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

TYRANNOSAURUS SUE

TYRANNOSAURUS SUE THE

E X T R A O R D I N A R Y SAGA OF THE

LARGEST,

MOST F O U G H T OVER T. REX EVER F O U N D

STEVE

FIFFER

FOREWORD BY ROBERT T. BAKKER

IS W. H. Freeman and Company New York

Text design by Nancy Singer Olaguera Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Fiffer, Steve. Tyrannosaurus Sue : the extraordinary saga of the largest, most fought over T. rex ever found / Steve Fiffer ; foreword by Robert T. Bakker. p. cm. Includes index ISBN 0-7167-4017-6 1. Tyrannosaurus rex—South Dakota. 2. Paleontology—South Dakota— History—20th century. 3. Larson, Peter. I. Title. QE862.S3 F54 2000 567.912'9'09783—dc21

00-021596

© 2000 by Steve Fiffer. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording, nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise copied for public or private use, without written permission from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America Third Printing, 2000 W. H. Freeman and Company 41 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10010 Houndmills, Basingstoke, RG21 6XS, England

For my family

Or speak to the earth, and let it teach you Job 12:8

CONTENTS

Foreword

xi

Acknowledgments

xv

PROLOGUE

1

1 IT M U S T BE A T. REX

5

2 N E V E R , E V E R FOR S A L E

27

3 Y O U B E T T E R GET O U T H E R E , P E T E

47

4 T A K I N G A H O W I T Z E R TO A FLY

65

5 WHO OWNS S U E ?

89

6 IS A D I N O S A U R " L A N D " ?

107

7 J U R A S S I C FARCE

121

8 YOU CAN I N D I C T A HAM S A N D W I C H

137

9 N E G O T I A T I O N S A R E U N D E R WAY

151

1 0 T H E Y ' R E NOT C R I M E S 11 I KEPT W A I T I N G 12

FOR S O M E T H I N G T O

E V E R Y T H I N G C H A N G E D THAT DAY

1 3 YOU MAY A P P R O A C H HER M A J E S T Y

161 HAPPEN

183 195 213

EPILOGUE

235

Index

237

FOREWORD Robert T. Bakker, PhD

Dinosaurs are the m o s t p o p u l a r form of fossilized life the world over. And Tyrannosaurus rex is the most p o p u l a r d i n o s a u r a m o n g people of all ages, all cultures, a n d all nationalities. A n d the great skeleton called Sue is, by far, the most famous single skeleton of the "tyrant lizard king" ever found. A specimen of surpassing beauty, Sue can stun into silence even the most jaded a n d cynical senior scientist. Scholars everywhere agree that these bones are of t r e m e n d o u s i m p o r t a n c e in o u r u n d e r standing of the final days of the dinosaurs 66 million years ago, w h e n the Age of Reptiles was a b o u t to end in worldwide catastrophe, a n d the legions of furry m a m m a l s were poised to take over the land ecosystems and evolve into horses a n d tigers, l e m u r s a n d monkeys, apes a n d mankind. T h e story of Sue is an extraordinary tale—it has the r o m a n c e of a paleontological quest, the search for the perfect rex by a y o u n g fossil h u n t e r who, as a kid, d r e a m e d of building a m u s e u m a r o u n d a t y r a n nosaur specimen. T h e story has heartbreaking twists a n d t u r n s , betrayals and palace intrigues, terrible m o m e n t s of justice g o n e w r o n g w h e n the best intentions were rewarded by c a l u m n y a n d i m p r i s o n m e n t . T h e n there are unlikely protagonists: squads of fourth-grade children from Hill City, South Dakota, w h o tearfully pleaded with the FBI n o t to take their beloved t y r a n n o s a u r away; M c D o n a l d ' s a n d Disney, w h o rushed in their forces to save the skeleton from the i g n o m i n i o u s fate of b e c o m ing the personal trinket of s o m e international financier.

xi

xii

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

As the m o s t perfect T. rex ever found, Sue belongs to the world. But she also belongs to Chicago, the city that hosts the Field M u s e u m of Natural History, o n e of the oldest a n d grandest of America's fossil institutions. Here Sue, at last, has found a h o m e , where she rises once m o r e on her gigantic legs to thrill millions of visitors each year. And Sue's story m o s t emphatically belongs to Steve Fiffer, a Chicago journalist w h o has followed her trail from the badlands of South Dakota t h r o u g h the federal court system a n d at last into the marble halls of the Field. Fiffer has d o n e m o r e t h a n any other investigator in disentangling the m a n y claims a n d counterclaims t h r o w n o u t by dueling scientists a n d lawyers. Fiffer's success comes from being t h o r o u g h a n d being fair and being very s m a r t . I k n o w of no other investigator w h o has been welcomed equally by the r o u g h - a n d - t u m b l e folks w h o dig b o n e s in the dry washes of the West a n d by PhDs in lab coats w h o speak in the polysyllabic language of technical paleontology. There's a lot of R a s h o m o n in Sue's story. Every participant r e m e m bers it from a different angle. O n e man's hero is another's villain. T h e s u p p o r t e r s of Mr. Peter Larson, the i n d e p e n d e n t fossil collector w h o d u g Sue a n d m a d e her famous, see h i m as a role m o d e l for anyone w h o wants to explore the deep past a n d b r i n g back to life the great creatures of the Mesozoic. To certain segments of the P h D s in t a x - s u p p o r t e d u n i versity m u s e u m s , Pete and his crew are Mesozoic brigands operating outside the tight circle of scholars trained in the Ivy League or its equivalent in California. W h e n I visit my colleagues in Japan or Mongolia or Russia, I find Peter Larson regarded as a leading rex scientist w h o has reinvigorated the study of t y r a n n o s a u r s b o t h by his discoveries of a half-dozen skeletons a n d by his bold hypotheses a b o u t Sue's family life a n d h u n t i n g style. But w h e n I chat with l o n g - t i m e friends in Nebraska m u s e u m s , professors of geology, the m e r e m e n t i o n of the Larson b r o t h ers elicits sputtering curses and the m o s t undignified slander. Fiffer's account is a double story line. First, there is the chronicle of discovery, the ripping yarn of h o w packs of m u l t i t o n Tyrannosaurus rex lived as top predators in the ecosystem k n o w n as the Lance Fauna, the last installment of Cretaceous history, a n d h o w this tyrant lizard king let its r e m a i n s b e c o m e e n t o m b e d within the sandbars of ancient rivers flowing sluggishly o u t into the h u m i d deltas of an inland sea. Buried

FOREWORD

xiii

with the tyrants' bones were a wealth of clues a b o u t w h a t the rex smelled in the air a n d felt u n d e r their t o e s — t h e r e are beautiful tropical leaves, petrified fruit, a n d pollen dust that speak of a w a r m e n v i r o n m e n t closer to present-day Louisiana t h a n to the parched high plains of South Dakota. And there are r e m a i n s of the tyrants' last meal, jagged-edged fragments of toes a n d ribs bitten off the bodies of Triceratops a n d still within the gut cavities of the p r e d a t o r s ' skeletons. Inscribed on the rex bones themselves are the scars left by a predaceous lifestyle—scratches on the cheekbones that were inflicted d u r i n g ritualized battles with other rex a n d terrible w o u n d s on legs a n d ribcages that were p r o d u c t s of life-and-death struggles with h o r n e d dinosaurs. T h e u n e a r t h i n g of these rex graves c a m e in two waves. First c a m e the explorers of 1900 from back East, from N e w York a n d from the Smithsonian, m e n w h o found the first rex a n d m a d e " t y r a n n o s a u r " a household word. Nearly a c e n t u r y later, in the 1990s, c a m e the second wave of rex h u n t e r s , this t i m e led by m e n a n d w o m e n from institutions in the Rocky M o u n t a i n states, s o m e from state colleges a n d universities, s o m e from i n d e p e n d e n t m u s e u m s that grew de novo, coalescing a r o u n d people such as the Larson b r o t h e r s a n d their coworkers in the Black Hills of South Dakota. These i n d e p e n d e n t s were n o t a totally n e w p h e n o m e n o n . Since the 1870s there h a d been Westerners—the Sternberg family from Kansas are the most f a m o u s — w h o m a d e their living by digging dinosaurs a n d selling the specimens to public m u s e u m s the world over. T h e Sternbergs braved horrible blizzards a n d scorching sandstorms to bring back duck-billed dinosaurs a n d t y r a n n o s a u r s to fill out the core displays in a dozen eastern m u s e u m s . W h e n I went to college in the 1960s, the Sternberg legacy was still h o n o r e d . But the politics of paleontology shifted. In the 1970s a n d 1980s some P h D s claimed all b o n e s for themselves, declaring that only university scholars such as themselves h a d the right to dig skeletons a n d study t h e m . According to this view, the days of the Sternbergs were over. I n d e p e n d e n t d i n o h u n t e r s were no longer welcome. T h e n came Sue. The Larson b r o t h e r s ' Black Hills Institute excavated the skeleton a n d began to clean the b o n e s with expert care. And they dared to make their own conclusions a b o u t rex lifestyle a n d relationships. We P h D s are as vulnerable to the twin malady of envy a n d gossip as are any other segm e n t of society, so as Sue's fame grew, r e s e n t m e n t spread.

xiv

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

A byzantine tangle of lawsuits and, eventually, criminal charges paralyzed the further study of the Sue skeleton. Political o p p o r t u n i s t s j u m p e d on the b a n d w a g o n , p o s t u r i n g as protectors of the country's fossil heritage. M e n a n d w o m e n of goodwill lined up against each other. F o r m e r friends broke off c o m m u n i c a t i o n . W h e n the dust settled, millions of taxpayer dollars had been s q u a n dered on unnecessary court cases. A n d Sue was in danger of being a u c tioned off to any billionaire collector w h o m i g h t w a n t to make the fossil a Cretaceous objet d'art for his foyer. Fiffer tells this double story with wit, clarity, a n d verve. Here's a fossil saga for everyone—for the d i n o aficionado w h o wants to learn secrets of rexian society; for the reader of adventure yarns that are almost too good to be t r u e ; for the citizens w h o suspect that the agents of big g o v e r n m e n t d o n ' t always do the right thing. D i n o s a u r bones are the legacy given to o u r h u m a n species, the only life form with a brain big e n o u g h to u n d e r s t a n d t h e m . D i n o s a u r fossils are intellectual j u m p e r cables—nothing beats a r o o m full of d i n o b o n e s to get brains of kids a n d adults w o r k i n g at full capacity. A n d to u n d e r s t a n d d i n o science, one has to p r o b e the motives of d i n o scientists. M o r e t h a n any other recent work, Fiffer's b o o k gets inside paleontology a n d shows us h o w this most magical science really works.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Reconstructing Sue's story was a little bit like reconstructing her skeleton. There were a lot of pieces that had to be p u t together, a n d the task was beyond the skills of any o n e person. T h u s , I'm m o s t grateful for the help of many. Special thanks m u s t go to the Black Hills Institute (Peter Larson, Neal Larson, Terry Wentz, a n d M a r i o n Zenker) a n d the Field M u s e u m (John McCarter, A m y Louis, John Flynn, Bill Simpson, a n d Nancy O'Shea). Sue Hendrickson, Bob Bakker, Phil Currie, a n d Ken C a r p e n t e r also provided essential material a n d guidance. Many others with intimate knowledge of various aspects of the story graciously shared their t h o u g h t s with m e , including Ed Able, James Abruzzo, Bob Chicoinne, the late G a r y Colbath, Peter C r a n e , Jack Daly, Patrick Duffy, Steve Emery, H e n r y Galiano, Richard Gray, Robert H u n t , Louis Jacobson, Bob Lamb, Robert Mandel, Amy Murray, Cathy N e m e t h , David Redden, Keith Rigby, Dale Russell, Vincent Santucci, Kevin Schieffer, Maurice Williams, Michael W o o d b u r n e , a n d David Zuercher. Several wonderful books were also extremely helpful in u n d e r standing the science of dinosaurs a n d the history of d i n o s a u r h u n t i n g . As is obvious from the references in the text, I relied heavily on the following: The Complete T. Rex by John R. H o r n e r a n d D o n Lessem (Simon and Schuster, 1993); The Rex Files by Peter Larson (self-published); The Dinosaur Hunters by Robert Plate (McKay, 1964); Dinosaur

xvi

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Hunters by David A. E. Spalding (Prima Publishing, 1993); The Life of a Fossil Hunter by Charles H. Sternberg (Indiana University Press, 1990; originally published by Holt, 1909); a n d The Riddle of the Dinosaur by John Noble Wilford (Knopf, 1985). "Jurassic Farce," a South Dakota Law Review article by Patrick Duffy a n d Lois Lofgren, was also a valuable resource. O t h e r books consulted included The Bonehunters' Revenge by David Rains Wallace ( H o u g h t o n Mifflin, 1999) a n d Night Comes to the Cretaceous by James Lawrence Powell (W. H. Freeman a n d C o m p a n y , 1998). I have a t t e m p t e d to give credit in each instance in which I have directly q u o t e d or used information from these texts. I apologize to the a u t h o r s if I have failed to do so at any point in the b o o k . Newspaper articles also assisted me in reconstructing s o m e events. T h a n k s to all the South Dakota publications that did such a fine j o b of covering this story, with special k u d o s to the Rapid City Journal a n d its writers Bill Harlan a n d H u g h O'Gara. T h e Journal provided outstanding coverage of this story from day o n e . T h a n k s , too, to G e m m a Lockh a r t for her lovely c o m m e n t a r y . I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge others w h o assisted: Richard Babcock, Ira Block, Diana Blume, Casey Carmody, Julia DeRosa, Georgia Lee Hadler, Karen H e n d r i c k s o n , Penelope Hull, Maureen McNair, Stan Sacrison, Steven Sacrison, M i n n i e Tai, Jeff Theis, Judy T h o m p s o n , Sheldon Zenner, McDonald's, Walt Disney World Resort, Burson-Marsteller, Sotheby's, the staffs at Chicago Magazine and Chicago Tribune Magazine, and, as usual, my wonderfully supportive family— Sharon, Kate, Nora, a n d Rob Fiffer. Penultimate t h a n k s to my literary agent, Gail H o c h m a n , and, at W. H. Freeman a n d C o m p a n y , to Peter McGuigan a n d Sloane Lederer, w h o from the b e g i n n i n g saw the possibilities for this book, and to my editor, Erika G o l d m a n , w h o provided invaluable s u p p o r t a n d counsel t h r o u g h o u t the writing process. A n d finally, thanks to Sue, herself, w h o s e story a n d presence will, I h o p e , inspire a new generation of scientists a n d writers.

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

PROLOGUE

After she was gone, after that dark, shocking day in May of 1992, w h e n the a r m e d FBI agents a n d Sheriff's officers a n d National G u a r d s m e n had come and taken her away and locked her in a m a c h i n e shop, he didn't forget her. W h e n he wasn't talking to his lawyers about h o w to get her back or to the U.S. attorney w h o had ordered her seizure or to the media or to the leaders of the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe w h o also claimed her, when he wasn't talking to the technicians at NASA who'd been waiting for her or to the outraged scientists w h o couldn't believe she was gone, he'd climb into his 1981 Datsun pickup a n d drive the 30 miles from Hill City to Rapid City for a secret rendezvous. D o w n Main Street a n d o n t o Highway 16, t h r o u g h the Black Hills past the turnoff for M o u n t R u s h m o r e , past the entrance to Bear C o u n try, the Reptile Gardens, the water slides, the m i n i a t u r e golf courses, a n d all the other attractions for the s u m m e r tourists, until he reached a brick building at the South Dakota School of Mines a n d Technology. The building, part of the school's physical plant, h o u s e d boilers a n d other heating systems, as well as the 40-foot metal storage container in which she was being held. He could catch a glimpse of the container t h r o u g h an outside window. "I'd just stand there a n d talk to her," Peter Larson r e m e m b e r s . "I'd say, 'We're g o n n a get you out of here, Sue. Be patient. Everything's going to be okay.'" Larson, w h o was in his early forties, did n o t expect Sue, a 67-million-year-old Tyrannosaurus rex, to r e s p o n d . D i n o s a u r s talk only in

l

2

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

movies or on television or in t h e m e parks. Still, s o m e t h i n g in his bones told the paleontologist that he h a d to reassure Sue that she would survive this ordeal, this indignity, just as she h a d survived n u m e r o u s battles with o t h e r d i n o s a u r s while alive, just as her skeleton had survived millennia u p o n millennia of climactic change a n d chaos virtually intact. Only 11 other Tyrannosaurus rex had ever been discovered. She was the find of his life, the find of anyone's life—the largest, most complete (90 percent) T. rex ever u n e a r t h e d . And while she could not talk, she had been telling h i m remarkable stories over the 21 m o n t h s since his colleague Sue H e n d r i c k s o n had first spotted her on August 12, 1990. Her b o n e s offered clues to d e t e r m i n i n g her sex and the sex of other dinosaurs, as well as the usefulness of their u p p e r appendages. Her fibula, which h a d been broken a n d t h e n healed over, seemed to indicate that she had survived a crippling injury that would have rendered her unable to fend for herself for a lengthy period of time. Her partially d a m a g e d skull indicated that she m a y have lost her life in combat. Foreign remains in her midsection even revealed her last supper before d e a t h — a duck-billed dinosaur. So to Larson, w h o had k n o w n he was going to be a paleontologist since he had found his first fossil at age 4, Sue was alive in her o w n way. She h a d a n a m e , she had a personality, a n d she h a d a history. She was, to h i m at least, priceless. As he took the p o d i u m at Sotheby's New York in m i d t o w n M a n h a t t a n on O c t o b e r 4, 1997, David Redden, the auction house's executive vice president, h a d no idea what price Lot 7045 would c o m m a n d . N o t h i n g like this had ever been found, m u c h less sold or auctioned, in the 253 years Sotheby's h a d been in business. But Redden, an unflappable Brit w h o has auctioned off everything from Mozart m a n u s c r i p t s to m o o n rocks, knew that the world would soon k n o w the exact m o n e t a r y value of the lot described in the Sotheby's catalog as a "highly i m p o r t a n t and virtually complete fossil skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus rex . . . popularly k n o w n as Sue." Bidding was to begin at $500,000. Watching eagerly from a private r o o m overlooking the standingr o o m - o n l y crowd of 300 on the auction floor, Maurice Williams, the Native American w h o had consigned Sue to Sotheby's, was h o p i n g for at

PROLOGUE

3

least $1 million. D o w n on the floor itself, Sue H e n d r i c k s o n prayed that it wouldn't get m u c h higher t h a n that. She knew that Peter Larson h a d a representative in the r o o m with limited resources. In the five a n d one-half years since the g o v e r n m e n t had seized the dinosaur from h i m , Larson h a d exhausted his e m o t i o n a l a n d financial resources to get her back. His passion for Sue, he believed, h a d led to a vendetta by the federal g o v e r n m e n t that p u t h i m b e h i n d bars for almost two years. Unable to attend the auction because he was u n d e r " h o m e confinement" after his recent release from prison, the paleontologist was m o n i t o r i n g the proceedings via telephone. A trio representing Chicago's Field M u s e u m — R i c h a r d Gray, John W. McCarter, Jr., a n d Peter C r a n e — w a s also participating by p h o n e , albeit o n e almost within s h o u t i n g distance of Redden. Fearing that competitors' awareness of their interest in Sue might drive up the price, they had slipped unseen into a n o t h e r private r o o m at Sotheby's just before the auction was to begin. T h e y would c o m m u n i c a t e their bids by hotline to the house's president, Diana " D e d e " Brooks, w h o was situated below the p o d i u m to R e d d e n s left. Less secretive than the Chicagoans b u t equally prepared for the h u n t , representatives of several other m u s e u m s as well as private foundations a n d wealthy individuals sat or stood on the floor, their weapons—small blue auction paddles—poised. The United States g o v e r n m e n t , which also had once laid claim to Sue, would not be bidding by paddle or p h o n e . T h e g o v e r n m e n t didn't care w h o in particular m a d e the highest offer, b u t federal fingers were crossed h o p i n g that the w i n n e r would keep the d i n o s a u r in America. If some private collector or institution from Asia or Europe prevailed a n d took Sue overseas, Washington w o u l d be wiping the egg off its face for years to come. " G o o d m o r n i n g , ladies a n d gentlemen," Redden began. "We have for auction today the fossil of the T. rex k n o w n as Sue." T h e auctioneer tilted his head to the right, where S u e — o r at least her chocolate-brown, 5-foot-long, 6 0 0 - p o u n d skull—sat on a long white cushion. O n e of the world's foremost paleontologists, Dr. Robert Bakker, e n a m o r e d by Sue's charisma, once described her as the "Marlene Dietrich of fossils." Sotheby's seemed to be treating her m o r e like

4

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

M a d o n n a than Marlene, a rock star rather than a chanteuse. Her image was posted on a h u g e screen above the stage, a n d a bodyguard stood by her side. Redden took a deep breath, b r o u g h t his gavel d o w n , a n d the music began.

1

IT M U S T

BE

A

T.

REX

"Five hundred thousand dollars," said Redden. He let the figure roll off his tongue slowly. The surreal nature of the moment hadn't escaped him. The bidding had begun, and he and a dinosaur named Sue had entered the kind of Salvador Dali landscape you might expect to find on the Sotheby's auction block. If the tire hadn't gone flat, if the fog hadn't lifted, if the d i n o s a u r hadn't been calling, Sue H e n d r i c k s o n might never have found her. A Tyrannosaurus rex calling across 7 miles of rugged rock a n d barren prairie, across 67 million years of time? Hendrickson, of all people, can't explain it. "I'm a very analytical person. I don't believe in fate," she says as she checks her m u d - s p a t t e r e d gray backpack to m a k e sure that she has everything she needs to go h u n t i n g for dinosaurs on a w a r m , cloudless, late-summer day in South Dakota. H e r eyes as blue as the Great Plains sky, her face as resolute a n d weathered as the b a d l a n d s she will soon be traversing, Hendrickson wears the same outfit she wore w h e n she found Sue almost a decade earlier in this same fossil-rich f o r m a t i o n — b l u e jeans, blue workshirt, a n d b r o w n hiking boots. A silver-colored pick hangs from a leather belt a r o u n d her waist like a six-shooter. Her h u n t ing c o m p a n i o n , a striking golden retriever n a m e d Skywalker, sits at attention by her side.

5

6

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

A field paleontologist since the mid-1980s, Hendrickson is nothing if not d o w n to earth. It is past ages, not the New Age, that move her. She searches for fossils, not herself. And yet "For two weeks this d i n o s a u r was d o i n g s o m e t h i n g to me, calling m e . I didn't actually hear voices. But s o m e t h i n g kept pulling me there. S o m e t h i n g wanted it to be me that went there and found her." (Paleontologist Robert Bakker is n o t surprised when he hears this. "There's no such thing as an atheist in a d i n o s a u r quarry," he laughs.) It was August of 1990. Hendrickson, Larson, and other members of a team from the Black Hills Institute of Geological Research, a commercial fossil-hunting enterprise based in Hill City, South Dakota, were concluding a month's stay at the Ruth Mason Dinosaur Q u a r r y near the small town of Faith in the northwest corner of the state. This was the fourth s u m m e r that Hendrickson had worked with the team. She had joined t h e m after a spring spent searching for a m b e r in the Dominican Republic. Paleontology is only o n e of Hendrickson's passions. She is, perhaps, the world's leading procurer of a m b e r a n d has been an u n d e r w a t e r diver on expeditions that have found the lost city of Alexandria, Egypt, submerged by an earthquake a n d tidal wave in the fifth century; sixteenthc e n t u r y Spanish galleons that sank off C u b a a n d the Philippines; and Napoleonic ships sent to the floor of the Nile by Admiral Nelson's fleet in 1798. "Sue is like Indiana Jones, an intrepid globetrotter," says Dr. David Grimaldi, C h a i r m a n of the American M u s e u m of Natural History's D e p a r t m e n t of Entomology. H e n d r i c k s o n was b o r n with what she calls "itchy feet and the instinct to r o a m " in 1949 i n — w h e r e else?—Indiana. A voracious reader, she devoured Dostoyevski by the t i m e she was 11. Her mother, Mary, a retired school teacher, r e m e m b e r s her as a determined, intellectually c u r i o u s girl, " w h o was too bright a n d too far ahead to fit in . . . a square peg in a r o u n d hole." Hendrickson agrees that she had a h a r d time belonging after she reached high school in the middle-class t o w n of Munster. At 16, she would tell her parents that she was going to a friend's house. Instead she'd make the half-hour drive across the state line to Chicago, where she'd listen to folk music in the city's Old Town section or sit out on Navy Pier a n d wish she were far away. "Typical teenage depression," she laughs. "I was bored. I hated my high school a n d I hated my hometown."

IT

MUST

BE

A

T.

REX

7

After several nasty clashes, m o t h e r a n d d a u g h t e r agreed that a change of scenery was needed. H e n d r i c k s o n moved in with her a u n t and uncle in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, for her senior year of high school. W h e n they g r o u n d e d her for staying out all night, she ran away with her boyfriend. "He liked to dive a n d I loved the water, so o u r plan was to work on a s h r i m p boat in Lafitte, Louisiana," H e n d r i c k s o n says. On their first night there, however, a d r u n k e n local followed her o u t of a bar and tried to rape her. Although she escaped the attack u n h a r m e d , H e n d r i c k s o n had no desire to stay in the bayou country. She a n d her boyfriend took off, a n d for the next few years they crisscrossed the country, living a n d working o d d jobs in cities from Boston to San Francisco, where, d o w n to her last 36 cents, H e n d r i c k s o n p a w n e d her gold watch for $20. T h e y finally decided to a n c h o r themselves in the m a r i n a at San Rafael, California. Hendrickson, w h o had called her parents immediately after she ran away a n d had visited t h e m in Munster, asked her father to loan her the d o w n p a y m e n t on a 30-foot sailboat. He did. Soon she a n d her boyfriend were earning a living painting and varnishing the boats of their wealthy neighbors in the m a r i n a . Two years later, the couple split up. Long fascinated by tropical fish, Hendrickson headed to Florida after learning that divers were often needed to catch m u s e u m and h o m e a q u a r i u m specimens. She dove for a year in Key West, then moved to Seattle, where her parents had relocated. N o w 2 1 , she contemplated college for the first time since r u n n i n g away. She passed the GED high school equivalency test and talked with the chairman of the Marine Biology D e p a r t m e n t at the University of Washington. "I asked h i m what I would get for seven years of study (needed to earn an undergraduate degree and PhD)," she recalls. "He said I could probably dissect fish or take pollution counts. I decided I could just go back and do what all the other PhDs were doing: catch tropical fish." After working as a sail maker for a year, she returned to Florida. In 1973, while visiting diver friends in Key West, H e n d r i c k s o n was asked to help salvage a sunken freighter. "It was very h a r d work," she says. "But I liked the challenge." Over the next few years, she helped raise sunken planes a n d boats. She earned additional m o n e y diving for lobsters and selling t h e m to local restaurants. H e r best haul: 492 lobsters in one day.

8

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

H e n d r i c k s o n r e m e m b e r s that long before being pulled to the dinosaur, she had a knack for finding things. "I don't k n o w if it's a sixth sense or luck, b u t there's s o m e t h i n g going on. W h e n I'm attuned to s o m e t h i n g I'm looking for, I find it. Sometimes w h e n I'd be looking for lobsters or seashells, I'd just stop my b o a t a n d say, 'This feels good.' I couldn't see a thing. I'd d r o p a n c h o r in 30 feet, dive d o w n , and there was the shell. It would blow me away. There was no sensory perception. I couldn't smell it or see it." H e n d r i c k s o n fell in love with the D o m i n i c a n Republic while diving with a t e a m of m a r i n e archaeologists there in 1974. She r e t u r n e d w h e n ever she could. Always looking for n e w adventures, on o n e visit she went in search of the a m b e r mines she had heard a b o u t from the locals. In the m o u n t a i n s , miners showed her their treasures—golden-hued l u m p s formed from prehistoric resins that i m p r i s o n e d perfectly preserved scorpions, beetles, termites, a n d other insects. "It was amazing," says H e n d r i c k s o n . "It was like seeing a whole other world, a w i n d o w to the past." On subsequent visits she tried digging in the m o u n t a i n caves, but, she says, "It wasn't efficient. You could dig for years a n d never find an insect in amber." Instead, she began paying the m i n e r s for specimens. She didn't have to pay m u c h at first—$10 to $35 per piece—because there was only m i n i m a l d e m a n d for such fossils. At the time, most of the world's a m b e r came from the Baltic Sea area (as it still does). T h u s Hendrickson, w h o h a d b e c o m e proficient in Spanish d u r i n g her travels, was able to get in on the g r o u n d floor w h e n she decided to supply specimens from Central America to m u s e u m s a n d private collectors. In the mid-1980s, she began buying a m b e r from m i n e r s in Chiapas, Mexico, as well. M u s e u m s a r o u n d the world study a n d display a m b e r found by H e n d r i c k s o n . "She has the nose for p r o c u r i n g pieces of big impact," says Dr. Robert K. Robbins, C u r a t o r of E n t o m o l o g y at the Smithsonian Institution. He cites o n e of the Smithsonian Insect Zoo's prize possessions, an extinct Antilles butterfly s u s p e n d e d in amber. Only six butterflies in a m b e r have ever been found (three by H e n d r i c k s o n ) , and, says Robbins, "This o n e is probably the best. You can even see the tiny hairs that served as its taste buds."

IT

MUST

BE

A

T.

REX

9

Hendrickson sells s o m e a m b e r pieces to private collectors, b u t she always offers her scientifically i m p o r t a n t finds to m u s e u m s — a t cost. Such generosity leads Bakker to observe, "Sue is the late twentieth-cent u r y equivalent of Alfred Russel Wallace." Like Wallace, the n i n e t e e n t h century British naturalist a n d explorer w h o independently reached the same theory of evolution as D a r w i n , H e n d r i c k s o n seems motivated n o t by the desire for fame or fortune, b u t by a selfless "desire to share the earth's natural wonders," says Bakker. Hendrickson describes herself in simpler terms. " I ' m just a p e r s o n w h o loves finding things a n d learning everything a b o u t them," she says, adding that she has little interest in possessing t h e m . "It's the thrill of discovery. It's like the high from s o m e d r u g . It lasts a few m i n u t e s . And it's addictive." She smiles. " T h o s e m o m e n t s are few a n d far between, b u t that's what keeps you going." Hendrickson began looking for large fossils after meeting Swiss paleontologist Kirby Siber at a gem a n d mineral show in 1984. He invited her to help dig for prehistoric whales in Peru. There, in 1985, she met Larson. T h e two soon became involved b o t h professionally a n d romantically. On one of their first expeditions, they almost froze to death searching for meteorites in the Peruvian m o u n t a i n s . "We didn't have the right gear to stay up at that elevation overnight," H e n d r i c k s o n says, " b u t we looked at each other a n d realized that this was too good an o p p o r t u n i ty to pass up." In 1987, Hendrickson began helping Larson h u n t for dinosaurs a n d other ancient fossils at the M a s o n Quarry. She was, says Larson, a quick study. "Susan loves to learn," he says. "She gets attached to a subject a n d reads everything a n d asks questions. I'm the kind of person w h o will tell you ten times m o r e t h a n you want to k n o w a b o u t s o m e t h i n g . Well, she wants to k n o w that." Larson had plenty to tell. He h a d been collecting fossils since 1956, when at the age of 4, he had spied a small brownish object in a ditch near the small farm on which he lived near Mission, South Dakota, some 200 miles southeast of M o u n t R u s h m o r e . His parents took h i m to Mission, where friends June a n d Albert Zeitner, w h o ran a small geologic m u s e u m , identified the find as the t o o t h of an o r e o d o n t , a camellike m a m m a l that lived 25 million years ago.

10

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

" F r o m that day on, I k n e w I wanted to h u n t fossils," he says. "Here was s o m e t h i n g millions of years old, extinct, b u t it was still here. That was unbelievable. I loved living animals. I wanted to k n o w the stories of the animals that weren't here anymore." W i t h i n a few years, he and his younger b r o t h e r Neal a n d their older brother M a r k had collected e n o u g h fossils a n d rocks to o p e n up a " m u s e u m " in a 12-foot-by- 15foot outbuilding on their property, which lay within the borders of the Rosebud Indian Reservation. While other kids played cowboys and Indians, "we played curator," Larson says. They charged the adults in their family five cents admission. By eighth grade, Larson had won the state science fair with an exhibit on fossils. "I was kind of a nerd," he confesses. In 1970, he enrolled at the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology, o n e of the few schools he could afford to attend. There he majored in geology only because there was no major in paleontology. T h e p r a g m a t i c powers at the school p u s h e d Larson a n d his fellow majors towards careers in the oil industry. Larson wasn't interested. "I wanted to h u n t for fossils," he says. H e n r y Fairfield O s b o r n , the distinguished scientist w h o founded the D e p a r t m e n t of Vertebrate Paleontology at the American M u s e u m of Natural History in 1897 a n d then headed the institution when it rose to p r o m i n e n c e at the beginning of the twentieth century, provided a job description of the fossil hunter, circa 1909: T h e fossil h u n t e r m u s t first of all be a scientific enthusiast. He m u s t be willing to e n d u r e all kinds of hardships, to suffer cold in the early spring a n d the late a u t u m n a n d early winter m o n t h s , to suffer intense heat a n d the glare of the sun in s u m m e r m o n t h s , a n d he m u s t be prepared to d r i n k alkali water, and in s o m e regions to fight off the attack of the m o s q u i t o and other pests. He m u s t be s o m e t h i n g of an engineer in order to h a n d l e large masses of stone a n d t r a n s p o r t t h e m over roadless wastes of desert to the nearest shipping point; he must have a delicate a n d skillful t o u c h to

preserve the least fragments of

b o n e w h e n fractured; he m u s t be content with very plain living, because the profession is seldom if ever, remunerative, a n d he is almost invariably u n d e r p a i d ; he m u s t find his chief reward and

IT M U S T BE A

T.

REX

1 1

stimulus in the sense of discovery a n d in the dispatching of specimens to m u s e u m s which he has never seen for the benefit of a public which has little knowledge or appreciation of the self-sacrifices which the fossil h u n t e r has m a d e . This was the ideal Larson aspired to w h e n , after g r a d u a t i n g from college in 1974, he a n d fellow student Jim H o n e r t went into b u s i n e s s — finding small fossils, rocks, a n d minerals a n d selling t h e m to colleges. Their company, Black Hills Minerals, a n d its successor, the Black Hills Institute, weren't b o r n of a desire to get rich. However, they were forprofit ventures. " I ' m a capitalist," says Peter Larson. " I ' m p r o u d to be a capitalist. I think the capitalist system works. It creates m o n e y so that wonderful things can happen." Larson a n d H o n e r t quickly realized that colleges weren't the only institutions that wanted their finds. Says Larson, "It b e c a m e increasingly obvious that m u s e u m s really needed the service, because they h a d no way to get t h e m . They didn't have the funds to send full-time people o u t searching for fossils or preparing fossils for exhibition." T h e shift from h a n d specimens to m u s e u m pieces eventually sent Larson searching for the biggest fossil of all. In 1977, the Natural History M u s e u m of Vienna, to which Larson had helped sell an ancient turtle, said it would like a dinosaur. By this time he was operating as Black Hills Minerals a n d had been joined by his b r o t h e r Neal a n d Bob Farrar, b o t h graduates of the School of Mines. "We said, ' N o problem,'" Larson laughs, adding, "We didn't have a dinosaur. We didn't even k n o w where to dig dinosaurs." Two years later they journeyed to Faith, 150 miles northeast of Hill City, at the invitation of an octogenarian n a m e d Ruth Mason. Her land lies in a stretch of badlands called the Hell Creek F o r m a t i o n . As a y o u n g girl Ms. Mason had found what she t h o u g h t were d i n o s a u r b o n e s on her property and had been trying to interest paleontologists in digging there since the early 1900s. T h e Larsons were the first to take her up on her offer. In his b o o k The Complete T. Rex, paleontologist Jack Horner, curator of the M u s e u m of the Rockies, based in Bozeman, M o n t a n a , p r o vides the following "recipe" for m a k i n g a fossil: "An animal dies. Soon after death its flesh rots away. Over t i m e sediment covers the bones.

12

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

T h a t sediment c o m p a c t s into rock. Minerals enter into the b o n e within the rock a n d preserve it." Recent experiments suggest that bacteria associated with the decaying carcass cause the minerals to precipitate out of groundwater, thereby fossilizing the b o n e . Sand a n d silt are necessary recipe ingredients. Just add water—a slow-moving stream or river clogged with dirt or debris will d o — a n d voila! Of course, there is quite a bit of time between preparation and presentation; only after erosion occurs a n d the rock is swept away will the fossilized b o n e s be visible. T h e age of d i n o s a u r s began d u r i n g the Mesozoic Era about 225 million years ago a n d lasted for 160 million years, t h r o u g h the Triassic, Jurassic, a n d Cretaceous periods. T h e Hell Creek F o r m a t i o n and equivalent formations, which extend from South Dakota into Wyoming, M o n t a n a , a n d the C a n a d i a n province of Alberta, were the perfect kitchens for fossil creation d u r i n g the final o n e or two million years of the Cretaceous period, which lasted from a b o u t 144 million BC to 65 million B C . W h a t is n o w n o r t h central N o r t h America was w a r m a n d s w a m p y then, with shallow seas a n d w i n d i n g rivers—not cool a n d barren as it is today. D u r i n g the Cretaceous period the landscape was rich in flora similar to the vegetation o n e finds in the s o u t h e r n United States t o d a y — ferns, flowering plants, p a l m trees, a n d redwoods. S o m e of the creatures that m o v e d a b o u t this landscape or flew above it or swam in the seas a n d rivers live on today. Birds filled the skies. Sharks a n d turtles swam the seas a n d rivers. Insects such as spiders a n d m a m m a l s similar to the o p o s s u m were a b u n d a n t (although d u r i n g the entire 150 million years d i n o s a u r s ruled the earth, no m a m m a l got m u c h larger than a house cat). O t h e r Cretaceous creatures, which have n o t survived the last 65 million years, were also plentiful. M a n y of these were reptiles. The flying pterosaurs d o m i n a t e d the air. Fish-like ichthyosaurs inhabited the seas, as did giant m a r i n e lizards, the mosasaurs. And, of course, d i n o saurs r o a m e d the earth. M a n y k i n d s of d i n o s a u r s h a d already b e c o m e extinct as the Cretaceous period d r e w to a close, b u t large herds of duck-bills and Triceratops still m o v e d a b o u t . They spent their s u m m e r s in the n o r t h , t h e n migrated s o u t h to w a r m e r climes for the winter. D o m i n a t i n g the

IT

MUST

BE

A

T.

REX

13

landscape was another d i n o s a u r — a ferocious carnivore that stood upwards of a dozen feet at the hip a n d u p w a r d s of 35 feet long from head to tail—Tyrannosaurus rex. On Mason's land, the Larsons soon found remains of the duckbilled dinosaur, Edmontosaurus annectens. A n d n o t just o n e dinosaur. Inexplicably, t h o u s a n d s of duck-bills h a d died there a n d were deposited as a b o n e bed in the graveyard quarry. T h e institute team spent the better part of the next two years excavating bones a n d then trying to piece t h e m together to reconstruct a complete dinosaur. Finally, in the spring of 1981, Peter Larson took the assembled bones to Switzerland. There, he h o p e d to sell the specimen with the help of Kirby Siber, w h o h a d invested m o n e y in the project. T h e two m e n h a d first m e t in the mid-1970s at a gem a n d mineral show in Tucson, Arizona. Larson, just starting o u t in the business, had b r o u g h t several specimens to sell. He had mixed e m o t i o n s a b o u t parting with his favorite, a pearl-white a m m o n i t e , an extinct relative of the c h a m b e r e d nautilus. "I m a r k e d it outrageously high, $700, because I really didn't want to sell it," he r e m e m b e r s . A French collector offered $450. " N o thanks," said Larson. Finally, a n o t h e r buyer offered the full $700. This time Larson said, "Thanks." T h e institute could use the money. Soon Larson learned that the purchaser, w h o t u r n e d o u t to be Siber, had immediately resold the a m m o n i t e . . . for $1400. Any ill will toward Siber was mitigated by the fact that the Swiss paleontologist b o u g h t several pieces from Larson at the show, giving the institute a bit of financial breathing r o o m . Although the duck-bill Larson took to Switzerland h a d been excavated over a three-year period, the institute had yet to receive any m o n e y for the t h o u s a n d s of m a n - h o u r s already spent on the project at the Mason Q u a r r y a n d in the p r e p a r a t i o n lab; Larson h a d never signed a contract with the Viennese m u s e u m . To stay afloat d u r i n g this period, the institute had borrowed a b o u t $60,000, s o m e at an interest rate exceeding 20 percent. While in Switzerland, Larson learned that the m u s e u m did n o t have the funds to purchase the duck-bill. With no a p p a r e n t m e a n s for meeting his loan obligation, he feared that he m i g h t have to go o u t of business. Fortunately, a n o t h e r commercial collector, Allen Graffliam, p u t

14

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

h i m in touch with the Ulster M u s e u m in Belfast, Ireland. T h e m u s e u m paid $150,000 for the dinosaur, b u t Larson didn't see any of that m o n e y until 1988. After paying Graffham his sales commission and Siber for his investment, the institute ended up m a k i n g less than $1 per h o u r on the transaction, Larson estimates. Teams from the institute worked the q u a r r y for duck-bills t h r o u g h o u t the 1980s, eventually reconstructing n i n e m o r e specimens, the last three bringing m o r e t h a n $300,000 each from m u s e u m s in Japan, Europe, a n d the United States. D u r i n g this period, Larson spent time collecting in South America as well as in South Dakota. In 1985 the institute and the Peruvian g o v e r n m e n t entered into a partnership that yielded several scientifically i m p o r t a n t specimens, including a new family of sharks a n d a previously u n k n o w n m a r i n e sloth. Larson, Siber, and Hendrickson also d o n a t e d their t i m e a n d m o n e y to build a m u s e u m off the Pan American Highway s o u t h of the Peruvian city of Nasca. The m u s e u m features a 12-million-year-old baleen whale that is displayed where it was discovered—in the sands of a desert that was once ocean. By 1990, the institute had b e c o m e o n e of the largest suppliers of m u s e u m specimens in the world, doing business with, a m o n g others, the Smithsonian Institution, American M u s e u m of Natural History, Field M u s e u m , C a r n e g i e Institute, H o u s t o n M u s e u m o f Natural Sciences, Denver M u s e u m of Natural History, Natural History M u s e u m of Los Angeles County, Yale's Peabody M u s e u m , a n d m u s e u m s in Germany, Japan, a n d Great Britain. T h e institute was also o n e of the largest employers in Hill City (population 650), with a full-time staff of eleven working out of the former American Legion Hall on Main Street. T h e bright white two-story Art Deco structure built by the WPA d u r i n g the Depression housed the institute's offices, library, fossil preparation lab, storage area, a n d gift shop, a n d it featured a modest s h o w r o o m that attracted a small percentage of the 2 million tourists w h o came to the Black Hills each year to visit nearby M o u n t R u s h m o r e . This s h o w r o o m h a d no T. rex. Rather, it exhibited considerably smaller finds such as a y h - i n c h t o o t h from a 60-foot long prehistoric shark and n u m e r o u s colorful a m m o n i t e s . Over the years, the institute has sold s o m e finds for considerable a m o u n t s of money. Still, n o n e of the principals has b e c o m e wealthy. Excavation a n d reconstruction of specimens is extremely costly, and, as

IT

MUST

BE

A

T.

REX

15

the case of the Ulster duck-bill illustrates, sales transactions sometimes take years. As self-described "Republican paleontologists," the Larson brothers rejected the idea of applying for g o v e r n m e n t grants because of their distaste for bureaucracy. Peter Larson, w h o lives in an old trailer a few yards from the institute's back door, cites a n o t h e r reason for his bare-bones existence. "We set aside the best specimens for the m u s e u m we'd always d r e a m e d of building." T h e Larson b r o t h e r s did not charge admission to the institute's s h o w r o o m , and they didn't plan on charging admission to the m u s e u m of their dreams, if a n d w h e n it ever b e c a m e a reality. "Education is the most i m p o r t a n t thing, and we don't believe people should have to pay for education," says Neal Larson. He a n d Peter a n d other institute staffers give 30 to 60 school talks a year, taking their fossil displays a r o u n d the Black Hills area. T h e y also speak to a m a t e u r groups, rock clubs, and colleges a n d take people o u t collecting free of charge. The Larsons, Hendrickson, and an institute crew that included Peter's 10-year old son Matthew a n d Neal's 15-year-old son Jason, spent m u c h of the s u m m e r of 1990 in the area a r o u n d the Mason Quarry. Shortly after the fossil hunters arrived, they found a dead horse belonging to Maurice Williams, a o n e - q u a r t e r Native American whose large cattle ranch on the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation lay just to the east of Ms. Mason's property. W h e n Williams came by to claim the animal, he asked Peter Larson a b o u t the dig. "He was fascinated," says Larson. " H e said, 'I've got land with badlands on it. Why don't you c o m e over a n d look for dinosaurs?' I said, 'Great. We don't pay a lot, b u t if we find s o m e thing of significance, we'll pay you.'" Williams also suggested that Larson call his brother Sharkey, w h o o w n e d similar land in the area. Sharkey Williams, n o w deceased, also invited the institute to dig on his property. While the institute team initially found little on Maurice Williams's land, they did find a few partial Triceratops skulls on his brother's p r o p erty. On the m o r n i n g of August 12, they were preparing to excavate a skull when they noticed a flat tire on their collecting truck, a rusting, green 1975 S u b u r b a n . They changed the tire a n d saw that the spare was also dangerously low on air. His tire p u m p broken, Larson decided to drive into Faith to get the two tires fixed. He invited H e n d r i c k s o n to join h i m on the 4 5 - m i n u t e drive.

16

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

She declined. T h e dig was to e n d in a couple of days, a n d she wanted to explore the s a n d s t o n e cliff that had been calling her ever since she h a d spied it from several miles away two weeks earlier. "I'd kept thinking, I gotta get over there," H e n d r i c k s o n recalls, " b u t you're so tired, just physically exhausted at the end of the day." Maurice Williams had asked that they keep their vehicles off his property, so Hendrickson knew that she would have to walk to the cliff over rugged terrain. N o w she finally h a d the time to do it. "It was foggy," she says. "It never gets foggy in South Dakota in the s u m m e r , b u t it was foggy that day." Although the rare mist prevented her from seeing her destination, H e n d r i c k s o n set o u t with her dog on the 7-mile hike to the cliff. "I told myself, ' D o n ' t walk in a circle,' but that's just what I did." After two h o u r s she found herself back where she h a d started. "I started to cry," she confesses. Her failure to find the cliff was not the only cause for tears. D u r i n g their t i m e at the quarry, she a n d Larson h a d mutually agreed to break u p . D e t e r m i n e d to find o u t what had been calling her, Hendrickson waited until the fog lifted a n d began the trek a second time. Two h o u r s later she stood at the foot of the 60-foot-high, buff-colored formation. "It's n o t easy to find fossils," Larson says. "You're trying to figure out what's b o n e a n d what's not. You're seeing fragments a n d trying to imagine what they are, selecting which fragments are i m p o r t a n t . You have to have a good eye that can spot textural differences a n d color differences. Susan does." Bakker adds: "There are some people w h o can find fossils and s o m e w h o can't. Sue has the talent for getting a sense of place in a paleontological context. You m u s t be b o r n with it. She was. And she has h o n e d it." H e n d r i c k s o n began her search by walking along the b o t t o m of the cliff, eyes on the g r o u n d . "Usually you walk along the b o t t o m to see if anything has dribbled down," she explains. "If you don't see anything, you walk along the m i d d l e of the formation, if it's n o t too steep. And t h e n you might walk a third t i m e across the top, just to hit the different levels." Halfway t h r o u g h her first pass at the b o t t o m , she saw a " b u n c h of d r i b b l e d - d o w n bones." W h e r e h a d they c o m e from? Hendrickson

IT

MUST

BE

A

T.

REX

17

looked up. "Just above eye level, a b o u t 8 feet high, there it was: three large dinosaur vertebrae a n d a femur weathering out of the cliff. It was so exciting because they were very large a n d because of the shape. T h e carnivores like T. rex h a d concave vertebrae from the disk; it dips in. T h e herbivores—the Triceratops or duck-bills is what you almost always find—have very straight vertebrae. So I k n e w it was a carnivore. I k n e w it was really big. And therefore I felt it m u s t be T. rex, b u t it can't be T. rex because you don't find T. rex." At the t i m e only 11 other T. rex h a d ever been found. T. rex actually lived closer in t i m e to the first h u m a n s (about 60 million years apart) t h a n it did to the first dinosaurs (about 160 million years apart). It first appeared toward the end of the Cretaceous period, probably a b o u t 67 million years ago. Its evolutionary history remains somewhat cloudy, b u t several respected scientists believe that it m a y have been closely related to a Mongolian meat eater, Tarbosaurus bataar (also called Tyrannosaurus bataar). It is possible that descendants of this d i n o s a u r emigrated from what is n o w Asia to what is n o w N o r t h America; the continents were connected at that time. The famous fossil collector B a r n u m Brown found the first three T. rex in the W y o m i n g and M o n t a n a badlands in the early 1900s while on expeditions for the N e w York-based American M u s e u m of Natural History. Like the Larsons, Brown b e c a m e interested in fossils at an early age, collecting specimens uncovered by the plow on his family's farm in C a r b o n Hill, Kansas. A n d like H e n d r i c k s o n , he seemed to possess a sixth sense for finding bones, or at least a u n i q u e fifth o n e . "Brown is the m o s t amazing collector I have ever k n o w n . He m u s t be able to smell fossils," said H e n r y Fairfield O s b o r n . It wasn't Brown's sense of smell b u t his vision that resulted in his first M o n t a n a find in 1902. M o n t h s earlier, William Hornaday, the director of the New York Zoological Society, had s h o w n Brown a paperweight m a d e from a fossil he h a d found while h u n t i n g in eastern M o n t a n a . Brown identified the fossil as d i n o s a u r — p a r t of a Triceratops h o r n . After looking at p h o t o g r a p h s of the area where H o r n a d a y had been h u n t i n g , Brown sensed that the land, p a r t of the Hell Creek Formation, might be ripe with dinosaurs. He was right. In July 1902, Brown found d i n o s a u r bones in a sandstone bluff on the same ranch where H o r n a d a y h a d found his fossil. T h e

18

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

skeleton, which contained a b o u t 10 percent of the creature's bones, was n o t fully excavated a n d shipped to New York until 1905. By that time O s b o r n had identified it as a n e w species of dinosaur, which he christened Tyrannosaurus rex ("tyrant lizard king"). In 1907, Brown discovered a second T. rex skeleton in eastern M o n t a n a . This specimen was even better t h a n the first—with 45 percent of the bones, including an excellent skull—"a ten strike," in Brown's words. In between these finds, O s b o r n d e t e r m i n e d that bones Brown h a d found in 1900 in the Lance Creek Beds of W y o m i n g were also those of a T. rex. T h e T. rex was the biggest carnivore discovered to date. It had m a s sive legs, a short, thick neck, a n d a n a r r o w chest. Its tail was relatively short, a n d its hips were relatively narrow. Its a r m s were surprisingly small, a b o u t the length of h u m a n arms—just 3 feet long. It had two fingers. Its huge skull was heavily reinforced, distinguishing it from other big carnivores. It h a d sharp, deadly teeth the size a n d shape of bananas. W h e n those teeth fell out, new ones replaced t h e m . T h e dinosaur itself m a y never have stopped growing. As the biggest, baddest dinosaur, T. rex quickly captured the fancy of early twentieth-century America. T h e press d u b b e d it " T h e Prize Fighter of A n t i q u i t y " a n d hyperbolized that "the swift two-footed tyrant m u n c h e d giant a m p h i b i a n s a n d elephant au naturel." In 1915, record crowds flocked to the American M u s e u m when it m o u n t e d the first p u b lic exhibition of a T. rex, unveiling a fully restored, freestanding skeleton of Brown's second M o n t a n a find. As Philip Currie, curator of dinosaurs at Canada's Royal Tyrrell M u s e u m of Paleontology, wrote in the preface to Sotheby's catalog for Sue, Tyrannosaurus rex became the "standard against which other dinosaurs are measured . . . the most famous dinosaur." Most paleontologists consider a T. rex, which has approximately 300 b o n e s , scientifically significant if it is at least 10 percent complete. Some, like Larson, d e t e r m i n e this percentage based on the n u m b e r of bones found. O t h e r s peg their figure to the percentage of the dinosaur's total surface area f o u n d , n o m a t t e r h o w m a n y b o n e s are recovered. P r o p o n e n t s of each m e t h o d agree that 59 years passed between Brown's last find a n d the discovery of the fourth T. rex in 1966 by Harley G a r b a n i , a professional p l u m b e r a n d longtime a m a t e u r paleontologist

IT

MUST

BE

A

T.

REX

19

collecting in eastern M o n t a n a for the Los Angeles C o u n t y M u s e u m of Natural History. Over the next 24 years, seven m o r e T rex w o u l d be found in M o n t a n a , South Dakota, a n d Alberta. T h e best of these specimens, the eleventh T. rex, was found in 1988 in the eastern M o n t a n a badlands by Kathy Wankel, a local rancher. H o r n e r a n d a crew from the M u s e u m of the Rockies excavated the skeleton in June 1990, just two m o n t h s before Hendrickson m a d e her discovery. Forty feet long and, according to Horner, almost 90 percent complete, this find d e t h r o n e d — for the m o m e n t , anyway—Brown's A m e r i c a n M u s e u m T. rex as the finest ever. W h e n H e n d r i c k s o n found what she t h o u g h t might be the twelfth T. rex, she tried to contain her excitement. "I didn't j u m p up a n d d o w n a n d scream," she says. "But I was thinking, Wow! W h a t was so cool was that the vertebrae were mostly going into the hill, so it looked like the p o t e n tial for m o r e . Usually you find the last little bit of b o n e a n d there's n o t h ing m o r e [because it has e r o d e d ] . I knew this was part of o n e specimen, and that if the visible b o n e s were all there was, it would have been i m p o r t a n t . But I knew there was more." Hendrickson didn't disturb the bones in the cliff. She did, however, pick up a few pieces from the g r o u n d , each about Wi to 2 inches across. "They were all hollow," she says. "I've picked up t h o u s a n d s of o t h e r pieces of bones before, a n d they were all solid." T h e r o p o d s , the class of carnivorous dinosaurs that included T. rex, were hollow-boned, like birds. T h e excitement building, Hendrickson flew back to c a m p , where she knew Larson would have resumed excavating after the trip to town. She found Larson on his knees digging up the Triceratops skull on Sharkey Williams's land. "Pete, I have to show you something," she said breathlessly. "I had never seen T. rex vertebrae, b u t I k n e w that's exactly what I was looking at," says Larson. He is an u n a s s u m i n g m a n , t r i m with sandy hair a n d a thick mustache. Dressed in khaki slacks a n d a plaid shirt, he wears w i r e - r i m m e d glasses. He looks like an athletic academic as he sits in his small, book-filled office in the institute's basement r e m e m b e r i n g the discovery. Just d o w n the hall, a technician is using a device called an airbrade to clean s o m e d i n o s a u r bones. T h e airbrade sprays p o w d e r with compressed air to blow off dust a n d rock from the b o n e . T h e basem e n t s o u n d s like a dentist's office.

20

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

H o w did Larson know Hendrickson had brought him T. rex vertebrae? "The size of the fragments, the curvature of the bone. The open spaces." He picks up a cervical vertebra from a T. rex found after Sue. "It's been waterworn before it was fossilized, and you can see where the surface of the b o n e has been weathered away," he explains. "You can see these open spaces inside, kind of a h o n e y c o m b texture. That's exactly the same texture you find in bird bones and theropods—where birds come from. This is all connected to the respiratory system through the openings right here. There are air sacs, just like birds. I just knew what the fragments were." Identifying fossils was not always so easy. In his delightful b o o k Dinosaur Hunters, David A. E. Spalding, the former head curator of natural history at the Provincial M u s e u m of Alberta, tells the story of one Robert Plot. Plot was a seventeenth-century British naturalist a n d the first curator of the Ashmolean M u s e u m in Oxford. Like m a n y scientists of the day, he was still influenced by the mysticism of the Middle Ages. He speculated that fossils might have been created by petrifying juices to a d o r n the inside of the earth, just as flowers had been m a d e to a d o r n the surface. In his 1677 o p u s The History of Oxfordshire, Plot provided an illustration of what appears to be a d i n o s a u r b o n e . If so, it is the first p u b lished record of such a fossil. Of course, Plot didn't identify it as such; the word " d i n o s a u r " — f r o m the Greek deinos, m e a n i n g "terrible," a n d sauros, m e a n i n g "lizard"—was coined 165 years later in 1842 by the British paleontologist a n d anatomist Sir Richard O w e n . Instead, Plot said that the b o n e , d u g from a q u a r r y a n d given to h i m by a fellow Englishman, was similar to the lowermost part of the thigh of a m a n "or s o m e greater animal t h a n either an Ox or Horse a n d if so it m u s t have been the Bone of s o m e Elephant, b r o u g h t hither d u r i n g the Governm e n t of the R o m a n s in Britain." After seeing a living elephant for the first time, Plot changed his m i n d . T h e b o n e m u s t have belonged to s o m e giant m a n or w o m a n , he said. While the actual fossil has been lost, Spalding argues that the illustration is clearly that of a d i n o s a u r b o n e , probably of the carnivorous Megalosaurus. Fast forward almost 90 years to 1763 a n d the publication of Richard Brookes's

The Natural History of Waters,

Earths,

Stones, Fossils,

and

Minerals. Brookes copied Plot's drawing a n d described it as Scrotum

IT

MUST

BE

A

T.

REX

21

humanum. Writes Spalding: "It is not k n o w n w h e t h e r this was a serious attempt at identification or a bizarre joke." Brookes's description was taken seriously by J. B. Robinet, a French philosopher. In 1768, Robinet called the fossil a "stony scrotum." Such objects represented nature's a t t e m p t s to form h u m a n organs in a quest to create the perfect h u m a n type, he hypothesized. Eager to test his hypothesis that H e n d r i c k s o n h a d found a T. rex, Larson hustled his colleague into the institute's truck. T h e y sped to Maurice Williams's fence line, then ran the additional 2 miles to the cliff. "Here," Hendrickson said, pointing to the b o n e s , "this is my going-away gift to you." The normally m i l d - m a n n e r e d Larson admits that he got excited. "Sue took me over to the spot, a n d there were literally t h o u s a n d s of little fragments of b o n e lying on the g r o u n d a n d s o m e bigger pieces a n d you could see there were parts of vertebrae a n d we looked up a b o u t 7 feet up on the face of this cliff a n d there was this cross section of b o n e s a b o u t 8 feet long c o m i n g o u t a n d I crawled up there a n d we could see three articulated vertebrae. And I knew at that instant that it was all there. Call it intuition or whatever. I just knew. I k n e w this was g o n n a be the best thing we'd ever found a n d probably ever w o u l d find." After locating the cliff on a t o p o g r a p h i c m a p , Larson called his assistant, M a r i o n Zenker, at the institute a n d asked her to verify that Maurice Williams o w n e d the section of land on which the cliff was located. Williams had given permission to look on his property, b u t determining w h o owns what within the b o u n d a r i e s of a reservation is often problematic. Some land is o w n e d outright by individuals. Some land is owned by the tribe. S o m e land is leased from the tribe by individuals. And s o m e land o w n e d by individuals is held in trust by the federal government. In s o m e instances, o n e ranch " o w n e d " by a Native American may include parcels of land that fall into all these categories. Larson wanted to make sure he was dealing with the t r u e o w n e r of the site where the bones sat. Zenker called the land registrar for Ziebach County, where the ranch was located. T h e registrar told her that Maurice Williams o w n e d the land a n d had a couple of oil leases on file. Larson called Williams that night. "I told h i m we had found s o m e thing that looked really good," Larson says. Williams gave h i m p e r m i s -

22

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

sion to excavate, b u t still forbade h i m to drive o n t o the property. "I told Maurice, 'It's big. We're going to have to drive on at least once to take it off,' a n d he said, 'Okay,'" Larson r e m e m b e r s . T h a t night dinosaurs visited Larson as he slept. Such visits weren't u n c o m m o n , especially w h e n the paleontologist was on a dig. "I always d r e a m a b o u t what I'm going to find," he says. Larson wanted his b r o t h e r Neal, w h o had gone h o m e for the weekend, to see the site before the digging began. "I was t h i n k i n g I'd be c o m i n g back a n d we'd be closing up the quarry for the summer," Neal says. " T h e n I got a p h o n e call from Peter on Saturday night." " W h e n you c o m e back, I want you to b r i n g l u m b e r and plaster of Paris, and, oh, b r i n g the trailer, too," Peter Larson said as nonchalantly as possible. " W h a t did you find, Pete, a skeleton?" "You'll see." Neal was hooked now. " W h a t kind of skeleton? Is it a Triceratops?" "You'll see w h e n you get here." "Is it a duck-bill?" "You'll see." Older b r o t h e r s didn't t o r m e n t younger brothers in the days dinosaurs r o a m e d the e a r t h — b u t only because there weren't any h u m a n s a r o u n d then. Neal Larson was eager to learn what kind of skeleton had been found, b u t he wasn't eager e n o u g h to leave for the q u a r r y the next day. "It was Sunday, a n d I h a d n ' t been to church for a few weeks," he explains. Neal, a little r o u n d e r a n d a little less studious looking t h a n Peter, arrived in Faith on Monday, August 14, with the trailer and all the other supplies on Peter's s h o p p i n g list. By that time, Peter had christened the d i n o s a u r Sue, after H e n d r i c k s o n , w h o still has mixed e m o t i o n s about the appellation. "I'm deeply honored," she says. "It's just that I've never liked my n a m e — S u e , Susan, whatever. I just don't care for it." She adds, "Of course, at the p o i n t Pete n a m e d it after m e , it was just three articulated vertebrae. We didn't k n o w h o w great she'd be." Before Neal's arrival, Larson h a d also videotaped a n d shot still p h o tos of the find a n d h a d taken the other m e m b e r s of the team to the cliff, including Terry Wentz, the institute's chief fossil preparator, a n d the two

IT

MUST

BE

A

T.

REX

23

boys, Matthew a n d Jason Larson. D u r i n g their weeks at the quarry, Matthew had found m o r e t h a n a dozen teeth apparently shed by T. rex. Hendrickson hadn't found any, a fact that M a t t h e w never let her forget. Responding to his g o o d - n a t u r e d teasing, H e n d r i c k s o n h a d laughed: "Matt, I just want to find the whole thing." N o w they w o u l d see just h o w whole the skeleton was. Peter Larson walked Neal to the cliff, a n d said, "Gee, can you tell me what it is?" He was still playing the big brother. "Well, it's big." "Yeah." "Is it T. rexV asked Neal, w h o h a d never seen such bones before. Just like the d i n o s a u r itself, the site of a find is of great scientific i m p o r t a n c e . It may contain fossilized plants or b o n e s from o t h e r ancient creatures that provide a context for the dinosaur's life. G o o d paleontologists a n d fossil h u n t e r s don't just excavate a find, they harvest the rock a r o u n d it as well. Example: In 1996 John Flynn, head of the Field Museum's geology d e p a r t m e n t , r e t u r n e d from a d i n o s a u r dig in Madagascar with, a m o n g other things, a 5 0 - p o u n d bag of dirt collected at the site. Over the next three years, m u s e u m volunteers sifted the dirt t h r o u g h screens a n d then used microscopes to look for fossils. In 1999, the m u s e u m a n n o u n c e d that the dirt had yielded a 165-million-year-old fragment of the jaw of a mouse-sized m a m m a l . T h e fragment, only half the length of a grain of rice a n d containing three teeth invisible to the u n a i d e d eye, proved for the first time that m a m m a l s were alive a n d sharing the world's s o u t h e r n continents with dinosaurs far earlier t h a n previously believed. Larson's crew began by picking up all the scraps from the g r o u n d a n d putting t h e m in plastic bags, which they carefully labeled. They then bagged m u c h of the s u r r o u n d i n g dirt for future screening. Next, they stabilized the bones sticking out from the cliff with a h a r d e n e r a n d covered t h e m with b u r l a p a n d plaster of Paris—a t e c h n i q u e first described by the English geologist Sir H e n r y T h o m a s de la Beche in 1836 and perfected in the late n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y by those h u n t i n g bones in the American West. This was easy c o m p a r e d to the next task: removing 29 feet of overburden. For five days the Larson brothers, H e n d r i c k s o n , a n d Wentz worked with pick a n d shovel to clear the sandstone a n d h a r d soil above

24

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

the skeleton. "These were the hottest days of the summer," says Hendrickson. " T h e t e m p e r a t u r e was 115 plus. You're trying to find shade, b u t there is n o n e . And we don't stop at noon." T h e y d u b b e d the site "Tyrable M o u n t a i n . " O n c e d o w n to the level of the skeleton, the team would use knives, brushes, a n d smaller tools to remove the bones. But before this removal could begin, m o s t of the bones required special treatment. Those in danger of cracking were glued on the spot with commercial Superglue. Those in danger of c r u m b l i n g were squirted with a liquid solution that hardened them. D o c u m e n t a t i o n of a dig is critical. Scientists studying a specimen in the lab want to k n o w where each a n d every part was found in the field. Larson's t e a m used a m a p p i n g technique learned from Bakker, marking the location of each b o n e by tracing it full scale on butcher paper. They also t o o k still p h o t o s a n d videotape. Maurice Williams visited three or four times d u r i n g the excavation. A tall, sturdy m a n , he is seen on the videotape in sunglasses, wearing a T-shirt a n d baseball cap. On o n e occasion, the crew took a break a n d helped h i m d e h o r n s o m e cattle. On a n o t h e r occasion, the institute camcorder captured the following conversation between the rancher and Peter Larson: Williams:

You are going to m o u n t her in Hill City.

Larson:

Yeah.

Williams:

G o o d . (Pause) And u n d e r that you'll write, "Stolen from Maurice Williams."

Williams, Larson, a n d the others at the site all laughed at this last line. T h e Larsons quickly d e t e r m i n e d that Sue was large for a T. rex. Her 54-inch femur suggested that she w o u l d have stood 13 feet tall at the hip a n d 41 feet long, a foot taller a n d 2 to 3 feet longer than B a r n u m Brown's famous T. rex at the A m e r i c a n M u s e u m of Natural History. "At that size, r u n n i n g at 25 to 40 miles an hour, this was o n e big, terrible dinosaur," says Neal Larson. Brown's lengthy excavation of the first M o n t a n a T. rex in the pretruck era presented n u m e r o u s logistical problems. Encased in plaster, the dinosaur's pelvis alone weighed 4000 p o u n d s , far too m u c h for a

IT

MUST

BE

A

J.

