grass would be planted to replace the concrete floor. It was a remarkable transformation, both visually and from the standpoint of the animals’ quality of life.

Another memorable project for which quality of life for the animals would be key was the Arctic Encounter, my last project in Toledo. The goal of this exhibit, according to my notes, was “to set a new standard in the captive management of Polar Bears and other Arctic animals”. We also decided that the overall interpretive message was to be that “the exhibit is designed for the animals”.

The planning process was extensive, beginning in December 1996 and continuing until construction began in early 1998, and included visits to similar facilities at zoos in Indianapolis, North Carolina, and San Diego. I was also fortunate to visit Churchill, Manitoba in July 1997, where I observed polar bears, Arctic fox, beluga whales, ptarmigan, yellow legs, and swarms of mosquitos.

After all the research, a plan began to develop. We had concerns over stereotypic animal behavior. We talked about the sizes of both pool and land space. We debated fences, water quality, and animal holding areas. We knew we wanted the bears and the seals visually linked. And we knew we had to stick to our original purpose of promoting the well-being of the animals while providing a quality viewing experience for our guests and, by the time it opened in early 2000, I believe we achieved that. The polar bears had nearly four thousand square feet of quality land space and a 90,000 gallon chilled, salt-water pool. They had an air conditioned cave they could retreat to in hot weather and a “blow-hole” area that had small holes in the floor of their exhibit allowing them to smell the seals from next door that swam underneath. 

The First 100 Years

The Toledo Zoo was founded in July 1900 with an unlikely first animal – a woodchuck. That meant the year 2000 was the zoo’s Centennial. A look back at the history of the zoo for our Centennial was both fascinating and sobering. Many of the conditions for the animals in those early years were appalling. Cages were small and animals were treated as objects of amusement. As zoos became more popular, significant buildings were built. In the 1920’s, for example, the Toledo carnivore and elephant buildings were constructed. But it was the 1930’s Works Progress Administration (WPA) era really put the Toledo Zoo on the map. It was one of the most remarkable transformations of any zoo in the country, and it was the result of good timing, good planning, and good luck.

After the stock market crash of 1929 and the massive unemployment that followed, the federal government was offering relief in the form of monetary support to projects that could put people back to work. The Toledo Zoo, as it happened, had a building plan that was already underway, or shovel-ready in modern parlance. Once the federal funds began to flow into the zoo, the projects took off. The list was impressive and many of the facilities are still in use today. 

Carnivore Cafe

The reptile house, the bird house, the museum, the amphitheater, and the aquarium all had special architecture, including priceless sculptures. It would have been impossible to think of moving the zoo to open spaces outside of town as other zoos were doing. Instead, the zoo would remain where it was and the buildings would be renovated to modern standards.  The bird house, for example, was gutted and reopened in January 1998 as an award winning facility that was still suitable for its original purpose as a bird house. If buildings could not be renovated for the animals, they were repurposed. The old carnivore building (or lion house) became the Carnivore Café in 1993 and the old elephant building was turned into a meeting and rental facility known as the Lodge.

Training, Enrichment, and Animal Welfare

It was during my time in Toledo that we began to focus on a program of animal training, enrichment, and welfare. Zoo managers around the word were taking an interest in something we had long-known but done little about – the psychological well-being of our animals.

When zoos began to take animals out of cages twenty years earlier and place them in naturalistic areas, the illusion was for the benefit of the public, not necessarily the animals. In fact, if we looked at some of these large, glass-topped jungle-type exhibits with all of the plants stripped out, the space for the animals was appallingly small. At Toledo, we tried to rectify that with facilities like the Arctic Encounter, but how do you replicate hundreds of square miles of Arctic tundra? One way is to focus on other ways of enriching the lives of the animals. At the same time we wanted to encourage the animals to submit to certain activities voluntarily by training them to do so. To accomplish that, we turned to marine mammal trainers who had been using positive reinforcement techniques for decades. 

