Modoc: The True Story of the Greatest Elephant That Ever Lived

by Ralph Helfer

  Mo wasn’t listening. She was in a state of bliss, slowly turning in small circles as she floated along the edge of the lake. Occasionally her feet would touch bottom and she would kick off, giving her pivotal motion a boost.

  “Then we would travel, maybe even to America!”

  Mo still wasn’t listening to a word Bram said. Self-entranced, she was gently playing with a large leaf that floated nearby. Bram’s loud voice broke the rapture of the moment.

  “Mo! Are you listening to me?”

  Shocked out of her dream world, Mo accidentally let her trunk slip beneath the surface as she took a deep breath…of water. Gasping for air, she sprayed water all over Bram, who promptly lost his balance and slipped off her back into the lake.

  Embarrassed by her behavior, Modoc tried to help him with her trunk. Bram was irate.

  “Keep that garden hose away from me!” he spouted as he swam for shore, followed by Mo.

  Once out of the water, they complained to each other that they were right.

  “You didn’t hear a word I said!”

  “Duuuuutuuuuu.”

  “We could have drowned.”

  “Rauuu Duuutuuuu.”

  “I know you can swim!”

  “Cauuuu tuuuuu.”

  The pair didn’t stop jabbering to each other until they arrived home.

  5

  “HI, I’M GERTIE,” said a voice.

  Bram was lying flat on his back atop of Modoc and didn’t hear a thing. It was a blistering hot day, and after finishing the chores he had decided to take a rest. He liked to lie on his back, his feet hooked under Modoc’s ears, and catch a few winks. Mo’s gentle swaying reminded him of when his mother used to rock him to sleep. Of course, for a man of thirteen years come April next month, he didn’t really admit to anyone that he felt that way.

  “Hello up there,” said the voice again.

  Bram bolted from his placid position, nearly falling, and looked to the left, back, front, right: no one. Again the voice.

  “Are you always this rude?” it asked.

  “Where are you?” Bram replied.

  “Here, just here, under the elephant’s chin.”

  Leaning way out from Modoc’s back, clinging to the rope around her neck, he could see from this angle a pink dress and a pair of legs.

  “Who are you, and will you please come out from underneath so I can see you?”

  Bram saw some kernels of popcorn fall to the ground. Apparently this person, whoever she was, was feeding Modoc popcorn. As he watched, the face of a beautiful tawny-haired little girl with hazel eyes appeared from under the elephant’s chin. The face smiled. It was a gentle, self-assured smile, the kind only a little girl can have.

  “I’m Gertie,” said the smiling face.

  “I’m Bram.”

  “Is this your elephant?”

  “No, she belongs to the circus in town, but my father’s the elephant trainer and he and…uh…I have been training her for the circus.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Modoc, but sometimes I call her Mo. Where do you live?” asked Bram. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

  “Up the road about two miles. I’ve seen you many times. Even been here before. I walk across Kunz farm and follow the rail tracks. Then I jump into the old culvert under the trestles at Weessenchter Road and, well, here I am.”

  Gertie gestured with her arms outstretched, head tilted, a look of confidence on her face. Bram was impressed. He’d been down in that old culvert himself and it was a bit scary even in the daytime.

  “Want a ride?” he asked.

  “Sure,” replied Gertie, looking up and down the elephant as if looking for a ladder.

  “Just stand in front of her. Mo’ll do the rest.”

  Gertie looked up hesitantly.

  “Not afraid, are ya?”

  “No, just wondering how I’m going to get down after I’m up.”

  Bram chuckled as Gertie stood in front of Mo. “Modoc, up!”

  Mo wrapped her trunk around Gertie and gently lifted her up to Bram, who grabbed her arm and sat her down in front of him.

  “Wow! It’s really high up here!” exclaimed Gertie.

  Bram, seeing that she was a little frightened, slid an arm around her waist, while nudging Mo with the bull hook he held in his free hand.

  “Move up, Mosie. Sometimes I call her Mosie, too.”

  Modoc moved out in long, gentle, quiet strides that rocked them with each step. Gertie snuggled back into Bram, feeling secure and protected in his arms. When Bram caught her looking at him, he didn’t turn away. He felt a strange, warm sensation creep through his body that caused him to shiver even though the sun was hot.

