Tyrannosaurus Sue-- The Extraordinary Saga of the Largest, Most Fought Over T. Rex Ever Found

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Tyrannosaurus Sue-- The Extraordinary Saga of the Largest, Most Fought Over T. Rex Ever Found Page 32

by Steve Fiffer


  misled him, he, like the Larsons, might have been subject to prosecution

  if he had unwittingly excavated on what t u r n e d out to be public lands.

  In this particular case, however, he had grown suspicious of the Waltons

  after the dig began. He therefore conducted a title search. This search

  revealed a m u d d l e d chain of ownership. To be on the safe side, Rigby

  had sought a permit from the federal government shortly before the

  Waltons struck.

  Walton insisted that his family had paid back its federal loan but

  had not been credited with the repayment. Thus, he said, he had a legit-

  imate claim to the land a n d the dinosaur. "We need food for o u r fami-

  lies a n d fuel for o u r machines," he said. "Those people at Earthwatch say

  it's a nonprofit outfit, b u t Rigby a n d those people earn m o n e y to pay

  their mortgages and put food on their tables, don't they? Is it fair that

  the landowner gets nothing?"

  Two weeks before Sue was to be auctioned off in New York, Rigby hur-

  ried back to Montana to finish excavating his tyrannosaur. By this time the

  government had determined that the land in question was indeed federal

  property. The Waltons had no claim to the site or the dinosaur.

  Y O U M A Y A P P R O A C H H E R M A J E S T Y 2 1 5

  "There's no question in my m i n d that Sue propelled the theft of o u r

  specimen," Rigby says. "[The thieves'] plan was to allow us to work a n d

  get excavation and then pull a Maurice Williams. And this was before

  the auction, when they thought Sue would go for a million. Supposedly

  they already had ours sold."

  There was a sad irony here. The federal government apparently

  seized Sue and prosecuted the Larsons to send a message that illegal fos-

  sil collecting would not be tolerated. That seizure m a d e Sue a celebrity

  who went not "for a million" but rather for $8.36 million. As a result, said

  Rigby, the sale of Sue, "as well intentioned as it was," may have inspired a

  new generation of fossil thieves. The paleontologist also expressed fears

  that "every rancher with fossils on his land from n o w on is going to

  d e m a n d thousands of dollars from any researcher just to look around."

  Rigby may have been overstating the case, but he could point to a

  historical precedent. In 1923, the famed fossil hunter Roy C h a p m a n

  Andrews of the American M u s e u m of Natural History m a d e an exciting

  find in the Flaming Cliffs of the Gobi Desert in Mongolia: dinosaur eggs.

  W h e n he returned to America, he was deluged with offers for not only

  the eggs but exclusive photos of them. He resisted such overtures, b u t he

  did use the publicity to raise monies for future expeditions to the desert.

  To gain attention and support he auctioned off o n e of the eggs. A rela-

  tive of one of the members of Chapman's collecting party won the spec-

  imen with a bid of $5000 a n d promptly donated it to Colgate University.

  Wilford writes that Andrews came to regret the auction. "Chinese

  and Mongol officials, hearing of the purchase got the idea that dinosaur

  eggs were worth $5000 each on the world m a r k e t . . . . 'They never could

  be m a d e to understand,' Andrews said, 'that that was a purely fictitious

  price, based on carefully prepared publicity; that actually the eggs h a d

  no commercial value.' Future expeditions were watched with increas-

  ingly suspicious eyes."

  Sue, of course, did have commercial value. But it remained to be

  seen whether her price was an aberration due to "all those stories." The

  price c o m m a n d e d by Nuss's and Detrich's Z. rex might be a better pre-

  dictor of the future of vertebrate paleontology.

  Whatever the implications of the auction t u r n e d out to be, no one

  in the scientific c o m m u n i t y faulted the Field M u s e u m for acquiring Sue.

