Reptile Gardens just lost its last link to the past, Marv Basham (1917-2011). Until yesterday, Marv was the last person still around who was here on opening day in June of 1937. He had helped build our original buildings and did a lot of other things back in the day when the crew consisted of just a handful of people and everyone did whatever was needed.

Even though they were considered a bit old, when World War 2 started Earl Brockelsby and Marv Basham immediately enlisted – Marv in the Navy and Earl in the Army. Upon returning from the war the men set about getting the Reptile Gardens back into shape and better than ever. This included a greatly expanded main building and a reptile house, all covered in native stone – designed by Earl with Marv as working foreman.

As Marv’s family grew he knew he needed a bit more income than a budding reptile zoo could offer so left to work at Coast-to-Coast Hardware in Rapid City. When we began our move to our current location due to the relocation of Highway 16, the first person Earl thought of was Marv. His tremendous skills and knowledge about building, machinery, and tools would be invaluable to the now growing facility. So, in 1964, Marv returned to his roots.

Marv always made sure everything was working: heat and air conditioning in all our buildings, our wells and pumps, lighting, plumbing, restaurant equipment, and more. He never for a moment hesitated to come out late at night or on his day off or both, in blizzards and heat waves, to fix some critical piece of equipment. His only concern was that our animals would not be at risk and our Guests would be comfortable.

Over the years, Marv repaired pretty much everything on the property, built countless animal enclosures and gift shop display cases, oversaw and did much of the work on new areas and buildings. Back when we picked up the crews for each shift, Marv drove the crew car for the early shift every morning (sometimes arriving at someone’s door a bit earlier than they might have liked especially after a long night, as college kids on summer vacation are wont to do).

At one point, Marv and his wife Hazel (who also worked at the Gardens for many years) decided to retire and move to Oregon. Shortly after they got out there Marv knew where his heart was and they promptly returned to Rapid City. Marv once again took up his post at the Reptile Gardens.

Although he slowly backed off the more strenuous tasks over the years, Marv showed up at work every day until just a couple years ago. Even at 90 he was here every day of the week to do whatever he could, which up until his late 80’s included things like climbing ladders to replace burned out ballasts in the fluorescent light fixtures.

Marv is already missed by all of us who knew him. The Reptile Gardens would not be what it is today without Marv’s dedication and skills. Rest in Peace dear friend.

Marv Basham is a post from: Scales & Tales

Methuselah in 1970

On Sunday 9 July 2011 we were all saddened by the loss of our old friend and long-time animal resident, Methuselah the giant Galapagos Tortoise.

Methuselah arrived at Reptile Gardens in December of 1954 from the Galapagos Islands off the coast of Ecuador, South America. He was flown to Miami and then transported by train to Rapid City. Thankfully, the crews of the rail freight company took good care of him, keeping him warm as he traveled from Florida to South Dakota in the dead of winter. He arrived in good health and adapted to life in South Dakota quite well. He joined a growing herd of giant tortoises already at the Reptile Gardens. The herd was made up of both Galapagos tortoises and Aldabra tortoises from the Seychelles Islands off the coast of Madagascar.

Earl Brockelsby obtained his first giant tortoise in 1949, a large Aldabra tortoise. Several other tortoises were added over the next few years. In the fall of 1954 an animal dealer in Florida contacted Earl to let him know he had been offered a very large Galapagos tortoise that had just been taken from the Galapagos by a dealer in Peru. Earl did not hesitate and jumped at the chance to obtain the big tortoise even though the cost for this tortoise plus transportation was many times higher than any of the others he had recently purchased.

In the 50’s and early 60’s, our herd of tortoises numbered around 20. At one point, we sent all the female tortoises we had to a facility in Florida where they were added to a captive breeding program. Over the years, our most elderly tortoises slowly died off until Methuselah was the last one remaining here from our original group.

Those of us who worked with the tortoises on a daily basis learned each one’s personality, their habits, preferences, and behaviors. Methuselah, honestly, always had the most personality. He was smart and knew how to get what he wanted.  He could be cunning even. Sometimes you could tell he was thinking, as though he was formulating some plan.

For a while, in the 1970’s, he was nicknamed “Earl” by some of our staff members, after our founder Earl Brockelsby.  Some of you may remember him by that name. But, over the years as he continued to hang in there and outlive his peers, we went back to Methuselah as it seemed so appropriate.

We estimate, based on our visitation figures, that Methuselah contacted well over 12 million visitors in his 56 years here at Reptile Gardens.  There are tens of thousands of photos of Methuselah and our visitors out there. Many of you have been sharing your photos with us in the days since his death. We have been enjoying seeing them, and thanks for the memories. It is fun to know that old tortoise made such an impression on so many people.