The Toledo Zoo began its training and enrichment program in the early 1990’s with the development of the Kingdom of the Apes. We wanted to train the animals to come and go on cue and we were hopeful that they might voluntarily submit to certain routine medical procedures. We hired a team of consultants to come in and work with our zookeepers, and they soon had gorillas trained to lean against the front of the cage, submitting to injections in exchange for a food reward, and they were fanning out into other areas of the zoo. Everything from rhinos to crocodiles, it seemed, could be trained at some level. The program was so successful and transformative, the zoo decided to hire a full-time animal behavior coordinator in 1999.

Today, animal training, animal enrichment, and animal welfare are stated requirements in accreditation standards for zoos worldwide. But what does animal welfare mean? Can we provide an enriched and humane captive environment for all non-human animals? Or do we need to devise a different ethical standard for some animals, standards that may mean we should not keep them in captivity at all? I wish I knew all the answers.

In Search of Eden – Chapter 8. The Memoir of a Zoo Career

 The Great Plains Zoo and Delbridge Museum of Natural History

When I arrived as the new executive director at the Great Plains Zoo in the spring of 1988, the first animal I encountered was the most impressive bull elephant I had ever seen. He had long curved tusks, his ears were fanned out in alarm, and his trunk reached out to smell whatever came his way. He was almost life-like -- almost. Unfortunately, this elephant was a mounted specimen in the zoo’s Delbridge Museum of Natural History, a facet of the zoo that I initially found distasteful. The museum had over a hundred animals that had been shot by a local big game hunter and placed in his hardware store in the 1960’s and 70’s. Upon the hunter's death, the collection was purchased by philanthropist, C. J. Delbridge and donated to the citizens of Sioux Falls on the condition that a museum be built to house them. The City decided to build the museum at the zoo. Fortunately, the specimens had been mounted by some of the best taxidermists in the nation, and were in lifelike poses of museum quality.

Delbridge Museum of Natural History

Managing the museum was the most memorable aspect of my time in Sioux Falls. When I arrive there, the specimens were randomly arranged as individual artifacts in a large, open indoor space. There was great potential to turn it into an educational facility if we could place them in naturalistic, diorama groupings. I enlisted the aid of a local exhibit specialist and, we traveled to Los Angeles in October of 1990 to consult with the Los Angeles Museum of Natural History. There we learned how to make molds out of silicon, latex, and plaster. We found out where to purchase artificial rocks and plants and we observed the latest advances in animatronic exhibits and robotics. The first exhibit we developed in our own museum was an African waterhole, complete with artificial water, simulated animal footprints, and, of course, our own mounted animals. In the process of developing dioramas, my research uncovered one of the most fascinating characters I have ever come across.

Carl Akeley

 

Carl Akeley had been part of a zoological collecting expedition to British Somaliland (Somalia) in 1896 for the Field Museum in Chicago. It was there that he became somewhat of a legend in Africa when he killed a leopard – with his bare hands! According to his account, he was walking through the bush when “I wheeled to face the leopard in midair. The rifle was knocked flying and in its place was eighty pounds of frantic cat. Her intention was to sink her teeth into my throat and, with this grip and with her forepaws, to hang on to me while with her hind claws she dug out my abdomen; for this pleasant practice is the way of leopards”.

Fortunately for Akeley, she missed his throat and struck him high in the chest, catching his upper arm in her mouth. He managed to grab her by the throat, stuff the other hand in her mouth, and fall on top of her. After an epic struggle, Akeley succeeded in strangling the leopard.

Akeley’s real claim to fame, however, was in the world of taxidermy. His museum dioramas (which can still be seen today) were astonishingly realistic. When he entered the profession and observed the techniques of the time, he saw a better way to mount animals than those commonly in use at the time. He was put off by the “upholsterer’s” method in which a skin was sewn up, like a pillow, and stuffed with straw or excelsior until it would hold no more, then “artistically” pulled in with thread here and there to create contour. 

His method was to take extensive measurements of the animal, often making plaster casts of the animal’s face and other parts of the body. Akeley then used modeling clay to sculpt the anatomically perfect, skinless body of the animal. The model was covered with plaster to make a two-sided, removable mold which was used as a cast for the paper mâche mannequin. Akeley would stretch the skin over the mannequin, working wrinkles and veins into the skin. When the process was completed, he would touch up the skin with paint and brush it. Akeley’s animal mounts were, and still are, uncannily lifelike. His method, with only slight variations (the use of fiberglass instead of paper mâche) is still in use today.

