THE ANIMAL TRAINER--SOME FAMOUS TRAINERS
To secure the right man for the training of wild animals is about the
most serious problem that the proprietor of an animal exhibition has to
solve; very often the problem remains unsolved.
An animal trainer is a complex and unique person in more ways than
one. He is not always superlatively endowed with the characteristics
that are attributed to him by most casual observers. Curiously enough,
the very element that would seem the most essential is scarcely ever
reckoned as his chief virtue. Courage is considered by those who know
little about it as one of the first requisites, but a man may have
physical and moral courage to an unusual degree and still be quite
unfit for a trainer.
The animal trainer may have, and all do have to some extent, the
physical courage which is admired, but it is an unconscious courage,
and plays such a minor part in a successful performance, that the
possession of it is not noted, either by the trainer himself, or
by those who know him. There are faculties far higher and far more
difficult of cultivation, as well as more rarely possessed, which the
animal trainer must have.
First of all are good personal habits. The finest lion-trainers are
men of the most absolute personal integrity, who smoke and drink very
little, if at all, and who possess self-control to an unusual degree.
It is a fact very little known and somewhat difficult to realize
by those who have not studied the matter, that in some curious,
incomprehensible way, wild animals know instinctively whether men are
addicted to bad habits. It is one of the many problems which are beyond
the human understanding. For those who are the least bit inclined to
drink, or live a loose life, the wild animal has neither fear nor
respect.
He despises them with all the contempt of his animal nature, and
recognizes neither their authority nor superiority. Just as men
recognize superior minds and strong personalities in other men, so
does the wild animal recognize such qualities, and it is wonderful how
extremely susceptible animals are to graceful, refined, and pleasing
personalities.
The personality of an animal trainer is one that counts both with the
animals and with the audience, and the more magnetic, polished, and
accomplished he is, the greater will be his success and the stronger
will be his influence, both with the animals with which he comes in
contact and with the public which observes him. But if a man has begun
to take just a little, or has deviated somewhat from the straight road,
the animals will discover it long before his fellow-men.
From that moment the trainer’s life is in danger every time he enters
the cage, and the animals keep a keen lookout for the moment when
he will either trip a little,--always the signal for animals to
spring,--lose his nerve, or let his thoughts go wandering off to other
matters, even for a moment or two. The least carelessness, the least
indifference, even a little unusual movement on his part, is quite
enough to make the animals spring upon him and get him down.
[Illustration: HERMAN WEEDON DEFYING HIS FIERCEST LION]
Occasionally a trainer who is beginning to take to drink or other bad
habits realizes that he will soon lose the respect and control of his
animals, and is wise enough to drop the training business before too
late. But, as a rule, once a man has taken up this profession he is
extremely loath to resign, although he may be perfectly well aware that
he endangers his life every moment he trusts himself among the animals.
There is a peculiar fascination about the life which keeps him at it;
and although I have often warned men, they have rarely been induced to
give it up until some severe accident has happened which has either
disabled them, or given them such a shock that they lost their nerve
entirely.
One of the finest lion-trainers that America ever had has now
voluntarily retired, though still in the prime of life; but he is
addicted to drink, realized the danger, and so was sensible enough to
give it up before too late. He felt it was absolutely unsafe for him
to enter the arena night after night, when no matter how little he
drank had a numbing effect upon him.
The climax came one night when, feeling a little more numb than usual,
he suddenly noticed in the midst of the performance that his lions
were all looking at him curiously. Instantly he knew that they had
lost their respect for him, for all trainers can tell, before anything
happens, when the moment has come in which they are likely to lose
their dominance, if that loss comes, not through accident, but through
the paralysis of their own power. He realized at once the pitiful state
he was drifting into, and the danger, and was wise and quick enough to
get out before they got him.
But that was the last time he ever entered the cage. From being
tractable and docile, the lions from that time had nothing but hatred
and contempt for him, and his approach even near their cages was always
the signal for savage snarls and vicious leaps at the bars.
Another essential in animal training is patience. It must be an
ingrained attribute of the character, and dominant at all times--a
constant, persistent, unwearying patience. Without it the trainer
will never make a complete success. Allied with patience must be good
judgment, and one who is patient generally has good judgment. This is
one of the reasons that, as a rule, Englishmen and Germans, being more
phlegmatic, make excellent animal trainers.
Trainers whose patience is limited never last long. There comes a day
when, through hasty temper or a sudden loss of patience, the trainer
says or does some foolish thing, which he always has reason to regret,
and bitterly, too.
In one case, one of the animals would not respond to his cue, in spite
of being spoken to several times. The trainer kept his patience for
some time, but the fact that the audience was getting restless made him
nervous, and in a foolish moment he shouted at the lion. The shout was
so unusual and so unexpected that every lion in the cage started, and
the next moment there was a scene of the wildest confusion.