REX

25

conventional h o r s e - d r a w n wagon. W h a t to do? Brown built a w o o d e n sledge a n d then hitched it to a team of four horses for the 125-mile j o u r ney to the closest railroad station. Excavating Sue was n o t nearly so problematic or t i m e - c o n s u m i n g . Because she was so complete a n d her b o n e s were confined to such a small area (about 25 feet by 30 feet), the crew was able to dig her o u t in only 17 days. Still, they suffered several anxious m o m e n t s — a c t u a l l y , several anxious days. Larson had immediately sensed that Sue "was all there." But was she? A week after removing the overburden, her skull—the m o s t i m p o r tant part of her b o d y from b o t h scientific a n d display standpoints—still hadn't surfaced. T h e n , on August 27, Larson hit s o m e t h i n g with his pick. "It's the S word," he excitedly told his crew. ("I didn't say 'skull' because I didn't want to jinx it," he later explained.) Larson's fellow diggers were skeptical. T h e paleontologist took pick to rock a n d again hit s o m e t h i n g hard. "I tell you it's the S word.'" But his crew r e m a i n e d skeptical until he found the curve of the cheek s o m e h o u r s later. T h e good news was that they'd found Sue's skull. T h e b a d news was that the nose was buried u n d e r Sue's hips, all 1500 p o u n d s of t h e m . "It seemed that it h a d stuck its head between its legs a n d kissed itself g o o d bye," Neal Larson later said with a laugh. Putting an e n d to this 67-million-year good-bye kiss on site w o u l d have m e a n t saying good-bye to the skull. It was sure to be severely d a m aged by any a t t e m p t to extricate it from the pelvis. T h e crew decided to remove these bones as a unit in a plaster-jacketed block. T h e n , back at the institute, the Larsons a n d Wentz could figure o u t the safest way to separate t h e m . Peter Larson says that he told Williams he would pay h i m for the fossil "early o n " after the discovery. Finding the skull triggered "negotiations." Says Larson: "After we could see what was there, I told Maurice, 'This is a really good specimen. I'll give you $5000 for it,' a n d he said, 'Fine.' I wrote on the check what it was for." The check was m a r k e d "For t h e r o p o d skeleton Sue/8-14-90-MW." Williams deposited the check the day after he received it. Excavated bones were w r a p p e d in foil a n d then jacketed in plaster. By August 3 1 , the crew, which had grown to six, h a d removed every-

26

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

thing except for the big block containing the skull and pelvis, sacrum, several dorsal vertebrae, ribs, the right leg, s o m e foot bones, and, they h o p e d , the right forelimb. W i t h c o n t i n u o u s u n d e r c u t t i n g a n d plastering, they had this block ready to be removed by 5:00 PM on September 1. Because a large r a i n s t o r m was heading their way, they decided not to wait overnight to pull the 9-foot-by-7-foot 9 0 0 0 - p o u n d block from the g r o u n d a n d o n t o the trailer. Three h o u r s later the trailer a n d three trucks carrying a n o t h e r 5 tons headed back to Hill City. There, the institute w o u l d begin the task of readying Sue for study a n d display. After s p e n d i n g the night in Hill City, Peter Larson and Sue H e n d r i c k s o n climbed into their respective trucks a n d drove in t a n d e m to Bozeman where they showed the pictures of their find to the M u s e u m of the Rockies' H o r n e r a n d discussed the fossil's future—a future that at the t i m e looked quite rosy. T h e couple's future was m u c h bleaker. Although they still cared deeply for o n e a n o t h e r a n d h a d just collaborated on what appeared to be o n e of the greatest d i n o s a u r finds in history, they remained c o m m i t ted t o e n d i n g t h e i r r o m a n c e . T w e n t y - f o u r h o u r s after reaching Bozeman, H e n d r i c k s o n bid Larson good-bye a n d left to visit her family in Seattle. She a n d Larson were sure they'd see each other again, b u t never in their wildest d r e a m s did they imagine the bizarre chain of events that w o u l d soon b r i n g t h e m face to face a n d cause t h e m b o t h such pain. A l t h o u g h she felt a deep kinship with her namesake, Hendrickson sought no r e m u n e r a t i o n for her efforts. T h e thrill of discovering the best T. rex ever was e n o u g h . A n d besides, Larson h a d said that he wanted to build a new m u s e u m in Hill City a n d make Sue its star attraction. No o n e h a d ever gotten rich finding a fossil, Hendrickson told herself, a n d no o n e was going to get rich because of this dinosaur.

2

NEVER,

EVER

FOR

SALE

"Six hundred thousand dollars," Redden said. The auction floor was abloom in blue paddles. "Sevenhundredthousandeighthundredtousandninehundredthousand." Redden had all he could do to harvest the bids. Sue Hendrickson sighed. Grounded in reality, she sensed that Peter Larson's angel might not have enough money to win back the T. rex. A fading color p h o t o g r a p h , circa 1960, hangs on a wall at the Black Hills Institute. T h e picture is set in a farmyard, where four y o u n g c h i l d r e n — three boys a n d a girl—stand by a table full of bones in front of a small w o o d e n building. On a nearby post that is a d o r n e d by a bleached cow skull, a cardboard sign lettered in a child's h a n d identifies the building. "MUSEUM," it boldly proclaims. Three weeks after bringing Sue h o m e to Hill City, two of the boys in the p h o t o g r a p h , n o w grown m e n , a n n o u n c e d in the Rapid City Journal that they h a d found what they believed to be the largest, most complete Tyrannosaurus rex. Peter a n d Neal Larson a d d e d that they intended to m a k e the d i n o s a u r the star attraction in a new m u s e u m — a m u s e u m they h a d d r e a m e d of building for m o r e t h a n 30 years. " T h e largest meat eater ever to walk the face of o u r planet w o u l d surely draw visitors to o u r door," Peter said. T h e T. rex will "never, ever" be for sale, Neal told the newspaper. Few newspapers or magazines outside South

27

28

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Dakota carried the story of the find or the plans for the m u s e u m ; Sue m a y have been o n e of the biggest fossils in the world, b u t she wasn't famous outside greater Rapid City . . . yet. T h e b r o t h e r s explained that Sue appeared to have a complete pelvis; nearly complete torso a n d tail; the radius, ulna, a n d h a n d bones of the small a r m s ; the first complete T. rex shoulder girdle ever found; possible stomach contents; a n d a spectacular skull that included a lower jaw a n d a set of "dangerously serrated, dagger-like teeth." They speculated that she might have weighed up to 6 tons. Sue showed evidence of having indeed been the prizefighter of antiquity, the Larsons told the Journal. H e r head h a d been injured. O n e leg appeared to have been b r o ken a n d then healed. Vertebrae in her tail were fused. These battered b o n e s a n d her large size indicated that she h a d "led a long and perilous life," Peter reported. He w o u l d later say that he was surprised that they h a d n ' t found a wheelchair b u r i e d beside her. Larson found these injuries fascinating. " I ' m interested in putting 'flesh' o n t o the skeleton," he says. "A fossil's pathology can give us a snapshot of its day-to-day life." He pictured Sue, her huge leg broken, resting in tall ferns, unable to m o v e very far. This led to the question H o w did she get e n o u g h food to survive until the leg healed? Larson pictured a caring m a t e or clan m e m b e r s bringing her food. T h e injuries to Sue's head suggested a n o t h e r series of snapshots. In his self-published b o o k The Rex Files, Larson visualized a battle between Sue (the Matriarch) a n d a n o t h e r female Tyrannosaurus rex for control of the clan or territory: T h e younger t h e r o p o d was not as strong or as large as her adversary, b u t she was m o r e agile. T h e Matriarch was well seasoned for c o m b a t . She had repeatedly defended her position in the g r o u p . . . . H e r neck pulsed with pain as she wheeled on her attacker. This injury, a bite received m o r e than ten years ago from a p r e t e n d e r to the t h r o n e , h a d never healed, b u t continued to ooze putrescence. T h e quickness of the challenger, nearly 50 years the junior of the two c o m b a t a n t s , saved her from the savage attack as she m o v e d effortlessly to the right. W i t h incredible speed, she caught her elder off balance a n d attacked her from behind. T h e

NEVER,

EVER

FOR

SALE

29

younger Tyrannosaur sunk her serrated, dagger-like teeth into the left side of her o p p o n e n t . Bone shattered b e h i n d the eye of the Matriarch. A t r e m e n d o u s scream filled the air. . . . T h e mighty ruler fell face d o w n in the stream as blood gushed from the fatal w o u n d a n d mixed with the m u d d y w a t e r s . . . . Slowly, ever so slowly, the stream covered this once m i g h t y body while organisms stripped the b o n e s of its flesh. Sand, leaves, a n d other bones accumulated a r o u n d a n d on top of the skeleton. Within weeks the burial was complete. Sue was always a female in Larson's snapshots a n d conversations. "We'd given the T. rex that n a m e a n d always referred to it as 'she' or 'her,'" he says. "But even at the site, people were asking m e , ' W h a t if she's a male?' I'd say that we could always point to that Johnny Cash song, 'A Boy N a m e d Sue.'" Actually, Larson had little reason to believe that this T. rex was a girl n a m e d Sue. At the time, m o s t scientists, with the notable exception of Ken Carpenter of the Denver M u s e u m of Natural History, h a d speculated that the smaller, "gracile" T. rex were female, while the larger, m o r e "robust" T. rex were male. And Sue was the largest, m o s t robust T. rex ever found. Further study of " h e r " b o n e s — a n d the b o n e s of the M u s e u m of the Rockies' specimen, which appeared gracile—might finally provide the answer to d e t e r m i n i n g gender. The bones might also answer a n o t h e r question that h a d long been a source of spirited debate in the scientific c o m m u n i t y : Was the T. rex primarily a predator or a scavenger? Years earlier, those in the scavenger c a m p had argued that the T. rex was a fat, sluggish, cold-blooded creature, too slow to catch its prey a n d t o o big to sneak up on it. By the t i m e the H o r n e r a n d Larson parties h a d excavated their dinosaurs in 1990, however, most agreed that the long-legged T. rex possessed the speed to r u n d o w n its fellow dinosaurs. But what a b o u t its almost comically short arms? Were these stubby appendages, only 3 feet long, strong e n o u g h to grab a meal on the run? Perhaps, said Carpenter a n d Matt Smith, a graduate s t u d e n t w h o also worked at the Denver M u s e u m . T h e January 1991 issue of Discover magazine reported that the pair had measured a scar on the left forelimb of the H o r n e r T. rex where the t e n d o n was attached to the biceps.

30

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

"Given the size of the b o n e a n d the angle of the t e n d o n attachment, and estimating the mass of the muscle, they calculated that each of the animal's a r m s could have withstood a weight of 1200 p o u n d s . " This was m o r e t h a n e n o u g h to bring d o w n prey. "I don't k n o w what a scavenger would be doing with a r m s like that," Smith told the magazine. Maybe m a k i n g love. "I t h i n k it's t o o s o o n to say that the a r m s were used to grasp prey," H o r n e r told Discover. "These a r m s are so short, T. rex would have had to p u t its chest d o w n on the prey to stabilize it. I'm n o t sure other dinosaurs would have been so slow and stupid as to let that happen." He would later write that earlier theories that the a r m s were used to hold or tickle the m a t e d u r i n g foreplay seemed m o r e plausible. Larson didn't k n o w exactly what the a r m s were used for, but that didn't matter in answering the predator or scavenger question, he asserted. O n e look at Sue's powerful jaws—Bakker c o m p a r e d t h e m to railroad spikes—persuaded Larson that she didn't need a r m s to hold her prey. "She was an o p p o r t u n i s t i c feeder," he hypothesized. If she c a m e u p o n an animal that was dead or injured, she wouldn't hesitate to eat it. But if she were h u n g r y a n d there was n o t h i n g to scavenge, she'd seek o u t a smaller dinosaur, r u n it d o w n , a n d grab it with her choppers, just as a wolf does. " H e r m o u t h was her arsenal. She h a d a skull full of bullets," Larson said. Study of her skull would, he h o p e d , shed additional light on this subject. Analysis of the olfactory lobe would, for example, d e t e r m i n e if the T. rex had the sense of smell necessary for identifying, discriminating, a n d tracking prey. But what difference does it m a k e if Sue h a d a caring m a t e or if "she" was male or female, p r e d a t o r or scavenger? W h a t can the study of fossils in general a n d d i n o s a u r s in particular tell us a b o u t o u r world? For his s u p e r b book, The Riddle of the Dinosaurs, Pulitzer P r i z e w i n n i n g science writer John Noble Wilford u n e a r t h e d a telling 300year-old q u o t a t i o n from the seventeenth-century English experimental scientist Robert Hooke. H o o k e was a t r u e post-Renaissance m a n . He constructed the first Gregorian telescope, discovered plant cells, was the first to use spiral springs to regulate watches, stated the currently accepted t h e o r y of elasticity (Hooke's Law), a n d even recognized some aspects of the law of gravitation before Sir Isaac N e w t o n . He also studied fossils a n d concluded:

NEVER,

EVER

FOR

SALE

31

I do h u m b l y conceive ('tho s o m e possibly m a y think there is too m u c h notice taken of such a trivial thing as a rotten shell, yet) that m e n do generally too m u c h slight a n d pass over w i t h o u t regard these regards of antiquity which N a t u r e have left as m o n u m e n t s a n d hieroglyphick [sic] characters of preceding transactions in the like d u r a t i o n or transactions of the b o d y of the Earth, which are infinitely m o r e evident a n d certain tokens than anything of antiquity that can be fetched o u t of coins or medals, or any other way yet k n o w n , since the best of those ways may be counterfeited or m a d e by art a n d design

[Fossil

shells] are not to be counterfeited by all the craft in the world, n o r can they be d o u b t e d to be, w h a t they appear, by anyone that will impartially examine the t r u e appearances of t h e m : A n d t h o ' it m u s t be granted that it is very difficult to read t h e m , a n d to raise a chronology o u t of t h e m , a n d to state the intervalls [sic] of the times, wherein such or such catastrophes a n d m u t a tions have h a p p e n e d ; yet 'tis not impossible. Three centuries after Hooke's observations, the Polish paleontologist Zofia Kielan-Jaworowska explained the rationale for studying dinosaurs in her 1969 book, Hunting for Dinosaurs: " T h e study of animals that lived on earth millions of years ago is not merely a study of their anatomy, b u t first and foremost a study of the course of evolution on earth a n d the laws that govern it." The first comprehensive study of the dinosaurs that lived on earth millions of years ago was presented by Sir Richard O w e n . In 1842, O w e n delivered his "Report on British Fossil Reptiles" to the eleventh meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science. In the report, he n o t only introduced the t e r m " d i n o s a u r " to the English language, he introduced the n o t i o n of the "terrible lizard" itself, distinguishing it from all other reptiles past a n d present. Owen's analysis was triggered by two presentations in the 1820s about new fossil finds. In 1824, William Buckland, an English minister/geologist to w h o m "rock of ages" apparently had a d o u b l e m e a n i n g , published a paper after studying the bones of a creature christened Megalosaurus, or "great lizard." (By this t i m e scientists had begun to use

32

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Greek or Latin words to describe their finds.) Buckland's c o n t e m p o raries speculated that this carnivore found in a q u a r r y at Stonesfield s o m e ten years earlier was 40 feet long and 8 feet tall. A m o n g those in attendance w h e n Buckland presented his paper on Megalosaurus to the Geological Society was Dr. Gideon Algernon Mantell, an English surgeon with a love for collecting fossils. Within m o n t h s , Mantell would write his o w n paper on the discovery of a new herbivorous reptile. In later years, the d o c t o r gave credit for the find to his wife, w h o shared his paleontological passion. Mary A n n Mantell, the story goes, accompanied her h u s b a n d on a house call to Sussex. As the d o c t o r attended to his patient, M r s . Mantell went for a walk, w h e r e u p o n she found some fossil teeth. While there seems to be s o m e question a b o u t the specific facts of this story, there is little d o u b t that in 1820 or 1821 Mantell or his wife had found the teeth of what would prove to be a dinosaur. H o w is a new extinct reptile identified? In this case, through dental records. But it was not an easy job. Mantell took his fossils to several people before receiving satisfaction. M e m b e r s of the Geological Society were less t h a n excited; they speculated that the teeth belonged to a large fish or m a m m a l . Next, the great French paleontologist, Georges Cuvier, father of the theory of extinction, dismissed t h e m as rhinoceros incisors. U n d a u n t e d , Mantell went to the H u n t e r i a n M u s e u m at the Royal College of Surgeons in London. After failing to find any similar reptilian teeth in the museum's collection, Mantell h a p p e n e d to meet a y o u n g assistant curator w h o was studying iguanas. Samuel Stuchbury observed that Mantell's fossil teeth closely resembled the teeth of a living iguana found in Central America—only they were considerably larger. W h e n Stuchbury showed h i m an iguana skeleton, Mantell agreed. T h e d o c t o r finally h a d an answer. T h e teeth were neither fish n o r fowl n o r rhinoceros, b u t rather belonged to a long-gone, giant plant eater. He n a m e d this reptile Iguanodon ("iguana t o o t h " ) . Based on the fact that the living iguanas of the day reached 5 feet in length, Mantell estimated that the Iguanodon m i g h t have been 200 feet long. He soon revised the length to 60 feet, which was still three times too great. By the time O w e n presented his famous paper 17 years later, Mantell's

herbivorous

Iguanodon

and

Buckland's

carnivorous

NEVER,

EVER

FOR

SALE

33

Megalosaurus had company. Several m o r e n a m e s had been a d d e d to the pantheon Cetiosaurus,

of terrible Cladeidon,

Thecodontosaurus,

lizards.

The

latest

Macrodontophion,

a n d Hylaeosaurus

(an

seven

nondwarfs were

Palaeosaurus,

Plateosaurus,

a r m o r e d d i n o s a u r also first

described by Mantell). These lizards shared so m a n y traits that O w e n p r o p o s e d "establishing a distinct tribe or s u b o r d e r of Saurian Reptiles . . . Dinosauria." T h e paleontologist noted several ways in which these extinct animals had differed from the other saurians. They lived on land rather t h a n in the water. Unlike other reptiles, they all h a d five vertebrae fused to the pelvic girdle. And they were bigger a n d m o r e massive, their bodies s o m e w h a t reminiscent of the elephant a n d its fellow pachydermal m a m m a l s . Encouraged by Britain's Prince Albert, O w e n eventually b r o u g h t this vision of the dinosaur a n d its prehistoric s u r r o u n d i n g s to life for the masses. W h e n the Crystal Palace moved to Sydenham in South L o n d o n in 1853, the prince commissioned Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins, a painter/sculptor, to, in his words, " s u m m o n from the abyss of time a n d from the depths of the earth those vast forms and gigantic beasts which the Almighty Creator designed with fitness to inhabit a n d precede us in possession of this part of earth called Great Britain." With technical assistance from Owen, Hawkins created life-size versions of Megalosaurus, Iguanodon, and their fellow inhabitants of ancient Great Britain. Later that year, Owen a n d 20 other leading natural scientists gathered at the Crystal Palace for a New Year's Eve party. T h e t h e m e was dinosaurs, and the d i n n e r itself was held inside a huge, life-size m o d e l of an Iguanodon—perhaps the first t h e m e restaurant. T h e guests e n t h u siastically sang a playful h o m a g e to the d i n o s a u r written by Professor Edward Forbes of the M u s e u m of Practical Geology: A t h o u s a n d ages u n d e r g r o u n d His skeleton h a d lain, But n o w his body's big a n d r o u n d , And he's himself again! His bones, like Adam's w r a p p e d in clay, His ribs of iron stout,

34

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

W h e r e is the b r u t e alive today T h a t dares to t u r n h i m out? Beneath his hide he's got inside T h e souls of living m e n ; W h o dare o u r saurian n o w deride W i t h life in h i m again? (Chorus) T h e jolly old beast Is not deceased. There's life in h i m again. Forbes instructed the singers to conclude the c h o r u s with a "roar." O w e n was m u c h better at describing dinosaurs than at designing t h e m . Because he was working with incomplete specimens, the m a n rightfully d e e m e d the "father of paleontology" wrongfully conceived his terrible lizards as m o r e like m a m m a l s t h a n reptiles. As a result Hawkins's beasts were not entirely anatomically correct. His Iguanodon, for example, had a h o r n on its snout. In reality, that h o r n was a dagger-like spike, a n d it should have been located on the h a n d . Some years later, the American

paleontologist

Othniel

C.

Marsh

poked

fun

at

the

O w e n / H a w k i n s models. "There is n o t h i n g like u n t o t h e m in the heavens, or on earth, or in the waters u n d e r the earth," he said. " T h e dinosaurs seem to have suffered m u c h from their enemies a n d their friends." T h e Almighty Creator's gigantic beasts h a d possessed m o r e than Great Britain. Accordingly, in 1868 the commissioners of New York's Central Park invited Hawkins to create life-size m o d e l s of the creatures that h a d inhabited ancient N o r t h America. T h e commissioners planned a Paleozoic M u s e u m for the park as well. Unfortunately, when Boss Tweed grabbed control of New York City, the project was killed. All w o r k d o n e to date was b u r i e d b e n e a t h the park, to be u n e a r t h e d perh a p s by future fossil h u n t e r s . Hawkins's star attraction was to have been the Hadrosaurus foulkei ("Foulke's big reptile"), a Cretaceous-period duck-billed dinosaur. William Foulke, a m e m b e r of the Philadelphia-based Academy of

NEVER,

EVER

FOR

SALE

35

Natural Sciences, a n d Joseph Leidy, an anatomist a n d the academy's director, had u n e a r t h e d Hadrosaurus in 1858 on a farm in Haddonfield, New Jersey. Earlier that year, Leidy h a d been the first in America to identify fossils as dinosaurian. After e x a m i n i n g teeth found by a U.S. A r m y m a p p i n g expedition in the badlands of what is n o w M o n t a n a , Leidy declared t h e m to belong to two different dinosaurs. O n e was a duckbilled herbivore; he n a m e d it Trachodon ("rough t o o t h " ) . T h e other was a carnivore; he n a m e d it Deinodon horridus ("most horrible of the terror teeth"). Such efforts led m a n y to regard Leidy as the "father of vertebrate paleontology in N o r t h America." (Science seems to have fathered an entire genus or species: "father o f . . . . " ) . W h e n fully excavated, the Haddonfield bones t u r n e d o u t to be the best dinosaur skeleton found up to that point in history. T h e specimen was 30 feet long. Its fore a n d h i n d limbs were intact, as was its pelvis. It included 28 vertebrae, 9 teeth, a n d fragments of the jaw. T h e teeth of "Foulke's big reptile" were similar to those of Mantell's Iguanodon, which O w e n had portrayed as rhinoceros-like. Blessed with a m o r e complete skeleton t h a n O w e n had to work with, Leidy visualized a somewhat different animal. He told the Academy of Natural Sciences that the thigh b o n e was so m u c h longer t h a n the h u m e r u s b o n e of the u p p e r a r m that if they had n o t been found together, he would have t h o u g h t they came from different dinosaurs. W h a t did he m a k e of this? " T h e great d i s p r o p o r t i o n of size between the fore a n d back parts . . . leads me to suspect that this great extinct herbivorous lizard may have been in the habit of browsing, sustaining itself kangaroo-like in an erect position on its back extremities a n d tail." Evidence of a bipedal dinosaur seemed to answer a question that had puzzled lay people and scientists alike for almost 60 years: W h o left the n u m e r o u s giant, three-toed tracks found t h r o u g h o u t the Connecticut Valley? The footprints seemed too big to have c o m e from birds, b u t until the discovery of Hadrosaurus foulkei there was no other candidate. Creationism created s o m e of the confusion. Witness the case of y o u n g Pliny Moody. While plowing his father's farmland near South Hadley, Massachusetts, in 1802, M o o d y uncovered a slab of sandstone that bore a three-toed footprint similar to that of a turkey or raven, b u t m u c h bigger. T h e good religious people of the area concluded that the

36

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

p r i n t belonged to the raven that N o a h h a d sent forth from the ark to find terra firma. Following in Moody's footsteps was Edward Hitchcock, a ninet e e n t h - c e n t u r y Congregationalist minister w h o taught chemistry a n d natural history at Amherst College a n d eventually served as that institution's president. Hitchcock b e c a m e the leading expert on fossil footprints of the eastern United States, collecting t h e m , studying them, a n d classifying t h e m with descriptive Latin names. Many of these tracks were found in the s a n d s t o n e q u a r r i e d to build the b r o w n s t o n e t o w n houses of early n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y New York. N o n e were accompanied by skeletons. As a result, Hitchcock could only speculate about the creatures that h a d left t h e m . In 1848, after 13 years of study, Hitchcock s u m m a r i z e d his findings in a paper for the American Academy of Arts a n d Sciences, "An Attempt to Discriminate a n d Describe the Animals that M a d e the Fossil Footprints of the United States." T h e Connecticut Valley, he wrote, had long ago been h o m e to huge three-toed birds that were several times larger t h a n ostriches. While t u r n - o f - t h e - n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y creationists

followed the

C o n n e c t i c u t Valley's three-toed fossil tracks back to Noah's ark, m i d c e n t u r y evolutionists followed those same tracks to Darwin's Beagle after Leidy's postulation of a bipedal dinosaur. Leading the march was T h o m a s H e n r y Huxley, a brilliant scientist w h o h a d eschewed a career in medicine for o n e in paleontology a n d natural history. D u b b e d Darwin's "bulldog," Huxley took to the Hadrosaurus like a dog takes to a b o n e . " T h e i m p o r t a n t t r u t h which these tracks reveal is that, at the c o m m e n c e m e n t of the Mesozoic epoch [from which the s a n d s t o n e d a t e d ] , bipedal animals existed which had the feet of birds, a n d walked in the same erect or semierect fashion," he argued. W h y was this t r u t h so i m p o r t a n t to the evolutionists? The survival of Darwin's theory, advanced in his 1859 l a n d m a r k , On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection,

or the Preservation

of Favored

Races in the Struggle for Life, was in no small measure d e p e n d e n t on the ability to find missing links. For example, from what animal had the bird evolved? D a r w i n had hypothesized that reptiles were the link. T h e discovery that dinosaurs h a d left the bird-like tracks in America seemed to s u p p o r t this hypothesis.

NEVER,

EVER

FOR

SALE

37

Another fossil added even m o r e fuel to the evolutionists' fire. In late 1860 or early 1861, stonecutters working in the limestone beds of Bavaria found the remains of a strange creature; it looked like a reptile, but it had a feather. If it was a bird, it was the earliest o n e on record. Mid-nineteenth-century scientists weren't able to accurately date fossils, but they could determine the order in which they had appeared on earth based on the strata in which they were found. No bird had ever been discovered in limestone beds (which we n o w know formed about 150 to 160 million years earlier, during the Jurassic period). As a result, some scientists thought the specimen a hoax. But by August 1861, H e r m a n n von Meyer, an eminent paleontologist from Frankfurt, had confirmed that the feather was genuine, t h o u g h "not necessarily derived from a bird." O n e m o n t h later von Meyer viewed a headless skeleton found along with the impression of feathers in the same limestone. " T h e fossil, indeed, looked like o n e of Darwin's missing links," writes Wilford. T h e skeleton had a long b o n y tail, three clawed fingers, a n d lizard-like ribs a n d vertebrae. Von Meyer gave the specimen a neutral n a m e — n e i t h e r bird n o r reptile: Archaeopteryx lithographica ("ancient feather from the lithographic limestone"). W h e t h e r or not the Archaeopteryx linked birds to reptiles (most scientists today agree that it does), it did link science to c o m m e r c e . T h e fossil's owner, Karl Haberlein, quickly a n n o u n c e d that it was for sale. His asking price? T h e substantial s u m of 700 p o u n d s . Peter Larson was not about to part with his find of a lifetime. " T h e Black Hills Institute's Tyrannosaurus rex will always be available for study a n d research since it is n o t for sale," Larson a n n o u n c e d at the Fifty-first Annual Meeting of the Society of Vertebrate Paleontologists (SVP) in San Diego, California, in October of 1991. His speech a n d slide show, the first public presentation on Sue since her discovery, lasted 12 m i n utes—the m a x i m u m time the SVP granted presenters at that year's meeting. With only 12 m i n u t e s to s u m m a r i z e the first 12 m o n t h s of research on only the twelfth (and best) T. rex ever found, Larson limited himself to only his most "startling discoveries": that this was the first T. rex skeleton with a nearly complete tail; that duck-billed d i n o s a u r bones found with Sue showed etching a n d were coated with ironstone, suggesting that "this material is actual stomach contents"; that the skele-

38

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

ton showed evidence of a n u m b e r of healed injuries; that the remains of three other smaller T. rex were found with Sue; a n d that Sue and the T. rex found by Kathy Wankel in M o n t a n a possessed very different b o d y types. Larson said he was confident that over the next 18 m o n t h s , "the completeness of Sue a n d the presence of other Tyrannosaur material will yield m u c h new information on this largest of all land carnivores." Larson then did something somewhat extraordinary: he invited any paleontologists interested in studying Sue to come to Hill City. Not all scientists and scientific institutions are so generous. Understandably, those expending a great deal of time, effort, ingenuity, and, m o n e y to find or secure a special specimen feel the need to get the best return on their investment. Often that return is realized t h r o u g h the publication of the first definitive groundbreaking scientific paper or papers on some or all aspects of the fossil. Thus, until the fossil has been studied and the paper written, these scientists or institutions will often deny meaningful access to outsiders. In this sense, science is similar to industry, which also jealously guards its new products until they are ready for the public. Peter Larson does not believe in trade secrets. "We've always had a policy of being open," he says, explaining his decision to invite those w h o might be considered his rivals to c o m e a n d study Sue and jointly publish a m o n o g r a p h to be called " T h e World of Tyrannosaurus rex" "Besides, there was m o r e there to study t h a n I could do in a lifetime." Within a few m o n t h s , 34 scientists from a r o u n d the world would sign on. W h e n Larson issued his invitation, several paleontologists had already traveled to Hill City. Visits by Currie of the Royal Tyrrell M u s e u m of Paleontology a n d Carpenter of the Denver M u s e u m of Natural History h a d quickly yielded dividends. Each had identified additional bones of the three smaller T. rex found with Sue. Another picture was forming in Larson's m i n d . "Does the presence of four Tyrannosaurs of such varied sizes in the same deposit m e a n that we found M o m , Dad, Junior, a n d Baby?" he asked at the SVP convention. If all Larson h a d to offer was an exhibition of such impressionistic snapshots, he might rightfully be accused of practicing soft science. But for every p h o t o in his m i n d ' s eye, there is a scientific paper in his n a m e . Not only did he visualize Sue as a female, for example, he cowrote, with G e r m a n scientist Eberhard Frey, an article for the Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology with the decidedly unsexy title "Sexual D i m o r p h i s m in the

NEVER,

EVER

FOR

SALE

39

A b u n d a n t Upper Cretaceous T h e r o p o d Tyrannosaurus rex." Translation: Let's look at the skeletons of a single species of d i n o s a u r a n d see if they possess differences that are the result of being male or female. H o w did Larson the h a r d scientist go a b o u t this research? He read everything remotely related to the subject that he could get his h a n d s on. He journeyed across N o r t h America to see all available T. rex specimens. And he traveled to Karlsruhe, Germany, to consult with Frey, an expert on dinosaurs and on a reptile often used as a m o d e l for d i n o s a u r behavior, the crocodile. The living crocodile, like the extinct t h e r o p o d s , can be divided into two b o d y types: heavy/robust a n d light/gracile. T h e heavy/robust crocodiles are male. These reptiles don't have a visible sex organ; it retracts into the b o d y w h e n n o t in use. T h e males are distinguishable from females, not only because they are larger b u t because they have an extra chevron (chevrons are the b o n y spines attached to the base of the caudal, or tail, vertebrae). Just as the robust (male) crocodile possessed an extra chevron, so, too, did the gracile t h e r o p o d . Therefore, Larson concluded: "In the theropod, the gracile b o d y was male, the m o r e robust, female. In all likelihood, the female was larger t h a n the male." In addition to studying crocodiles, Larson h a d also studied birds, t h o u g h t to be the t h e r o p o d s ' closest living relative. It appears that in all species of predatory birds, the female is larger t h a n the male. These species appear to have s o m e t h i n g else in c o m m o n : m o n o g a m y . T h e paleontologist then r e t u r n e d to his snapshot. "By d r a w i n g a parallel with the predatory bird, I m o s t unexpectedly came to believe that T. rex was probably m o n o g a m o u s a n d m a i n t a i n e d family groups." He added that this possibility was s u p p o r t e d by additional data: the fragmentary remains of a gracile male adult, a juvenile, a n d an infant with the robust female—Sue. M o m , Dad, Junior, a n d Baby. Dad, Junior, and Baby may have fallen victim to the same T. rex that killed Sue, Larson speculated. Perhaps Sue's clan had invaded the territory of another clan a n d a giant battle had ensued. Bakker, for one, is impressed. "Pete is a wonderful scientist," he says. "He teased Sue's personality out of those bones." Larson h o p e d to tease even m o r e from Sue's skull. He was particularly interested in seeing where the nerves that ran t h r o u g h her brain

40

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

a n d skull exited; the trail to the optic nerve might, for example, reveal clues to her visual acuity. Study of the inner ear and olfactory lobe and olfactory turbanals (tiny coils of b o n e in the nose) would offer m o r e information a b o u t her sensory capabilities. T h e size of her braincase would reveal h o w big her brain may have been. Examination of the respiratory turbanals a n d holes in Sue's skull might also solve a question that h a d long perplexed scientists: Were dinosaurs cold-blooded or warm-blooded? In B a r n u m Brown's day it would have been impossible to get this information w i t h o u t breaking apart the individual skull bones. Such bones are very h a r d to reassemble. "Breaking t h e m apart is not a risk you want to take with the few T. rex skulls in existence," says Horner. Fortunately, thanks to m o d e r n technology, neither H o r n e r n o r Larson had to take that risk. A simple CAT (computerized axial t o m o g raphy) scan can p h o t o g r a p h microscopically thin sections of b o n e a n d t h e n reassemble the images in a three-dimensional view without d a m aging the skull. Well, maybe not simple. A 5-foot long skull won't fit in a conventional hospital CAT scanner. Large scanners are almost as rare as T. rex, b u t considerably easier to find. H o r n e r arranged for his T. rex skull to be scanned at the General Electric laboratories in Cincinnati, O h i o . There, GE x-rayed large p r o d ucts for defects. Larson shot for the m o o n . Bakker a n d Andrew Leitch, a d i n o s a u r specialist from Toronto, spent m o n t h s negotiating with the National Aeronautics a n d Space A d m i n i s t r a t i o n for access to the same kind of scanner used by NASA to look for flaws in e q u i p m e n t like the space shuttle engines. W h e n these negotiations began, Sue's nose still lay u n d e r her m a s sive pelvis in the preparation area at the institute. Chief preparator Wentz had b e g u n the process of restoring a n d preserving Sue's bones, b u t he was saving the biggest for last. He realized that safely extricating the skull would be like playing a high-stakes g a m e of pickup sticks. There is no p r e p school for this kind of work. Wentz, a thin, balding m a n n o w in his mid-forties, learned his craft on the job. Before entering the fossil field, he worked in his family's cab business in southern Wisconsin. He has also worked in a flower s h o p and sold advertising. In 1984, a friend told Wentz a b o u t a notice posted at the University of Wisconsin inviting people to dig dinosaurs. A few weeks later Wentz

NEVER,

EVER

FOR

SALE

41

found himself beside Peter Larson at the Ruth M a s o n Quarry. He e n d e d up staying seven weeks. "I liked w o r k i n g o u t d o o r s , liked the fact that you never k n o w what you're going to find next," he explains. "And I seemed to have a knack for it." T h e duck-bill bones Wentz a n d his fellow volunteers found were eventually reconstructed a n d displayed at the university in Madison. In 1987, Wentz accepted Larson's offer to work full t i m e at the institute and moved to Hill City. Soon he was p r e p a r i n g fossils in the lab as well as h u n t i n g t h e m at the quarry. "Working in the field is great training for being a preparator," he says. "A b o n e is m o s t fragile w h e n you first expose it, so if you can get it o u t of the g r o u n d safely, you can p r o b ably do the work in the lab." If you have the t e m p e r a m e n t . Here's h o w Wentz prepared Sue for her debut: He began by cutting o p e n a n d removing the plaster field jackets from her b o n e s , just as a d o c t o r m i g h t remove a cast from a patient's limb. T h e n he peeled off the a l u m i n u m foil that h a d protected the b o n e from the plaster. N o w it was t i m e to remove the rock from the b o n e . He started with an air scribe—a m i n i j a c k h a m m e r with a p o i n t the size of a p e n — t h e n moved to h a n d tools like dental probes, paintbrushes, a n d toothbrushes. Finally, he pulled out a M i c r o - a i r b r a d e — a miniature sandblaster—which blasted the r e m a i n i n g rock off the b o n e with baking soda instead of sand. If the bones were cracked, Wentz used Superglue to repair t h e m . He filled any gaps in the b o n e with a b r o w n , clay-like epoxy p u t t y that w o u l d soon h a r d e n . Wentz acknowledges that m a n y people might find cleaning a fossil as tedious as cleaning a house. To h i m , however, the w o n d e r s never cease. " N o o n e looks closer at a fossil t h a n the p r e p a r a t o r does," he says. "I see it millimeter by millimeter—the valleys, the ridges. Each b o n e is like a whole other world." Each b o n e is like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle, too. All the b o n e fragments have to be identified a n d pieced (glued) together. Larson, w h o is particularly skilled at looking at a tiny shard a n d k n o w i n g exactly where it belongs, sings Wentz's praise: "Terry is o n e of the finest preparators in the world today." As work on Sue progressed, the Larsons a n d institute p a r t n e r Bob Farrar worked on plans for the new m u s e u m . On M a r c h 13, 1992, they a n n o u n c e d the creation of a nonprofit c o r p o r a t i o n to build what they

42

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

would call the Black Hills M u s e u m of Natural History. A fund-raising c a m p a i g n had already begun. T h e Western Dakota G e m a n d Mineral Society h a d d o n a t e d $1000, while students at Badger Clark Elementary School c o n t r i b u t e d $624.37. Sue, of course, would be the centerpiece of the p r o p o s e d 200,000square-foot space. T h e Larsons estimated that it would take another 18 m o n t h s to finish cleaning her bones a n d a n o t h e r year after that to make casts a n d assemble a life-size replica of her skeleton. In the m e a n t i m e , her skull would be on display once it r e t u r n e d from its CAT scan. M o r e t h a n 2000 visitors to the institute had already seen s o m e of Sue's b o n e s in Rex Hall, a small building b e h i n d the institute used for preparation a n d storage. "We didn't have a formal exhibit, but whenever tourists c a m e t h r o u g h , I'd pull 'em off the display floor or out of the gift s h o p a n d take ' e m to see Sue," says Larson. He admits that he was happy for any excuse to visit his prize find. "Even w h e n I wasn't working on her, I'd go talk to her, fondle her bones. It was my daily ritual." T h e institute's a n n o u n c e m e n t of its m u s e u m plans energized Hill City. Although the t o w n lay little m o r e t h a n a stone's t h r o w from M o u n t R u s h m o r e , it had little to offer tourists save an old gold m i n e and a short ride on an antiquated passenger train. Its e c o n o m y had been stagnant for years. Average per-capita i n c o m e in 1990 had been $9000, a full $3000 below the national poverty level. A m u s e u m featuring the world's greatest Tyrannosaurus rex would not only p u t the place on the m a p , it w o u l d p u t m o n e y in people's pockets. It soon appeared that Sue might be keeping c o m p a n y with a fellow n a m e d Stan in the new m u s e u m . In April the institute a n n o u n c e d the discovery of a n o t h e r T. rex. This specimen, a b o u t 60 percent complete, appeared to be gracile a n d was p r e s u m e d to be a male. Larson n a m e d h i m after Stan Sacrison, the a m a t e u r paleontologist w h o found h i m on a private ranch in the b a d l a n d s of Buffalo, South Dakota, a b o u t 90 miles west of Faith. T h e institute's excavation team spent two weeks c a m p e d out at the site. Unfortunately, rain a n d snow d a m p e n e d the g r o u n d , making removal of the b o n e s difficult. While waiting for the weather to change, Larson a n d Wentz r e t u r n e d to Hill City a n d the preparation of Sue. NASA had finally agreed to c o n d u c t the CAT scan of the skull. In mid-May, Larson a n d Wentz w o u l d be taking it to the Marshall Space

NEVER,

EVER

FOR

SALE

43

Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama. T h e y still had to finish p r e p a r i n g the skull and d e t e r m i n e h o w best to pack it for the road trip south. Three days after the institute m a d e public the discovery of Stan, the April 29 Rapid City Journal broke a story that was, literally, news to Peter Larson. "Sioux Say 'Sue' Theirs," proclaimed a large, bold headline in the Journal. "The Cheyenne River Sioux say the world's largest Tyrannosaurus rex was illegally taken from land on their reservation in 1990," began reporter Bill Harlan's story. According to the article, the tribe asserted that Sue had been discovered within the boundaries of the reservation and that federal law prohibited taking such fossils without the tribe's permission. The Sioux had not filed a lawsuit, b u t m o n t h s earlier they had passed a resolution calling for an investigation. "In Sioux Falls, U.S. Attorney Kevin Schieffer confirmed he had been investigating the case for months," the paper noted. T h e story took everyone at the institute by surprise. Their only inkling that the tribe claimed ownership of Sue h a d c o m e shortly after the find. At that time Maurice Williams had sent t h e m a copy of the resolution with a note in which he wrote, " W h a t an exercise in B.S., vindictiveness, jealousy, hatred, etc. You do what you think, b u t I w o u l d find it hard to even recognize their childish efforts." Larson chose to ignore the resolution. Convinced that he had legally purchased the " t h e r o p o d skeleton Sue" from Williams, Larson had also chosen to ignore a letter that the rancher had sent h i m on N o v e m b e r 10, 1990, a b o u t three m o n t h s after the discovery: "I didn't sell the fossil to you. I only allowed you to remove it and clean it a n d prepare it for sale." T h e institute had heard nothing from Williams or the tribe a b o u t Sue over the last 18 m o n t h s . Now, the Journal reported, Gregg Bourland, the c h a i r m a n of the tribe, said that the Sioux had agreed to a p a r t n e r s h i p with Williams to determine the future of the dinosaur. T h a t future might include m a k i n g a cast of the T. rex for a m u s e u m on the reservation, the sale of a limited n u m b e r of replicas of the skeleton, a n d d o n a t i o n of the b o n e s to a college, said Bourland. Larson, at the Stan site, was unavailable for c o m m e n t , b u t the institute's attorney, Patrick Duffy, told the Journal that Williams's sale of Sue to the institute was legal. "I'm convinced that the tribe has no claim to the fossil at all," he said.

TYRANNOSAURUS

44

SUE

Over the next two weeks, Larson was m o r e interested in getting Stan out of the g r o u n d a n d Sue's skull into a crate t h a n he was in the tribe's claim, which he considered meritless. Wentz h a d extricated the skull from the pelvis by t u n n e l i n g between the hips a n d the lower jaw b o n e . O n c e the other bones a r o u n d the skull were removed, Larson a n d Wentz p l a n n e d to get the skull into a w o o d e n shipping crate that they had designed. T h e crate was 6 feet long by 3 feet wide by 3 feet high; each of its six sides could be removed individually, allowing for better viewing or p h o tography of the skull from various angles. T h e pair would cover each of these six sides with a removable layer of protective foam. T h e skull still sat on its original, t h o u g h cut d o w n , pallet. Larson and Wentz planned first to build four sides a n d the top of the crate a r o u n d the skull—fastened to this pallet. T h e y would then w r a p the skull itself in industrialstrength plastic, t u r n the whole thing over, remove the pallet, and make a new b o t t o m for the crate. NASA had told t h e m that the skull should be as clean as possible; any plaster or foil would c o m p r o m i s e the CAT scan. As the skull's May 17 d e p a r t u r e date neared, m o r e details of the tribe's claim surfaced, as did pretenders to Sue's crown. T h e local Timber Lake Topic reported that only three days after the Larsons had first a n n o u n c e d the discovery of Sue in September of 1990, the tribe had passed resolution E-335-90CR d e m a n d i n g return of the skeleton a n d requesting assistance from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. T h e tribe still asserted ownership, b u t Williams seemed to be distancing himself from the council. He told the Topic that there was no b i n d i n g contract or sale. "Williams said he didn't k n o w what the $5000 check was for b u t that 'maybe it m i g h t have been for mitigation,'" the paper reported. It was unclear what Williams m e a n t by "mitigation," but it was clear that he stood to benefit if the sale was invalid a n d the dinosaur was his. G o r d o n Walker, a private collector from British Columbia, told the Topic that he h a d offered Williams $1 million for the T. rex if he could get her back. He urged Larson to "come to his senses" and do right by Williams. W h o could declare the sale invalid a n d d e t e r m i n e ownership? Schieffer said he was c o n t e m p l a t i n g filing a complaint in federal court against the institute a n d that if he did, he would handle the case per-

NEVER,

EVER

FOR

SALE

45

sonally. Wait, said M a r k Van N o r m a n , an attorney for the tribe: A civil action in tribal court might be the best way of resolving the matter. On May 12, five days after the Topic article appeared a n d five days before the scheduled d e p a r t u r e to Huntsville, Larson received a call from his longtime friend Dr. Clayton Ray, a curator of vertebrate paleontology at the Smithsonian M u s e u m of Natural History in Washington, D.C. Ray reported that s o m e o n e identifying himself as an FBI agent had called the m u s e u m and asked h o w best to pack a n d move T. rex bones. Larson suspected that the caller had been Walker, trying to stir up trouble. Larson had recently angered the Canadian collector when he refused to verify that a "dinosaur egg" with an " e m b r y o " in it that Walker was attempting to sell was genuine. "It wasn't a dinosaur egg. And the 'embryo' was a quartz formation," Larson says. Larson told Duffy a b o u t the call. Duffy immediately p h o n e d Schieffer. "We had the only T. rex around," Duffy later explained. "So I asked h i m if the g o v e r n m e n t was p l a n n i n g to seize Sue. He told me no." Schieffer says he didn't say no or yes. "I didn't divulge anything. I can't imagine any prosecutor confirming or denying anything where you are u n d e r investigation. It would be extraordinarily stupid to talk a b o u t it." Who's telling the truth? Perhaps each m a n is. U p o n receiving such a p h o n e call, few U.S. attorneys would confirm that a seizure was i m m i nent; to do so would give the subject of an investigation t i m e to alter, destroy, or hide evidence. Says o n e former assistant U.S. attorney: "You generally say you can't c o m m e n t on it. At the same time it's n o t u n u s u al to, without lying, try a n d give the impression that n o t h i n g is being planned." On May 13, Larson a n d Wentz c o n t i n u e d readying Sue's skull. T h e y were visited by National Park Service Ranger Stanley Robins, with w h o m Larson had served on the South Dakota State Historical Society Task Force on Paleontology. Robins frequently came by the institute to check on the preparation of the fossil. On this day he observed the progress they were m a k i n g with the skull, b o u g h t s o m e Sue m e m o r a bilia at the gift shop, a n d b a d e good-bye. At the time, Larson a n d Wentz didn't give the visit a second t h o u g h t . Larson went to bed that evening in a good m o o d . In 96 h o u r s Sue would be on her way to Huntsville, where the technology of the 1990s

46

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

w o u l d unlock mysteries 67 million years old. While there, Larson would talk to NASA a b o u t s o m e t h i n g else: "I wanted to volunteer to go to Mars a n d collect fossils," he says. He slept well that night. As usual he had d i n o s a u r dreams. It was the last good night's sleep he would get for a long time.

3

YOU

BETTER

OUT

HERE,

GET PETE

"One million dollars." Seated toward the back of the room, Stanford "Stan" Adelstein, a wealthy businessman from Rapid City, South Dakota, started to raise his auction paddle. He had journeyed east on behalf of the Black Hills Institute with $1.2 million in his war chest, while Peter Larson waited back in Hill City with butterflies in his stomach. "I thought just because of all the hype and the fact that she was a media star that she might bring as much as half a million or a million dollars," Larson would later say. "People were making these wild predictions, but they didn't have a clue of what the market was like. Because if you looked at the market, there was no way to predict this price. What had happened, of course, was the notoriety. The persona of Sue had created the story. I mean she was the most famous fossil in the world." W h e n Karl Haberlein p u t his Archaeopteryx up for sale in 1862, Sir Richard Owen was superintendent of the British M u s e u m . O w e n sent a representative to Bavaria with an offer: 500 p o u n d s . Haberlein said no; the 700-pound price, like the specimen, was set in stone. O w e n met with his trustees and persuaded t h e m to give h i m an additional 200 p o u n d s , and soon the British M u s e u m had added a n o t h e r feather to its cap.

47

48

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

No d o u b t O w e n , a s u p e r b anatomist, would have examined the specimen from head to toe—if part of the head h a d n ' t been missing. As it was, he did c o n d u c t a t h o r o u g h analysis of the fossil. Acknowledging that the Archaeopteryx did possess s o m e reptilian features, O w e n pointed to the feathers as "unequivocally" proving that the creature was a bird. There was no evidence that this was o n e of Darwin's missing links, he reported to the Royal Society in N o v e m b e r of 1862. O n l y a handful of Archaeopteryx have been discovered since Owen's report. O n e of the most significant of these was found in a m u s e u m , rather t h a n in the field. In 1970, John O s t r o m , a paleontologist at Yale University, " u n e a r t h e d " the specimen at the Teyler M u s e u m in Haarlem, the Netherlands. Apparently on finding it in 1855, von Meyer had misidentified it as a pterodactyl. O s t r o m found a lot of similarities between Archaeopteryx and dinosaurs that led h i m to conclude that the Archaeopteryx had evolved directly from t h e r o p o d s . Not everyone in the scientific c o m m u n i t y agreed. Birds are w a r m - b l o o d e d , while dinosaurs were cold-blooded, they argued. O s t r o m admitted that he was uncertain whether dinosaurs were e n d o t h e r m i c like birds a n d h u m a n s . But that didn't matter, he said. T h e anatomical similarities between Archaeopteryx a n d smaller carnivores, particularly coelurosaurian dinosaurs, d e m o n s t r a t e d the link. Bakker, w h o studied u n d e r O s t r o m at Yale, was not the least bit uncertain: dinosaurs, at least the carnivores, were w a r m - b l o o d e d , he argued in 1975. A m o n g his a r g u m e n t s : the ratio of d i n o s a u r predators to prey is almost identical to the m o d e r n ratio of w a r m - b l o o d e d predators to p r e y — a b o u t o n e p r e d a t o r for every 10 prey. Cold-blooded predators like crocodiles, he noted, require far less food a n d live in densities where the ratio is the same in relation to prey. Bakker is p e r h a p s the best k n o w n paleontologist in the world. His long, bushy beard certainly makes h i m the most recognizable. His way with w o r d s — h e has written novels as well as treatises—makes h i m the m o s t quotable. And his fearlessness in forwarding new theories (along with his willingness to criticize his fellow PhDs) often makes h i m the most controversial. In addition to forwarding new theories on w a r m bloodedness, he was the first to p u t feathers on dinosaurs, doing so as early as 1967 in his u n d e r g r a d u a t e thesis at Yale. He was also the first to

YOU

BETTER

GET

OUT

HERE,

PETE

49

propose a wholly new classification system that separates dinosaurs from other reptiles a n d p u t s t h e m in a new class with birds. Many scientists disputed Bakker's ideas a b o u t w a r m - b l o o d e d n e s s , trying to poke holes in the rationale for his p r e d a t o r - t o - p r e y conclusions. U n d a u n t e d , he pointed to the dinosaur's skull as further evidence. Holes located near the brain's blood supply m a y have worked as radiators to cool the hot blood, he argued. Because t h e r o p o d s a n d birds shared m a n y characteristics, Larson, too, suspected that the T. rex was w a r m - b l o o d e d . "Sue m a y be m o r e closely related to the h u m m i n g b i r d t h a n to, say, the triceratops," he said. He was hopeful that NASA's CAT scan of Sue's skull would provide m o r e light than heat in the w a r m - b l o o d e d vs. cold-blooded debate. T h e trip to Huntsville should also answer questions a b o u t the brain size, if not the intelligence, of Sue a n d her fellow T. rex. H o r n e r reported that the CAT scan of the skull of the W a n k e l / M u s e u m of the Rockies' find revealed that the T. rex brain, while smaller t h a n that of an elephant or rhinoceros, "was larger t h a n that of almost all reptiles a n d o t h e r dinosaurs; proportionately, it was nearly as big as that of s o m e birds." He added that "to be a bird brain is no c o m p l i m e n t by o u r standards, but for most m e m b e r s of the animal k i n g d o m , the c o m p a r i s o n is flattering." Dr. Dale Russell, c u r a t o r of the N o r t h Carolina State M u s e u m of Natural History, was o n e of m a n y paleontologists interested in seeing what the CAT scan of Sue's skull would reveal a b o u t brain size. In 1981, Russell had speculated a b o u t the "evolution of intelligence" in dinosaurs if they had not b e c o m e extinct. This speculation was informed by his study of Troodon formosus, a small bipedal carnivore from the Cretaceous period that he found in Alberta in 1968. Working with Ron Sequin, a taxidermist, Russell created a fiberglass model of the " d i n o s a u r o i d " — t h e t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y version of what the dinosaur might have b e c o m e if its evolution h a d n o t been interrupted. T h e model stood for years in the National M u s e u m of Natural Sciences (now the C a n a d i a n M u s e u m of Nature) in Ottawa, Canada, next to a reconstruction of the Troodon. It looks decidedly m o r e like a h u m a n t h a n a dinosaur. It stands upright on two legs a n d has a large, r o u n d skull, a short neck, a n d no tail.

50

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Most of Russell's a s s u m p t i o n s a b o u t the d i n o s a u r o i d s t e m m e d from the fact that Troodon had a b r a i n weight to b o d y weight ratio that c o m p a r e d favorably to that of early m a m m a l s . T h e paleontologist guessed, therefore, that the creature w o u l d have h a d a brain weight to b o d y weight ratio similar to h u m a n s if it had survived the last 65 million years. If this a s s u m p t i o n is correct, the skull w o u l d have had to be larger to a c c o m m o d a t e the larger brain. This leads to the shorter neck theory; carrying this larger skull on a long, horizontal neck like that of Troodon w o u l d have been problematic. T h e upright b o d y leads in t u r n to the absence of the tail, which w o u l d no longer have been necessary to counterbalance the body. Like the dinosaur, the m o d e l features scaly skin, three-fingered h a n d s , a n d no external sex organs. Unlike the dinosaur, it has a belly b u t t o n ; Russell speculated that the d i n o s a u r o i d would have evolved from laying eggs to bearing its babies live. No nipples are discernible; just as b i r d s feed their babies r e g u r g i t a t e d food, so w o u l d the dinosauroid, Russell guessed. Of course, Russell's speculation a b o u t the d i n o s a u r of today would not be necessary if the world h a d n o t kissed all dinosaurs (and a b o u t 70 percent of all other species) good-bye s o m e 65 million years ago. W h a t caused this mass extinction? Scientists a n d lay people alike have forwarded a wide range of theories. In a classic 1964 article in the American Scientist titled "Riddles of the Terrible Lizard," Glenn L. Jepson, a Princeton scholar, catalogued the " W h a t killed the dinosaurs?" theories, from the sublime to the ridiculous: Authors with varying c o m p e t e n c e have suggested that d i n o saurs disappeared because the climate deteriorated (became suddenly or slowly t o o hot or cold or d r y or wet), or that diet did (with too m u c h food or n o t e n o u g h of such substances as fern oils; from poisons in water or plants or ingested minerals; by b a n k r u p t c y of calcium or other necessary elements). O t h e r writers p u t the b l a m e on disease, parasites, wars, anatomical or metabolic disorders (slipped vertebral discs, malfunction or imbalance of h o r m o n e a n d e n d o c r i n e systems, dwindling brain a n d c o n s e q u e n t stupidity, heat sterilization, effects of being

YOU

BETTER

GET

OUT

HERE,

PETE

51

w a r m - b l o o d e d in the Mesozoic w o r l d ) , racial old age, evolutionary drift into senescent over specialization, changes in the pressure or the c o m p o s i t i o n of the a t m o s p h e r e , poison gases, volcanic dust, excessive oxygen from plants, meteorites, comets, gene pool drainage by little m a m m a l i a n egg eaters, overkill capacity by predators, fluctuation of gravitational constants, development of psychotic suicidal factors, entropy, cosmic radiation, shift of Earth's rotational poles, floods, continental drift, extraction of the m o o n from the Pacific Basin, drainage of s w a m p a n d lake e n v i r o n m e n t s , sunspots, God's will, m o u n t a i n building, raids by little green h u n t e r s in flying saucers, lack of standing r o o m in Noah's ark, a n d paleoweltschmerz. In 1980, Luis Alvarez, a Nobel P r i z e - w i n n i n g physicist, a n d his son Walter, a geologist, offered their o w n t h e o r y after unusually high levels of the element i r i d i u m were found in rock dating back to the t i m e of the mass extinction. Iridium, rarely found on earth, is m o r e c o m m o n in rocks from outer space. T h e Alvarezes concluded that an asteroid or comet as big as M o u n t Everest had struck earth while traveling 100,000 miles per hour. T h e impact, they argued, threw up a dust cloud that darkened the sky a n d caused t e m p e r a t u r e s to fall so low that m o s t living creatures could n o t survive. Much of the scientific c o m m u n i t y reacted to this t h e o r y with skepticism until a huge crater was found in Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula. Still, there exist almost as m a n y theories today as in 1964. Bakker, for e x a m ple, suggests that dinosaurs died off from disease n o t a cosmic calamity. In The Complete T Rex, H o r n e r not only admits that he doesn't k n o w what caused dinosaurs to become extinct, he confesses, "I don't really c a r e . . . . I'm interested in h o w they lived." He adds, "Of course, to figure out how (they lived), I need the bones of dead dinosaurs." Like Sue's skull. Peter Larson awoke early on May 14, 1992, to finish preparing that skull for its trip to Alabama. He had just climbed out of the shower in his trailer behind the institute when he heard Lynn Hochstafl, one of the institute's preparators, call his n a m e . He looked at the clock. It was 7:30 AM. "You'd better get out here, Pete. This place is crawling with FBI agents," Hochstafl said.

52

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

"Are you kidding?" Assured that this was no joke, Larson dressed quickly and hurried outside. There he saw several m e n a n d w o m e n wearing blue jackets bearing the large yellow letters "FBI." These agents were s u r r o u n d i n g the institute with yellow police r i b b o n , with the w a r n i n g "SHERIFF'S LINE DO N O T CROSS" p r i n t e d in bold black letters. Larson moved inside the building to his office, where he was m e t by several m e m b e r s of his confused a n d terrified staff... a n d dozens of FBI agents and Sheriff's officers. "All told there were approximately 35 law enforcement officers, all with guns a n d sour looks," Larson recalls. Park Service Ranger Robins was also present. " W h a t are you doing here, Stan?" Larson asked. Robins said he was p a r t of the government's investigative team. "You m e a n you were spying on us?" Larson asked. His Voice betrayed his a s t o n i s h m e n t . Robins, w h o has since died, looked away, says Larson. Two agents, William Asbury a n d Charles Draper, approached Larson a n d h a n d e d h i m a federal search w a r r a n t alleging criminal activity, including felonies of stealing from g o v e r n m e n t land and from tribal land as well as violations of the Antiquities Act of 1906. U.S. District Judge Richard Battey had issued the w a r r a n t on the basis of affidavits sworn by Asbury a n d Robins. It d e m a n d e d that the institute s u r r e n d e r all the fossil remains of the Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton ( c o m m o n l y referred to as "Sue") . . . a n d other fossil specimens . . . taken from an excavation site on the p r o p e r t y of Maurice Williams . . . (and) all papers, diaries, notes, p h o t o g r a p h s , including slides, m e m o r a n d a , tape recordings, videotapes, m a p s , butcher paper, a n d samples or other records relating to the excavation of the Tyrannosaurus rex ("Sue") a n d other fossil specimens. "This can be real easy or real h a r d d e p e n d i n g on whether or not you are willing to cooperate," Larson recalls Agent Asbury saying. T h e usually calm Republican paleontologist was not quite ready to cooperate. "Shaking, I asked t h e m to indulge me for a few minutes, to please close their ears if what I was a b o u t to say offended t h e m . I then proceeded to read t h e m the Riot Act," he writes in The Rex Files.

YOU

BETTER

GET

OUT

HERE,

PETE

53

" H o w can you c o m e into o u r place of business a n d seize o u r p r o p erty without d u e process?" he fumed. " D o n ' t you k n o w the worst thing you could possibly to do Sue is m o v e her? Please leave her where she is. I'm a law-abiding citizen. I'll give you whatever guarantees you need, b u t please don't move a n d d a m a g e her." T h e n he called his lawyer. By the t i m e Duffy had arrived from Rapid City, virtually everyone in Hill City knew that the FBI h a d raided the institute a n d was preparing to haul Sue away. A sizable p o r t i o n of the p o p u l a t i o n in this part of the c o u n t r y is naturally suspicious of the federal g o v e r n m e n t . "[Its] Gestapo attitude doesn't go d o w n well in a small c o m m u n i t y like this," one citizen told the Journal. Beyond this philosophical disdain for federal intervention in the lives of its citizens, the residents of Hill City h a d a pragmatic reason for wanting to keep Sue at the institute. T h e T. rex promised to make t h e m p r o s p e r o u s by attracting tourists. In the weeks since the formal a n n o u n c e m e n t of the Black Hills M u s e u m of Natural History, the t o w n was on the verge of enacting a "bed a n d b o o z e " tax, with part of the sales tax increase going to purchase the 10 acres overlooking t o w n where the institute proposed to build the m u s e u m . Unwilling to see their d r e a m s shattered, the local residents quickly mobilized. They first asked area loggers to b r i n g in their logging trucks to block the convoy of g o v e r n m e n t vehicles parked outside the institute. After deciding that such a confrontation would be d a n g e r o u s as well as futile, they resorted to m o r e traditional forms of protest. Bette Matkins, the town's former mayor, hastily scribbled a sign reading, "PLEASE LEAVE O U R CITY IMMEDIATELY W I T H O U T SUE." She was joined in front of the institute by approximately 50 townsfolk carrying signs and shouting the same sentiment. Soon children p o u r e d o u t of the Hill City elementary school a n d ran d o w n Main Street to see what was h a p pening to their beloved Sue. Some of the protesters, y o u n g a n d old, were crying. The FBI ignored the tears a n d the chants. Duffy arrived to find t h e m going t h r o u g h the institute's files. " N o corner was safe from these people. We felt violated," says Larson. Several paleontologists a n d students from Larson's alma mater, the South Dakota School of Mines a n d Technology, were also on h a n d . Their job: to supervise the safe loading of the fossils in question.

54

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Larson a n d Duffy pleaded with Agent Draper to allow the CAT scan of Sue's skull to proceed. NASA, Bakker, a n d editors from National Geographic magazine (which p l a n n e d to p h o t o g r a p h the scan for an u p c o m i n g article on Sue) echoed this plea. T h e y all argued that the raid was jeopardizing the safety of o n e of the most i m p o r t a n t finds in paleontological history a n d delaying i m p o r t a n t research. "Mr. Draper seemed sympathetic to o u r plight a n d spent a great deal of time on the telephone talking to the powers that be in an a t t e m p t to allow the CAT scanning to take place," r e m e m b e r s Larson. The p r i m a r y "power that b e " was U.S. Attorney Schieffer. Technically, Schieffer was the "acting" U.S. attorney. He had been sworn in with that designation about five m o n t h s earlier in December 1991. The appointm e n t by South Dakota's Republican U.S. Senator Larry Pressler had surprised m a n y in the legal c o m m u n i t y because Schieffer had no federal trial experience. Rather, he had served as a legislative aide to Pressler since 1982.

He h a d

attended

Georgetown

University's

law school

in

Washington, D.C., at night and earned his degree in 1987. Schieffer h a d not initiated the investigation of the institute's excavation of Sue a n d other fossils. T h e office he took over h a d been investigating fossil collecting in South Dakota for a b o u t a year, says Assistant U.S. Attorney Bob Mandel. Mandel, w h o headed and continues to head the Rapid City office, says that in the weeks before Schieffer's arrival, there had been talk of initiating a sting or sending in an operative to expose illegal collections a n d sales. T h e institute h a d actually c o m e to the attention of federal a u t h o r i ties in the mid-1980s, thanks to Vincent Santucci, a y o u n g graduate stud e n t in vertebrate paleontology. In 1985 a n d 1986, Santucci had worked part t i m e as a ranger at Badlands National Park in South Dakota. D u r i n g his first days on the job, he was shocked to see people engaged in what he calls " s h o p p i n g b e h a v i o r " — t h e taking of fossils from park lands. "I t h o u g h t everyone knew you don't do that," he recalls. Eventually, Santucci caught an o l d - t i m e r w h o freely admitted that he h a d been m a k i n g a living for 25 years taking fossils a n d selling t h e m to rock shops a n d collectors a n d leading fossil h u n t e r s on gathering expeditions in the park. T h e m a n showed Santucci a scrapbook that included sales receipts. T h e Black Hills Institute was a m o n g those p u r chasing the illegally obtained fossils, says Santucci.