  Bakker spoke for his peers when he credited the institution a n d its cor-

  2 1 6 TYRANNOSAURUS S U E

  porate partners with saving the dinosaur. T h e m u s e u m was, he said, "a

  class act."

  Because McDonald's and Disney had helped purchase the dinosaur,

  some of these same scientists and others in the general community, as well,

  were anxious to see if the inevitable marketing of the T. rex would be han-

  dled with class. Had the m u s e u m sold its soul to gain Sue? Would the sci-

  entific specimen be turned into a Happy Meal character or cartoon star?

  T h e m u s e u m a n d its partners were well aware that their conduct

  would be scrutinized. "It's i m p o r t a n t to emphasize that by contributing,

  McDonald's and Disney are supporting o u r programs, not that they are

  buying a piece of anything," Flynn said shortly after the auction.

  McDonald's Daly confesses, "There was some friendly push back

  from people working the angle that this was a potentially onerous thing

  because this wonderful priceless thing could be wrapped up in some kind

  of marketing." As a result, he says, the days following the acquisition were

  "an o d d period for us, because we knew that the one thing everybody

  thought we'd do (like market a Sue Happy Meal or T. rex burger), we were

  not going to do The components of what we were going to do were in

  place (and announced) at the time of the auction—phase one: the fossil

  prep lab, phase two: educational materials, and phase three: the tour."

  (However, after the auction the operator of the McDonald's restaurant in

  the m u s e u m did introduce a dinosaur theme—shades of the Crystal

  Palace 144 years earlier.)

  McDonald's was confident that it could meet its timetables for each

  of its three phases. While the fossil lab was built, the c o m p a n y started

  developing the extensive educational materials it planned to distribute

  free of charge to each of the m o r e than 60,000 elementary schools in

  America by the coming spring. T h e fast food giant hoped the m u s e u m

  could move equally quickly in providing it the scientific information

  needed for these materials. Says Murray, "We're accustomed to working

  in drive-thru time, while m u s e u m s move in geological time."

  T h e m u s e u m knew it would have to move at a faster pace than nor-

  m a l — t o meet not its partners' timetables, but its own. It had not p u b -

  licly a n n o u n c e d a date for the unveiling, but it was targeting May 2000.

  In the m u s e u m world, this was "drive-thru time." Sue's bones needed to

  prepared. They needed to be studied. They needed to be cast. And they

  needed to be m o u n t e d .

  Y O U M A Y A P P R O A C H H E R M A J E S T Y 2 1 7

  Since any given bone couldn't be in m o r e than one place at any one

  time, the logistics alone were daunting. "Most objects we study we have

  had for a long time," says Amy Louis, a business consultant w h o was

  hired by the m u s e u m as "Sue project coordinator" after the auction.

  "But here we had the concurrence of science a n d exhibition. That's not

  usual. There's a challenge in doing both at the same time."

  The challenge began as soon as McCarter arrived h o m e with Sue, or

  at least part of her. Before leaving Sotheby's the m u s e u m director had

 
; packed up a couple of the dinosaur's incisors. He m a d e it as far as an air-

  port checkpoint, where an x-ray machine picked up what appeared to

  be a pair of 8-inch weapons in the box he was carrying. After baring the

  teeth, he was allowed to proceed.

  "Ladies and gentleman, I n o w present you Sue," McCarter told a

  planning meeting w h e n he returned. In came a m u s e u m staffer carrying

  a towel. In ceremonial fashion, the towel was u n w r a p p e d to reveal a 67-

  million-year-old £ rex tooth. T h e assembled were so bitten with the

  dinosaur bug that Pat Kremer, the museum's director of public rela-

  tions, suggested the teeth be displayed to the public immediately.

  Spontaneous idea n u m b e r one.

