MONKEY BUSINESS
by G.J. Forthun
December, 1997
Although we had many pets through the years, the most memorable was Jack. Jack was a Rhesus monkey that Doc had obtained from a local farm lady by the name of Mollie Jensen. Mollie had a hobby of collecting exotic as well as local wild animals, and she had a large number, perhaps 40 to 50 different species of animals in cages on her farm. Some of them, like the large peacocks, wandered around the farm and were not caged. We had a lot of fun going out to her farm on numerous occasions. She was a neat lady. Doc got Jack from her around 1952, when I was 14 years old. Jack was a wild animalÑhe was not the kind of monkey you would carry around on your shoulder. He would bite you in a heartbeat if you tried to touch him, so he was always kept in his cage.
Dad had Phil Gasteyer build the cage, about 10Õ by 4Õ by 6Õ high. It was framed with 2 x 4Õs with a heavy chicken-wire wrapped around it. After a period of time the chicken-wire stretched out because Jack bounced back and forth from one side of the cage to the other throughout the day. We had to replace the chicken-wire with a stronger welded wire fencing to withstand the punishment that Jack gave it. His cage had a small compartment on the upper back end with a swinging door on it so that he could escape the elements as well as the kids who frequently teased him. I probably teased him more than anyone else so he undoubtedly didnÕt like me very much. Once in awhile, during warm weather I gave him a little bath with my squirt-gun. ThatÕs probably the only bath he ever got. Jack tried to get back at me by bouncing hard against the sides of his cage when I approached. A few times he peed on me when I wasnÕt alert enough to get out of the way.
I was the one who usually fed him. As I recall he didnÕt eat much meat, if any. We mostly fed him vegetables and fruitsÑhe obviously really liked bananas and could peel and eat one in about 15 seconds. He liked peanuts too. Of course he peeled everything that we gave him, as he obviously thought everything was supposed to be peeled. He even peeled the chocolate coating off from Cheerios (chocolate covered vanilla ice-cream bar on a stick.) Maybe he knew something about chocolate that the rest of us didnÕt know.
Early in the first winter that we had him, we had a crisis. Although Doc had rigged up a small heater for him in his outside cage, it was obvious that he was too cold. So early one weekday morning in December Doc decided to bring Jack into the house while Phil Gasteyer built an inside cage for him in the basement. I remember that I was getting ready to go to school around 7:30 a.m. when Doc went out to JackÕs cage, grabbed him and carried him through the back porch into ClaraÕs kitchen. This whole thing only took about 15 seconds, but it was an eventful 15 seconds. Like I said earlier, Jack didnÕt like to be touched, so the whole time Doc was carrying him he was biting him HARD on his bare arms. Doc was hollering bloody murder the whole time. After Doc deposited Jack on the kitchen table he hurried off to treat his severely bitten arms with antiseptic. There were several deep bite-marks up and down his arms. Doc already had patients in his office waiting for treatmentÑTHAT was definitely not the way he wanted to start off the dayÑby having to administer first-aid treatment to himself!
When Doc had first told Clara that he was going to bring Jack in from the cold into her kitchen while Phil built a cage for him in the basement, he told her: ÒDonÕt worry, Clara, Jack will be so happy just to be inside where itÕs warm that he will behave himself.Ó Well, Doc was wrongÑJack didnÕt behave himself. For the next 8 hours or so while Phil worked very hard PUTTING TOGETHER JackÕs new cage down in the basement, Jack worked very hard on TAKING APART ClaraÕs kitchen. He pulled open the cupboard doors and started throwing things out on the floor. Some of the food items he ate, but most of the packages of food were just opened up and the contents dumped on the floor. He also threw down some glassware and smashed them on the sink and the floor. He seemed to take pleasure in opening a jar of honey or corn syrup and slowly pouring it out on the other food items that he had deposited on the floor. Luckily Clara had quickly closed the kitchen door going into the living room so JackÕs 8 hours of demolition were confined to the kitchen. ItÕs a wonder that Clara (or Doc) didnÕt have a heart attack that day.
When I came home from school Jack was still in the kitchen doing his thing. In addition to all of the things he had thrown on the floor, he of course had relieved himself a few times around the kitchen. An hour or so after I got home Phil finished building the cage in the basement, and I got to watch ÒThe Capture.Ó The plan was to throw a blanket over Jack and wrap him up in it so he wouldnÕt be able to bite anyone while he was being carried to his new home. It sounded like a good plan, but it took a lot longer than was expected. As Phil approached Jack to throw a blanket over him Jack ran ACROSS the kitchen wall and landed on top of the refrigerator. Now Phil was a pretty short guy, and he couldnÕt get a real good angle to throw the blanket up over JackÕs head. For the first few tries as Phil threw the blanket up to cover Jack, Jack caught the blanket and threw it back over PHILÕS head. (This would have made a great home-video!) This went on for several minutes before Phil and Doc were finally able to get Jack wrapped up in the blanket and carry him to his new cage.
After we had had Jack for about 3 years he became too much
of a nuisance, and possibly a liability for Doc. Jack started to find ways to get out of his cage, and on a
few occasions he threatened and scared some of DocÕs patients as they arrived
in the parking area. It was the
beginning of the end for Jack. On
August 23rd, 1955, Dad called Phil Gasteyer to come out to the house
and bring his .22 rifle with him.
On that day Spring Valley had its first Òdrive-by shootingÓ as I drove
the Õ52 Chevie slowly by JackÕs cage.
He was loose again, sitting on top of his cage. Phil stuck his rifle out of the back
window and shot Jack once in the head.
I buried Jack later in the back yard. I was tearful. I was so emotional that I felt compelled to write a poem to commemorate Jack. I titled it: ÒIf Jack Were Alive.Ó
And disposition of
usÑhis slaves?
Might not we be
subjected to his rage,
The day of his death.