YOU

BETTER

GET

OUT

HERE,

PETE

55

Santucci says the old-timer explained that if he didn't take the bones they would erode away a n d be lost forever. " H e told me he was rescuing the fossils," says Santucci, w h o is n o w the chief ranger at Fossil Butte, a small national m o n u m e n t in southwest Wyoming. Nevertheless, the Park Service brought charges against h i m . He was found guilty a n d fined $75. The paucity of the penalty outraged Santucci. "It was a life-changing experience," he says. He vowed to devote his career to the enforcement of laws preventing the theft of treasures he considered every bit as i m p o r tant and valuable as archaeological artifacts. In 1986 Santucci began looking into the activities of the institute. He recorded his suspicions in reports to the park service. W h e n Stan Robins began working at Badlands National Park, he read the reports a n d talked to Santucci, w h o h a d m o v e d on to the Petrified Forest. Together, the two rangers tried to devise a plan for exposing the institute a n d others w h o m they felt might be engaged in illegal collecting. They believed that an arrest of a collector with a high profile might deter others from stealing fossils from public lands. "We wanted to d e m o n s t r a t e in a public way that we can't accomplish o u r mission w h e n people deliberately take fossils from public l a n d s — w h e n they k n o w it's illegal a n d do it for e c o n o m i c gain. We can't protect the public, [if] we don't have legislative or regulatory tools in place," says Santucci. Although the U.S. attorney's office won't confirm it, it appears that Robins had b r o u g h t the institute to the attention of the FBI a n d prosecutors before Sue was u n e a r t h e d . Santucci learned of Sue's discovery before the institute even m a d e the find public. He was alerted by a commercial collector w h o h a d visited the institute shortly after the bones were b r o u g h t back to Hill City. Having been unable to build a strong e n o u g h case against the Larsons to date, Santucci's eyes n o w lit u p . Sue was a "charismatic T. rex," explains the ranger. Surely the media, the public, a n d the fossil-collecting world would have to take n o t e if a "white m a n had ripped off a Native American" by taking such a valuable specimen from Indian lands. But were they Indian lands? Santucci called Robins, a n d the investigation was u n d e r way. Robins served on a state c o m m i t t e e looking into fossil collecting, as did Larson. So, too, did representatives of Native A m e r i c a n reservations in South Dakota. Soon after Robins heard a b o u t Sue from Santucci, the

TYRANNOSAURUS

56

SUE

C h e y e n n e River Sioux tribe lodged its complaint with the U.S. attorney's office. "In my first week as the U.S. attorney, I was asked to look into [that c o m p l a i n t ] , " Schieffer later explained. "I did a n d just approached it from an objective viewpoint a n d went by the law." T h a t viewpoint led h i m to authorize the raid. On the night before the raid, Schieffer sent o u t press releases a n d called a press conference for the m o r n i n g of May 14 in Rapid City. As a result, several television film crews came to Hill City as the FBI moved t h r o u g h the institute. So, too, did Schieffer, a fit-looking, well-dressed m a n in his late thirties with short black hair a n d a neatly t r i m m e d m u s tache. Late in the m o r n i n g , he m e t with the press outside the institute. T h e n he headed inside. Larson a n d Duffy again pleaded their case. "Let the specimen stay where it is a n d we'll make any guarantees you d e m a n d . Above all, please let the CAT scan proceed as planned," Larson r e m e m b e r s saying. Drue Vitter, the newly elected m a y o r of Hill City, m a d e the same request. Schieffer t u r n e d t h e m all d o w n . T h e skull was evidence in a criminal investigation at that point, Schieffer explains. "Letting it go (to NASA) w o u l d have been a n i g h t m a r e from a chain of custody standpoint." "Did you see what I saw?" Duffy asked Larson as they walked away from Schieffer. "You m e a n the television m a k e u p he [Schieffer] smeared all over his face?" To Larson this was evidence that Schieffer h a d an ulterior motive: Perhaps he p l a n n e d to r u n for political office in the future a n d felt that this case w o u l d give h i m the necessary exposure with the electorate. Knowing the television cameras would be at the institute, he m u s t have wanted to look his best, Larson reasoned. Schieffer would later admit that he was wearing pancake m a k e u p , b u t he said he h a d p u t it on for an earlier, unrelated television interview. He dismissed Larson's claim that seizure of the fossil was to be his stepping stone to elected office. Raiding the institute was so u n p o p u l a r that it could only h u r t s o m e o n e with political aspirations, he said. He adds that he h a d n o t even intended to go to the institute on the day of the raid. He did so only at the behest of the beleaguered FBI agents w h o did n o t want to deal with the media. "It was t h e m or me," he

YOU

BETTER

GET

OUT

HERE,

PETE

57

says. "So I bit the bullet." He suspects that the institute or Duffy wanted h i m there in hopes of creating a spectacle for the press. He adds that when Duffy had first called h i m to ask if a raid was being p l a n n e d , "I didn't k n o w h i m from Adam," b u t others in the office did. "All the old hands assumed this was g o n n a be a media event" w h e n they heard that Duffy represented the institute, he says. The institute staff, NASA, a n d the residents of Hill City were not the only ones surprised by the government's raid. Cheyenne River Sioux chairman Bourland said that he was shocked that the federal government had confiscated the bones. "The Cheyenne River Sioux tribe is not the enemy. We didn't have anything to do with sending these guys in . . . " Bourland a n d Larson a n d their respective supporters were just as surprised by Schieffer's p r o n o u n c e m e n t on the day of the seizure: " T h e fossil is property of the United States. Period." Not the property of the institute. Nor of the tribe. N o r of Maurice Williams. Schieffer explained that shortly after buying the land from a white homesteader in 1969, Williams had exercised his right to have the property held in trust for 25 years by the U.S. D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior u n d e r the Indian Reorganization Act passed in 1934. A m o n g other advantages, the act allowed Native Americans to avoid paying taxes on the land they p u t in trust. Putting one's land in trust, as Williams had, limited one's ability to sell the land to a non-Indian without the permission of the d e p a r t m e n t . Williams had neither sought nor received permission from the d e p a r t m e n t . Schieffer did not address the question of w h e t h e r selling d i n o s a u r bones was the equivalent of selling land. In fact, the controlling law he cited suggested just the opposite. T h e federal Antiquities Act of 1906 prohibited the removal of fossils from any land "owned or controlled" by the United States w i t h o u t a p e r m i t , he said. This included trust land, he continued, adding that the institute did not have a p e r m i t . Schieffer explained that other federal statutes m a d e it "a crime to steal governm e n t property a n d to take p r o p e r t y off Indian lands." The invocation of the Antiquities Act raised eyebrows in s o m e legal circles. Congress's i m m e d i a t e concern in passing the act h a d been the protection of Native American sites in the Southwest. According to Schieffer, the act "effectively reserved to the United States all rights in objects of antiquity by m a n d a t i n g that their excavation be 'for the b e n efit of . . . recognized scientific or educational institutions, with a view

58

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

to increasing knowledge of such objects, a n d . . . for p e r m a n e n t preservation in public places.'" Did a fossil qualify as " l a n d " held in trust? Or was a fossil an "object of antiquity?" Apparently Schieffer wanted the courts to sort this out. W h e n ? Schieffer said he didn't expect any arrests soon, reported the Journal. But he added: "This isn't exactly jaywalking. This is a priceless antiquity." As Schieffer spoke, the FBI c o n t i n u e d its search of institute files. " T h e y took everything," Larson says. "Even the letters I had written to schoolchildren." Meanwhile, the crew from the School of Mines was rewrapping Sue in plaster jackets similar to those she h a d w o r n 21 m o n t h s earlier. Larson a n d Wentz received permission to c o n t i n u e preparing Sue's skull so that it could be safely loaded for its trip to its "holding cell" at the School of Mines. ( T h e pair w o u l d later speculate that Schieffer waited to send in the FBI until Ranger Robins reported that work on the skull was almost d o n e ; otherwise it could not have been hauled away.) At the t i m e of the raid, Larson was hosting a friend from Canada. Leon Kinsbergen, originally from Holland, was a Holocaust survivor w h o h a d lost his wife a n d children in the concentration c a m p s . " H e was terribly upset d u r i n g the seizure [of Sue]," says Larson. "I tried to c o m fort h i m by explaining, ' D o n ' t worry, Leon. This is America.' Leon replied, ' T h a t is what makes it so terrible. I can't believe this is h a p p e n ing in America.'" Neither could the people of Hill City. Over the next three days, as Sue was loaded into boxes, hoisted o n t o flatbed trailers, a n d hauled away by the National Guard, 200 m e n , w o m e n , a n d children joined in protest outside the institute. Their h o m e m a d e signs reflected their feelings. " W H A M , BAM, T H A N K S U N C L E SAM." " S H A M E ON YOU." "FBI IS U.S. GESTAPO." By the t i m e the last g o v e r n m e n t t r u c k carrying Sue was loaded, Larson a n d his fellow workers were in tears. So, too, were some sympathetic m e m b e r s of the National Guard. Larson n o t e d that it had taken 17 days to dig Sue from the cliff, t h o u s a n d s of h o u r s had been invested in her preparation, a n d countless m o r e h o u r s h a d been spent thinking a b o u t every aspect of her care. And then: "They packed, loaded, a n d m o v e d the finest d i n o s a u r ever found in three days."

YOU

BETTER

GET

OUT

HERE,

PETE

59

Larson did m o r e than w r i n g his h a n d s d u r i n g those three days. Besides working with Wentz to prepare Sue's skull for removal, he worked with Mayor Vitter and tribal c h a i r m a n Bourland to broker a deal that might quickly resolve the matter. On Friday, May 15, day two of the seizure, the three m e n m e t in Hill City. "A c o m m o n concern that the fossil might be put in a place of the federal government's choosing helped bring us together," Bourland told the press after the meeting. "Let's n o t t u r n this into a fight between the U.S. g o v e r n m e n t a n d Hill City a n d the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe. Sue's big e n o u g h for everybody." Perhaps. But Schieffer seemed to be h o l d i n g all the cards, er, bones. He called the meeting a positive step b u t reasserted that he h a d no d o u b t s that Sue was the p r o p e r t y of the federal government. "My prim a r y directive u n d e r the Antiquities Act is to bring these [objects] back u n d e r the public d o m a i n , " he said. By the time Larson, Bourland, a n d Vitter m e t for a second t i m e in Rapid City on May 20, everyone from politicians to physicists to paleontologists had weighed in on the matter. South Dakota U.S. Senator Tom Daschle scheduled a t o w n meeting in Hill City for May 25. Marshall Center physicist Ron Beshears, w h o was to have supervised the CAT scan in Huntsville, expressed d i s a p p o i n t m e n t . "We look at a lot of rocket nozzles, and a lot of h a r d w a r e c o m p o n e n t s , " he said. "This [Sue] is an interesting project. We sure h o p e they will get this thing settled." Meanwhile, Currie, Bakker, a n d H o r n e r publicly expressed anger over the government's action. " I ' m r e m i n d e d of the last scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, in which the U.S. government, having seized the Ark of the Covenant, locks it away in a forgotten warehouse," said Bakker. H o r n e r agreed. T h e seizure was "absolutely ridiculous," he told The New York Times. He explained that federal officials could have left Sue where she was until the legal dispute was resolved. "Who's going to walk off with a t y r a n n o s a u r ? " he asked. Prosecutor Mandel h a d a different take. "There's n o t h i n g unusual about seizing evidence that is the subject of a criminal investigation," he would say later. "It's n o t o u r way to trust putative defendants to take care of evidence for us." Schieffer says other o p t i o n s were considered. "We struggled with it. T h e only other thing we could d o — w h i c h m i g h t have been better from a public relations s t a n d p o i n t — w o u l d have been patently unfair [to the

60

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

institute] if we were w r o n g — l o c k the d o o r s of the business. In retrospect that might have been m o r e media savvy, b u t we do things by the b o o k instead of the camera." In the same front-page article in which H o r n e r was quoted, the Times's science reporter Malcolm Browne touched on an issue that would grow in i m p o r t a n c e over the c o m i n g m o n t h s : the conflict between commercial fossil h u n t e r s like the Larsons a n d the academic c o m m u n i t y . S o m e scientists associated with universities or m u s e u m s resented the commercial h u n t e r s , arguing that they had no qualms a b o u t selling i m p o r t a n t fossils to private collectors, thereby removing t h e m from the realm of scientific study. Did the Larsons fit this profile? " M a n y p r o m i n e n t paleontologists say the Black Hills institute takes great care to preserve scientific assets a n d make t h e m available to scholars," wrote Browne. Bakker was o n e of these paleontologists. He a d m i t t e d that his original inclination was to l u m p the Larsons with the bad guys. "I t h o u g h t , O h , these guys are just ripping o u t bones a n d selling t h e m to Japan," he said. " T h e n I saw their lab." He told Browne that the Larsons weren't only fossil hunters, they were "scientists . . . w h o kept meticulous scientific records of their finds." T h e Times wasn't the only media giant to find the seizure newsworthy. Newsweek, the Wall Street Journal, a n d The Times of L o n d o n also carried feature articles, a n d NBC's Today Show did a segment from Hill City that included footage of local seventh graders presenting Larson with $47.50 for "Sue's Freedom Fund." By this t i m e the protest h a d extended to Rapid City. On Monday, May 18, a b o u t 30 people m a r c h e d outside the federal building that h o u s e d the U.S. attorney's office. " G - M E N CATCH CRIMINALS N O T DINOSAURS," read o n e sign. On the previous day the Rapid City Journal's editorial page had featured a large political c a r t o o n of a " G - m a n " dressed as a caveman and carrying a club that read "FBI." This figure stood outside a building identified as the institute. " H e says he's here to see 'Sue,'" said a n o t h e r figure, w h o was p o k i n g his head o u t from inside the institute. Three days later, on May 20, the Journal ran an editorial highly critical of Schieffer's actions. Titled, "Was an Army Necessary?" it read in part:

YOU

BETTER

GET

OUT

HERE,

PETE

61

. . . Poor Sue. It all seems so unnecessary. Instead of being allowed to remain at the institute, where trained a n d experienced workers could care for her a n d where she eventually would be shared with the public a n d with inquiring scientific m i n d s , she has been exposed to potentially d a m a g i n g t r a n s p o r t and has been boxed, sealed, a n d p u t in s t o r a g e . . . . It appears doubtful that Schieffer's heavy-handed action was required to resolve Sue's fate. T h e parties involved—with the possible exception of Schieffer—are willing to . . . a t t e m p t to work out an agreement. It seems entirely possible that a plan can be developed to ensure that Sue is on public display, that she is available for science to learn as m u c h as possible a b o u t her and her species, a n d that she doesn't become some entrepreneur's cash cow. And perhaps Hill City can have its m u s e u m , a n d the tribe can benefit. Accomplishing those goals is possible. And it very likely was possible w i t h o u t a r m e d g o v e r n m e n t intervention. W h e n Peter Larson left Hill City later that m o r n i n g for his meeting with Mayor Vitter a n d tribal c h a i r m a n Bourland, he agreed with the Journal that a plan was indeed possible. After the FBI had left, s o m e townspeople h a d taken scissors to the police tape that h a d s u r r o u n d e d the institute. Driving d o w n Main Street, Larson passed a row of utility poles w r a p p e d in yellow r i b b o n . Perhaps those r i b b o n s would soon be down a n d Sue w o u l d be back where she belonged, he h o p e d . At the first meeting, Bourland h a d voiced the tribe's desire for a cast of Sue for display on the reservation in Eagle Butte. Like the Larsons, he envisioned Sue as the centerpiece for a larger facility—one that, in the tribe's case, w o u l d include materials gathered d u r i n g the Black Hills land claims of the 1800s. Those materials were currently in a vault in Sioux Falls because there was no m o n e y to catalog a n d display t h e m . Presumably, the cast of Sue w o u l d d r a w tourists to the reservation. "It would only be right that there's a cast of Sue at Eagle Butte," Larson had said on May 15. As Eagle Butte was 200 miles from Hill City, the Sioux's Sue a n d the institute's Sue w o u l d not be in direct competition. Although the tribe a n d the institute appeared to be heading toward an agreement, they were forgetting (or ignoring) o n e very i m p o r t a n t

62

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

fact. Schieffer h a d said that neither of t h e m o w n e d Sue. So h o w could they m a k e an a r r a n g e m e n t to d e t e r m i n e the fossil's future? In an interview with USA Today published on May 20, Schieffer himself seemed to suggest that such an a r r a n g e m e n t might be possible, a n d he outlined the conditions. These conditions appeared consistent with Larson's intentions from the day he h a d a n n o u n c e d the discovery of Sue. Said Schieffer: " T h e institute m u s t guarantee that [the fossil] will be displayed p e r m a n e n t l y in a public m u s e u m a n d would not be sold or traded o u t of the c o u n t r y or into a private collection." T h e meeting later that day between Bourland, Larson, a n d a delegation from Hill City including Mayor Vitter lasted four h o u r s . T h e participants did n o t immediately reveal the substance of the discussion to the public. Later, however, Bourland told the Journal's Bill Harlan that the tribe h a d p r o p o s e d that Sue be displayed in a n e w m u s e u m in Hill City. In return, ownership of the T. rex would be transferred to the Sioux. T h e tribe w o u l d then give Hill City a 99-year lease on the d i n o s a u r a n d would help Hill City build the m u s e u m . Some Indian artifacts m i g h t also be displayed there. T h e tribe would share in some of the m u s e u m ' s revenues. Larson told Harlan that he had rejected the proposal. T h e institute still claimed ownership, he explained. Despite their inability to reach an understanding, the parties agreed to meet again, this time in Eagle Butte. T h a t meeting never took place. On May 2 1 , o n e day after the Rapid City talks, Bourland a n n o u n c e d that there would be no m o r e negotiations. He claimed that Larson h a d violated a "gentlemen's agreement" by issuing a press release earlier in the day. In the release, the institute had said that it was "accepting the t e r m s set forth yesterday by U.S. Attorney Kevin Schieffer . . . in USA Today" Bourland interpreted this as an a t t e m p t to cut a deal with the gove r n m e n t b e h i n d the tribe's back. He a d d e d that Schieffer had t e r m e d the press release a "cruel h o a x " a n d h a d told h i m that he had rejected the institute's offer. Duffy said that he had talked to Schieffer after the article had appeared a n d that the prosecutor h a d neither accepted n o r rejected the proposal. He a d d e d that n o t h i n g in the press release violated the "gentlemen's agreement," whose p u r p o s e was to keep tribe-institute negotiations confidential.

YOU

BETTER

GET

OUT

HERE,

PETE

63

Larson tried to strike a conciliatory note. "Boy, I'm really sorry they're m a d at us," he said. "This was not d o n e to insult the tribe, a n d if it did, I apologize." T h e institute's attempt to deal directly with Schieffer m a y have lacked tact, but it did make sense from a tactical point of view. For the m o m e n t anyway, Schieffer had the fossil a n d the power to decide what should be d o n e with it. In the USA Today article, he h a d appeared to publicly address the institute, explaining what they h a d to do to get Sue back. The institute's press release was an a t t e m p t to let Schieffer know, publicly, that they were willing to do what he wanted. But the institute's p r o m i s e to p u t Sue in a m u s e u m a n d never sell her out of the c o u n t r y or to a private collector was n o t e n o u g h to persuade the U.S. attorney to return the fossil or to d r o p his investigation. O w n e r s h i p of the fossil m a y have been the subject of debate at that point, acknowledges Schieffer. Federal laws could be interpreted to suggest that the tribe a n d Maurice Williams had legitimate claims to Sue. But, Schieffer adds, it was clear to the g o v e r n m e n t from the beginning that the institute had no claim to the bones. (This doesn't explain, h o w ever, why he suggested a possible solution to USA Today involving the institute.) D r o p p i n g the investigation was n o t a possibility either. " T h e m e d i a never grasped that the criminal investigation h a d precious little to do with Sue," he says. Before Sue had even been discovered, the U.S. attorney's office was looking into allegations that the institute stole fossils from public lands. T h e Sioux's complaint a b o u t the theft of the dinosaur just h a p p e n e d to coincide with that inquiry. Once they realized that Schieffer was not going to r e t u r n Sue voluntarily, Larson a n d Duffy weighed all their o p t i o n s . In doing so, they recognized that although Sue h a d lain u n d i s t u r b e d for 67 million years, time was n o w of the essence. Sue was being stored inside a 40-foot steel tank in a m a c h i n e s h o p next to a boiler r o o m at the School of Mines a n d Technology. Larson worried that the bones would be irreparably d a m a g e d if they sat there m u c h longer. Temperature variations in the r o o m could lead the bones to expand and contract a n d eventually split. And such variations were inevitable; the shop was not air-conditioned. T h e fossil faced a n o t h e r danger, according to Larson. Sue had pyrite in her bones. Pyrite is iron

64

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

sulfide, an inherently unstable material that decomposes. W h e n iron sulfide c o m b i n e s with water from the air, sulfuric acid is created, which slowly dissolves b o n e . As the b o n e a n d pyrite dissolve, calcium sulfate is created. Calcium sulfate is in g y p s u m , a fast-growing mineral that would actually p u s h the b o n e fragments apart. Temperature variations like those in the m a c h i n e s h o p w o u l d accelerate the process. H o w could the splitting a n d dissolving and fragmenting be prevented? By spreading o u t the bones so that they could be watched, Larson believed. By controlling the t e m p e r a t u r e so that it did not vary m o r e t h a n a degree or two each day. By c o n t i n u i n g to clean, prepare, a n d glue the bones so that fractures a n d cracks could be addressed as they occurred. In short, by r e t u r n i n g Sue to the controlled conditions a n d experienced preparators at the institute. On May 22, eight days after the raid, Duffy went to court. The headline in the Journal was an editor's d r e a m : "Institute to Sue for Sue." Tyrannosaurus rex h a d b e c o m e T y r a n n o s a u r u s lex.

4

TAKING A

H O W I T Z E R TO

A

FLY

"One million five hundred thousand," said Redden. Stan Adelstein had raised his paddle to make the bid, which was $300,000 more than he had intended to spend. Why not? he said to himself. If he could get Sue for one point five, the bank would surely give him the extra money. In 1770, 200 years before Sue was discovered, workers in a chalk q u a r r y in Maestricht, the Netherlands, found a pair of fossil jaws m o r e t h a n 3 feet long. They s u m m o n e d a local fossil collector, a retired G e r m a n military surgeon. He p r o m p t l y took the extraordinary specimen. Anatomists called in to d e t e r m i n e the jaws' origins were puzzled. O n e t h o u g h t that they m a y have c o m e from an ancient whale. A n o t h e r speculated that they belonged to a huge m a r i n e lizard. This seemed impossible. No lizards this big h a d ever been spotted in the water or on land. "Still," Wilford writes, "as so m a n y Europeans came to suspect, this did seem to be a prehistoric monster, s o m e t h i n g that might have lived before Noah, possibly before A d a m , a n d passed out of existence. But this was, it seemed, s o m e t h i n g they were n o t sure they believed in." The find received m u c h notoriety in Europe. Despite his inability to identify the jaws, the surgeon p r o u d l y displayed t h e m . In time, he was sued by the m a n w h o owned the land on which the jaws had been found. In all likelihood this was the first lawsuit ever fought over a fossil. The court held that the jaws belonged to the landowner. Eventually,

65

6 6

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

they were displayed in a glass shrine in the residence of the local canon. But the story does not e n d here. T h e fossil would go on to contribute to a revolutionary scientific theory forwarded in 1801 by the Paris-based paleontologist a n d anatomist Georges Cuvier. It took 25 years a n d the French a r m y to get the specimen to Paris. In

1795, while the a r m y of revolutionary France was fighting in

Holland, its leader, General Charles Pichegru, received a most unusual order: Seize the famous jaws of Maestricht. Legend has it that Pichegru offered 600 bottles of wine to the m a n w h o could liberate the fossil. W h e t h e r by wine, song, or s o m e other m e a n s , Pichegru accomplished his mission. He shipped the jaws h o m e , where they were soon examined by Cuvier, the foremost a u t h o r i t y on m a r i n e life and fossils of his day. Cuvier concluded that the jaws had indeed c o m e from a huge m a r i n e lizard that no longer existed a n d must have lived long, long ago. This analysis, coupled with his analysis of ancient elephant bones u n e a r t h e d in Paris, led h i m to proffer the t h e o r y of extinction. The fossils clearly suggested that s o m e forms of prehistoric life no longer existed, he argued. While the concept of extinction m a y seem perfectly obvious as the twenty-first c e n t u r y begins, it was heretical to m a n y in the early days of the nineteenth century. As Wilford notes, the Bible suggested s o m e t h i n g quite different. Ecclesiastes 3:14 reads: "I k n o w that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be forever: N o t h i n g shall be put to it, n o r any thing taken from it." Still, Cuvier a n d the jaws of what would eventually be n a m e d Mosasaurus carried the day. As the custody battle for Sue demonstrated, mankind's (and government's) instinct to possess rare fossils was as alive in 1992 as it had been two centuries earlier. The question of w h o o w n e d Sue had become so tangled that the institute felt it necessary to n a m e four parties as defendants in its lawsuit: the United States D e p a r t m e n t of Justice, the D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior, the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe, a n d the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology, where the T. rex was being stored and, where r u m o r had it, she might be displayed. T h e institute did not sue Maurice Williams, as he did not claim ownership of the fossil. In its suit before Judge Battey, the institute claimed ownership and sought to "quiet title" u n d e r the Quiet Title Act, a federal statute that,

TAKING

A

HOWITZER

TO

A

FLY

67

with certain exceptions, allows a p a r t y to sue the United States in a civil action to adjudicate a disputed title to real property. But the n a m e of the act was just a b o u t the only thing s u r r o u n d i n g Sue that was quiet. O n e day after filing the lawsuit, the institute showed questionable taste at the Dakota Days p a r a d e in Rapid City. Its float was a flatbed truck with crates like those used to t r a n s p o r t Sue after the seizure. On the truck, a m o c k FBI agent a d m o n i s h e d the crowd to stay back lest they be wrestled to the g r o u n d . The following day, it was Schieffer's t u r n to d e m o n s t r a t e q u e s t i o n able j u d g m e n t . In an o p - e d piece in the Sunday Journal, he discussed the p e n d i n g criminal action. "Because legal action is being considered, I cannot discuss m a n y specific facts of this case or argue its legal merits. But it is appropriate to explain the policy basis for actions taken." T h e policy explanation that followed looked remarkably similar to an argum e n t of the legal merits. T h e institute a n d the U.S. attorney weren't the only ones m a k i n g noise. Enter the normally staid Society of Vertebrate Paleontology: " T h e Society of Vertebrate Paleontology firmly s u p p o r t s the action of the U.S. attorney's office in Rapid City as regards the siezure [sic] of a specimen of Tyrannosaurus rex that apparently was collected on federal lands w i t h o u t p r o p e r p e r m i t t i n g p r o c e d u r e s as r e q u i r e d u n d e r federal statutes," began a one-page press release issued May 20 on SVP letterhead. The release concluded: " T h e [SVP] is extremely concerned as to the heightened activities of commercial collectors in recent years, resulting in loss of invaluable, n o n r e n e w a b l e paleontological specimens to foreign i n t e r e s t s . . . . " It was signed by Dr. Michael O. W o o d b u r n e , professor of geology a n d vertebrate paleontology at the University of California, Riverside. W o o d b u r n e , a past president of SVP, was c u r r e n t ly the chairman of its G o v e r n m e n t Liaison C o m m i t t e e . T h e last line of the d o c u m e n t read: "This statement has been a u t h o rized by the president of the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology." This apparently came as news to the president, Dr. C. S. Churcher, a professor of geology at the University of Toronto. Reached by the Journal's Harlan, C h u r c h e r said that he h a d n o t seen the press release before W o o d b u r n e had issued it to the news media. "I d o n ' t think we should make a j u d g m e n t here," said Churcher. He agreed that no fossil should

68

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

be taken illegally from any jurisdiction, but he said that he did not u n d e r s t a n d the U.S. law on the subject. T h e seizure of Sue had, he said, caught h i m by surprise. " F r o m a C a n a d i a n point of view, I find it utterly ridiculous," the SVP president added. Seven m o n t h s earlier Larson had been warmly received at the SVP convention in San Diego w h e n he h a d spoken of Sue's "startling surprises" a n d h a d invited fellow scientists to c o m e to Hill City to help study the T. rex. He h a d belonged to the SVP since 1974. "As a m e m b e r of t h e society, I'm deeply appalled by Michael W o o d b u r n e ' s actions," he told the Journal. Appalled b u t not surprised. A n d r e w Leitch once told Discover that W o o d b u r n e a n d a few like-minded colleagues were cond u c t i n g a "witch h u n t " against commercial collectors a n d considered Peter Larson "the antichrist." S o m e at the institute suspected that a handful of SVP m e m b e r s jealous of Larson's success may have pressured Schieffer or his superiors in Washington, D.C., to seize the d i n o s a u r by asserting that Sue's skull was a b o u t to be sold to a private party. Larson has never found a smoking gun, b u t he feels s o m e w h a t certain that a m e m b e r or m e m b e r s spread the story that Sue's skull wasn't really going to NASA—that, instead, it was going to the Georgia-based defense contractor, Martin Marietta C o r p o r a t i o n (which subsequently merged with Lockheed to become Lockheed M a r t i n ) . In reality, M a r t i n Marietta was merely helping to ship the skull to Huntsville. Schieffer insists that the t i m i n g of the raid h a d n o t h i n g to do with the i m m i n e n c e of the CAT scan; the investigation h a d merely reached the stage where the seizure of evidence was appropriate. Newspaper editorials a n d c o m m e n t a r i e s in several cities across the c o u n t r y asked why Sue h a d to be seized at all. T h e Cleveland Plain Dealer, for example, acknowledged that "an international bidding war for fine d i n o s a u r fossils has m a d e tough stewardship of the U.S. fossil record essential," but, the paper c o n t i n u e d , " . . . Schieffer displays tough stewardship only of his media image. . . . T h e recent action targets a respected research institute that has been at the forefront of dinosaur studies instead of the fossil brigands w h o p l u n d e r a n d destroy key evidence of o u r 65-million-year-old d i n o s a u r a n d geologic past." Writing in the Washington Times, conservative columnist Bruce Fein lamented: " T h e dispute epitomizes criminal justice m a d n e s s a n d the potential for

TAKING

A

HOWITZER

TO

A

FLY

69

societal strangulation by o m n i p r e s e n t intervention. . . . Doesn't the Tyrannosaurus rex farce suggest that the legal tipping point has been reached or passed in the United States?" Native American writers also weighed in. In his "Notes from Indian C o u n t r y " c o l u m n in the Lakota Times, T i m Giago did not pass j u d g m e n t on the legal issues. Focusing on the raid itself, he observed: "By charging into Hill City as if s t o r m i n g the beaches of Anzio, the federal marshals put the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe a n d o t h e r Indian tribes in a bad light. T h e near-violent actions m a d e it a p p e a r the tribes h a d something to do with it w h e n , in fact, the entire scenario developed in the office of . . . Kevin Schieffer. Certainly the bones weren't going to j u m p up a n d r u n off on their own." T h e Rapid City Journal, having already m a d e its feelings k n o w n , asked its readers what they t h o u g h t : " W h o should get Sue?" O n l y 5.4 percent of the m o r e t h a n 1000 respondents to the "informal a n d w h o l ly unscientific poll" voted for the federal government. A handful m o r e , 5.6 percent, said Sue belonged to Maurice Williams. Thirteen per cent said the tribe was the rightful owner. A n d an overwhelming majority, 76 percent, said Sue should go h o m e to the institute. T h e institute certainly wanted her h o m e — a n d sooner rather t h a n later. Five days after filing the lawsuit requesting title to Sue, Duffy, a dapper, h a n d s o m e m a n in his m i d d l e thirties, with neatly coiffed b r o w n hair, returned to court. This t i m e he filed a m o t i o n for injunctive relief. Arguing that the fossil was being irreparably d a m a g e d in the m a c h i n e shop, the m o t i o n sought the i m m e d i a t e r e t u r n of Sue to the institute p e n d i n g Judge Battey's decision of the ownership question. In affidavits attached to the motion, both Peter and Neal Larson noted several "physical and biological processes" that threatened the T. rex. The physical processes included mineralization, hydration, crystallization, and oxidation. Biological processes included mold a n d mildew forming in the cracks of the b o n e , conditions that could quickly erode the bone surface. Some of these problems had been caused by failing to let the wet plaster casts "protecting" Sue's bones dry properly and by using wet toilet paper to help seal the bones in the plaster. T h e brothers said that the casts should be removed and preservation of the bones should continue. The institute, they claimed, was the only venue nearby where such work could be d o n e and where Sue could be properly protected.

70

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Judge Battey, a former prosecutor a p p o i n t e d to the bench by Ronald Reagan, rendered a decision the following day. The judge appeared to the robe b o r n . He was a tall, distinguished looking gray-haired m a n in his sixties partial to b o w ties. His "presence a n d charisma" reminded Peter Larson of Charlton Heston. In m a k i n g this decision, Battey never addressed the allegations claiming d a m a g e to the fossil. Instead, he viewed the action for injunctive relief as an a t t e m p t to regain evidence seized in a criminal investigation. Unwilling to p e r m i t this, he denied the m o t i o n . Duffy i m m e d i ately appealed the decision to the United States C o u r t of Appeals for the Eighth Circuit. In his brief to the court, Duffy n o t e d that m o r e than mold and mildew threatened Sue. T h e b o n e s were precariously stacked a n d were positioned dangerously close to a boiler a n d corrosive chemicals. He also m a d e it clear that the g o v e r n m e n t could have access to Sue, should the court order her r e t u r n e d to the institute. On June 26, the court ruled. "This case concerns the care a n d custodianship of a 65-millionyear-old pile of b o n e s n a m e d Sue," began Judge Frank Magill in his o p i n i o n for the three-judge panel. He then addressed Sue's current living a r r a n g e m e n t : " T h e federal g o v e r n m e n t has stored this irreplaceable relic u n d e r circumstances that even its o w n experts describe as inadequate." T u r n i n g his attention to the raid itself, Magill wrote: " T h e governm e n t has a d m i t t e d it does not need 10 tons of bones for evidence in its criminal investigation. . . . We find the government's rationale for the seizure inadequate. T h e seizure n o t only keeps [the institute] from accessing the fossil, b u t it deprives the public a n d the scientific c o m m u nity from viewing a n d studying this rare find." Despite m a k i n g findings so favorable to the institute, the court did n o t order the g o v e r n m e n t to r e t u r n Sue to Hill City. Instead, it ordered Judge Battey to hold a full hearing to establish p r o p e r custodianship p e n d i n g d e t e r m i n a t i o n of the ownership question. Battey complied, setting the hearing for July 9. Schieffer h a d trouble with the Eighth Circuit's ruling. He noted that the court h a d seemed to diminish the severity of the potential charges facing the institute. Magill had written that the seizure was "based on an investigation into criminal charges that could result in, at most, 90 days

TAKING

A

H O W I T Z E R TO

A

FLY

71

in jail and a $500 fine." Wrong, said the acting U.S. attorney. In fact, the search warrant for Sue had listed two m i s d e m e a n o r s a n d o n e felony, a n d the m a x i m u m penalty for r e m o v i n g antiquities from federal land was six m o n t h s in jail and a $5000 fine for individuals or a $10,000 fine for companies. Was the felony still u n d e r consideration? Schieffer refused to c o m m e n t when asked this question by a Rapid City radio station after the Eighth Circuit ruled. But o n e thing was clear: A federal g r a n d j u r y h a d been convened on June 16 to consider criminal i n d i c t m e n t s against the Larsons a n d others. Five days before that grand jury h a d convened, Schieffer had slapped the institute with a s u b p o e n a for virtually all its business records—some 50,000 d o c u m e n t s , letters, m a p s , videotapes, and p h o t o g r a p h s , Peter Larson estimated. Duffy immediately went to court to quash the subpoena, saying that it was far too broad. "They came a n d asked for every record for t h e m to c o m b t h r o u g h and will try to find a crime, a n d we believe that's excessive," he said. Judge Battey allowed the s u b p o e n a to stand. Neal Larson was angry. " [ T h e s u b p o e n a ] has n o t h i n g to do with the court case. They're just trying to keep us busy, up in the air, a n d keep us mad," he told the press. "And it's working." Larson wasn't the only person angered by the action. Four days later, Wentz, w h o h a d gone from chief p r e p a r a t o r of Sue to chief organizer of the "Free Sue" m o v e m e n t , led s o m e 40 protesters to Pierre, the state capitol. T h e delegation lined up outside the federal building a n d held up signs reading, "DINOSAURS ARE FOR C H I L D R E N , N O T PRISON," "SEIZE DRUGS, N O T FOSSILS," a n d " H O N K FOR SUE." Of course, neither the s h o u t i n g n o r the h o n k i n g h a d any i m p a c t on the criminal investigation. W i t h i n a week of being convened, the g r a n d jury was visited by a forgotten face. "Fossil Finder Testifies in Sue Case" ran the headline in the Sioux Falls Argus Leader on June 2 1 . Since parting c o m p a n y with Peter Larson almost two years earlier, Sue Hendrickson had lived up to her "Indiana Jones" n i c k n a m e . She had continued searching for a m b e r in the D o m i n i c a n Republic a n d Mexico. She had also spent m u c h of her t i m e searching for shipwrecks in the waters off Cuba a n d the Philippines with a t e a m led by famous French m a r i n e archaeologist Franck G o d d i o .

72

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

T h e C u b a n effort was particularly noteworthy. Until Goddio's arrival in Havana in 1991, Fidel Castro had refused to let outsiders look for the treasure-laden galleons that h a d sunk on their way back to Spain. H e n d r i c k s o n was largely responsible for Castro's t u r n a r o u n d . D u r i n g a sailing regatta in 1979, she had b e c o m e friends with Vicente de la Guardia, the director of Carisub, Cuba's state-run m a r i n e archaeology effort. She had sent h i m the latest literature on diving techniques and e q u i p m e n t for almost ten years before seeing h i m again in Cuba in 1988. Two years later he h a d asked her to r e c o m m e n d a team to help Carisub. She h a d suggested G o d d i o , w h o then enlisted her to dive and serve as liaison with the g o v e r n m e n t . She was the only w o m a n on his diving crew. A l t h o u g h they were no longer dating, Hendrickson and Larson had kept in close contact d u r i n g this period. They saw each other at paleontology society meetings a n d talked frequently on the p h o n e . "We were still best friends," says H e n d r i c k s o n . W h e n the T. rex had been seized, Larson had p h o n e d Hendrickson in Seattle. She wasn't h o m e . She r e t u r n e d the call from France a few days later. "I kept saying, 'Really?' and laughing," she r e m e m b e r s , " b u t then it started sinking i n — t h a t it wasn't a joke. At that point everyone at Black Hills was in shock, b u t they were thinking, This is too bizarre. It will all get straightened out." Shortly before her g r a n d jury appearance, Hendrickson had joined Larson at the Tokyo Fossil a n d Mineral Show, where she helped at the institute's b o o t h . She had only been in Japan for a short t i m e w h e n she received a call from her m o t h e r in Seattle. FBI agents h a d p h o n e d Mrs. H e n d r i c k s o n a n d told her they h a d a s u b p o e n a for her daughter. The g o v e r n m e n t wanted Sue to testify before the Rapid City grand jury investigating the institute. M r s . H e n d r i c k s o n had referred the agents to her son, John, Sue's brother, w h o was a p a r t n e r at a major Seattle law firm. On her r e t u r n to Seattle, H e n d r i c k s o n m e t with her brother and other attorneys from his firm before calling the FBI. T h e lawyers advised her that the g o v e r n m e n t often applies pressure on potential witnesses by threatening to prosecute t h e m . Therefore, she should try to strike a deal for full i m m u n i t y from prosecution before testifying before the grand jury. A l t h o u g h she felt she had d o n e n o t h i n g w r o n g , Hendrickson

TAKING

A

HOWITZER

TO

A

FLY

73

agreed to this plan. T h e lawyers had received s o m e oral c o m m i t m e n t s from the prosecution before H e n d r i c k s o n j o u r n e y e d to Rapid City, b u t n o t h i n g regarding i m m u n i t y had been p u t in writing. In Rapid City, H e n d r i c k s o n was represented by Gary Colbath, a lawyer w h o had previously served as an assistant U.S. attorney. For three days, Hendrickson a n d Colbath m e t with Schieffer, Assistant U.S. Attorney David Zuercher, a n d FBI agents. As the prosecutors debriefed his client, Colbath a t t e m p t e d to finalize the i m m u n i t y deal. Despite his o n e - t i m e m e m b e r s h i p in the fraternity of prosecutors, Colbath, w h o died in 1999, had little kind to say a b o u t the c o n d u c t of Schieffer or Zuercher: "Kevin Schieffer h a d no trial experience, a n d David Zuercher was just vindictive." The g o v e r n m e n t offered a n d w i t h d r e w i m m u n i t y to H e n d r i c k s o n three times, all the while threatening to bring charges against her. Finally, a deal was struck, a n d H e n d r i c k s o n testified before the g r a n d j u r y for two days. " T h e prosecutors t h o u g h t I was going to be the star witness against Pete—the ex-girlfriend w h o spills her guts," she says. " T h e n they realized I didn't fit that m o l d a n d that I didn't have any information to give t h e m anyway. I didn't k n o w of anything the institute had d o n e wrong." Hendrickson recalls that as the a p p e a r a n c e dragged o n , Zuercher grew increasingly frustrated with her. "He'd show me pictures of s o m e site a n d ask if I could identify it a n d recall collecting there. T h e g r a n d jury was totally bored. Zuercher would get so upset with my answers that he'd have me leave the r o o m until he could calm down." T h e prosecutors told H e n d r i c k s o n that she was n o t to talk to the press a n d not to have any contact with anyone from the institute. " C a n they do this to m e ? " she asked Colbath. Aware of the fragility of the a r r a n g e m e n t with the government, Colbath advised her to follow these instructions. "That's when the n i g h t m a r e really began," H e n d r i c k s o n recalls. "These were my closest friends a n d we couldn't talk d u r i n g the period we really needed each other. I can r e m e m b e r driving t h r o u g h South Dakota thinking I should just stop at the institute or call, b u t I couldn't." She followed the case t h r o u g h her friend Casey C a r m o d y , a Seattle mineral a n d fossil dealer w h o had friends at the institute. Although Hendrickson couldn't talk to the media, Colbath could. "I don't ever recall such a Mickey M o u s e procedure or being jerked a r o u n d

74

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

as m u c h as I was appearing with Ms. Hendrickson," he told the press. "She has confirmed what everyone has said, that no o n e at the institute did anything unlawful or intended to circumvent the law. . . . T h e U.S. attorney's office was taking a howitzer to a fly, so I wouldn't be surprised to see these people severely charged. T h e federal government has never been able to say, 'We screwed up.'" Seven years later Colbath felt the same way. He t e r m e d the investigation o n e of the worst abuses of prosecutorial power that he had seen in his 25 years of criminal defense work. While the g r a n d j u r y considered w h e t h e r to indict the Larsons criminally, the SVP did indict t h e m professionally. On June 26, the same day the Eighth Circuit ordered Judge Battey to hold a hearing to determ i n e t e m p o r a r y custody of Sue, the SVP executive c o m m i t t e e sent Schieffer a letter stating its "strong objection to the removal of the t y r a n n o s a u r 'Sue' from its present location . . . t o the Black Hills Institute, a commercial fossil-collecting business." Writing on behalf of the c o m m i t t e e , SVP Secretary-Treasurer Dr. Robert H u n t argued that "professional paleontological expertise" was available at the School of Mines a n d Technology to properly care for a n d preserve the fossil. He also cited "a recently prepared conservator's report [that] attests to the fact that the skeleton is not deteriorating in any way." T h e following day, 13 SVP m e m b e r s , including H u n t , W o o d b u r n e , a n d President Churcher, got personal. In a second letter to Schieffer, they wrote: Officers of the Black Hills Institute, a commercial fossil business, have not, in o u r o p i n i o n , published scientific studies d e m o n s t r a t i n g serious scientific expertise in d i n o s a u r research in the past a n d have n o t d e m o n s t r a t e d an ability to carry out n o n c o m m e r c i a l scientific work, n o r do we believe they are able to identify the best experts to u n d e r t a k e such a study. In fact, it is o u r o p i n i o n that the "institute" often chooses associates w h o s u p p o r t their views on commercial collecting, whereby some fossils are sold, others are retained for their o w n purposes which often reflect the l o n g - t e r m commercial interests of the business a n d not those of the scientific discipline of vertebrate paleontology or the general public.

TAKING

A

HOWITZER

TO

A

FLY

75

Larson had no d o u b t that W o o d b u r n e a n d H u n t , longtime critics of the institute were b e h i n d the letters. H u n t , c u r a t o r of vertebrate paleontology a n d professor of geology at the University of Nebraska, seemed to admit as m u c h in a 1992 interview with the American Lawyer. He told the magazine that the signatories to the letters felt that "the press was portraying the professional c o m m u n i t y as divided on this issue," when in reality paleontologists were " u n a n i m o u s in c o n d e m n a tion of this supposed institute." On this particular issue, H u n t ' s o w n research proved suspect. T h e professional c o m m u n i t y of which he spoke seemed far from u n a n i m o u s . After this letter was sent to Schieffer ( a n d the executive c o m m i t tee r e c o m m e n d e d expulsion of any m e m b e r found collecting on federal lands), Clayton Ray of the Smithsonian, an SVP vice president slated to b e c o m e president in three m o n t h s , resigned in protest; he had been an SVP m e m b e r for three decades. Dr. D o n a l d Wolberg, a paleontologist at the New Mexico School of Mines a n d acting president a n d secretary of T h e Paleontological Society, also resigned. He h a d been an SVP m e m b e r for 26 years. Bakker t e r m e d the two letters "scandalous, quite probably libelous." The n o t i o n that the institute chose only associates w h o s u p p o r t e d its view was particularly ridiculous, he said; the Larsons invited everyone to Hill City, including H u n t . As for the institute's scientific skills, he said, "We stiff PhDs, speaking in Latin, wearing elbow pads, criticize the Larsons for not having degrees, b u t their research is better t h a n ours." Not surprisingly, at the hearing to d e t e r m i n e t e m p o r a r y custody of Sue, Wolberg and Bakker testified on behalf of the institute, while H u n t testified as an expert for the g o v e r n m e n t . Their respective evaluations of Sue's condition either d e m o n s t r a t e d that scientists s o m e t i m e s reasonably differ in their analyses of similar data or that scientists s o m e t i m e s unreasonably allow personalities a n d politics to influence their decisions. Or b o t h . In its o p i n i o n calling for the hearing, the Eighth Circuit had written: "If the parties could c o m e to a c o m m o n u n d e r s t a n d i n g on this issue, the court as well as the public at large w o u l d be well served." As in the past, the parties couldn't reach an u n d e r s t a n d i n g . A n d so 100 p e o ple packed Judge Battey's c o u r t r o o m on July 9. While most of those in

76

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

attendance s u p p o r t e d the institute, the government was not without friends. T h e C h e y e n n e River Sioux tribe, w h o m the institute had voluntarily dismissed from the lawsuit, had filed an amicus curiae (friend of the c o u r t ) brief s u p p o r t i n g the U.S. position that Sue should t e m p o r a r ily r e m a i n at the School of Mines. Wolberg took the witness stand first. D u r i n g his testimony, he c o m pared Sue to "an original or a second draft of the Constitution" and a "Van Gogh or Whistler or Remington." This T. rex, he said, was a "totally u n i q u e specimen, educationally, culturally, scientifically." Wolberg h a d visited the m a c h i n e s h o p at the School of Mines. W h a t did he think of the present storage conditions of this u n i q u e specimen? Duffy asked. "Trying not to overreact, I was appalled," said Wolberg. High heat a n d humidity, the possibility of fire a n d flood, a n d the presence of corrosive chemicals all threatened Sue. So, too, did the fact that she was being stored in the Rapid City flood plain. She was already suffering from pyrite disease a n d her plaster jackets were cracking a n d in need of repair. "It would have been the last place I would have put this." W h e r e did Sue belong? "I would give it back to the Black Hills Institute on the quickest train you can find.... They can appraise, treat, curate, a n d store it if needed," Wolberg said. Cross-examined by Schieffer, Wolberg a d m i t t e d that Peter Larson was a close friend. Was he testifying as a friend or an objective scientist? Both, said Wolberg. Leitch a n d Bakker agreed with Wolberg's findings. Bakker, too, saw evidence of pyrite disease. It was i m p o r t a n t that the fossil be cleaned a n d examined frequently, he said. T h e institute was the only place to store Sue d u r i n g the m a n y m o n t h s that would pass before ownership was decided. (Prior to the hearing, Judge Battey estimated that it could take up to two years before the o w n e r s h i p question was resolved.) T h e g o v e r n m e n t also presented three experts. Pat Leiggi, a preparator for the M u s e u m of the Rockies, testified that Sue should remain where she was. " M o r e d a m a g e will occur by m o v i n g the fossil," he explained. Sally Shelton, a natural history conservator for the Texas M e m o r i a l M u s e u m at the University of Texas in Austin agreed. She said she found little difference between the h o u s i n g at the institute a n d that at the School of Mines. Transporting Sue back to Hill City was 100 times m o r e likely to d a m a g e the fossil t h a n allowing it to remain at its present

TAKING

A

HOWITZER

TO

A

FLY

77

location, she said, likening the effect of m o v i n g the bones to the effect of setting t h e m afire. At the government's request, Shelton h a d p e r f o r m e d an x-ray test on a small piece of b o n e to check for pyrite. She stated that the risk factor of pyrite disease was "very low." She a d d e d that m o n i t o r i n g e q u i p m e n t should be installed in a n d a r o u n d the container h o u s i n g Sue a n d that the bones should be checked regularly. T h e School of Mines h a d already begun installing such e q u i p m e n t . Bakker, w h o had respected Shelton's previous scholarship, was perplexed by her findings. "She just looked at a chip from the corner of o n e b o n e . That's like looking at o n e chip of a m a n s i o n a n d concluding it doesn't have termites," he says. Hunt, however, seconded Shelton's opinion. "From what I've seen . . . [Sue] is in better condition than most people realize.. . . The building is adequate to protect this fossil," he testified, adding that the level of pyrite in bones was so low that they might not even require treatment. H o w many bones had he examined? Under cross-examination by Duffy, H u n t said he had looked at only three bones and analyzed only one small fragment for pyrite. T h r o u g h H u n t , Schieffer introduced into evidence the two letters written by SVP m e m b e r s critical of the institute's scientific capabilities and supportive of the c u r r e n t storage plan. As Larson's lawyers noted, however, the signatories h a d never seen the institute. Or Sue. Or the machine shop. T h e institute a n d the g o v e r n m e n t lawyers weren't the only ones asking questions of witnesses. Examined directly by Judge Battey, Peter Larson said he would spend whatever it took to preserve Sue if she were returned to the institute. Larson also promised to post a b o n d on Sue guaranteeing that the institute would not use her for any commercial purposes. Neal Larson also took the stand. T h e questions Schieffer asked h i m had little to do with Sue's physical fitness a n d m u c h to do a b o u t the institute's moral fitness to h o u s e her. Larson a d m i t t e d that after receiving Ray's p h o n e call a b o u t the FBI's call to the Smithsonian, he had changed the dates a n d descriptions on several boxes of fossils. He explained that he had h o p e d that this would prevent their seizure in the event of a raid. "I was scared a n d stupid," he said. "I don't k n o w why I

78

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

did it." He emphasized that w h e n the agents arrived, he immediately told t h e m what he had d o n e a n d corrected the dates. C o u r t recessed for the weekend after two days of testimony. That Saturday, July 11, the long-awaited Black Hills M u s e u m of Natural History had its g r a n d o p e n i n g . T h e o p e n i n g did not take place on the 10-acre site where the Larsons h o p e d to build the m u s e u m ; the not-forprofit c o r p o r a t i o n they h a d established had n o w h e r e near the m o n e y to purchase the land, a n d , of course, the status of the m a i n attraction was still in limbo. T h e several h u n d r e d people attending the event instead gathered at the m u s e u m ' s " t e m p o r a r y h o m e , " the institute. T h e building's facade n o w featured a huge painting of the T. rex crying b e h i n d prison bars. "Free Sue," read the caption. Mayor Vitter, Bakker, a n d Wolberg spoke to the gathering, as did Gus Hercules, the Libertarian party candidate for the United States Senate. Hercules had been o n e of the most persistent critics of the raid since day one, endearing himself to the Larsons a n d others w h o t h o u g h t that in seizing Sue, the g o v e r n m e n t had once again gone too far. Over the last two m o n t h s , the longtime Republican paleontologists and m a n y of their friends had evolved into libertarians. W h e n testimony concluded two days later, Judge Battey i m m e d i a t e ly a n n o u n c e d his decision: Sue would stay where she was. " T h e court has been presented with no credible evidence that the fossil is suffering damage," he said. He a d d e d that b o t h H u n t a n d Shelton were particularly strong witnesses. In contrast, he wrote in his formal o p i n i o n three days later, " T h e court finds that the interests of the plaintiffs [the institute] a n d their expert [witnesses] are m o r e commercial t h a n scientific. Their interest in science is secondary to the financial value of the fossil's possession." Larson found this last statement particularly perplexing. T h e judge had apparently ignored the fact that long before the seizure, Larson had a n n o u n c e d that Sue was not for sale and had invited SVP m e m b e r s to study her. Having settled the t e m p o r a r y custody issue, Battey t u r n e d to the t e r m s of Sue's interim storage. T h e judge said he would allow only necessary care a n d m a i n t e n a n c e of the fossil until ownership was decided. Both the institute a n d the g o v e r n m e n t could s u b m i t requests for storage conditions to h i m by August 15. Finally, the judge had harsh words

TAKING

A

HOWITZER

TO

A

FLY

79

for Neal Larson. Changing the dates on the boxes " m a y well constitute obstruction of justice," he said. T h e Larsons a n d their s u p p o r t e r s were devastated. Judge Magill's Eighth Circuit o p i n i o n had suggested that Sue was inadequately h o u s e d in the machine shop a n d was better off at the institute. N o w Judge Battey had ruled otherwise, o r d e r i n g that he w o u l d p e r m i t no "curation of this specimen" until he d e t e r m i n e d ownership. H o w was science served when research was halted? they asked. As the c o u r t r o o m e m p tied, Neal Larson sat head in h a n d s , weeping. Duffy a n n o u n c e d that once again he would appeal Judge Battey's decision. At one point d u r i n g the hearing, Duffy had attempted to p u t the dispute in perspective for Judge Battey: " N o federal c o u r t r o o m should end up the tool of what is essentially a faculty war between paleontologists," he argued. Like m a n y wars, this o n e seems to have been fought for control of turf d e e m e d valuable by the combatants. In this case the battle was over public lands rich with fossils of scientific and commercial i m p o r t . The law with respect to the taking of archaeological remains from federal lands has been clear since the enactment of the Archaeological Resources Protection Act of 1979 (ARPA). The act imposes stiff penalties for the removal of h u m a n artifacts and skeletons from public lands. It has this to say regarding fossils: "Nonfossilized and fossilized paleontological specimens, or any portion or piece thereof, shall not be considered archaeological resources . . . unless found in an archaeological context." Similar legislation or clarity regarding paleontological resources found on public lands does not exist. Schieffer's assertion that the Antiquities Act applied to the removal of fossils seemed to fly in the face of several court cases a n d D e p a r t m e n t of Interior m e m o r a n d a from 1977 and 1986. In the absence of o n e controlling federal statute, a patchwork permit system had evolved. Before collecting or removing any specimens, fossil h u n t e r s were supposed to get the permission of whichever federal agency was responsible for the land in which they were interested, typically the Bureau of Land M a n a g e m e n t or the U.S. Forest Service. With limited resources for policing, these agencies enforced the p e r m i t system sparingly a n d randomly. In the mid-1980s, a panel of the National Academy of Sciences addressed the question of fossil collecting on public lands. T h e panel

80

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

solicited i n p u t from land managers, professional groups, amateurs, a n d commercial collectors. Larson was a m e m b e r of the panel. He noted that there were t h o u s a n d s of a m a t e u r collectors in America, a few h u n d r e d university-affiliated paleontologists, a n d a b o u t 100 commercial collectors. He also noted that every year millions of fossils "weathered o u t " on federal land so that they were visible. Sadly, they soon eroded and were lost to everyone because no o n e was there to collect t h e m . He concluded that if m o r e people were allowed to look for fossils, m o r e fossils w o u l d be found. In 1987, after three years of study, the panel issued its findings. T h e 243-page report r e c o m m e n d e d that all public lands in the United States with the exception of national parks a n d D e p a r t m e n t of Defense p r o p erty be o p e n e d "for scientific p u r p o s e s " to commercial collectors a n d a m a t e u r s as well as paleontologists affiliated with m u s e u m s a n d universities. "Paleontology is best served by u n i m p e d e d access to public lands," the panel declared. T h e panel also r e c o m m e n d e d that "fossils of scientific significance should be deposited in institutions where there are established research a n d educational p r o g r a m s in paleontology." But this did n o t appease hard-line o p p o n e n t s of universal access. T h e war between usually civil scientists was on. T h e brethren of the SVP were divided on this issue. However, a vocal faction of SVP m e m b e r s , including H u n t a n d W o o d b u r n e , lobbied against a d o p t i o n of the r e c o m m e n d a t i o n . As a result, it died. W o o d b u r n e t u r n e d d o w n a request to be interviewed for this b o o k after receiving a list of questions concerning commercial collecting in general a n d the Larsons in particular. He did, however, issue a statement s u m m a r i z i n g his position: T h e full educational a n d scientific potential of all vertebrate fossils can only be realized if they are collected in a m a n n e r consistent with those goals, a n d retained in perpetuity in the public d o m a i n in educational a n d scientific institutions that, u n d e r permit, steward those collections for all Americans. Commercialization of fossil vertebrates is inconsistent with those goals.

TAKING

A

HOWITZER

TO

A

FLY

81

W h e n it was suggested to H u n t that this b o o k w o u l d explore b o t h sides of the debate over commercial collecting, he r e s p o n d e d that j o u r nalists have "had the wool pulled over their eyes" by "glib" p r o p o n e n t s of the universal access c a m p . To suggest that there is a debate suggests that the viewpoint of the commercial collectors has s o m e credence, he said, when in reality it has no credence. He said that his o w n statements are often taken out of context by writers a n d that he generally prefers not to participate in the dialogue. Larson was willing to discuss what he believes to be the origin a n d history of H u n t ' s a n i m o s i t y towards h i m . He p o i n t s to an incident that occurred on H u n t ' s turf in the mid-1980s. T h e institute h a d g o n e to Nebraska in search of horses from the Pliocene Epoch 5 million to 2.6 million years ago. Larson asked a r a n c h e r near the t o w n of C u l b e r t s o n for permission to look on his property. T h e rancher informed Larson that a University of Nebraska t e a m h a d previously d u g on the land, b u t they h a d n ' t been back for s o m e t i m e . Larson then contacted the g r a d uate s t u d e n t w h o had supervised the dig a n d asked if the institute could explore the site. This s t u d e n t , w h o was in H u n t ' s p r o g r a m , "said he was finished with his research a n d h a d no p r o b l e m with o u r collecting," according to Larson. T h e institute t h e n found three-toed Pliocene horses. " H u n t was furious," says Larson, w h o adds that, to his knowledge, the University of Nebraska t e a m has never r e t u r n e d to the site. After this incident, Larson and H u n t clashed over political turf—SVP policy. W h e n H u n t became chairman of the SVP's government liaison committee—the b o d y responsible for formulating legislative proposals— he closed meetings to all SVP m e m b e r s except those on the committee, says Larson. Larson was allowed to speak to the committee, but he had to leave the r o o m when finished. He protested this, as well as a poll about collecting that H u n t sent to those in the SVP. Believing the poll asked the wrong questions and that the data in the questionnaire about collecting were skewed, Larson sent his o w n questionnaire to m e m b e r s . H o w did H u n t respond to Larson after these clashes? " H e never screamed at m e , b u t he treated me as if I weren't h u m a n , " says Larson. From his previous statements, it appears that H u n t truly believes in his position a n d is tenacious in advancing it. C o m m e r c i a l collecting,

82

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

particularly collecting on public lands, is, to h i m , an evil. "This is a religion to him," says Larson. Those w h o held H u n t ' s views had been pressing for a crackdown on commercial collectors before the seizure of Sue. T h e federal government h a d responded in the mid-1980s by u n d e r t a k i n g an investigation of fossil h u n t e r s in W y o m i n g as well as in South Dakota. T h e institute had b o u g h t s o m e specimens from the W y o m i n g h u n t e r s , and the governm e n t h a d s u b p o e n a e d records of these transactions. "We complied, gave t h e m the d o c u m e n t s they wanted," says Larson. T h e government's claim that Sue had been discovered on federal lands seemed to energize the anticommercial faction. In addition to intervening in the lawsuit, the SVP's executive c o m m i t t e e approved a resolution calling for prohibition of commercial collectors from public lands a n d authorizing the expulsion of SVP m e m b e r s w h o "engage in commercial collection a n d sale of vertebrates from federal lands." T h e committee's June 26 letter to Schieffer explained its reasoning: C o m m e r c i a l collecting of fossil vertebrates has p r o m o t e d the charging of collecting fees on private lands. Professional vertebrate paleontologists c a n n o t afford these fees for b o t h financial a n d ethical reasons. As a result, professional paleontologists in the employ of universities a n d m u s e u m s m u s t rely on federal lands for access to i m p o r t a n t paleontological resources to cont i n u e their research p r o g r a m s . Hence, prohibition of c o m m e r cial collecting on federal lands is essential to scientific progress in vertebrate paleontology. D u r i n g the s u m m e r of Sue, spurred by the renewed furor over commercial collecting on federal lands, U.S. Senator Max Baucus of M o n t a n a introduced legislation intended to give fossils the same protection that archaeological remains enjoy u n d e r ARPA. Baucus's proposal, titled "Vertebrate Paleontological Resources Protection Act," required that any collector—professional or a m a t e u r — s e c u r e a p e r m i t before picking up a vertebrate fossil a n d could collect specimens only if affiliated with a m u s e u m or school that "has no direct or indirect affiliation with a c o m mercial venture" that collected fossils. "If we continue to allow these p u b -

TAKING

A

HOWITZER

TO

A

FLY

83

lie resources to be sold to the highest bidder, we stand to lose crucial sources of scientific research a n d public education," Baucus said when introducing the bill. Violations of the act could be punishable by a $10,000 fine and up to o n e year in prison. A second offense could result in up to five years in prison a n d a fine of up to $100,000. The New York Timess Malcolm Browne noted: ' " U n d e r the proposed law even a camper w h o wandered into a national park or Indian reservation a n d removed a fossil b o n e might be sent to jail for up to o n e year." The Baucus bill eventually died in a Senate c o m m i t t e e . But Baucus and the SVP executive c o m m i t t e e did have a legitimate b o n e to pick with at least s o m e commercial collectors. Clearly, there were s o m e "fossil brigands." T h e Baucus caucus pointed to a study of s o m e 40 fossil sites on public lands. Fully o n e - f o u r t h of these sites h a d been vandalized, surveyors reported. T h e Larsons a n d other established commercial h u n t e r s w h o deal regularly with m u s e u m s a n d universities as well as private collectors had no patience for these plunderers, either. T h e y gave a bad n a m e to the profession a n d r u i n e d potential collecting sites a n d should be punished, Peter Larson said. Larson, however, took issue with the SVP executive c o m m i t t e e s ' jeremiad. A line-by-line reading did reveal several fallacies. Responding to the charge that commercial hunters caused private landowners to levy collecting fees, Larson said, let he w h o is without blame cast the first stone (or fossil). He referred his critics to the period after the Civil War. At that time the search for dinosaurs moved from the eastern United States to the West, where Joseph Leidy had first identified the remains of Trachodon a n d Deinodon in 1858. Two scholarly paleontologists, Othniel C. Marsh, a professor at Yale a n d curator of the university's Peabody M u s e u m , and Edwin Drinker Cope, a former Haverford College professor w h o often conducted surveys for the United States— paid local landowners and "scouts" for bones a n d directions to fossil beds. The practice led Leidy to complain: "Professors Marsh and Cope, with their long purses, offer m o n e y for what used to come to me for nothing, and in that respect I cannot compete with them." Larson a n d others also t o o k issue with the SVP's assertion that financial a n d ethical considerations m a d e it impossible for paleontologists in the employ of universities a n d m u s e u m s to pay private collect-

84

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

ing fees. First of all, not all private l a n d o w n e r s charged collecting fees. Moreover, m a n y of the universities a n d m u s e u m s that employed paleontologists had no financial or ethical q u a l m s a b o u t paying commercial collectors directly for their finds. Indeed, m o s t of the Black Hills Institute's sales were to universities a n d m u s e u m s . It was unclear that these supposedly financially strapped a n d ethically b o u n d university a n d m u s e u m paleontologists were truly limited to collecting on federal lands. But even if this were the case, why was, as the H u n t letter stated, "prohibition of commercial collecting on federal lands . . . essential to scientific progress in vertebrate paleontology"? There were millions of acres of federal land rich in fossils. Wasn't there e n o u g h land to go a r o u n d for the commercial collectors as well as for the university a n d m u s e u m paleontologists? O n e was tempted to ask why H u n t a n d his colleagues, w h o t h o u g h t so little of the scientific expertise of the Larsons a n d their ilk, wouldn't be able to d e m o n s t r a t e that in the field the fittest scientists survive. Baucus a n d the SVP 13 had a point that, lamentably, some commercial collectors were finding i m p o r t a n t specimens a n d removing t h e m from scientific inquiry (in the United States, at least) by selling t h e m o u t of the c o u n t r y or to individuals instead of institutions. T h e M u s e u m of the Rockies' Leiggi, w h o h a d encouraged Baucus to draft legislation, noted that a Japanese c o r p o r a t i o n had offered $4 million for the skull of the T. rex his m u s e u m u n e a r t h e d in 1990. Legitimate commercial fossil h u n t e r s did n o t deny that the willingness of deep-pocketed foreign m u s e u m s a n d private collectors at h o m e a n d abroad h a d raised the price that not-for-profit institutions in the United States h a d to pay for specimens. They noted, however, that c o m mercial collectors h a d found m a n y of the most i m p o r t a n t fossils that had e n d e d up in the h a n d s of American scientists. T h e institute had found Sue, the best T. rex ever, on what the g o v e r n m e n t claimed was federal land. Was the SVP saying that because the Larsons were commercial collectors, science w o u l d have been better off if the dinosaur h a d never been found at all? Bakker, for one, saw the SVP position as disturbingly elitist. "It's a classic ivory tower response," he told Discover magazine shortly after the seizure. "Because these people have their P h D s , they think they have s o m e God-given d u t y to protect antiquities a n d fossils. They're like self-

TAKING

A

HOWITZER

TO

A

FLY

85

appointed guardians of the faith; they w a n t to m a k e fossils off limits to anyone without a doctorate. It's especially tragic because it threatens good amateurs—who've d o n e m o r e for the science t h a n anyone." In a 1998 interview, Dr. Louis Jacobs, a professor of geological sciences at S o u t h e r n

Methodist

University a n d p r e s i d e n t of SVP,

unashamedly admitted that paleontologists at not-for-profit institutions should feel superior to commercial hunters. "They [commercial hunters] don't play any role in science

I think you could find any graduate stu-

dent and they would have greater interest, greater dedication, greater desire to build a better world [than do commercial hunters]." These students and their professors are "dedicated to doing something g o o d " as opposed to m a k i n g money, Jacobs insisted. He seemed unimpressed with the a r g u m e n t that those at universities a n d m u s e u m s might be moved by factors other t h a n altruism, such as the o p p o r t u n i t y for financial gain or professional advancement a n d recognition. Larson bristles at Jacobs's blanket c o n d e m n a t i o n , then offers his o w n generalization a b o u t his critics. "There's always a small segment of any profession, a p o r t i o n of the scientific c o m m u n i t y for whatever reason, that has a distrust. It's a feeling that s o m e people have of inadequacy, envy—although they don't see it as that. They have a frustration at not really m a k i n g any significant advances of their own. T h e n they see s o m e o n e with no [formal] training or specific skills [like a Sue H e n d r i c k s o n ] . T h e y feel they p u t in the early effort, they h a d the schooling, and they feel rewards should c o m e to t h e m . "But there is m o r e to it t h a n schooling. You can't just stand at the foot of a m o u n t a i n . You have to be willing to climb the m o u n t a i n . A lot of a r m c h a i r paleontologists have never grasped the fact that you have to work to discover something. If you w a n t to find s o m e t h i n g in the field, you have to go o u t into the field. You can make wonderful discoveries opening m u s e u m drawers, b u t it's n o t the same thing." Larson acknowledges that there isn't a lot of g o v e r n m e n t m o n e y for paleontological research. "That is frustrating. But m a n y of these [academics] earn comfortable livings. T h e y could spend s o m e of their o w n m o n e y to go o u t into the field. T h e y have the t i m e — b u t they don't do that." As the war of words over the pros a n d cons of commercial collecting intensified, the battle for t e m p o r a r y custody of Sue moved toward a

86

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

resolution. Almost two years to the day that Hendrickson had first spied Sue, the Eighth Circuit agreed to hear the institute's appeal of Judge Battey's decision to keep the b o n e s at the School of Mines until the question of ownership was decided. T h e court would hear oral argum e n t s from the parties on O c t o b e r 14 in St. Paul. At the same time, the institute's original suit to d e t e r m i n e ownership (not t e m p o r a r y custody) took an interesting twist. On July 3 1 , the institute a m e n d e d its original complaint that had sought to quiet title. In this new complaint, the institute a b a n d o n e d the quiet title theory and did n o t request that the c o u r t d e t e r m i n e o w n e r s h i p at all. Instead, the a m e n d e d complaint raised a single issue: w h e t h e r the institute's claim to Sue, based on its purchase from Maurice Williams, was superior to the government's need for the b o n e s as evidence in a criminal action the g o v e r n m e n t had yet to file. W h y would the institute a b a n d o n its claim that it owned Sue and argue n o w only that it had a superior possessory claim? Quite simply, the lawyers n o w felt that this was the best way to regain the bones. Judge Magill's June 26 o p i n i o n had, after all, stated that the "rationale for the seizure [was] inadequate." T h e o p i n i o n h a d also seemed to suggest that the g o v e r n m e n t h a d to prove its need for the dinosaur, or give her back until the ownership question was finally settled. T h e institute lawyers felt that if they could get Sue back t e m p o r a r i ly u n d e r this theory, they would never have to give her up again. Their reasoning went like this: Both the tribe a n d the g o v e r n m e n t were claiming ownership. T h e tribe was threatening to b r i n g its o w n action for the T. rex in tribal court, where it m i g h t receive a m o r e favorable hearing. But if it did so, it would have to n a m e the U.S. g o v e r n m e n t as a defendant. Invoking the defense of "sovereign i m m u n i t y " ( i m m u n i t y from the jurisdiction of the court by virtue of its status as a g o v e r n m e n t ) , the United States w o u l d never c o m e to court, a n d the tribe's ownership claim could n o t be adjudicated. Similarly, if the United States sued for title to Sue in federal court, the tribe could also invoke sovereign i m m u nity (or so Judge Magill suggested). A n d with the tribe absent, the federal c o u r t could n o t adjudicate its claim. Either the tribe or the governm e n t could waive the defense of sovereign i m m u n i t y , b u t the institute lawyers did n o t t h i n k they would. A n d if they didn't, then Sue would r e m a i n at the institute p e r m a n e n t l y by default.