Methuselah is survived by his two tortoise yard mates, Tank and Quasi, two large male Aldabra tortoises. If it happens that other adult giant tortoises become available from zoos or breeding programs we may add one or two friends for Tank and Quasi. But for now, even though Methuselah’s passing has left a big hole in our lives, his two pals are here ready to meet our visitors and give them that same rare chance to see one of the world’s most remarkable animals up close.

Methuselah – Reptile Gardens’ Beloved Mascot for 56 years. is a post from: Scales & Tales

Ray Pawley in his younger days.

Next year, 2012, Reptile Gardens will be celebrating its 75th anniversary. You know what that means? We are planning a fun staff reunion to celebrate this momentous anniversary.

The main reunion event will be held on Saturday, 30 June 2012 at the Rushmore Plaza Holiday Inn from 5PM to 12AM. Along with that, there will be things going on all weekend at the Reptile Gardens. Details to follow as we get them planned. We have 50 rooms blocked out at the Rushmore Plaza for any out-of-towners who would like to stay there.

One of our 1960's talent shows

There are so many hundreds of you out there. We know who you are and have contacts for many of you. However, there are so many we don’t have any contact info for. So please get in touch with us via the reunion form below or any other way. If you know any former RG staffers, please let them know about this and have them get in touch.

Please contact Virginia with any questions or suggestions you have. You can call her at the Reptile Gardens, 605-342-5873 or email her via our web site using this special reunion link:

http://www.reptilegardens.com/reunion/

By the way, we will need to know who is coming so please RSVP to Virginia by 1 May of 2012.

A day in the Badlands for John, Marshall, and Francie

75 YEARS AND GOING STRONG! CALLING ALL FORMER & CURRENT REPTILE GARDENS STAFF MEMBERS is a post from: Scales & Tales

*Propping open the mouth of a dead alligator with the Sunday newspaper inside & setting it outside a friend’s  home…a friend who also happened to be the publisher of the Rapid City Journal.

*Mixing mealworms in a spaghetti dinner or dropping tadpoles in his sister’s fresh-squeezed lemonade. (She never forgave him for ruining her hard work.)

*Dropping frozen rattlesnakes in the snow in a Colorado park for the alarm it would cause when the snow melted.

*Draping a dead 20-foot python in a tree in a Tucson, Arizona park.

*Switching the keys on a friend’s typewriter.

*Covering all the windows of his gift shop manager’s house with tarpaper during the night so it stayed dark in the house, then chewing him out for being late to work the next morning.

…and many many more

Earl was, in turn, the victim at times as well. Four friends, who had been on the receiving end of many of Earl’s jokes, were determined to get him back. Just before first light one morning in the early 1950’s they trucked a three-ton limestone boulder to Earl’s newly constructed home on Jackson Blvd.

The original plan had been to drop the rock square in the center of the driveway while the concrete was still wet so it would sink in and not only block entrance to the garage but also necessitate tearing out the entire driveway.

The men’s wives absolutely would not allow a joke they considered too mean so the rock was dumped in the driveway after the concrete had cured. And it did prevent Earl from getting to work on time that morning. The rock stayed in the yard next to the driveway until the house, later a golf course clubhouse, was demolished in 2002. It was brought to Reptile Gardens at that time and can be seen on here on the grounds.

Gift Shop Manager, Joe Maierhauser Sr (left) and artist Lee Logan put in place the finishing touch - a commemorative sign.

Practical Jokes at Reptile Gardens is a post from: Scales & Tales

With all this work going on in the Dome I was reminded of when it was built and of the big tree that is still the centerpiece. This is an article that ran in the Rapid City Journal in 1964.

Back When the Sky Dome was New is a post from: Scales & Tales

By the way, we aren’t anywhere near closing yet.  We’re open until the end of the year.

Those of us who work here all year around frequently hear this question come fall:  ”S’pose you’re all set to loaf for the winter?  You are closed now, right? All your animals hibernate don’t they?”

Well, what do we do all winter?  Loaf?  Travel?  All fun and games?  I’ll admit we do take it a bit easier in some ways.  We get to travel to some exotic places, take more time off.  But none of our animals hibernate and there are fewer of us to take care of the hundreds of animals and all the plants we have here at the Gardens.

And, in the winter, we do get to work shorter days and we take a full half hour for lunch, luxuriating in the knowledge that nothing demands our instant attention as soon as we’ve gulped down a sandwich.  Right at first this self-indulgence makes us feel a little guilty, but before long we get used to a life of ease.

After all, winter is a long time.  And each fall, secure in this knowledge, we draw up a list of all the projects we’d like to get done.  We vow to do things differently this winter and actually get it all done.  Even by mid-winter we’re still blissfully optimistic, though we go over the list and chop off many of the non-essential items.  Then suddenly one day, even as the snow flies, comes the stomach-tightening realization that the long, lazy winter is gone and opening time is only a few brief weeks away.  The list is forgotten, the eight-day week returns, and the frenzied painting, cleaning, mopping-up, waxing, and polishing starts.