Akeley’s artistic eye also extended to the rest of the diorama. He photographed scenes in nature and gathered samples of bushes, plants, and other natural materials. He used these back in the studio, where he made plaster casts and reproduced some of the artifacts in wax.

Museums and Zoos

 

One of Akeley’s pioneering achievements is still a prominent exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History in the heart of New York City. At the center of the Akeley Hall of African Mammals is a freestanding group of eight elephants surrounded by twenty eight habitat dioramas. One of these dioramas depicts a family group of mountain gorillas in a scene that Akeley so meticulously created that a member of the museum’s exhibits department was able to find the location 90 years later, in 2011. Akeley had visited the Virunga Mountains of central Africa in 1921, collecting animals and plants while taking photographs and painting background studies. Though construction of the hall was completed in 1936, the dioramas would gradually open between the mid-1920s and early 1940s. Sixty years later in 1999 and thirty minutes up the highway, the Wildlife Conservation Society opened its own version of a “hall of African Mammals”. The Bronx Zoo’s six and a half acre Congo Gorilla Forest also seeks to transport visitors to the heart of Africa. The zoo uses live animals and takes visitors on a simulated Congo wildlife safari beneath a canopy of leaves, through sprays of mist, and up to treetop lookouts.

American Museum of Natural History

 The gorilla diorama at the museum is beautiful, and carefully crafted, like a piece of exquisite artwork, but it is static and never changes. The zoo gorilla exhibit is also carefully crafted but it is dynamic and constantly changing. The museum viewers stand in hushed reverence while zoogoers are raucous, like the jungle.  And like the two sides of the same coin, both museums and zoos have similar purposes – to communicate a message to a variety of audiences. The Bronx Zoo’s tagline is “connecting people to wild nature” while the American Museum of Natural History seeks to “discover, interpret, and disseminate … knowledge about … the natural world”. In short, they are both committed to education.

Bronx Zoo

It took some time, but eventually I came to appreciate the educational value of our museum in Sioux Falls. We had a number of rare animals that our local citizens would otherwise never have an opportunity to see. It is difficult to appreciate the height of a giraffe or the mass of an elephant until you are directly underneath one. The collection even had a Giant Panda. It was not part of the original “hunted” collection, but had been donated later. If we could link the zoo collection with the museum collection there was, I felt, an opportunity to provide a uniquely complete animal experience. This is one of the reasons that, when the Toledo Zoo came calling with a job opportunity, I had to take it. They also had a museum, although one with no mounted animals, and on August 8^th, 1991 I departed Sioux Falls for the next chapter of my life in Toledo, Ohio.

In Search of Eden – Chapter 7

The Lowry Park Zoo

When we announced the rebirth of Tampa's Lowry Park Zoo in 1984, we heard from plenty of nay-sayers. They questioned the need for another zoo when we already had Busch Gardens. They scoffed at the idea of paying admission to a city zoo that had always been free. And they really took exception to the multi-million dollar price tag that was attached to the venture – a price that seemed to be escalating. But as the plans were unveiled, minds began to change. Mayor Bob Martinez had a vision that was shared by the Lowry Park Zoo Association, a group that was led by Lowry family member Sally Lowry Baldwin. Momentum was building. We went from one of our first donations of $207 from the Zonta Boys and Girls Club in June of 1984 to regular six figure donations. We raised millions of dollars in a few short years. 

The mid-1980’s was a time of dramatic change in a number of zoos around the nation. In February of 1984, for example, Parade Magazine named the Atlanta Zoo one of the ten worst zoos in the nation. After a subsequent investigation, the Zoo lost its accreditation. In response to the public uproar, Mayor Andrew Young assembled an emergency crisis team, appointed a new director, and privatized the zoo. The rebounding institution emerged with a fresh new name – Zoo Atlanta – and, thanks to an impressive capital campaign and an ambitious renovation plan, the Zoo was in redevelopment mode by 1986.

The Toledo Zoo went through a similar crisis in the early 1980’s that also resulted in privatization and a renaissance. One of the more dramatic results was the opening in 1986 of a 360,000 gallon aquarium with underwater viewing of hippopotamus. The HippoQuarium would be the only exhibit of its kind in the world for years to come.

