JFamily Weelcly February 10, 1963
nish the wherewithal for my sister and myself to
attend school in that city. He had neglected us
fo? many years, but we believed eagerly in his
promises and made the change.
I was 14 : tall and gangling and ridden almost
equally with ambitions to be a crack entomologist
specializing in butterflies and moths- and to en
list in the Army for service overseas in World
War I. Neither of these ambitions was achieved ;
but I did try.
On the entomological front, I soon made con
tact with Dr. Gerhardt at the Field Museum. Why
this genial man put up with me is something I
will never know; but he did his best to welcome
the fumbling intrusion of an enthusiastic boy
who came claiming his time on Saturdays and
sometimes late on weekday afternoons also.
One cold winter day, in that drafty tangle
of dim hallways I found a small assemblage of
museum officials and workmen who were, for the
moment, honored by the presence of Carl Akeley.
He had dropped in to give his opinion concerning
some exhibits. I stood close and, with the rest,
thrilled to the impressive conversation of this
internationally famous naturalist, explorer, and
sculptor, who towered like a silver-clad peak in
his field.
There were not many more moments of happi
ness for me In Chicago, however. My father was
arrested for using the mails to defraud; I quit
school and went to work as an office boy to help
provide eating money for the family. Then the
Child-Labor inspectors caught up with me and
threw me out of my job because I was under 16.
We had to go back to Iowa.
For me, returning to Webster City High School
was a painful experience. I was now three years
behind my old class, and I was more aware than
ever that the school was filled with parrot voices,
squeaking and quacking trivial parrot notions.
But I did not know how really painful school
could be until I made the mistake of bragging
that I had met Carl Akeley, stood beside him,
even I laughed worked with him.
Fervently, I launched into a recital of Akeley's
accomplishments. I pointed out how he had revo
lutionized the whole process of zoological exhibi
tions by striving for a presentation in which
specimens were set before the public in their
natural posture and surroundings. I told of his
journeys and writings, his fight to protect the
gorillas from those who would murder them
pointlessly.
"And yet I guess you couldn't call a man like
that very soft," I added, "not a man who actually
killed a leopard with his bare hands!"
"Bare hands'!"
"He had nothing else at the moment, and it was
a case of either Dr. Akeley or the leopard. He
doesn't hanker after killing animals, but that
time he had to do it."
Loom Talk in Front of Spies
They stood regarding me doubtfully. There
were not only friends in this crew, there were
Enemies as well: the ones whom we called spies
spies for the Principal, spies for the Superin
tendent. I was sticking my neck way out I should
hnye known better, but didn't.
"What do you mean. Mack? You say you
worked with him "
"Certainly!" I shot back with all the show-off
arrogance of youth (most especially youth which
has been savagely bruised). "We helped move
some things out of an exhibit and put them in
another case. Everybody worked and shoved, side
by side! Even the head of the museum. Sure, I
met Carl Akeley and worked with him."
That time I was really asking for it And I got
it. Oh, how I got it . . .
When I arrived at school that fateful morning,
there were people waiting for me in the hall. I
saw faces smiling, and some of the smiles weren't
very pleasant I felt a little chilly but still didn't
know why.
"Mack, have you seen the bulletin board?"
No, I had not; so they led me up to read the
thing displayed there.
The homemade handbill was prepared in neat
est type. There was a picture of Carl Akeley and
the announcement that while in town for the
lecture, he had consented to talk to the high
school students that very morning. Worst of all
was the paragraph appended, which read some
thing like this:
"It may interest the high-school classes to know
that one of their fellow members, Mack Kantor,
once became acquainted with Dr. Akeley and
worked side by side with him at the Field Muse
um in Chicago. No doubt this will come as a
surprise to many, and probably it will be an es
pecially happy surprise for Dr. Akeley to greet
his old friend. Mack will be encouraged to meet
with Dr. Akeley immediately after the latter has
finished his discourse in the assembly room."
The whole purpose of this enterprise, of course,
was to reveal me as a liar. In our tenderhearted
Webster City of that period there was, unhappily
for me, a school of thought which reiterated
through the years: "Mack will probably turn out
to be just like his father."
