Traveling to History: Nine, Part 2
TRAINS, BOATS, AND PLANES: JOHN TEE-VAN’S 36,000-MILE ODYSSEY TO BRING PANDAS TO NEW YORK CITY
By James F. Lee
Part 2 – Journey Back Home
When John Tee-Van landed at Chongqing airport on October 24, 1941, city was suffering from the effects of the war with Japan. Air-raid shelters, bombed buildings, nighttime blackouts, piles of debris, and soldiers were everywhere. The night before he was to meet China’s vice minister of information, the entrance hall to the minister’s office fell in, including the roof, leaving the entrance a mass of rubble.
On the 25th, Tee-Van met Dr. H.H. Kung, Vice Premier of the Republic of China. Tee-Van thanked Kung for the gift of the panda. Kung explained that Chinese law prohibited the exportation of pandas, saying that it was only at the insistence of Clare Booth Luce that the panda was given at all.
Two unexpected outcomes came from this meeting. First, Kung said it was “undesirable” that Tee-Van return with the panda via Australia and New Zealand, and that he should return via Hong Kong and Manila instead. Also, Tee-Van learned that there was a second panda at Chengdu, a male, not part of the national gift. After his meeting with Kung, Tee-Van wrote the vice-premier a letter asking for permission to buy the male panda.
Tee-Van spent nearly a week in Chongqing catching up on notes and correspondence, sightseeing, and getting his documents in order for the altered return route. He met with many members of the American community there, including the U.S. Ambassador Clarence Gauss. On the 28th, he did an interview with CBS radio.
He spent his last day before departing for Chengdu waiting in his hotel for a reply from H.H. Kung regarding the second panda. It didn’t come.
On October 30, he flew to nearby Chengdu, landing on an open field because the runway was being repaired. He was then packed into a canvas-covered truck for the bumpy ride into the city, where at last he finally would get to meet the reason for his quest: the female panda awaiting him at the home of Dr. David Graham.
Tee-Van couldn’t hide his delight when he finally saw the panda sitting on the front porch at Graham’s compound in Chengdu. She reminded him of Pandora, the late panda of the Bronx Zoo. “A female, with all the rotund playfulness of Pandora, not quite as clean, but happy and interested in life,” he wrote in his journal, “… with all the movements of Pandora … cheerfully munching bamboo.”
This was not the case with the male panda, tied by a chain to a tree. It was not in the least tame, huffing at Tee-Van when he approached too closely.
While in Graham’s care, the pandas’ diet consisted of bamboo supplemented with cornmeal sifted into bowls of boiling water, then mixed with evaporated milk and honey. The long-term problem was a bamboo supply, and more to the point, determining which kind of bamboo was most acceptable to the pandas. After a discussion with a professor of forestry at Nanking University, Tee-Van settled on mountain bamboo, which he hoped could be shipped to him roots and all packed in straw.
The pandas generated a lot of interest in Chengdu, eliciting visits from local dignitaries and curious onlookers eager to glimpse the two bears. One little boy came with a folded hat made of newspapers to give to the female. “I made it for her to play with,” he said.
Tee-Van spent much of his time in Chengdu discussing panda diet with local experts. He was told they eat ears of corn, pears, sugar cane, and even coarse bread. Their bamboo diet provided needed roughage.
On November 6, Tee-Van flew back to Chongqing for the official hand-over ceremony of the female panda. Tee-Van and the pandas were put up at the compound of Dr. Chester Rappe, a Methodist missionary.
At Chongqing, Tee-Van was relieved to learn that Vice Premier Kung had agreed to offer the male panda as a gift. He also learned that the Australian government denied entry of the pandas by air, allowing access only by ship. The point was moot, of course, because Tee-Van’s return plans had been altered, but it put into context Kung’s mysterious comment that return via Australia and New Zealand was “undesirable.” And like at Chengdu, the pandas attracted thousands of visitors every day.
On November 9, Tee-Van participated in a radio broadcast intended for American audiences that included remarks from Soong Mei-ling (Madame Chiang Kai-shek) and her sister Soong Ai-ling (Madame H.H. Kung). Later that day, at a luncheon at Dr Rappe’s attended by the Republic of China’s Premier Chiang Kai-shek and the Soong sisters, Generalissimo Chiang briefly observed the pandas. The sisters spent some time with the female panda, Tee-Van noting that Soong Mei-ling approached without hesitation, feeding the panda bamboo, while her sister hung back slightly afraid. (see photo #1).
Every day, Tee-Van learned something new about the pandas, their diets, quirks, and behavior. He learned that the male was not a good traveler, often fighting to get out of his crate, and that the female loved to play. Handling the pandas daily took a physical toll on Tee-Van, and on his clothing. In his journal, he wrote, “My clothes, from handling these animals, are slowly but definitely becoming filthy.”
On the afternoon of November 14, an entourage of friends, officials, and Chinese porters, along with pandas, panda food, and a stockpile of bamboo, left Dr. Rappe’s for the drive to Chongqing airport. A large crowd of spectators saw them off. At the baggage check, the animals weighed in at 116 pounds (male) and 47 pounds (female).
The China National Aviation Corporation (CNAC) flight from Chongqing to Hong Kong was an extremely dangerous route because it crossed Japanese lines and had to be undertaken at night. Just seven months before, Time publisher Luce flew the same route (in reverse), calling it “the most dangerous in the world.”