  They arrived back at the barn just as Josef was bringing in the stock for the night, so Bram introduced Gertie to his father. The kids pitched in to help with the feeding and cleaning chores, until Josef wondered if Gertie’s parents might be getting worried about her. He offered to drive her home, and when she and Bram promised to see each other the following Sunday for a picnic, Josef saw a look in Bram’s eyes that he sensed would be there for a long, long time to come.

  6

  “NOW YOU KIDS BE CAREFUL and I don’t want you back too late,” Katrina said as she handed the picnic basket filled with cheeses, fresh bread, and sausages to Modoc, who raised it up to Bram.

  “Bye, Mama. Bye Papa.”

  “If you go by the flower field,” Josef added, “give Mo about an hour and she can eat enough to have a good lunch, too.” He gave Mo’s rump an affectionate whack as Bram, with Gertie hanging on behind him, headed out the back way of the farm toward Cryer Lake.

  It was a lovely day. Summer was stealing some extra time while fall slept. White puffs of clouds hung in the sky with seemingly no interest in moving on. The rains had turned the countryside into a sea of green covering the hilltops. The slopes, spotted with groves of sycamore and spruce trees, caught the runoff and were a deeper green, with splashes of purple sage, the essence of the lush valley. The rain waters slowed and settled into the rich loam, and from it grew the emerald grass that carpeted God’s house, grass where the regal stag grazed.

  Modoc walked proudly. She carried herself with a conservative grace that comes from the heritage of one’s birthright. A thick woven mat of rope lay across her back, its outer edges strengthened by a bamboo frame that held it flat rather than letting it conform to her curves. Several nooses of rope were attached to the bottom edge so the picnic basket, water jug, camera, utensils, and other paraphernalia could be carried. A large handmade comforter padded most of the mat, making Modoc’s broad back comfortable and roomy enough for both youngsters to stretch out.

  Bram wore a pair of corduroy shorts his mother had trimmed down from his old school pants. A bright red piece of twine held them up. He was barefoot, having tied his shoes to the mat. A baggy collared shirt hung loosely from his shoulders. Gertie’s plain white cotton dress flared at the bottom and was bordered with a frail lace trim. Small embroidered flowers graced the neckline. Her silken hair was long and fine, and the slightest breeze caused it to swirl up as though caught in a miniature storm. As soon as it passed, each obedient golden strand floated back down to exactly where it had been.

  Bram followed Heinker Ridge until it started to slope up into the peaks, then headed down into a valley lined with giant mimosa pines. A small stream ran directly through the middle of the glen. Mo followed it, occasionally dipping her trunk in the cool water for a quick gulp, then misting the residue over Bram and Gertie, who giggled with delight. As the stream widened, it got deeper. When the dark waterline reached Mo’s dry, tan belly, Bram moved her out and up onto the bank. Gertie had scooted back and was kneeling on the mat.

  “Look, Bram, I’m a circus girl.”

  Rocking back and forth, she threw her hands up in the air, imitating the girl performers wearing their glittering costumes in the grand finale. Bram, rolling up one end of the comforter for a pillo
w, lay back as he watched Gertie’s mimicry. Her eyes half-closed, she lost herself in imaginary circus music. Her young flexible body swayed and moved, her hips undulated to silent rhythm; slowly she rose, never hesitating for a second. Modoc seemed to sense the moment and slowed her movement to smooth the bounce in her gait. Gertie began to hum one of the calliope tunes.

  Bram was so fascinated by her apparent abandonment of their reality that he forgot to breathe until his body reminded him, and he gasped to take a deep, fulfilling breath. God, she’s beautiful, he thought. He’d never seen Gertie like this. Modoc’s showers had wet her hair and dress so that it clung to her, innocently accentuating her small firm breasts. Dancing on Modoc’s huge wide back, she appeared to be floating in space as the beautiful scenery passed around her. Bram felt hypnotized in timeless quietude, with only the sounds of Gertie’s soft humming and Mo’s legs rustling through the underbrush.

