Zoo History: Jumbo

“The elephant destined to become the most famous animal in the world was captured as a youngster, probably in Ethiopia in 1861, sold to a Bavarian animal dealer, sold again to the menagerie at the Jardin des Plantes in Paris, then exchanged for an Indian rhinoceros and shipped to the London Zoo, where he arrived on 26 June 1865, half-starved, incredibly filthy, and covered with sore.  

His name was Jumbo…”

~ David Hancocks, A Different Nature: The Paradoxical World of Zoos and Their Uncertain Future

Thus began the life of perhaps the most famous elephant to ever walk the face of the Earth.  Jumbo was perhaps the first zoo celebrity.  Famed for his massive size (even for an elephant) Jumbo stood 11 feet six inches tall at the shoulder.  His tremendous growth was fueled by a ravenous appetite: his keepers fed him 200 pounds of hay, bushels of oats and yams, over a dozen loaves of bread, and several buckets of apples, oranges, onions, and figs every day, washed down with swigs of whiskey and water.  The great pachyderm earned his keep, in part, by carting small children around on his broad back.  Jumbo would have been a big boy by any standards, but to a nation that was just becoming acquainted with elephant, he must have been a true behemoth.

Managing a bull elephant is a challenge even in the modern zoo setting, so in Victorian England one can only imagine the problems Jumbo could pose.  Little was known of elephant biology back then, so when Jumbo began showing what his keepers described as “fits of insanity”, the zoo became alarmed.  Traditionally, it was assumed that these rages were musth, the sexual rut that turns normally placid bull elephants into sex-crazed smash monsters.  Later examination of Jumbo’s remains revealed that they were likely caused by impacted molars, the result on his improper diet.  At any rate, all the keepers of the London Zoo knew was that Jumbo was scary when he was mad.  And he was getting mad more and more often…

Jumbo and his keeper Matthew (sometimes listed as Michael) Scott at the London Zoo

When American showman P.T. Barnum offered to take the problematic pachyderm off of London’s hands for $10,000, the zoo thought it’s problems were solved.  In reality, they were just beginning.

All of England was outraged.  Everyone, from school children to members of Parliament, decried the sale and fought tooth and nail to keep Jumbo in London.  Barnum was not swayed.  “Fifty millions of American citizens anxiously awaiting Jumbo’s arrival!” he declared in the face of the pleas of British citizens.  The deal was done.  No one, however, had explained it to Jumbo.  The elephant refused to go.

It’s hard enough to move an elephant these days when it doesn’t want to move.  Imagine doing it without modern technology on your side to even the odds!  After several days of trying to coax and cajole Jumbo into his shipping crate, the cause was suspected.  Matthew Scott, Jumbo’s keeper, was said to be giving his charge secret hand signs to stay put.   The only keeper who could manage Jumbo in his rages, Scott had a lot to lose if Jumbo left for America, as he profited heavily off of the elephant rides that he presided over.  This in turn had made Scott unpopular with the zoo administrators, and it is likely that, without Jumbo, they might have decided that they didn’t need him any longer.  A suspicious Barnum decided to offer Scott a job with him in America.  Coincidentally, Jumbo immediately decided to enter his shipping crate and sail for America.

Jumbo was everything that was promised in America, and he became the star of Barnum’s circus, traveling about the country in his own private rail car.  His newfound success was short-lived, however; on September 15^th, 1885, a runaway train in Ontario struck Jumbo.  The elephant was big, but the train as bigger.  

Barnum was as quick to profit off the elephant in death as he was in life, selling the bones and the heart and mounting the skin, stuffing it so much that its height was increased by a foot.  He touted the story of how Jumbo had died, supposedly saving the life of his beloved elephant traveling companion by leaping in front of the train.

Jumbo's body being prepared at Ward's Natural Science.  The famed taxidermist Carl Akley, then an apprentice at Ward's, worked on stuffing the body.

Jumbo never sired any children, but his legacy lives on in his name.  You see, he wasn’t named after the word “Jumbo”, meaning “big” – the synonym for big comes from his name.  Every time we speak of jumbo jets or watch the jumbotron at a sporting event, we pay unwitting tribute to the magnificent African elephant that captivated two nations and became a legend in his own time.