TAKING

A

HOWITZER

TO

A

FLY

87

W h e t h e r or not the b o n e s were needed by the g o v e r n m e n t , the criminal investigation was proceeding . . . a n d expanding. C o u r t d o c u m e n t s filed by Schieffer alleged that the case involved reservation land and "other public lands" in South Dakota. T h e acting U.S. a t t o r n e y also said that he was investigating "ongoing, multistate criminal activity." The government was obviously looking into m o r e t h a n the collection of Sue. No d o u b t the second s u b p o e n a requesting virtually all of the institute's business records was aimed at getting information a b o u t n u m e r ous other dealings. By the end of August, Larson was b e g i n n i n g to learn which dealings. The government h a d s u b p o e n a e d d o c u m e n t s from N i p p o n Express, an air freight c o m p a n y in Minneapolis. N i p p o n had once shipped a replica of a d i n o s a u r back from Japan to the institute. T h e n a m e s of g r a n d j u r y witnesses were also surfacing. S u b p o e n a e d by Schieffer, Clayton Ray h a d testified for two days. Why? D u r i n g the raid, Larson had casually m e n t i o n e d to an FBI agent that a friend from the Smithsonian (Ray) had called a few days earlier a b o u t a r u m o r that the bureau wanted to k n o w h o w to move a dinosaur. Larson r e m e m bered that the agent had told h i m that the call m a y have constituted obstruction of justice. Schieffer also s u b p o e n a e d Eddie Cole, a Utah fossil h u n t e r with w h o m the Larsons had d o n e business for 15 years. Cole told the Journal's Harlan that Ranger Robins a n d FBI agent Asbury h a d visited h i m at his h o m e . They were interested in a prehistoric turtle he had sold Larson in 1991. According to Cole, the pair insisted that he had taken the turtle from an excavated hole on Bureau of Land M a n a g e m e n t (BLM) grasslands. He said that the investigators knew that he a n d his family had c a m p e d near the hole; they even knew he h a d left 21 Merit cigarette butts there. T h e y had videotapes a n d p h o t o g r a p h s of the site as well. Cole denied the allegations. He said he had found the turtle on private land a n d b o u g h t it from a rancher. He h a d then sold it to Peter Larson, w h o helped with the excavation. Cole was also questioned a b o u t a partial skull that he h a d sold the institute. He admitted that it may have c o m e from state or federal land, but insisted he hadn't revealed that to Larson because " h e wouldn't have b o u g h t it." Questioned by Harlan, Larson confirmed this. He insisted

88

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

that he never knowingly b o u g h t specimens collected on public land, but acknowledged that he didn't always personally check the location. "We buy from people we trust," he explained. T h e skull in question was that of a mosasaur. Cole claimed that Robins a n d D r a p e r h a d harassed a n d threatened h i m d u r i n g their initial interrogation. Larson also told Harlan that he feared that the g o v e r n m e n t was subjecting m a n y of his clients a n d suppliers to the same t r e a t m e n t . Duffy added: " [ T h e government] is sending w o r d o u t planet-wide to the paleontology c o m m u n i t y that my clients are u n d e r investigation." He accused Schieffer of conducting a "scorched earth" investigation. "It's a frightening glimpse of justice u n d e r the New Order," he said. On O c t o b e r 10, scores of institute s u p p o r t e r s gathered at the Heart of the Hills Convenience Store Exxon & Super 8 Motel parking lot next to the institute for the "First A n n u a l Sue Freedom Run, Walk, H o p , Skip, Jump, or Crawl." For a $10 fee that went to the Free Sue fund, participants received a T. rex T-shirt, post-race refreshments, a n d the chance to win prizes d o n a t e d by m o r e t h a n 25 local businesses, including Hill City Jewelers, Jake's Casino at the M i d n i g h t Spa, Frosty's Drive-in, a n d Andrea's Chain Saw Sales a n d Service. Four days later, institute lawyers gathered at the federal building in St. Paul for oral a r g u m e n t s on their appeal of Judge Battey's decision to let Sue remain at the School of Mines. T h e y k n e w that this proceeding m i g h t be their best chance to win the T. rex her freedom. In June, Judge Magill's three-judge panel h a d seemed considerably m o r e sympathetic t h a n Judge Battey h a d ever been. T h e institute a n d the g o v e r n m e n t h a d previously submitted lengthy briefs with n u m e r o u s cases s u p p o r t i n g their respective positions. T h e court also had the 600-page record of the July hearing presided over by Battey, including the testimony of each side's experts on pyrite disease a n d d i n o s a u r storage. Duffy felt confident that the briefs a n d the record favored his side, a n d he m a d e the legal a r g u m e n t s as any lawyer would. T h e n he told the court h o w he really t h o u g h t the case should be decided: "It comes d o w n to this," he said, pausing for effect before continuing. " W h o loves this d i n o s a u r m o r e ? "

5

WHO

OWNS

SUE?

"Two million, three hundred thousand," Redden said. Stan Adelstein's paddle and Peter Larson's heart sank at the same time. "I guess we lost her," Larson sighed. No moment of silence was observed. The bidding continued. "Two million seven hundred thousand." Larson couldn't believe the numbers. Few newspapers outside South Dakota covered Sue Hendrickson's discovery of the greatest of the great dinosaurs. In contrast, the FBI raid on the institute was featured on several n e t w o r k news shows a n d garnered front-page headlines across the c o u n t r y a n d a r o u n d the world. T h e seizure, not the science, was the story. Few reports focused on Peter Larson's findings a b o u t the a n a t o m y a n d social habits of T. rex. Larson was m u c h m o r e compelling as a David fighting the Goliath of governm e n t than he was as a paleontologist. This focus on personality rather t h a n papers is hardly new. In April 1875, the National Academy of Sciences met in Washington, D.C. At the meeting, Yale's Othniel C. M a r s h — t h e second person in history to be n a m e d a professor of paleontology, the first in A m e r i c a — p r e s e n t e d i m p o r t a n t new findings on the d e v e l o p m e n t of the brain. T h e p o p u l a r press yawned. Reporters had gone to that gathering of the country's most respected scientists looking for something quite different. T h e New York Tribune

89

90

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

wrote: " H a d Prof. Cope been present we might have hoped for a battle of bones between h i m a n d Prof. Marsh, a n d possibly for an episode that would have served for a s u p p l e m e n t to the m e e t i n g . . . . But everything was decorous a n d slightly dull." O n e scientific theory holds that, like clockwork, every 27 million years s o m e m o n u m e n t a l natural catastrophe causes mass extinction. T h e extinction of d e c o r u m a n d dullness in the world of science occurs considerably m o r e regularly. T h e uncivil b u t highly entertaining late twentieth-century battle of bones involving Larson, the SVP, the federal government, a n d Native Americans reminded m a n y w h o h u n t stories a b o u t fossil hunters of the equally contentious b u t engrossing late nineteenth-century battle of bones involving Marsh, Cope, academic societies, the federal government, a n d Native Americans. Cope vs. Marsh was not a lawsuit but a feud played out in the court of public opinion for almost 30 years. The hatred these two paleontologists felt for each other eventually eroded their images as m e n of character. At the same time, however, the rivalry moved t h e m to almost literally move m o u n t a i n s and make m a n y of the best fossil discoveries in history. It apparently began with a mistake. In 1869, C o p e restored the remains of a giant reptile, the Elasmosaurus, in the M u s e u m of the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences. Marsh, w h o had previously paid h o m a g e to their friendship by n a m i n g a n e w species Mosasaurus copeanus, c a m e to see the display. His subsequent recollection of the events sheds insight into each man's personality: W h e n Professor C o p e showed it to me a n d explained its peculiarities I noticed that the articulations of the vertebrae were reversed a n d suggested to h i m gently that he h a d the w r o n g end foremost. His indignation was great, a n d he asserted in strong language that he h a d studied the animal for m a n y m o n t h s a n d o u g h t to at least k n o w o n e end from the other. It seems he did not, for Professor (Joseph) Leidy in his quiet way took the last vertebra of the tail, as Cope had placed it, a n d found it to be the atlas a n d axis, with the occipital condyle of the skull in position. This single observation of America's most distinguished comparative anatomist, w h o m Cope has wronged grievously in n a m e a n d fame, was a d e m o n s t r a t i o n that could n o t be questioned, a n d when I informed Professor Cope of it his

WHO

OWNS

SUE?

9 1

w o u n d e d vanity received a shock from which it has never recovered, and he has since been my bitter enemy. Professor Cope h a d actually placed the head on the end of the tail in all his restorations, but n o w his new order was not only extinct, b u t extinguished. In his comprehensive biography of Marsh a n d Cope, The Dinosaur Hunters, Robert Plate paints pictures of two very different personalities with the very same goal. T h e m e t h o d i c a l M a r s h a n d the i m p e t u o u s Cope were each c o n s u m e d with being the m o s t famous, m o s t highly regarded scientist of the day. Each k n e w that the o t h e r stood in the way of reaching that goal. Cope took the early lead. Born outside Philadelphia in 1840, he was put on the fast track by his father, a devout Q u a k e r w h o had retired comfortably from an inherited business. At 6, y o u n g Edwin wrote his g r a n d m o t h e r an enthusiastic letter a b o u t a visit to a m u s e u m where "I saw a M a m m o t h a n d Hydrarchas, does thee k n o w what that is? It is a great skeleton of a serpent." At 8, he was filling his sketchbook with scale drawings a n d precise descriptions of everything from t o u c a n s to a fossil skeleton of Ichthyosaurus. A l t h o u g h he received the highest m a r k s for his work at school, his c o n d u c t was d e e m e d " n o t quite satisfactory." Plate describes h i m as "a b o r n fighter." At age 18, C o p e s u b m i t t e d his first p a p e r to the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. Naturally, the older scholars received it skeptically. But on reading, " O n the P r i m a r y Divisions of the Salamandrae with Descriptions of a New Species," these scientists were so impressed that they published it in the spring 1859 Proceedings of the academy. Marsh was not nearly so precocious. Born in 1831, in the northwest corner of New York State, he grew up in m o d e s t circumstances. His father had t u r n e d to farming after his successful shoe m a n u f a c t u r i n g business toppled in the depression of 1837. Marsh did d e m o n s t r a t e an early interest in rocks a n d fossils, often forgoing his chores to go collecting with a neighbor. But at age 20, he was contemplating a career as a carpenter, not a scientist. Before forsaking his collecting h a m m e r for a carpenter's h a m m e r , Marsh inherited $1200. His relatives, concerned a b o u t his future, pushed him to use the m o n e y to attend Phillips Academy at Andover,

92

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Massachusetts. Marsh wasn't terribly interested in going to school, but he was anxious to endear himself to his uncle George Peabody, w h o had m a d e a fortune in business a n d n o w lived in L o n d o n . Peabody was generous to relatives w h o showed pluck. To d e m o n s t r a t e his pluck, Marsh enrolled at Andover as a 20-year-old freshman, some seven years older than most of his classmates. He drifted t h r o u g h his first year. Then, impelled to reconsider his life after his 22year-old sister died in childbirth, he dedicated himself to his studies. After graduating from Andover as class valedictorian, Marsh entered Yale with his uncle's financial s u p p o r t . While there, he spent m u c h of his free t i m e on fossil-hunting field trips. G r a d u a t i n g Phi Beta Kappa in 1860, he entered Yale's Sheffield Scientific School for graduate study. The following year, at age 30, he published his first paper, a look at the gold fields of Nova Scotia. His second paper m a d e a splash. After Louis Agassiz, the world's leading authority on fossil fishes, misidentified a specimen, Marsh wrote an article correctly refuting h i m . By the time M a r s h refuted Cope's restoration eight years later, the two m e n h a d published m a n y m o r e papers a n d distinguished t h e m selves in the scientific c o m m u n i t y . In 1860, the 20-year-old Cope studied comparative a n a t o m y with Leidy at the University of Pennsylvania a n d recatalogued the Academy of Natural Sciences' herpetological collection. Over the next two years, he wrote 22 papers. In 1863, his Quaker father, h o p i n g to keep h i m o u t of the Civil War, sent h i m to Europe to c o n t i n u e his education. In Germany, C o p e m e t Marsh, w h o was studying at the University of Berlin. M a r s h later wrote: " D u r i n g the next five years, I saw h i m often a n d retained friendly relations with h i m , although at times his eccentricities of c o n d u c t , to use no stronger t e r m , were hard to bear. These I forgave until the n u m b e r was a p p r o a c h i n g nearly the Biblical limit of seventy times seven." Cope's c o n d u c t was indeed eccentric. He suffered severe b o u t s of melancholy. He also engaged in whirlwind spurts of activity bordering on the m a n i c . After r e t u r n i n g to America in 1864, he wrote n u m e r o u s scientific papers, including 26 in 1868 alone. By this time he had m a r ried, had a child, t a u g h t at Haverford College, resigned his professorship, h u n t e d fossils in M a r y l a n d a n d N o r t h Carolina, a n d moved to Haddonfield, N e w Jersey.

WHO

OWNS

SUE?

93

Haddonfield, h o m e of Hadrosaurus foulkei, was rich in fossil beds. Cope found "seven huge Saurians" there in a short p e r i o d of time, including an 18-foot leaping d i n o s a u r that he called Laelaps aquilungus. W h e n Marsh learned of his friend's discovery in the spring of 1868, he went to Haddonfield. T h e two m e n spent a pleasant week together looking for mosasaurs, plesiosaurs, a n d dinosaurs. By this time Marsh had b e c o m e America's first professor of paleontology, thanks largely to George Peabody. Marsh had convinced his rich uncle to e n d o w a m u s e u m of natural history at Yale. There was no formal quid pro q u o . Marsh h a d strong credentials for the post. But full professorships were usually given to older, m o r e experienced scholars. Shortly after h u n t i n g fossils with C o p e in Haddonfield, Professor Marsh b o a r d e d the n e w U n i o n Pacific Railroad a n d m a d e his first fossil-hunting trip in the West. In Antelope Station, Nebraska, he found the bones of an extinct three-toed horse that h a d stood only 3 feet high. "Research proved h i m to be a veritable missing link in the genealogy of the m o d e r n horse," Marsh later wrote. For the first time, the academic c o m m u n i t y took serious notice of h i m . T h e general c o m m u n i t y took notice the following year, w h e n Marsh exposed a hoax. In 1868, an agnostic farmer from B i n g h a m t o n , N e w York, had b e c o m e fed up with B i b l e - t h u m p i n g preachers w h o claimed there had been ancient giants. T h e farmer secretly hired a stone carver to create such a giant out of stone. He then a d d e d touches to m a k e it look authentic a n d let it weather for a year before b u r y i n g it near Syracuse. In October of 1869, he arranged for a friend to dig a well at the burial spot a n d find the p h o n y giant. O n c e u n e a r t h e d , the "Cardiff Giant" b e c a m e a national sensation. Fundamentalist preachers hailed the "fossilized h u m a n being" as p r o o f that the scriptures were true. Esteemed scientists did n o t believe it to be a petrified h u m a n , b u t they nevertheless hailed it as the m o s t remarkable archaeological artifact ever found in the United States. The creator sold a p o r t i o n of his interest in the Giant for $30,000. It was moved to Syracuse, where u p w a r d of 3000 people a day paid to see it. Unable to buy the original, P. T. B a r n u m c o m m i s s i o n e d a copy a n d displayed it in a New York City m u s e u m , where it drew h u g e crowds. Enter Marsh, the longtime specialist in finding a n d exposing mistakes. He immediately saw that the statue was m a d e of g y p s u m so solu-

94

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

ble that it could have survived only a few years u n d e r g r o u n d without dissolving. " T h e whole thing is a fraud," he p r o n o u n c e d , pleasing the p e r p e t r a t o r of the h o a x b u t embarrassing the scientists a n d clergy w h o h a d been fooled. While M a r s h was m a k i n g a n a m e for himself, C o p e was c h a m p i n g at the bit to get o u t West. Unlike Marsh he had neither an uncle n o r a university to fund the trip. C o p e did, however, have a farm that his father h a d b o u g h t years earlier. C o p e the elder agreed to sell the p r o p erty to pay for a western expedition. C o p e didn't m a k e the expedition until the fall of 1871. Once past the Mississippi, he spent m u c h of his time in the Kansas chalk fields. There he joined forces with Charles H. Sternberg, a y o u n g fossil collector w h o w o u l d soon m a k e his o w n m a r k in the world of paleontology. Despite frequent gales a n d s a n d s t o r m s , the d u o u n e a r t h e d the largest sea turtle found to that date, an 8 0 0 - p o u n d fish that Cope n a m e d Portheus ("bulldog t a r p o n " ) , a n d a n e w mosasaur, Tylosaurus, that had jaws big e n o u g h to swallow Portheus. "I secured a large p r o p o r t i o n of the extinct vertebrate species of Kansas, although Prof. Marsh had been there previously," C o p e crowed. M a r s h had been t h r o u g h m u c h of the West previously. In 1870, the professor a n d a g r o u p of 12 students from Yale spent almost six m o n t h s in Nebraska a n d W y o m i n g . T h e y started in the s u m m e r at Fort M c P h e r s o n in Nebraska, where they met Buffalo Bill Cody. Marsh and C o d y became fast friends, a n d whenever Buffalo Bill took his show east, he visited Marsh's classes in New Haven. Escorted by the Fifth Cavalry, the Marsh p a r t y m o u n t e d Indian ponies taken in battle from the Cheyenne a n d headed for Wyoming. Riding 14 h o u r s a day, they faced hailstorms, swarms of mosquitoes, a n d prairie fires that the Sioux set to deter t h e m . From Fort Bridger in southwest W y o m i n g , they set o u t for a legendary valley of huge petrified bones. T h e y didn't find it, b u t they did find a b o n e yard rich with m a m m a l remains. Before heading back in December, Marsh shot a buffalo, discovered a m o s a s a u r burial g r o u n d , a n d found a m o s t unusual hollow b o n e . " T h e bird characters were there, b u t such a joint no k n o w n bird possessed, as it indicated a freedom of m o t i o n in o n e direction that no well-constructed bird could use on land or water," Marsh wrote. He concluded

WHO

OWNS

SUE?

9 5

that the b o n e had belonged to a giant pterodactyl, the flying reptile of Mesozoic times. The following year the professor discovered remains of the first birds to be recognized as having teeth. This led T h o m a s Huxley to write: " T h e discovery of the n o t c h e d birds by Marsh completed the series of transitional forms between birds a n d reptiles a n d removed Mr. Darwin's proposition 'that m a n y animal forms have been utterly lost' from the region of hypothesis to that of d e m o n s t r a b l e fact." Relations between Marsh a n d Cope h a d grown strained in the years following Cope's mistaken reconstruction of the Elasmosaurus. Each took potshots at the other whenever possible. But it wasn't until 1872 that war broke o u t between the two. Cope, w h o h a d attached himself to a U.S. D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior geological surveying party, triggered the hostilities by daring to invade Wyoming's Bridger Basin, which Marsh h a d been d r a i n i n g of fossils for two years. Problems immediately arose. Each side spied on the other. Marsh bribed telegraphers for news of Cope's finds. O n e of Cope's scouts regularly reported new discoveries to Marsh. A n d C o p e paid Marsh's m e n to lead h i m to their leader's sites. Trickery was also c o m m o n . After observing Marsh's p a r t y leave a site e m p t y - h a n d e d , C o p e decided to try his luck there. He found a skull and loose teeth, leading h i m to describe a new species. S o m e time later, when he saw an identical skull with very different teeth, he realized he'd been fooled. Marsh's m e n h a d intentionally "salted" the site with the bones of two different species to mislead h i m into the embarrassing misidentifi cation. Nathan Reingold, a u t h o r of Science in Nineteenth-Century America, describes Cope a n d Marsh as "robber b a r o n s trying to corner the oldbones market." D u r i n g their first years o u t west, the pair primarily found the old b o n e s of m a m m a l s , fish, a n d lizards. Eventually, the bones and the stakes grew considerably larger. In 1877, A r t h u r Lakes, a teacher a n d p a r t - t i m e fossil collector, found some giant bones e m b e d d e d in rock near the town of M o r r i s o n , Colorado. Western collectors knew what to do when they discovered a promising site: contact Marsh or Cope, each of w h o m was willing to pay for good fossils or good leads to fossils. Lakes sent Marsh a letter with sketches.

96

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

While waiting for a response, Lakes found m a n y m o r e bones. He sent boxes of these fossils to Marsh at Yale a n d C o p e in Philadelphia for identification. Marsh responded first. He sent Lake a check for $100 and told h i m to keep the location of the find a secret. There were dinosaurs in t h e m thar hills. Marsh then published a paper on a new dinosaur, Titanosaurus montanus,

"giant m o u n t a i n reptile." (After learning that

this n a m e had already been used to describe a d i n o s a u r found in India, Marsh changed the n a m e to Atlantosaurus, "Atlas reptile.") W h e n he learned that Lakes had also written Cope, Marsh sent his chief field collector to C o l o r a d o to make a deal with the teacher. Lakes subsequently wrote Cope and asked h i m to forward to Marsh the bones Lakes had previously sent to Philadelphia. Cope was angry at being bested by his rival, b u t he acquiesced. Marsh n a m e d these bones Apatosaurus ajax ("deceptive reptile"). Soon the tables were t u r n e d . Cope received specimens from another teacher/collector in Colorado, O. W. Lucas. C o p e identified t h e m as the bones of a different dinosaur, an herbivore far m o r e spectacular than that found by Lakes. He n a m e d it Camarasaurus ("chambered reptile"). C o p e p r o m p t l y hired Lucas, w h o found other i m p o r t a n t remains for h i m . Hearing of this, Marsh sent his o w n people to the site to look for dinosaurs a n d w o o Lucas to their c a m p . T h e y failed to recruit Lucas b u t did find several excellent d i n o s a u r skeletons at nearby Felch Quarry. In July 1877, M a r s h received the following letter from Laramie, Wyoming: I write to a n n o u n c e you of the discovery . . . of a large n u m b e r of fossils, supposed to be those of M e g a t h e r i u m , although there is no o n e here sufficient of a geologist to state for a certainty. . . . We are desirous of disposing of what fossils we have, and also the secret of the others. We are working m e n and not able to present t h e m as a gift, and if we can sell the secret of the fossil bed a n d secure work in excavating others we would like to do so. After a description of the b o n e s , the letter concluded: "We would be pleased to hear from you, as you are well k n o w n as an enthusiastic geologist a n d a m a n of m e a n s , b o t h of which we are enthusiastic of findi n g — m o r e especially the latter."

WHO

OWNS

SUE?

97

T h e signers of the letter, w h o identified themselves as " H a r l o w a n d Edwards," sent a few fossil samples in g o o d faith. Realizing t h a t these were d i n o s a u r b o n e s , M a r s h sent t h e w e s t e r n e r s a check for $75 a n d asked t h e m to keep digging. In a s e c o n d letter, " H a r l o w a n d Edwards," w h o t u r n e d o u t t o b e railroad m e n n a m e d Reed a n d Carlin, n o t e d that there were o t h e r s in the area l o o k i n g for b o n e s . W o r r i e d a b o u t losing o u t on the find, M a r s h d i s p a t c h e d an emissary, Samuel Williston, to check o u t the site. Williston r e p o r t e d t h a t this site, k n o w n as C o m o Bluff, was far s u p e r i o r to the C o l o r a d o sites discovered by Lakes a n d Lucas. T h e b o n e s , he w r o t e , "extend for seven miles & are by the ton." Marsh quickly p u t Reed a n d Carlin on his payroll a n d sent t h e m a contract u n d e r which they agreed to "take all reasonable precautions to keep all other collectors n o t authorized by Prof. Marsh o u t of the region." In the first year, Marsh's forces excavated approximately 30 tons of dinosaur bones. T h e professor quickly wrote a paper describing a n d n a m i n g for the first time such dinosaurs as the plated Stegosaurus ("roof reptile"), the carnivorous Allosaurus, a n d Nanosaurus ("dwarf reptile"), which was only 2 to 4 feet long. Cope, of course, wanted to enter this fertile region. He sent spies to see what was going on a n d then traveled there himself. At a b o u t this time, Carlin and Reed had a disagreement a n d parted company. Carlin opened up his o w n q u a r r y a n d sent his finds to Cope. Over the next ten years, the W y o m i n g fossil rush was as exciting if not quite as lucrative as the California gold rush had been 30 years earlier. Marsh a n d Cope c o n t i n u e d to m i n e C o m o Bluff a n d other fossil fields in the region for dinosaurs. T h e y apparently t h o u g h t n o t h i n g of spying, bribing, intimidating, a n d stealing each other's employees. W h e n Marsh's m a n Reed finished digging at a site, he destroyed all remaining bones so that Carlin could n o t c o m e in a n d ship t h e m to Cope. W h o won? Marsh's collectors uncovered 26 new species of dinosaurs at C o m o Bluff alone. Cope found only a handful of species at the Wyoming site, but he was m o r e successful than Marsh in Colorado. For the record, over their lifetimes Marsh described 75 new dinosaur species to Cope's 55. In his comprehensive chronicle of the Cope/Marsh feud, The Bonehunters' Revenge, David Rains Wallace notes that 19 of Marsh's

98

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

descriptions a n d 9 of Cope's descriptions are considered valid today. C o p e described fewer dinosaur genera t h a n Marsh, b u t he described 1282 genera or species of N o r t h American fossil vertebrates, while his rival described 536. Science was the t r u e winner. T h e Cope a n d Marsh forces introduced m o r e t h a n n e w species. They i n t r o d u c e d new m e t h o d s of paleontological exploration a n d excavation. Despite the inexcusable destruction of fossils, the western collectors were also responsible for developing techniques for preserving a n d shipping bones that are still used today. The papers C o p e a n d Marsh published formed the b a c k b o n e of the study of vertebrate paleontology as the c e n t u r y t u r n e d . T h e skeletons their m e n found remain on display in m a n y m u s e u m s a r o u n d the world. Reed, for example, u n e a r t h e d a nearly complete Apatosaurus—the correct generic n a m e for what m o s t people k n o w as the b r o n t o s a u r u s . It remains a major exhibit at Yale's Peabody M u s e u m . Sadly, success in the field did not b r i n g an e n d to Cope vs. Marsh. In the 1880s, C o p e lost m o s t of his m o n e y by investing foolishly in silver mines. Short of funds, he was unable to collect fossils or finish m a n y publications. Meanwhile, Marsh, over Cope's objection, was elected president of the National Academy of Sciences. T h e professor was also n a m e d vertebrate paleontologist to the U.S. Geological Survey, a position that assured h i m of funds to c o n t i n u e h u n t i n g for bones. Already reeling from his o w n misfortune a n d Marsh's good fortune, C o p e suffered a k n o c k o u t p u n c h w h e n the D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior d e m a n d e d that he t u r n over everything he h a d collected while surveying for the g o v e r n m e n t to the U.S. National M u s e u m . Cope, w h o had been an u n p a i d volunteer on m a n y surveying expeditions, had assumed that his finds belonged to h i m . He sensed that Marsh had orchestrated this u n w a r r a n t e d action. On his way d o w n , C o p e took o n e last swing at his longtime n e m e sis. Williston a n d others employed by Marsh had long complained that the professor had taken credit for m u c h of their work. Cope fed this information to a friend at the New York Herald. In 1890, the paper ran a lengthy story d a m n i n g Marsh. T h e b a d publicity eventually led to a reduction of funding for the Geological Survey a n d Marsh's resignation from his post there. As expected, Marsh struck back. T h e Herald p u b lished his rebuttal to Cope's charges, in which he recounted the 21 -year-

WHO

OWNS

SUE?

99

old story of the Elasmosaurus a n d charged that C o p e had once broken o p e n crates of fossils that belonged to h i m . Broken financially, C o p e s u p p o r t e d himself by taking a professorship at the University of Pennsylvania a n d selling m a n y of his r e m a i n ing fossils to the American M u s e u m of Natural History in 1895 for $32,000. He died in 1897 at the age of 57. Most of Marsh's finds remain at the Peabody M u s e u m . T h e specim e n s he collected with U.S. Geological Survey m o n i e s went to the Smithsonian. He died in 1899 at the age of 67. Each m a n did receive an i m p o r t a n t h o n o r shortly before his death. In 1895, Cope was elected president of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. In 1897, Marsh received the Cuvier Prize, the highest award in his field. T h e French Academy presented this h o n o r every three years. Marsh was only the third American recipient, following Louis Agassiz a n d Joseph Leidy. Edwin Drinker C o p e is o n e of Peter Larson's heroes. Unlike Marsh, w h o was affiliated with a n d funded by a university and the g o v e r n m e n t , Cope was an i n d e p e n d e n t contractor w h o bankrolled his o w n o p e r a tions. Although he might be defined today as a commercial collector, he was first a n d foremost a brilliant scholar. " H e was a little guy fighting the greater powers, the underdog," Larson says. Larson notes that he a n d C o p e h a d s o m e t h i n g else in c o m m o n besides funding their o w n projects a n d working w i t h o u t institutional attachment. In 1889, the federal g o v e r n m e n t h a d d e m a n d e d m a n y of the prize fossils C o p e h a d collected over the years. In 1992, history seemed to be repeating itself with the government's seizure of Sue. By the t i m e the Eighth Circuit heard oral a r g u m e n t s in St. Paul on October 14—five m o n t h s to the day after the seizure—Larson clearly felt he was the u n d e r d o g . T h e institute h a d r u n up over $100,000 in legal fees trying to get Sue back. Business h a d also suffered. M a n y old clients a n d prospective clients were keeping their distance, waiting to see how the courts decided the matter. On November 2, the Eighth Circuit a n n o u n c e d its decision. Referring to Judge Battey's three-day hearing to determine t e m p o r a r y custody of Sue, Judge Magill wrote: "Not unlike the dinosaur in size, this hearing built up 628 pages of transcript, with 14 witnesses, and 114 exhibits." He

100

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

then noted that existing case law required the Eighth Circuit to give Judge Battey's analysis of the testimony the benefit of the doubt, unless he m a d e s o m e obvious mistake. Were Judge Battey's findings clearly erroneous? No, said Magill. Therefore: "We affirm the district court's order n a m i n g the South Dakota School of Mines a n d Technology as custodian of the fossil . . . a n d r e m a n d for further proceedings on the merits." Sue would stay where she was until Judge Battey ruled on the institute's lawsuit asking for a d e t e r m i n a t i o n of w h o had the superior possessory interest in the b o n e s , the institute or the g o v e r n m e n t . Larson was again devastated. Sue would be spending the winter inside a storage container inside a m a c h i n e s h o p inside a garage—like s o m e precious Faberge egg within a n o t h e r egg. After 21 m o n t h s of t o u c h i n g Sue a n d talking to her, Larson h a d put flesh on her bones, b r o u g h t her back to life. She was no longer a fossil to h i m . She was a living being sharing the stories of her past, the most intimate details of her existence. Their relationship transcended the physical; it was spiritual as well. Now, b o t h her b o d y a n d her soul were in jeopardy. And all he could do was stand outside the garage a n d tell her that everything would be all right. Duffy reacted to the decision in lawyerly fashion, referring to Sue as "it" instead of by her given n a m e . "[The] ruling affects only the t e m p o rary custody issue," he told the press. "I am disappointed that for the winter it will be kept in an u n h e a t e d garage, b u t the bulk of the case remains before us." He a d d e d that he had confidence in the jurist w h o h a d to date ruled against the institute at virtually every t u r n . "The case will require a lot of study a n d h a r d work, a n d Judge Battey is very good with difficult legal issues," he said. There was no need for Schieffer to spin or flatter. T h e Eighth Circuit h a d given h i m everything he wanted. "Obviously we were pleased with the decision," he said. "I w o u l d like to claim it was because of some brilliant lawyering, b u t the facts were pretty straightforward." T h e Cheyenne River Sioux tribe also expressed satisfaction with the court's decision. "This will be helpful to us," Steve Emery, the tribal a t t o r n e y general, told Indian Country Today. He added that the tribe p l a n n e d to file an action for Sue in tribal court in the near future. "If the

WHO

OWNS

SUE?

101

tribe is able to vindicate all its interests, the fossil would likely b e c o m e the focal point of a tribal m u s e u m . " Pat Leiggi had agreed to help train the tribe in the curation of fossils. On the day following the decision, U.S. voters elected William Jefferson Clinton the nation's forty-second president. By chance, that same day, Casey C a r m o d y , the Seattle mineral a n d fossil dealer w h o was friendly with H e n d r i c k s o n , received a letter from Clinton. Weeks earlier, C a r m o d y had been invited to participate in a televised "town meeting" with Clinton, the candidate. She had told h i m a b o u t Sue on the air and said she felt the g o v e r n m e n t had abused its seizure laws. After the meeting, Clinton h a d m a d e a point of talking to her. She h a d then sent him material a b o u t the case. In his letter to Carmody, Clinton wrote: " T h e information you sent me regarding the seizure of fossils a n d records pertaining to 'Sue' seems t h o r o u g h a n d insightful. D u e to the increasing d e m a n d s of my schedule, I've asked my staff to review it." Neither C a r m o d y n o r the institute interpreted this letter as an e n d o r s e m e n t of their position, but they did see positive ramifications in his ascension to the presidency. Clinton, like every president w h o had preceded him, would soon install people of his o w n liking in m a n y appointive positions, such as U.S. attorney. Schieffer, a Republican appointee, was already on shaky g r o u n d . T h e Senate had never confirmed him; he was still the acting U.S. attorney. He was a p r i m e candidate to be replaced by the new Democratic a d m i n i s t r a t i o n . No o n e could predict h o w a new U.S. attorney would handle this case on inheriting it. But the institute's chances of reaching a " c o m m o n u n d e r s t a n d i n g " with the g o v e r n m e n t would u n d o u b t e d l y be better with a different prosecutor. Some observers felt that Schieffer had backed himself into a corner with his d r a m a t i c raid a n d subsequent public statements and that the only way he could save face and prove the editorial writers and the protesters w r o n g was by w i n n i n g p e r m a n e n t custody of Sue and indicting the Larsons, not by settling the matter. Schieffer offers a different explanation: that the law s u p p o r t e d his position that the institute had no claim to Sue. "It was a no-brainer," he says. As for the criminal case, it would be up to the grand j u r y to determine whether indictments were w a r r a n t e d .

102

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

W i t h the clock r u n n i n g o u t on his tenure, Schieffer wanted nothing m o r e t h a n to end the m a t t e r quickly. "We can hopefully proceed in a straightforward m a n n e r a n d let it be resolved by the legal process, where it rightfully belongs," he said following the ruling. In an effort to effect a swift resolution on the institute's original lawsuit to d e t e r m i n e w h o had the s u p e r i o r possessory claim, Schieffer h a d filed a m o t i o n for s u m m a r y j u d g m e n t on O c t o b e r 28. Such a m o t i o n is based on a party's assertion that there is no genuine issue as to any material (or, essential) fact in the case. Therefore, there is no need for a trial before a j u r y to elicit any facts. Instead, the judge can r e n d e r a final decision based solely on the applicable case law a n d statutes. W h a t were these indisputable material facts in Black Hills Institute (Plaintiff)

v.

The

United

States

of America,

Department

of Justice

(Defendant) . According to the g o v e r n m e n t : 7

1.

T h e subject of plaintiffs' claim is a fossilized skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus rex approximately 65 million years old.

2.

T h e land from which the fossil was taken is Indian trust land within the exterior b o u n d a r i e s of the Cheyenne River Sioux R e s e r v a t i o n . . . .

3. 4.

Title to the above land is held by the United States. In 1969, Maurice A. Williams received a beneficial interest in the above land by virtue of a d o c u m e n t which on its face states "That the U N I T E D STATES O F AMERICA . . . hereby declares that it does a n d will h o l d the land above described (subject to all statutory provisions and restrictions). . . . " [Translation: the g o v e r n m e n t was holding the land in trust for Williams.]

5.

T h e fossil at issue in this case was removed by plaintiffs w i t h o u t the knowledge or consent of the United States.

In a brief s u p p o r t i n g this m o t i o n , Schieffer presented the cases and statutes that, he argued, w a r r a n t e d s u m m a r y j u d g m e n t in the government's favor.

WHO

OWNS

SUE?

103

Confronted with a m o t i o n for s u m m a r y j u d g m e n t , an o p p o s i n g party has two choices. It can argue that there are material facts in dispute and that therefore the m o t i o n m u s t be dismissed a n d the trial should go forward. Or, it can make its o w n m o t i o n for s u m m a r y j u d g ment—agreeing that there are no facts in dispute, b u t arguing that the case law and statutes s u p p o r t a decision in its favor. T h e institute chose this second alternative. After disagreeing on virtually everything for six m o n t h s , the institute a n d the g o v e r n m e n t were n o w saying that they agreed on the underlying facts of the case. Judge Battey would n o t have to hold a trial or hearing to d e t e r m i n e the facts. He could simply read each party's brief and listen to each one's a r g u m e n t explaining why it was entitled to victory based on the cases a n d statutes it cited. Or could he? "Rancher Stakes His Claim to Sue" said the headline in the December 2 Rapid City Journal. "Just when you t h o u g h t you u n d e r stood the case of the Tyrannosaurus rex n a m e d Sue, along comes Maurice Williams, w h o n o w says the famous fossil belongs to him," began reporter Harlan's story. Williams had r e m a i n e d on the sidelines while the government, the Sioux, a n d the institute h a d wrangled over custody of the dinosaur found on his p r o p e r t y almost two a n d a half years earlier. Now, o n e day after the institute h a d filed its o w n m o t i o n for s u m m a r y j u d g m e n t , he a t t e m p t e d to enter the case. He went to Judge Battey's court seeking leave to file a "friend of the c o u r t " brief. The gist of the brief was simple: Williams claimed that h e — n o t the government, not the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe, not the institute—was "the current, legal owner of the Tyrannosaurus rex n a m e d Sue." In the brief he asserted that the institute had "hoodwinked" him out of a fossil "worth millions of dollars." He explained that he had accepted the $5000 check from the institute "as payment for egress to and waste committed on his trust land in the excavation of Sue," not for the fossil itself. In an apparent contradiction to his c o m m e n t s on the videotape, he claimed that he allowed the institute to remove Sue only to clean and prepare her for a later sale. In a later interview, Williams reaffirmed these arguments. "I thought [the institute] knew at the time a check isn't a contract," he said. Williams further asserted that the trustee of his land, the U.S. gove r n m e n t , had "breached its fiduciary d u t y " to h i m by claiming the fossil for itself instead of protecting his interest in it. T h e Antiquities Act of

104

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

1906 did not allow the federal g o v e r n m e n t to take possessory interest in fossils found on Indian lands, he argued. W h a t did Williams want from Judge Battey? In his brief he argued that ownership of the fossil could n o t be d e t e r m i n e d w i t h o u t a full trial a n d his (Williams's) participation. Therefore, he said, the judge must deny b o t h the institute's a n d the government's m o t i o n s for s u m m a r y judgment. Williams's eleventh-hour o w n e r s h i p claim inspired D o n Gerken, a columnist for the Hill City Prevailer. Tongue firmly in cheek, he invited his readers to join the fray in a "Stake Your Claim to Sue!" contest. "You t o o can file your claim for ownership of Sue," wrote the columnist. "It's fun!!! It's easy!!!" He t h e n asked readers to state why they deserved the dinosaur. A m o n g the choices he offered were: "I once saw the fossil," " I ' m related to Sue," "I voted Republican in the last election," "I'm a minority," "I'm n o t a minority," a n d "I need the bucks." A few weeks later, those actually claiming Sue played: "I think Sue is mine because . . . " on national television. "It m a y be the custody battle of the century," intoned a n c h o r Sam Donaldson of ABC News's Primetime Live. "Scientists, Indians, the U.S. government—they're all trying to lay claim to a b u n c h of old bones. Well, not just any old bones . . . " On camera, c o r r e s p o n d e n t Sylvia Chase asked the same question of four grown m e n . Chase:

W h o owns Sue?

Maurice Williams:

If the laws of the land m e a n anything, I own it.

Gregg Bourland:

We believe we do, the C h e y e n n e River Sioux tribe.

Kevin Schieffer:

T h e public owns Sue.

Peter Larson:

T h e Black Hills M u s e u m of Natural History Foundation.

These q u a d r a p h o n i c "I do's" b r o u g h t to m i n d four children squabbling over the last piece of pie, each child intractable. Chase asked Williams why he claimed ownership. "Isn't it the money?' 'It's always the money," said Williams.

WHO

OWNS

SUE?

105

It wasn't the m o n e y that had motivated the g o v e r n m e n t to seize Sue. Schieffer had secured that initial search w a r r a n t in May, in large part by persuading Judge Battey that there was probable cause that the institute had taken the fossil in violation of the Antiquities Act. For eight m o n t h s he had c o n t i n u e d to invoke the act w h e n explaining to the p u b lic why he seized the dinosaur. He h a d also presented the institute's violation of the act as the p r i m a r y of two theories in s u p p o r t of his m o t i o n for s u m m a r y j u d g m e n t in the case for o w n e r s h i p before Judge Battey. Was the Antiquities Act applicable to fossils? In 1974, Dr. Farish Jenkins, a respected H a r v a r d paleontologist, was arrested a n d charged with a federal crime u n d e r the act because he "did appropriate, excavate, injure, or destroy a historic or prehistoric relic or m o n u m e n t , or an object of antiquity situated on lands owned or controlled by the G o v e r n m e n t of the United States." T h e "objects of antiquity" in this instance were fossils. Jenkins replied that he hadn't k n o w n he was on federal land d u r i n g a collecting expedition in M o n t a n a . He had, he said, inadvertently crossed an u n m a r k e d b o u n d a r y o n t o Bureau of Land M a n a g e m e n t property. Academic and commercial collectors alike could sympathize. T h e b o u n d a r i e s between private a n d public lands were often u n m a r k e d , and m a p s were often outdated or difficult to read. But Jenkins went beyond claiming ignorance. He challenged the constitutionality of the Antiquities Act. In doing so, he cited a previous case involving Native American masks in which the N i n t h Circuit C o u r t of Appeals had held the act "fatally vague" after the defendants h a d raised the constitutionality question. T h e district c o u r t j u d g e in M o n t a n a agreed with Jenkins a n d dismissed the charges. Until the seizure of Sue 16 years later, United States of America v. Farish Jenkins was the only reported case in the 86-year history of the act involving fossils rather than h u m a n artifacts such as Indian relics a n d , occasionally, shipwrecks on s u b m e r g e d federal land. In the absence of previous cases in which the act had been applied to fossils, h o w could Schieffer go before a federal judge a n d request a search w a r r a n t based on the institute's violations of the act? A n d h o w could he argue that the institute had no right to Sue because the act did n o t recognize private ownership of fossils excavated a n d removed from lands o w n e d or controlled by the United States?

106

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

In fairness to Schieffer, the request for the search warrant cited violations of two other federal statutes in addition to the Antiquities Act. Still, in his public statements a n d in his brief s u p p o r t i n g his m o t i o n for s u m m a r y j u d g m e n t in the case before Judge Battey, the U.S. attorney appeared to rely principally on the act. In the brief, Schieffer cited a 1956 D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior m e m o r a n d u m . T h e m e m o r a n d u m acknowledged that the Antiquities Act didn't specifically refer to fossils but reasoned that the government's long-term practice of granting permits for fossil collecting created "a strong p r e s u m p t i o n of the validity of the practice." As a result, the m e m o r a n d u m concluded that the official position of the D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior was that fossils were covered by the act. If the Interior D e p a r t m e n t had remained silent on this question after 1956, Schieffer would have had a point. But the d e p a r t m e n t had been loud a n d clear in recent years, said Duffy in his brief s u p p o r t i n g the institute's o w n m o t i o n for s u m m a r y j u d g m e n t . Duffy cited D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior m e m o r a n d a from 1977 a n d 1986 that reversed the 1956 opinion. The 1986 m e m o r a n d u m had stated that "analysis in these terms would also lead to the conclusion that paleontological fossil specimens were not to be included u n d e r the sections of the act establishing permit procedures and penalty provisions." Schieffer had not mentioned this or the 1977 m e m o r a n d u m . Shortly after Duffy filed this brief a n d Williams filed his m o t i o n to enter the case as a friend of the court, Schieffer d r o p p e d a bombshell. " T h e United States will no longer rely on the Antiquities Act," he told the court in a brief r e s p o n d i n g to Williams's m o t i o n . Duffy was furious. "T. rex Fossil Finders Say G o v e r n m e n t Lied" ran the front-page headline in the Journal. Duffy told the paper that the government had k n o w n for 15 years— since its own 1977 m e m o r a n d u m — t h a t the Antiquities Act was designed to prevent the collection of artifacts, not fossils, from federal property. T h e U.S. attorney had obtained the warrant to seize Sue u n d e r false pretenses, said Duffy. " T h e basis for the seizure, or for continued holding of the dinosaur, no longer exists." Sue, Duffy said, should be returned to the institute.

6

IS A D I N O S A U R "LAND"?

"Three million four hundred thousand." A faint smile crossed Maurice Williams's weathered face. This was all about money. He had been uncertain how much the T. rex would command. Now he had a good sense of her worth. "It's kind of like trading horses, isn't it?" the rancher would say later. "The true value is what you can get out of it." Maurice Williams was n o t naive. He was 66 years old w h e n Sue was found. He held a college degree in animal sciences. He h a d once worked for the Bureau of Indian Affairs. According to unofficial reports, he owned m o r e than 35,000 acres of land. T h o s e w h o knew h i m said he was a tough businessman. Williams had waited until the institute, the g o v e r n m e n t , a n d his o w n Cheyenne River Sioux tribe were into the h o m e stretch before making his move. His m o t i o n to enter the case as a friend of the court, not Duffy's citation of the two D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior m e m o r a n d a , caused Schieffer to alter his strategy. "To [rely on the act] could conceivably prejudice Williams a n d require that he be allowed to intervene as an indispensable party," Schieffer wrote. Such intervention would raise n u m e r o u s factual questions a n d necessitate a lengthy trial rather than a ruling based on the m o t i o n s for s u m m a r y j u d g m e n t , the U.S. attorney knew. And such a trial might result in the d e t e r m i n a t i o n that Williams, not the g o v e r n m e n t , o w n e d Sue.

108

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

In d r o p p i n g the Antiquities Act a r g u m e n t , Schieffer was not dropping his claim that "the fossil is p r o p e r t y of the United States. Period." In his m o t i o n for s u m m a r y j u d g m e n t , he had offered an "alternative" argum e n t : Sue was land—real p r o p e r t y — h e asserted. T h u s , the basic principles of real p r o p e r t y law a n d Indian trust law m u s t be applied. U n d e r this alternative a p p r o a c h . . . Maurice Williams . . . h a d no a u t h o r i t y to unilaterally sell or convey the trust land or any objects e m b e d d e d in it w i t h o u t the knowledge a n d consent of the U.S. "Absolutely preposterous," Williams told the Indian Country Today. "If the government's position was followed to its logical conclusion, the g o v e r n m e n t would also o w n all the timber, grass, oil, gravel, coal, and o t h e r minerals on trust land." T h e g o v e r n m e n t had never previously claimed such rights. Indeed, Williams had sold oil rights on his property to A m o c o . Williams had equally harsh words for the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe, which was still asserting ownership and threatening to bring action in tribal court. "I don't k n o w what this world is coming to," said the rancher. " T h e tribe is supposed to be protecting m e . It has many, m a n y fossils of its own on its own lands. Yet the tribal attorneys are exerting an extraordinary a m o u n t of time a n d energy trying to steal my fossil." Williams's enemies list didn't stop with the tribe. He went on to criticize the United States Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA). He said he had repeatedly asked the BIA to provide h i m with an attorney to represent his interests in the case. "Why can't the responsible federal officials r e s p o n d properly to my repeated requests for justice and direction out here in Indian country?" he asked. " T h e g o v e r n m e n t would have a m u c h stronger case against the Larsons if its officials would do the right thing by acting as my trustee a n d protecting my p r o p e r t y interests." This criticism called to m i n d an episode involving the BIA, the Sioux, and Othniel C. Marsh over 100 years earlier. In 1874, Marsh was busy with the construction of the Peabody M u s e u m at Yale, but he could not resist the invitation of U.S. Army officers to h u n t for fossils in the Badlands near the Black Hills. He arrived out West during a time of great tension. The Oglala Sioux felt that the federal government had violated an 1868 treaty.

IS

A

DINOSAUR

"LAND"?

109

This treaty had ended a war between the U.S. A r m y a n d the tribe, led by its fearless chief Red Cloud. It gave the Sioux, as a " p e r m a n e n t reservation," all of what is now South Dakota west of the Missouri River. Under the agreement, no white m a n could settle on the land or even pass through without the permission of the Sioux. In return, Red Cloud swore that he would never again wage war against the whites. Red Cloud had kept his promise, despite pressure from the m o r e militant m e m b e r s of his tribe, Sitting Bull a n d Crazy Horse. T h e United States, however, had reneged. In 1871, the g o v e r n m e n t a n n o u n c e d that the N o r t h e r n Pacific Railroad would r u n t h r o u g h the land in question. Then, in the s u m m e r of 1874, a few m o n t h s before Marsh arrived, General George A r m s t r o n g Custer led 1000 m e n to the Black Hills. They weren't looking for Indians. "Veins of gold-bearing quartz crop o u t on almost every hillside," Custer reported. T h e Sioux knew that a gold rush would bring in settlers. Feeling betrayed once again, they refused to cooperate with the U.S. Indian agent at the reservation a n d threatened trouble. T h e c o r r u p t agent exacerbated the hostilities by cheating the tribe of promised provisions. He dispensed rotten meat a n d threadbare blankets In The Dinosaur Hunters, Plate writes that despite the warnings of frontiersmen to stay away from the reservation, "Marsh s t u b b o r n l y p r o ceeded . . . a n d set up c a m p in the midst of 12,000 surly Indians." O n c e established, he sought permission to enter the Badlands to search for bones. Red C l o u d was suspicious. Marsh, he reasoned (inaccurately), was interested in finding gold, not fossils. W h e n the chief balked, Marsh proposed a deal: If Red C l o u d would help h i m get fossils, he would take Red Cloud's complaints a b o u t the agent a n d other fraudulent governm e n t practices back to Washington, D.C. Red C l o u d agreed. T h e chief assigned Sitting Bull to take Marsh a n d his m e n into the Badlands. After a snowfall delayed the journey, the Sioux had a change of heart. They had received word that two angry tribes, the Miniconjous and H u n k p a p a s , lay in wait for the expedition. Marsh's friends in the army also cautioned against the trip. Marsh wouldn't quit. H o p i n g to persuade the tribe to reconsider its decision, he held a grand feast. After the meal, Red C l o u d relented. He assigned his nephew Sword to escort the party. But again fearing the Miniconjous, the Sioux refused to go.

110

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

U n d a u n t e d , Marsh a n d his m e n went gently into the night while the Sioux slept. T h e unescorted party reached the Badlands safely. There they found m a n y excellent fossils. Red Cloud did order his m e n to stand guard on the buttes above the fossil hunters. W h e n the chief learned that the Miniconjous were planning to attack, he sent word that Marsh should leave immediately. Marsh refused. A hasty exit would necessitate abandoning his haul of fossils. The professor insisted on spending o n e m o r e day at the site to pack the bones safely for the trip back east. He and his m e n finally left only hours before a Miniconjous war party reached the spot where they had camped. Marsh kept his promise to Red C l o u d a n d went to Washington w h e n he r e t u r n e d h o m e . By this time the Sioux were facing starvation. T h e g o v e r n m e n t rations were b o t h insufficient and inedible. T h e c o r r u p t a d m i n i s t r a t i o n of President Ulysses S. Grant showed little interest in Marsh's report. T h e professor persisted. He pressed his case in the media, revealing ten major g o v e r n m e n t frauds, including kickbacks to contractors. T h e administration and those businessmen benefiting from the fraud responded by personally attacking Marsh. He was, they said, seeking fame, or he had been bribed, or he was just plain crazy. Remarkably, after several m o n t h s , Marsh prevailed. T h e Secretary of the Interior, the head of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, a n d the agent on the reservation all resigned or were fired. Plate reports that Marsh's triu m p h m a d e Red Cloud his friend for life. T h e Sioux chief sent Marsh a peace pipe and wrote: "I t h o u g h t he would do like all white m e n , and forget me w h e n he went away. But he did not. He told the Great Father everything just as he promised he would, and I think he is the best white m a n I ever saw." Now, a c e n t u r y a n d a q u a r t e r later, Williams was willing to put his fate in the U.S. attorney's h a n d s . After finally getting his audience, via telephone, with the Interior D e p a r t m e n t , Williams decided not to intervene in the case because, he said, "my interests would be adequately p r o tected in the lawsuit by the U.S. government." Schieffer, however, never publicly stated that he was representing Williams's interests. T h e Larsons k n e w exactly where they stood with the U.S. attorney. By the middle of January, the two brothers, p a r t n e r Bob Farrar, chief

IS

A

DINOSAUR

"LAND"?

I l l

preparator Terry Wentz, administrative assistant M a r i o n Zenker, curator David B u r n h a m , a n d three other institute workers had been s u b poenaed to appear before the grand jury. On January 19, the "Institute 9" traveled to Rapid City. T h e Larsons, Farrar, and W e n t z — t h e four from the institute a s s u m e d to be u n d e r investigation—were asked only for h a n d w r i t i n g samples, n o t personal testimony. Afterward Duffy c o m p l a i n e d that all those s u b p o e n a e d h a d been harassed, intimidated, a n d treated shoddily. "It's like Bosnian jurisprudence," he said. Some had to sit on the floor of the waiting r o o m , which had only three chairs, he said. All, even those w h o testified early in the m o r n i n g , were forbidden to leave until 6:30 P M . B u r n h a m said that the assistant U.S. attorney questioning h i m "screamed a n d yelled at me." He added: "I d o n ' t even k n o w why I was there except to be abused a n d harassed." Ron Banks, an attorney representing some of those testifying, c o n c u r r e d . "It's deplorable the way they treat witnesses," he told the Journal. In a letter to the paper, Schieffer said that attorneys w h o truly believed that their clients' rights were being violated had instant access to the federal court to stop such abuse. N o n e had d o n e so. He denied the charges of harassment a n d d e m a n d e d that the paper apologize for p u b lishing reports of intimidation. Before the m o n t h was over, the g o v e r n m e n t once again s u b p o e n a e d institute records. Peter Larson said that the s u b p o e n a required the institute to t u r n over almost everything b u t e q u i p m e n t a n d fossils—virtually all remaining business records, field notes, videotapes, a n d p h o tographs. Sixty-four general a n d specific items were requested, including d o c u m e n t s related to 20 tons of fossils collected in Peru. Larson suggested that the broad d e m a n d required h i m to send the g o v e r n m e n t even the 33-year-old picture of h i m a n d Neal in front of their " m u s e um." He posed for the Journal holding the p h o t o . T h e institute had 24 h o u r s to comply with the request. D u r i n g the same week that this s u b p o e n a was served, six FBI agents arrived at the institute with a court order authorizing t h e m to p h o t o graph m o r e t h a n 100 different fossil specimens. " D u r i n g the agents' v i s i t . . . local residents reportedly refused to offer [the] agents coffee or even allow t h e m to use private b a t h r o o m facilities because of their ris-

112

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

ing level of anger at the federal government's handling o f . .. the case," noted the local Tribune/News. Following the subpoenas a n d the grand j u r y appearances, a newly established citizens' organization in the Hill City area, the Government Accountability G r o u p (GAG), sent a petition to the U.S. D e p a r t m e n t of Justice a n d the Senate Judiciary C o m m i t t e e . T h e petition sought i m m e diate investigation into alleged violations of the Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, and Fourteenth A m e n d m e n t s by Schieffer, Zuercher, a n d FBI Agent Asbury in their "conspiracy of h a r a s s m e n t " against the institute. Charging Schieffer a n d Zuercher with malpractice a n d malfeasance, GAG also sought d i s b a r m e n t hearings of the pair. Finally, the petition also asked the newly inaugurated President Clinton to replace Schieffer with an interim U.S. attorney a n d to issue "an executive order to cease and desist in this merciless a n d vindictive persecution." A second executive order to r e t u r n the subpoenaed d o c u m e n t s a n d specimens was also requested. Travis Opdyke, a writer a n d former FBI employee, wrote the petition. He explained that he h a d been m o v e d by "the t r e m e n d o u s a m o u n t of anger" engendered in the c o m m u n i t y by the government's actions. O p d y k e was m a r r i e d to the institute's M a r i o n Zenker. Experienced criminal defense attorneys don't like to second guess their fellow practitioners. However, m a n y will say that during an investigation they endeavor to maintain a cordial, civil relationship with the prosecutors w h o have the power to indict their clients. The rancorous relations between the U.S. attorney's office a n d the institute and its lawyers and supp o r t e r s — n o matter whose fault—had the potential to sabotage future attempts by Duffy to, if necessary, make a deal in the criminal case with Schieffer that might benefit the Larsons. "Pat Duffy is a smart guy," Colbath would later say. "But if you're going to use tactics like his—making your witness a martyr in the press—you need a whole apparatus, a public relations machine, behind you. Sometimes when you're trying to make a client into a martyr, the government is all too willing to help." Duffy's c u r r i c u l u m vitae suggested that he was indeed "a smart guy." T h e son of a lawyer, he was b o r n in 1956 and raised in Ft. Pierre, South Dakota. Although Duffy always knew he wanted to be a lawyer, he had been counseled by his father to get real-life experience before entering the profession. Taking the advice to heart, he enlisted in the U.S. Navy after high school. After receiving training in Russian, he was given the

IS

A

DINOSAUR

"LAND"?

113

o p p o r t u n i t y to enroll at the U.S. Naval Academy. He did enroll, b u t two years later he quit, returned h o m e , a n d married. He eventually received his undergraduate degree from South Dakota State University. Still not ready for law school, he worked as a stockbroker for several years. Duffy finally entered the University of South Dakota Law School in 1983. There he served as editor-in-chief of the law review. After g r a d u ating in 1986, he went into private practice d o i n g b o t h civil a n d criminal trial work. He represented the institute for the first t i m e soon after graduation. Larson came to h i m after receiving a s u b p o e n a for the d o c u m e n t s related to the government's W y o m i n g fossil investigation. Never o n e to m i n c e words, Duffy h a d confronted Schieffer s o o n after the seizure. "I said, 'You asshole. You lied to me,'" Duffy recalls, referring to Schieffer's prior assurance that no raid was i m m i n e n t (an assurance Schieffer says he never m a d e ) . Schieffer told h i m that such a response was necessary to "preserve the integrity of the operation," r e m e m b e r s an incredulous Duffy, w h o adds, "That's like the stuff we heard from Vietnam: 'We destroyed the village in order to save it.'" Duffy told Schieffer that the raid was totally unnecessary. "If Kevin had just called me a n d said, 'Let's litigate,' I'd have p r o m i s e d [that Sue would be kept safe]," he said m a n y years later. Duffy knew he was taking a risk in playing the case o u t in the press. "In m a n y cases I don't say a thing," he says. "But [here] my media presence was absolutely necessary. W h e n Schieffer lied to me and showed up in pancake m a k e u p , I knew this wasn't like dealing with a real lawyer. I had to fight back. This was [Schieffer's] publicity platform for a judgeship or his r u n for the Senate. He was writing o p - e d pieces. I had to keep the t e m p e r a t u r e of the b o d y politic such that we could get a fair trial." Bob Chicoinne, a p r o m i n e n t Seattle attorney w h o also represented Hendrickson, questions Duffy's strategy. "Being aggressive with the other side is o n e thing," he says. "But once it becomes personal, that's the worst thing. You are dealing with prosecutors w h o have an i m m e n s e a m o u n t of power. It's bad e n o u g h to piss off an assistant U.S. attorney, but to piss off the U.S. attorney himself is crazy." In Chicoinne's opinion, the most effective lawyers keep themselves out of the spotlight and certainly don't shine it in the eyes of those w h o may decide their client's fate. "Prosecutors and judges are h u m a n , too," says Chicoinne. "They don't like to have their integrity questioned in public."

114

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Schieffer was equally baffled by Duffy's tactics. "Maybe they t h o u g h t their best chance was trying the case by press release rather than by serious civil lawsuit," he says. "But it was a bizarre strategy as far as I could figure out that didn't do too m u c h for the client. It was different than anything I ever experienced." Federal rules prevented Schieffer from publicly discussing the criminal investigation. O n c e the g r a n d j u r y convened, he generally adhered to those rules, refusing to respond to the attacks of Duffy a n d the Larson b r o t h e r s ' s u p p o r t e r s . As a result, the institute w o n the media battle. Schieffer is the first to a d m i t this. "We knew public relations was going to be a h u g e headache no m a t t e r h o w you sliced it," he says. Although blessed with what he t e r m s a "fairly thick skin," there were times w h e n he w o u l d have liked to tell the government's side of the story to the public. "These guys h a d flagrantly violated the law," he says, adding, "If you start from the beginning, they k n e w this was n o t a [mere] $5000 specimen. T h e skullduggery started the very first day." As the grand jury's investigation of alleged skullduggery heated up, the case to d e t e r m i n e w h o o w n e d or at least w h o should possess Sue seemed to be w i n d i n g d o w n . Because the g o v e r n m e n t a n d the institute h a d agreed to all the material facts of the case, Judge Battey's decision would in all likelihood d e p e n d on h o w he answered a question that seemed m o r e a p p r o p r i a t e for a philosophy classroom t h a n a c o u r t r o o m : Is a fossil personal p r o p e r t y (in this case, an object apart from the land) or real p r o p e r t y (part of the land itself)? Said the government: T h e fossil was land or an interest in land; therefore Williams did need g o v e r n m e n t permission to sell it. Said the institute: T h e fossil was neither land n o r an interest in land; therefore Williams did n o t need permission. Congress's effort to regulate Indian lands dates back to the nineteenth century. In a South Dakota Law Review article, "Jurassic Farce," Duffy a n d c o a u t h o r Lois Lofgren presented a comprehensive history of such regulation. This history says as m u c h a b o u t h o w society viewed Native Americans as h o w it viewed their lands: If these wards of the nation were placed in possession of real estate, a n d were given capacity to sell or lease the same, or to make contracts with white m e n with reference thereto, they

IS

A

DINOSAUR

"LAND"?