If we have time to look back there are small satisfactions.  By ignoring how short the winters really are we did manage to get a few pet projects done.  But the rest will have to wait.  And we start to feel that perhaps there may be some justice in the assumption that we loaf all winter.  After all, where did the time go, and why did we get so little done?

Of course we did spend two weeks selling New Guinea artifacts at the Tucson Gem and Mineral show, added some flowerbeds, and built some new reptile exhibits.  We spent days and days using up 50 or 60 gallons of paint, many pounds of nails and screws, and hundreds of board feet of lumber on repairs. We hired a crew for the summer.  We got in, priced, and shelved over a million dollars’ worth of merchandise. We designed all the flower plantings for the summer, ordered a year’s worth of caladium bulbs, bromeliads, and orchids.  And we…but there’s no more time for that, we’ve got to git to gittin’.

Once the first of January comes we’ll have to be ready to open again in only 3 months.  Then…oops…it will be down to a couple of weeks.  We’ll be wondering once again, like every spring for the past 74 years, where all the months went.  But, like always, we’ll be ready for our Guests when the doors open on April 1.  But for now, come see us before we’re knee-deep in snow and we get busy on our projects for next year.

You Guys Have It Easy Out There Now That The Tourists Are Gone is a post from: Scales & Tales

The beginnings of what was to become the United Nations were set in motion back in 1941. By 1942 the term United Nations, coined by Franklin Roosevelt, was first used. Over the next few years the UN Charter was created and ratified and a search was begun for a place to house this new international organization.

Many locales vied for the UN complex. In the end, the final 5 contenders were: a location in Queens, New York, two locations in New York City, Navy Island in Ontario, Canada, and the Black Hills of South Dakota. The South Dakota location that had been selected for the UN was a pretty little valley just a few miles south of Rapid City along Spring Creek. It was ultimately decided that putting this huge complex in the center of the US in a rural area with minimal infrastructure did not make much sense. So, the current site in New York was selected and ground was broken in 1949. Less than 20 years after the Black Hills location was rejected, that same valley would become the new home of Reptile Gardens! We were forced to relocate when Highway 16 had to be moved in order to make it a 4-lane highway.

Recently, Reptile Gardens’ board member, Marshall Young found this 1945 design plan for the Black Hills United Nations complex in his grandfather’s papers. It isn’t hard to imagine how different not only Reptile Gardens valley would be but Rapid City and the entire Black Hills if this site had been selected. The area would be home to millions of people from all over the world, Rapid City would be a major metropolitan area, and many Black Hills towns would likely be absorbed into the Rapid City metro area. You can see on the plan it was also suggested each member country build a small town in its own style in various valleys around the Hills.

Design concept from 1945 for the Black Hills United Nations complex.

Next time you come down the hill into Reptile Gardens valley, picture it filled with that huge United Nations complex and what that would mean for your vacation or for our little corner of the world.

Reptile Gardens…or United Nations? is a post from: Scales & Tales

Mac the Scarlet Macaw posing for one of his many portraits

On Wednesday, 10 March, we lost one of the very few living creatures that has been at Reptile Gardens longer than even us long-timers, Mac our Scarlet Macaw.

Like most parrots in the days before wildlife laws and captive breeding, Mac was captured in the wild, in South America. He was brought to the US in the early 1950’s and arrived here at Reptile Gardens as a large adult bird in 1956. We estimate his age at the time of his death to have been over 70 years.  He was a huge, brightly-colored bird loaded with personality. In fact in regards to his size, many parrot breeders and bird fanciers remarked that he was the largest scarlet macaw they had ever seen.

Mac achieved legendary status here at the Gardens once we moved down to our new location in 1965. At that time, he spent his summer days outside on a perch in our prairie dog town, which was right next to our snake show arena. He loved it outside. He would sit on his perch and talk, squawk, and “perform” for Guests. Sometimes he would climb down and wander around the prairie dog town, even chasing a prairie dog now and then just for the fun of it. After years spent listening to the snake show he was able to recite most, if not all, of the 20-minute snake show word for word. He could speak much more clearly than most macaws.

Mac in the Sky Dome

One of his favorite things to do was to act demure and quietly wait for an unsuspecting Guest or staff member to wander nearby. Or if that didn’t work he would calmly say “Come here” to get his victim to come move in closer. As soon as he felt the person was sufficiently near and lulled into complacency or not paying attention to him, he would let loose with one of those amazing filling-rattling, eardrum-shattering screams for which macaws are known. This would, of course, cause his victim to jump nearly to the ceiling and cover their ears, which would then result in Mac laughing in a human laugh…really. As a result of this hobby, Mac added a considerable number of cuss words to his already huge vocabulary.

