ate as an engineer, told me he was
going to become a bond salesman.
"Another, majoring' in agriculture, was
planning to take over his father's
store. Two fellows in geology were
planning to go into business and
forget all about geology.
This, I thought to myself, was pretty
ridiculous. What were they studying
specialties for? What appeared even
worse, they didn't really want busi
ness careers. They seemed pushed by
vague notions of what they thought
they ought to do. They seemed to be
wasting their time and their money
and, in the long run, their lives.
I'm not trying to imply tnat a busi
ness career is a waste. Far from it
Business can certainly be as fascinat
ing as collecting snakes, if that's what
a man wants to do. All I'm saying is
that a fellow ought to choose it, not
fall into it nor let it fall on him.
Dicht then and there I assumed
naively but, I insist, quite
correctly that if a man made
up his mind to turn his chief interest
into his livelihood, he could do so. I
remember talking it over with my
closest boyhood friend, with whom I
used to go boating down the river. He
was crazy about boats and fishing;
that was all he was interested in. Last
time I heard, he was in business float
ing tourists down the White River in
long, slender river boats. He loved it
and has built a fine business out of it.
So I decided, if you'll pardon the
wisecrack, that I belonged in a zoo. I
had absolutely no idea how to get
such a job, but I told my father I
wanted to quit college.
I knew that my father, who was a
circuit judge, deeply wished I would
follow law. He had tried several
things himself in his early days
railroading, carpentry, farm jobs but
on Saturdays, he'd wander into the
courtroom just to watch the judge and
the lawyers. Then he began to spend
his nights studying law (he never
went to college) until he felt he could
pass the examinations.
Dad encouraged me to go ahead.
I rented a room in St. Louis, went
to the zoo where I had often gone as
a visitor, and asked a keeper in the
monkey house ' whom I should see
about getting a job. He sent me to
George Vierheller, the director, whose
office was just upstairs. So upstairs,
over the monkey house, I told Vier
heller that I was nuts about animals
and I wanted to work for him. I gave
him a list of the books I had read,
the little bit of zoology I had studied,
and the zoos I had visited.
"Yes, we're looking for fellows like
you," he said. "It may not be quite
what you had in mind, but if you're
willing to work pushing a lawn
mower, sweeping sidewalks, antl trim
ming hedges, you can report tomor
row morning. You'll get $3.50 a day,
six days a week, eight hours a day,
with an hour off for lunch."
Before the next day was over I had
some pretty sizable blisters. Pushing
a lawnmower can be fun if you throw
yourself into it, particularly if you
can watch peacocks and flamingoes
and elephants at the same time. Dur
ing my lunch hour I'd walk around
and study the animals. I was delighted
with the job, hard as it was. Mean
while, I think Vierheller wanted to
make sure this young college boy was
willing to work.
In three weeks or so, Vierheller as
signed me to look after the reptiles.
There weren't many some bull
snakes, some Gila monsters, a boa
constrictor, and lots of turtles and
alligators, all housed in temporary
quarters and generally ignored.
During that Summer (this was
1926) Vierheller and members of the
zoo board were interested in building
a reptile house. Some were skeptical
about spending a quarter-million
dollars on a palace for snakes, but
they agreed to put on a .temporary
exhibit. In the old ostrich house, we
built some glass-sided cages, assem
bled water pools, and painted murals.
I went out and collected some snakes
in the St. Louis area. Vierheller
bought a couple of pythons. I made
descriptive labels for everything and
flamed them, and we were in business.
The exhibit was an instant success.
The first Sunday, the crowds lined up
for two blocks. It wasn't a month be
fore the board was convinced they
ought to build a reptile house.
Now they were willing in fact
eager to invest in me. They sent me
for six weeks to the Bronx Zoo in
New York. There, under Raymond
Ditmars, at that time the outstanding
herpetologist (snake expert) in the
country, I learned how to handle the
really dangerous snakes. But I wanted
to learn about more than just reptiles,
so in spare moments I roamed the
Bronx Zoo taking notes on the diets
of monkeys, rhinos, hippos, and birds.
After a while, Vierheller gave me
the title of curator of reptiles. I was
in heaven. In 1933, when I got mar
ried, my salary was $3,000. It wasn't
great, but it was comfortable, and I
was happy. Animals, my hobby, had
become my business.
Photography was getting to be a
hobby, too. I talked Vier
heller into buying a good camera
for the zoo, and we got his carpenters
to set up a darkroom in the basement
under the reptile house. I was afraid
to ask Vierheller to buy an enlarger,
so I improvised one out of my camera
and I built an easel. Vierheller liked
my pictures and soon I found myself
the zoo's official photographer. We
put out a zoo guide book, and about
90 percent of the pictures were mine.
One of the board members owned
a lot of movie equipment and he
loaned it all to me. So I learned how
to shoot and edit movies, and soon
we were showing films in schools and
clubs, stimulating interest in the zoo.
By now, I knew that my naive boy
hood notion was quite sound, that if
you didn't want your life to fall into
an accidental pattern, you had to de
sign it for yourself; that a fellow who
set about constructively to realize his
ambitions would find a lot of help.
One of my ambitions, not yet real
ized, was to travel, to go out to some
This 16-foot, 175-pound anaconda bit Perkins' hand Sinbad, the baby gorilla, cuddles up close in puzzled and wide- Porpoise gets "first-aid" treatment
before it was finally bagged in the Upper Amazon, eyed wonder upon arrival at its new home in Lincoln Park Zoo. for harpoon wound after its capture.
Family Wcrklu. October 10, 53 5