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

In Search of Eden – Chapter 5

Opening Day

I have long been puzzled about why I have no recollection of the August 15^th, 1974 opening day at the new Metro Toronto Zoo. It was the day we had all been working toward and yet, it is as though I was never there. Then, as I looked back on my diary and notes, it hit me. I was too busy working.

I was, at the time, a senior keeper working in the Americas section of the zoo. My area included an indoor pavilion, a large polar bear complex, and a South America paddock. The pavilion was largely underground and it held the most diverse collection of animals a senior zookeeper could be expected to care for, including mammals (beavers, otters, cacomistle), birds (band-tailed pigeons, native song birds, waterfowl), reptiles (alligators, rattlesnakes), and fishes. In the days and weeks leading up to opening, and especially on opening day itself, we were frantically preparing exhibits and receiving animals. 
Toronto’s grand idea for a zoo was a product of the times. During the 1960’s, we were learning about animals in their natural habitats from field biologists like Jane Goodall while Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom was bringing nature programming into our living rooms for the first time. This was also a time that governments were passing legislation to conserve and protect wildlife and wild places. Canada created the Department of the Environment in 1971 and signed on to the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) in 1973, the same year the United States passed its Endangered Species Act.  
Zoos, in the 1970’s, were coming under fire and, in many cases, being forced to change. A few months before I started in the zoo business in 1971, an investigator with the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) reported on the “repugnant conditions” at more than 70 zoos in 23 states, and recommended that many zoos be closed down unless they underwent major improvements.As a result of this prodding, along with a more enlightened public attitude toward animals, cities all over North America began to spend money on their zoos at an astonishing rate, a trend that continues to this day. Old zoos, like the Audubon Zoo in New Orleans, were renovated, and new zoos were built in cities from San Diego to Minneapolis to Miami. The core value of all of these new zoos was a strong emphasis on conservation and education. I count myself fortunate to have begun my career at two zoos that were ahead of the times. Busch Gardens was singled out in the HSUS report for praise, and the Toronto Zoo was already committed to change.

A Zoo Ahead of its Time

After the zoo opened, I was assigned to a new area known as the Canadian Domain. The Domain opened in 1976 and occupied several hundred acres of the Rouge River valley section of the property. Animals were in large, naturalistic areas and were viewed by monorail train. We developed areas for bison and pronghorn, moose and elk, white-tailed and mule deer, grizzly bears, and wolves. We even fenced-in a rocky cliff for a herd of white, big-horns known as Dahl’s sheep. Keeper access to the remote Canadian Domain was challenging. We used four-wheel drive trucks and, when heavy snow built up, we even had snow mobiles. 
The memories of those years are like faded images from an old album, but I do recall:

The white-tailed deer named “Patricia” that had been hand raised and remained tame enough to pet like a dog, but the babies she had every spring remained as wild as march-hares. The pronghorn that were captured in Alberta as infants and hand raised, but were barely tame enough to approach. An entire herd of plains bison that had to be captured out of a five acre pen and shipped out to make room for a new herd of wood bison from western Canada. The two zookeepers that I had to write-up because they cracked the windshield of their truck playfully tossing frozen bison turds at each other.

When the Metro Toronto Zoo opened its 710 acre “zoogeographic” zoo, organized around groups of animals from the same parts of the world, it may have appeared to be in line with world-wide trends but it was, in fact, ahead of its time. No other zoo took the zoogeographic theme to the level of the Toronto Zoo, with its huge continental areas of Indomalaya, Africa, the Americas, and Eurasia. Each area had an indoor pavilion that was a combination zoo, aquarium, museum, and botanical garden. It would be another ten years before other zoos began to catch up with the opening of large indoor facilities like the Bronx Zoo’s Jungle World.

As great as it was, my Canadian adventure came to an end in April of 1979 when I became the General Curator of the Louisville Zoo and began the next chapter of my career.

In Search of Eden – Chapter 4

The Toronto zoo, Part 1

New Arrivals

Opening the crate of a newly arrived animal at the zoo is always a tense moment. You never know whether the animal will walk out calmly, refuse to come out at all, or come flying out like the human cannonball at the circus. That is why I was nervous and excited at the same time. I didn’t know what to expect. It was late evening and my partner and I had just returned to the zoo from the airport. Our job that evening had been to pick up two wooden crates from an international flight at the airport, return to the zoo, and uncrate the animals. We were to give them some food and water and, if they appeared healthy, leave them for the night. The veterinarians would give them a thorough exam in the morning.

