by Norma Gutteridge
This story is based on a report of an incident I read about some years ago
When Bill Zimmerman was offered a polar bear cub, believed to be six weeks old, he could hardly believe it. He had never come close to obtaining one, even though he earned his living training animals and supplying them to the Hollywood film studios, and his firm was the largest and most successful in the business. He had once been asked to supply such a bear, and he had gone to the length of peroxiding the fur of a brown one to fill the order because acquiring a real one was impossible. Now here was an actual polar bear cub being offered for a reasonable price by someone he had never met or even heard of.
“How do I know this is for real?” he asked his caller, as he sat back, feet on desk, receiver in one hand, cigar in the other.
“I will bring him for you to inspect. Give me your address.”
“Twenty Solomon,” said Bill. “How did you get him? Shoot his mother?”
“I am not prepared to say how I acquired him. The point is that he is here in Los Angeles and I’m offering him to you.”
“Okay, bring him along. Now if you like. I’ll be here till midday.”
Sure enough, an hour later, Bill’s secretary Janet ushered in his caller who was, with difficulty, carrying a decrepit crate containing the cub.
“Hi. My name is, as I think I told you, John Tilbury. I will take a cheque or cash but I want the money now. “
“Hang on a minute. Let’s see the goods on offer. If he’s a cub he won’t be dangerous. Let him out of the crate….” before it falls to pieces,” he felt like adding.
“Very well.”
Tilbury unlatched the crate and opened the door. Slowly and suspiciously a little white ball of fur inched its way out of the crate and stood blinking in a shaft of sunlight, in stark contrast to the dark- wood floor.
He’s a beauty,” exclaimed Bill. “I presume he is a male?”
“He is.”
“Have you given him a name?”
“No. That’s up to you if and when you buy him.”
“I’ll just get my vet to look him over. I told him you were coming. Oh here he is…” as Adam Kerchinski entered the room. “Here’s our cub Adam, what do you think of him?”
Adam leaned down and picked up the animal. He turned him this way and that and the tiny white bundle lay supine in his hands. “I’ll just take him along to the examination room, weigh him, listen to his heart and all that kind of thing. You can come with me,” he added as he saw John about to protest.
The two of them left and Bill wrote the cheque. He had no doubt that the cub would receive a clean bill of health as he thought he knew a fit animal when he saw one. Sure enough, Adam was soon back with John and the cub and the news that the animal seemed to be in first class condition. Also, he was, for some reason, extremely placid.
“He was almost certainly born in captivity,” said Adam. “He’s used to being handled by humans.”
Seeing the cheque in Bill’s hands, John snatched it and was gone before the other two men could say a word.
“Well, what happened there?” asked Adam in bewilderment.
“I rather think our friend wanted to be gone before we could ask him any questions. He may well have stolen the animal. If we hear of a missing polar bear cub, we’ll give him back, but until then, he’s ours and he’ll be trained. As you know, I’ve wanted one like him for years. I’m not going to part with him too easily now. What shall we name him?”
“Hm.” Adam stroked his chin. “What about Polo?”
“Polo the polar bear. That sounds about right. Good thinking. Now let’s find him a home.”
He called in Janet, who started to coo over Polo still sitting in Adam’s arms.
“Never mind about petting him,” Bill told Janet. “Get rid of that apology for a crate. Put it in the garbage. Tell him what we’ve done if he enquires about it.”
But they never heard from John Tilbury again — if indeed that was his name — nor were there any reports of a stolen bear cub.
Polo thrived under the excellent care afforded by Adam and his two nurses. He received the correct amount of the fat-rich milk Adam was able to find, as polar bear cubs are not weaned until they are two. He also had access to a large pond. There was no ice, but the water was kept at a cool 35 degrees Farenheit. He grew and thrived.
