Animals: Davisons in Africa

Friends of the Frederick Trubee Davisons wondered last week which one had killed the elephant. Mr. Davison, the American Museum of Natural History’s new president, had cabled from Africa, where he and his wife are hunting specimens for the museum’s new Akeley African Hall, under the guidance of the Africa-wise Martin Elmer Johnsons: “Have organized safari and got small bull elephant; all well.” In the Davison marksmanship there was no clue to identify the killer—both are excellent shots—nor in their respective degrees of bloodthirstiness. Before President Davison sailed, commissioned by his curators to include four elephants (small enough not to usurp too much space in the exhibit) among his trophies, he said: “I haven’t the slightest desire to shoot anelephant” (TIME, June 19). And a long letter received last week from Mrs. Davison by her mother-in-law closed with the words: “I really feel badly about shooting them.” Nevertheless museum men predicted there would be real rivalry between the Davisons for the first kill, since they meant to shoot only at “Shambas,” vicious-tempered outlaws.* Mrs. Davison’s letter described their airplane flight up the Nile’s twisting 2,500-mi. length to meet the Johnsons. After an hour aloft, they fervently wished themselves back at Cairo. “I give you my word ” wrote Mrs. Davison, “it was worse than any dream of torment Dante could ever have conceived. The heat stood a solid wall even … at 10,000 feet, and if we tried a mere peep through windows our eyes were scorched and our heads swam. Of course, to add to the discomfort, it was rough as the dickens. . .”After two scorching days & nights, the weather turned cool and cloudy. They began to enjoy themselves. Near Juba the pilot banged a bell thrice. Game! Fourteen passengers whooped with excitement, flattened their noses against the windows as the ship’s nose went down. They saw a herd of about 200 elephants of assorted sizes; then another, then a third. “Can you imagine our feelings? And funny none of us thought how grand a target they made. They looked so peaceful and contented. . . .” The Martin Johnsons were waiting at Kisumu (on Lake Victoria) with a big Sikorsky, flew them to the Nairobi ranch, amazed them with a dinner that any U.S. hostess might have been proud of— cocktails and caviar, soup, fish, roast turkey (the best I ever tasted), tiny new fresh peas, potatoes, salad, ice cream with strawberries and coffee.” The spell of Africa for Frederick Trubee Davison is of far longer standing than his short tenure of the museums presidency. It goes back 20 of his 37 years to the time his rich father, the late Henry Pomeroy Davison, avid angler and huntsman, returned from an African shooting trip with tales that made the boy’s eyes pop. Some day, he vowed, he would go there too. The idea lay dormant but alive in his mind all the while he drove an ambulance in France in 1915, learned to fly, served as Lieutenant in U. S. N. Air Service, broke his back, made a plucky recovery, launched upon a career of public service aboard a $4,500,000 endowment from his father, became Assistant Secretary of War for Aeronautics under President Hoover. When the Democratic landslide carried him out of the sub-Cabinet into the American Museum’s presidency, his old interest in Africa snapped awake. But first he got busy with his job at home. He cot a $650,000 loan from Reconstruction” Finance Corp. for the planetarium which his predecessor, Dr. Henry Fairfield Osborn, had long planned. He got his able sub-cabinet publicity man, Hans Adamson, to be the museum’s publicity man. . devised a system of alternately closed halls which shook off an impending deficit (TIME March 27). Now for another four months he will live his boyhood dream with gun, camera, airplane and railway put-put (see cut), popping when he feels like it at the sacred beast of the Republican Party.

Pets or Prison

Follicular mange is incurable in dogs, contagious to humans. When the New York S P. C. A. heard that all 19 of Mrs Evelyn Powelson’s Pekingese dogs had the disease, its agents called at her Bronx apartment, asked permission to destroy them. Mrs. Powelson, 50, refused moved to a new address. Last week the S.P.C.A. traced her there, haled her into court. A magistrate allowed her to choose between death for the dogs and six months in jail for herself. She chose jail. After 15 minutes in a cell she changed her mind, tearfully signed a death warrant for her 19 mangy pets.

Dog Ring Etiquet

In the U. S. are some 1,200 persons licensed by the American Kennel Club to judge at dog shows. Most of them are amateur dog-lovers who judge for fun and expenses; a few are rich enough to serve only for fun. About 100 make the work pay, though only 40 or so of these are all-breed experts who depend on judging for a substantial income. Even these must usually work part-time at something else, which may be anything except selling dogs, dog food or supplies. Fees range from $50 to $200 plus expenses, with the best judges making not much more than $2,500 a year.

”The position of judge of dogs is one not to be entered upon lightly,” says the A. K. C. It publishes an imposing body of rules & regulations and a handbook on Pure-Bred Dogs which it expects judges to master. Last week in the August American Kennel Gazette the Club added to these a ‘”Code of Ethics” for judges.

Put a show dog in the ring and he will pose like a bathing beauty. He is there to display himself and seems to know it. Spectators often wonder why some judges do as much posing as the dogs. The new code explains.

The A. K. C. scorns the person who becomes a judge simply to get in the limelight. But once he gets in the limelight, counsels the code, let him make the most of it. Let him never forget that “the judge is essentially a showman.” average dog show cannot carry on unless there is a paying gate. There will be no gate unless the customers get their money’s worth of entertainment. It is up to the judge to give it to them.

As to his person, let him dress the part. He should not smoke while handling dogs. And let him never, never enter the ring while under the influence of liquor. “Whatever our views may be as to temperance, we believe it wiser for a judge to indulge in the use of alcoholic stimulant only after his work has been completed.”

As to showmanship, the judge should first let the dogs be paraded jauntily around the ring. Then he should have them spaced at even intervals, proceed to his examination. A good judge will probably weed out hopeless specimens during the parade. But he should not forget that every exhibitor has paid an entry fee, thinks his dog has a chance to win. So let the judge at least pretend to give each dog a thorough examination.

The new code might better have been labeled one of etiquet instead of ethics. One of its two genuinely ethical precepts is pointed, obvious. The A. K. C. recognizes that not all dog exhibitors are sportsmen Some are not above tampering with judges If that is attempted the judge should report at once to the Club, which promises drastic punishment.

The other ethical injunction may seem strained to laymen. After accepting an invitation to serve at a show the judge is advised to retire into semi-seclusion, as far as dos shows are concerned, until time to enter the ring. Reasons: 1) the indispensable paying spectators will not attend dog shows if they suspect trickery; 2) knavish exhibitors believe all other exhibitors equally bad-intentioned.

*Shamba is a native word for garden. Shamba elephants are rogues which, splitting off from the herd to roam alone, will not only trample gardens and farms but have been known to attack human beings without provocation.