In the tradition of the participatory journalism of George Plimpton, Jim Klobuchar and Marjorie Burns, the incomparable Joe Soucheray, then a bright young reporter for the, um, Enemy Paper, described his ride aboard a circus elephant more than 30 summers ago. Not much of a column, by Joe’s standards. But, oh, get a load of that photo, Garage Logicians! Sooch looks better on a pachyderm than, say, former St. Paul Mayor Jim Scheibel.

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Joe Soucheray

A steady rain was falling on the circus train the morning of the customary parade. The animal handlers occasionally peeked out from the cars and then disappeared again into the matted straw. You could hear them in there mumbling, and then suddenly shouting in some strange tongue, German mostly, “Ach Lutzi! Back Lutzi!” A llama peered out and raised its head to the hundreds of people assembled in the rain, waiting, as it was in the old days I imagine.

There were camels and horses and llamas and 18 Asian elephants, and they all had to be walked from the old Minnehaha train siding to Metropolitan Sports Center. Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey always walk their animals from the rail siding to the place of entertainment. It is good for business. When the show plays New York City, the elephants are walked through Lincoln Tunnel where Irvin Feld, president of the circus, grandly pays a quarter toll for each animal.

Joe Soucheray, all of 26 years old. (Minneapolis Tribune photo by Kent Kobersteen)

A red and white calliope fired up at the head of the string, and Axel Gautier, Ringling’s elephant trainer for 17 years, called in German to his elephants. They are called bull elephants, but all are female. The males are too ornery under the spotlights. The females quietly shook their heads and sucked water from the ground with their trunks.

“You ride Susan,” Axel told me.

“Right,” I said. “Which one is Susan?”

Axel looked disappointed in me. “Here,” Axel said. “Good elephant. Sit way up on her head.”

Susan and the rest of the herd knelt. There were eight of us riding. I was told to step on the chain that joined Susan at the neck with Lutzi. Neither the chain nor my foot seemed to bother Susan. She was a patient beast, 30 years old and somewhat independent. She refused to hold the tail of the elephant in front of us.

The calliope steamed and played circus music and we shuffled off down 52nd St. to 28th Av. S.

“Hey Rama,” people called to me. “Hey Tarzan, hey Rama, hey Bimbo.”

“Gunther,” I corrected. “Call me Gunther.”

Elephants may be the most powerful of jungle animals but they are the gentlest and most easily disciplined. Axel said they love to entertain, to please people. An elephant’s trunk has 22 muscles in it and can break a man in half by slapping him. Axel taught his elephants to untie shoelaces with their trunks.

All along the parade route small children lined the street. They thought I was in the circus, and I did nothing to discourage them. When a bicycle rider got too close to Susan’s feet I pointed my finger and warned him: “Stay back kid, one time in Omaha this elephant ate a boy your size, ate his 10-speed bike too.”

The trip was exactly 5.2 miles but took two hours. Axel walked alongside his animals and talked to them as though he were sharing some secret. Often he heard me pleading with Susan to stay on course, for she liked to strain Lutzi’s chain and wander near the curb. Elephants are nearsighted and feel their way through undergrowth with their trunks. There was no growth at 66th St., but Susan was determined to suck the gutters dry.

After an hour of riding my fantasies ceased. I felt as though I had been sitting on a used paint brush. We were offered a chance to dismount once, but when the other riders stayed on I stayed with them. Susan was getting desperate for water. Axel sent Jim Henry, another handler, over to walk by Susan’s side. He prodded her with a billy club and told her to be patient. We crossed Hwy. 494 at the 24th Av. bridge and marched to the sport center’s north side, where a man in blue coveralls had a garbage can full of water for each elephant. They bathed themselves and then sprayed us.

The elephants were cleaned and then housed in their outdoor tent. Girls in velvet capes and sequins would ride them like the wind. I could hardly walk. My legs were spasmatic. Axel watched me leave with a certain degree of disgust.

A tragic footnote: Trainer Axel Gautier died in a Florida hospital after he was knocked down and crushed by one of his elephants in 1993.

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