The City of Indianapolis closed its old zoo and, like Toronto moved its zoo to a new site. But unlike Toronto, the new site was in the heart of downtown. They broke ground in the fall of 1985 and the new $64 million Indianapolis Zoo opened in June 1988.

The zoo revitalization trend that had begun in the 1970’s continued into the 1980’s with dramatic results. Animals, it seems were big business and were attracting donors in droves. In a June 8, 1987 article in the Tampa Tribune, Michael Dunn explored this topic saying that “America’s zoos are abandoning conventional concrete jungles to explore new – and costly – ideas in how to keep and display animals”. Dunn notes specific improvements at some zoos, like the cross country ski trails through the Minnesota Zoo, the “ten types of bioclimatic zones” at the San Diego Zoo, and the expansive, 65 acre Serengeti Plain at Tampa’s Busch Gardens, as zoos begin to consider “not only physical but the psychological needs of animals”.

A Temporary Zoo

Lowry Park, at that time, consisted of picnic pavilions, an outdoor amphitheater, and an amusement park with rides. The zoo was almost an afterthought.  It was a place of live oaks, palm trees, and big-leafed philodendrons; sandy soil, concrete pathways, and box-like chain-link pens. It was so unlike its cross-town rival at Busch Gardens as to be almost laughable – if it wasn’t so sad. The cages were mostly chain-link boxes of various sizes. Visitors were held away from the animals with another chain-link fence making for a stark, sterile environment. Otters and alligators lived in pits that were six feet deep and with the sides painted blue to simulate water. It was a free zoo, which is probably why it was necessary to post crude, wooden signs on most cages that warned: City Code: cruelty to or harassment of animals is prohibited & subject to imprisonment & fine.

 Since Lowry Park’s plan was to build a new zoo on the site of the old one, the animals needed to be relocated. In March of 1985, the zoo was closed to the public and the relocation process began. The plan was to build a temporary site at the North end of the property. One of the advantages of having animals in such primitive conditions was that their new temporary facilities could hardly be worse and, in some cases, the temporary cages were actually better.

We installed concrete slabs, sidewalks, and other temporary infrastructure. After shifting the animals into holding areas, we cut the cages from their floors, picked them up with a giant crane, swung them to the new location, and welded them to their floor in the new location. Animals were transferred into new cages out of the way of construction.

In the summer of 1985 we tranquilized the 2 chimps, Herman and Gitta, and moved them to their temporary cage using a crude stretcher made of a section of chain-link fencing strung between two metal poles. Their new space was a big improvement over the old cage – a 40 x 60 block building with some holding cages inside and an exhibit space attached to the outside of one end. The old exhibit was about 15 feet by 20 feet and it had a double layer of chain-link attached inside and outside of the pipe frame of the structure, making is nearly impossible to see the animals. The new cage, though only temporary, was more spacious and it was open on all sides instead of being backed-up to a building. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it was a slight improvement and, in a few years, things would get even better.

Herman Walks on Grass

By late 1985, all of the cages had been moved and all of the animals transferred. It was time for the serious construction to begin. Cavernous holes were dug, massive footings were poured, and the outline of a new zoo began to take shape. The first phase would be built around three themes. We would have an Asian Domain, a World of Primates, and a walk-through aviary. The public areas would consist of new ticketing, entry, and offices; as well as an impressive central plaza.

For nearly three years, workers poured concrete, sculpted artificial rocks, and installed caging. By the end of 1987, we were planting grass, testing waterfalls, and moving animals into their new homes. It was during this time that the Toledo was opening the first phase of its African Savanna exhibit and Zoo Atlanta was regaining its accreditation. And it was at this time that the Lowry Park Zoological Society was making plans to assume operational control of the zoo, plans that included hiring a new Director. In December, they announced that they had selected Dr. Gil Boese, Director of the Milwaukee Zoo (who later declined the position). My days at Lowry Park were numbered.