  Gertie placed one foot on Mo’s backbone and started to turn, slowly at first, then gradually faster as she gained confidence. One arm rose like a crescent moon above her head. The lace of her dress billowed around her, with the speed of her twirling, ascending. Arms outstretched for balance, she let her head roll back; the centrifugal force flung her hair into one horizontal line as she spun like a ballerina in a music box. Gertie’s momentum, from the height of bliss, became awkward. Suddenly she was dizzy, trying to grab for something solid in the world now rushing by her. She became a marionette whose puppeteer had been suddenly distracted. Bram easily caught her fall into his strong arms. When she saw the concern in his face, her panic and disorientation subsided. Touching the sweat on his brow she put her finger to her lips. Bram had been enthralled, and he held her close, her body heat from the dance causing the now-familiar warmth in his loins. Gertie put her warm sensual lips on his; Bram closed his eyes. This was love of the deepest kind. She was his first love.

  The water looked so inviting. Cryer Lake curved through miles of the great Black Forest. Bram unloaded Mo, lowering everything to Gertie on the ground. Together they carried it to a great old pine tree, where roots ran above ground for a hundred yards in all directions.

  “It’s all yours, Mosie!” Bram cried.

  Modoc bellowed, swatted her trunk on the ground, then headed for the lake. The placid water, whose surface was as smooth as glass exploded as Modoc blasted her bulk against its calmness, throwing a cascade of gushing water everywhere at once. Bram stripped to his shorts. Gertie, in childlike innocence, pulled her dress off, leaving her panties on. Shoes flew in all directions. Hand in hand, screaming and yelling, they dove into the azure water. For an hour the three played. Mo thrashed the water with her head, whipping it back and forth, causing waves to sweep over the children. She danced and bellowed, completely immersed in her pleasure.

  Bram took Modoc into the deep part of the lake where he and Gertie could climb up on her back and use her as a diving platform. Sometimes Mo would gently pick them up in her trunk, depositing them on top of her head so they could dive from a higher place.

  The old pine tree’s needles provided a perfect carpet of shining green for their picnic blanket, and the simple fare seemed like a sumptuous feast. Looking straight up the massive trunk into a multitude of boughs, as Gertie curled up kittenlike against him, he imagined the branches were people as he stroked her hair. He remembered what his father had once told him, “Trees are like people and give the answers to the way of Man. They grow from the top down. Children, like treetops, have flexibility of youth, and sway more than larger adults at the bottom. They are more vulnerable to the elements, and are put to the test of survival by life’s strong winds, rain, freezing cold, and hot sun. Constantly challenged. As they mature, they journey down the tree, strengthening the family unit until one day they have become big hefty branches. In the stillness below, having weathered the seasons, they now relax in their old age, no longer subject to the stress from above. It’s always warmer and more enclosed at the base of a tree. The members remain protected and strong as they bear the weight and give support to the entire tree. They have the endurance.”

  Bram liked his father’s teachings and he realized that in humans the strength is also in the collective family support. He knew he would grow and become stronger until he, too, could shoulder responsibility with dignity and respect.

  Bram loved all forms of nature, worshipping it as others did religion. He believed the whole of God was in every atom as well as in the totality of nature. In the eagle as in the feather, God was all Creation. His father had once told him, “Only things that have no power of choice are perfect. Nature is, man isn’t.”

  Gertie had fallen asleep under Bram’s gentle stroking. A wave of fulfillment swept through him as he realized his happiness. While Gertie slept, Modoc found a sandbar just beneath the surface of the water where she could lie and scratch her sides, rubbing all the ecstasy off. Then she, too, took a nap, the muddy upper half of her body quickly drying in the hot sun. Birds landed on her, picking and searching for any tidbit to be found, not knowing they were walking on a living matriarch.

  A cool breeze alerted Bram to the lateness of the day. He kissed Gertie awake and yelled to Mo, “Move up, Mo! They began packing as Modoc rose from the sandbar.

  Bram tied a rope around Gertie’s waist and his own, then looped it into the rope weave mat. A quick pull brought them both together. It also prevented them from falling off were they to doze. As the sun began to descend slowly behind the horizon, Bram and Gertie slept soundly, rocked by the gentle motion of Modoc as she rounded Cryer Lake and headed up the ridge toward home.