11 5

would soon be deprived of their several holdings; a n d . . . instead of a d o p t i n g the c u s t o m s a n d habits of civilized life a n d becoming self-supporting, they w o u l d speedily waste their s u b stance, a n d very likely b e c o m e p a u p e r s . So said the Eighth Circuit in the case of Beck v. Flournoy Live-Stock and Real Estate Co. In this 1894 decision, the court was interpreting the Congressional intent behind enactment of the General Allotment Act of 1887 (GAA). The GAA gave individual Native Americans a parcel of land (or "allotment") to "enable t h e m to become independent farmers a n d ranchers." Each Native American "owned" the land for the purposes of farming, grazing, and residence, but the United States held title to the allotment in trust for 25 years. During that time, the land could not be sold, transferred, or taxed. By creating this quarter-century trust period, Congress intended the Native American "to become accustomed to his new life, to learn his rights as a citizen, and prepare himself to cope on an equal footing with any white m a n w h o might attempt to cheat him out of his newly acquired property." In Beck, the court noted that the act protected Indians "from the greed and superior intelligence of the white man." T h e Indian Reorganization Act of 1934 stopped the allotment policy. However, the act provided an indefinite extension of the trust period m a n d a t e d by the GAA. It also assured that the trust be passed on to the heirs of the landowner. Apparently, Congress still believed that Native Americans needed to be protected from their o w n i n c o m p e t e n c e and the white man's greed. Over the next 14 years, the Native Americans either demonstrated that they were more competent than previously believed or the white m a n demonstrated that he was less greedy. The petition process was instituted in 1948, when Congress gave the Secretary of the Interior "discretion . . . u p o n application of the Indian owners to . . . approve conveyances with respect to lands or interests in lands held by individual Indians." "Lands or interests in lands" was the operative phrase, argued Duffy. Sue was neither, a n d therefore there was no need for Williams to petition, the institute argued in its brief: Sixty-five million years ago, w h e n Sue was alive, there was no d o u b t that a Tyrannosaurus rex was n o t "land." . . . After Sue

116

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

died, her b o n e s on the surface of the earth remained personal property. While the bones were lying exposed on the earth, they were certainly " m o v a b l e " a n d thus were personal p r o p e r t y within the m e a n i n g of South Dakota law. Likewise, after the partially b u r i e d fossil was u n e a r t h e d , there is no d o u b t whatsoever that the rex was personal property. In its brief, the g o v e r n m e n t offered its o w n analysis as to whether or n o t Sue was land: U n d e r South Dakota law, "land is the solid material of the earth, whatever m a y be the ingredients of which it is composed, whether soil, rock, or other substance." . . . T h e analogy to m i n erals a n d other substances which, t h o u g h eons ago organic, have long since b e c o m e part of the earth is here well placed. Indeed, the composition of the fossil is primarily rock a n d mineral. Duffy k n e w that forcing Judge Battey to decide whether Sue was land or personal p r o p e r t y was to p u t h i m between a rock and a hard place. T h e institute's brief, therefore, offered an additional reason for deciding that its possessory interest was superior to the government's. As a m a t t e r of "public policy," the court should not void Williams's sale of Sue to the Larsons, Duffy argued: T h e b o t t o m line is that Williams, as an Indian, should have as m u c h right to sell fossils from his land as would a white person from her land, particularly in this day a n d age of e c o n o m i c selfd e t e r m i n a t i o n for Indians. A decision affirming the governm e n t ' s seizure of the fossil, would . . . rob [Indians] of the respect they are owed as individuals w h o can contract with respect to their o w n personal property. In an o d d way, Peter Larson, or at least his lawyer, had b e c o m e Othniel C. M a r s h — p l e a d i n g the case of the Indians in return for the rights to a fossil. Judge Battey issued his o p i n i o n on February 3, 1993. " T h e case has h a d a s o m e w h a t convoluted a n d checkered past," he began. After

IS

A

DINOSAUR

"LAND"?

117

reviewing the material facts on which the g o v e r n m e n t a n d the institute agreed, he noted: " T h e ultimate issue is w h e t h e r [the institute] o b t a i n e d ownership to the fossil while the land from which it was excavated was held by the United States in its trust capacity." Ownership? Wasn't the ultimate issue merely w h o had the superior possessory interest? No, said the judge. "A p e r m a n e n t possessory right to the fossil is s u b s u m e d within the context of ownership." Judge Battey refused to accept Duffy's public policy argument that Williams could ignore the relevant statutes solely because he was a competent Native American. As a result the fate of Sue would rest on the courtr o o m version of the old parlor r o o m game Animal, Vegetable, or Mineral. U n d e r the heading, "Was the Fossil an Interest in Land?" Judge Battey wrote: " T h e court has found no case a u t h o r i t y specifically h o l d ing that a paleontological fossil such as the fossil 'Sue' e m b e d d e d in the g r o u n d is an 'interest in land.'" Therefore, to address the issue of whether Sue was real p r o p e r t y or personal property, the judge h a d t u r n e d to the "helpful" definitions found in the South Dakota statutes: Real a n d personal p r o p e r t y distinguished. Real or i m m o v a b l e p r o p e r t y consists of: (1) Land; (2) T h a t which is affixed to land; (3) T h a t which is incidental or a p p u r t e n a n t to land; (4) T h a t which is i m m o v a b l e by law. Every kind of p r o p e r t y that is not real is personal. Land as solid material of earth. Land is the solid material of earth, whatever m a y be the ingredients of which it c o m p o s e d , whether soil, rock, or o t h e r substance. [This definition h a d been q u o t e d by the g o v e r n m e n t in its brief.] Citing no other authority t h a n these definitions a n d offering no other analysis or explanation, the judge wrote: " T h e court finds that the e m b e d d e d fossil was an interest in land as defined by these provisions and therefore subject to the r e q u i r e m e n t s of [the federal statutes]." Having m a d e this d e t e r m i n a t i o n , his final decision was inevitable: Maurice Williams did not make application for consent to the removal of the e m b e d d e d fossil. [The institute] was equally

118

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

responsible to insure that consent was obtained in compliance with federal law. W i t h o u t such consent, the attempted sale of the fossil "Sue" e m b e d d e d within the land is null and void. [The institute] obtained no legal right, title, or interest in the fossil as severed since the severance itself was contrary to law. It would have been a relatively simple matter to have applied for the removal of the alienation restraint. H a d there been such an application a n d secretarial approval, all these m o n t h s of contention could have been avoided. [The institute] must assume m u c h of the fault caused by the failure to conform their conduct to the federal laws a n d regulations. [It] should have investigated the status of the land involved. They ran the risk of this unlawful taking of the fossil from Indian land by not having d o n e so. "Judge Rules T. rex Not Institute's," shouted the front-page headline in the next day's Journal. "Judge Wrecks Plans for T. rex" said the Minneapolis Star Tribune. " D i n o s a u r Fossil Belongs Not Just to the Ages b u t to the Government," observed The New York Times. T h e Larsons, unaware that the judge's ruling was i m m i n e n t , were on their way to a gem a n d mineral show in Tucson, Arizona. "We were in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, of all places, when we got the news," Peter recalls. It was official n o w : After t h o u s a n d s of m a n h o u r s of w o r k a n d an estimated $209,000 in out-of-pocket expenses (not to m e n t i o n m o r e t h a n $100,000 in attorneys' fees), they had nothing. Duffy spoke for himself a n d the institute. "I'm very, very disappointed," he told the press. "We will appeal immediately." Schieffer also spoke to the media. " N o t w i t h s t a n d i n g all the media hype, this is a pretty clear-cut issue. I just don't see h o w the court could have ruled differently." T h e judge's o p i n i o n was clear-cut on o n e issue: T h e institute did n o t o w n Sue. But Battey had not stated w h o did ultimately own the fossil. In addition to the g o v e r n m e n t , Williams a n d the Cheyenne River Sioux were still claiming Sue. In his p o s t - o p i n i o n talk with the press. Duffy o p i n e d that, unless the institute w o n its appeal, ownership would revert to Williams because the judge had declared the sale null a n d void. He a d d e d that Williams w o u l d have to pay back the $5000 the institute h a d paid for Sue.

IS

A

DINOSAUR

"LAND"?

119

Schieffer wasn't so sure that Williams o w n e d Sue. "This was an area where the federal g o v e r n m e n t had internal inconsistencies. You could have gone any o n e of three ways," he says. Various laws s u p p o r t e d giving Sue to Williams, the tribe, a n d the federal g o v e r n m e n t — w h i c h , as a sort of trustee of antiquities for the American people, w o u l d make it available for study a n d display. Although Schieffer had his o w n preference and would later lobby for it, he did not believe the decision was his to make. " T h e question needs to be resolved by the administration," he said after Judge Battey ruled. The usually loquacious Williams initially declined c o m m e n t . A few days later, when reached by reporter Pamela Stillman of Indian Country Today, he said that he o w n e d Sue. " T h e laws are very clear." The c h a i r m a n of Williams's tribe disagreed. "Both the l a n d o w n e r [Williams] a n d the institute c o m m i t t e d a crime on the reservation by digging up the fossil," Gregg Bourland told Stillman."[Battey's o p i n i o n ] goes to show that justice has been served." Steve Emery, the tribal attorney, a d d e d that the tribe would soon file an action in tribal court for ownership of Sue; the tribal council had approved such a filing six weeks earlier but, at Schieffer's request, had waited to act until Judge Battey's decision. Before the week was over, Duffy h a d filed a brief requesting that Judge Battey reconsider the ruling. "This court's decision is on a collision course with Indian self-determination," wrote Duffy. Emery also invoked Indian self-determination in his a r g u m e n t on behalf of the tribe. "We had gold in the Black Hills, a n d we lost the Black Hills. N o w we've got paleontological gold a n d they c a m e in a n d ripped that up." O n e could imagine Primetime Lives Sylvia Chase r e t u r n i n g to the Black Hills after Judge Battey's o p i n i o n a n d asking the same question of Larson, Schieffer, Bourland, a n d Williams that she h a d asked m o n t h s earlier. " W h o owns Sue?" T h e television c o r r e s p o n d e n t would have found that n o t h i n g had changed. All four still claimed ownership. T h e parties seemed m u c h less concerned with the noble virtue of self-determination than they were with self-aggrandizement. As the i n h a r m o n i o u s quartet c o n t i n u e d to fiddle a r o u n d , the bones of contention continued to sit, if n o t c r u m b l e , at the School of Mines. Said the institute's Zenker: "This is probably the premiere paleontolog-

120

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

ical specimen of the world today, a n d to have it h i d d e n away in the dark in a giant metal container is n o t at all what we had in m i n d or supposedly what the g o v e r n m e n t h a d in m i n d , b u t that's what's happening." A n d , remarkably, that's what w o u l d c o n t i n u e to h a p p e n for almost five m o r e years.

7

JURASSIC

FARCE

"Four million dollars." Fred Nuss, a tan, wiry man in his forties leaned forward in his chair. The fossil hunter hadn't come from his home in Otis, Kansas, to bid on the dinosaur. He already had a T. rex, although it wasn't quite as complete as Sue. Unlike Peter Larson, Nuss had decided to sell his dinosaur. He and his business partner Alan Detrich were asking $10 million for the specimen, which they called, "Z. rex" after a rancher named Zimmerscheid. Their dream was the academic community's nightmare. The entrepreneurs didn't care if the buyer was a museum or a private collector or if Z. ended up in the United States or abroad. Nuss had once sold a mosasaur skull to actor Charlie Sheen for $30,000. John Tayman, a writer who covered the auction for Outside magazine, reported: "When each million-dollar threshold was reached, Nuss and his team let out a polite whoop and then sat back giggling while the hundreds of thousands flew by." While the institute lawyers constructed their appeal of Judge Battey's decision, Peter Larson reconstructed the life of his other T. rex. Each of Stan's scars told a story. "We surmise that [he] scuffled for territory, fought over food, a n d engaged in o t h e r behavior similar to today's carnivores," Larson wrote.

121

122

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Stan's "pathologies" included several broken a n d healed ribs a n d a scar the same size as a T. rex t o o t h . He also appeared to have suffered a n d survived a b r o k e n neck. In the process of healing, two vertebrae fused together a n d a third b e c a m e immobilized by extra b o n e growth. His cheeks also showed evidence of healed injuries. Looking at Stan's skull, Larson the paleontologist t u r n e d p h r e n o l o gist. "Most chilling is a healed injury on the back of the braincase," he wrote. " T h r o u g h the back end of the skull we found a circular hole m o r e t h a n 1 inch in d i a m e t e r — i n t o which a T. rex t o o t h fits nicely. T h e hole e n d s at a spot where a large c h u n k of b o n e (2 inches by 5 inches) actually broke away. Amazingly, Stan lived t h r o u g h this incredible injury because a thin layer of b o n e sealed the broken surface." Stan Sacrison, the a m a t e u r w h o h a d found this T. rex, had also helped collect Z. rex. After s p e n d i n g m o n t h s on their o w n looking for such a d i n o s a u r w i t h o u t luck in 1992, Nuss a n d Detrich had driven to Buffalo, South Dakota, to see if Sacrison a n d his twin brother Steven m i g h t help t h e m . Stan, an electrician by day, a n d Steven, a construction worker a n d p a r t - t i m e grave digger, had enjoyed great success digging for fossils. T h e twins, in their mid-thirties at the time, introduced Nuss a n d Detrich to Z i m m e r s c h e i d , w h o had found bones on his land outside of t o w n . Like Sue H e n d r i c k s o n , the b r o t h e r s seemed to have been b o r n with the ability to find fossils. T h e lanky, sandy-haired Stan was just 8 years old w h e n he found his first d i n o s a u r b o n e , the vertebra of a Triceratops. He has been h u n t i n g for d i n o s a u r s ever since. In 1987, Sacrison first spotted the bones of the T. rex that would eventually be n a m e d after h i m . His description of first seeing vertebrae weathering o u t of a cliff calls to m i n d Hendrickson's discovery of Sue. In need of an expert o p i n i o n , Sacrison called the M u s e u m of Geology in Rapid City for help. T h e m u s e u m ' s "expert" told h i m he'd found a Triceratops a n d o p i n e d that it wasn't w o r t h excavating. Sacrison took the advice. As a result, n o t h i n g was d o n e for five years. In 1992 Sacrison h a p p e n e d to tell a friend a b o u t the find. T h e friend suggested that he call Peter Larson. Larson looked at the bones and, again, i m m e d i a t e l y k n e w t h a t they b e l o n g e d to a I

rex, n o t a

Triceratops. T h u s began a mutually beneficial relationship between the Sacrisons a n d Larson. Stan Sacrison credits Larson with helping h i m

JURASSIC

FARCE

123

h o n e his collecting skills a n d enabling h i m to indulge his passion for collecting by paying h i m for his finds. T h e c o n t e m p o r a r y Larson/Sacrison relationship echoes the n i n e teenth-century relationship between Edwin Drinker C o p e a n d his p r o tege Charles H. Sternberg. Sternberg was b o r n in 1850 in upstate New York. Like Sacrison, he developed a love of fossils at an early age. In 1867 his family moved to a farm on the Kansas prairie. There, he began collecting in earnest. W h e n he was 10, Sternberg fell 20 feet from a ladder, p e r m a n e n t l y injuring his left leg. He walked with a p r o n o u n c e d l i m p for the rest of his life. This injury did not prevent h i m from p u r s u i n g his d r e a m a n d eventually earning a living excavating a n d selling dinosaurs a n d fossils to m u s e u m s a n d individuals a r o u n d the world. In his 1909 autobiography, The Life of a Fossil Hunter, he recalled: "I m a d e up my m i n d . . . I would make it my business to collect facts from the crust of the earth; that thus m e n might learn m o r e of 'the i n t r o d u c t i o n a n d succession of life on o u r earth.' My father was unable to see the practical s i d e . . . . He told me that if I h a d been a rich man's son, it would doubtless be an enjoyable way of passing my time, b u t as I should have to earn a living, I o u g h t to t u r n to s o m e other business." The Life of a Fossil Hunter painstakingly details the trials a n d tribulations of the m e n w h o earned a living h u n t i n g bones in the second half of the nineteenth century. In 1876, while a s t u d e n t at the Kansas State Agricultural College, Sternberg a t t e m p t e d to join an expedition led by Benjamin F. Mudge, a geology professor w h o collected specimens for Othniel C. Marsh. M u d g e t u r n e d h i m d o w n . Sternberg later wrote: "Almost with despair, I t u r n e d for help to Professor E. D. C o p e of Philadelphia. . . . I p u t my soul into the l e t t e r . . . . I told h i m of my love for science a n d of my earnest longing to enter the chalk of western Kansas a n d make a collection of its wonderful fossils, no m a t t e r what it might cost me in discomfort a n d danger." Confessing that he was too p o o r to go at his o w n expense, Sternberg boldly asked C o p e to send h i m $300 "to buy a team of ponies, a wagon, and a c a m p outfit, a n d to hire a cook a n d driver." C o p e responded quickly. Sternberg writes: " W h e n I o p e n e d the envelope, a draft for $300 fell at my feet. T h e note that a c c o m p a n i e d it said: 'I like the style of your letter. Enclose draft. Go to work,' or words to the same effect."

124

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Sternberg went to work. In the Kansas chalk, he toiled from dawn to dusk, "forgetting the heat a n d the miserable thirst a n d the alkali water, forgetting everything b u t the o n e great object of my life—to secure from the c r u m b l i n g strata of this old ocean bed the fossil remains of the fauna of Cretaceous Times." T h e constant labor, however, weakened h i m . "I fell a victim to malaria, a n d w h e n a violent attack of shaking ague came on, I felt as if fate were indeed against me." In the m i d d l e of a shaking fit, he found a fine mosasaur, which C o p e w o u l d later n a m e Clidastes tortor because of its flexible b a c k b o n e . "Forgetting my sickness, I shouted to the surr o u n d i n g wilderness, ' T h a n k God! T h a n k G o d ! ' " Sternberg wrote. W h e n Cope traveled west a few m o n t h s later, in August 1876, Sternberg a n d his assistant J. C. Isaac m e t h i m in O m a h a . "I r e m e m b e r h i m watching me with a s t o n i s h m e n t as I limped along the street on my crippled leg. At last t u r n i n g to Isaac, . . . he asked, 'Can Mr. Sternberg ride a horse?'" Isaac answered that he h a d seen Sternberg " m o u n t a p o n y bareback a n d cut o n e of his mares from a h e r d of wild horses." T h a t satisfied C o p e . Sternberg r e m e m b e r e d : " W h e n we got to M o n t a n a , he gave me the w o r s t - t e m p e r e d p o n y in the bunch." A bad p o n y was the least of Sternberg's worries once the party reached the Badlands just a few weeks after General Custer and his m e n fell at Little Bighorn. Indians did not present a problem, but the terrain did. Sternberg recalled a frightening slip while crossing a sandstone ledge where a perpendicular escarpment d r o p p e d downward for 1000 feet. "God grant that I may never again feel such h o r r o r as I felt then, when the pick, u p o n which I had d e p e n d e d for safety, r e b o u n d e d as if it had been polished steel, as useless in my h a n d s as a piece of straw. I struck frantically again, b u t all the t i m e I was sliding d o w n with ever-increasing rapidity toward the edge of the abyss . . . a n d certain and awful death below." Sternberg survived—"To this day I do n o t k n o w how," he wrote—to face m o r e m u n d a n e troubles: "We were t o r m e n t e d by myriads of black gnats, which got u n d e r o u r hat rims a n d shirt sleeves, and produced sores that gave rise to pus a n d thick scabs

We were forced, for lack of

s o m e t h i n g better, to cover o u r faces a n d a r m s with bacon grease." The results of the expedition m a d e the torment tolerable. In the Cretaceous formations of Montana, Cope and Sternberg found dinosaurs.

JURASSIC

FARCE

125

Judge Battey might have found Sternberg's century-old observations about the discovery interesting. "Fossil bones always partake of the characteristics of the rock in which they are entombed, and here they were quite hard when we got into where the rock was compact," he wrote in his autobiography In the rock, Cope found, for the first time in America, a specimen of a h o r n e d dinosaur. He n a m e d it Monoclonius. Sternberg himself found two new species, including Monoclonius sphenocerus,

another

h o r n e d dinosaur which C o p e estimated to have been 25 feet long a n d 6 or 7 feet high at the hips. Sternberg spent m a n y years collecting for Cope. T h e two r e m a i n e d friends until the professor's death in 1897. T h a t friendship, however, did not prevent Sternberg from collecting for Marsh after Cope's financial ruin. He also collected for a n d sold his fossils to n u m e r o u s m u s e u m s a r o u n d the world. In the s u m m e r of 1901, Sternberg journeyed to the red beds of Texas, near Willow Springs, for the Royal M u s e u m of M u n i c h . By that time, fossil collecting had b e c o m e a family affair. Sternberg's sons, George, Levi, a n d Charlie, all worked with their father in the field. T h e weather was so hot, "I saw cattle die of thirst a n d starvation," Sternberg wrote. " H o w can I describe the hot winds, carrying on their wings clouds of dust, which were so c o m m o n that year a n d the next?" Again, success mitigated the hardship. Sternberg found a relatively complete skeleton of Labidosaurus, an ancient a n d primitive reptile. T h e specimen became a prize of the M u n i c h collection. Over the next few years, the Sternbergs c o n t i n u e d to w o r k in Texas and the Badlands. In 1908, they went to s o u t h e r n W y o m i n g to look for Triceratops. On the same day they found a Triceratops skull, they found other dinosaur bones weathering out of a sandstone escarpment. After spending several days excavating the sandstone, they t o o k their chisels to a block containing the breastbone. Sternberg, w h o h a d gone to t o w n to ship the Triceratops skull to the British M u s e u m , recounts what he saw u p o n his return: Shall I ever experience such joy as w h e n I stood in the q u a r r y for the first time, a n d beheld lying in state the m o s t complete skeleton of an extinct animal I have ever seen, after 40 years of

126

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

experience as a collector! T h e crowning specimen of my life's work! A great duck-billed d i n o s a u r . . . lay on its back with front limbs stretched out as if i m p l o r i n g aid, while the h i n d limbs in a convulsive effort were d r a w n up a n d folded against the walls of the a b d o m e n . T h e head lay u n d e r the right shoulder. Sternberg speculated that the d i n o s a u r may have fallen on its back into a morass a n d died of a b r o k e n neck or d r o w n e d . "If this was so, the antiseptic character of the p e a t - b o g had preserved the flesh, until, t h r o u g h decay, the contents of the viscera h a d been replaced with sand. It lay there with expanded ribs as in life, w r a p p e d in the impressions of the skin whose beautiful p a t t e r n s of octagonal plates m a r k e d the fine s a n d s t o n e above the bones." W h y was the Sternbergs' duck-bill, which to this day is k n o w n as "the m u m m y dinosaur," so well preserved? After dying in the water, "the gases forming in the b o d y floated the carcass," Sternberg surmised. " W h e n the gases escaped, the skin collapsed a n d occupied their space." Sternberg sold this find of his life to the American M u s e u m of Natural History, a n d whenever he was in New York, he m a d e a special point of seeing it. He c o n t i n u e d collecting into his eighties a n d died at age 93 in 1943. His sons also c o n t i n u e d to collect a n d were responsible for n u m e r o u s i m p o r t a n t d i n o s a u r finds, primarily in Canada. Looking back on his years as a fossil hunter, Sternberg wrote: W h a t is it that urges a m a n to risk his life in these precipitous fossil beds? I can only answer for myself, but with me there were two motives, the desire to add to h u m a n knowledge, which has been the greatest motive of my life, and the h u n t i n g instinct, which is deeply planted in my heart. N o t the desire to destroy life, but to see it. The m a n whose love for wild animals is most deeply developed is not he w h o ruthlessly takes their lives b u t . . . he w h o studies t h e m with loving sympathy and pictures t h e m in their various haunts. It is thus that I love creatures of other ages and that I want to become acquainted with t h e m in their natural environments. They are never dead to me; my imagination breathes life into the "valley of dry bones," a n d not only do the living forms of the ani-

JURASSIC

FARCE

127

mals stand before me, but the countries which they inhabited rise for me through the mist of the ages. Charles H. Sternberg said he was only answering for himself, b u t his lyrical reflection might just as well have been written by Peter Larson. In fact, Sternberg was o n e of Larson's heroes. T h e two shared m o r e t h a n a desire to work independently a n d think imaginatively. Sternberg also had experienced the loss of a great find. While collecting in Alberta for the British M u s e u m in June 1916, Sternberg and his sons had found three duck-billed dinosaurs. Two of the specimens were almost complete. After four m o n t h s of excavation, Sternberg loaded the two extraordinary fossils o n t o the E n g l a n d - b o u n d SS Mount Temple. T h e ship never m a d e it across the Atlantic. Torpedoed by the G e r m a n s , it sank to the ocean floor, a casualty of World War I. Sternberg's heart sank with the vessel: " T h e British M u s e u m could have m o u n t e d these two lords of the ancient bayou in that great storehouse of treasures, m o r e rare t h a n gold or silver, to be the heritage of the ages to come." There was no indication that Sue would soon be m o u n t e d for the c o m i n g ages. Although Judge Battey quickly denied Duffy's m o t i o n for a rehearing in his court, the Eighth Circuit was obliged to hear the institute's appeal of the decision denying it ownership. This appellate process was certain to take m o n t h s , if not years. T h e parties needed t i m e to write their briefs a n d their replies to each others briefs. Oral arguments before the court w o u l d eventually follow. W h e n the Eighth Circuit finally did render an o p i n i o n , the losing party might appeal to the U.S. S u p r e m e C o u r t . Conceivably o n e of the courts m i g h t o r d e r Judge Battey to hold a full-fledged trial to d e t e r m i n e ownership. Following Battey's February 3 decision, Schieffer h a d asked the Clinton administration to d e t e r m i n e w h o o w n e d Sue. South Dakota Governor George Mickelson, fearful that Sue m i g h t e n d up outside his state, had also asked Bruce Babbitt, the new secretary of the U.S. D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior, to review the matter. T h e a d m i n i s t r a t i o n might rule before the Eighth Circuit issued an o p i n i o n . But until the judicial b r a n c h was finally d o n e with the case—whenever that m i g h t be—enforcement of any executive b r a n c h decision would, most likely, wait.

128

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Schieffer w o u l d n o t see the case to its conclusion. In March, Senator Daschle a n n o u n c e d that he h a d n o m i n a t e d Karen Schreier, an attorney from Sioux Falls, to replace the acting U.S. attorney. Senate confirmation was required, b u t Daschle suggested that Schreier might assume the office in an "interim" capacity, subject to confirmation at a later date. Reached by the Journal after her n o m i n a t i o n , Schreier appeared to be o n e of the few people in South Dakota w h o refused to answer: W h o o w n s Sue? "I w o u l d have to look at the case, talk with the attorneys that have been h a n d l i n g the m a t t e r before I could make any decision," she told the newspaper. Duffy's response to news of the a p p o i n t m e n t was injudicious. "It's h a r d to say at this p o i n t h o w things will play out, but, God only knows, n o t h i n g could be worse for my clients t h a n Kevin Schieffer," said the institute attorney. "If Tom [Daschle] h a d a n n o u n c e d that he was a p p o i n t i n g Idi A m i n , I would be dancing a jig. Unlike Schieffer, she [Schreier] is actually a lawyer a n d has s o m e legal experience." Of course, Schieffer did have a law degree and, for better or worse, h a d bested Duffy a n d his law firm at every t u r n . M o r e i m p o r t a n t , until he left the post, Schieffer was still in charge of the investigation that could result in the i n d i c t m e n t a n d i m p r i s o n m e n t of Duffy's clients. C o m p a r i n g the m a n w h o still h a d the m o s t influence with the grand j u r y weighing the Larsons' fate to Idi A m i n seems not only impolite b u t impolitic. A n d "unprofessional," according to Schieffer. "If a n o t h e r attorney wants to m a k e unprofessional c o m m e n t s , then that's their prerogative," he responded. "But I'm n o t going to . . . wallow in the m u d on a professional level, a n d I'm n o t going to c o m m e n t on the specifics of any cases." W h e n asked if criminal charges would be filed, Schieffer didn't wallow. Still, he couldn't resist r e t u r n i n g Duffy's fire. "Theoretically, I'm not supposed to be in the business of confirming that there is a case," he said. " T h e only reason you guys [the press] k n o w there is a case or all this concern for reputation . . . is because those folks [the institute] have been sending press releases to you right a n d left." A few days after t h e Larsons' lawyer insulted Schieffer, o n e of their s u p p o r t e r s a n n o u n c e d plans to arrest t h e U.S. a t t o r n e y . . . a n d Assistant U.S. A t t o r n e y David Z u e r c h e r . . . a n d FBI Special Agent

JURASSIC

FARCE

129

William Asbury . . . a n d Judge Battey. Travis O p d y k e was fed up w i t h the investigation. He felt the g o v e r n m e n t h a d harassed his wife M a r i o n Zenker, the institute's a d m i n i s t r a t i v e assistant, w h e n she a p p e a r e d before the g r a n d jury. Zenker h a d already i n c u r r e d $8000 in legal fees. Opdyke, a former d e p u t y a n d jailer t u r n e d freelance writer, had tried to remove the prosecutors from their posts t h r o u g h conventional channels by forming the G o v e r n m e n t Accountability G r o u p a n d petitioning the Justice D e p a r t m e n t a n d President Clinton. Having received no satisfaction from Washington, D.C., he was n o w ready to take m a t ters into his o w n h a n d s by arresting the four offenders. He emphasized that he would not be a r m e d a n d w o u l d n o t use force in m a k i n g the arrests. He urged Schieffer, Zuercher, Asbury, a n d Battey to t u r n t h e m selves over to a magistrate "of their o w n accord." Two days later O p d y k e delivered a "notice of intent to a p p r e h e n d " a n d a "bill of particulars" to Assistant U.S. Attorney Bob Mandel at the federal building in Rapid City. After Mandel convinced h i m that he w o u l d be "ill advised" to arrest a federal judge, O p d y k e d r o p p e d Battey from his list a n d said he would work to impeach the judge. He gave the other three m e n 24 h o u r s to t u r n themselves in before he arrested t h e m . Contacted by the Journal, Larson said that he u n d e r s t o o d Opdyke's a n d Zenker's frustration b u t did n o t s u p p o r t Opdyke's latest plan. "These tactics do n o t h i n g to help o u r case," he said. Mandel told the Journal that the d o c u m e n t s h a d no legal significance. His a r g u m e n t was m o o t . Opdyke never tried to make the arrests. H a d Opdyke k n o w n that, on March 18, T i m o t h y S. Elliott, the acting solicitor of the U.S. D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior, had issued an o p i n i o n concerning the ownership of Sue, he might have tried to arrest h i m , too. The opinion, contained in a letter from Elliott to Governor Mickelson was not m a d e public until April 7. W h o owns Sue? Maurice Williams, said the Interior D e p a r t m e n t . Elliott's logic was simple. Williams h a d p u t his land in trust with the United States a n d couldn't sell or convey an interest in it w i t h o u t the Interior D e p a r t m e n t ' s consent. Judge Battey h a d ruled that the institute never received title to Sue because the Interior D e p a r t m e n t never approved the alleged transaction with Williams. Therefore, the land/fossil continued to be held in trust for Williams by the United States.

130

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Elliott went on to discuss the implications of this j u d g m e n t : "If the Indian l a n d o w n e r should decide to transfer ownership of the fossil, the p r o p o s e d transfer would require approval by the Interior D e p a r t m e n t in its capacity as trustee. T h e sole p u r p o s e of the d e p a r t m e n t ' s reviews, however, will be to ensure that the transaction is in the interest of the Indian l a n d o w n e r [Williams]." Elliott did n o t m e n t i o n that the Antiquities Act or any other federal statute might limit Williams's ability to transfer ownership. T h e departm e n t appeared to be concerned only that a transfer was in the rancher's i n t e r e s t — n o t the interest of the g o v e r n m e n t or, for that matter the C h e y e n n e River Sioux. Presumably, Williams could sell Sue to w h o m ever he pleased. T h e press immediately sought reaction to Elliott's letter from the u b i q u i t o u s quartet of talking heads. Schieffer chose not to respond. Two days later he announced that he was resigning immediately to enter private practice in Sioux Falls. On leaving, he said that he did not envy the "political a n d other pressure" his successor would face in dealing with the criminal investigation of the institute. Years later, Schieffer was willing to share his t h o u g h t s . Awarding custody to Williams was, he said, "the least desirable" option. "I had gone a r o u n d with the Department of the Interior on how it should be handled to prevent that kind of conclusion." He added that, at least in the court of public opinion, " T h e tribe was screwed. They had a claim. This was reservation land within their jurisdiction. Their rights from a civil action standpoint were n o t [ u n d e r s t o o d ] . T h e tribal chief tried to do the right thing. This was n o t a b o u t m o n e y b u t about sovereignty." Despite his d i s a p p o i n t m e n t in the Interior D e p a r t m e n t ' s decision, Schieffer expressed a sort of grudging a d m i r a t i o n for Williams's savvy. " T h e institute a n d Williams were b o t h trying to do the same to the other. W h o really got b a m b o o z l e d ? " Schieffer suggests it was the institute because, from the beginning, "Williams knew m u c h m o r e about Indian trust law t h a n he let on." H a d Williams suckered the Larsons from day one, taking their m o n e y w h e n he knew all along that trust law prevented h i m from selling the bones? If so, he is n o t talking. Williams was h a p p y to r e s p o n d to the D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior's decision. "It's real refreshing that we have laws," he said of the ruling that might eventually b r i n g h i m financial reward.

JURASSIC

FARCE

131

Duffy continued his offensive offensive. "It's shocking to me that Kevin Schieffer has spent millions of dollars to allow Maurice Williams to stick a priceless paleontological object in a pole b a r n outside Eagle Butte, if he chooses to do so," he said. Indian

Country

Today,

"America's

Indian

Newspaper," quickly

responded to these remarks. "Pat Duffy . . . is probably the poorest loser in legal history," the paper editorialized. "His latest rantings have even besmirched the sovereign Cheyenne River Sioux tribe

Technically and

historically, the T. rex bones belong to the [tribe]. If they work out an agreement with Mr. Williams it is of no c o n c e r n — a n d certainly no business—of Mr. Duffy. To use such an archaic, paternalistic attitude toward the Lakota people of the Cheyenne River Reservation is appalling." Duffy didn't back down. He responded to the editorial with a letter that the paper published. "My c o m m e n t was aimed at a policy which has squandered millions and used the criminal law to seize a priceless paleontological relic for an individual w h o actually sold it (not, as you represent, for a tribe or an entire people)," he explained. "The personal c o m m e n t s about me, however, stretch facts . . . to find racism in my remarks, which only tangentially concerned a rancher w h o happens to be of Indian descent. My experience has been that those w h o stretch to reach overtly racist conclusions are often reacting from a racist perspective themselves." Indian Country Today h a d suggested that the C h e y e n n e River Sioux owned Sue. T h e tribe r e s p o n d e d to the Interior D e p a r t m e n t ' s letter by suing the institute, the Larsons, Bob Farrar, a n d Maurice Williams in tribal court. T h e suit sought possession of Sue a n d m o n e t a r y damages for other fossils illegally removed from the reservation a n d no longer in the possession of the defendants. On what g r o u n d s was the tribe claiming ownership? T h e suit alleged that Williams violated a tribal o r d i n a n c e by failing to obtain a $100 tribal business license before allowing the fossil h u n t e r s o n t o his property or notifying the tribe of the h u n t e r s ' intentions. On what g r o u n d s was giving Sue to the tribe the p r o p e r r e m e d y to what appeared to be a m i n o r violation? A second tribal ordinance, enacted m o r e than two years after Sue's discovery, sanctioned forfeiture to the tribe of "all p r o p e r t y of any description . . . all m o n e y s , negotiable instruments, securities or other things of value" used in violation of any tribal law. A T. rex was an "other thing of value."

132

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

For once Duffy a n d Williams agreed on s o m e t h i n g . Each said that the suit was ridiculous. Duffy accused the tribe of declaring war on one of its o w n m e m b e r s by challenging the ownership of p r o p e r t y held in trust by the federal g o v e r n m e n t . He also told the Timber Lake Topic, "If this case would stand u p , it would set e c o n o m i c development back 100 years." Linking the license to forfeiture "will scare the hell out of anyb o d y trying to do business in Indian country," he explained. Williams said that if he needed a license to sell a fossil, then people picking berries, digging t u r n i p s , or selling eggs needed licenses, too. "They're [the tribe] r u n n i n g plain wild. This is going to progress into a hell of a lawsuit," he said. He added that he w o u l d rely on the federal g o v e r n m e n t to protect his rights. Such protection appeared forthcoming. Bob Walker, a s p o k e s m a n for the D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior, told the Journal that the d e p a r t m e n t still believed Sue belonged to Williams. "I w o u l d think that in any subsequent legal action we would seek to intervene to u p h o l d that principle." Duffy a n d his law p a r t n e r M a r k Marshall questioned that principle in their appeal to the Eighth C i r c u i t — t h e court that had the power to reverse Judge Battey's decision awarding o w n e r s h i p of Sue to the United States as Williams's trustee. In their appellate brief, filed just a few days after the tribal court action, Duffy a n d Marshall argued that Battey h a d erred in concluding that the g o v e r n m e n t , as Williams' trustee, owned Sue because she was land or an interest in land. A partially e m b e d d e d fossil is personal property, not real property, the institute's lawyers again maintained. NATURAL HISTORY FESTIVAL SCHEDULE OF EVENTS SUNDAY, MAY 16 Bike-A-Thon

11:00

Football Field

Rock Hound Roundup

11:30

Black Hills Institute

Girl Scout Cookie Sale

All day

Around town

Open House

11:30

B. H. Institute

Music

11:30

Alpine Inn

Book Signing & Sale

12:00

Oriana's

JURASSIC

FARCE

Presentation

12:00

B. H. Institute

Art Print Unveiling

1:00

School Gym

Auction

1:00

School Gym

Bus Rides to Site

3:00

School Gym

Site Dedication

3:45

Museum Site

PotLuck Dinner

5:00

Senior Center

133

T h e residents of Hill City had h o p e d that the discovery of Sue would reinvigorate their depressed economy. But instead of attracting crowds of tourists, the T. rex h a d attracted crowds of FBI agents a n d National G u a r d s m e n . As the first anniversary of the seizure approached, only the lawyers had reaped e c o n o m i c benefit. However, for o n e day, anyway, the institute, the Larsons, a n d the entire town would forget the d i s a p p o i n t m e n t s of the last 12 m o n t h s , including the layoff of 44 mill workers a n d loggers by C o n t i n e n t a l L u m b e r Company, the town's largest employer. Instead of gathering in district court or tribal court or before the Eighth Circuit or in the grand j u r y r o o m , everyone w o u l d meet on the football field or in the school gym or the senior center or at the site of the new Black Hills M u s e u m of Natural History. Despite the d i s a p p o i n t m e n t s of the last year, the t o w n h a d decided that a celebration was in order. Mayor D r u e Vitter had declared May 16 Hill City's First Annual Natural History Day Festival. T h e institute wholeheartedly endorsed the idea. "This could have been a dark day for us," said Larson, "but instead, on the anniversary of Sue's seizure, we want to affirm that we are definitely alive a n d kicking." T h e seizure had produced o n e unexpected dividend for Larson. In December, Kristin D o n n a n , a writer w h o worked on the television show Unsolved Mysteries, had come to Hill City from Los Angeles looking for a story. Instead, D o n n a n , an attractive w o m a n in her thirties with long brown hair, found love—during her first interview with Larson. A whirlwind courtship had ensued a n d the two had m a r r i e d four m o n t h s later. There was other good news besides the marriage. Over the last 12 m o n t h s , the Larson brothers had moved closer to realizing their lifelong dream of building a natural history m u s e u m . Their not-for-profit corporation had contracted to purchase a 10-acre site for the m u s e u m for

134

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

$50,000. Event organizers h o p e d that the day's events would raise the $7000 needed to make the first year's contract p a y m e n t on the property. They exceeded that figure by almost $3000. Almost 500 people t u r n e d o u t for the festival. Hill City youngsters began the day with a bike-a-thon that raised m o r e than $150. That event's top fund raiser, Arlo Holsworth, received a cast of a T. rex tooth as his prize. An all-day bake sale raised additional money, as did the sale of a limited edition of 300 color prints of artist Mitch McClain's rendition of the m u s e u m . Casey Derflinger b o u g h t p r i n t n u m b e r 1 for $250 a n d p r o m p t l y displayed it in his office at First Western Bank. As expected, an auction of fossils a n d jewelry raised the most money, almost $9000. A m o n g the 119 items sold were a cast of an adolescent m a s t o d o n skull with tusks, a cast of the world's largest shark's tooth, a n d a cast of o n e of Stan's teeth (Stan the T. rex, not Stan Sacrison). O t h e r activities c o n t r i b u t e d to creating a pleasant t i m e - o u t from the C o n t e n t i o u s Period. T h e p o p u l a r R u s h m o r e G e r m a n Band from Rapid City provided music on the front porch of the Alpine Inn. According to the Hill City Prevailer, " T h e [potluck] supper crowd filled the Senior Citizens Center three times over as the line kept going and going a n d g o i n g . . . . No o n e went away hungry." The highlight of the festival was the m u s e u m site dedication ceremony on a hill n o r t h of town. The Boy Scouts raised the flag. The Fife and D r u m Corps gave their first show of the season. And Larson broke g r o u n d by digging a shovel full of dirt. "Pete and Neal gave it a quick lookover for any potential fossils it might contain!" reported the Prevailer. T h e Larsons also spoke at the dedication. T h e y reiterated the u n d e r lying philosophy of their efforts: that rather t h a n being storage space for old fossils, a m u s e u m should be for the living—a place to uplift a n d educate. T h r o u g h all the t u r m o i l of the previous year, the Larsons had never stopped their education outreach p r o g r a m s . Most popular was their Dinosaurs on Wheels p r o g r a m , which featured a juvenile duckbilled d i n o s a u r that h a d been specially m o u n t e d to facilitate its p o r t a bility. T h e Larsons took Dinosaurs on Wheels to n u m e r o u s schools a r o u n d the state, including schools on Indian reservations. W h e n , in mid-May, Larson b r o u g h t the exhibit to the grade school he h a d attended as a child in Mission, South Dakota, the local Todd County Tribune covered the two-day event:

JURASSIC

FARCE

135

Complete with a d i n o s a u r skeleton, Larson's presentation fascinated the youngsters, w h o asked such questions as, " H o w m a n y eggs do they lay?" and "Why are their a r m s so short in front?" In his talk, Larson explained that the creatures were really birds, told about m e t h o d s of collecting a n d cleaning the fossils, a n d about what scientists do to learn a b o u t dinosaurs. "I love for t h e m to ask questions," he said. " T h e only stupid question is the o n e you don't ask." He a d d e d that because so little is k n o w n about dinosaurs a n d the fossils are so plentiful, anyone can discover and c o n t r i b u t e to paleontology. T h e t i m e - o u t ended about three weeks later. "Sue II: Hill City Ire and Federal Agents Return," the Journal reported on June 8. At 7:30 the previous m o r n i n g , s o m e 30 FBI agents, again led by Charles D r a p e r a n d William Asbury, had descended on the institute with a search w a r r a n t . T h e agents had spent seven h o u r s collecting fossils a n d d o c u m e n t s , loading t h e m into m o r e than 50 boxes, a n d carrying everything o u t to two rental m o v i n g trucks. Ted McBride, interim U.S. attorney following Schieffer's resignation, explained that the raid was part of an "ongoing investigation." Again, a p o r t i o n of the institute was c o r d o n e d off with yellow evidence tape. And again Hill City residents rushed d o w n Main Street to protest. Journal reporter H u g h O' Gara noted that by 10:00 AM, the nearby Heart of the Hills Convenience Store was o u t of cardboard delivery boxes. "Residents h a d c o m m a n d e e r e d the boxes to fashion i m p r o m p t u protest signs." "IS T H I S AN ANNUAL EVENT?" read o n e sign. "YOUR TAX D O L LARS AT WORK," read another. O'Gara reported the following conversation between two of the protesters: " H o w do you spell 'seizure'?" "You would think you would k n o w by now." Duffy was o u t of t o w n for the raid. On his r e t u r n he claimed that the raid was illegal. He called the search w a r r a n t "Jurassic Farce," a play on the title of the just-released blockbuster movie a b o u t dinosaurs, Jurassic Park. C o n t i n u i n g the m o t i o n picture t h e m e , he called the agents the "Keystone Cops of paleontology."

136

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Larson, w h o h a d been in Japan on business w h e n the FBI came, could only scratch his head. "I can't u n d e r s t a n d why the D e p a r t m e n t of Justice feels it necessary to spend all this m o n e y simply to destroy o u r business," he said. Mayor Vitter was equally confused. Were the Larsons and Farrar, as most people in Hill City t h o u g h t , scientist-entrepreneurs w h o were c o m m i t t e d to uplifting a n d educating while m a k i n g a living? Or were they felons? At times it seemed that the U.S. attorney was treating t h e m as if they were mafiosi r u n n i n g s o m e sinister criminal enterprise with the institute as a front. Larson seemed like a nice guy with his visits to schools, but, t h e n again, D o n Corleone had been a loving grandfather as well as a godfather. "I feel either we have the three worst criminals in South Dakota or the federal g o v e r n m e n t is wasting its time," the mayor said following the raid. "It would be best for the t o w n of Hill City to either charge these people a n d get it d o n e or leave the case alone."

8

YOU

CAN

HAM

INDICT A

SANDWICH

"Four million eight hundred thousand." Unlike Peter Larson, Dr. Dale Russell was not amazed by t h e numbers. He and his colleagues from t h e North Carolina State Museum of Natural History had come to New York prepared to spend considerably more to win Sue. No one had ever paid anywhere near this much for a fossil. Why wasn't Russell surprised? The specimen was superb, he would later explain. But t h e r e was more than t h a t : "All t h e attention. All t h e lore. All t h e stories. Even though they aren't happy, they are stories. [They made Sue] like poor King Tut in his t o m b . " While the g o v e r n m e n t continued to search for fossils at the institute, Peter Larson c o n t i n u e d to search for t h e m in the field a n d t h r o u g h , for lack of a better t e r m , his field representatives. T h e affidavits s u p p o r t i n g the government's search warrants alleged that the Larsons were operating a multistate criminal enterprise. T h e institute's activities did extend beyond the borders of South Dakota. Institute crews c o n d u c t e d digs in nearby states as well as South America. Specimens were sold to institutions a r o u n d the c o u n t r y a n d a r o u n d the world. And Larson periodically traveled across state lines to b u y fossils from a m a t e u r a n d professional collectors. Was there any criminal activity involved in Larson's "collection" business?

137

138

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Larson didn't seem to be hiding anything. In the midst of the gove r n m e n t ' s investigation, he invited journalist Greg Breining to accompany h i m on o n e of his multistate business trips. Breining later chronicled the trip in an article for Wyoming Wildlife magazine. On a wintry day, reporter a n d subject climbed into Larson's rusting Chevy Suburban a n d headed west. They sped across the o p e n highway into Wyoming, where Larson pointed o u t the M o r r i s o n F o r m a t i o n , in which Othniel C. M a r s h h a d found b r o n t o s a u r s , a n d the Lance Creek Formation, where o n e of Larson's heroes, John Bell Hatcher, enjoyed remarkable success in the late n i n e t e e n t h century. Hatcher grew up in Iowa. To earn m o n e y for college, he worked in a coal m i n e . Fossils were plentiful there, a n d he soon became fascinated with things paleontological. After graduating from Yale in 1884, he asked Professor M a r s h for a job. M a r s h sent h i m to Kansas to work with Charles H. Sternberg. Soon, however, Hatcher b e c a m e an independent collector for Marsh. Hatcher is p e r h a p s best k n o w n for his discoveries of the skulls of the h o r n e d dinosaurs, such as Triceratops. He found the first such skull on record while digging in M o n t a n a in 1888. In W y o m i n g the next year, Hatcher ran across a rancher w h o told h i m of a strange, huge, h o r n e d skull he h a d found. T h e rancher had tried to lasso the fossil a n d drag it back to his h o m e , b u t the h o r n h a d broken off. Hatcher sent the h o r n to Marsh in New Haven a n d p r o m p t l y received instructions to find the rest of the skull. He did, a n d the fossil b e c a m e the type specimen of the d i n o s a u r Marsh called Triceratops horridus ("terrifying t h r e e - h o r n e d face"). F r o m 1889 to 1892, Hatcher m i n e d the W y o m i n g formations for m o r e dinosaurs. He found a b o u t 50 h o r n e d skulls in all, most of t h e m complete. Hatcher could find the small as well as the large. Near Lance Creek he found over 800 teeth of small m a m m a l s of the Cretaceous period. On o n e day alone, he found 87 teeth as he sifted t h r o u g h the dirt. T h e sheer n u m b e r of specimens wowed scientists. Some years later Hatcher revealed the secret of his success: He looked for the small fossils near anthills. Red ants apparently cleared the bones o u t of the way before building their h o m e s . T h e y t h e n stacked t h e m (as well as gravel) on t o p of the hills, p e r h a p s to protect against the rain or w i n d .

YOU

CAN

INDICT

A

HAM

SANDWICH

139

Like m a n y of Marsh's collectors, Hatcher eventually grew u n h a p p y with their business a r r a n g e m e n t . He left W y o m i n g for New Jersey in 1893 to become curator of vertebrate paleontology at Princeton. Later, after a stint at the Carnegie M u s e u m in Pittsburgh, he went looking for m o r e prehistoric m a m m a l s in South America. Wilford calls the expedition "the stuff of which legends are m a d e — and Hatcher is legendary in vertebrate paleontology." T h e Hatcher p a r t y once spent five m o n t h s in the hinterlands w i t h o u t seeing anyone else. W h e n m o n e y ran out, Hatcher w o u l d venture into the closest t o w n a n d find or start a game of poker. Invariably, he w o n e n o u g h m o n e y to keep the expedition afloat. T h e locals didn't always appreciate his success at the table. After o n e particularly fruitful evening, Hatcher h a d to d r a w his gun to make a safe exit with his winnings. Hatcher eventually returned to the United States. In 1904 he went west to finish a book on the h o r n e d dinosaurs. There he contracted typhoid fever from which he never recovered. He died that year at the age of 43. Larson did not expect to find any h o r n e d dinosaurs on his trip to Wyoming. Instead, bats a n d birds were on his wish list. After several h o u r s on the road, he stopped in Rock Springs. There, he h o p e d to b u y a rare bat from a m a n a n d his sons w h o collected in the sediments of the Green River. W h e n Breining looked at the specimen, he observed, " T h e bat is simply the hint of a shape in a slab of limestone, a little l u m p barely larger t h a n a walnut. Few people w o u l d t h i n k anything of it at all." But Larson had. W h e n first shown the fossil a year earlier, Larson h a d b o r r o w e d it and arranged for X rays. T h e wings were clearly visible in the negatives. Unfortunately, on this day, the o w n e r wanted m o r e for the bat t h a n Larson was willing to pay. Larson a n d Breining left e m p t y - h a n d e d . In Thayne, W y o m i n g , Larson called on a h u s b a n d a n d wife t e a m that also collected in the Green River sediments. T h e couple o w n e d a rock s h o p a n d sold fossils to m u s e u m s a r o u n d the world, including the Smithsonian. T h e y showed Larson a n o t h e r slab of limestone, this o n e containing a fossil of a bird. Again, the fossil was barely visible. W h e n Larson held it up to the light, however, Breining observed that "shadows accentuate the wispy edges of feathers." Larson told the reporter that without skilled collectors like this couple, scientists w o u l d never get the

140

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

o p p o r t u n i t y to see n u m e r o u s quality fossils like the bird. Unable to strike a deal for the bird, Larson drove on. In Kemmerer, W y o m i n g , Larson did acquire a specimen—at least temporarily. A collector there h a d found a large slab with the remains of a creature the size of a small cat. Larson asked h i m where he had found it. On private land with the permission of the owner, the finder told h i m . Assured that it had been collected legally, Larson agreed to take the piece back to Hill City, where he would remove the skeleton from the rock a n d try to identify it. At that point, he a n d the finder would try to agree on a purchase price. Before leaving Kemmerer, Larson also paid a visit to Ulrich's Fish Fossil Gallery. Breining reported that tension existed between the Ulrichs a n d other collectors in the area because the Ulrichs opposed liberalization of regulations governing commercial collecting on private lands. "I d o n ' t agree that any of the rare species should be sold," Wallace Ulrich told Breining. "They are the p r o p e r t y of the schoolchildren." Breining wrote that Larson "snorted in disgust" after leaving the gallery. T h e collector w h o gave Larson the slab to take h o m e was subsequently arrested for and pleaded guilty to m i s d e m e a n o r theft of gove r n m e n t p r o p e r t y for collecting "minifish" on BLM property. He was fined $1025. Larson had n o t h i n g to do with this incident, but it d e m o n strated the danger inherent in his line of work a n d also in his way of c o n d u c t i n g business. As a m i d d l e m a n , he ran the risk of acquiring illegally collected fossils. This risk was c o m p o u n d e d by his willingness to accept the word of those selling h i m specimens. He trusted t h e m to be honest w h e n they told h i m where they found their fossils. It remained to be seen w h e t h e r the g o v e r n m e n t w o u l d hold h i m responsible for u n k n o w i n g l y purchasing illegally collected fossils a n d then reselling t h e m or would allege that he had d o n e so knowingly. Bakker describes Larson as a " c o n t e m p o r a r y Billy Budd, totally w i t h o u t guile." T h e Larson that Bakker, Hendrickson, and m a n y others knew refused to see the potential for malfeasance or even misfeasance in others. He knew his w o r d was good, so he assumed the word of others was good as well. As a result, he almost always sealed deals with a h a n d shake rather t h a n a contract. This practice did not always serve h i m well, as the failed deal for the duck-bill with the Viennese m u s e u m a n d the debacle with Maurice Williams so clearly d e m o n s t r a t e d .

YOU

CAN

INDICT

A

HAM

SANDWICH

141

Larson's apparent faith in the goodness of his fellow h u m a n s was usually well placed. The painful experience with Sue was the exception, while the joyous experience with Stan was the rule. T h u s , w h e n Stan Sacrison called a few weeks after the Sue II raid to say he'd discovered s o m e bones, Larson h o p p e d in his truck a n d headed to Buffalo. Soon he had an a n n o u n c e m e n t . "We welcome back Duffy to the land of the living," Larson told the Journal. No, Patrick Duffy h a d n o t died a n d c o m e back to life. This Duffy was Sacrison's latest find, a Tyrannosaurus rex w h o m Larson n a m e d in h o n o r of the institute's "tenacious" lawyer. Over the F o u r t h of July weekend, Sacrison h a d been h u n t i n g dinosaurs on the private ranch where he h a d found Stan. There, on top of a steep butte, he had spied s o m e ribs a n d vertebrae a n d a pelvic b o n e within s h o u t i n g distance of the cliff where he had discovered the dinosaur w h o b o r e his n a m e . Certain this t i m e that the bones were not Triceratops, he h a d quickly called Larson. Within a week, a crew of 12 was excavating the institute's third T. rex in just over two years. Larson noted that the institute's good fortune in finding Sue, Stan, and n o w Duffy suggested that T. rex m a y not have been so rare as s o m e scientists speculated. He added that if the institute could afford to send a crew into the field for an entire s u m m e r , it could find a n e w T. rex every year. Heavy t h u n d e r s t o r m s h a m p e r e d the crew, as did the m u d the storms beget. Still, after a b o u t a week, Neal Larson a n n o u n c e d that they had already found a b o u t 25 percent of the skeleton, including s o m e skull bones, half of its backbone, a n d b o t h of its shoulder blades. Duffy, therefore, qualified as a major find—the fifteenth T. rex ever u n e a r t h e d . Peter Larson was quick to p o i n t out that only o n e of these significant discoveries had been m a d e by a degreed paleontologist, a not-so-subtle dig at the SVP's efforts to restrict a m a t e u r s and others associated with commercial collectors. Duffy the dinosaur, like Duffy the lawyer, attracted a good deal of media attention. Writers from Holland and Scandinavia came to Buffalo. Japan's Gakken Dinosaur Magazine also sent a team led by Yoshio Ito of the National Science M u s e u m to cover the excavation. This magazine had already published a story by Ito about Sue, as had magazines t h r o u g h o u t Europe. "Sue ou l'Affaire du Tyrannosaure," read one French headline.

142

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

"Dinosaurier in 'Lebensgefahr': Rechsstreit um Besitzanspruche an 65 Millionen Jahre altem Fossil," t r u m p e t e d a G e r m a n paper. "Steen des Aanstots uit de Prehistoric," reported a Dutch newspaper; a photograph of Wentz standing behind S u e s skull accompanied the article. All m a n n e r of the American press was equally engaged. Nova, the a w a r d - w i n n i n g Public Broadcasting System science show, sent a film crew to the dig, as did the less h i g h b r o w Hard Copy. Publications ranging from National Geographic to the National Enquirer also ran stories o n dinosaurs. "Grave Robbers Are Stealing America's D i n o s a u r Treasures," warned the Enquirer. T h e article that followed began: " T h e hit movie Jurassic Park has boosted public interest in dinosaurs to an all-time h i g h — a n d has also s p a w n e d a m u l t i m i l l i o n dollar c r i m e wave! G u n - t o t i n g d i n o s a u r rustlers are illegally digging up a n d selling fossils to private collectors for up to $5 million apiece." Neither Sue n o r the Larsons were m e n t i o n e d , b u t the Enquirer q u o t e d a paleontologist from the Utah State Bureau of Land M a n a g e m e n t w h o said, "It was r u m o r e d recently that a large carnivorous d i n o s a u r was offered to a Japanese bank for $5 million." T h e Enquirer also reported the sale of a stegosaurus to a "Japanese interest" for m o r e t h a n $1 million. This was m o r e than r u m o r . In July 1993 the Associated Press reported that a Utah company, Western Paleo Lab, acknowledged that it had shipped a complete stegosaurus skeleton to Asia. According to the company's Jeff Parker, "a g r o u p of individuals" had hired Western Paleo Lab to prepare the speci m e n , which had been found on private land in W y o m i n g . Parker said that a Japanese c o m p a n y h a d purchased it for a m u s e u m that it spons o r e d — t h e Hayashibara M u s e u m in Okayama. U n d e r the terms of the sale, the specimen was to be m a d e available for scientific description. M a n y A m e r i c a n scientists were outraged by the sale. "It would be totally u n t h i n k a b l e for us to sell bones to Japan," D o n Burge of the College of Eastern Utah's Prehistoric M u s e u m told the AP. T h e scientific c o m m u n i t y ' s criticism of the sale of one-of-a-kind fossils to private collectors at h o m e or a b r o a d was understandable; in such h a n d s , these specimens m i g h t never be studied. But why the outcry if a fossil went from America to a foreign m u s e u m ? For decades A m e r i c a n m u s e u m s h a d been digging a n d collecting abroad, often in t h i r d - w o r l d countries. In recent years, these m u s e u m s h a d entered into

YOU

CAN

INDICT

A

HAM

SANDWICH

143

contracts that assured those countries retention of o w n e r s h i p of the specimens. Still, the bones often e n d e d up in the United States for years so they could be studied and, often, displayed. Should U.S. m u s e u m s be criticized for robbing these nations of their national treasures? "There's definitely a d o u b l e standard here," says Robert Bakker. Why? "Can you spell 'jingoism'?" he asks. " T h e high priests of American paleontology see a 'yellow peril.'" Bakker notes that Jim M a d s e n , a U t a h based paleontologist, m a d e sure his allosaur finds went to m u s e u m s in several countries. "They're being studied in 20 languages," Bakker says. "And that's good." In the meantime, tons and tons of bones discovered in America sit in m u s e u m or university storage facilities here, says Bakker. "The institutions simply don't have the funds to prepare t h e m or the space to display them," Bakker explains. He notes that it takes about 20 days to prepare a specimen in the lab for every day spent in the field finding and excavating it. T h e cost versus benefit of keeping a crew in Buffalo eventually forced Larson to make a tough decision. By the end of the second week at the site, the crew had not found Duffy's legs, pelvis, a n d large tailbones. Most of the skull remained missing as well. T h e inability to find these bones was particularly frustrating because all signs pointed to their presence at the site. For example, the discovery of large teeth, c o m plete with roots, indicated that the skull was s o m e w h e r e nearby. Larson reluctantly halted the dig. " T h e rest of the d i n o s a u r could be 1 inch from where we stopped digging or 50 feet," he told the Associated Press. He stressed that he wasn't giving up. He h o p e d to enlist an oil c o m p a n y to provide special e q u i p m e n t that used electronic imagery to measure differences in the density of the soil. "Bone is generally less dense t h a n rock," he said. "We just need to have s o m e t h i n g that gives us a direction to go in." Larson had h o p e d that he could refine his theories a b o u t sexual d i m o r p h i s m in T. rex by studying Duffy a n d Stan together. Duffy appeared to be a subadult a n d even smaller t h a n the gracile Stan, w h o m Larson believed was a male. At this point, however, Duffy was t o o incomplete to shed m u c h light on the subject. Incomplete as he or she was, Duffy did shed light on Larson's t h e o ry a b o u t the social habits of T. rex. T h e fossil h a d been found within a quarter of a mile of Stan. T h e two d i n o s a u r s ' positions in the strata were

144

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

similar, indicating that they could have lived at the same time. This appeared to s u p p o r t the t h e o r y that T. rex was n o t a solitary predator b u t rather lived in a family unit. Duffy's discovery c a m e at the same t i m e that Jurassic Park was breaking box office records a n d triggering even greater interest in dinosaurs. In the movie, scientists use 65-million-year-old dinosaur D N A to bring back the long-extinct creatures. This raises the question: C o u l d Larson have taken D N A samples from Stan a n d Duffy or from Sue a n d D a d a n d Junior a n d Baby to d e t e r m i n e if they were actually family? "It is possible to get DNA from s o m e of the bones," Larson says. "We h a d talked a b o u t d o i n g that with Sue. There are s o m e labs that w o u l d do it. But Sue was seized before we had a chance." At the same t i m e Larson told the Associated Press that he was temporarily a b a n d o n i n g the Duffy dig, he vented his frustration over the criminal investigation. "They're going to arrest us. They're going to b r i n g charges in the next couple of m o n t h s , " Larson told the reporter whose n a m e , p e r h a p s fittingly, was Kafka (Joe, that is). "And then we'll have o u r day in court. O u r fate will rest with 12 h u m a n beings at least." Larson added that he had been optimistic that Karen Schreier's n o m i n a t i o n as U.S. attorney would have p u t an end to the investigation. But the June raid had destroyed the h o p e that Kevin Schieffer's departure would stop the nonsense. "What's h a p p e n e d is they've spent so m u c h m o n e y on this n o w that they can't back out," Larson continued. "They're o u t for blood. They've got to get us because their jobs are on the line." T h e n for o n e of the few times in the 16 m o n t h s since the seizure, Larson revealed his e m o t i o n s in public. " I ' m so tired of all this," he confessed. "It'll be a relief w h e n they bring charges. This back r o o m i n n u e n d o a n d all this other crap is really getting old." T h e institute c o n d u c t e d a b o u t 20 percent of its business with Japanese m u s e u m s , so p e r h a p s it was inevitable that the i n n u e n d o w o u l d eventually extend to Asia. In late September 1993, Assistant U.S. A t t o r n e y Ted M c B r i d e , L a u r i e Bryant, a p a l e o n t o l o g i s t for t h e D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior, a n d Douglas Rand, of the U.S. C u s t o m s Service flew to Japan. There they spent 11 days talking with institute clients a n d the Japanese authorities. T h e trip infuriated the Larsons a n d Duffy. N o t only was it unnecessary, they argued, it was punitive—a frightening example of the g o v e r n m e n t using its vast resources to

YOU

CAN

INDICT

A

HAM

SANDWICH

145

destroy the little guy by intimidating those on w h o m he relies to conduct his business. By chance Neal Larson had been in Japan setting up a dinosaur display at a m u s e u m when the government investigators arrived in Tokyo. He saw faxes regarding the investigation a n d contacted his brother back h o m e . About the same time, a Japanese client sent Peter Larson a copy of a 17-page U.S. Justice D e p a r t m e n t m e m o r a n d u m i n t r o d u c i n g the McBride team to the Japanese Ministry of Justice. "Fossils, which are p r o tected u n d e r the law as cultural objects, were stolen from America and Peru," the m e m o asserted. T h e Justice D e p a r t m e n t noted three suspect specimens sold by the institute to Japanese c u s t o m e r s — a Triceratops found on the Cheyenne River Sioux Reservation, a Triceratops found on the Standing Rock Reservation, a n d a baleen whale found in Peru. Duffy called the m e m o "a lie, a wicked fabrication" a n d t h e n let loose a litany of p o p culture references. "Robert Ludlum couldn't keep up with this conspiracy," he told the Journal. "There isn't a criminal m i n d short of Lex Luthor w h o could keep up with this." He added: "It's a perfect meld of Jurassic Park a n d Rising Sun

W h a t it boils d o w n to

is that Ted McBride thinks he's Wesley Snipes." In the newly released movie Rising Sun, actor Snipes played a Los Angeles cop w h o went to Japan to investigate a m u r d e r . Duffy was incensed that s o m e o n e had leaked the m e m o to o n e of the institute's customers. "If that isn't defamation, I don't k n o w what is," he said. "My clients have never h a d the chance to defend themselves against this international smear campaign. It's paleontological McCarthyism, plain and simple

This is the way people are p u t o u t of business by the

D e p a r t m e n t of Justice." After being contacted by the McBride team, o n e Japanese client had already told Larson that it was wary of c o n t i n u i n g to buy fossils from h i m with this cloud hanging overhead. For the second time in a little m o r e t h a n a m o n t h , Larson publicly aired his anger. He told the Pierre Capitol Journal that there was no need for the McBride party's costly trip overseas. "We a n d the Japanese have already provided the U.S. g o v e r n m e n t with information on all the specimens they are supposedly investigating in Japan," he said. "It's like they [the government] k n o w we're bad. They k n o w we're evil. T h e y just want to destroy us any way they can. But they aren't charging us with anything because once they do, then we have r i g h t s — t o see their allega-

146

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

tions, to look at their alleged evidence. If we go d o w n , we're going to go d o w n fighting. But they're never going to destroy us." W i t h the Justice D e p a r t m e n t already u n d e r fire for its raid on the Branch Davidian c o m p o u n d in Waco, Texas, Duffy intoned: "I do not want Peter Larson to b e c o m e the David Koresh of paleontology." He echoed his client's sentiments that it was t i m e for the U.S. attorney to end the investigation a n d bring the inevitable indictments. "I just wish we could get t h e m into court," Duffy said. "Let t h e m bring their best lawyers from W a s h i n g t o n — b y the G r e y h o u n d busload if that's what they want. Right n o w we're stuck in a n e t h e r world." So was Sue. T h u s , on O c t o b e r 11, the three-judge panel from the Eighth Circuit heard oral a r g u m e n t s in the institute's appeal of Judge Battey's o w n e r s h i p ruling. Three years a n d two m o n t h s had passed since Sue had been discovered. Eighteen m o n t h s h a d passed since she had been seized a n d stored at the School of Mines. "Regardless of what h a p pens, paleontologists on b o t h sides agree that this is a tragedy," Duffy told the court. Six weeks later the grand jury e n d e d the institute's stay in the nether world. "Hill City Fossil H u n t e r s Indicted," a n n o u n c e d the Journal on the day before Thanksgiving, 1993. T h e 33-page, 39-count i n d i c t m e n t n a m e d the Black Hills Institute itself, Peter Larson, Neal Larson, Bob Farrar, a n d Terry Wentz as defend a n t s . Eddie Cole, the Utah fossil collector, a n d his wife Ava were also charged for their alleged role in o n e transaction, as was a Californian with w h o m the institute h a d d o n e business. O n e h u n d r e d f i f t y four separate offenses—148 felonies a n d 6 m i s d e m e a n o r s — w e r e alleged. If convicted of all crimes, Peter Larson faced up to 353 years in prison a n d $13.35 million in fines. W h a t had Larson a n d his partners done? On its cover page, the indictment listed the following crimes in capital letters: "CONSPIRACY, ENTRY OF G O O D S BY MEANS OF FALSE STATEMENT, T H E F T OF G O V E R N M E N T PROPERTY, FALSE STATEMENTS, WIRE FRAUD, O B S T R U C T I O N OF JUSTICE, M O N E Y LAUNDERING, INTERSTATE T R A N S P O R T A T I O N O F STOLEN G O O D S , S T R U C T U R I N G a n d C M I R [Currency or M o n e t a r y I n s t r u m e n t s Reporting] VIOLATION." The fossil hunters may not have w o r n suits and ties to the office, but as Mandel would later say, "This was basically white-collar crime." The

YOU

CAN

INDICT

A

HAM

SANDWICH

147

institute defendants were charged with 14 separate instances of illegally collecting fossils. But the majority of the alleged offenses were related to what the Larsons and their partners did after they collected the fossils. As portrayed by the government, the defendants engaged in a sophisticated conspiracy to commit fraudulent criminal activity that included everything from falsifying d o c u m e n t s about where the fossils had been obtained to laundering m o n e y gained from the sale of fossils to violating customs regulations. The conspiracy extended from Hill City to Peru and Japan. H o w m a n y of these counts were related to Sue? N o n e . Sue was n o t even m e n t i o n e d in the i n d i c t m e n t . The irony of this was not lost on Larson. T h e government had justified seizing Sue because she constituted evidence necessary for its criminal investigation. In its first o p i n i o n the Eighth Circuit had clearly stated that the government didn't need the bones to carry out that investigation. T h e n the government had admitted that the Antiquities Act—the statute it had principally relied on in securing the initial w a r r a n t — d i d not apply to this case. N o w the prosecutors themselves were acknowledging that there was no criminal w r o n g d o i n g with respect to the collection of the celebrated fossil. Larson could only w o n d e r what would have h a p p e n e d if the government had never taken Sue. Would Williams or the D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior or the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe have filed a civil lawsuit to gain possession of her from the institute? T h e fossils that were listed in the i n d i c t m e n t included several Triceratops, duck-bills, mosasaurs, whales, turtles, a m m o n i t e , crinoids, and catfish. They had allegedly been collected illegally from p u b l i c — federal, tribal, a n d s t a t e — a n d private lands in South Dakota, W y o m i n g , M o n t a n a , a n d Nebraska. S o m e of these fossils h a d been sold to the Smithsonian Institution a n d the Field M u s e u m . Such illegal activity dated back to 1983, the i n d i c t m e n t charged. A few examples:

In 1984 and 1985, "principals, agents, or employees" of the institute allegedly went on U.S. Forest Service land—Gallatin National Forest—in Montana, and collected fossil remains of crinoids. In 1989, the Larson b r o t h e r s allegedly went on Standing Rock Sioux Reservation land near C o r s o n , South Dakota, a n d collected fossil remains of a Triceratops.