This was not a bird to be trifled with that is for certain. I have seen him splinter a broom stick with ease and bend metal food dishes into modern art. He was not generally fond of men, especially men with facial hair and had moments in his younger days when he could be quite aggressive toward them. Apparently, at some point in his life before he arrived here, something happened involving a bearded man that he never forgot.  He could fool a novice Dome Guide or bird staff member into thinking their lives were in danger by simply striking a pose. Don’t tell anyone but our fearless reptile curator, Terry Phillip, known for his skills with deadly venomous snakes – the man who risks his life daily in the jaws of death – was once chased onto a table screaming like a baby and reduced to a puddle of fear by a mere bird: Mac the Scarlet Macaw.

For the past decade or so Mac has spent his days on a perch in the Safari Room of our Sky Dome. There, partially hidden among the jungle plants, he delighted Guests with his antics and was the subject of countless photos.  New Safari Room guides would often wonder who was saying “Hello” and “Come here.” when they could see no one in the room. He would sit and mutter to himself, occasionally embarrassing a parent with young children. Of course, he still took pleasure in startling an unwary passerby with his shriek.

Reptile Gardens will not be the same without Mac. Our staff, even the guys, loved Mac and the history he represented here. Year after year, Mac consistently scored as one of the top favorite animals in our Guest surveys. Sadly, in the last couple of years Mac had begun to show his age. He was losing his eyesight and his energy. Our veterinarian did all she could but ultimately he just couldn’t fight the good fight anymore. The staff of Wildlife Experiences has been caring for Mac, and our other parrots, for some years now. I know they too are much saddened by his death after working so closely with him for so long. Whether you know it is coming or not, it is always heartbreaking when we lose one of our animal residents, especially one you have known for so very long.

Mac was never in a show or trained to do tricks. His status as a senior member of our staff was established early and he always got to do just what he wanted. This impressive bird will live on in the tens of thousands of photos taken of him over the past half a century plus that he spent here keeping us on our toes and enriching our lives.

Mac on his outside perch in the early 1970's

Mac the Scarlet Macaw is a post from: Scales & Tales

This week I am posting a column written 44 years ago by long-time Reptile Gardens General Manager, Jim Campbell. In 1965, Reptile Gardens ran a series of newspaper columns in celebration of the move to our new location on Highway 16. For our first 28 years we had been closer to town but  were forced to move when the highway was widened and moved.

Right smack in the center of the giant dome at the new Reptile Gardens there is a huge, gnarled pine tree, some forty feet high.  And lots of it is underground to keep it from falling over.

Cavorting, or resting, in the tree are lizards, monkeys, snakes, and hundreds of beautiful birds from all over the world. [Over the years we tried a lot of different animals in the Safari Room, including monkeys, muntjacs, wallabies, giant fruit bats, and, free roaming iguanas and snakes. Some worked and many did not. JM]

Several times daily someone asks casually, “Where did the tree come from, was it already here?”  When we tell them “No, we had to move it in,” it is always with the feeling that if they really knew the whole story they might be less casual about it.

At least to someone not in the tree moving business, it was quite a chore.  First, Earl Brockelsby selected the tree, down over a hill on Skyline Drive, after several months’ search.  After obtaining permission to move the tree, we selected a day for moving.  Needed were eight or ten men, a huge lowboy truck, and the biggest truck crane available.  Moving day dawned clear and windy.  Gusts to…50 miles per hour.

Some superfluous limbs were trimmed away, the crane hooked up, and then a fearless (or foolish, I haven’t decided which) workman volunteered to sever the trunk with a chain saw.  And then things happened fast.  The wind caught the tree as it came free and it started down the hill, lifting the wheels on the far side of the crane completely off the ground.

I recall seeing the man with the chain saw running for his life and I decided to take a vacation myself in the opposite direction, when I saw the crane men rushing to the crane and jumping on the high side.  I recall thinking how silly this looked, but I didn’t want to seem chicken, so I joined them.  But it helped, and this along with some quick action by the crane operator kept the whole mess from winding up in the bottom of the canyon.  From then on it was just a lot of slow, careful work to load the tree and plant it where it now is.

The crane crew was very offhand about the whole thing, but I can still see that huge tree dancing in the wind whenever someone asks about it.  And the worst was the suggestion of the dome designer who found the tree to be such a hindrance to his planning that he suggested we cut it up for kindling.  Not on your life.  We’ll defend that tree to the death.

[After the fire in 1976 the tree still stood, with the collapsed dome structure around it.  It was a bit shorter and singed but still there. Now it is covered with our huge bougainvillea vine. JM]

HOW TO CARE FOR A DEAD TREE is a post from: Scales & Tales