  Spontaneous idea n u m b e r two quickly followed—along with the

  rest of the dinosaur's bones. The positive response to the dental display

  inspired the m u s e u m to m o u n t a t w o - m o n t h - l o n g "Sue Uncrated"

  exhibit after the remainder of the T. rex arrived in a specially equipped

  moving van—complete with a security guard w h o stayed up all night to

  protect against hijackers. T h e skull, replastered by Simpson for the

  cross-country trip, was displayed, as were other bones in various stages

  of preparation. Visitors could also watch a brief videotape about Sue

  and view photos of the dig. These same visitors could also watch a

  preparator clean Sue's bones.

  The Black Hills Institute supplied m a n y of the photos for this

  exhibit. Peter Larson had also talked to Simpson about Sue. "There's a

  lot of difficult preparation," he said. "She prepares beautifully—the

  b o n e is just wonderful b o n e — b u t you need to k n o w the tricks."

  The paleontologist didn't expect to be asked to prepare bones. He

  did hope, however, that he could continue doing his research on Sue.

  "We'd also like to have a cast of Sue here for the people that supported

  us. I want to give t h e m that at least," he said.

  2 1 8

  TYRANNOSAURUS S U E

  Larson's research would have to wait. Shortly after the auction, the

  m u s e u m a n n o u n c e d that it would be hiring a postdoctoral researcher to

  study Sue and write what Crane called, "the definitive description—a

  m o n o g r a p h on T. rex based on a complete specimen." Until the m o n o -

  graph was completed—a task that could take up to two years—it was

  unlikely that anyone outside the m u s e u m would be granted extensive

  access, said Crane, w h o has since left the m u s e u m to take a post at the

  Royal Kew Gardens in London.

  Casts the size of Sue could cost $50,000 to $100,000. Larson, how-

  ever, appeared to have something he could offer the m u s e u m in

  r e t u r n — t h e rights to the n a m e Sue. T h e institute had tried to trade-

  m a r k the n a m e shortly after the discovery. It appeared, however, that it

  had failed to file the proper applications. Nevertheless, Larson cited

  court decisions granting unregistered trademarks to companies or orga-

  nizations that proved they had used a n a m e in the past in the marketing

  of products.

  In early December, Larson went to Chicago to consult about the

  preparation of Sue and to work out a deal for her n a m e . At that time he

  u p p e d his asking price to two casts and financial compensation. He

  acknowledged that s o m e might consider h i m a gold digger, but he

  explained: "There's a difference between science and business. It's sort of

  a difficult thing for me because I'm doing both. Of course the science

  (with respect to Sue) is free; I'm willing to share what I k n o w for noth-

  ing. But we've spent $209,000 on her preparation, and we spent h u n -

  dreds of t h o u s a n d s of dollars in court. We're still paying our legal fees.

  I spent two years in jail. We created Sue's persona. You could always give

  it another n a m e , but it wouldn't be the same." Despite the uncertainty

  about the Larsons' rights, the m u s e u m decided to avoid litigation and

  strike a deal. Negotiations continued until late January, when the muse-

  um m a d e its final offer: $150,000 and o n e cast of the dinosaur.

  Larson had retained a lawyer specializing in intellectual property

  law. The lawyer, w h o was to be paid a percentage of what Larson

  received, persuaded the paleontologist to reject the offer. Larson

  explained that he would have been willing to give the m u s e u m the rights

  for little or no money, just a cast. However, his lawyer had persuaded him

  that the n a m e was worth m o r e to McDonald's and Disney. Those com-

  panies were never party to the negotiations, as the m u s e u m owned Sue.

  Y O U M A Y A P P R O A C H H E R M A J E S T Y 2 1 9

  Once again a dispute over Sue had devolved into bitterness and mis-

  understanding. Larson said he thought the m u s e u m was unnecessarily

  playing hardball, intimating that if he didn't accept the offer, he might

  lose consulting contracts with s o m e of the museum's partners. "I don't

  like to be threatened," he explained.