148

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

In 1983, "employees or agents" of the institute allegedly went on private lands near Lantry, South Dakota, a n d obtained the fossil remains of various a m m o n i t e s w i t h o u t the permission of the owner. T h e Larsons had long maintained that they never knowingly engaged in the illegal collection, purchase, or sale of fossils; like Harvard's Dr. Jenkins, they didn't k n o w if they were collecting on federal, state, or tribal land subject to restrictions. The government didn't believe this. The indictment charged that the defendants were adept at reading maps. As part of the conspiracy, however, the defendants a n d their coconspirators "would feign ignorance of property boundaries and property ownership in places they were illegally collecting fossils." In June 1989, for example, Peter Larson and Sue Hendrickson allegedly met with an Amoco employee near Wamsutter, Wyoming. This employee showed t h e m maps that identified the location of BLM and private lands in the area. "Thereafter," the government alleged, "Peter Larson a n d Sue Hendrickson collected fossil remains, including a turtle from lands that were clearly marked as Bureau of Land M a n a g e m e n t lands on the m a p shown to them." T h e conspiracy was alleged to have extended beyond fossils personally collected by institute personnel: " T h e defendants and coconspirators w h e n purchasing fossils from other collectors would deliberately avoid gaining information regarding the location a n d details of illegal collection w h e n they knew or suspected that the fossils were illegally collected." T h e defendants' deviousness went b e y o n d feigning ignorance. According to the i n d i c t m e n t , "when dealing with others, [the defendants] would emphasize the educational a n d scientific benefits to be derived from their fossil-related activities a n d m i n i m i z e or conceal the commercial benefit a n d personal e c o n o m i c gain to themselves." In 1988, for example, Larson allegedly collected the remains of a m a s t o d o n , camel, a n d three-toed horse from private land in Nebraska "by giving the l a n d o w n e r s the false impression that the items were being collected for d o n a t i o n to universities a n d m u s e u m s . " In addition to naive landowners, the defendants d u p e d the governm e n t , universities, foreign c o r p o r a t i o n s a n d m u s e u m s , according to the government:

YOU

CAN

INDICT

A

HAM

SANDWICH

149

Item: In 1987, the institute p a r t n e r s had i m p o r t e d a baleen whale fossil from Peru and "entered it into the c o m m e r c e of the United States." T h e y did so by m e a n s of a "false a n d fraudulent declaration [that] . . . the whale was of scientific value only a n d no commercial value," w h e n they well k n e w that the whale was of "domestic commercial value" in excess of $10,000. Item: In 1992 ( d u r i n g the U.S. attorney's investigation), a c o m pany in Okayama, Japan, that was developing a natural history m u s e u m arranged to purchase a Triceratops skull from the institute for $125,000. O n e of the purchaser's r e q u i r e m e n t s was that the institute issue a certificate that the fossil was excavated from private land a n d was, therefore, commercially tradable. T h e institute issued such a certificate despite the fact that the fossil was excavated from Sharkey Williams's land "held in trust by the United States for the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe." This was the specimen the institute was digging up on the p r o p e r t y of Maurice Williams's brother w h e n Sue was found.

The exhaustive investigation of the Larsons uncovered several alleged customs-related violations as well. Peter Larson was accused of failing to declare $31,700 in travelers checks carried from Japan to the United States. He was also charged with taking $15,000 in cash from Hill City to Peru without filling out the required United States Customs forms. The institute was also accused of knowingly undervaluing two fossil shipments to Japan. Finally, the U.S. attorney did not forget Neal Larson's desperate, preraid attempt to change the dates on boxes of fossils. This, said C o u n t XXXVII, was obstruction of justice. A n o t h e r c o u n t accused b o t h of the Larsons a n d Farrar with concealing or failing to p r o d u c e records the government had s u b p o e n a e d . The defendants were served the i n d i c t m e n t s on N o v e m b e r 23, b u t they were not arrested. T h e y were to be arraigned on D e c e m b e r 15. Duffy, w h o represented the Larsons, Farrar, Wentz, a n d the institute, said his clients would plead n o t guilty. He d e m e a n e d the prosecution. "In this c o u n t r y you can indict a h a m sandwich," he said. As promised, at the a p p o i n t e d t i m e the defendants pleaded n o t guilty to all charges. But D e c e m b e r 15 was n o t w i t h o u t its surprise.

150

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Purely by chance, on the same day the Larsons were arraigned, the Eighth Circuit ruled on the appeal of Judge Battey's decision that had denied the institute ownership (and possession) of Sue. Peter Larson held his breath as he waited for Duffy to relay the court's o p i n i o n . C h r i s t m a s was only ten days away. T h e U.S. attorney h a d already filled his stocking with fossil fuel (coal). T h e Eighth Circuit could go a long way to m a k i n g this a h a p p y holiday—in spite of the i n d i c t m e n t s — i f it ruled that Sue should be h o m e for Christmas.

9

NEGOTIATIONS UNDER

ARE

WAY

"Five million dollars." Larson knew that the top paleontologists from several museums had visited Sotheby's before the auction to observe the condition of Sue's bones. "Damn," he said. "They must think we did a terrific job with her." Maybe there was still a chance. If a dinosaur falls on the land and n o b o d y sees it, is it still a dinosaur? Judge Magill said the Eighth Circuit had to make the following decision: " W h e t h e r the fossil was personal property or land before Black Hills excavated it." As federal statutes regulated Williams's p r o p erty, the court looked to Congress for a definition of "land." Finding no applicable definition, Magill, like Battey, t u r n e d to South Dakota p r o p erty law for guidance. He concluded: We hold that the fossil was "land." . . . Sue Hendrickson found the fossil e m b e d d e d in the land. U n d e r South Dakota law, the fossil was an "ingredient" comprising part of the "solid material of the earth." It was a c o m p o n e n t part of Williams's land just like the soil, the rocks, and whatever other naturally occurring materials make up the earth of the r a n c h . . . . That the fossil was once a dinosaur which walked on the surface of the earth and that part of the fossil was p r o t r u d i n g from the g r o u n d when

151

152

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Hendrickson discovered it are irrelevant. T h e salient point is that the fossil h a d for millions of years been an "ingredient" of the earth that the United States holds in trust for Williams. The case might very well be different had s o m e o n e found the fossil elsewhere a n d b u r i e d it in Williams's land or s o m e h o w inadvertently left it there. Here, however, a Tyrannosaurus rex died s o m e 65 million years ago on what is n o w Indian trust land and its fossilized remains gradually became incorporated into that land. . . . We hold that the United States holds Sue in trust for Williams. " W h a t a vicious bit of irony that this decision comes on the day they [the Larsons] are arraigned on 39 counts," said Duffy. T h e institute w o u l d appeal the decision to the United States S u p r e m e C o u r t , he said. Judge Battey set the criminal trial for February 22,1994. It began on January 10, 1995. T h e 13 m o n t h s following the a r r a i g n m e n t were filled with public recriminations, private negotiations, a n d m o t i o n u p o n motion. T h e institute fired the first shot. On January 6, 1994, three weeks after the a r r a i g n m e n t , the Larson brothers each filed m o t i o n s asking Judge Battey to recuse himself (step d o w n ) from the trial. They argued that his c o m m e n t s d u r i n g the custody hearing m o n t h s earlier suggested that he favored the prosecution a n d already believed the defendants guilty. In particular, the Larsons cited the judge's remarks that they had probably obstructed justice. T h e g o v e r n m e n t fired back the very next day. Assistant U.S. Attorney Zuercher filed a m o t i o n to disqualify Duffy from the trial. Zuercher asserted that Duffy had a conflict of interest because earlier in the case he represented other defendants a n d witnesses. Zuercher wanted Gary Colbath, w h o represented Sue H e n d r i c k s o n , disqualified as well. Colbath was n o w representing the institute's Terry Wentz. The Larsons were furious. Peter Larson argued that the government was a t t e m p t i n g to deny h i m his Sixth A m e n d m e n t right to the attorney of his choice. Zuercher responded that the right to choose one's o w n attorney is n o t absolute. Judge Battey refused to step d o w n a n d refused to disqualify Duffy. Privately, s o m e of Larson's s u p p o r t e r s were disappointed that Duffy

NEGOTIATIONS

ARE

UNDER

WAY

153

would remain. Hendrickson a n d others t h o u g h t Duffy might not be the best lawyer for the task a n d that, at the very least, he needed s o m e help from m o r e seasoned practitioners. They reasoned that he had enjoyed little success to date a n d h a d alienated the g o v e r n m e n t a n d the judge with several p u b l i c p r o n o u n c e m e n t s . Bill M a t h e r s , a friend of Hendrickson, had found a p r o m i n e n t Washington, D C , law f i r m that was apparently willing to u n d e r t a k e the defense pro b o n o publico ("for the good of the public"—at no charge to the client). "There were a lot of excellent attorneys w h o were outraged by the government's behavior," says Hendrickson. She believes that famous defense lawyer Gerry Spence might have been persuaded to help with the case if Larson h a d given permission to p u r s u e h i m . But Duffy didn't seem to be interested in outside assistance, a n d the intensely loyal Larson was n o t a b o u t to remove h i m . "Pat a n d I have been in this together since the beginning," he told the Journal's Harlan. "I think he's the only o n e w h o can adequately defend me." In mid-February, Duffy went back to c o u r t — t h i s t i m e in c o n n e c tion with the civil proceedings for possession of Sue. As the S u p r e m e C o u r t was u n d e r no obligation to hear an appeal a n d the o d d s of the court o v e r t u r n i n g the Eighth Circuit were slim anyway, Duffy decided that the time was right to get s o m e t h i n g in return for Sue. He therefore filed a mechanic's lien on the fossil. Such liens are generally filed by w o r k m e n w h o have not been paid for their labor on a piece of p r o p e r ty. The institute's lien was for $209,000—about $35 per h o u r for 5630 h o u r s spent finding, excavating, a n d preparing Sue. This case was eventually dismissed. So, too, was the Cheyenne River Sioux's suit for the T. rex in tribal court, bringing Williams o n e step closer to gaining Sue. As the s u m m e r wore on, so, too, did pretrial m o t i o n s in the criminal case. "Feds Want Fossil Trial in Aberdeen," a n n o u n c e d the Journal on July 27. " D u e to b o t h the volume a n d n a t u r e of the publicity in this case, the United States argues that it would be difficult, if n o t impossible, to secure an unbiased panel of jurors in the Western Division," said Zuercher and Mandel. T h e Western Division included Rapid City, h o m e of the Journal, which by the prosecutors' c o u n t h a d r u n at least 135 news stories about the case in the 26 m o n t h s since the seizure. An exhibit accompanying the m o t i o n included editorials a n d letters to the editor that criticized the prosecutors' h a n d l i n g of the case.

154

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Duffy saw the m o t i o n as another "misuse of prosecutorial power." The prosecution h a d estimated that the trial could take as long as three m o n t h s . A move to Aberdeen, 300 miles to the northeast, would add $100,000 to the cost of the defense, said Larson's lawyer. A m o n g other things, the move would necessitate getting motel r o o m s for half a dozen attorneys, an equal n u m b e r of support staff, and the defendants. "It would stretch o u r supply lines to the breaking point," Duffy told the Journal. " T h e prospect of living out of a motel in Aberdeen for ten weeks didn't exactly excite me," Assistant U.S. Attorney Mandel would later say. "It's not Honolulu." But, Mandel explained, the government truly feared that it would have a difficult time finding jurors w h o hadn't been influenced by the local press's coverage of the story. He noted that his office rarely spoke to Journal reporters and those reporters rarely called his office; as a result Duffy was often able to "spin" his side of the story without rebuttal. In the days that followed the filing, the prosecutors may have wanted to a d d two m o r e Journal pieces to their exhibit. " O p e n - m i n d e d p e o ple in the Rapid City area should be insulted," began an editorial in the paper titled "Trial Should Stay Here." T h e editorial noted that m a n y of the 135 articles focused primarily on the government's confiscation of . . . Sue—even t h o u g h n o n e of the charges involve Sue. T h e implication is that the Journal's coverage of the case has already convinced m o s t people here that the accused are innocent. This is a d u b i o u s claim

But even if it were t r u e that potential jurors

are already p r e s u m i n g the defendants' innocence, what's w r o n g with that? Isn't that what juries are supposed to do, to p r e s u m e innocence a n d be convinced of guilt? In a h u m o r o u s c o l u m n a few days later, Harlan observed, "Rapid City's soft on crime r e p u t a t i o n is h u r t i n g o u r economy. For evidence look no further t h a n that . . . prosecutors asked the judge to move the t r i a l . . . t o Aberdeen." H e continued: Normally, this is the p a r a g r a p h w h e r e I w o u l d explain what t h e . . . trial is a b o u t , b u t a p p a r e n t l y I d o n ' t have to do that.

NEGOTIATIONS

ARE

UNDER

WAY

155

T h e feds say the fossil case has received so m u c h publicity that everyone in Rapid City n o t only k n o w s a b o u t it, they already have an o p i n i o n a b o u t i t — n a m e l y t h a t the defendants are n o t guilty.. . . Which brings me back to m o n e y a n d why Rapid City needs to change its permissive image. Justice D e p a r t m e n t officials won't say h o w m u c h they have already spent in their three-year prosecution . . . b u t a total well into seven figures wouldn't surprise m e . After all, investigators have been to Japan, South America, a n d Europe. The trial itself... could last for m o n t h s . It could involve witnesses from all over the country—including high-salaried gove r n m e n t witnesses on lucrative per diems. The lunch trade alone could be worth thousands, and then there's dinner, motels, a n d legal pads. Heck, this case is the e c o n o m i c development equivalent of an Airstream rally. T h e e c o n o m i c development of Hill City remained on hold d u r i n g this period. S o m e tourists visited the institute, b u t the lunch t r a d e h a r d ly was w o r t h t h o u s a n d s . W h e n Larson wasn't in the field, he was h a p p y to show these visitors Stan's bones a n d Sue's skull. N o t her real skull, b u t a b r o n z e bust sculpted 1 : 8 scale by Joe T i p p m a n , an artist from Hermosa. In early August a second rendition of Sue's skull arrived in Hill City courtesy, strangely, of the very same a r m of the g o v e r n m e n t that h a d originally hauled off the real S u e — t h e South Dakota National G u a r d . The guard had been enlisted by Bancroft Elementary School in Sioux Falls. A year earlier second graders a n d 11 parents sympathetic to the institute h a d created a green, p a p i e r - m a c h e likeness of Sue's head. They wanted the Larsons to have s o m e t h i n g to r e m e m b e r the d i n o s a u r if the courts ruled against t h e m . The likeness was a bit larger t h a n Sue's real skull, a n d therein lay the problem. T h e school h a d been unable to find a m e a n s of t r a n s p o r t i n g the copy to the institute until the guard volunteered. "It's almost like the National G u a r d did its penance," said the institute's M a r i o n Zenker. "It's wonderful."

156

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Even m o r e wonderful was the discovery of a n o t h e r skull—Duffy's. In late August, Steve Sacrison had renewed the search for the bulk of the T. rex. A b o u t 40 feet from the area where the rest of the bones had been found, Sacrison discovered Duffy's lower jaw a n d part of the u p p e r jaw. Larson a n n o u n c e d that he expected they w o u l d find the rest of the skull. T h e n the commercial collector a n n o u n c e d that Duffy was not for sale. T h e fossil, which Larson believed was a three-quarters grown subadult, w o u l d be displayed in the n e w m u s e u m with S t a n — a n d Sue, if the S u p r e m e C o u r t ruled in the institute's favor. Peter Larson was sitting in Patrick Duffy's office w h e n the telephone call came. H u g h O'Gara, a staff writer for the u b i q u i t o u s Journal, was on to a big story. Was it true, O'Gara wanted to know, that a plea bargain in the criminal case was i m m i n e n t ? Larson r e m e m b e r s that Duffy confirmed the details of the negotiations. On September 20, the Journal ran o n e of its biggest headlines since the discovery of Sue: "Fossil Case Won't Go to Trial." "Hit by several recent setbacks in the celebrated 'Sue' fossil prosecution, the federal gove r n m e n t is virtually giving up the case," O ' G a r a wrote, citing "sources connected with the case." Larson has never been able to d e t e r m i n e w h o those sources were. At the t i m e the trial was set to begin on N o v e m b e r 1. But, wrote O'Gara: "Negotiations are u n d e r way that will result in the dismissal of all b u t o n e charge in the 2 8 - m o n t h - o l d federal case. . . . Preliminary negotiations call for the i n s t i t u t e — b u t n o n e of the four principals . . . — t o plead guilty to o n e felony charge that does n o t involve any of the fossils the g o v e r n m e n t has claimed were illegally collected." T h e gove r n m e n t would, however, keep all the disputed fossils it had seized from the institute. This wasn't the first t i m e the defendants a n d the government had discussed a plea bargain. But, according to Larson, up until this time prosecutors h a d always insisted that he, n o t his business, plead guilty to o n e felony a n d that he agree to 24 m o n t h s in prison. "Those t e r m s were unacceptable," according to the paleontologist, w h o maintained that he h a d d o n e no w r o n g . As the trial approached, however, several developm e n t s led the U.S. attorney's office to soften its position a n d agree to let the institute itself take the fall. On September 6, Park Service Ranger

NEGOTIATIONS

ARE

UNDER

WAY

157

Stan Robins had died. T h e g o v e r n m e n t considered h i m a key witness, as he h a d been a m o n g the first to investigate the institute. Adverse rulings by Judge Battey also forced the prosecutors to reconsider the chances of success at trial a n d reopen negotiations with the defendants. On September 8, the judge h a d denied the government's m o t i o n to move the trial to Aberdeen. A Rapid City j u r y would, in all likelihood, be sympathetic to the defendants. O'Gara's exclusive article about a settlement ended rather curiously. " T h e plea agreement u n d e r negotiation calls for no publicity by either side in the settlement." Obviously, o n e of the sides had violated that t e r m — f o r where else could O'Gara have received such detailed information? Judge Battey apparently read a b o u t the plea bargain negotiations in the paper like everyone else. He didn't like it. At a pretrial hearing the day after O'Gara's story appeared, the judge spoke. T h e Journal secured a copy of the transcript of his remarks: From what I saw in the paper, if that's the plea agreement, it's n o t a plea agreement, it's a capitulation by the g o v e r n m e n t . I am going to look very closely at w h e t h e r or n o t in any plea agreement of your client, principal officers of a closed c o r p o r a tion can escape by putting fault over on the c o r p o r a t i o n . I m a d e a decision on this. Later the judge added: I don't want to enter into a plea agreement. . . . It looks to me from what I see in filings that there are relative degrees of fault, even a m o n g the conspiracy m e m b e r s . S o m e may be marginally involved; others m a y be highly involved. But I will wait

The

last thing lawyers should be worrying a b o u t n o w is a plea agreement. Within a few days, Duffy was back in c o u r t — w o r r y i n g a b o u t the judge. For the second time, the institute's lawyer filed a m o t i o n seeking that Battey recuse himself. Duffy cited the judge's recent c o m m e n t s as further evidence that the defendants were already p r e s u m e d guilty by the m a n w h o w o u l d c o n d u c t their trial.

158

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

T h e g o v e r n m e n t was back in court, too. T h e Journal's article about the supposed plea bargain had once again c o m p r o m i s e d the government's ability to get an impartial j u r y in Rapid City, said prosecutors. T h e y again moved that the trial be moved to Aberdeen. In d o c u m e n t s filed to s u p p o r t the m o t i o n , M a n d e l asserted that the government had not offered a plea agreement. T h e Journal would later acknowledge this, stating that the article should not have given the impression that a tentative deal had been struck. " T h e r e was no offer a n d no acceptance," Mandel explained in a 1999 interview. Negotiations were proceeding, the prosecutor said, but he refused to discuss the specifics. Larson says that reporter O'Gara "had it just about right." T h e deal, however, h a d not been sealed. W h e n the story broke, Larson was trying to decide to which felony the institute w o u l d plead guilty. "I wasn't going to lie a n d say we'd d o n e something we h a d n ' t done," he explains. Did the leak to the Journal prevent a deal? "If there had been an offer a n d acceptance, I don't think it w o u l d have mattered," Mandel speculated. T h e n he added: "Was it conducive to reaching an agreement? Well, there never was o n e after this." Bob Chicoinne, Hendrickson's lawyer, doesn't k n o w w h o leaked the story, b u t he knows he would have h a n d l e d O'Gara's call differently t h a n Duffy did. "You say, ' N o c o m m e n t . ' You don't discuss the status of plea negotiations with anyone—especially the press—until you have t h e m b u t t o n e d up." Neither the g o v e r n m e n t n o r Duffy prevailed on their m o t i o n s . Judge Battey, furious with the Journal a n d w h o m e v e r had leaked the story a b o u t the plea bargain, gave serious consideration to moving the trial to Aberdeen. In the end, however, he decided that b o t h sides could get a fair trial in Rapid City. He also decided that the defendants could get a fair trial if he r e m a i n e d on the b e n c h . R u n n i n g the risk of further alienating the judge, Duffy appealed this decision to the Eighth Circuit. A three-judge panel ruled u n a n i m o u s l y that Battey need not step d o w n ; he h a d not s h o w n the high degree of bias necessary for removal. "Judge Battey [performed] precisely the type of analysis that he is required to perform in analyzing a plea agreement, albeit prematurely," wrote the court.

NEGOTIATIONS

ARE

UNDER

WAY

159

O n e of the three judges did, however, take the time to write a separate opinion. Judge C. A d e n Beam worried that Battey's remarks m i g h t have "a chilling effect" on future plea bargain attempts. He a d d e d that he h o p e d a thaw might be forthcoming. "This is a m a t t e r in which the public interest may best be served by a plea bargain," he noted. Many observers believed that the interest of the defendants w o u l d also best be served by a plea bargain a n d that o n e m i g h t have been achieved early o n — l o n g before the g o v e r n m e n t a n d the defendants expended large s u m s of m o n e y These same observers believe that the personalities a n d tactics of the principal attorneys m a d e it difficult to effect such a bargain. "Would it have settled with different lawyers?" m u s e d Mandel s o m e years after the trial. "That might have been possible. Things were very polarized from the beginning a n d that doesn't help. In all my years as a lawyer, I have never seen a case played o u t in the press like this one." Just as the Eighth Circuit ruled that Battey should stay where he was, the S u p r e m e C o u r t decided that Sue should remain where she was. T h e court denied the institute's petition to hear its appeal of the decision that, in effect, n a m e d Maurice Williams the fossil's rightful owner. Four years a n d two m o n t h s after finding the T. rex, two years a n d six m o n t h s after the seizure, Peter Larson h a d finally exhausted his legal remedies to win back the find of his lifetime. Conventional love stories are played o u t in three acts. Act O n e : Boy meets girl a n d they fall in love. Act Two: Boy loses girl. Act Three: Boy gets girl back. Act Two in this m o s t unconventional love story was n o w officially over. Larson's ability to get Sue back n o w lay in the h a n d s (or m o r e p r o p erly the wallet) of Maurice Williams, not the judicial system. Williams still wasn't sure what he wanted to do with the tons of bones sitting at the School of Mines. He had received offers for Sue, b u t he wasn't certain that he wanted to sell her. "I h a d heard that the most m o n e y is taking it for tour," he told Harlan after the S u p r e m e C o u r t denied the institute's petition. O n e could picture beer c o m p a n i e s vying for the rights to present the "Rolling Bones." Sue was already a worldwide celebrity. T h e publicity attendant on the criminal trial of those w h o found her could only enhance her n o t o -

160

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

riety—and value. If, as Judge Beam said, the public interest would best be served by a plea bargain, Maurice Williams's interest was probably best served by a trial that would c o n t i n u e to keep Sue in the camera's glare. As January 10, 1995, approached, it b e c a m e clear that Williams w o u l d again be the winner. United States v. Black Hills Institute, Peter Larson, et al. was going to trial.

10

THEY'RE

NOT

CRIMES

"Five million dollars," Redden said a second time. The bidding had finally slowed down. The three men in the private room above the floor had yet to be heard from. Dede Brooks rang them up. Were they planning on bidding? she asked. The defendants moved d o w n the street in a herd, followed by predators bearing m i n i c a m s a n d note pads. They found refuge inside a threestory tall, white concrete s t r u c t u r e — t h e federal building. But as they took their places in Judge Battey's large w o o d - p a n e l e d c o u r t r o o m , a m o r e dangerous threat presented itself—the t w o - h e a d e d p r o s e c u t o r u s lex, Bob Mandel a n d David Zuercher. Mandel, an amiable m a n in his mid-forties with short, dark hair a n d a dark mustache, was b o r n and raised in the big city—Chicago. He had emigrated to the Dakotas in the late 1970s after graduating from Antioch Law School in Washington, D.C. Initially, he worked for the Legal Services Corporation on an Indian reservation in N o r t h Dakota. In 1982 he joined the U.S. attorney's office in South Dakota. He had handled both civil and criminal cases and n o w supervised the Rapid City office. Although he understood why some people liked to collect fossils, he had no interest in doing so himself. "It's not my idea of entertainment," he explains. The bearded Zuercher, in his mid-forties, was t h i n n e r a n d m o r e t e m p e r a m e n t a l than Mandel. A native of Nebraska, he had gone to

162

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

college a n d law school in South Dakota. After working for the South Dakota a t t o r n e y general, he h a d joined the U.S. attorney's office about 15 years earlier. Judge Battey had been screening prospective j u r o r s since the fall. Still the vast majority of the 34 m e n a n d w o m e n in the first panel to be questioned by the judge a n d the lawyers acknowledged that they had heard a n d read a b o u t the case. T h e prosecution did not aggressively a t t e m p t to dismiss those w h o were familiar with the events of the last two years a n d eight m o n t h s . M a n d e l explains that it is very difficult to prove bias a n d that such an effort may antagonize those w h o are questioned or just observe the q u e s t i o n i n g — s o m e of w h o m inevitably wind up on the jury. As a result, the g o v e r n m e n t a n d defense quickly selected eleven w o m e n a n d three m e n to serve as j u r o r s and alternates. M a n d e l says that every t i m e a case goes to trial, "you struggle with m a k i n g it u n d e r s t a n d a b l e for the jury." He admits that this was a particular challenge in this case as there were so m a n y different instances of alleged illegal collecting a n d so m a n y other alleged crimes involving financial transactions a n d customs violations. "You try to lay it all out for the j u r y in the indictment," the prosecutor says. T h e trial, therefore, began with Zuercher reading the full text of that 33-page d o c u m e n t — a task that took m o r e than an hour. Mandel then began his o p e n i n g statement. He promised the jurors that the evidence would show that the defendants engaged in a "farreaching conspiracy for an extended period of time." He also promised: "This is not going to be a complicated case." On its face, the case wasn't that complicated—at least with respect to fossil collecting. T h e j u r o r s h a d merely to decide if the defendants had knowingly a n d willfully collected specimens from any or all of the federal, state, a n d tribal lands cited by the g o v e r n m e n t . "In the abstract, you think, So what? Anyone can get screwed up [as to whether they are collecting on forbidden lands]," M a n d e l later explained. "My task was to try to focus on the fact that the defendants did have knowledge a b o u t what they were doing." T h a t would require getting the j u r y to answer "yes" to two questions, M a n d e l says. " O n e : Did the defendants k n o w it was illegal to collect on public lands? And two: Did they k n o w they were on federal lands w h e n they were collecting?"

THEY'RE

NOT

CRIMES

163

Mandel told the jury that the evidence w o u l d show that the defendants h a d lobbied for laws p e r m i t t i n g collecting on public lands. Therefore, they obviously knew that it was currently illegal to collect on those lands. The prosecutor also promised that the defendants' o w n field notes would prove that they knew they were on federal lands. T h e y were very good m a p readers a n d m a p drawers, he said. In fact, governm e n t investigators following the defendants' notes a n d m a p s h a d found the sites and even the holes where fossils h a d been excavated. Mandel showed the j u r o r s a m a p of those sites. But the prosecutor couldn't present a m a p of the defendants' hearts a n d m i n d s . And this was the m a p he needed. For it was clear from the outset that the fate of the defendants would rest on w h e t h e r the jury viewed t h e m as sophisticated criminals intent on ignoring the laws of the land or honest m e n w h o truly didn't k n o w that they were d o i n g anything w r o n g . H o n e s t m e n , p r o c l a i m e d Duffy, w h o by this t i m e represented only Peter Larson; the o t h e r defendants, including Neal Larson, h a d their o w n attorneys. To p r e p a r e for the trial, Duffy h a d g o n e to M o n t a n a , where, earlier, G e r r y Spence h a d w o n a m u l t i m i l l i o n - d o l l a r verdict in a civil lawsuit against the g o v e r n m e n t following an i n f a m o u s incident at Ruby Ridge, Idaho. Spence represented Randy Weaver, the white separatist w h o s e wife a n d son h a d b e e n killed in a s h o o t - o u t with the FBI. In Butte, Duffy went to the library a n d read all the n e w s p a p e r clippings a b o u t the case. T h e n he talked to m a n y residents to get a sense of h o w best to t a p i n t o or arouse the a n t i g o v e r n m e n t s e n t i m e n t of a jury. Duffy's opening statement evoked memories of the "Man from H o p e " video that in 1992 had introduced a different side of Bill Clinton to his jurors, the voters. The "Men from Hill City" presentation chronicled the Larson brothers' roots—their first m u s e u m , their dreams of collecting fossils—and their ultimate realization of their dreams, the American Dream. They now sold fossils to the greatest m u s e u m s a r o u n d the world, Duffy told the jury. Having h u m a n i z e d the defendants, Duffy addressed the government's charges. So, too, did Neal Larson's lawyer, Bruce Ellison. T h e core of the Duffy/Ellison defense was simple: their clients never knowingly illegally collected on public lands. In s o m e instances in which they m a y

164

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

have collected on such land, they did so only after receiving permission from those w h o m they t h o u g h t o w n e d the land; in other words, they t h o u g h t they were on private, n o t public, property. In other instances, they relied on the w o r d of private collectors w h o m they trusted. And on still other occasions, they did not believe it was against the law to collect the particular type of specimens they were charged with stealing. In short: these h o n o r a b l e scientists either did no w r o n g or m e a n t to do no w r o n g , said their lawyers. For the next six weeks, M a n d e l a n d his t e a m reconstructed their case as Peter Larson a n d his team would construct a d i n o s a u r — b o n e by b o n e . Quite frankly, few visitors to the institute would find it exciting to watch Larson or Terry Wentz use their airbrades a n d epoxy for m o r e t h a n a few m i n u t e s . Similarly, few visitors to Judge Battey's c o u r t r o o m were held spellbound by the government's use of 92 witnesses a n d h u n dreds of exhibits. "This was the k i n d of case where you bust your butt trying to prove the elements, subjecting the jury to tedious testimony," M a n d e l acknowledges. Of course, in building a case or a dinosaur, it is the e n d product that is i m p o r t a n t . And, in fairness to the lawyers, there were m o r e than a few telling, if not theatrical, m o m e n t s . Thursday, J a n u a r y 12 FBI Agent William Asbury takes the stand for the prosecution. He testifies about the various fossils, maps, d o c u m e n t s , a n d other matter seized d u r i n g searches of the institute. As he does so, the prosecution formally introduces m a n y of these pieces into evidence. There are so m a n y exhibits—more t h a n 500—that the prosecution provides the jurors with notebooks cataloguing the evidence. Six television m o n i t o r s also display institute field notes for jurors and spectators. Asbury testifies that these notes indicate that the defendants knew that they were illegally collecting on public lands. Friday, J a n u a r y 13 Duffy cross-examines, or tries to cross-examine, Asbury a b o u t s o m e of the fossils in question. Example: Did Asbury k n o w t h a t t h e i n s t i t u t e h a d sold o n e o f t h e s p e c i m e n s t o the Smithsonian, charging only what it cost to prepare it because the fossil was of scientific import? Zuercher rises to object, arguing that h o w m u c h the institute charged is irrelevant. Judge Battey sustains the objection. Still, Duffy has m a d e his point to the jury; the Larsons weren't profiting from this so-called illegal activity. Why, therefore, the fuss?

THEY'RE

NOT

CRIMES

165

Tuesday, January 17 D u r i n g his cross-examination of Asbury, Bruce Ellison focuses on another fossil. T h e Larsons are charged with falsely telling the customs service that a baleen whale excavated in Peru had no commercial value. After bringing the bones back to Hill City, the institute reconstructed the fossil and then sold it for $225,000. Ellison asks Asbury if he knows how m a n y m a n - h o u r s went into the excavation, transport, and preparation of the specimen. His point is that the bones truly had no value when they passed t h r o u g h customs; thus, there was no false declaration. Ellison also tackles the obstruction-of-justice charge against his client. Does Asbury k n o w w h e n Neal Larson first changed the dates on the boxes of fossils in question? Ellison is laying the g r o u n d w o r k for his defense: that although Neal did change the dates, he h a d remedied the situation by the t i m e he t u r n e d the boxes over to the FBI on the day of the raid. Asbury says he is not aware w h e n the dates were first changed. Friday, January 20 O n e of the counts of the indictment charges that Peter Larson a n d Eddie Cole collected a Paleonephrops browni (fossil lobster) from federal lands at the Fort Peck Reservoir in Montana, despite the fact that Larson was aware that others had been prosecuted for illegally collecting fossils there. T h e prosecution presents Becky Otto, an archaeologist with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. She testifies that in September 1988, after the lobster was collected, the corps h a d t u r n e d d o w n a request by the institute to collect at the reservoir T h e prosecution believes this proves that the defendants knew a p e r m i t was required. On cross-examination, Duffy attempts to establish his client's i n n o cence by demonstrating that Larson and the government differ over what constitutes illegal collecting. Otto says her agency never gives permits to commercial collectors, but she admits that Corps of Engineers' regulations don't specifically use the terms "fossils" or "paleontological resources." She adds that "minerals" are included in the regulations and that fossils were intended to fall under that definition. Duffy follows up by asking if Otto is aware that the solicitor general of the U.S. D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior has ruled that fossils are not minerals. Mandel objects; Duffy's portrayal of governmental policy here is inaccurate, the prosecutor asserts. Ron Banks, Cole's lawyer, also cross-examines O t t o . T h e archaeologist has stated that corps rules b a n disturbing any g o v e r n m e n t p r o p e r -

166

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

ty or natural resources. Does that m e a n a person could be arrested for picking a flower on federal land? asks Banks, w h o is trying to plant the idea that the regulations are hazily, if not foolishly, worded. O t t o : " T h e possibility is remote." Tuesday, J a n u a r y 24 Two i m p o r t a n t witnesses are examined, Sharkey Williams a n d Lee Campbell. Larson is accused of removing fossil remains, including p o r t i o n s of three Triceratops, from Williams's ranch in the days preceding the discovery of Sue. Williams testifies that he o w n s s o m e of his land, b u t he leases the land in question from the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe. He says that Larson could have found out the b o u n d a r i e s of the leased land by asking officials of the tribe. He adds that he a n d Larson never talked a b o u t the difference between the leased a n d unleased land. Larson has always m a i n t a i n e d that he believed Williams o w n e d the land a n d h a d the power to give permission to dig. Williams testifies that he did give Larson permission to dig b u t did not k n o w that Larson was actually going to remove fossils. He says that Larson later sent h i m a check in p a y m e n t for the fossils and for dist u r b i n g the land. Williams cashed the check. Given these facts, is Larson guilty of a crime? T h e j u r y will have to decide. Campbell is a commercial collector with w h o m Larson has d o n e business. He has been granted i m m u n i t y in return for his testimony. Campbell admits that he a n d Peter Larson removed a Triceratops from BLM p r o p e r t y near Lusk, W y o m i n g , in June 1987. Larson has m a i n tained that he t h o u g h t they were on private land. Did they k n o w they were on federal land? asks the prosecution. Campbell responds that he told Larson there was a "high probability" that they were indeed within BLM b o u n d a r i e s . On cross-examination, Duffy produces a transcript of Campbell's g r a n d j u r y testimony c o n c e r n i n g the location of the fossil. "I've searched my brain 50 times on that, a n d I just can't remember," he had testified. Duffy wants to k n o w why Campbell is n o w contradicting that testimony. " H o w m a n y m o r e times did you rack your brain?" he asks. Campbell: "It's been another 50 or so. A lot." He explains that other evidence refreshed his m e m o r y . W h a t evidence? A m a p on which he had marked an "X" to designate where the Triceratops was found. The mark is on BLM land, just across the border from the private land. W h e n did he

THEY'RE

NOT

CRIMES

167

show the m a p to Larson? Duffy asks. Campbell admits that he can't recall. Again, the jury will have to determine if Larson c o m m i t t e d a crime here. Tuesday, J a n u a r y 31 T h e g o v e r n m e n t calls M a r i o n Zenker. Because she works for the institute, Zenker is t e r m e d a "hostile witness." As a result, the rules of cross-examination apply. Zenker d e m o n s t r a t e s that she is not kindly disposed to the prosecution. She prefaces o n e response by saying, "Prior to o u r being invaded by federal agents in 1992 . . . " Most telling is Zenker's description of the m a n n e r in which the Larsons operate. Zenker began w o r k i n g at the institute in 1989. At that time, she tells the jury, the b o o k k e e p i n g a n d correspondence were a mess. Most of the Larson b r o t h e r s ' contracts were verbal, n o t written. She even found s o m e notes inscribed on the back of m a t c h b o o k covers. In short: "These were people w h o loved fossils a n d h a p p e n e d to have a business," says Zenker. Eventually, the j u r y will have to decide w h e t h e r to accept this " a b s e n t - m i n d e d professor" defense. Tuesday, F e b r u a r y 7 Sue Hendrickson testifies. Because the prosecution wasn't certain when it would need her, H e n d r i c k s o n has been in town for several days. Still n o t allowed to c o m m u n i c a t e with anyone at the institute or view the trial, she is in e m o t i o n a l t u r m o i l . In his o p e n i n g statement, Duffy anticipated Hendrickson's appearance. He told the jury to r e m e m b e r that she h a d been given i m m u n i t y in return for her testimony. This a d m o n i t i o n was a not-so-subtle hint that witnesses put in this position may do whatever it takes to please the government a n d save themselves from p r o s e c u t i o n — a n d that their credibility should be weighed accordingly. Mandel suspects that Duffy will grill H e n d r i c k s o n a b o u t her o w n alleged sins for which the g o v e r n m e n t has forgiven her. To defuse such cross-examination, Mandel himself asks H e n d r i c k s o n a b o u t her past. T h e prosecutor inquires if H e n d r i c k s o n always declared fossils, amber, gold nuggets, pearls, a n d the like w h e n she entered the United States a n d if she paid income tax on items that she sold. She responds that she always declared items she believed she was required to declare a n d that she paid taxes on i n c o m e she believed was taxable. Mandel moves to Hendrickson's knowledge of the defendants' conduct. He inquires a b o u t fossils collected in W y o m i n g with Lee Campbell and others in 1987.

168

TYRANNOSAURUS

Mandel:

SUE

There was no permission obtained to collect this specimen, was there?

Hendrickson:

N o t that I remember.

Mandel:

Were you aware that this specimen was collected from BLM land?

Hendrickson:

I don't r e m e m b e r being aware of that, no.

A collecting t r i p to M o n t a n a with Larson and Eddie Cole in 1988 is the next subject of inquiry. H e n d r i c k s o n acknowledges that the party slept at a c a m p g r o u n d located at Fort Peck Reservoir, federal land. She does not, however, recall, collecting the lobster fossil that the governm e n t alleges was illegally excavated. M a n d e l has better luck w h e n following the paper trail rather than the fossil trail. Peter Larson is accused of failing to declare $15,000 in cash that he took to Peru. C u s t o m s regulations require declaration of over $10,000 in cash or travelers checks. Bank records showed that Larson w i t h d r e w the $15,000 in two separate transactions of $8000 and $7000. H e n d r i c k s o n accompanied Larson on the trip. Mandel:

Do you k n o w why it was split into two separate transactions u n d e r $10,000 each?

Hendrickson:

I don't k n o w why the two checks were written separately. W h e t h e r there was o n e calculation of what was needed, then a further calculation what was needed, I don't know.

H e n d r i c k s o n testifies that she a n d Larson split the $15,000 between t h e m w h e n they entered Peru. Why? "For safety's sake, you would each carry certain a m o u n t s of money. And as long as you are carrying less t h a n $10,000 a piece, there's no need to m a k e a declaration of it." M a n d e l isn't satisfied. "Is it fair to say, then, that o n e reason was to avoid m a k i n g a declaration?" he asks. Hendrickson: "That's likely o n e reason, yes." Duffy chooses n o t to cross-examine Hendrickson. "We'd set her up [to the jury] as their star witness, a n d I'd spent h o u r s preparing for her," he later said, " b u t [the prosecution] didn't lay a glove on her."

THEY'RE

NOT

CRIMES

169

Ellison asks only a few questions. He focuses on two fossil finds. First, he tries to establish that the defendants honestly believed they were on private land when they excavated the Triceratops from Sharkey Williams's property. Ellison:

F r o m y o u r conversations with Mr. Williams, did you have the i m p r e s s i o n that that was his ranch . . . ?

Hendrickson:

Yes.

Hendrickson leaves the stand, deeply dismayed that she was p u t in the position of having to testify against her closest friends. "I felt so sorry for her," Larson w o u l d later say. "I k n e w she didn't want to h u r t us. And she really didn't. I think her testimony was a d u d for the government. She knew we h a d n ' t d o n e anything wrong." T h u r s d a y a n d Friday, F e b r u a r y 1 6 - 1 7 U n d e r cross-examination, defendant Bob Farrar, the Larsons' partner, concedes that the institute didn't get permits at m a n y of the sites where it d u g a n d that it did n o t always require those from w h o m it b o u g h t fossils to verify that their finds had been collected legally. T h e g o v e r n m e n t charges that the institute sold the Field M u s e u m a catfish fossil purchased after it was collected by Fred Ferguson in Badlands National Park. Mandel:

For example, when you are buying fossils from within the b o u n d a r i e s of Badlands National Park, sir, could you go so far as to, say, call up the park ranger a n d ask if it's legal?

Farrar:

No, I wouldn't b o t h e r h i m with that.

Mandel:

Because he m i g h t tell you that it isn't, right?

Farrar:

I don't know.

But Farrar did think that Ferguson had "some sort of permission . . . to collect." Mandel:

You, of course, have seen that written p e r m i s sion, haven't you, Mr. Farrar?

170

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Farrar:

No, I haven't.

Mandel:

Did you ever ask to see it?

Farrar:

Yes, I have.

Mandel:

You weren't s h o w n it.

Farrar:

No.

Mandel:

Well, did that make you possibly question w h e t h e r or not it existed?

Farrar:

No, I believed it did exist.

Is Farrar naive or was he calculating? This is a question for the jury. M a n d e l offers a n o t h e r example of such naivete or calculation—the institute's participation with Campbell in the removal of a Triceratops from what t u r n e d out to be BLM land. T h e institute has always insisted that Campbell never said the fossil was on public land. Mandel:

Before collecting it, what effort did you make to find out whether or not that was federal land?

Farrar:

We m a d e no efforts whatsoever.

T h e prosecutor then t u r n s to the Triceratops skull found on Sharkey Williams's ranch. T h e institute eventually sold the fossil to a Japanese m u s e u m for $125,000. Before assenting to the purchase, the m u s e u m asked for certification that the skull had been collected on private land. Mandel:

Tell m e , what efforts did Black Hills Institute make to d e t e r m i n e the status of the land that c a m e off of?

Farrar:

We asked permission from the rancher to collect; that's all we did.

Mandel:

No o n e ever m a d e a five-minute p h o n e call to the tribal realty office to find out the status . . . ?

Farrar:

N o t that I k n o w of.

Mandel:

No o n e ever checked with the BIA [Bureau of

Farrar:

N o t that I k n o w of.

Mandel:

No o n e ever checked with the Register of Deeds?

Farrar:

I don't think so.

Indian Affairs]?

THEY'RE

Mandel:

NOT

CRIMES

171

Well, tell me, would you b u y a house for $125,000 w i t h o u t checking whose land it was sitting on, sir?

Farrar:

No, I w o u l d n o t .

Mandel addresses other charges—the u n d e r v a l u a t i o n of specimens shipped to Japan a n d o b s t r u c t i o n of justice. Farrar testifies that he undervalued by half a Triceratops skull sold to a Japanese concern for $80,000. He acknowledges that U.S. regulations require listing the "sales price," but he explains that his shipping agent requested he do s o m e thing different. " H e wanted the shipping d o c u m e n t s to reflect a lowerthan-actual price," says Farrar. Why? " W h a t I recall is that he wanted it shipped at what we would consider its replacement cost." Given an o p p o r t u n i t y to examine Farrar after M a n d e l finishes, Ellison returns to the excavation of the suspect fossils. Farrar states that it was his u n d e r s t a n d i n g that all lands involved were privately o w n e d . Ellison:

Has it been the policy of the Black Hills Institute and your policy to accept the word of the l a n d o w n e r as to what constitutes his land?

Farrar:

Yes.

Friday, Tuesday, a n d Wednesday, F e b r u a r y 17, 2 1 , a n d 22 Farrar's testimony has not advanced the cause of the defendants. ("Bob just fell apart," Peter Larson would say later. " H e was a d m i t t i n g to things we hadn't d o n e . He just wasn't properly prepared for the way in which the questions were asked.") This places an additional b u r d e n on the two m e n w h o m everyone expects will be the final defense witnesses, Neal and Peter Larson. Neal, w h o will be questioned by Ellison, takes the stand first, for questioning that will last three days. Jurors will later say that his testimony was critical to their decision-making process. Neal has been preparing for this m o m e n t for days with his attorney. Still, he looks uncomfortable as he takes his seat a n d tries to adjust the witness m i c r o p h o n e . Ellison:

Little nervous this m o r n i n g ?

Larson:

I am extremely nervous, sir.

172

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Because of the Fifth A m e n d m e n t protection against self-incrimination, n o n e of the defendants can be compelled to testify. Why, Ellison asks, is Larson testifying? "Because for a n u m b e r of years we have been alleged to have c o m m i t t e d crimes. I wanted to have the chance to tell my side of the story a n d to tell the jury, to tell the people what happened." Ellison's first goal is to present Neal as the honest, hard-working everyman that most people believe h i m to be. T h e n Neal can tell "his side of the s t o r y " — r e b u t t i n g the government's case charge by charge. T h e attorney begins by asking why Neal collects fossils. Larson:

. . . because I love t h e m . It is s o m e t h i n g wonderful to go o u t into the prairie or into the hills and to look for s o m e t h i n g that n o b o d y else but God has ever seen b e f o r e . . . .

Ellison:

Were you o u t thinking you would strike your fortune?

Larson:

To us, to my b r o t h e r a n d m y s e l f . . . the pleasure a n d the w o n d e r of h u n t i n g for the treasures, for the pleasure of what you can find in the earth, it's just overwhelming.

Neal explains that when he began at the institute out of college, he earned $100 a m o n t h . He currently draws a salary of $2400 a m o n t h , or $28,800 per year. Ellison establishes that his client is a m a n to w h o m family values are i m p o r t a n t . Neal testifies that he grew up in a large, loving, fossil-collecting family a n d is n o w the happily married father of five children ranging in age from 4 m o n t h s to 20 years old. He is a religious m a n as well (as was shown by his desire to go to church before b r i n g i n g supplies immediately after Sue was found). Neal explains to the j u r y that he went to a special high school so that he could b e c o m e a Lutheran school teacher. Ellison observes that such an occupation is "pretty unrelated to geology." Neal respectfully disagrees, "because all of geology a n d all of the things that we find on earth I believe were created by God." After Neal details the history of the institute a n d the nature of its business, Ellison attempts to question h i m a b o u t the institute's "scien-

THEY'RE

NOT

CRIMES

173

tific recognition." T h e attorney has m o r e t h a n a dozen n o t e b o o k s d e m o n s t r a t i n g the institute's relationship with m u s e u m s , d o n a t i o n of specimens, and a u t h o r s h i p of scientific papers. Zuercher objects to the evidence. Judge Battey asks Ellison to explain: " H o w is that relevant to w h e t h e r or not they broke the law?" Ellison:

It's to rebut the suggestion in the i n d i c t m e n t that the scientific aspect of the institute is simply for greed a n d that it's a ruse for t h e m to go o u t a n d unlawfully collect fossils.

After a lengthy exchange Judge Battey tells Ellison, "You are trying to get the j u r y to decide this case for the w r o n g reason." Ellison, of course, disagrees. T h e judge tells h i m to ask a "few general questions; then we are through." Ellison eventually moves to the m a n n e r in which the institute conducts its collecting. Larson testifies that as a boy he a n d his b r o t h e r s collected on neighboring land. Ellison:

W h e n you were collecting on other ranchers' land, did your d a d instill in you h o w you s h o u l d treat the question of permission?

Larson:

You m u s t always get permission whenever you go on anybody's property.

Ellison:

Is that s o m e t h i n g you've tried to do ever since you were a little boy?

Larson:

Yes, it is.

Ellison asks if there came "a t i m e w h e n the Black Hills Institute actually developed a policy of practice regarding collecting on federal land." Larson explains that in the mid-1980s his b r o t h e r Peter worked closely with South Dakota's U.S. Senator Larry Pressler to develop legislation governing such collection. T h e effort was in response to BLM regulations that would have allowed commercial collectors on the land b u t m a d e it very difficult for amateurs. Pressler was responsive to fashioning a c o m p r o m i s e giving greater access to a m a t e u r s . He introduced a bill, but it didn't pass. T h e experience persuaded the Larsons that there

174

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

was a n t a g o n i s m to commercial collectors. As a result, Larson says, " O u r policy was to avoid collecting vertebrate fossils a n d then later of all fossils on any federal lands to avoid any confrontations as we seem to have got ourselves involved in now." In 1988, the institute's board of directors had formally adopted a policy regarding collecting on federal lands. This action, Larson explains, followed the three-year effort of the National Academy of Sciences to "formulate an agreement between amateurs, professional commercial collectors, academics, a n d g o v e r n m e n t agencies." Although never i m p l e m e n t e d , the NAS report h a d r e c o m m e n d e d that the federal agencies should allow collecting on public lands, with the exception of national parks a n d m o n u m e n t s . A m a t e u r s were to be allowed to collect fossils from public lands a n d a p e r m i t t i n g system was to be established to regulate professional commercial collectors. Ellison:

So was there a decision m a d e by the Black Hills Institute to seek s o m e of these permits a n d see if that's in fact what the agencies would do?

Larson:

That's what we tried to d o , yes.

And what happened? With o n e exception, "all [permit requests] were immediately denied," says Larson. Ellison begins questioning Larson a b o u t each allegation of alleged illegal fossil collection. According to Larson, in all b u t o n e instance, the institute received permission to dig from the landowner. In some instances, the institute personnel relied on experienced collectors and skilled m a p readers with w h o m they h a d previously worked to determ i n e that they were on private, not public, land. This was the case with Campbell, for example. In other instances, however, the Larson b r o t h ers themselves used their o w n m a p s to make sure they were on private land. Some of these m a p s can be difficult to read. BLM m a p s are colorcoded, Larson explains. On a BLM m a p Larson a n d Wentz used on a collecting expedition near E d g e m o n t , South Dakota, national forest and national grasslands are designated in green. Patented lands—those o w n e d by individuals a n d on the tax rolls—are white. State lands are

THEY'RE

NOT

CRIMES

175

blue. There is also land shaded in pink, a rarity on such a m a p ; it is designated "Bankhead Jones," apparently a reference to previous owners. On the m a p , the words "Buffalo G a p National Grasslands" cross the areas marked by pink, white, a n d green. Larson was interested in exploring a large exposure in the Bankhead Jones area. After conferring with a local rancher, Larson believed that the exposure lay on land owned by a grazing association. It t u r n e d o u t this was forest service land. Larson a n d Wentz eventually collected parts of a mosasaur and, in his words, other "junk," from the property. Ellison:

Did you u n d e r s t a n d , sir, w h e n you looked at the

Larson:

N o , sir.

m a p that the pink was forest service land? Ellison:

If it had been forest service land, would you have gone on that land?

Larson:

No, sir.

Jurors listening to Farrar might have concluded that the institute m a d e little effort to d e t e r m i n e w h e t h e r they were on tribal lands. To d e m o n s t r a t e that this was n o t the case, Ellison examines Larson extensively about remains of a Triceratops allegedly removed illegally from Standing Rock Reservation in C o r s o n County, South Dakota. Larson details a relationship with m e m b e r s of the Standing Rock Sioux tribe that began in the 1970s w h e n a rancher n a m e d E m m a Bear Ribs gave him permission to collect a m m o n i t e s on her property. In 1983, Larson says, he received permission to collect from a n o t h er Sioux rancher, Wesley Arnold. He was excavating s o m e d i n o s a u r bones when he was approached by a tribal officer, Paul B r u n o Red Dog. Red Dog asked h i m whose p r o p e r t y he was on. Larson said, "I'm on Wesley Arnold's property." According to Larson, Red Dog responded: "Well, the land in this area is kind of checkerboarded and you c a n n o t always be sure. Many times the ranchers don't k n o w if it's their p r o p e r t y or if it's tribal property." Mr. Red Dog suggested that Larson cease collecting a n d get a p e r m i t from the tribe. Despite Arnold's continued assurances that he owned the land, Larson stopped collecting until the tribe awarded h i m a permit. For

176

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

several years thereafter, he always called Red Dog or his successor, Ron Yellow, to tell h i m where a n d when he would be collecting. T h e Standing Rock Triceratops that was the subject of the indictm e n t came from b a d l a n d s on the ranch of T i m M o n n e n s . M o n n e n s assured Larson that he o w n e d the land, gave h i m permission to dig, and took m o n e y for the fossil, Larson says. This seems to contradict M o n n e n s ' s testimony earlier in the trial. W h e n called as a witness by the g o v e r n m e n t , M o n n e n s said he never told Larson that he owned the land in question. Ellison does n o t ask Larson if he checked with the tribe before dealing with M o n n e n s . After addressing each alleged fossil transaction, Ellison moves to the financial transaction. Neal acknowledges that he signed the two separate checks totaling $15,000 that his b r o t h e r took to Peru. Why two checks? Neal explains that at first his b r o t h e r t h o u g h t $7000 would cover expenses. But, then: "[Peter] informed me that he had to take m o r e m o n e y . . . that $7000 was n o t e n o u g h , because they were going to be there for an extended a m o u n t of time." Ellison:

W h y didn't you tear up the first check?

Larson:

We try not to void checks; with the additional check, it m a d e the same a m o u n t . . .

Ellison:

Did you write these two checks to try a n d avoid any reporting?

Larson:

I did not.

Finally, Larson gets the o p p o r t u n i t y to tell his side of the story regarding the alteration of dates on boxes of fossils. He acknowledges that he changed the dates on s o m e boxes in anticipation of an FBI raid. T h e boxes had n o t h i n g to do with Sue. Instead, they contained bones removed from Sharkey Williams's ranch at approximately the same time Sue was excavated. T h e labeling on the boxes of fossils from Maurice Williams's ranch a n d Sharkey Williams's ranch was similar. Larson testifies that prior to actually being served with the search w a r r a n t in May 1992, he had no u n d e r s t a n d i n g that the government was interested in any fossils besides Sue. Worried that the FBI might mistakenly take the Sharkey Williams's boxes, he changed the date.

THEY'RE

Ellison:

NOT

CRIMES

177

So the intent was n o t to prevent the g o v e r n m e n t from what they t h o u g h t they were c o m i n g for, but from getting the w r o n g thing?

Zuercher:

Objection, leading.

Judge Battey sustains the objection, b u t Larson a n d Ellison have m a d e their point. Ellison now asks if, after seeing the search w a r r a n t , Larson tried to hide the boxes he had altered. N o , says Larson. He directed the agent to the area where the boxes were stored a n d " c o m m e n c e d to show t h e m the different items that were on the search warrant." Larson has c o m e across as decent m a n w h o loves what he does for a living. Ellison's gentle questioning seems to have established reasonable d o u b t as to w h e t h e r the defendants knowingly a n d willfully collected fossils illegally. But can Larson hold up u n d e r Zuercher's s u r e - t o be-aggressive cross-examination? T h e prosecutor revisits each of the acts recounted in the indictm e n t . He begins at the Buffalo Gap National Grasslands, where Larson said he removed fossils from what he mistakenly t h o u g h t was p r o p e r t y owned by a grazing association.

Zuercher:

W h e n did you b e c o m e aware that the ranchers used the national grasslands for pasture?

Larson:

I don't think that question ever came up in my m i n d to c o m e up with an answer on that, s i r . . . .

Zuercher:

.. .Were you aware that you could not remove vertebrate fossils from forest service lands?

Larson:

No, sir.

An incredulous Zuercher shows Larson a copy of the institute's unsuccessful application to the U.S. Forest Service requesting a p e r m i t to dig fossils on the grasslands. Wouldn't the fact that the institute applied for a permit suggest that Larson knew it was illegal to dig without one? Larson says he is unfamiliar with the application a n d the particular regulations.

178

TYRANNOSAURUS

Zuercher:

SUE

As an officer of the company, didn't you sign the b o a r d of directors' m i n u t e s indicating that indeed you wished to s u b m i t such an application for a permit?

Larson:

Yes, I did.

Before leaving the grasslands, Zuercher t u r n s to Larson's reading of the color-coded m a p . Zuercher:

W h e n you saw "Buffalo Gap National Grasslands" written on the m a p right over the top of it, didn't that give you some reason to think that perhaps it was Buffalo Gap National Grasslands?

Larson:

It's also over the white, too, sir, a n d the white is, according to that, patented land.

Larson does a d m i t that he never called the forest service or local register of deeds to find o u t whose land he was on. Zuercher moves to the lobster fossil allegedly removed from the Fort Peck Reservoir. He notes that in 1983, Peter Larson had gone to Washington, D.C., to protest the arrest of David Anderson, w h o had been charged with illegally removing fossils from this same federal land. Wouldn't this have p u t the institute on notice that fossil collecting there w i t h o u t a p e r m i t was illegal? Larson:

Depending on what he had been cited for. He was cited for violating the Antiquities Act, which at that time had been found to not include fossils.

Zuercher also questions Larson a b o u t the Triceratops from the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. Zuercher:

You certainly d o n ' t disagree with Mr. M o n n e n s w h e n he indicated he never told you that was his land do you?

Larson:

He never—he indicated that was his land. He told us that was his land. He never told us otherwise.

THEY'RE

NOT

CRIMES

179

Larson says he paid M o n n e n s $500 for the fossil. Zuercher:

Did you ever tell the Standing Rock Sioux tribe that you sold this Triceratops for $80,000?

Larson:

No, I did not.

This is not relevant to w h e t h e r the specimen h a d been illegally collected. Rather it is intended to suggest that the self-effacing scientists from the institute are in reality profiteers. T h e sale of other items, like the duck-bills from the M a s o n Q u a r r y , is, says the prosecution, further proof that institute personnel talked their way o n t o land a n d took fossils u n d e r false pretenses; they gained access by playing up their scientific interest in exploration a n d t h e n , after paying the l a n d o w n e r little or nothing, sold their finds for large s u m s of money. T h e institute's response is that they always indicated they were c o m mercial collectors, and, further, that t h o u s a n d s of h o u r s of p r e p a r a t i o n were required to t u r n the Triceratops bones and other finds into costly m u s e u m specimens. This response does not t r u m p e t the Larsons' p r i d e in being capitalists. Outside observers might congratulate the b r o t h e r s for making a profit in what H e n r y Fairfield O s b o r n called "a profession [that] is seldom if ever, remunerative." But the defense strategy here a n d t h r o u g h o u t the trial is to present the b r o t h e r s to the j u r y as self-made scientists, not self-made m e n . Zuercher questions

Larson

about

another

Triceratops—the

one

removed from Sharkey Williams's ranch. Larson acknowledges that he never checked with the BIA or g o v e r n m e n t to verify that the land was private. " T h e efforts had already been made," he explains. "We h a d asked for a n d received permission from Mr. Sharkey Williams. We believed it to be his property." Zuercher shows Larson a m a p that shows that the land where the Triceratops was found was o w n e d by the C h e y e n n e River Sioux (and leased by Williams). T h e m a p is from the institute. Larson says he never saw it. (To this day, the Larsons m a i n t a i n that "this m a p was false evidence, a m a p we never owned." They add that "the g o v e r n m e n t did not even give it to us with the evidence they r e t u r n e d " after the trial.) Ellison

conducts

redirect e x a m i n a t i o n

after Zuercher finishes.

M o m e n t s before Larson leaves the stand after three days of testimony,

180

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

his attorney tries to clear up confusion a b o u t w h e t h e r M a r i o n Zenker checked with the Ziebach C o u n t y Register of Deeds to d e t e r m i n e the ownership of Maurice Williams's or Sharkey Williams's ranch. For the first t i m e in the trial, Sue, the T. rex, is the subject of questioning. The exchange that follows seems a fitting climax to the proceedings. Ellison:

T h a t was the first complete Tyrannosaurus rex

Zuercher:

Objected to as irrelevant.

Judge Battey:

Sustained.

in the world, was it not?