I stood there with personal and social disaster
only minutes ahead. Carl Akeley wouldn't re
member me, naturally enough. Why should he
recall a bony schoolboy who had been one of a
throng three years before and during a mo
mentary encounter?
Leading a Lamb to Slaughter
There was sweat on the back of my neck, sweat
under my hair. I tried to smile . . .
"Did you hear that?" said a voice in my ear.
"They've just rung the bell for assembly. Come
on, Mack. Up to the assembly room!"
Then I was walking. My footfalls sounded tiny
and far away.
We reached the assembly room. I was in a
trance. Somehow I sat down, tried to grin feebly;
and then the next moment the Superintendent
was on the platform with Carl Akeley beside him.
I haven't the slightest idea what Carl Akeley
talked about that morning; didn't know then,
can't tell you now. Brief it must have been : speak
ers were never asked to appear for more than 15
minutes. But it seemed like 15 hours to me.
Eventually we applauded the speaker. A bell
rang for dismissal, and we all rose up and turned
away from our desks; we filled the aisles.
I tried to find shelter behind others, tried to
droop down, efface myself physically, and this
was difficult to manage because I was tall. Then
quickly . . . oh, it will be over soon, it will be over
. . . my nickname was called a single syllable
like the cracking of a whip.
"Mack," the Superintendent called. "Come
here!" He was smiling how he smiled and the
burly Principal was grinning behind him.
Carl Akeley halted and looked puzzled.
"Just a minute, sir. if you please," said the
Principal. "Here's an old friend of yours."
Somehow, I'd walked that distance to the front
of the room. I stood there and looked into those
deep-set eyes. Feebly, I was extending my hand.
"Surely, Dr. Akeley," said the Superintendent,
"you'll remember someone who says he knew you
at the Field Museum?"
They repeated my name again and again
repeated it with various inflections, and their
triumphant leer was as the smirk of devils. Three
hundred students stood staring, wondering what
would happen; but most of them thought they
knew. And all those teachers rimmed along the
back of the room and at the sides they were
watching, the world was watching.
I said: "Dr. Akeley, sir. It was only once that
we met. I was with Dr. Gerhardt. They were mov
ing an exhibit "
A Last-Minute Reprieve
The expression on his face underwent complete
alteration. Never have I seen so much compassion,
such nobility projected into a human countenance,
and all in a split second.
He knew'. Dr. Akeley knew. He knew what they
were trying to do to me.
"Remember you?" he cried. "Of course I re
member you!"
He repeated the name they had uttered to him,
the name he had never heard before, would never
recall more ; yet he made a magic of it.
"Of course, of course!" he cried. "In Chicago,
some years ago. Yes, you've grown so much,
Mack, I didn't know you! You were a friend of
Osgood, right? Of course, of course "
And I hadn't been a friend of Dr. Osgood; I
had only watched him in admiration, when some
times we passed in a museum corridor.
Carl Akeley moved leisurely toward the stair
case and I was moving with him because he had
his arm across my shoulders and was impelling
me on his way, which had now become my way.
"Tell me," he said, "what are you doing here?"
"Well, sir, I was interested in entomology at
that time. But now I want to be a writer. I'm
working on a newspaper, part time, and going to
school the rest of the time."
"Ah, yes," he said. "Writing: sad and lonely
business! But of course " The deep eyes peered
at me. "If you're determined, there will be no
stopping you." His thick arm, that arm so torn
and scarred, tightened across my shoulders.
Students and teachers had parted to let us
through as we went down the stairs. We reached
the second floor and then shook hands.
"Sir," I said, "I've got to go to class. It was
nice of you to remember me "
"How could I help it?" said the Great Man.
"And, Mack you'll be at my lecture tonight?"
"Yes, sir. I'll be there."
So his voice comes down the years all the way
from the Africa where his gnarled bones rest, all
the way from that challenging Paradise which
his soul must be exploring.
In those few minutes, by force and example,
he had taught me something that I needed very
much to learn. He taught me that the measure of
a man's true greatness is not necessarily in the
extent of his accomplishments but in the extent
to which his heart remains unsoiled, unspoiled,
forever understanding.
I had been surrounded by rodents and needed
to meet up with a tawny lion. I had met one.
family Wetkly. rtbrury 10. IH1 t