Bill had animal trainers on his staff or on call –- behaviour specialists for dogs, cats, monkeys, bears, goats, reptiles, and even birds. He had once kept lions and tigers, but since the studios had stopped making Tarzan movies, he had sold them off. They were expensive to keep and rarely asked for. He decided he would train Polo himself.
Polo took to Bill and his training with alacrity. He seemed to love his trainer and would snuggle up to him, rub his head under Bill’s chin and allow Bill to do anything with him. He was soon jumping through hoops, running on a treadmill, and standing to attention when shown the Stars and Stripes. He obeyed orders and seemed to enjoy everything he was asked to do.
He grew rapidly over the next two years and Bill hoped that his six-foot-six companion, who weighed over a thousand pounds, would soon be facing the camera. Indeed he had heard via the Hollywood grapevine that a movie was to be made about the snow-bound northern regions — one of the few to be set in such territory. It was time that Polo began earning his keep. He was an expensive animal to shelter and feed.
The phone call came sooner than expected. The movie’s producer told Bill that the film would be shot on location, in Canada’s north, and would contain a pivotal scene of a confrontation between an actor and a polar bear.
“I’ve heard that you actually have a tame polar bear,” he said “How’d that come about?”
“He fell into my lap,” said Bill. “Not literally, but almost. He’s amazing. He’ll eat out of your hand and lick your face. “
“Ugh, rather Stuart James than me,” said the producer, referring to the actor who would star in the movie. “However, I want to book him for August next, preferably the whole month.”
“Great,” said Bill, writing down August 1-31. A month was a long time. His animals were usually booked for a couple of days – a week at most.
“Your bear and its handler will be booked on a flight to the city of Edmonton in the Canadian province of Alberta. They will be transferred twice thereafter, each time on a smaller plane, until they reach a place with the weird name of Toktoyaktuk – it’s very small, very cold, very isolated, but has some spectacular scenery. We’re building a settlement for our crew. They’ll be comfortable when indoors. Outdoors will be a different story.”
“That’s okay,” said Bill determined to be the one to accompany Polo. “Now what terms are we talking about?”
These were eventually settled, the contract was signed, and Bill agreed to train Polo in the actions that would be required of him in the movie. It was then September, so he had almost a year in which to ready Polo both for the long journey and his acting debut. Stuart James was invited to meet Polo so that the two could get used to each other before shooting started. Stuart, who was six feet in height, was shocked when introduced to an animal taller and several hundred pounds heavier than he was.
“Whoa – he’s kinda big, isn’t he?” said Stuart flinching and edging back as Polo reared up on his hind legs in front of him.
Polo reached out and patted Stuarts face with a paw measuring some six inches in diameter.
“He’s not fully grown yet,” Bill informed him. “He’ll put on another foot at least and perhaps another two or three hundred pounds. He’s a fine specimen, you have to admit that.”
“Er, yes, yes, he is,” said Stuart looking as though he would rather be anywhere on earth but standing within inches of Polo’s massive front legs and paws.
“My character is supposed to fight with him and knife him in the process?” he asked rhetorically? “Who’s going to believe that?”
“They’ll want you to win. Audiences always want the hero to win, and they always believe it and approve of it even when it would be screamingly impossible in real life.” Bill had studied cinema audiences and their reactions to how animals were portrayed in relation to humans.
“Oh yes. I suppose that’s true. We’ll have to hope it is.”
As the minutes ticked by, Polo lost interest in Stuart, and the actor straightened his tie and tried to pretend that he was thoroughly okay with sharing a small room with a giant wild animal.
Things improved as Stuart continued to come to Bill’s animal centre in his efforts to get to know Polo, and after a few weeks, he was accompanied the movie’s director. The latter asked Bill to train Polo in certain moves. He demonstrated what he wanted and the animal learned the actions over weeks and months until he was perfect in his simulations. Then Polo did what he’d been taught with Stuart instead of Bill, after some hesitation on Polo’s part – he was not sure Bill wanted him to do the moves with someone else – but then all went smoothly. He allowed Stuart to lightly wrestle with him and to pretend stab him in the heart with a clenched fist that would hold a knife in a separate shot. When Stuart’s fist hit his chest, Polo would, as he had been trained to do, fall to the ground and play dead until he was told to get up again.