I sat cross-legged in a twelve foot by twelve foot holding stall in the Toronto Zoo’s quarantine building. The heavy bedding of wood shavings and straw was both comfortable to sit in and soothing in its scent of fresh pine. I had lifted the sliding door out of its track and laid it on top of the wooden crate and settled a few feet from the opening, peering into the darkness. My plan was to sit quietly and wait for the baby gorilla to emerge. Would he remain inside, walk out calmly, or jump out in a rage, biting and clawing everything (and everyone) in sight. The answer, as it turned out, would be a little bit of everything.

We sat staring at each other for a long time. His name was Joseph and he was settled with his back at the far end of the crate, looking at me without making direct eye contact. He was thirty pounds of black fur and dark eyes, clearly frightened and unsure of what to do next. As I was about to give up and leave him to explore after I left, he stirred and walked calmly out of the crate and into my lap. We sat for a few seconds, with him in my lap facing away from me and then in slow motion, he placed his mouth over my bare, right forearm and bit down – hard. So hard, in fact, that I hollered in pain and jerked my arm away. I pushed him out of my lap as gently as I could under the painful circumstances and left the pen to examine my injury. The bite broke the skin slightly, leaving a bloody imprint of his upper and lower teeth like some dental impression. My worries about what diseases he might be carrying escalated ten days later, when he died. As it turned out, he had no transmissible diseases and obviously, I have survived with no ill effects. 

An Old Zoo Disappears

In the early 1970’s, the city of Toronto was in the process of building one of the finest, most progressive zoos in the world.  By the time I arrived on the scene in late 1973, Toronto’s old Riverdale Zoo was little more than an animal holding facility. Many of the cages had been abandoned. The park had opened in 1890 and the zoo’s first animals went on display in 1899 in conditions that were typical of zoos in this era. Zoos in the Victorian period were “more like curiosity shows than anything we’d be familiar with today and many of the animals were kept in pens that were patently too small but had the benefit of affording the best views for visitors”, according to Chris Bateman’s blog at TO.com

Though I had little contact with the old zoo and have forgotten much of what was there, I do recall the old polar bear enclosure. It was about fifty or sixty feet square with a concrete floor that was mostly taken up by a large, circular pool. Its heavy iron bars reached a height of ten or twelve feet and since it was open topped, the bars curled inward at the top in an upside down U-shape terminating in sharp tips. I don’t know when it was constructed, but this photograph of the exhibit with two cubs in residence has the date May 25, 1926 was scrawled across the bottom.

Toronto’s New Zoo

From its earliest days, the new zoo was a product of grand ideas and forward thinking. Few cities could boast a zoo of this magnitude. In the fall of 1973, I would become one of a few Americans on a team of Canadian zookeepers from around the nation and a melding of nationalities from the United Kingdom, Switzerland, Australia, and other parts of the world. I doubt there has ever been assembled a more talented, diverse, and eccentric group of zookeepers anywhere on the planet than those who came together to open the Metro Toronto Zoo. The people who worked at the zoo in those days endured primitive working conditions, low pay, harsh winters working outdoors, and injuries from wild animals but the results, at least from my vantage point 40 years later, were so worth it.

Opening an enormous zoo with thousands of animals was a complex undertaking. Animals arrived daily and their permanent homes were still under construction, so conditions were often alarmingly makeshift. In the facility across the street from the zoo known as the “Main Barn”, for example, we held two juvenile polar bears. They were in adjacent pens with no shift doors. In order to clean their pens, we had to shift them out into a nearby hallway, utilizing plywood shields for protection. These animals were nearly a year old and probably over a hundred pounds each. The process was exciting for us until they became large enough to snatch the shields out of our hands. We were glad when our overworked maintenance crew finally had the time to install some shift doors.

We had a few animal holding spaces on the property, but on most mornings zookeepers would strike out in trucks, cars, and even tractors, heading for the temporary holding areas that dotted the countryside – the Finch barn, the Johnson barn, the Sedgewick barn, and the old pig farm more than twenty kilometers away in Claremont. We dealt with icy, treacherous winter roads; isolated, lonely locations; and challenging animal medical conditions. We were kicked, bitten, head-butted, and at the end of the day gathered at the Glen Eagles Pub to sing pub songs and laugh at our tribulations.