Jane Goodall opens the new chimp exhibit

The new chimpanzee area was not especially large, but it was an interesting and varied space for animals who had only known concrete and chain-link. A long, grassy yard was broken up by large logs and an artificial, concrete termite mound. A deep dry-moat barrier afforded the chimps an unobstructed view of their human visitors and the landscape beyond. One of the highlights of my zoo career was seeing Herman walk on grass for the first time and climb atop what would become his favorite perch on the termite mound to gaze back at me. Coincidentally, the famous Atlanta Zoo gorilla, Willie B stepped outside onto grass for the first time that same year, in May of 1988. Willie B had been one of the animals I had seen at the Atlanta Zoo on that fateful day in 1970 when I decided to launch my career taking care of animals.

As the first phase of the Lowry Park Zoo neared completion in February 1988, the Zoo Association became the Lowry Park Zoological Society, a private, nonprofit organization dedicated to the management and ongoing development of a superior zoological garden. The rejuvenated Tampa's Lowry Park Zoo formally opened to the public on March 5, 1988 and in April I announced my resignation to begin the next phase of my career as Executive Director of the Great Plains Zoo and Delbridge Museum of Natural History in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

In Search of Eden – Chapter 6

The Louisville Zoo

Sergei, the male Siberian tiger at the Louisville Zoo, never liked me. When I entered his holding area he would stalk me relentlessly. I am not sure what his intentions were, but I was never comfortable in his presence, even with a fence between us. I expect the animosity went back to one of my first tasks when I arrived as the new curator in 1979. It was to move the 3 Siberian tigers in preparation for the grand opening their new exhibit.

The female Morgana went into her crate readily but the other female, Tanya, fought tooth and nail and was tranquilized for the move. Tanya’s immobilization went very smooth and she was down in seven minutes. The male, Sergei, on the other hand, took 2 hours. He refused to go down and the vets kept giving him more drugs – first with the dart gun, then with a pole syringe, and finally with a hand syringe. When we thought he was finally asleep, Dave Marshall, Ray Doyle, and I went in to tie his feet, but he woke up and chased us out! We finally got him moved around lunchtime and weighed him at 400 pounds. I don’t recall what he thought of Dave and Ray, but he never liked me after that.

Being the General Curator of a zoo meant I was in charge of the entire animal collection. It was the ideal job for an animal person, but it was not without its drawbacks. I enjoyed the responsibility of buying and selling animals, except when the director reprimanded me for buying at too high a price and selling too low. I was responsible for the animal collection 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, which meant that when a night watchman called in sick, I was often the one who had to pull an all-nighter.

The Louisville Zoo, in those days, was a medium sized zoo with a significant collection of mammals (elephants & rhinos, lions & tigers, seals & sea lions), but few birds and reptiles. The zoo was only ten years old, so most of the animal exhibits were modern and spacious.

Most of my time in Louisville is not well documented. I was involved in Cub Scouts with my boys Mike and Jason; my youngest son, Steve, was just beginning to walk; and my marriage was coming to an end in 1982.

Also in 1982, I met the person who would share the adventures of the rest of my life. One of my first dates with Karen Liebert was to visit the Louisville Zoo and see our newest acquisition, the two year old African elephant named Jana.

Jana the Elephant

Jana was the byproduct of extensive culling operations in southern Africa and had most recently been living with a bunch of other baby elephants at a holding compound in Ohio. She would need to be trained for a life in captivity which, at the time, meant “broken”, tamed for human contact, and taught various commands – not unlike house-breaking a dog to live indoors. In order to accomplish this training, the zoo hired legendary circus man and elephant trainer Robert “Smokey” Jones. At the time, Smokey was in his mid-fifties – a gruff, no-nonsense, bear of a man. He lived in a camper near our hay barn with Jana tied to a stake outside his door. His methods of training were rough, but he did get results and, at the time, I wouldn’t have known of any other way to do it. She was completely wild. In the early days, he would place a rope around each leg and have four, sturdy zookeepers hold onto each rope for dear life as she dragged them around. I wasn’t there for most of the actual training, but I do know he was successful because she eventually worked her way into our system. I also know that these cruel methods are, thankfully, no longer condoned in the zoos of today. Jana later went to live at the zoo in Knoxville, Tennessee and I moved to Tampa, Florida to lead the efforts to renovate the aging zoo at Lowry Park.