To the surprise of m a n y in the c o u r t r o o m — i n c l u d i n g Judge Battey, w h o said he had not finished compiling jury instructions—Duffy a n n o u n c e d that Peter Larson would not testify. "I wanted to testify for the same reason as Neal—to tell my story," Larson later said. "And I expected to up until the last m i n u t e . Unfortunately, there was a problem." T h a t p r o b l e m was a h o m e m a d e video shot late o n e night in Peru. Larson says that a small p o r t i o n of the tape, which had been seized by the g o v e r n m e n t , featured offhand remarks a b o u t certain individuals. He acknowledges that those remarks were in questionable taste a n d m i g h t have offended the jury. He insists, however, that the tape had n o t h i n g to do with any of the charges against h i m . T h e prosecution wanted to show the jury the tape. "Judge Battey refused b u t said he would revisit his decision if I e n d e d up testifying," Larson explains. Confident that Neal's appearance had saved the day, a n d u n s u r e if Judge Battey would keep the embarrassing piece of video o u t of evidence, Larson decided n o t to take the stand. T h e following day, February 23, the government and all five defense lawyers presented their closing arguments. Each side had three h o u r s to make its last appeal to the jury. Mandel used all of his time. Speaking w i t h o u t any notes, he reviewed each charge a n d the corresponding evidence that, he argued, d e m o n s t r a t e d the defendants' guilt. He returned to the t h e m e he had struck in his o p e n i n g s t a t e m e n t — t h a t the defendants knew it was illegal to collect on public lands and that they knew they were on public lands w h e n they collected most of the fossils. If they

THEY'RE

NOT

CRIMES

181

didn't know, he said, they should have k n o w n . "They had the ability to read m a p s , make records, and k n o w where they were

These guys were

professional fossil hunters." He added that Judge Battey would instruct the jury that the defendants "can't t u r n a blind eye to everything a n d not look. They can't remain intentionally ignorant and avoid intent." Mandel would later say, "I felt the evidence h a d been presented to convict the defendants on every count." Still, he k n e w he had an uphill battle convincing the jury. For almost three years Duffy had argued the case in the newspapers. " H e s p u n it as big g o v e r n m e n t picking on the little guy." But as modestly dressed a n d self-effacing as they appeared in court, the defendants were not "little guys," according to the prosecutor. They sold m a n y fossils for h u n d r e d s of t h o u s a n d s of dollars. Yes, t h o u sands of h o u r s went into the p r e p a r a t i o n of these specimens, b u t m o s t of the preparators employed at the institute worked for near the m i n i m u m wage, said Mandel. Even if it cost $5000 to $10,000 to prepare a specimen that sold for over $100,000, that was quite a m a r k u p . "It makes cocaine look sad," M a n d e l said later. (The Larsons dispute Mandel's figures. A duck-bill that sells for a m a x i m u m of $350,000 takes 15,000 h o u r s of work and requires tens of t h o u s a n d s of dollars in glue a n d other preparation materials, they say.) In his closing a r g u m e n t , Duffy echoed words uttered by Mayor Vitter over a year earlier. "Either Peter Larson is a criminal m a s t e r m i n d the likes of which this state has never seen or there has been a terrible, terrible travesty." Ellison asked the jury to consider the d e p t h of the evidence, n o t the weight. "They wanted to overwhelm you," he said, referring to the p r o s ecution's lengthy parade of witnesses a n d exhibits. But despite this parade the g o v e r n m e n t had failed to d e m o n s t r a t e a conspiracy, said Neal Larson's attorney. Mandel's a r g u m e n t n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g , the prosecution had never shown that the defendants possessed criminal intent, he continued. "They're not crimes, they're mistakes." He concluded by noting that the institute was the best p r e p a r a t o r of fossils in the world. "Only the government could take s o m e t h i n g so wonderful a n d m a k e it s o u n d so bad." A criminal m a s t e r m i n d or a terrible travesty? C r i m e s or mistakes? Wonderful or bad? After the longest, costliest criminal trial in South

182

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Dakota history, the fate of the Larsons, their fellow defendants, and the institute finally rested with a j u r y of their peers. T h e defendants went h o m e to Hill City to wait for the verdict. O n e week passed. In the m i d d l e of the second week, the j u r y informed the judge it was having difficulty reaching a decision on s o m e of the charges. Keep trying, said Battey. T h e second week passed. "It was incredibly nervewracking," recalls Larson. T h e institute was in the middle of m o u n t i n g a huge d i n o s a u r display for a special exhibit in Japan for the Tokyo Broadcasting System, which, along with the H o u s t o n M u s e u m of National History, was o n e of the few clients that had retained its services since the i n d i c t m e n t s . "We were trying to work, b u t as you can imagine we weren't very efficient," Larson says. "I couldn't sleep." Larson had h o p e d that the jury would see that the government had no case a n d render a swift verdict for the defendants. N o w he worried that the lengthy deliberations signaled that the j u r y was probably going to find h i m guilty. M a n d e l t h o u g h t just the opposite; the longer the jury took, the less optimistic he became. On March 14, in the middle of the third week, Duffy called Larson. " T h e jury's reached a verdict," he said. T h e Larsons, Farrar, Wentz, and their friends a n d families nervously h o p p e d into their trucks and headed to Rapid City.

11

I

KEPT

WAITING

SOMETHING

TO

FOR

HAPPEN

"Five million one hundred thousand. Five million two hundred thousand." And then another pause. This one even longer than the one at five million dollars. Redden scanned the horizon for signs of life. The paddles had suddenly become as extinct as the T. rex. Judge Battey h a d given t h e j u r y a sheet listing each c o u n t of t h e i n d i c t m e n t a n d the p a r t i c u l a r d e f e n d a n t s accused o f t h e c r i m e s alleged w i t h i n each c o u n t . T h e r e were e m p t y boxes by each defendant's n a m e u n d e r each c o u n t . T h e j u r y was t o f i l l i n t h e a p p r o p r i a t e boxes to indicate w h e t h e r it h a d f o u n d a d e f e n d a n t guilty or n o t guilty or h a d been u n a b l e to reach a u n a n i m o u s verdict. F o r e p e r s o n Cecelia Green n o w h a n d e d t h e sheet to t h e bailiff, w h o p r e s e n t e d it to the j u d g e , w h o p r o c e e d e d to read each a n d every o n e of t h e 154 separate verdicts. T h e d e f e n d a n t s followed along, keeping score on their o w n verdict sheets. C o u n t 1: No guilty verdicts. C o u n t 2: No guilty verdicts. C o u n t 3 b r o u g h t the first convictions: Peter Larson a n d the institute were found guilty of retaining (buying) fossils valued at less t h a n $100 taken by a third party from Gallatin National Forest. Although this was only a m i s d e m e a n o r , Larson felt the air go out of h i m . He began to s l u m p in his chair. "Keep smiling," Duffy whispered.

183

184

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

"This could be a lot worse." Larson took a deep breath, sat up, and allowed himself a thin grin. By the time the judge was midway t h r o u g h his reading, the defendants had s o m e reason to smile. T h e j u r y had not found any of t h e m guilty of any felony with respect to their fossil-collecting activities—the activities that had triggered a n d fueled the government's three-year investigation. Indeed, only two additional m i s d e m e a n o r convictions h a d been returned; Peter a n d Neal Larson were each found guilty of stealing fossils valued at less t h a n $100 from t h e Buffalo G a p Grasslands—the land Neal said he h a d t h o u g h t belonged to a grazing association. Duffy was "euphoric." " T h e g o v e r n m e n t spent millions a n d millions of dollars for a few m i s d e m e a n o r convictions on the fossil counts," he would s o o n tell the press. He was right. T h e Larson brothers, Farrar, and Wentz were virtually vindicated of all charges that they were involved in a multistate conspiracy to steal, buy, or sell fossils from public lands. The j u r y h a d obviously failed to accept the government's a r g u m e n t that the institute was a criminal enterprise. Judge Battey c o n t i n u e d reading the verdicts, m o v i n g to the "white collar" c o u n t s related to c u s t o m s violations, wire fraud, a n d m o n e y l a u n d e r i n g . W h e n all was said a n d d o n e , Terry Wentz had not been convicted of a single crime. Neal Larson h a d been found guilty of the single fossil-collecting m i s d e m e a n o r . T h e institute itself h a d been found guilty of four felonies—three c u s t o m s violations a n d "retention" of the Badlands National Park catfish fossil it secured from the collector Fred Ferguson. Bob Farrar had been convicted of two felonies, each related to u n d e r v a l u i n g fossils on c u s t o m s declarations. A n d Peter Larson had been convicted of only two of the 33 felony charges he faced, each of t h e m customs violations: failing to declare on a customs form $31,700 in traveler's checks he b r o u g h t into the United States from Japan and failing to report $15,000 in cash taken to Peru. T h e final tally: Of 154 charges, the defendants, including the institute, were convicted of eight felonies a n d five m i s d e m e a n o r s . T h e j u r y voted to acquit on 73 of the r e m a i n i n g charges and was unable to reach a verdict on the other 68 offenses. Jurors would later report that the vote was 11-1 in favor of the defendants on these unresolved charges; the lone h o l d o u t was foreperson Green. " M a n y of the j u r o r s were crying as

I

KEPT

WAITING

FOR

SOMETHING

TO

HAPPEN

185

the verdict was read," Larson recalls. "It seemed clear they were u n h a p py with finding us guilty of anything." Before leaving the c o u r t h o u s e , Duffy checked the sentencing guidelines for the customs violations convictions a n d concluded, "Peter was facing zero to six m o n t h s in prison." Probation a n d p e r h a p s a fine seemed the logical p u n i s h m e n t . " N o o n e ever goes to jail for this, I told myself," Duffy r e m e m b e r s . "It was a no-brainer. These were two incredibly Byzantine customs violations. If you'd have given me four counts (two felonies a n d two m i s d e m e a n o r s ) to pick, I w o u l d have picked these four. They had no m o r a l stigmata." Despite Duffy's c o n t i n u e d e u p h o r i a , Larson was shaken. Prison remained a possibility, as did the chance of a potentially business-crippling fine. As they left the federal building a n d the press approached, Larson told Duffy that he didn't think the institute could afford o n e guilty conviction. M a n y clients had been waiting for the verdict before deciding whether to continue doing business with the Larsons. H o w would they react now? And h o w would existing clients like those in Tokyo respond? Duffy paused just outside the courthouse. "I've got something that will change this thing forever," he told his client. He pulled a long, thin cigar from his pocket and lit it. Then he moved towards the waiting reporters. W h a t do you t h i n k of the verdicts? he was asked. "I'm so pleased I can't even begin to describe it," he said. "Is that a victory cigar?" "You got that right," said Duffy. In the c o m i n g m o n t h s , s o m e w h o h a d followed the case w o u l d criticize Duffy for m a k i n g such a b o l d gesture. After all, these critics noted, the client had been convicted of two felonies a n d still faced sentencing. Says Zuercher: " T h e last time I checked, when a client is convicted of a felony, that isn't a victory." The prosecution—offended by the cigar—would play an i m p o r t a n t role in r e c o m m e n d i n g a sentence. T h e j u d g e — w h o it was clear h a d never appreciated Duffy's public p r o c l a m a t i o n s — w o u l d have the final say. Why risk antagonizing these parties w h o held Larson's future in their hands? Duffy has always defended the action a n d continues to do so. "I knew there would be r e s e n t m e n t a n d jealousy a n d I'd be accused of

186

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

histrionics," he said years after the trial. "But I'd do it again. I needed to leave t h e m s o m e t h i n g to remember." He explains that the institute's financial future was in danger if existing a n d potential clients sensed the g o v e r n m e n t h a d prevailed. C o n t r a c t s were on the line, including the o n e with the Tokyo Broadcasting System. For m o n t h s , it had seemed, said Duffy, that the institute was "in the i n d i c t m e n t business instead of the fossil business." To keep the institute afloat, that negative image had to be erased. " T h a n k god for the tobacco leaf," he says. Chicoinne has a different take: "My m e m o r y is of a lawyer with a cigar calling attention to himself—challenging the government before sentencing in essence to prove that he didn't have a victory while his sheepish client is standing next to h i m with no control over the situation." T h e prosecution also faced the media. A philosophical Mandel told reporters that he trusted the jury's verdict. "I felt we proved the case," he said in a later interview, " b u t if I was the only person I ever h a d to convince, we'd reach decisions very quickly." He says it is a p p a r e n t that the j u r y " b o u g h t the big g o v e r n m e n t versus the little guy spin." The New York Times called the verdict a "significant setback for federal prosecutors." A Denver Post headline declared: " N o Meat in Fossil Verdicts." A n d back in Rapid City, the Journal proclaimed: "Verdict Victory for Fossil Hunters." But w o u l d that victory continue t h r o u g h the sentencing? M o r e t h a n ten m o n t h s passed before the Larsons found out if they were going to prison or would receive p r o b a t i o n . T h e jury's inability to reach a verdict on almost half the crimes created most of the delay. Because of the deadlock, Judge Battey h a d to d e t e r m i n e whether or not to acquit the defendants of the o u t s t a n d i n g 68 charges. He eventually ruled against acquittal, saying, "a reasonable j u r y could have found the defendants guilty of all those charges they were unable to agree on." This decision gave the prosecution the o p t i o n to retry the case. It also m o v e d j u r o r LaNice Archer to speak out. "'Reasonable' to me was n o t spending millions of dollars on a glorified trespassing case," she told Bill Harlan. Later, Archer and six fellow jurors held a news conference. They reiterated that they had voted 11-1 for acquittal on all the unresolved charges. Then they offered a startling revelation: if they had it to do all over again, they would n o w acquit the defendants of everything. They had

I

KEPT

WAITING

FOR

SOMETHING

TO

HAPPEN

187

voted to convict only because they interpreted the judge's instructions to require that they disregard key elements of the defense, explained Archer. "They [the defendants] are n o t fraudulent people," a d d e d j u r o r Cindy Fortin. "They're a good g r o u p of guys. Very good. T h e governm e n t did not prove they were guilty of anything, with intent." Juror Phyllis Parkhurst added: "I sat there t h r o u g h the whole trial, a n d I kept waiting for s o m e t h i n g to h a p p e n . It never came." Archer described Neal Larson as a m a n devoid of criminal intent. "This is the guy w h o invented Flubber. He's the a b s e n t - m i n d e d professor." As for s o m e of the real professors w h o had testified, the government's expert witnesses, Archer said, "I started to sense early on a professional s n o b b e r y a n d jealousy in the scientific community." In May, Peter Larson traveled to Tokyo in May to m o u n t an a m b i t i o u s dinosaur exhibition. H e n d r i c k s o n helped h i m set up the display. This m a r k e d the first time that the pair had been able to talk face to face since Hendrickson h a d been called before the g r a n d j u r y three years earlier and told that she could not c o m m u n i c a t e with any of the potential defendants. "There was a lot of hugging," H e n d r i c k s o n r e m e m b e r s . " O u r friendship was as strong as ever," Larson agrees. M u s e u m officials a n d the public alike lavished praise on the Tokyo exhibition. A paper Larson had written for the occasion, "Tyrannosaurus rex—Cranial Kinesis," was also well received. Here, based on his b o n e by-bone, joint-by-joint study of Stan's skull, he detailed for the first time how the creature's head moved. "Pete knows as m u c h a b o u t this as anyone in the world," says Bakker. "It was i m p o r t a n t work." Larson r e t u r n e d to the United States upbeat. This m o o d c o n t i n u e d t h r o u g h the s u m m e r , thanks to mostly good news from the c o u r t r o o m . Despite Judge Battey's ruling, the g o v e r n m e n t decided not to retry the case. In a prepared statement, U.S. Attorney Schreier said a new trial would not be a p r u d e n t use of g o v e r n m e n t resources. She said the convictions in h a n d constituted an "adequate basis for the court to i m p o s e sentence in the case." Said Attorney Ellison: "Hopefully such a reasonable attitude will continue t h r o u g h sentencing." Sentencing never became an issue with o n e of the defendants. In August Judge Battey threw out Farrar's two felony convictions a n d the

188

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

institute's felony convictions as well. T h e judge cited a recent ruling by the U.S. S u p r e m e C o u r t that suggested that these convictions would be o v e r t u r n e d on appeal. T h e news was equally good in the field. Larson had returned to the badlands, albeit cautiously. He no longer trusted collectors or l a n d o w n ers to tell h i m the status of a particular parcel of land. He checked everything with local registrars a n d used a GPS (global positioning system) to d e t e r m i n e his exact whereabouts. In August, Steve Sacrison found another T. rex in the same formation where Stan and Duffy had been found. A smiling Larson noted that excavation would begin five years to the day after Sue had been found. "It's a wonderful thing to h a p p e n to us at this time," he told the press. "T. rex has been o u r icon for quite a long time t h r o u g h ups and downs, and all the d o w n s are easier to take if you have ups like this." He added that the find "symbolizes o u r joy in getting back to work again and doing the things we love." He n a m e d the dinosaur "Steven" after its discoverer and announced that this T. rex. would stand by Stan in the new Black Hills Museum. Two weeks into the excavation, Larson developed a n o t h e r snapshot for his d i n o s a u r p h o t o a l b u m . It's possible that the tyrant lizard was a cannibal, he proffered. Spines on Steven's dorsal vertebrae had been sheared off in a m a n n e r suggesting that they had been eaten by one of their own. T h e sites of the bites were similar to those on other animals that h a d been preyed u p o n ; Larson called t h e m the " T - b o n e a n d tenderloin" sections. T h e huge size of the " p o r t i o n s " also pointed to only o n e possible aggressor—a fellow T. rex. Thanksgiving a n d C h r i s t m a s 1995 c a m e a n d went w i t h o u t Judge Battey passing sentence. So, too, did N e w Year's Day 1996 a n d January 10, the first anniversary of the start of the trial. On January 22, Neal Larson finally appeared in court. He faced up to 12 m o n t h s in jail a n d a $1000 fine for his m i s d e m e a n o r conviction. T h e g o v e r n m e n t had argued for a stiff sentence because, it said, Larson engaged in a pattern of criminal behavior. A c o u r t r o o m full of s u p p o r t e r s , including Larson's wife a n d five children, listened as Judge Battey declared that it was a "close call" w h e t h e r to p u t Larson on p r o b a t i o n or send h i m to prison. His deci-

I

KEPT

WAITING

FOR

SOMETHING

TO

HAPPEN

189

sion: two years probation and the m a x i m u m fine of $1000. A tearful Larson h u g g e d friends a n d relatives after t h e decision a n d told reporters: " I ' m happy, joyful, a n d thankful. It's been a long four years." W h e n Peter Larson headed to court for sentencing on January 29, he knew he could face up to 33 m o n t h s in prison. Federal sentencing is not easy to diagram. In d e t e r m i n i n g the length of a sentence, a judge must d e t e r m i n e which "level" to assign to each conviction. Each level offers a range of prison time. For example, level 6—the level Duffy t h o u g h t applicable—is zero to six m o n t h s . O n c e the judge selects a level, he or she has flexibility to choose a sentence within the level's range. In November, Judge Battey, w h o m the defense h a d a t t e m p t e d to recuse four times, had held a hearing to help h i m d e t e r m i n e Larson's sentencing level. Duffy argued for level 6 a n d p r o b a t i o n . T h e governm e n t , w h o m Duffy h a d criticized at every t u r n , aggressively p u s h e d for a m u c h higher level a n d a sentence that included significant prison time, 33 to 41 m o n t h s . A federal judge can take several factors into consideration w h e n d e t e r m i n i n g the sentencing level. If prosecutors can show that there were aggravating circumstances in the case, the level can be increased. In this case, Zuercher alleged violations of Peruvian statutes a n d offered evidence not presented at trial. Duffy believed the presentation specious and called his o w n witnesses from Peru to rebut it. Sentencing guidelines also p e r m i t t e d m o v i n g to a higher level "if the defendant was an organizer or leader of a criminal activity that involved five or m o r e participants a n d was otherwise extensive." Here Zuercher continued to press the point that the j u r y h a d refused to accept: The institute was a criminal enterprise. T h e prosecutor n a m e d Neal Larson, Farrar, Zenker, a n d Hendrickson as ringleader Larson's "participants." Larson and others were flabbergasted to learn that a decision by the U.S. Supreme C o u r t p e r m i t s federal judges to use acquittals against a defendant w h e n d e t e r m i n i n g a sentencing level. T h a t decision allows the judge to weigh evidence from the trial using a different standard than the jury uses. A jury can convict only if it finds " b e y o n d a reasonable doubt." A judge can take into account w h e t h e r a " p r e p o n d e r a n c e "

190

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

of the evidence would have s u p p o r t e d a guilty charge. This is a considerably easier standard to prove. "I still don't u n d e r s t a n d h o w a judge can find you guilty of the same charge a jury finds you not guilty of," says Larson. " H o w is that fair?" Fair or not, Judge Battey h a d , in effect, d o n e just that in setting the sentencing level. His choice: not level 6, but, d e p e n d i n g on different c o m p u t a t i o n s , 17 or 18. As a result, Larson faced 24 to 33 m o n t h s in prison if the judge did not place h i m on probation. This put Larson at a level higher t h a n those for aggravated assault, involuntary manslaughter, a n d child p o r n o g r a p h y , complained Duffy. Resorting to another p o p u l a r culture reference, Duffy said, "[Larson] has to be beyond Snidely Whiplash for this to happen." Earlier in the winter, Larson h a d broken his leg falling d o w n an icy stairway. On sentencing day, with his wife a n d children at his side, he hobbled into the crowded c o u r t r o o m on crutches. Once seated, he heard Mandel argue for a prison t e r m of 30 m o n t h s and a fine of $50,000. Then the judge asked h i m if he wanted to say anything. He rose slowly from his chair and said, "I absolutely and positively accept responsibility for all of my a c t i o n s . . . . [But] I never intended to do anything wrong." Battey, w h o h a d received 190 letters s u p p o r t i n g Larson, was ready to rule. He said Larson was "a likable person," b u t he did not believe this protestation of lack of intent. Larson was too expert a collector not to have at least suspected he was on public lands, said the judge. In addition, Battey saw a pattern of c o n d u c t . "This was not an isolated theft of g o v e r n m e n t property," he noted, in direct contrast to the jury's findings. Judge Battey sentenced Larson to two years in prison. Coincidentally, this was the exact a m o u n t of t i m e the government had offered in its first plea bargain offer. T h e judge also sentenced Larson to an additional two years of "supervised release," the equivalent of parole, and fined him $5000. Duffy lit no victory cigar this time. "It's a staggeringly disproportionate sentence for the offenses committed," he said, promising to appeal the convictions. Later Duffy w o u l d take some solace in the fact that the fine h a d been relatively light. T h e judge could have put the institute o u t of business if he had chosen to, the lawyer said. Larson was left to w o n d e r h o w the plea bargain that would have kept h i m o u t of jail went up in smoke. He feels that the Journal's story

I

KEPT

WAITING

FOR

SOMETHING

TO

HAPPEN

191

about the negotiations d o o m e d the deal a n d still wants to k n o w w h o leaked the story to reporter O'Gara. There has been speculation that s o m e o n e from the defense c a m p did so, p e r h a p s w i t h o u t thinking of the consequences or perhaps out of a desire for publicity. Duffy denies any involvement. Larson recalls his attorney confirming details of the negotiations to O'Gara. This suggests that O'Gara might have learned these details from the government. But why w o u l d the prosecutors have leaked the story? Perhaps, some say, because there was a split in the U.S. attorney's office over the plea bargain. This t h e o r y holds that those w h o wanted to go to trial and p u t Larson b e h i n d bars called O'Gara in an a t t e m p t to sabotage the negotiations. If so, it appeared to have worked. " T h e b o t t o m line is that whoever did it cost me two years of my life," says Larson. Larson's stiff sentence caused m a n y institute s u p p o r t e r s to secondguess Duffy. In particular they questioned his decision from day o n e to play the case out in the press—a strategy that clearly antagonized b o t h the prosecution and Judge Battey. Aware of his critics, Duffy a d a m a n t l y defends his strategy. "I sleep the sleep of the just," he says, adding: "We were invited to a press war by Schieffer a n d the DOJ [ D e p a r t m e n t of Justice]." Clearly. But did he have to accept the invitation? Yes, he says. " T h e net effect was positive." There were only a few convictions, a n d "the fines could have been so m u c h worse. [Judge Battey] could have applied econ o m i c sanctions that destroyed the institute." But what of the prison term? " T h e sentencing was draconian," says Duffy. " T h e use of alleged illegal violations in Peru to form a basis for relevance was wrong." Duffy concludes: "I'm offended that if you piss the g o v e r n m e n t off you have to pay. That's what started the case a n d that's what e n d e d it." Perhaps. But if a lawyer knows that the g o v e r n m e n t will react negatively, even punitively, if "pissed off," shouldn't he try to avoid waging war in the press? In the end, Duffy seems to have w o n the battle b u t lost the war. His strategy to portray the defendants as the victims of an evil prosecutor and vindictive g o v e r n m e n t worked brilliantly with the jury. But it failed just as spectacularly with the judge a n d the U.S. attorney's office. This is not to say that if Duffy had never talked to the press, he could have kept

192

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

his client o u t of prison. Few m e m b e r s of the c o m m u n i t y think two years in prison is a fair sentence for failing to declare cash or travelers' checks. But from the m o m e n t the FBI raided the institute—perhaps even before, w h e n Rangers Santucci a n d Robins began their investigations— the g o v e r n m e n t seemed bent on m a k i n g an example of the Larsons, and a slap on the wrist wouldn't do. W h y did the g o v e r n m e n t need to make an example of anyone? "The g o v e r n m e n t was never able to create a uniform system of laws to cover [fossil collecting]," Duffy explains. "And what government can't get by directive, oftentimes it takes by indictment." Chicoinne agrees, but he places s o m e of the b l a m e on Duffy's shoulders. "Mandel was an u p front guy. In my o p i n i o n , you could have eventually sat d o w n with h i m a n d m a d e a lot better deal t h a n two years. T h e crimes alleged here were not inherently egregious—not child abuse, molestation, or bilking people o u t of savings." T h e spotlight should have been t u r n e d off so that "the g o v e r n m e n t could settle w i t h o u t a lot of people looking at t h e m . T h e g o v e r n m e n t doesn't want people to t h i n k it's soft." Kevin Schieffer was never accused of being soft. T h u s his c o m m e n t s on whether he felt vindicated by the sentencing might surprise some of his critics. "There's not a whole lot of vindication when the law is stupid," he said recently. "I empathize with the institute in that that area of the law was screwed up. To their credit they lobbied to get it changed to what they t h o u g h t would be better. But even if getting permits is screwed up, you don't ignore t h e m . As a p r o s e c u t o r . . . you can't walk away when you have guys as sophisticated as these . . . flagrantly ignoring the law." On February 19, three weeks after the sentencing, friends and family of Peter Larson gathered at the Alpine Inn restaurant on Main Street for a going-away party. Larson had agreed to " s u r r e n d e r " at the federal prison in Florence, Colorado, two days later. "There was s o m e laughing and s o m e crying," he r e m e m b e r s . He admits that he had cried considerably m o r e than he had laughed in the preceding days. "At the point of sentencing, it became m o r e real. I prepared myself mentally for prison. I closed myself in. I could no longer engage my family." On February 22, Larson and his wife m a d e the t e n - h o u r drive from Hill City to Florence, which lies 110 miles southwest of Denver. They

I

KEPT

WAITING

FOR

SOMETHING

TO

HAPPEN

193

parked outside the gate of the wall-less m i n i m u m security prison, where about 80 percent of the 400 inmates were serving time for drug-related crimes. Larson and Kristin talked, held h a n d s , cried, a n d kissed. T h e n Larson climbed out of the car a n d headed inside. Task n u m b e r o n e was to fill out a prison induction form. " U n d e r 'reason for incarceration,' the guard p u t 'failure to fill o u t forms,'" Larson laughs. "That was what my crime was called. That's what I got 24 m o n t h s for after all the accusations a n d all the horrible things they accused us of." After filling out the form, Larson was given a n u m b e r , a uniform, a b u n k in a 3 2 - m a n dormitory, a n d a work assignment—shoveling snow (despite the fact that he was still recovering from his broken leg a n d was walking on a cane). He couldn't shovel, b u t he had to stand outside while the shoveling was d o n e . T h r o u g h past travails, Larson had learned "my key to survival is to work my ass off." O n c e situated in the prison, he started writing a b o o k and several papers about the science of the T. rex. He also started plotting a way to get Sue back. Any sale, or, for that matter, any other plan for Sue h a d to be approved by the T. rex's trustee, the federal g o v e r n m e n t . T h e D e p a r t m e n t of the Interior had entrusted that job to the Aberdeen office of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. In a newspaper report published before Larson went to prison, the BIA's C a r s o n M u n d y said that he had seen six u n s o licited offers for the dinosaur. Five proposals came from companies that wanted to help Williams finish cleaning a n d preparing the bones a n d then assist h i m with the sale. Sotheby's, the p r o m i n e n t auction house, had also offered to sell Sue on c o n s i g n m e n t . M u n d y said that n o n e of the proposals were from m u s e u m s b u t that all came from within the United States. Was a sale within the United States required? No, said Mundy. As trustee, the government's role was to d e t e r m i n e the "highest a n d best use" for Williams's benefit, not the benefit of the United States. If a higher offer came from outside the c o u n t r y — f r o m either a m u s e u m or a private collector—the g o v e r n m e n t could not stand in the way of a sale. Kevin Schieffer, firmly ensconced in the private sector now, took note of the developments. "My angst a n d anguish of a professional

194

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

n a t u r e h a d occurred years before," he says. "At this point, I was beyond that. I just t h o u g h t , W h a t will be will be." Peter Larson, firmly ensconced in prison, was unwilling to give up the fight. "I had s o m e spies on the outside telling me what was going on," he says. "I still t h o u g h t there might be a way to get her back."

12

EVERYTHING THAT

CHANGED DAY

"Five million two hundred thousand," Redden repeated. Dede Brooks signaled to the auctioneer. He smiled. Her mystery bidder was finally in the game. "Five million three hundred thousand," Redden said. On a w a r m June day in 1997, three m e n entered a warehouse in East Harlem to examine merchandise said to have a street value of at least $ 1 million. John McCarter, Jr., John Flynn, a n d Bill Simpson h a d c o m e all the way from Chicago to d e t e r m i n e w h e t h e r the stories were true: that the goods—laid out on shelves a n d in boxes—were first rate, o n e of a kind, must have. They needed to check the quality of the stuff in person before finding s o m e o n e to help t h e m acquire it. T h e y held it in their hands. They took photos. They took m e a s u r e m e n t s . And then they left. If they did go after the merchandise, McCarter would be in charge of the operation, including finding the silent p a r t n e r s to assist in the purchase. Flynn a n d Simpson were his experts, the ones w h o could prepare the goods so that they might b e c o m e infinitely m o r e valuable. "Is this s o m e t h i n g you want?" McCarter asked the two m e n as they stood in the parking lot outside the warehouse. Each said yes. And so the Field M u s e u m began its effort to acquire Sue. T h e Harlem warehouse belonged to Sotheby's New York. Maurice Williams had put the T. rex up for auction. Liberated after almost five

195

196

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

years in the m a c h i n e s h o p at the South Dakota School of Mines, Sue was scheduled to go on the block in a b o u t four m o n t h s , on October 4. In the m e a n t i m e , interested parties could inspect her by a p p o i n t m e n t only. Williams's decision to sell Sue h a d not c o m e easily. Although deluged with purchase offers, he had h o p e d to retain ownership of the fossil. "We planned on having it here," he said in a telephone interview after the auction. "I h a d a relationship with the people at the School of Mines. I'm disappointed." He explained that he had wanted to charge people m o n e y to watch the cleaning a n d preparation of the specimen, sell casts of the skeleton, a n d take Sue on tour. In detailing these plans, Williams m a d e no effort to hide the fact that this was, as he had told Primetime Lives Sylvia Chase, all a b o u t money. (He even tried, u n s u c cessfully, to charge m o n e y for the interview excerpted in this book. " W h a t do you expect us p o o r people to do?" he asked.) Williams says that a lack of m o n e y forced h i m to a b a n d o n these plans. " T h e fossil was in storage at the School of Mines. T h e government refused to pay storage costs, a n d I couldn't afford to," he said. "I asked, 'Is it g o n n a be d u m p e d in the street?'" Enter David Redden, Sotheby's executive vice president. Redden had been following the custody battle for Sue for s o m e time. "I was fascinated by it," he a d m i t s . "It was a wonderful snapshot of m a n y aspects of o u r social c o m p a c t , wasn't it? T h e rights of paleontologists, Native Americans, the rights of the public—each of which can be debated." W h e n it appeared that the Native American w o u l d emerge victorious, Redden contacted h i m . T h e suave Englishman h a d never sold a dinosaur, but he firmly believed that Sue was, in his words, "an absolute candidate for the auction process." He explains: "I was intrigued by the challenge facing Maurice Williams a n d the federal g o v e r n m e n t . It [Sue] was not s o m e thing he was going to keep, I didn't think. It required administration. But h o w to move it to the next o w n e r was a real challenge." In 1995 a n d 1996, Redden talked with Williams on the p h o n e a n d visited h i m in South Dakota to make the pitch that the auction process could best meet that challenge. He found Williams to be b o t h intelligent a n d savvy. W h e n asked if he needed information a b o u t Sotheby's, the rancher said, no, he was familiar with the auction house.

EVERYTHING

CHANGED

THAT

DAY

197

W h a t did Redden tell Williams? "That the process could do three things: one, assign a value; two, sort o u t the various possible contenders; and three be a mechanism for bringing to the forefront candidates w h o m i g h t not be so obvious." These candidates, Redden acknowledged, might include private collectors rather t h a n m u s e u m s . Williams didn't care. If he was going to sell the d i n o s a u r he says, he was going to sell it to the highest bidder, be that an institution or an individual. Redden eventually sold Williams on selling Sue. In consigning the dinosaur to the auction house, the rancher t u r n e d d o w n n u m e r o u s offers from a variety of parties, including private collectors, m u s e u m s , a n d corporations. O n e Las Vegas casino was reportedly interested in making Sue a featured attraction. In November 1996, Sue was released from her holding cell in Rapid City a n d sent east to her halfway house in Harlem. If Sue seemed a natural to be sold by Sotheby's, she also seemed a natural to be acquired by the Field Museum. The institution first opened its doors in 1893. Known then as the Columbian M u s e u m of Chicago, its stated purpose was the "accumulation and dissemination of knowledge, and the preservation and exhibition of objects illustrating art, archaeology, science and history." In 1905, the museum's n a m e was changed to Field Museum of Natural History to h o n o r its first major benefactor, Marshall Field (of the department store family), and to better reflect its focus on the natural sciences. Thanks largely to expeditions by its o w n scientists, the museum's natural history collections are considered a m o n g the best in the world, ranking the institution in the same category as the Smithsonian, the American M u s e u m of Natural History, and the British Museum. T h e Field has m o r e t h a n 20 million zoological, botanical, a n t h r o pological, a n d geological specimens. These include d i n o s a u r s found by paleontologist Elmer Riggs d u r i n g the golden age of d i n o s a u r h u n t i n g . Just five years after o p e n i n g its doors, the m u s e u m h a d hired Riggs, a confederate of B a r n u m Brown, to find a b r o n t o s a u r u s . M u s e u m s in New York a n d Pittsburgh were already drawing large crowds with their 75-foot-long skeletons of this ancient herbivore. Riggs u n e a r t h e d a big d i n o s a u r in 1900, b u t it wasn't a b r o n tosaurus, a n d it wasn't 75 feet long. It was a 90-foot-long brachiosaurus ("arm lizard"). Until recently, this plant eater was t h o u g h t to be the largest land animal ever.

198

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Unfortunately, Riggs's brachiosaurus was less t h a n 25 percent complete. Insufficient for display, the d i n o s a u r rested in storage for m o r e t h a n 90 years—until the m u s e u m ' s o n e h u n d r e d t h birthday. Then, to celebrate the occasion, the Field unveiled a glorious skeleton created by s u p p l e m e n t i n g the Riggs b o n e s with sculpted material from a m o r e complete specimen in the H u m b o l d t M u s e u m in Berlin. Brachiosaurus was not the only Riggs find standing on the m u s e u m floor. In 1901, the paleontologist did unearth a brontosaurus (now reclassified as apatosaurus). This specimen was complete e n o u g h to display and has long been the main attraction of the Field's "Life Over T i m e " exhibit. W h y with two s t u n n i n g dinosaurs already r o a m i n g its landscape w o u l d the m u s e u m be interested in Sue? Bakker provides the short answer: "They didn't have a T. rex!' N o t a real one, anyway In the late 1920s, the p r o m i n e n t paleontological artist Charles Knight created a series of colorful, detailed murals for "Life Over Time." T h e most famous of these m u r a l s depicts a battle between a T. rex a n d a Triceratops. H o r n e r notes that Knight's depiction has flaws but was a valiant effort for its day. "Today, we'd make the legs m o r e birdlike and the s n o u t longer, a n d we might make the b o d y lean forward m o r e , a n d raise the tail farther," he writes in The Complete T. Rex. "But at least Knight got T. rex off its haunches." Word that a three-dimensional T. rex would be auctioned off had gotten John McCarter, the Field's president a n d chief executive officer since October 1996, off his h a u n c h e s . He is a friendly, balding m a n in his early sixties. A graduate of Princeton a n d the Harvard Business School, he earned his living as a m a n a g e m e n t consultant in Chicago before c o m i n g to the m u s e u m . He was no stranger to the not-for-profit sector, however. From 1989 to 1996, he had served as c h a i r m a n of the b o a r d of W T T W , Chicago's public television station. Like Peter Larson, McCarter envisioned Sue as a centerpiece that would d r a w visitors to his m u s e u m ' s d o o r for generations to come. "You need a big, defining exhibit," he says. " D o you k n o w what the most visited object is in a m u s e u m ? T h e H o p e D i a m o n d at the Smithsonian. It brings ' e m in." Bringing ' e m in, says McCarter, has m a n y advantages, not the least of which is generating revenue to s u p p o r t less g l a m o r o u s endeavors. " T h e reason we do dinosaurs is so that we can do fish," he says. He

EVERYTHING

CHANGED

THAT

DAY

199

explains that the fish in the m u s e u m ' s collection m a y shed m o r e light on evolution than Sue or any other d i n o s a u r will shed, b u t having a d i n o s a u r draw like Sue would "allow us to have financial robustness a n d strength to fulfill the m u s e u m ' s mission." Because Sue's bones had been in storage for over five years, McCarter wanted Flynn, the Field's head of geology a n d an accomplished dinosaur hunter in his own right, and Simpson, the m u s e u m ' s chief preparator, to inspect the fossil firsthand. "We wanted to see h o w it would stand up to preparation," says Simpson. If the bones were too soft a n d crumbly, too "punky," as the preparator puts it, the m u s e u m would not be able to clean them, study t h e m , a n d reconstruct t h e m for display. Seeing Sue was bittersweet, Flynn recalls. "It was depressing to see such a specimen in an auction warehouse." At the same time, "there was excitement, especially seeing the skull. It was spectacular. In paleontology my joy comes from fossil discovery or seeing a beautiful specimen. . . . This was the H o p e D i a m o n d of fossils." In the parking lot outside the warehouse, Simpson told McCarter that he was "thrilled to see that the b o n e was hard. It was well preserved. [Preparation] could be done." Flynn agreed. "We do not take any specimen into o u r collection unless it has scientific value a n d meets [some or all of] o u r goals of research, exhibition, a n d education

Here, with the quality of preser-

vation, the completeness of skeleton, you could ask questions you couldn't of any other T. rex.... It met all three goals." McCarter h a d already discussed Sue with Judy Block, the chairperson of the m u s e u m ' s board of trustees. After r e t u r n i n g to Chicago from New York, he told her, "This is serious." He quickly m e t with Block a n d the trustees' executive c o m m i t t e e , w h o gave h i m the green light to, as McCarter says, "figure out a way to get it." T h e first thing McCarter h a d to figure out was h o w m u c h m o n e y he might need and w h o could provide the money. "Getting it didn't m e a n just having it in plaster jackets in the building," says Flynn. "We would clean it, m o u n t it, develop an exhibition, a n d [conduct] world-class scientific research." All these activities w o u l d require funds above a n d beyond the purchase price. T h e Field was already in the process of preparing an a m b i t i o u s exhibition for 1999, " U n d e r g r o u n d Adventure." Here, visitors would take a simulated j o u r n e y u n d e r n e a t h the Illinois prairie. " S h r u n k " to the

200

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

size of an insect, the travelers w o u l d meet a n i m a t r o n i c ants a n d spiders along the way. T h e cost of the exhibit would be $10 million. T h e funding source? C o r p o r a t i o n s , including M o n s a n t o , which alone had donated $4 million. McCarter knew he would also need corporate support to acquire Sue a n d prepare her for exhibition. O n e c o m p a n y immediately came to mind. McCarter sat on the b o a r d of directors of W. W. Grainger Corporation. So, too, did Fred Turner, then the chairman of McDonald's. At a Grainger board meeting, McCarter pulled Turner aside, told h i m about Sue, and asked whether the fast food giant might consider helping the m u s e u m acquire the giant carnivore. W h y McDonald's? T h e c o m p a n y was based in the Chicago area and already h a d a long-standing relationship with the m u s e u m . Equally i m p o r t a n t , McDonald's h a d a rich history of c o m m u n i t y involvement, particularly in s u p p o r t i n g p r o g r a m s with an impact on y o u n g people. McCarter r e m e m b e r s that Turner responded enthusiastically to his initial overture. "I didn't even have to give h i m my full spiel," says the m u s e u m director. Back at McDonald's h e a d q u a r t e r s in O a k b r o o k , a s u b u r b west of Chicago, Turner t u r n e d the matter over to a vice president, Jack Daly. Daly, a genial m a n in his early fifties, is not in charge of marketing b u t rather worldwide c o m m u n i c a t i o n s . " I ' m involved in m a n a g i n g the reputation of the b r a n d a n d the r e p u t a t i o n of the corporation," he explains. W h e n Daly told his colleague Cathy N e m e t h that he was going to see a m a n a b o u t a dinosaur, each laughed. "I basically t h o u g h t it would be a courtesy call," r e m e m b e r s N e m e t h , the h o m e office's director of communications. Daly confesses that he was n o t terribly enthusiastic as he m a d e the h o u r long drive into the city. "I have an abiding interest in a n t h r o p o l o gy a n d paleontology, a n d I have three small kids," he says "I k n o w what a significant cultural trend dinosaurs are. But I m u s t say when I went d o w n there I didn't think we'd find a commonality. . . . We're not the k i n d of c o m p a n y interested in playing a passive role. We're not just interested in a plaque. At the level [of financial c o m m i t m e n t ] we were talking a b o u t here, getting involved makes sense for us only if we can engage o u r customers."

EVERYTHING

CHANGED

THAT

DAY

201

McCarter knew this. As a result he was able to present Daly with several ways that McDonald's could engage the millions of Americans (and others a r o u n d the world) w h o m the c o m p a n y serves. Casts of the d i n o s a u r could be m a d e and taken on tour, said the m u s e u m director. Knowing that McDonald's regularly created educational materials for schools, McCarter noted that Sue was a perfect subject for videos, books, a n d lesson plans. Daly began to see some possibilities. "I liked the idea that this was big," he says. But many questions remained. H o w m u c h m o n e y did McCarter think it would take to win Sue? W h a t other companies might be involved? McCarter told Daly that he wasn't sure h o w m u c h Sue w o u l d c o m m a n d at a u c t i o n — p e r h a p s $1 million or m o r e . He also said that McDonald's was the first c o r p o r a t i o n he h a d called. "What a b o u t Disney?" Daly asked. He r e m i n d e d McCarter that McDonald's a n d Disney h a d just entered into a ten-year m a r k e t i n g alliance. McCarter knew this, b u t he was n o t aware of o n e fortuitous element of that u n i o n : McDonald's was to be the sponsor of D i n o L a n d USA, an integral part of Disney's Animal Kingdom, an adventure park scheduled to o p e n in O r l a n d o , Florida, in the fall. "John was intrigued by this," r e m e m b e r s Daly. Daly had a n o t h e r question: W h a t was the t i m e frame for the p r e p a ration of Sue? McCarter said that the unveiling might n o t take place until the year 2000. Daly saw this as b a d news a n d good news. Two a n d half years was a lot of time to wait for a payoff on an investment. On the other h a n d , a millennium unveiling presented its o w n o p p o r t u n i t i e s . Daly had already spent a couple of years thinking a b o u t what McDonald's could do for the m i l l e n n i u m . "It's kind of a hard thing to consider," he admits. " W h e n you are a b r a n d as ubiquitous a n d o m n i p o tent as we are, you pretty m u c h k n o w there's going to be an expectat i o n — t h a t people are going to be asking: ' W h a t is M c D o n a l d ' s going to be doing?' We were thinking, W h a t could we do that w o u l d be impactful, be global, make the system p r o u d ? " Building a children's hospital or the wing of a hospital was a possibility. And McDonald's a n d Disney had plans to bring 2000 children together to "celebrate what's good a b o u t the world a n d what could be

202

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

better," says Daly. But he had been unable to c o m e up with the "impactful" m i l l e n n i u m project he desired. C o u l d Sue be that project? Says N e m e t h : "Jack c a m e back saying it m a y work. W h e n he gets excited it's, well, he's the boss. It's c o n t a g i o u s . We're a creative g r o u p by n a t u r e ; n o t h i n g is u n t h i n k a b l e or unacceptable. S o m e t i m e s I think t h e m o r e over t h e t o p it a p p e a r s , the m o r e we get excited by it. O u r charge here is d o i n g s o m e t h i n g different a n d u n i q u e a n d exciting. We have a saying here: ' O n l y M c D o n a l d ' s can do.' T h a t m a y be overused a n d a bit cliche-ish, b u t it's certainly a b e n c h m a r k of w h a t you're looking for." The m o r e Daly thought about the project, the m o r e it seemed like something McDonald's could do. "If John [McCarter] had said it might take ten years or even five, it might have been different, because my initial thinking was m o r e as a millennium gift than anything else and everything flowed from there," he says. "I had been struck by something Bill Clinton had said about the millennium: 'If you are interested in celebrating the future, try to h o n o r the past.' I liked the idea that Sue was this timeless, priceless thing a n d that if the m u s e u m could get it, it would last forever." Daly called together N e m e t h a n d a b o u t a half dozen others w h o m a d e up his brain trust. "We started to break it into its c o m p o n e n t parts," he r e m e m b e r s . "We were thinking, Okay, so there's gonna be this big period of t i m e — t w o years—when n o t h i n g h a p p e n s . W h a t can McDonald's do d u r i n g that period?" T h e answer: Produce educational materials for schools a n d sponsor the McDonald's Fossil Preparation Laboratory on the m u s e u m floor where visitors could watch b o n e cleaning a n d preparation. O n e imagines plans for H a p p y Meals a n d Sue action figures as well, b u t Daly a n d N e m e t h insist that those o p t i o n s weren't seriously considered. Such commercialization of a scientific specimen would, of course, need the m u s e u m ' s approval. But m o r e t h a n that, this wasn't primarily a b o u t marketing, says Daly, it was a b o u t brand. " T h e headline is: Give back to the c o m m u n i t i e s you serve. It gets to the whole question of what's the full s p e c t r u m of a b r a n d . T h e marketing piece is there, obviously, because that's part of what a b r a n d is, b u t there are a lot of other colors in the s p e c t r u m that add to it. Clearly, working in a socially responsible way with organizations like the Field M u s e u m is an i m p o r tant part of the spectrum."

EVERYTHING

CHANGED

THAT

DAY

203

What kind of projects enhance the brand? "A perfect p r o g r a m for us is one with potential global impact in terms of news, in terms of goodwill, and then clearly one that has implications in the United States—one that can be worked right down into the grassroots of o u r organization—every town, every community," says Daly. Sue came close to fitting the profile. O n e additional element could make saying yes to the m u s e u m even m o r e appealing. Soon after meeting with McCarter, Daly traveled with Nemeth to O r l a n d o for a previously scheduled meeting with their partners at Disney's Animal Kingdom. Sue was n o t on the agenda, b u t d u r ing a break Daly a n d N e m e t h cornered Bob Lamb, the Disney vice president in charge of the new park. "Want to b u y a dinosaur?" Daly asked. Lamb, it t u r n e d o u t , was n o t only familiar with Sue, he h a d contemplated trying to acquire her. A few m o n t h s earlier, a Disney designer had sent h i m a clipping a b o u t the T. rex. "I t h o u g h t , This is a cool thing," r e m e m b e r s Lamb, whose experience with dinosaurs dates back to the o p e n i n g of Epcot Center in 1982. As project c o o r d i n a t o r for an energy exhibit that featured a d i n o s a u r d i o r a m a , he h a d helped sculpt some of the creatures—"the side the audience couldn't see," he laughs. Pursuing Sue was discussed at the highest levels, says Lamb. Eventually, however, Disney decided against b i d d i n g for her. "We didn't have the Field M u s e u m connection or a connection with any other scientific institution," he explains. "And w i t h o u t that connection, this was not a good thing for Disney." O u t b i d d i n g a m u s e u m for Sue a n d m e r e ly displaying her in D i n o L a n d USA or any other venue would have been a public relations nightmare. N o w McDonald's was offering a scientific connection. Says Daly, "I'd like to say the process is totally systematic a n d strategic. I don't think it is. I think there's serendipity, a n d I t h i n k in this particular instance there was a lot of serendipity." Within a few weeks, Lamb called to say that Disney would participate. They would feature a cast of Sue in DinoLand. A n d before the cast was ready, they would o p e n a " b r a n c h office" of the McDonald's Fossil Preparation Lab in the park where m u s e u m preparators could w o r k on Sue in front of visitors. W h e n Lamb called, McDonald's was still considering whether or not to get involved in the project. " T h e next thing you k n o w they're calling to say, 'We're in,' which was like, U h - o h , they're in, I guess it m e a n s

204

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

we're in," r e m e m b e r s Daly. "It had a strange m o m e n t u m . Any o n e of the players could have s p u n out, a n d that m i g h t have s p u n out the whole thing. But everybody sort of s p u n in." Before s p i n n i n g in, Daly did need, in Nemeth's words, "the buy-in of several key people in the company." Key a m o n g these were, she says, "our p a r t n e r s in the marketing d e p a r t m e n t , w h o were very m u c h involved with the Disney alliance." Daly a n d N e m e t h also h a d to persuade themselves that local operators would "buy in" and s u p p o r t the t o u r of Sue. These operators would end up footing the bill for Sue's visit to their respective regions of the country. " O u r biggest concern was the receptivity of operators [who would ask]: 'How's this g o n n a sell h a m b u r g e r s for us?'" says N e m e t h , an attractive, energetic w o m a n in her mid-forties. "We fight that all the t i m e w h e n we present a p r o g r a m that might have a cost to it that is really m u c h m o r e in the area of what we want to do for o u r customers in the c o m m u n i t y — b r a n d building." She adds: "This was n o t a p r o g r a m to sell h a m b u r g e r s

W h a t we

do for a living is m a k e sure that we do help sell h a m b u r g e r s or we p r o b ably won't have spots in the c o m p a n y rosters. But we also make sure we have a nice balance of p r o g r a m s that are m e a n t simply to be effective to o u r customers in o u r c o m m u n i t i e s a n d p r o g r a m s that are m e a n t to drive traffic into o u r restaurants, a n d the t r u t h is you need to do b o t h a n d build credibility with customers." Having secured the s u p p o r t of all necessary d e p a r t m e n t s , Daly and N e m e t h arranged a meeting with the person w h o would have final say on the matter, Jack Greenberg, the president of McDonald's U.S.A. (who has since b e c o m e the corporation's chief executive officer). "We had a whole presentation ready," says N e m e t h . "You're here to talk a b o u t the dinosaur, right?" said Greenberg. "Yes," said Daly. "Is it a good idea, Jack?" "Yes. " T h e n okay, we'll do it," said Greenberg. M c D o n a l d ' s a n d Disney were aboard, each with a m b i t i o u s plans that would, in McCarter's words, give Sue "legs and reach." N o w all the m u s e u m director h a d to do was get the dinosaur.

EVERYTHING

CHANGED

THAT

DAY

205

Despite significant financial c o m m i t m e n t s from b o t h c o r p o r a t i o n s , McCarter still wasn't certain if he had e n o u g h m o n e y to win Sue. Indeed, he still had no idea what she m i g h t bring at Sotheby's. He h a d been to only two auctions in his life—for cattle, n o t fossils. In each instance he had been a spectator, n o t a bidder. Unwilling to be caught with his paddle d o w n , McCarter picked up the p h o n e and called an old friend from the W T T W b o a r d — C h i c a g o art dealer Richard Gray. "Are you busy?" he asked. Gray, a peripatetic c o m m u n i t y booster, wasn't surprised to hear from the m u s e u m director. "John's the kind of guy whose ideas won't stay still," he says. Within the h o u r McCarter was at Gray's gallery, briefing the art dealer about Sue. "John needed s o m e h a n d holding. He didn't want to get in over his head," r e m e m b e r s Gray, an old pro at the auction business, w h o once m a d e a w i n n i n g bid of m o r e t h a n $20 million for a painting on behalf of a client. Gray quickly offered a strategy that would prevent McCarter from getting in over his head. "Try and buy up front," he said. "See if you can avoid the risk of auction. Talk to Williams. Talk to Sotheby's. Find out if you can buy directly." M c C a r t e r ' s eyes lit u p . " C a n you do that? C a n you p r e e m p t an auction?" "It's not c o m m o n , b u t sometimes it can be d o n e . I've d o n e it. Everything is negotiable," Gray told h i m . McCarter was willing to try. Uncertain that the gambit would work, however, he enlisted his friend as an u n p a i d consultant. He gave Gray material about Sue and asked h i m to try to figure out h o w m u c h she would bring if she did go to auction. "John's people had d o n e a financial analysis," Gray says. "They had tried to rationalize what kind of value you can get, even d o w n to souvenir sales." Williams and Sotheby's must also have rationalized Sue's value. They t u r n e d d o w n McCarter's preemptive offer, which was in the neighb o r h o o d of $1.5 million. Having read m o r e a b o u t the d i n o s a u r by this time, Gray u n d e r s t o o d why. "I got a growing sense of her iconic value and h o w various parties a r o u n d the globe might react," he says. He reasoned that if McDonald's a n d Disney were on board, "there would be

206

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

serious c o m p e t i t i o n a n d n o t just from the United States. There were all kinds of possibilities of parties w h o m i g h t w a n t this as a trophy." C o u l d he envision casinos b i d d i n g for a T. rex . 7

"Absolutely," says Gray. Having seen the effect of the "trophy mentality" in the art world of the late 1980s, Gray "came up with a n u m b e r considerably higher than the dollars [McCarter] was working at." He suggested the m u s e u m go back to its backers or find new ones and ask for more money. McCarter and his staff sought and received additional support from certain board members and a c o m m i t m e n t from the California State University system to provide up to $700,000 for restoration and study of Sue. Putting this auction package together was "a bit like space station contracting," says Flynn. "You don't k n o w what the upper limit is since there is no precedent." Fearful that word of the museum's interest in Sue would attract other bidders and drive the price up, Gray insisted that McCarter tell his colleagues and everyone at McDonald's and Disney not to discuss the dinosaur with anyone. "Cut off all contact with Sotheby's, too," Gray ordered. " T h r o w cold water on it." At o n e point Sotheby's called for the m u s e u m ' s financials—docum e n t s necessary to facilitate bidding. " D o n ' t respond," Gray said. "Tell t h e m , "We're n o t p l a n n i n g to participate,' anything to t u r n off their interest." Shortly before the auction, Sotheby's again called. Did the m u s e u m need help with any arrangements? Gray suspects the house was m o r e interested in k n o w i n g if McCarter would be bidding. Again, the m u s e um's director played d u m b . About this time, McCarter again called Gray. " U p to this point he hadn't said b o o to me about [attending] the auction," says the art dealer. "Dick," McCarter asked, "would you be willing to be o n e of o u r agents a n d h a n d l e this?" A "flattered" Gray said yes. T h e n he called Sotheby's president Brooks, with w h o m he dealt regularly. "I want a r o o m to bid from," he said. Brooks said she would make the arrangements. She also agreed to personally take Gray's bids, which he would make from a p h o n e in the room. "I never told Dede w h o m I represented, a n d she never asked," says Gray. "She m i g h t have said, ' M m m . Chicago. Must be the Field Museum.' But she couldn't be certain." To maintain that level of uncertainty, Gray arranged to bid from his o w n house account.

EVERYTHING

CHANGED

THAT

DAY

207

On the eve of the auction, Gray, McCarter, a n d Dr. Peter Crane, the m u s e u m ' s head of academic affairs, flew into New York. Uncertain if he h a d e n o u g h m o n e y in his war chest, McCarter c o n t i n u e d to call prospective d o n o r s . At d i n n e r that night, the three m e n discussed their strategy: Keep a low profile a n d d o n ' t do a n y t h i n g to c o n t r i b u t e to a bidding frenzy that might drive up the price. T h e y also discussed what would h a p p e n if they were successful. "I said I s h o u l d m a k e a statement," Gray r e m e m b e r s . "So I wrote o u t a few words." T h e following m o r n i n g they took a cab from their hotel to Sotheby's, which sits on York Avenue near 72 Street in m i d t o w n M a n hattan. T h e auction was scheduled to begin at 10:15 AM. Their plan was to slip unseen into the auction h o u s e after everyone else had taken their places on the floor. Arriving a few m i n u t e s early, they waited inside the cab until a b o u t 10:12. A Sotheby's staffer t h e n took t h e m up a stairway a n d t h r o u g h an exhibit gallery to their r o o m . U n b e k n o w n s t to t h e m , Williams was already in the r o o m directly across from theirs. Sotheby's second level features a series of relatively small glassenclosed "sky boxes" for bidders w h o wish to remain a n o n y m o u s . T h e r o o m s are stocked with c h a m p a g n e a n d hors d'oeuvres. M o r e i m p o r tant to Gray, they have curtains. "If you're skillful, you can see what's h a p p e n i n g on the floor, but they can't see you," he explains. Crane was assigned the task of standing by the curtains a n d reporting w h o m he recognized from the m u s e u m world a n d w h o was m a k i n g each bid. Gray would do the b i d d i n g itself. And McCarter would follow along on a single sheet of paper that h a d three c o l u m n s , m a r k e d "Bid," "Premium," a n d "Total." T h e bid plus the p r e m i u m (Sotheby's 10 percent commission over a n d above the final bid) equaled the total. "I wanted to make sure we were focused on the right c o l u m n — t o t a l , " says McCarter. He feared that in the excitement of the m o m e n t , they m i g h t forget about the c o m m i s s i o n and bid m o r e t h a n they h a d to s p e n d — a figure the m u s e u m has never revealed. As Redden approached the p o d i u m , Gray established p h o n e contact with Brooks. At about the same time, Peter Larson established p h o n e contact with the Sotheby's representative w h o would keep h i m informed of the bidding. Larson had been released from prison about six weeks earlier, after serving 18 m o n t h s of his two-year sentence. He had received the m a x i m u m 90 days off for good behavior b u t was u n d e r " h o m e con-

208

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

finement" until mid-November. He was allowed to travel the 15 yards from his trailer to the institute, b u t he had to check in with his parole officer w h e n he arrived at work. He could also go to the store and run other errands, b u t again, he h a d to advise the officer of his whereabouts. U n d e r any circumstances, he had to be h o m e for good by 9:00 P M . Larson h a d r e t u r n e d to Hill City a changed m a n . " I ' m certainly sorry for the pain a n d suffering of my family and friends, b u t I think that so m a n y valuable things c a m e of this," he said later. "I learned so m u c h a b o u t myself. . . . I learned that love a n d family a n d friends are m o r e i m p o r t a n t t h a n work. It really changed my attitude toward life." " T h e worst p a r t was actually that period before incarceration when you're facing the u n k n o w n a n d have these horrible fears. O n c e you actually get to prison, you k n o w here you are for this period of time a n d you'll be d o i n g these things, so you get into a pattern. It's a lot harder on the family." He credits Kristin, w h o m a d e the long drive to visit h i m 24 times, with helping h i m to survive. Before leaving for C o l o r a d o , Larson h a d talked to others w h o had been in prison. "Everyone told m e , ' D o your o w n time. M i n d your o w n business,'" he says. He did just that, a l t h o u g h he became something of a celebrity because newspapers a n d television stations occasionally came to interview h i m . Fellow inmates couldn't believe he had received two years for his sins. "They told m e , ' M a n , that's the worst we ever heard of,'" he r e m e m b e r s . Larson's "day j o b s " included w o r k i n g at landscaping, in the library, a n d as a busboy. He devoted the rest of his t i m e to correspondence a n d business. In 18 m o n t h s he answered m o r e t h a n 1900 letters of s u p p o r t from people in 38 states a n d five countries. He also wrote three scientific papers on d i n o s a u r s a n d finished all b u t o n e chapter of the first draft of his b o o k on the science of Tyrannosaurus rex. While still in prison, Larson h a d read a newspaper report that Sue was in N e w York, being prepared for auction. "I said, ' O h god, what are they g o n n a do to that fossil? They could r u i n it or destroy it,'" he r e m e m b e r s . Ever the paleontologist, he sent Redden a long letter explaining " n o t only the m e t h o d s that needed to be used [in preparat i o n ] , b u t the fact that o n e of the real values of Sue is the contextual information that needs to be recorded as the m a t r i x is removed a n d the little fossils that are included there are revealed. . . . I said we'd help in

EVERYTHING

CHANGED

THAT

DAY

209

any way possible. It's like helping the FBI w r a p her to take her away. You want to make sure that n o t h i n g harmful happens." Redden assured Larson that Sue was being treated well. Sotheby's had retained H e n r y Galiano, formerly a curatorial assistant a n d collections manager at the American M u s e u m of Natural History, as its paleontology consultant. T h e institute did help in several ways, providing information about Sue a n d p h o t o g r a p h s for the auction catalog. " T h e y were extremely generous in dealing with us," says Redden. " T h e y were the finders. To t h e m will always go the glory of finding an extraordinary fossil. They cared a b o u t the fossil deeply." So, too, did Sotheby's. Aware that Sue could be lost to science a n d perhaps the public if a private collector prevailed, the auction h o u s e h a d devised special sales t e r m s for m u s e u m s a n d educational institutions: p a y m e n t over three years at no additional interest. While Sotheby's prepared Sue for sale, Larson's wife a n d m o t h e r - i n law tried to find a sponsor to help get her back. Stan Adelstein, a successful contractor, eventually consented. "Unfortunately there wasn't e n o u g h m o n e y in the state of South Dakota to get her at the auction," says Larson. Adelstein was o u t of the h u n t before the Field M u s e u m even entered. Why did Gray wait until the b i d d i n g h a d reached $5.2 million before o p e n i n g his m o u t h a n d the m u s e u m ' s checkbook? " T h e last thing I ever want to do is pick up sales," he explains. Apparently he was the only professional a m o n g those b i d d i n g on Sue. "In the field of dinosaurs, there's not a lot of auction experience. In a r o o m full of a m a teurs, you can't get caught up in the excitement." These a m a t e u r s could be "hyped u p " a n d moved to bid unreasonably, says Gray. "My j o b was to keep cool a n d calm. Dede kept asking, 'Are you g o n n a bid?' I said, 'Maybe.'" "Five million nine hundred thousand." McCarter followed along on his cheat sheet, biting his nails. "I was not confident," he says. "I didn't k n o w if we h a d e n o u g h m o n e y to prevail." Crane watched the floor. It appeared that the N o r t h Carolina State M u s e u m of Natural History a n d o n e other u n k n o w n b i d d e r were still in

210

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

the r u n n i n g . Gray was confident. "At a certain point, I could tell by the pace and the size of the bids that they were reaching their limits," he says. He s o u n d s like a jockey ready to make his move when the front r u n n e r s r u n o u t of steam. "Seven million." Pause. "Seven million one hundred thousand." Pause. "Seven million two hundred thousand." At $7.5 million, the crowd gasped and giggled nervously. Redden searched the room for another bidder, beseeched the room for another bidder. "Seven million five hundred thousand," he repeated. Gray smiled, more confident than ever. He spoke to Brooks. She nodded to Redden. "Seven million six hundred thousand," he said. He sounded faintly amused. "Seven million six hundred thousand. Seven million six hundred thousand. Fair warning, seven million six hundred thousand up here." "Put the goddamn gavel down," Gray shouted in the room. Redden brought down the gavel. "Seven million six hundred thousand." The room exploded into applause. " W h a t am I going to tell t h e m ? " Brooks asked Gray. She still did not k n o w w h o m h e represented. "Tell t h e m s o m e o n e will be down." As Gray headed for the doorway, McCarter picked up the phone. Flynn and other staffers and Block and other trustees had gathered in McCarter's office to await the results. So, too, had Amy Murray of McDonald's. "Chicago, we have a dinosaur!" announced the m u s e u m president. Including Sotheby's c o m m i s s i o n , the d i n o s a u r cost $8.36 million. Gray says Sue went for almost exactly what he expected. Says Crane: "We h a d a limit a n d we were getting pretty close to it." W h e n McCarter called, "the r o o m erupted," recalls Murray. "There was so m u c h e m o t i o n — s h o u t i n g , j u m p i n g , tears." By this t i m e Gray h a d reached the press area at Sotheby's. T h e trio from the m u s e u m h a d realized the t r u e gravity of the event w h e n they first arrived in their r o o m a n d saw a h o r d e of television news crews on the floor. N o w Gray faced the largest media assembly he h a d ever seen in an auction h o u s e . W h o h a d w o n Sue? they a n d everyone else w h o had c o m e to the a u c t i o n wanted to know.