The animals roared, jumped from their pedestals, and soon pinned the
man to the floor. By a supreme effort he raised himself, and being near
the door, the attendants were able to keep the lions back by firing
blank cartridges until he could get out. But he was terribly mauled,
and it was a long and tedious illness which followed. To show what a
disturbing effect that shout had on the lions, it was hours before they
could be quieted, and even when they were fed, two hours afterward,
they were still restless and excited, and left their meat every few
minutes to roar and growl.
That was the last time the trainer ever entered the cage. He lost his
nerve completely. Unless a man has absolute self-control, he can never
be sure of what may happen to him as a lion-trainer. This trainer’s
sudden loss of patience proved that he was unable to control his
feelings, in itself a weakness, and animals recognize all weaknesses
immediately.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN JACK BONAVITA]
Among other things, physical agility is a prime requisite. It is
better if it is the agility of reserve rather than the agility of
aggression, for aggression arouses a like quality in the animal, and
develops an appreciation of his brute strength, which sooner or later
may be used against the trainer. But the equipoise and power existing
only in those of good personal habits and judgment give an animal
trainer the needed ability to escape an otherwise unavoidable danger.
Another quality is nerve--and plenty of it. Without nerve no man can do
anything with a wild animal; it is the secret of the animal trainer’s
success, while ceaseless vigilance means the safety of his life. A man
may be nervous and yet have plenty of nerve. I have known trainers who
would start at the slightest noise or a sudden sound, and who would
rather walk ten miles out of their way than meet a stranger, or attract
attention in any way; and yet in times of danger, when their lives hung
in the balance, would exhibit the utmost nerve and daring, mixed with a
calm assurance that was astonishing.
These personal qualities are more or less apparent to all close
observers of animal training, but there is one which is even more
essential than any of the others, and for which the trainer seldom
gets credit, yet it is one which places his profession on a par with
that of the school-teacher, the preacher, the writer, or any of the
students of men, because the study is more difficult and more complex.
This is a knowledge of animal nature, as diversified and peculiar, and
as subject to varying conditions and environment, as human nature. Some
may say that it is not as complex as human nature, because it is not as
highly organized, but it furnishes the same food for thought, with the
added element that upon the trainer’s knowledge of the idiosyncrasies
of his charges depends his success, and very often his life.
Constant vigilance, not only in the arena, but out of it, is the
trainer’s watchword. Consequently, trainers are a hard-working lot; for
it is not only the actual public performances which take up their time.
It is necessary to have constant rehearsals, constant lessons to the
animals about various things; for it is never wise to try to correct
or teach much during a performance, and there is always much to learn
and study. Many animals drop off in time, either by sickness or from
some other causes, and new animals have to be trained to take their
place: this is always done privately, and few ever realize the amount
of time and trouble that an animal will sometimes require before he is
perfected in one little act.
The ideal animal trainer is a man of superb physique. His eyes are
clear, his muscles hard and sinewy, his limbs well grown, his body well
developed, and his clean, healthy skin shows the warm blood circulating
beneath. He is without blemish physically, and his mental capabilities
are good. He knows men as well as animals. He makes a versatile
application of that knowledge; he knows the traits, the history, and
the tendencies of those animals which form his life study, and on the
constant use of that knowledge depends his dominance.
I have always been particularly fortunate in my trainers. From the time
when I assumed control of the business in 1881, it has been my good
fortune to have intelligent men, who take an interest in and love
their profession, and who love their animals and charges.
Edward Deyerling, chief animal trainer at the Chicago Exposition in
1893, received his tuition under me in England in the eighties.
His persistency in practice was remarkable, and while his methods with
his animals gained their entire confidence in him, the unearthly hours
which he devoted to their education would have told on the vitality of
many men of stronger constitution than his. The success he attained
was more than well deserved. He was a humane trainer and possessed
those good qualities so essential for success in the art of animal
subjugation.
He was not killed, as is generally believed, but died a natural death
several years ago.
The wild animal performances of 1893 were small affairs compared with
the exhibitions of to-day, but his performance with five male lions
gave the World’s Fair visitors much to talk about, and secured for him
a great reputation in this country, and I am naturally proud that he
began his career in one of my establishments.
But I am prouder still of a lion-trainer who is with me now, Captain
Jack Bonavita, who has trained no less than twenty-seven grown lions
to perform in the arena at the same time. That this has been the work
of years it is hardly necessary to state; but the patience, courage,
judgment, and terrible nerve-strain necessary to reach this climax no
one can ever realize except those who have watched him carefully week
after week, month after month, and year after year.
There were times when it seemed as though he would certainly have
to abandon his task; there was so much to contend with, so many
difficulties to face and overcome, and such bitter disappointments. But
Bonavita is a man of iron will, and when once he has made up his mind
to do a thing, he never rests until he has accomplished it thoroughly.