During the five-hour flight, the male was “a raving maniac for two hours, tearing from one end of [his] cage to the other,” while the female constantly clawed at the side of her crate. Shortly before landing, Tee-Van could see the lights of Macao in the distance.
In Hong Kong, the pandas were kept at the Dog Home of the local SPCA, while Tee-Van stayed in a hotel. When Tee-Van examined the bamboo he brought with him from China, he found that it had dried up and much was inedible.
Tee-Van and the pandas flew to Manila on November 16 aboard a Pan Am Sikorsky 42 flying boat. As the plane pulled onto the landing dock in Manila, Tee-Van was greeted by friends and by eager photographers. The pandas were placed in a station wagon, but incredibly, no arrangements had been made beforehand to house them.
Tee-Van faced two decisions: either put the pandas up in an air-conditioned hotel in Manila or drive to higher ground outside the capital where the temperature would be suitable for the animals. He chose the latter. After driving 60 kilometers, they found the Taal Vista Lodge in Tagaytay, where the pandas could be kept outside in their crates. The weather was cooler here than in Manila, so Tee-Van was relieved that the pandas should feel more comfortable. And he found some bamboo, too.
For the next several days, Tee-Van spent his time feeding the pandas, searching for more bamboo sources, and visiting a tailor to replace his deteriorating wardrobe.
On November 27, Tee-Van secured the pandas in their cages aboard the SS President Coolidge for the long voyage to San Francisco via Honolulu. The Coolidge was an American President Lines passenger ship with sleek black sides, a white upper deck, and two smokestacks. It could reach a speed of 20 knots and carry nearly 1,000 passengers and 300 crew.
A large quantity of bamboo was put aboard and stored in refrigerators. Although the pandas were housed in the ship’s kennels, they spent most of their time outside on a deck, where they generally slept during the day and played at night, much to the delight of passengers. Chains prevented them from roaming too far. Tee-Van slept in a cabin with several men.
The threat of war in the Pacific loomed ever larger as the Coolidge made way towards Honolulu, and for that reason, the ship was escorted by two U.S. naval vessels. Aboard the ship were many evacuees and refugees escaping the war in China and the expected Japanese invasion of The Philippines.
Among those evacuees was 15-year-old Rosalie Hutchison, a refugee from The Philippines, who spent some of her idle hours aboard observing the pandas while they played.
Tee-Van constantly worried about the health of the pandas. He fed them daily, checked on them constantly, played with them if they let him, noted their appetites, and examined their stool. Yet, he worried most when they were asleep. “Their slumbers are such counterfeits of death that I am constantly alarmed and convinced that something is wrong,” he wrote in his journal.
The Coolidge was twelve days at sea when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. The captain ordered the white upper decking of the ship painted gray, a night-time blackout, and limited the use of water. Passengers were forbidden to throw debris overboard. Tension was high aboard the ship, except for the pandas. Tee-Van noted, “… the only ones on board the ship who are untroubled.”
The male panda’s behavior continued to be unpredictable. One day he grabbed the leg of an elderly woman, leaving scratches. He sometimes bit Tee-Van and clawed at him. Other times he was docile.
On December 16, the ship docked at Honolulu. Hawaii was a much different place than Tee-Van left a month earlier. No waving crowds at the dock, no leis of welcome. Warplanes flew overhead. Two days later evacuees, “…mostly women, look[ing] haggard and worn…” as well as wounded servicemen were brought onboard. The Coolidge cast off on December 19 for the crossing to San Francisco.
One bright spot, though: the bamboo available in Hawaii was very much to the pandas’ liking; they devoured it ravenously.
The ship arrived at San Francisco on December 26.
Meeting Tee-Van at the dock was his boss Allyn R. Jennings, who arranged to have the pandas put up at the St. Francis Hotel in a room next to Tee-Van’s. The female ran about the room tumbling and twisting and playing in the dry bathtub. For two days, a stream of visitors and reporters came to see the animals.
Union Pacific arranged for an empty New York Central baggage car to transport the pandas to Chicago. Tee-Van and Jennings had a state room three cars back, but they spent the first night with their charges, constantly adjusting the heat so that the pandas didn’t get too warm. Allyn and Tee-Van took turns on four-hour watches day and night. It must have been a relief for Tee-Van to share the burden with another person.
From Chicago, the four took the Manhattan Limited to New York with the pandas again in a baggage car. As the train approached New York City, Tee-Van had one last incident with the male panda. The animal refused to get into its cage. As he struggled to get the bear inside, Tee-Van was left totally spent. His hands were lacerated, and “I finished up dirty, disheveled, and tremblingly exhausted.” Minutes later the train arrived at Penn Station on December 30, 1941.
It was a journey of 94 days.
Post Note: The two bears successfully took Pandora’s place at the Bronx Zoo. After a nationwide name-the-pandas contest, they were called Pan-dah (the female) and Pan-dee (the male). They lived for several years, Pan-dee dying in 1945 and Pan-dah in 1951. Except for one brief temporary exhibit in 1987, there have been no more pandas at the Bronx Zoo.
Oh, and one other note: Turns out Pan-dah and Pan-dee were both females.
Sources:
“Journey to China for Giant Pandas,” daily journal by John Tee-Van, 1941. WCS Archives.
The Lady and the Panda. Vicki Constantine Croke. Random House, 2005.
“Safe Passage: The SS Coolidge Evacuated Hundreds from Honolulu After the Attack on Pearl Harbor,” by James F. Lee. Honolulu Star-Advertiser, December 2, 2012, G1, G7.