The Lowry Park Zoo

Tampa’s Lowry Park Zoo was a fast-moving, high-profile project when I arrived in 1984 and one of the first challenges found me, once again, in the elephant business. Sheena had been donated to the zoo in 1961 by the Park’s namesake, General Sumter L. Lowry, Jr. She had been just 18 months old when she arrived. The new master plan had been designed around her and the building she inhabited, but in order to build her new facilities, she would need to be moved to another zoo for a few years.

After searching far and wide, we found a good facility at African Lion Safari near Toronto Canada that would take her. They had proper facilities, other elephants, and a highly competent staff. A deal was struck that would send her to Canada and bring her back when her new home was completed. All we had to do was figure out how to get her there. I described the process in my article for the Zoo’s newsletter in the fall of 1985.

Though highly trained, Sheena had not been handled in over ten years. She had become quite unmanageable and even dangerous to those who worked around her. But after a few days with the experienced elephant handler, Charles Gray, she was performing all of her old tricks and even seemed to enjoy the change in routine and the companionship of her handler. The next problem was how to get her out of the enclosure. So complete was Sheena’s incarceration, that there was not even a gate into her enclosure. Our friendly workmen moved in with their cutting torches and bulldozers, and after nearly an hour of cutting the heavy iron rails, an opening was made in the pen.

The next problem we faced was the uncertainty of Sheena’s reactions to her new found freedom. Would she respond to her handler’s commands, or would she run away at the first opportunity? The moment of truth arrived. As Sheena walked out of her pen for the first time in nearly 15 years, it became obvious that she was happy to be outside and yet very responsive to her handler.  She quickly gained his confidence, and was soon allowed to wander happily around and explore the zoo she had lived in for most of her life. The rest of her loading and transporting was so uneventful as to appear routine. But that was not the end of the story.

In order to make transportation less traumatic, another elephant was brought from Canada to keep her company. A large male Asian elephant named “Buke” became the first elephant ever to share Sheena’s enclosure. Though she was coy to his advances at first and turned her back whenever he came close, she soon warmed up and remained close by his side as they explored the zoo grounds. 

The zoo, at that time, was being demolished. Most of the cages and sidewalks were gone and the elephants had plenty of sand to throw on themselves and few opportunities to get into any trouble. Buke was an impressive beast with massive tusks. He seemed gentle enough, responding to his handlers like an anxious child as the two elephants wandered the property untethered. He was so gentle that I took a photo of my twelve year old son, Jason, riding on his back. The next time I saw Buke was at his home in Canada later that summer. He was in musth (a period when bull elephants are sexually active and very aggressive) and chained to a tree – ready to kill anyone who came too near.

Sheena did well in Canada and we were hopeful later that summer when we were informed that breeding was taking place. Our hopes were dashed, however, when we received word that she had died of heart failure on January 17, 1986.

Bringing Down the Bars

I had been hired by the City of Tampa Parks Department in the spring of 1984 for the newly created position of Zoo Superintendent. A national humane society had dubbed Lowry Park one of the worst zoos in America a few years earlier and Tampa residents had called for it to be fixed up or shut down. The Lowry Park Zoo Association was formed in 1982, at the suggestion of the Tampa Parks Department, to raise awareness of the zoo and to promote a public-private partnership to fund its renaissance. After having worked at modern zoos in Toronto and Louisville, the Lowry Park Zoo was quite a let-down. Colleagues still tease me about my first office – a round, blue building that had been a birthday party house and was decorated to look like a birthday cake. There was promise of improvements, but that was small consolation to the animals. The zoo architectural firm, Design Consortium, Ltd., was also hired in 1984, to develop a 24-acre master plan. 

Our first event was in August of that year when we unveiled what was touted as a $10 million master plan that would use water barriers and dry moats to create naturalistic habitats for the animals while increasing the size of the zoo from 11 acres to 24 acres. The City was committing $1 million to fund the initial site preparation and infrastructure improvements as well as another $5 million for phase 1 of the zoo development. With the City firmly committed, the Zoo Association embarked on a $20 million capital campaign to build a new zoo for the City of Tampa.

Next Week: The Lowry Park Zoo is transformed