  The acrimony was mutual. In a letter rejecting the institute's final

  offer, m u s e u m counsel Felisia Wesson wrote Larson's lawyer: "Courts

  have repeatedly found that your client is not entitled to any such inter-

  est [in the fossil] and we view Black Hills' current assertion of rights in

  the n a m e 'Sue' as n o t h i n g m o r e t h a n a further attempt to profit from its

  original unlawful acts." (Larson notes that he was never charged with

  any "unlawful acts" regarding Sue.)

  On January 23, the m u s e u m a n n o u n c e d that it would discontinue

  using the n a m e Sue and launch a nationwide " N a m e the T. Rex" contest

  for schoolchildren. T h e museum's press release expressed concern "that

  continuing discussions and lack of resolution would take time a n d

  attention away from i m p o r t a n t research a n d educational objectives."

  Those research and educational objectives were already u n d e r way.

  The m u s e u m had hired 30-year-old P h D Christopher Brochu to study

  the T. rex and write the m o n o g r a p h . Brochu, whose specialty up to this

  point had been crocodiles, began on February 1. At the same time,

  McDonald's was preparing its educational materials—a children's book,

  a videotape, and lesson plans. C o m m i t t e d to a spring delivery, the com-

  pany decided to call the T. rex Colossal Fossil instead of Sue.

  The dispute ended relatively quickly, thanks to Hendrickson and

  Bakker, both of w h o m were shocked to learn of Larson's demands. They

  felt, as did many of their colleagues in the paleontology community, that

  Larson should be handsomely compensated for his past efforts. In their

  eyes, however, the museum's offer of m o n e y and, more important, a cast

  seemed fair. "It was totally out of character for Pete to d e m a n d a royalty,"

  says Hendrickson. She and Bakker talked to their friend and then tried to

  broker a compromise with the m u s e u m . Tired of fighting, Larson gave up

  all rights to the n a m e without demanding anything in return; he merely

  asked that the m u s e u m consider giving the institute a cast.

  B
y this time the contest was well u n d e r way. T h e m u s e u m decided

  to continue to accept entries a n d h o n o r its promise to award prizes for

  the winning names. After a n n o u n c i n g that it had selected Dakota as the

  220 TYRANNOSAURUS S U E

  best of the m o r e than 6000 submissions, the m u s e u m said that it had

  decided to keep the n a m e Sue. T h e reason? Calling the dinosaur Dakota

  might infringe on trademarks already held by others.

  A b o n e by any other n a m e remains a bone. The T. rex, whether

  called Sue or Dakota, still needed to be prepared so that it could be stud-

  ied a n d m o u n t e d . Because the museum's staff preparators were busy on

  other projects, Simpson hired two new teams to work on the speci-

  m e n — o n e at the m u s e u m and one at the fossil lab in Disney's

  DinoLand USA. He was particularly pleased to re-engage Bob Masek, a

  skilled technician w h o had left the m u s e u m some years earlier to work

  with famed University of Chicago paleontologist Paul Sereno.

  Preparator Simpson and researcher Brochu were hardly the twenti-

  eth-century equivalents of Cope and Marsh, though there was a certain

  competition for particular bones at the outset. Brochu could fully

  describe and study only prepared bones. Given a choice, he would have

  liked to start with Sue's skull. He was already making plans for the long-

  delayed CT scan. Simpson, on the other hand, didn't want his crew to

  cut their teeth on the most valuable part of the dinosaur. "We wanted to

  get up to speed. We had a learning curve," he explains. "So instead of

  starting on the skull, we picked a partial vertebra from the chest region

  that was not quite as preserved as other bones." Fortunately, because the

  institute had prepared several major bones before the raid—including

  the femur—Brochu had plenty to do.

  T h e institute had found about 270 of Sue's bones. Once the prepara-

  tors were up to speed, they could, for the most part, work on any of these

  in the order Brochu desired—if they could find them. The unprepared

  bones remained in their plaster field jackets. The institute had marked

  these jackets to indicate what was inside. Unfortunately, so, too, had the

  FBI and Sotheby's, and the markings weren't always consistent.

  "Usually you can tell from the shape of the jacket," says Simpson.

 

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