When he first made his appearance at the Pan-American Exhibition in
1901, his entrance with the twenty-seven lions was so impressive that
for a few seconds after the first flare of the band the silence was
intense. Few will forget that incident. The gates at the back of the
arena opened, and slowly and majestically out walked twenty-seven kings
of the forest, and at the unspoken order of one man,--for he never
speaks to them when performing,--each one took his special place on a
certain pedestal, and went through all the various evolutions and acts
in which he had been so carefully trained. The sight of this one man
moving quietly about among all the lions made a deep impression upon
many people.
President Roosevelt remarked, after witnessing his performance, that
he had never seen or heard of anything like it, and that he admired
the man’s pluck, for he was a hero. General Miles wrote from the War
Office, and said:
“I was particularly impressed with Bonavita and his monster grouping of
twenty-seven lions. Such control of these noble creatures as was shown
is truly remarkable.”
The first impression one gets of Captain Bonavita is that of a refined
and courteous gentleman. He is peculiarly reserved, and it is with the
greatest reluctance that he can ever be induced to talk about himself,
but he is never tired of talking about his lions.
He is of an extremely sensitive, highly strung nature, and although
many feel that his nerves must be of steel, there are times when the
terrible strain is more than unusually severe, and he retires to his
own quarters completely played out. For it is absurd to think that
a man who does such a risky thing as he does is never nervous. He
realizes his danger as much as any one, and he has had cause to do so
many times.
His chief comforts seem to be his cat and dog. The dog, a magnificent
Great Dane named Pluto, is devoted to his master, and after a specially
trying time, when he seems quite unable to speak to any one else, the
master talks to him. The cat, named Tramp, has no pedigree whatever,
and is as commonplace-looking an animal as can be found in any back
yard. But Captain Bonavita is almost as devoted to him as to the
dog, and when the cat sits on the dog’s back the man who can control
twenty-seven lions is perfectly satisfied.
I have spoken of some of his accidents in other chapters. In
all Captain Bonavita has had over fifty bad ones, but these have
not prevented his going among the lions again at the very first
opportunity. To use his own words: “A man does not refuse to go into
battle because he has been hurt.”
Another trainer who has become famous through her daring and wonderful
control of the most treacherous of wild beasts is Mme. Louise Morelli.
She is a Frenchwoman, and talks to her jaguars, leopards, and panthers
in French, which they appear to understand quite as well as any other
language, as it is not so much what is said as the tone of voice in
which the words are spoken.
[Illustration: MADAME MORELLI AND HER JAGUARS, PANTHERS, AND LEOPARDS]
Mme. Morelli is a small woman and rather frail, but her nerve and quiet
self-possession are truly wonderful. Leopards, panthers, and jaguars
are noted for their stealthy, sly ways, and their deceit and treachery.
They are most difficult to train and subdue, and can never be relied
upon. These cringing big cats are the most alert fiends by nature;
they have none of the nobility of the lion, none of the aloofness
of the tiger. They are cowardly and sly, and are always watching
an opportunity to spring on the trainer’s back on the slightest
provocation, so that the training of them is more perilous than work
with any other animals. And yet this small woman goes into the arena
with five of them, makes them go through various acts and manœuvers,
and finally sits down among them and allows one or two of them to lick
her hands, and even to take them in their treacherous mouths.
This is dangerous enough, but the most dangerous trick of all is when
she allows one of her jaguars, Cartouche, to place the weight of his
prostrate body on a stick held horizontally in her hands and over her
face, while she looks up into his glaring eyes.
Herman Weedon is noted for his mixed groups, of which I have already
spoken. He has unlimited courage and daring, and is a splendid trainer,
but runs a terrible risk in dealing with Goldie, who is one of the
fiercest and most dangerous tigresses. Time after time he has been
terribly torn and lacerated by this animal, and time after time he has
been warned to give up all attempts at training her and leave her
out of the group altogether. But one might as well ask a mountain to
move as to ask Weedon to give up Goldie. In spite of her treachery and
vindictiveness, he is truly fond of her. He will take the trouble to
explain over and over again that it is only occasionally that she has
these wicked fits, that often she is most gentle and affectionate, and
that she has such a beautiful head and body that it would completely
spoil his group to leave her out.
And although all he has ever been able to make her do is to sit on
a pedestal and ladder and allow him to open her mouth, he persists
in trying, with wonderful and unlimited patience, to subdue that
terrible, passionate nature of hers, and induce her to be a little more
tractable. He is afraid of nothing, and trouble and opposition only
make him more determined to overcome obstacles and attain his object.
A wonderful proof of training is the man-ape, or chimpanzee, Consul.
This animal eats and drinks like a human being, plays the piano, uses
a typewriter, and behaves in such a wonderfully human way that one
begins to wonder whether Darwin’s theory is not right, after all.
Charles Day is one of the oldest trainers in the exhibition, and has
been in the Bostock family for thirty years. The fascination of this
life is well shown in his case. At one time he was also a trainer
of lions, but now contents himself with showing visitors round and
explaining the various zoological specimens. He has had more unique
experiences than any man I know, and tells them in a very dramatic and
amusing manner.