SEE THE ELEPHANT:
The First Elephant in America (1796)
Touring exhibitions of exotic animals were a popular form of entertainment in the American colonies of the eighteenth century. The first lion arrived here in 1716, the first polar bear in 1733, the first camel in 1740. But the biggest show, so to speak, was yet to come.
On April 18, 1796, the New York Argus announced that the ship America, recently arrived in New York harbor has “brought home an elephant, from Bengal, in perfect health. It is the first ever seen in America, and is a very great curiosity. It is a female, two years old, and of the species that grows to an enormous size.” The America’s master, Salem native Jacob Crowninshield (1770-1808), bought her in Calcutta for $450, expecting to sell her back in the colonies for a tidy profit. Crowninshield (later appointed Secretary of the Navy by Thomas Jefferson) could both laugh and brag about his elephantine venture. He wrote to one of his brothers:
I suppose you will laugh ... but I do not mind that, [I] will turn [an] elephant driver. If it [i.e., his scheme] succeeds I ought to have the whole credit and honor too. Of course, you know it will be a great thing to carry the first elephant to America.
We can only imagine the challenges involved in carrying a six-foot tall elephant on a four-month, 13,000-mile sea voyage in an eighteenth-century sailing ship. Water, for example, was in short supply, so the elephant acquired a taste for dark beer, and reportedly learned how to uncork bottles with her trunk. Within a week of arriving, Crowninshield was exhibiting his elephant in lower Manhattan, at the corner of Beaver Street and Broadway near the Bull’s Head Tavern, a favorite hang-out with sailors. The Argus noted that, in addition to imbibing “wine and spiritous liquors,” the elephant “eats thirty pounds of rice besides hay and straw ... and every kind of vegetable.”
Crowninshield didn’t keep the unfortunate creature for long. A Mr. Owen, who presumably saw a gold mine rather than an elephant, bought her for $10,000 which, according to one estimate is the equivalent of $200,000 today. Needless to say, Crowninshield profit was considerably more than just “tidy.” By August the elephant was on her way south for shows in Baltimore and Charleston, admission 50¢. Come November she was on display in Philadelphia from “eight in the morning until sundown,” admission now only 25¢. However much we might sympathize with her captivity, she at least seems to have thrived after a fashion. After a year in the colonies the Boston Gazette reported that “she has grown considerably since her arrival.” In July Boston’s Columbian Centinel breathlessly trumpeted that:
The elephant is just arrived in town and may be seen at Mr. Valentine’s, Market Square ... The greatest natural curiosity ever presented to the public. He so far surpassed all description that has ever been given him that we shall not attempt it here. Admittance half a dollar.
While the elephant (who repeatedly is referred to as “he” in the popular press) may have “surpassed all description,” it appear that not many Bostonians were willing to cough up 50¢ for a peek. A few days later, Mr Owen halved the ticket price. Over the next two decades the elephant continued to tour up and down the Atlantic Coast, drawing thousands of spectators, including President John Adams. A marvel to one and all, as early as 1835 when someone said they had “seen the elephant,” he meant he had “seen everything there is to see.”
Touring exhibitions of exotic animals were a popular form of entertainment in the American colonies of the eighteenth century. The first lion arrived here in 1716, the first polar bear in 1733, the first camel in 1740. But the biggest show, so to speak, was yet to come.
On April 18, 1796, the New York Argus announced that the ship America, recently arrived in New York harbor has “brought home an elephant, from Bengal, in perfect health. It is the first ever seen in America, and is a very great curiosity. It is a female, two years old, and of the species that grows to an enormous size.” The America’s master, Salem native Jacob Crowninshield (1770-1808), bought her in Calcutta for $450, expecting to sell her back in the colonies for a tidy profit. Crowninshield (later appointed Secretary of the Navy by Thomas Jefferson) could both laugh and brag about his elephantine venture. He wrote to one of his brothers:
I suppose you will laugh ... but I do not mind that, [I] will turn [an] elephant driver. If it [i.e., his scheme] succeeds I ought to have the whole credit and honor too. Of course, you know it will be a great thing to carry the first elephant to America.
We can only imagine the challenges involved in carrying a six-foot tall elephant on a four-month, 13,000-mile sea voyage in an eighteenth-century sailing ship. Water, for example, was in short supply, so the elephant acquired a taste for dark beer, and reportedly learned how to uncork bottles with her trunk. Within a week of arriving, Crowninshield was exhibiting his elephant in lower Manhattan, at the corner of Beaver Street and Broadway near the Bull’s Head Tavern, a favorite hang-out with sailors. The Argus noted that, in addition to imbibing “wine and spiritous liquors,” the elephant “eats thirty pounds of rice besides hay and straw ... and every kind of vegetable.”
Crowninshield didn’t keep the unfortunate creature for long. A Mr. Owen, who presumably saw a gold mine rather than an elephant, bought her for $10,000 which, according to one estimate is the equivalent of $200,000 today. Needless to say, Crowninshield profit was considerably more than just “tidy.” By August the elephant was on her way south for shows in Baltimore and Charleston, admission 50¢. Come November she was on display in Philadelphia from “eight in the morning until sundown,” admission now only 25¢. However much we might sympathize with her captivity, she at least seems to have thrived after a fashion. After a year in the colonies the Boston Gazette reported that “she has grown considerably since her arrival.” In July Boston’s Columbian Centinel breathlessly trumpeted that:
The elephant is just arrived in town and may be seen at Mr. Valentine’s, Market Square ... The greatest natural curiosity ever presented to the public. He so far surpassed all description that has ever been given him that we shall not attempt it here. Admittance half a dollar.
While the elephant (who repeatedly is referred to as “he” in the popular press) may have “surpassed all description,” it appear that not many Bostonians were willing to cough up 50¢ for a peek. A few days later, Mr Owen halved the ticket price. Over the next two decades the elephant continued to tour up and down the Atlantic Coast, drawing thousands of spectators, including President John Adams. A marvel to one and all, as early as 1835 when someone said they had “seen the elephant,” he meant he had “seen everything there is to see.”
