THE STORY OF TYKE THE ELEPHANT: AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY

 

The images are still vivid after more than three decades. I was only eleven but, even then, I could detect the juxtaposition of a mighty elephant adorned with brightly colored circus dressings laying dead in a parking lot in Honolulu. The horror hit me hard; an elephant had to be gunned down and a human life was lost. Her name was Tyke and her death, tragic as it was, brought about winds of change in the capture of exotic animals for entertainment.

Tyke was not the first circus elephant to run amuck. Just over two years before, a 27-year-old Asian elephant named Janet went ballistic under the big top in Palm Bay, Florida while carrying six volunteer spectators (most of them children) on her back. That incident ended without human tragedy, the riders were helped down to safety before Janet was put down. Nor was this rampage on August 20, 1994, Tyke’s first outburst.

Multiple times in 1993, Tyke had shown signs of pent up aggression brewing, throwing tantrums while performing in Pennsylvania and the North Dakota. And the aggression was justified. Stolen from her herd in Mozambique in 1973 as a calf, Tyke underwent decades of abusive training at the Hawthorne Corporation’s training facilities. Bullhooks and cattle prods were common instruments of punishment and Tyke was no stranger to their implementation. From early on Tyke was demonstrating a reluctance to perform.

After the rampage of August 1994, Brian McMillan, who had worked with Tyke over a decade earlier, recalled  this elephant being particularly stubborn and short-tempered.

“She would resist the training,” McMillan said. “She would run away when you tried to do anything with her. She just didn’t have a good attitude.”

She also seemed to hold grudges. Ever since having reportedly been beaten by mercilessly by trainer John Caudill for her misbehavior in North Dakota, Tyke would become notably agitated in Caudill’s presence.

In light of this, Allen Campbell, a veteran elephant trainer had to have known he was playing with fire when he took on Tyke. Though credited for bringing forth better care for elephants at the Denver Zoo, Campbell was known for his brutal disciplinary style of training that often resulted in visibly wounded animals being paraded in front of the public. Campbell had been warned by numerous other trainers of Tyke’s temperament but, maybe because decades of experience had bred false confidence, Campbell remained undeterred.

On August 20, 1994, Tyke was scheduled to perform with Circus International at the Neil Blaisdell Center in Honolulu. While the motorcycle stunt riders were performing their act, Tye was queued up further in the arena in preparation for her upcoming appearance. With her was groomer Dallas Beckwith who had been with Hawthorne (Tyke’s owners) for only a month. The audience could not see that trouble and very real danger was brewing.

Maybe it was the combination of stimulants (the noise, the lights and the crowd) or maybe it was sheer exhaustion, but Tyke was preparing for a rampage that would end in tragedy. The first object of Tyke’s rage was Beckwith. Trampling over the young man, Tyke stomped out into the arena with Beckwith caught beneath her legs. At first the audience seemed stunned and unsure what to make of the sight. A few would later state that they initially thought it part of the act. It didn’t take long for that notion to dispel and frightened spectators began pouring out of the arena despite announcements to remain seated.

Campbell rushed out in front of Tyke in an attempt to calm her down and given Beckwith a change to either escape or be helped away from her path. With ease Tyke knocked down Campbell and crushed him with her head. Leaving Beckwith and Campbell laying limp in the ring, Tyke next ran outside of the arena and into the Center’s parking lot.

Steve Hirano, a local who was covering the arrival of the circus, attempted to lock the garage gate to contain the angry elephant, but Tyke pushed the gate open with her skull and turned her aggression on Hirano. Luckily, a police officer stationed outside fired at the elephant and managed to turn her away from Hirano.

By now the police were responding in full force to the rampaging elephant while paramedics were arriving at the arena. For nearly half an hour, Tyke ran through the streets of Kakaʻako, terrifying drivers and pedestrians as she swiped through parked cars and caused thousands in damage.

Eventually the police managed to corner Tyke into a lot and it took about 87 bullets to bring her down, the elephant eventually dying of blood loss. The police are not to be blamed for the terrible way Tyke died. They reacted in the only way they could have reacted to save lives, especially for an attack they were unprepared respond to. No, Tyke was doomed the moment she was taken from her herd and made an object of amusement. Her brutal death was a horrible inevitability.

Dallas Beckwith was taken to the hospital and suffered only broken ribs and a broken nose. Allen Campbell, however, succumbed to his injuries. Campbell’s autopsy found the presence of cocaine in his system perhaps explaining why he confronted the mad elephant in a way surprising for an experienced trainer.

“I think the thing that shocked me the most was when I saw the trainer step in front of the elephant,” Brian McMillan said. “I knew he was obviously trying to save the other guy’s life, but on the other hand, that’s the last thing you do in that situation.”

Then again there was something markedly different about this rampage that called off all rules and precedents.

According to McMillan, “When an elephant gets spooked they normally try to get away. That elephant didn’t want to get away. That elephant wanted blood.”

As often happens when the dust of horror clears, the motivations are all too obvious.