  7

  THE SIDESHOW, which many patrons considered a “freak show,” featured a group of people who were born with, or had suffered, a mishap in their lives. This made them different from others, shunned by not-so-polite society. These people had joined together as a family unit for their own security and because of a love of the circus.

  Curpo was billed as the Littlest Man in Germany. He hated being referred to as a “freak” and was overjoyed when Herr Gobel allowed him, at Josef’s insistence, to help with Emma and her baby.

  Lilith, the Fat Lady, weighed over six hundred pounds. She was helped from place to place by whichever four or five people were at hand. Her house trailer had a special door cut into it to allow for her girth and heavy-duty springs to support her weight. Occasionally Lilith even needed some assistance with her toilette, but the circus was her “family” and they managed to get through most things together.

  String, the Thin Man, was also billed as the Tallest Man Alive, hovering almost eight feet in the air, resembling a human daddy longlegs spider. When he bent over to speak to you, he lowered himself slowly, deliberately, as the change of height would oftimes make him dizzy. Canvas billboards were best hung by him. He had no meat on his bones to speak of, had very little strength, and wobbled as if on weak springs whenever he walked. Doctors claimed he probably would have died years ago without the circus. His performance gave him a purpose. He was needed.

  Schulz was called the Seal Man because his hands grew out of his shoulders, resembling flippers. Normal in all other ways, Schulz had never learned to accept his defects. He hated people helping him and yet needed their assistance.

  Sweet Little Marigold, a woman twenty-three inches long, had been born with only a head and upper torso above the waist, and no limbs whatsoever. Blessed in other ways, however, she was a finely educated and intelligent lady, with a fluent mastery of five languages. Her skin had the fine sheen of delicate porcelain, her eyes were almond-shaped and pale hazel. Her head, crowned by a thick mass of long, flowing golden blond hair, completely encircled her torso. Lovingly cared for, Marigold was carefully carried on a velvet pillow by a large mulatto woman who answered to the unusual name of Moonspirit. French was the only language spoken between them. Moonspirit was always ready to help, and their smiles to each other could send messages no outsider could know. Sometimes, to add softness to the pillow, Marigold would
be placed on the thickness of her own hair, the waves and curls billowing around her. She had the look of a flower emerging from the comfortable bed of its golden petals. Circus audiences often left her presence feeling transfixed, as if having succumbed to an ethereal vision of spiritual enlightenment.

  Mesmera, the snake dancer, featured Slip, a fifteen-foot Indian python. A sinuous lady, she was the epitome of controlled body movement. Her slender and graceful physique, undulating muscles, and stretching tendons all moved in juxtaposition. Her eyes were as awesome as her body. Once transfixed on another pair, they overwhelmed, forcing the other to look away as one does from looking into the sun. Her head seemed to be the only part of her body that held her steady and balanced. Voluptuous breasts heaved.

  While all this mastery of extremities continued, Slip slid his bulk around her throat, down the earthquake-ravaged stomach, settling in the violent sea of her hips, content to let his muscles grasp her torso with such strength that he followed her exact movement without being bumped or jostled. She ended her act by kissing him on his hard, shiny, scaled mouth as his quick thrusting tongue slipped from a small orifice between those nontelling jaws.

  Sweet Little Marigold, the Torso Lady, and Karl Schulz, the Seal Man, were getting married! Whether it was a marriage for love or companionship, no one could say. Little Marigold had been born of normal parents, who had sent her to a home for invalids in Dusseldorf. The home was called Baselfeld, an establishment funded by the wealthy, where parents of deformed children could hide their offspring.

  “Mother told me that she loved me,” Marigold reflected in a conversation to Bram, “but because I was different, I couldn’t live a normal life. She felt that being with others of a similar kind would be better for me. I cried and told her I was afraid, that other people scared me. I was so lonely. Down deep I knew that she abhorred me. She never helped me with my personal needs, you know—like bodily functions. Why, she never even held me in her arms. But then, you see, back home we had maids at my beck and call. Not that I was spoiled, or anything like that, pas de tout,” Marigold hastened to add, “I just never quite realized how helpless I was until I went to that horrible place.”