A huge crate had been manufactured to contain Polo on his flight to northern Canada. Bill and the crate would travel separately from the cast and crew members. A settlement, almost as big as its host town, had been erected to house the camera people, the lighting people, the sound people, the wardrobe people, and the props people, as well as the director, production staff, and actors. A special place had been prepared for Polo, whose name would also appear in the credits. His appearance and death would be a central part of the movie. Since the director and scriptwriter had learned of Polo’s ability, his part had been extended.
All went well on the flight to Edmonton. Polo’s crate had been lifted into the cargo hold where he promptly fell asleep. When it was unloaded at Edmonton’ International Airport, its inhabitant was the source of wonder and some fear to the workers who saw what was in it. A polar bear? Wow!
A truck was waiting to take Bill and his crate to the City Airport, some miles distant. Arrived there, once again it was loaded onto the plane that would take them to Inuvik from whence they would again fly on to Toktoyaktuk.
Bill was entranced by the scenery down below as the plane flew steadily northward. He had never been further north than Washington State, and had no idea that there were mountains and forests stretching for hundreds of miles. Then the scenery changed again as they neared the Arctic circle. He was a little tired when they landed in Inuvik, where a cold wind whipped his hair across his face as he descended from the aircraft.
Once again the large crate was unloaded and put on another plane, this time quite a small one. Two rows of seats had to be taken out to allow for the crate to be taken on board for the relatively short flight to Toktoyaktuk. Bill was almost exhausted when the plane circled round and made a perfect landing on the small airstrip.
This time, there were people from the film company to meet him, which was just as well as they helped the locals who had some difficulty in getting such a large and heavy crate off the plane with the equipment available. More muscle was added to the job.
Finally the crate stood on the tarmac as the men got their breath and stretched their arms and legs, and Polo gave a pathetic little cry.
Bill was stricken. If he was tired and irritable, how must Polo feel, who had no idea what was happening. He made a decision and walked over to where the crate stood a few feet from the aircraft. He unlocked it and opened the door. Polo was obviously pleased to see him. As soon as he was free, he stood on his hind legs and patted Bill’s face. The men who had helped unload him, began to retreat when they saw him free. What was his owner thinking to let the bear out of its crate? He was supposed to be tame, but bears were ornery creatures. No one ever knew what they might do.
Bill had no such fears. He stroked Polo’s chest and spoke to him in the special voice he always used with him. Polo rubbed his head against Bill’s face and then …began to sniff. He dropped down onto his four legs, shook himself, and lifted his head. He took in deep breaths and uttered little yelps and chirrups He began to dance about. He positively frolicked. He made all sorts of sounds Bill had never heard from him before.
Then, before anyone could say or do a thing, he began to run towards the sea, which was about a hundred yards from the airstrip.
Bill, taken by surprise, called “Polo come back. Polo.”
But Polo kept running. He ran over the cinder track beside the airstrip, across the road, and onto the beach where the incoming tide was lapping up against the rocks.
Bill ran after him, still calling him and telling him to come back, but Polo wasn’t listening. With one huge roar as he reached the ocean, he ran into it, diving under the waves, as soon as he could, never to be seen by humans again. He had found his element, the Beaufort Sea, where his ancestors had lived out their lives over thousands of years. Deep had called unto deep.
Bill stopped running the moment he saw Polo plunge into the sea. He knew it was the end of a beautiful friendship and felt his heart breaking as he turned and walked back to face all the problems and complexities there would be with the film people. Yet underneath the swelling sorrow, he felt a little surge of satisfaction and pride. His Polo was now a real polar bear.
The end
Copyright © Norma Gutteridge, September, 2020
Life is interesting 