EVERYTHING

CHANGED

THAT

DAY

211

Gray pulled out the statement he h a d written the previous evening. "This m o r n i n g I have the pleasure of having been awarded custody of Sue, the world's largest a n d probably oldest y o u n g lady," he said. "She will spend her next b i r t h d a y — t h a t ' s her 70 m i l l i o n t h — i n her new h o m e on the shores of Lake Michigan. T h a t is, of course, in Chicago at the renowned Field M u s e u m of Natural History." Tremendous applause followed. T h e fears that a private collector had prevailed a n d would be spiriting Sue away to a castle or pagoda or casino lobby evaporated. As Flynn w o u l d later say, ' " N o w [Sue] can be a r o u n d for a n o t h e r 65 million years for everyone to see." As it t u r n e d out, Sue probably w o u l d have been available for everyo n e to see even if the Field h a d n o t prevailed. T h e N o r t h Carolina State M u s e u m h a d been the second r u n n e r - u p , d r o p p i n g out at $7.2 million. T h e u n d e r b i d d e n w h o had been willing to pay $7.5 million, was the Jay I. Kislak F o u n d a t i o n , an entity created by a wealthy M i a m i financier. Kislak, a collector whose p r i m a r y interest was p r e - C o l u m b i a n artifacts, had been taken with the story of the T. rex. If victorious, he p l a n n e d to d o n a t e the fossil to a natural history m u s e u m in Florida. Redden was not surprised by the outcome. He says that only o n e of the bidders had been foreign, then adds, " O n e of the issues in the media was that surely this will be b o u g h t by a private individual w h o would p u t it in a vault in H o n g Kong or Asia or somewhere else. I found that unlikely. To me it was an obvious m u s e u m object. N o r would anyone have any more m o n e y than an American m u s e u m . People say American m u s e u m s are poor. I think they are rich [when it comes to acquisitions like this]. They may have a tough time finding s o m e o n e to fix the roof, but for a fabulous acquisition . . . " He says that all the m u s e u m s bidding had c o r p o rate support. Some had asked h i m to r e c o m m e n d prospective corporate sponsors, and, he says, "I r e c o m m e n d e d companies like [McDonald's a n d Disney]." After Gray finished his statement, McCarter m e t the press to talk about his fabulous acquisition. He a n n o u n c e d that M c D o n a l d ' s a n d Disney had helped the m u s e u m acquire the dinosaur, as h a d the California State University system. As he spoke, the fax machines at the m u s e u m were already h u m m i n g , sending o u t a press release written with the help of McDonald's. Media outlets across the c o u n t r y quickly learned that McDonald's would take two casts of Sue on t o u r after the

212

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

m u s e u m unveiled her original, reconstructed skeleton in the year 2000 a n d that a n o t h e r cast w o u l d stand in Disney's D i n o L a n d USA. Word of the Field's u n i q u e marriage with the corporate icons generated a buzz t h r o u g h o u t Sotheby's. "It was kind of a dazzling m o m e n t , " says Daly. " T h e r e was t r e m e n d o u s enthusiasm for the fact that the Field M u s e u m h a d gotten it

And then when John immediately a n n o u n c e d

it h a d been d o n e in a c o n s o r t i u m in a way that was u n h e a r d of, I think, in their ranks, a n d t h e n that the c o n s o r t i u m included McDonald's and Disney, I t h i n k that was even a little m o r e dazzling. So that intuition that we all h a d that this could be big k i n d of came t r u e that day. It was an international story. Global. It really was big." Bigger t h a n Peter Larson h a d even dared imagine. "I think we just u n d e r e s t i m a t e d her value," he said shortly after the auction. "I m e a n she's the m o s t famous fossil in the world." H o w did he feel a b o u t the auction's result? "Of course, we're sad we don't have her, b u t she's going to have a good h o m e , " he said. " T h e Field M u s e u m is a wonderful h o m e . T h e people there will treat her with respect as well as care. We're going to be able to learn again from her. She's really a t i m e capsule. She's not just a pile of bones." J. Keith Pvigby, Jr., a paleontologist w h o h u n t e d dinosaurs in M o n tana, viewed the result differently. "Everything changed on that day," he said at the SVP convention a week after the auction. "This sale may be the single most d a m a g i n g action in the history of vertebrate paleontology"

13

YOU

MAY HER

APPROACH

MAJESTY

T h e caller from M o n t a n a h a d b a d news. T h e Waltons were trying to steal Keith Rigby's dinosaur. T h e y had moved a backhoe o n t o the land, and n o w they were trying to take the bones. Rigby, w h o was in Boston at the time, m a d e s o m e telephone calls. Local paleontologists rushed to the site. S o m e o n e from the digging p a r t y b r a n d i s h e d a gun. Finally the local sheriff arrived to cool t e m p e r s a n d sort things o u t . It was fairly complicated. Rigby looks for fossils a r o u n d the world. As he is an assistant professor at Notre D a m e , he has limited funds for his forays. But he has found a creative way to pay his way. He leads fossil collecting expeditions for Earthwatch, a Boston-based, not-for-profit organization. A m a t e u r d i n o s a u r h u n t e r s pay Earthwatch for the experience of accompanying a n d helping Rigby on his digs. D u r i n g the s u m m e r of 1997, those digs were near Fort Peck, M o n t a n a — t h e area in which Larson was alleged to have collected off federal lands. Rigby had received permission from o n e b r a n c h of the Walton family to search a p r o m i s i n g formation. His finds w o u l d n o t be sold. Rather, he was working with local residents to create a natural history m u s e u m and interpretive center in the area. He believed, as Peter Larson believed, that a m u s e u m featuring dinosaurs would attract visitors and boost the economy. In July 1997, four m e m b e r s of the Earthwatch p a r t y literally s t u m bled over some badly weathered b o n e s . T h e y started digging a n d found m o r e remains of a meat-eating d i n o s a u r with a jaw s o m e 5 feet long. "If

213

214

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

it's a k i n d of tyrannosaur, it's probably the largest o n e ever found," Rigby told the press shortly after the discovery. "It may be a n o t h e r type of carnivore, b u t whatever it is, it's an e n o r m o u s l y i m p o r t a n t discovery." Rigby, w h o employed m e m b e r s of the Walton family to help r u n the c a m p , decided to p o s t p o n e full-scale excavation until the following year. His crew w r a p p e d the exposed b o n e s in plaster jackets and reburied t h e m . Some days later he received the call that the Waltons were trying to dig up the skull of what h a d been n a m e d the "Peck Rex." W h e n confronted by authorities, the Waltons claimed the bones were theirs. "We've been a r o u n d a long time," D o n Walton later told the media. " O n e of o u r ancestors was a signer of the Declaration of I n d e p e n d e n c e . H o w w o u l d you like it if the g o v e r n m e n t came in and told you what you could do or n o t do with your land?" Unfortunately for the Waltons, the land wasn't exactly theirs. Some years earlier a D e p a r t m e n t of Agriculture agency h a d foreclosed on it. Rigby k n e w of the foreclosure, b u t h a d been told that the plot where the d i n o s a u r h a d been found still belonged to the Waltons. In the past, like the Larsons, Rigby had taken landowners at their w o r d . Arguably, h a d those landowners been mistaken or intentionally misled h i m , he, like the Larsons, might have been subject to prosecution if he h a d unwittingly excavated on what t u r n e d o u t to be public lands. In this particular case, however, he h a d g r o w n suspicious of the Waltons after the dig began. He therefore c o n d u c t e d a title search. This search revealed a m u d d l e d chain of ownership. To be on the safe side, Rigby h a d sought a p e r m i t from the federal g o v e r n m e n t shortly before the Waltons struck. Walton insisted that his family h a d paid back its federal loan but h a d n o t been credited with the repayment. T h u s , he said, he had a legitimate claim to the land a n d the dinosaur. "We need food for o u r families a n d fuel for o u r machines," he said. " T h o s e 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 a n d p u t food on their tables, d o n ' t they? Is it fair that the l a n d o w n e r gets n o t h i n g ? " Two weeks before Sue was to be auctioned off in New York, Rigby hurried back to M o n t a n a 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.

YOU

MAY

APPROACH

HER

MAJESTY

215

"There's no question in my m i n d that Sue propelled the theft of o u r specimen," Rigby says. " [ T h e thieves'] plan was to allow us to w o r k a n d get excavation and then pull a Maurice Williams. A n d this was before the auction, when they t h o u g h t Sue w o u l d go for a million. Supposedly they already had ours sold." There was a sad irony here. T h e federal g o v e r n m e n t apparently seized Sue and prosecuted the Larsons to send a message that illegal fossil collecting would not be tolerated. T h a t seizure m a d e Sue a celebrity w h o went not "for a million" b u t rather for $8.36 million. As a result, said Rigby, the sale of Sue, "as well intentioned as it was," m a y have inspired a new generation of fossil thieves. T h e 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 t h o u s a n d s of dollars from any researcher just to look around." Rigby may have been overstating the case, b u t he could point to a historical precedent. In 1923, the famed fossil h u n t e r 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 n o t only the eggs but exclusive photos of t h e m . He resisted such overtures, b u t he did use the publicity to raise m o n i e s for future expeditions to the desert. To gain attention a n d s u p p o r t he auctioned off o n e of the eggs. A relative of one of the m e m b e r s of C h a p m a n ' s collecting party w o n the specimen with a bid of $5000 a n d p r o m p t l y d o n a t e d it to Colgate University. Wilford writes that Andrews c a m e to regret the auction. "Chinese a n d Mongol officials, hearing of the purchase got the idea that d i n o s a u r eggs were w o r t h $5000 each on the world m a r k e t . . . . ' T h e y 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 increasingly suspicious eyes." Sue, of course, did have commercial value. But it r e m a i n e d to be seen whether her price was an aberration d u e to "all those stories." T h e price c o m m a n d e d by Nuss's a n d Detrich's Z. rex m i g h t be a better p r e dictor of the future of vertebrate paleontology. Whatever the implications of the auction t u r n e d o u t to be, no o n e 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 w h e n he credited the institution a n d its cor-

216

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

porate p a r t n e r s 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 handled with class. H a d the m u s e u m sold its soul to gain Sue? Would the scientific specimen be t u r n e d into a Happy Meal character or cartoon star? T h e m u s e u m a n d its p a r t n e r s were well aware that their conduct w o u l d be scrutinized. "It's i m p o r t a n t to emphasize that by contributing, M c D o n a l d ' s a n d Disney are s u p p o r t i n g o u r p r o g r a m s , 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 w r a p p e d 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 o n e thing everybody t h o u g h t we'd do (like market a Sue H a p p y Meal or T. rex burger), we were not going to do

T h e c o m p o n e n t s of what we were going to do were in

place (and a n n o u n c e d ) at the time of the auction—phase one: the fossil prep lab, phase two: educational materials, a n d 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.) M c D o n a l d ' 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 p l a n n e d to distribute free of charge to each of the m o r e t h a n 60,000 elementary schools in America by the c o m i n g spring. T h e fast food giant h o p e d 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 k n e w it would have to move at a faster pace t h a n n o r m a l — t o meet n o t its p a r t n e r s ' timetables, b u t its own. It had n o t p u b licly a n n o u n c e d a date for the unveiling, b u t 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. T h e y needed to be studied. T h e y needed to be cast. And they needed to be m o u n t e d .

YOU

MAY

APPROACH

HER

MAJESTY

217

Since any given b o n e couldn't be in m o r e t h a n o n e place at any o n e time, the logistics alone were d a u n t i n g . "Most objects we study we have had for a long time," says A m y Louis, a business consultant w h o was hired by the m u s e u m as "Sue project c o o r d i n a t o r " after the auction. "But here we had the concurrence of science a n d exhibition. That's n o t usual. There's a challenge in d o i n g b o t h 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 h a d packed up a couple of the dinosaur's incisors. He m a d e it as far as an airp o r t checkpoint, where an x-ray m a c h i n e picked up what appeared to be a pair of 8-inch w e a p o n s in the box he was carrying. After baring the teeth, he was allowed to proceed. "Ladies a n d gentleman, I n o w present you Sue," McCarter told a p l a n n i n g meeting w h e n he r e t u r n e d . In c a m e 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 67million-year-old £ rex tooth. T h e assembled were so bitten with the dinosaur b u g that Pat Kremer, the m u s e u m ' s director of public relations, suggested the teeth be displayed to the public immediately. S p o n t a n e o u s idea n u m b e r o n e . S p o n t a n e o u s idea n u m b e r two quickly followed—along with the rest of the dinosaur's bones. T h e 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 U n c r a t e d " exhibit after the remainder of the T. rex arrived in a specially e q u i p p e d m o v i n g v a n — c o m p l e t e 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 a b o u t Sue a n d view p h o t o s of the dig. These same visitors could also watch a preparator clean Sue's bones. T h e Black Hills Institute supplied m a n y of the p h o t o s for this exhibit. Peter Larson had also talked to Simpson a b o u t 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." T h e paleontologist didn't expect to be asked to prepare bones. He did h o p e , however, that he could c o n t i n u e d o i n g his research on Sue. "We'd also like to have a cast of Sue here for the people that s u p p o r t e d us. I want to give t h e m that at least," he said.

2 18

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

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 a n d write what C r a n e 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 c o m p l e t e d — a task that could take up to two years—it was unlikely that anyone outside the m u s e u m w o u l d 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 L o n d o n . Casts the size of Sue could cost $50,000 to $100,000. Larson, however, appeared to have s o m e t h i n g 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 tradem a r k the n a m e shortly after the discovery. It appeared, however, that it h a d failed to file the p r o p e r applications. Nevertheless, Larson cited court decisions granting unregistered t r a d e m a r k s to companies or organizations that proved they had used a n a m e in the past in the marketing of p r o d u c t s . In early December, Larson went to Chicago to consult about the p r e p a r a t i o n of Sue a n d 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 a n d financial compensation. He acknowledged that s o m e m i g h t consider h i m a gold digger, but he explained: "There's a difference between science a n d business. It's sort of a difficult thing for me because I'm d o i n g b o t h . Of course the science (with respect to Sue) is free; I'm willing to share what I k n o w for n o t h ing. But we've spent $209,000 on her preparation, a n d we spent h u n dreds of t h o u s a n d s of dollars in court. We're still paying o u r legal fees. I spent two years in jail. We created Sue's persona. You could always give it a n o t h e r n a m e , b u t it w o u l d n ' t be the same." Despite the uncertainty a b o u t the Larsons' rights, the m u s e u m decided to avoid litigation and strike a deal. Negotiations c o n t i n u e d until late January, when the m u s e um m a d e its final offer: $150,000 a n d o n e cast of the dinosaur. Larson had retained a lawyer specializing in intellectual property law. T h e lawyer, w h o was to be paid a percentage of what Larson received, p e r s u a d e d t h e 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 h i m that the n a m e was w o r t h m o r e to McDonald's and Disney. Those companies were never party to the negotiations, as the m u s e u m owned Sue.

YOU

MAY

APPROACH

HER

MAJESTY

219

Once again a dispute over Sue h a d devolved into bitterness a n d m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g . Larson said he t h o u g h t the m u s e u m was unnecessarily playing hardball, intimating that if he didn't accept the offer, he m i g h t lose consulting contracts with s o m e of the m u s e u m ' s p a r t n e r s . "I d o n ' t like to be threatened," he explained. T h e a c r i m o n y was m u t u a l . In a letter rejecting the institute's final offer, m u s e u m counsel Felisia Wesson wrote Larson's lawyer: " C o u r t s have repeatedly found that your client is not entitled to any such interest [in the fossil] a n d we view Black Hills' c u r r e n t 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 a t t e m p t to profit from its original unlawful acts." (Larson notes that he was never charged with any "unlawful acts" regarding Sue.) On January 2 3 , 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 a n d launch a nationwide " N a m e the T. Rex" contest for schoolchildren. T h e m u s e u m ' s press release expressed concern "that c o n t i n u i n g discussions a n d lack of resolution would take t i m e a n d attention away from i m p o r t a n t research a n d educational objectives." Those research a n d educational objectives were already u n d e r way. T h e m u s e u m had hired 30-year-old P h D C h r i s t o p h e r Brochu to study the T. rex a n d 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, a n d lesson plans. C o m m i t t e d to a spring delivery, the c o m pany decided to call the T. rex Colossal Fossil instead of Sue. The dispute ended relatively quickly, thanks to Hendrickson a n d Bakker, b o t h of w h o m were shocked to learn of Larson's d e m a n d s . They felt, as did m a n y 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, m o r e i m p o r t a n t , a cast seemed fair. "It was totally out of character for Pete to d e m a n d a royalty," says Hendrickson. She a n d 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 d e m a n d i n g anything in return; he merely asked that the m u s e u m consider giving the institute a cast. By this t i m e 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 p r o m i s e to award prizes for the w i n n i n g names. After a n n o u n c i n g that it h a d selected Dakota as the

220

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

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 m i g h t infringe on t r a d e m a r k s already held by others. A b o n e by any other n a m e remains a b o n e . T h e T. rex, whether called Sue or Dakota, still needed to be prepared so that it could be studied a n d m o u n t e d . Because the m u s e u m ' s staff preparators were busy on o t h e r projects, Simpson hired two n e w teams to work on the specim e n — o n e at the m u s e u m a n d o n e at the fossil lab in Disney's D i n o L a n d 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 s o m e years earlier to work with famed University of Chicago paleontologist Paul Sereno. Preparator Simpson a n d researcher Brochu were hardly the twentie t h - c e n t u r y equivalents of C o p e a n d Marsh, t h o u g h there was a certain c o m p e t i t i o n for particular b o n e s at the outset. Brochu could fully describe a n d study only prepared bones. Given a choice, he would have liked to start with Sue's skull. He was already m a k i n g plans for the longdelayed CT scan. Simpson, on the other h a n d , 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 f e m u r — B r o c h u h a d plenty to d o . T h e institute had found about 270 of Sue's bones. Once the preparators were up to speed, they could, for the most part, work on any of these in the order Brochu desired—if they could find t h e m . T h e unprepared bones remained in their plaster field jackets. T h e institute had marked these jackets to indicate what was inside. Unfortunately, so, too, had the FBI a n d Sotheby's, a n d the markings weren't always consistent. "Usually you can tell from the shape of the jacket," says Simpson. "But here there were lots of small fragments a n d the markings on those were h a r d to figure out." On o p e n i n g s o m e of the jackets, the preparators found bones they didn't think h a d been u n e a r t h e d by the institute. In the end, they d e t e r m i n e d that only a foot, an a r m , a n d a few ribs and vertebrae were missing. Brochu's needs were n o t only subject to the learning curve of the preparators. Phil Fraley, w h o h a d been hired by the m u s e u m to m o u n t

YOU

MAY

APPROACH

HER

MAJESTY

221

the skeleton, was also h u n g r y for bones—preferably the hips first. He wanted to start his m o d e l in the m i d d l e a n d work o u t w a r d toward the tail a n d skull. T h e New Jersey-based Fraley h a d established his r e p u t a t i o n by r e m o u n t i n g the B a r n u m Brown T. rex a n d several h u n d r e d other vertebrate fossils at the American M u s e u m of Natural History. Edwin Cope, it t u r n e d out, was not the only expert ever to err in constructing a dinosaur. At the t u r n of the century, the American M u s e u m ' s H e n r y Fairfield O s b o r n stood the B a r n u m Brown T. rex upright, its legs m e a suring fifteen feet from hip to floor. T h e decision to do so was d o n e in part for show, in p a r t because the technology of the day m a d e it difficult to brace the d i n o s a u r in a less erect fashion, a n d in part because O s b o r n did not have an entire specimen with which to work, writes Horner. In fact, "To make the T. rex look whole a n d steady, O s b o r n m a d e other creative decisions. He added several feet of imaginary lizard like tail, which also helped to stabilize the s t a n d - u p T. rex" As a result, says Horner, "For generations, in its m o s t famous a n d influential representation, T. rex has been viewed as a stiff, long-tailed l u m b e r i n g beast." Charles Knight, w h o worked at the A m e r i c a n M u s e u m of Natural History before painting the murals in the Field M u s e u m , portrayed m a n y of his T. rex as upright, too. T h e tall, p l o d d i n g creatures in movies like Godzilla were based on o n e of Knight's paintings, as was a 25-footlong a n i m a t e d T. rex at the Sinclair Refining C o m p a n y ' s d i n o s a u r exhibit at the 1933 World's Fair in Chicago. In 1992, the American M u s e u m finally dismantled its famous rex. After m u c h internal debate, the staff chose a different pose: head d o w n , back horizontal, jaws shut. Fraley's r e m o u n t e d skeleton was unveiled in 1994. Prior to its 2000 unveiling, the Field M u s e u m was not a b o u t to reveal Sue's exact pose. Flynn would say only that the m u s e u m ' s o w n experts had designed a "scientifically accurate biology of the living animal." He explained that such a design is influenced by the study of "joint surfaces that limit the range of m o t i o n " a n d the e x a m i n a t i o n of the h i n d limbs a n d tail. " O n c e you set constraints, you have aesthetic latitude," he explains. Many dinosaurs that stand in m u s e u m s a r o u n d the world are plaster or fiberglass casts of the original. N o t Sue. Only her skull would be

222

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

cast for the Field's exhibit. T h e m u s e u m estimates that Sue weighed 7 tons. At a b o u t 600 p o u n d s , the real skull could not be s u p p o r t e d by the fleshless skeleton. It was given its o w n space on a mezzanine looking d o w n u p o n Sue a n d her faux head. T h e decision to use the original Sue, n o t a cast, presented a challenge for Fraley a n d his team. They had to m o u n t the skeleton in such a way that each b o n e could be removed for future study. This m e a n t " n o p e r m a n e n t glues, no holes drilled, a n d no a n c h o r s to the bone," says Simpson. Fraley's solution: Each b o n e would be cradled in a hand-forged metal bracket—"like a d i a m o n d in its setting," said project coordinator Louis. T h e brackets would be hinged a n d locked, b u t each individual b o n e could be unlocked a n d removed for research. W h o would b e c o n d u c t i n g future research? T h e m u s e u m h o p e d t o s p o n s o r w o r k s h o p s a n d symposia to study specific elements of the skeleton a n d p r o d u c e scientific papers. "We would like to let younger scientists do this research," said Flynn, w h o added, that like any other specimen in the m u s e u m , Sue would also be available for study by all qualified scholars. Such study w o u l d begin only after Brochu published his m o n o g r a p h . A l t h o u g h Peter Larson had aroused the world's curiosity a n d imagination with his papers a n d snapshots of Sue's life, the m u s e u m was, as Louis p u t it, "pretty tight-lipped" a b o u t what it learned a b o u t Sue in the m o n t h s leading up to her unveiling. Flynn, w h o between 1996 and 1999 led expeditions to Madagascar that found the oldest d i n o s a u r bones on record, says a conscious decision was m a d e to limit public p r o n o u n c e m e n t s to May 1999 a n d May 2000. "We wanted to wait for peer review," he explains. " T h e r e is a great o p p o r t u n i t y for public education here because of all the hype. O u r j o b is to separate o u t the fantasy a n d storytelling a n d Jurassic Park. If we d e b u n k hyperbolic speculation, that's not bad." Adds Simpson: " T h e skeleton is so complete that it actually constrains the stories." T h e May 1999 science briefing centered on the results of the CT scan of Sue's skull at Boeing C o m p a n y ' s Rocketdyne lab in Ventura County, California. In August 1998, the skull had been shipped to the West Coast after being foamed a n d packed vertically in an octangular crate customized by a structural engineer. Boeing c o n d u c t e d 500 h o u r s

YOU

MAY

APPROACH

HER

MAJESTY

223

of scans over a six-week period, or, as o n e Boeing technician p u t it, " m o r e radiation than Godzilla received w h e n the French A - b o m b was detonated in Polynesia." Brochu a n d Masek were present for m u c h of the work. W h e n Brochu went back to Chicago, the Boeing o p e r a t o r sent h i m data over the Internet. The m u s e u m received a total of 748 CT images. These x-ray slices filled eight CDs a n d could be viewed individually or stacked to create a three-dimensional image of Sue's skull a n d snout. With the assistance of a c o m p u t e r p r o g r a m , Brochu could take a virtual j o u r n e y t h r o u g h Sue's head. Brochu was delighted with what he saw. T h e scan revealed that the olfactory passage—where nerves for smell passed between the nose a n d the b r a i n — w a s huge, he said. "This thing m u s t have smelled its way t h r o u g h life." Did that indicate it was a scavenger or predator? Like Larson, Brochu said he suspected that T. rex was an o p p o r t u n i s t i c feeder that killed s o m e of its food a n d ate carcasses it found. A m o n g the other revelations: Sue's braincase was only "the size of a q u a r t of milk." Brochu was not ready to pass j u d g m e n t on m o s t of Larson's s n a p shots or theories. "I'd love to be able to tell you a lot of things a b o u t this specimen, but I can't yet," he told National Geographic magazine. "Was it male or female? I don't know. W a r m - b l o o d e d or cold-blooded? I'd love to tell you this d i n o s a u r was p u r p l e with green spots. I'd love to be able to tell you the s o u n d it m a d e . But I can't." Brochu did say that he had found further evidence suggesting that birds evolved from t h e r o p o d s . As Larson h a d previously noted, b o n e s in Sue's jaws were similar to those in m o d e r n birds. And, as Larson h a d also observed, Sue's skull b o n e s a n d vertebrae were air-filled, like those of their feathered friends. Larson had concluded that Sue suffered a b r o k e n fibula that h a d healed. Brochu agreed. He was n o t certain, however, that Sue h a d been bitten by a fellow dinosaur; what Larson t h o u g h t were teeth m a r k s may just have been infected areas. T h e m u s e u m ' s researcher also suspected that Sue had died of natural causes rather t h a n in battle. Brochu's interim findings were the focus of an exhibit p r e m i e r i n g at the end of May 1999: "Sue: T h e Inside Story." Shortly before this exhibit o p e n e d , i n - h o u s e staff began m a k i n g molds of the bones prepared in the m u s e u m a n d at D i n o L a n d USA.

224

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

These b o n e s were t h e n sent to Peter May, a highly regarded cast maker based in Beamsville, O n t a r i o . W h e n he finished with t h e m , May sent the m o l d s on to Fraley, w h o used t h e m to m a k e projections p e n d i n g the arrival of the b o n e s themselves. To coordinate these comings and goings as well as everything else related to Sue, Louis held a multidisciplinary group meeting every Monday m o r n i n g . The group included representatives of the exhibits, education, geology, marketing, and public relations departments. Topics ranged from the SueCam, which afforded Internet visitors a live view of preparation, to the Sue Web site, which offered both information a n d merchandise. A m o n g the items that could be purchased on line or in the m u s e u m store: several styles of Sue T-shirts and sweatshirts ranging in price from $12.95 to $35.95; Sue baseball caps priced at about $15; a Sue coffee m u g at $6.95; a mini T. rex skull for $68; a cast of a tooth for $44; a cast of a claw for $33; and a brass Sue o r n a m e n t for $14. Louis reports that sales were brisk. Louis also served as liaison with McDonald's a n d Disney. The Colossal Fossil kit distributed in the spring of 1998 generated the most favorable response from teachers of any packet in McDonald's history, says N e m e t h . In the fall of 1999, the c o m p a n y also o p e n e d a show about Sue for elementary schools, "Ronald M c D o n a l d a n d the Amazing T h i n k i n g Machine." Orchestrating the t o u r of the two Sue casts was m o r e complicated. "This was the area I was most concerned about," says Daly. "We didn't need to be persuaded a b o u t the logistics of m o v i n g it. I always knew that was s o m e t h i n g we could do. T h e concerns I h a d was m o r e on the receptivity—could we create s o m e t h i n g a n d make it well e n o u g h financially structured so that local markets w o u l d pick it u p ? " M c D o n a l d ' s is organized in 40 regions in the United States. C o o p s within the regions b u y advertising, food, a n d paper goods together and plan p r o m o t i o n a l activities. O n c e Sue was acquired, McDonald's offered each of the regions the o p p o r t u n i t y to s p o n s o r a traveling exhibit that would include the 45-foot cast skeleton of Sue, a video, freestanding interactive exhibits, touchable casts of b o n e s , a n d interactive a n a t o m i cal m o d e l s that would allow visitors to control the m o v e m e n t s of a T. rex's jaw, tail, neck, a n d forelimbs. H e a d q u a r t e r s provided a "pro forma of what this thing was going to look like a n d predicted costs," b u t the

YOU

MAY

APPROACH

HER

MAJESTY

225

local markets had to choose a date a n d find a site—a m u s e u m or e d u cational institution. The Field M u s e u m had to approve the venue in each market. From the beginning McDonald's envisioned offering the t o u r to the U.S. markets over the three-year period following the unveiling. " T h e n , hopefully on the strength of the performance in the United States, we'd be able to take it international so that it had even m o r e value to o u r initial investment," says Daly. Initially, the c o m p a n y t h o u g h t Sue would stay in a region for two weeks before m o v i n g on. "But the [Field] m u s e u m , said 'whoa.' They wanted it for two m o n t h s in a market a n d then a n o t h er m o n t h to pack it all u p . They have to do it right by their m u s e u m s . " As the unveiling approached, the two casts were slated to visit 15 cities, beginning with Boston and Honolulu. Other sites included St. Paul; Los Angeles; Columbus, Ohio; Indianapolis; Kansas City, Missouri; Louisville; Portland, Oregon; Fresno; Toledo; Salt Lake City; Dallas; Seattle; and Milwaukee. Disney's task was considerably easier than McDonald's. D i n o L a n d merely had to be reconfigured to a c c o m m o d a t e the fossil p r e p lab a n d the cast of Sue. T h e T. rex would stand in the m i d d l e of the park, o u t side, b u t u n d e r a shelter. Educational graphics also h a d to be created. H o w do m u s e u m experts look at these efforts by M c D o n a l d ' s a n d Disney? Does taking replicas of Sue on t o u r or standing a replica in a t h e m e park cross the line between science a n d industry? Is this type of c o r p o r a t e / m u s e u m p a r t n e r s h i p cause for alarm or cause for celebration? A little b a c k g r o u n d is in order. In recent years the relationships between several m u s e u m s a n d their p a t r o n s or exhibition sponsors have raised eyebrows a n d questions about the division between art a n d c o m m e r c e . In 1998, for example, the S o l o m o n B. G u g g e n h e i m M u s e u m in New York m o u n t e d an exhibition called the "Art of the Motorcycle." BMW, a major m a n u f a c t u r e r of motorcycles, sponsored the show. In 1999, the G u g g e n h e i m a n n o u n c e d that in the fall of 2000 it would present a major retrospective on the creations of Italian designer Giorgio A r m a n i . According to The New York Times, however, " W h a t the m u s e u m did not acknowledge was that some eight m o n t h s earlier, Mr. A r m a n i h a d b e c o m e a sizable benefactor to the

226

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Guggenheim." H o w sizable? Perhaps as m u c h as $15 million, said the Times. T h e Guggenheim has stated that it would have m o u n t e d the Armani exhibition even if the designer hadn't contributed. W h e t h e r this is true or not, corporations are "pushing the envelope" by d e m a n d i n g quid pro quos, says Ed Able, president of the 3000-member American Association of M u s e u m s . Able sees a disturbing trend in which corporations have ceased creating philanthropic budgets for making contributions to notfor-profit institutions like m u s e u m s . Instead, the corporations make such contributions from their marketing b u d g e t s — a n d the marketing d e p a r t m e n t s look for something in return. T h e challenge for a m u s e u m , says Able, is "to separate corporate s u p p o r t from content control. If a c o r p o r a t i o n exerts influence on what's in an exhibit a n d h o w it's exhibited, [it is an] absolute violation of ethical standards." He points to "Sensation," a 1999 show at the Brooklyn M u s e u m of Art as a c a u t i o n a r y tale. T h e m u s e u m receives funding from the city of New York. New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani tried, unsuccessfully, to close d o w n the exhibition because he a n d o t h ers found s o m e of its paintings a n d sculptures offensive. Able finds this a t t e m p t at control nefarious. But he is also disturbed by the control exerted by the exhibition's major financial backer, British advertising m a g n a t e a n d art collector Charles Saatchi. According to a front-page article in The New York Times written by David Barstow, " T h e director of the Brooklyn M u s e u m of Art gave . . . Saatchi a central role in d e t e r m i n i n g the artistic content of 'Sensation,' so m u c h so that senior m u s e u m officials expressed concern that Mr. Saatchi had u s u r p e d control of the exhibition." Apparently, when m u s e um staffers wanted to eliminate certain paintings from the show, Saatchi overruled t h e m . Saatchi o w n e d the paintings a n d the sculptures in the exhibition. He had also pledged $160,000 in financial s u p p o r t to the m u s e u m — a fact the m u s e u m concealed for m o n t h s , according to the Times. Saatchi, like other collectors, s o m e t i m e s sells works after they have been exhibited. Christie's auction house, where Saatchi has sold art, also contributed $50,000 to the show. Arguably a painting may b e c o m e m o r e valuable a n d d r a w m o r e at auction after it appears in an exhibition.

YOU

MAY

APPROACH

HER

MAJESTY

227

The Field M u s e u m would leave itself o p e n to criticism if it accepted McDonald's or Disney's s u p p o r t a n d t h e n m o u n t e d an exhibit on h a m b u r g e r s or t h e m e parks. Criticism would also arise if there were evidence that McDonald's or Disney pressured the m u s e u m to exhibit Sue in a particular way or c o m p r o m i s e d the scientific study of the specimen. McDonald's acknowledges that it w o u l d receive s o m e negative feedback if it turned Sue into a H a p p y Meal or action figure. Because n o n e of these scenarios appeared to have materialized, Able and others gave the m u s e u m a n d its sponsors high m a r k s for the preliminary handling of Sue. Philanthropic activities, as o p p o s e d to m a r keting activities, present the c o r p o r a t i o n as a good citizen in the c o m munity, says Able. "I frankly a d m i r e the way in which M c D o n a l d ' s has gone a b o u t sending a message that it cares a b o u t the c o m m u n i t y — b e it local, regional, or national," he says. James Abruzzo, m a n a g i n g director of the Nonprofit Practice G r o u p at the consulting firm A. T. Kearney agrees. " T h e downside [for a m u s e u m ] is if you c o m p r o m i s e your scientific mission," he says. "But the fact that you apply commercial aspects to your operation is n o t mutually exclusive. T h e slippery or oily slope is if your sponsor, say Exxon, is involved in a spill a n d you are an institution that says, 'Let's d o w n p l a y it.'" T h a t is not the case with Sue, he says. That is not to say that there aren't tangible advantages to the sponsors. By aligning themselves with the Field M u s e u m , McDonald's and Disney "coopted or purchased a credibilty that is very important," Abruzzo says. "They've involved themselves with a very popular finding, and they haven't done it by robbing the graves of Egypt." With credibility at stake, "To commercialize this would cheapen the investment," he adds. "This is brand [enhancement]. If it was marketing, they'd be selling Happy Meals." Abruzzo notes that McDonald's a n d Disney aren't the only b r a n d s benefiting from the partnership. "The advertising budget for McDonald's far overwhelms the museum's advertising budget. McDonald's will spend more than the Field could ever spend, so it helps build the Field brand, too," he says. By the fall of 1999, the m u s e u m had picked a date for the unveiling a n d had planned a week-long celebration to i n t r o d u c e Sue to the world. In

228

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

November, the Field's public relations d e p a r t m e n t sent out an a m b i tious press kit complete with this schedule, "facts a n d fun" about Sue, a description of the exhibit, a discussion of the fossil's scientific i m p o r tance, a n d the plans of the c o r p o r a t e sponsors. T h e cover of the kit featured a full-size p h o t o g r a p h of the T. rex's gaping jaws. T h e caption read: "She's been waiting for you for 67 million years." O p e n i n g the kit, o n e c a m e face to face with a cardboard p o p - o u t of Sue's choppers. T h e m a i n press release began: On May 17, 2000, Sue takes the t h r o n e , presiding over her kingd o m . . . . Male or female, king or queen, no o n e can be sure. But of o n e thing there is no question: Sue rules! You m a y a p p r o a c h her majesty. Walk a r o u n d her—slowly. Examine the bird-like feet, the massive legs a n d pelvis, the surprisingly graceful tail. Stare into her bottomless eye sockets, her razor-sharp teeth a n d powerful jaws. This is the real thing. Not a plastic m o d e l or a plaster cast. N o t a patchwork of composite bones from different specimens. These are the fossilized b o n e s of the single largest, most c o m plete, a n d best preserved T. rex fossil yet discovered. At a t i m e w h e n m a n y m u s e u m s are displaying replicas of d i n o s a u r skeletons, the Field M u s e u m has strengthened its c o m m i t m e n t to authenticity. This is Sue. T h e m u s e u m h a d c h o s e n M a y 17 in p a r t because it was a W e d n e s d a y — t h e o n e day of the week w h e n there is no admission charge. "We will t h r o w o p e n the d o o r s at n i n e o'clock a n d let everyone in to see her," Louis said before the big day. Even earlier, however, the formal unveiling w o u l d take place d u r i n g an invitation-only ceremony that would include specially selected schoolchildren. Sue would be the m a i n attraction in Stanley Field Hall. In taking this white-marbled territory, the T. rex claimed a n o t h e r victim. T h e Riggs brachiosaurus was moved to the United Airlines terminal in Chicago's O'Hare Airport. T h e curtain w o u l d literally be lifted from Sue shortly after 6:00 AM. Louis explained that the media h a d expressed great interest in Sue's d e b u t . T h e early t i m e would allow the m o r n i n g news shows to cover the event live.

YOU

MAY

APPROACH

HER

MAJESTY

229

While Sue would forever be the star of the exhibition, she had a formidable s u p p o r t i n g cast—literally. On the second-floor balcony, visitors w o u l d be able to touch casts of selected bones. Nearby, they could view s o m e of the a n i m a t e d CT images Brochu studied a n d take a virtual j o u r n e y inside the T. rex's head. Video clips w o u l d recap the story of Sue from discovery to arrival at the m u s e u m , a n d a time-lapse video would show the m o u n t i n g of the skeleton. (Installation of the skeleton began two m o n t h s before the unveiling. Securing the m o u n t i n g ' s base to the m u s e u m ' s infrastructure was a complicated procedure.) A r o u n d the corner from the skull a n d these exhibits, visitors could watch the cleaning of other fossils at the McDonald's p r e p lab a n d view additional exhibits on the science of Sue. These w o u l d include an anim a t e d video explaining h o w a n d why the views of T. rex c o n t i n u e to evolve. In addition, Sue's gastralia (belly ribs), which were still being studied a n d h a d yet to be attached, could be examined. T h e m u s e u m planned a family night for Friday, May 19. T h e highlight? A screening of the new c o m p u t e r - a n i m a t e d movie Dinosaurs. N o t surprisingly, the movie was p r o d u c e d by Disney. Bakker, w h o saw early footage of the movie, proclaimed the a n i m a t i o n superb. T h e celebration was to conclude over the weekend with two world premieres (in addition to the unveiling): a theater piece written a b o u t b o t h Sue the T. rex a n d Sue H e n d r i c k s o n a n d a musical work, the Cretaceous Concerto, written by Bruce Adolphe of the C h a m b e r Music Society of Lincoln Center a n d performed by the Chicago C h a m b e r Musicians. Hendrickson would be there, although she confessed that discovering the dinosaur has been a bittersweet experience: " I ' m glad she was found, but I wish s o m e o n e else h a d found her." T h e seizure, the criminal investigation, the trial, a n d Peter Larson's sentencing had a p r o f o u n d impact on her. "It shattered my faith in the United States government," she said. After living u n d e r the stars, in tents, in motels, on barges, a n d ships for her adult life, Hendrickson finally decided to build a h o m e in 1997. She was so disillusioned with America that she chose a site on an isolated H o n d u r a n island. There she p l a n n e d to live quietly w h e n n o t diving in Egypt a n d the Philippines or p r o c u r i n g a m b e r in Mexico a n d the D o m i n i c a n Republic, or looking for dinosaurs in the badlands.

230

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

H e n d r i c k s o n was finishing a dive in Alexandria when Hurricane Mitch struck H o n d u r a s in October 1998. She h u r r i e d h o m e to find her new h o u s e d a m a g e d b u t s t a n d i n g — a n d scores of less fortunate neighbors living u n d e r her roof, or what was left of the roof. She immediately joined in efforts to save flora a n d fauna a n d c o n t r i b u t e d a considerable a m o u n t of m o n e y to the relief effort. T h e house contains few of Hendrickson's discoveries. She is m u c h m o r e attached to the p h o t o g r a p h s of the places she has been and the people w h o m she has m e t a n d worked with. "I'm n o t a collector," she explains. "For me the reward comes in the m o m e n t of finding, not possessing." Married once, n o w single, she lives with a n d is accompanied everywhere by her golden retriever Skywalker. Although she has never had children, she has b e c o m e close with youngsters in all the places in which she has traveled a n d has set up university scholarships for several in the D o m i n i c a n Republic a n d H o n d u r a s . Hendrickson confesses that she is torn between settling down and pursuing other dreams. She has survived cervical cancer diagnosed in 1990 but has a disabling vascular problem and infection in her left leg. "I'm feeling old," she says. "But there are still a lot of things I'd like to find." Her wish list includes a Siberian m a m m o t h . If she finds one, she'd like to display it in a giant block of ice that m u s e u m visitors could touch. "It's h a r d to design an exhibit that will make s o m e o n e walk into a m u s e u m a n d go, 'Wow!'" she says. "But if they don't, they are going to be b o r e d a n d not read a b o u t it a n d learn. If you can stir children to want to learn anything, you're i m p r o v i n g society. Maybe that's why Sue was calling m e . So I could c o m e get her a n d we could make kids say, 'Wow!'" A n o t h e r d i n o s a u r hunter, Keith Rigby, h o p e d to be "in the field," not at the Field, w h e n Sue was unveiled. He still h a d unfinished business in M o n t a n a . T h e d i n o s a u r he found m a y be as complete as Sue and even larger, he said. He p l a n n e d to supervise preparation and lead m o r e expeditions. Little has changed in the field since the auction, Rigby said. He knew of three m o r e cases in which fossil thieves had robbed dinosaur excavation sites. " T h e y k n o w o u r license n u m b e r s . They follow us. And when we're gone, they c o m e in a n d steal," he lamented. "There is n o w an incredible black m a r k e t fueled by theft of fossils from public land. [The

YOU

MAY

APPROACH

HER

MAJESTY

231

auction] was good for Sue, but it was the death knell for paleontology as we k n o w it." Vince Santucci, w h o investigated the Black Hills Institute in the mid-1980s, h o p e d to see Sue after the unveiling. T h e ranger was n o t as pessimistic as Rigby. Although he had observed that private l a n d o w n e r s had started charging collecting fees, he t h o u g h t that the prosecution of the Larsons had deterred commercial collectors from stealing from p u b lic lands, "or at least it's driven t h e m u n d e r g r o u n d , " he said. He noted, however, that after a steady decline for several years, fossil crime did increase in 1999. Bob Bakker isn't willing to s o u n d the death knell for paleontology. If there was a black market a n d if private landowners were charging exorbitant collecting fees, "it's a t e m p o r a r y aberration," he says. Dinosaurs are still being found on private land, he notes. He points to the exciting discovery in Belle Fourche, South Dakota, of a virtually fully complete T. rex juvenile by a team from H o u s t o n in 1998. Recent expeditions abroad by the University of Chicago's Sereno, the Field Museum's Flynn, a n d Rigby himself have also unearthed remarkable specimens. Bakker also notes that Nuss a n d Detrich were unable to sell their Z. rex. "I heard they even put it up on eBay for a while," he says. Bakker is less concerned a b o u t c o n t i n u i n g to find fossils t h a n he is about continued efforts to crack d o w n on legitimate collectors. "We should worry a b o u t the o d i o u s behavior of s m a l l - m i n d e d P h D s a n d even smaller-minded g o v e r n m e n t officials," he warns. He cites a recent case in which the government prosecuted a lifelong collector of prehistoric turtle fragments. T h e collector was charged with stealing h u n d r e d s of t h o u s a n d s of dollars w o r t h of fossils. At the trial an i n d e p e n d e n t expert testified that, in reality, the b o n e s were w o r t h less t h a n $1000. T h e judge put the collector on p r o b a t i o n instead of sending h i m to jail, as the government wished. As the unveiling approached, Bakker, Peter Larson, a n d others were battling those they considered s m a l l - m i n d e d on a n o t h e r front. T h e BLM was considering regulations that w o u l d severely restrict c o m m e r cial collectors and amateurs. In the interim, no o n e — n o t even academ i c s — h a d access to certain lands. Bakker m u s e d that maybe the BLM should be prosecuted for the destruction of fossils, since m a n y specim e n s were eroding away.

232

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Patrick Duffy shares Bakker's feelings a b o u t the government. The lawyer, w h o left the firm with which he was affiliated a n d has his own practice in Rapid City now, says, " T h e g o v e r n m e n t was never able to create a u n i f o r m system of laws to cover [fossil c o l l e c t i n g ] . . . . It's dangerous w h e n , if we can't m a k e consensus in Congress, we go d o w n the street to the J. Edgar Hoover Building a n d try a n d make consensus." Duffy notes that the action against the institute sent s o m e defend a n t s a n d their families into therapy. Marriages broke u p . O n e person a t t e m p t e d suicide. " T h e g o v e r n m e n t spent millions of dollars a n d r u i n e d lives w h e n no fundamental right was at issue. Lives were ruined a n d other t h a n the T. rex, which was n o t the subject of criminal charges, we are talking a b o u t shards of b o n e here. That's not w o r t h happening." C o n t r a r y to the predictions of his critics, Duffy's nemesis Kevin Schieffer has yet to seek a judgeship or r u n for office. Instead, he serves as C E O of the South Dakota-based Dakota, Minnesota, a n d Eastern Railroad. Schieffer worries a b o u t a different kind of fallout from the case: " T h e tragedy from the global s t a n d p o i n t , once you get past these two individuals [Larson a n d Williams], is this: W h e n you have a conflict between science a n d dollars, even if it w o u l d be in the best interest of science, the dollars seem to prevail." At least o n e of those two individuals, Maurice Williams, was happy to let the dollars prevail. "I didn't really care where [Sue] went," he said. "Just to the highest bidder." Almost n i n e years to the day that Sue was found, Williams was back in court on T. rex-related business. T h e August 4, 1999, Rapid City Journal reported that a local lawyer was suing the rancher for $836,000, or 10 percent of what the fossil b r o u g h t at auction. Attorney Mario Gonzales claimed that b e g i n n i n g in N o v e m b e r 1990—when Williams w r o t e his first letter to the institute claiming ownership of the b o n e s — he provided "advice, expertise, a n d assistance" to Williams "in every aspect of his efforts to recover, market, or sell the fossil." Reporter H u g h O'Gara n o t e d that Williams was c o u n t e r s u i n g the attorney for m o n e y he claimed he loaned h i m to pay off a debt to the Internal Revenue Service. W h e n McCarter talked to Williams a b o u t buying Sue before the auction, the rancher said he t h o u g h t he h a d m o r e bones on his land and suggested that the Field M u s e u m take a look. But the m u s e u m a n d the

YOU

MAY

APPROACH

HER

MAJESTY

233

rancher could not agree on the t e r m s for exploring the property. At Sotheby's, Williams also m e n t i o n e d the bones to H e n r y Galiano, the auction's paleontology consultant, a n d invited h i m to visit. Why? "After all, I did help h i m earn $7.6 million dollars," laughs Galiano. Galiano accepted Williams's invitation. "I went there with two friends," he says. "We were just poking a r o u n d a n d we found bones sticking out of the same p r o d u c i n g h o r i z o n as Sue. Maurice said, 'Take em. Galiano b r o u g h t the bones back to N e w York. N o n e of the scientists to w h o m he showed t h e m could identify t h e m . "We t h i n k we m a y have found a new genus of the d i n o s a u r Pachycephalosaurus ("thick-headed lizard")," Galiano says. On a subsequent trip, Galiano found m o r e of this dinosaur's b o n e s , including part of the skull. " T h e skeleton is there," he says. Galiano has a " h a n d s h a k e agreement" with Williams. " T h e fossil is not mine. It's Maurice's. He's the luckiest guy in the world. He wants to sell it. Here we go again, h u h ? "

EPILOGUE

Eight years to the day after he lost her, he would climb into his car a n d make the same drive he m a d e w h e n she was in her m a c h i n e s h o p prison. This time there would be no reason to stop at the School of Mines. He would go to the Rapid City airport a n d get on a plane to Chicago so he could see her once again. W h e n he saw her in 1997, she was, to his surprise, "just a pile of bones." Just o u t of his own prison, he was n o t himself then, either. He knew w h o he was now. In November 1998 he h a d gone to Washington, D.C., a n d installed a cast of his second favorite T. rex, Stan, in the d i n o s a u r hall at the Smithsonian M u s e u m . Two weeks later he was back in the hall. Along with Bob Bakker a n d Phil Currie, he was o n e of only a half dozen paleontologists invited by the m u s e u m to a gala $2500-a-plate d i n n e r kicking off an effort to raise funds for redoing the hall. He h a d stood u n d e r Stan a n d talked about dinosaurs with s o m e of the most i m p o r t a n t p e o ple in his nation's capital. He h a d felt h o n o r e d to be there. He couldn't help but be struck by h o w strange it was that the S m i t h s o n i a n — o u r national m u s e u m , part of the federal g o v e r n m e n t — v i e w e d h i m so differently than had the Justice D e p a r t m e n t . As it h a p p e n e d , this was the day his post-prison p r o b a t i o n ended. He knew she would not be a pile of bones w h e n he saw her in all her glory. She would be Sue again. "I h o p e they'll let me touch her," he said

235

236

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

before leaving. "I think we'll have a n o t h e r talk a n d see h o w she's doing after all this time. I'm sure I'll cry." Shortly after the federal g o v e r n m e n t seized Sue, Native American G e m m a Lockhart wrote in a c o l u m n for the Rapid City Journal: T h e intersection of scientific t h o u g h t a n d Lakota belief can b r i n g a strange k i n d of light to the controversy over Sue. From my view, that d i n o s a u r has a strength a n d life of her own. So far she has been a great provider of stories a n d lessons. To the tribe w h o lost her, a n d to all tribes w h o watched and listened, s o m e t h i n g has been learned. This t i m e the federal gove r n m e n t has seized stone b o n e s , next t i m e it might be minerals or water. T h e Black Hills Institute a n d the people of Hill City stand in disbelief. T h e y are researchers a n d scientists, they are lawabiding citizens a n d good people, a n d they too have lost her. T h e U.S. attorney is a m a n of good character. He stands steadfast. He knows he is in the right regarding federal law and power. I n the m e a n t i m e s o m e t h i n g m u c h greater than h u m a n action a n d reaction is h a p p e n i n g here. Exactly what that is may not be for us to k n o w or say. But I have a feeling that the 65-million-year-old dinosaur is going somewhere. Her "discovery," her b o n e sale, and the ensuing seizure a n d legal battles are just part of a gift to u s — h e r story a n d her tale—the things that must h a p p e n for her to find her way h o m e somewhere. "You're h o m e , Sue," Peter Larson w o u l d say w h e n he saw her. "You're finally h o m e . "

INDEX

Able, Ed, 226, 227

Asbury, William, 52, 87, 112,

Abruzzo, James, 227

1 2 9 , 1 3 5 , 164, 165

Adelstein, Stan, 209

Atlantosaurus

montanus,

96

Agassiz, Louis, 92, 99 Allosaurus,

97

Babbitt, Bruce, 127

Alvarez, Luis, 51

Bakker, Robert, 3 - 4 , 6, 9, 16, 30,

Alvarez, Walter, 51

39, 4 8 - 4 9 , 5 1 , 5 9 , 7 5 - 7 8 ,

Amber, 8-9

84, 140, 143,216,

American M u s e u m of Natural

2 1 9 - 2 2 0 , 229, 2 3 1 , 2 3 5

History, 6, 10, 14, 17, 209,

Banks, Ron, 165-166

221

Barstow, David, 226

Anderson, David, 178

Battey, Richard

Andrews, Roy C h a p m a n , 215 Antiquities Act, 5 7 - 5 8 , 59, 63, 7 9 , 1 0 4 , 105-106, 130 Apatosaurus, 96, 98

lithographica,

104-106, 116-119, 127, criminal proceedings a n d , 152,

Protection Act, 79, 8 2 - 8 3 47-48

6 9 - 7 1 , 7 4 - 7 6 , 86, 88, 100, 129, 150

Archaeological Resources Archaeopteryx

civil proceedings a n d , 52, 66,

37,

157-159, 162, 164, 173, 177, 180-184, 188-191 Baucus, Max, 8 2 - 8 3 , 84

Archer, LaNice, 186-187

Beam, C. Arlen, 159, 160

Armani, Giorgio, 226

Bear Ribs, E m m a , 175

Arnold, Wesley, 175-176

Beche, H e n r y T h o m a s de la, 23

237

238

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Beshears, Ron, 59

Bourland, Gregg, 43, 57, 59, 6 1 ,

Birds, links with dinosaurs, 3 6 - 3 7 , 4 8 - 4 9 , 223 Black Hills Institute of

62,119 Brachiosaurus, Riggs', 197-198, 228

Geological Research, 6, 11

Branch Davidians, 146

academics a n d , 60, 75

Breining, Greg, 138, 139, 140

accessibility to researchers,

Brochu, Chris, 219, 220,

3 7 - 3 8 , 60, 68, 75, 78 exhibits Sue, 3 7 - 3 8

2 2 3 - 2 2 4 , 229 Brontosaurus, 198

expeditions of, 13-14

Brookes, Richard, 20

finances of, 13-15

Brooklyn M u s e u m of Art,

fossil purchases of, 5 4 - 5 5 , 6 3 , 87-88

226-227 Brooks, Diana (Dede), 3, 206,

m u s e u m clients of, 14, 144^146, 169, 1 7 0 - 1 7 1 , 182,187

209, 210 Brown, B a r n u m , 17-19, 2 4 - 2 5 , 197

o w n e r s h i p claim of, 6 6 - 6 7 , 69,

Browne, Malcolm, 60, 83

8 6 - 8 9 , 9 9 - 1 0 8 , 114-120,

Bryant, Laurie, 144

146, 150-152, 153, 159

Buckland, William, 3 1 - 3 2

search of, 111-112, 135-136

Bureau of Indian Affairs, 193

seeks t e m p o r a r y custody of

Burge, D o n , 142

Sue, 6 9 - 7 9 , 8 5 - 8 9 ,

B u r n h a m , David, 111

99-100 Society of Vertebrate

Camarasaurus,

96

Paleontology (SVP) a n d ,

Campbell, Lee, 166-167, 170, 174

37, 6 7 - 6 8 , 7 4 - 7 5

Cardiff Giant, 9 3 - 9 4

s u b p o e n a i n g of, 7 1 , 1 1 1 - 1 1 2

Carmody, Casey, 73, 101

Black Hills Minerals, 6, 11

Carpenter, Ken, 29, 38

Black Hills M u s e u m of Natural

Castro, Fidel, 72

History, 27, 4 1 - 4 2 , 133-134

FBI seizure and, 57, 59, 6 1 - 6 2 ,

o p e n i n g of, 78

76

Block, Judy, 199,210

ownership claim of, 1, 43, 44,

Boeing C o m p a n y , skull CT scan

8 6 , 1 0 1 , 108, 130-132, 153 Chicoinne, Bob, 113, 158, 186,

and, 222 Bonehunters' Revenge,

C h e y e n n e River Sioux, 179

The

(David Rains Wallace), 98

192 Churcher, C. S., 6 7 - 6 8 , 74

INDEX

Clidastes torto, 124 Clinton, Bill, 101, 112, 128, 163, 202

239

links with birds, 3 6 - 3 7 , 4 8 - 4 9 , 223 as w a r m - b l o o d e d animals,

Colbath, Gary, 7 3 - 7 4 , 112, 152 Cole, Ava, 146

48-49 Disney C o r p o r a t i o n , 2 0 1 ,

Cole, Eddie, 87, 146,165, 168 Commercial fossil h u n t i n g , 80-85

210-212,216,219, 225-227 D o n n a n , Kristin, 133, 193, 208

Complete T. Rex (Jack H o r n e r ) , 1 1 , 5 1 , 198

Draper, Charles, 52, 54, 88, 135 Duck-billed d i n o s a u r

Cope, Edwin Drinker, 83, 220 feud with Marsh, 8 9 - 9 9 Sternberg and, 123-127 C o r p o r a t e sponsorship, 2 0 0 - 2 0 5 , 210-212,216, 224-227

(Edmontosaurus annectens),

12-13

fossils of, 13-14, 125-127 Duffy, Patrick, 4 3 , 53, 56, 57, 62, 64, 232

Crane, Peter, 3, 2 0 7 , 2 0 9 , 210, 218

b a c k g r o u n d of, 112-113

Cretaceous period, 12, 17

criminal prosecution a n d , 135,

Crocodiles, 39

145-146, 149, 1 5 2 - 1 5 3 ,

Currie, Philip, 18, 38, 59, 235

157-159, 163-164, 167,

Custer, George A r m s t r o n g , 109,

168, 184, 185-186, 1 8 9 - 1 9 2 , 2 3 2 . See also

124 Cuvier, Georges, 32, 66

Larson, Peter, criminal prosecution of

Daly, Jack, 2 0 0 - 2 0 4 , 2 2 4 , 225 Darwin, Charles, 9, 3 6 - 3 7 Daschle, Tom, 59

custody claims and, 69, 70, 7 1 , 77, 79, 88, 100, 106 g r a n d j u r y deliberations a n d ,

Deinodon horridus, 35, 83 Derflinger, Casey, 134 Detrich, Alan, 121, 122, 215, 231

111,146 o w n e r s h i p claims a n d , 106, 113-119, 128, 130-131

Dinosaur Hunters (David A. E. Spalding), 20 Dinosaur Hunters,

The (Robert

Plate), 9 1 , 109 Dinosaurs

Earthwatch, 213, 214 Edmontosauras

annectens,

12-13

fossils of, 13-14, 125-127 Elasmosaurus, 90, 95

age of, 12

Elliott, T i m o t h y S., 129-130

early studies of, 3 1 - 3 7 , 4 0

Ellison, Bruce, 163, 164-165,

extinction of, 5 0 - 5 1

1 6 9 , 1 7 1 - 1 7 7 , 187

240

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Emery, Steve, 101, 119

Forbes, Edward, 3 3 - 3 4

Evolutionary theory, 3 6 - 3 7

Fortin, Cindy, 187

Extinction

Fossil h u n t i n g

Cuvier's t h e o r y of, 66

commercial, 8 0 - 8 5 , 139-144,

of dinosaurs, 5 0 - 5 1

2 1 5 - 2 1 6 , 230-231 on Indian lands, 175-177

Farrar, Bob, 11, 4 1 , 109-110, 146, 149, 1 6 9 - 1 7 1 , 174, 182,

j o b description for, 10-11 on public lands, 5 7 - 5 8 , 59, 63, 7 9 - 8 9 , 105-106, 139-140,

1 8 4 , 1 8 8 , 189

173-180, 2 3 1 - 2 3 2

Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), seizure of Sue by, 1 , 4 5 , 5 1 - 6 4 , 146 news coverage of, 56, 6 0 - 6 1 , 6 3 , 6 8 - 6 9 , 8 9 - 9 0 , 114 public response to, 58, 5 9 - 6 1 , 6 8 - 6 9 , 88, 112

site excavation in, 2 3 - 2 6 Fossils black m a r k e t for, 230-231 creation of, 11-12 early studies of, 3 1 - 3 7 , 4 0 evolutionary theory and, 36-37

Fein, Bruce, 6 8 - 6 9

identification of, 2 0 - 2 1

Ferguson, Fred, 169, 184

as l a n d , 1 0 8 , 1 1 7 - 1 1 9 , 1 5 1 - 1 5 2

Field M u s e u m of Natural

o w n e r s h i p of, 6 5 - 6 6

History, 3 , 1 4 , 2 3 , 1 9 5 , 197, 221 c o r p o r a t e sponsors a n d , 200-205,210-212,216, 224-227 decision to purchase Sue, 195-196, 197, 200

Antiquities Act and, 5 7 - 5 8 , 59, 63, 79, 104, 105-106 preparation of, 41 sale of, 47, 142-143 Foulke, William, 3 4 - 3 5 Fraley, Phil, 2 2 1 , 222 Frey, Eberhard, 38, 39

financing for purchase, 206 history of, 197

Galiano, Henry, 209, 233

negotiations with Larson,

G a r b a n i , Harley, 18-19

218-220

General Allottment Act, 115

purchases Sue, 2 0 6 - 2 1 2 , 216

Gerken, D o n , 104

Sotheby's a n d , 2 0 5 - 2 0 7

Giago, Tom, 69

study, p r e p a r a t i o n a n d display

Giuliani, Rudolph, 226

of Sue by, 2 1 7 - 2 1 8 ,

G o d d i o , Franck, 7 1 - 7 2

220-229 Flynn, John, 23, 1 9 5 , 1 9 9 , 2 1 0 , 2 1 1 , 2 2 1 - 2 2 2 , 231

Gonzales, Mario, 232 G o v e r n m e n t Accountability G r o u p , 112, 129

INDEX

Graffham, Allen, 13-14

Hitchcock, Edward, 36

Gray, Richard, 3, 205, 2 0 6 - 2 0 8 ,

Hochstafl, Lynn, 51

209,210

241

Holsworth, Arlo, 134

Green, Cecelia, 183, 184

H o n e r t , Jim, 11

Greenberg, Jack, 204

H o o k e , Robert, 30

Grimaldi, David, 6

Hornaday, William, 17

Guardia, Vicente de la, 72

H o r n e r , Jack, 11, 19, 29, 3 0 , 4 0 ,

Guggenheim M u s e u m , 225

4 9 , 5 1 , 5 9 , 60, 198,221 H u n t , Robert, 7 4 - 7 5 , 77, 78,

Haberlein, Karl, 47

8 0 - 8 2 , 84

Hadrosaurus foulkei, 3 4 - 3 5 , 36, 93 Harlan, Bill, 4 3 , 62, 67, 87, 88, 154,159

Hunting for Dinosaurs

(Zofia

Kielan-Jaworoska), 31 Huxley, T h o m a s Henry, 36, 95

Hatcher, John Bell, 138-139 Hawkins, Benjamin Waterhouse, 33,34 Hayashibara M u s e u m , 142 Hendrickson, John, 72 Hendrickson, Mary, 6, 7 Hendrickson, Sue, 2, 3, 14, 15, 152, 153, 158, 189, 219-220, 229-230 adventures of, 6 - 9 , 7 1 - 7 2 , 229-230

Iguanodon, 32, 3 3 - 3 4 , 35 Indian lands. See also C h e y e n n e River Sioux federal regulation of, 114-116 fossil h u n t i n g o n , 175-177 Isaac, J.C., 124 Jacobs, Louis, 85 Jenkins, Farish, 105, 148 Jepson, Glenn L., 50

background of, 6 - 8 discovers Sue, 5, 16-17 grand j u r y appearance of,

Kafka, Joe, 144 Kielan-Jaworowska, Zofia, 31

71-72 Peter Larson and, 9, 1 6 , 1 8 , 2 6 ,

Kinsbergen, Leon, 58 Kislak, Jay, 211

72, 187 site excavation by, 2 3 - 2 6

Knight, Charles, 198, 221

sixth sense of, 8, 16

Kremer, Pat, 217

trial testimony of, 167-169 Hercules, Gus, 78

Labidosaurus,

125

Hill City, 4 1 - 4 2 , 132-134, 155

Laelaps aquilungus,

History of Oxfordshire,

Lakes, Arthur, 9 5 - 9 6

The

(Robert Plot), 20

Lamb, Bob, 203

93

242

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Land, fossils as, 108, 117-119, 151-152

168,184, 185-186, 189-192, 232

Larson, Jason, 15, 23

deterrent effect of, 231

Larson, Kristin D o n n a n , 133,

fallout from, 231, 232

193, 208

i n d i c t m e n t in, 146-149

Larson, Mark, 10

jury selection in, 162

Larson, Matthew, 15, 23

media coverage of, 154-155,

Larson, Neal, 4 1 , 69, 7 1 , 133, 134, 182 a n n o u n c e s Sue's discovery, 27-28 b a c k g r o u n d of, 10, 11, 15 criminal prosecution of. See

156-159, 181, 186, 190-191 motive for, 192 plea bargain in, 156-160 pretrial m o t i o n s in, 153-154

also Larson, Peter, crimi-

sentencing in, 188-194

nal prosecution of

trial in, 162-182

trial testimony in, 171-180 at custody hearing, 7 7 - 7 8 date changes by, 7 7 - 7 8 , 79, 165, 176-177 Larson, Peter, 1-2, 3, 6, 15, 4 5 - 4 6 , 49, 69, 70, 80, 121-122. See also Black Hills Institute of Geological Research affection for Sue, 42, 100, 235-236 a n n o u n c e s Sue's discovery, 27-28 b a c k g r o u n d of, 9 - 1 1 criminal prosecution of, 135-138, 144-194 closing a r g u m e n t s in, 180-181 decision n o t to testify, 180 defense lawyer for, 135, 145-146, 149, 152-153, 157-159, 163-164, 167,

verdict in, 183-185, 186-187 custody hearing and, 77, 79 discovery of Sue and, 19-20, 2 1 - 2 6 . See also T y r a n n o s a u r u s Sue evidence seizure a n d , 111-112, 135-136 exhibits Sue, 42 FBI seizure and, 1, 45, 5 1 - 6 4 , 146 fossil finds of, 11, 13-14, 188. See also under Tyrannosaurus g r a n d jury deliberations and, 6 9 - 7 4 , 8 7 , 1 1 0 - 1 1 1 , 114, 146 h o m e confinement of, 207-208 i m p r i s o n m e n t of, 192-194, 207-208 marriage of, 133

INDEX

m u s e u m plans of, 27, 4 1 - 4 2 , 133-134 negotiations with Field Museum, 218-220 negotiations with Schieffer, 62-63 negotiations with Sioux, 6 1 - 6 3

243

(Charles H. Sternberg), 123 Lobster fossil, 165, 168, 178 Lockhart, G e m m a , 236 Lofgren, Lois, 114 Louis, Amy, 217, 222, 224, 228 Lucas, O. W., 96

openness to researchers a n d , 3 7 - 3 8 , 60, 68, 75 research studies of, 2 7 - 3 0 , 3 8 - 4 0 , 222 Rex Files, The, 28, 52 scientific reputation of, 60, 7 4 - 7 5 , 187 seeks access to Sue, 218 Sioux's claim and, 43—44, 45 site excavation by, 22, 2 3 - 2 6 , 24-25 Society of Vertebrate Paleontology (SVP) a n d , 7 4 - 7 5 , 77, 78, 8 0 - 8 5 specimen acquisition by, 138-141 Stan Sacrison a n d , 122-123, 140-141 Sue Hendrickson and, 9, 16, 18,26, 72, 187

Madsen, Jim, 143 Maestricht fossil, 6 5 - 6 6 Magill, Frank, 70, 79, 86, 88, 100 Mandel, Bob, 54, 59, 129, 146, 153, 154, 158, 159, 161-164, 1 6 7 - 1 7 1 , 180-181, 186, 190 Mantell, Gideon Algernon, 32 Mantell, Mary A n n , 32 Marsh, Othniel, 116, 1 2 5 , 1 3 8 , 220 feud with Cope, 8 9 - 9 9 Oglala Sioux a n d , 108-110 Marshall, Mark, 132 M a r t i n Marietta C o r p o r a t i o n , 68 Masek, Bob, 220, 223 Mason, Ruth, 11 M a s o n Quarry. See Ruth M a s o n Dinosaur Quarry

Sue's auction and, 207-209,212

Mathers, Bill, 153

Tyrannosaurus Duffy and,

Matkins, Bette, 53

1 4 0 - 1 4 1 , 141, 143-144 Tyrannosaurus Stan a n d , 42, 121-122, 134 Tyrannosaurus Steven and, 188 Leidy, Joseph, 35, 83, 92, 99

May, Peter, 224 McBride.Ted, 135, 144, 145 McCarter, John W., Jr., 3 , 1 9 5 , 198-201,217 at auction, 2 0 7 - 2 0 9 , 2 1 0 - 2 1 2

Leiggi, Pat, 76, 84, 101

Disney a n d , 2 0 0 - 2 0 5 , 2 1 0 - 2 1 2

Leitch, Andrew, 40, 68, 76

McDonald's a n d , 2 0 0 - 2 0 5 ,

Life of a Fossil Hunter, The

210-212

244

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

McCarter, John W., Jr. (continued) negotiates with Sotheby's, 205-207 negotiates with Williams, 205, 232

4 2 - 4 3 , 4 4 , 4 5 - 1 6 , 49, 54, 56 Native American lands. See also Cheyenne River Sioux federal regulation of, 114-116

McClain, Mitch, 134 McDonald's, 2 0 0 - 2 0 5 , 2 1 0 - 2 1 2 , 2 1 6 , 2 1 9 , 2 2 4 - 2 2 5 , 227 Media coverage

fossil h u n t i n g on, 175-177 Natural History M u s e u m of Vienna, 1 1 , 1 3 Natural History of Waters,

of civil suit, 104

Stones, Fossils, and

of criminal prosecution,

Minerals

154-155, 156-159, 181, 186, 190-191 of FBI seizure, 56, 6 0 - 6 1 , 6 3 , 6 8 - 6 9 , 8 9 - 9 0 , 114 of fossil sales, 141-142 Megalosaurus, 3 1 - 3 2 , 33 Meyer, H e r m a n n von, 3 7 , 4 8 Mickelson, George, 127, 129

Earths,

(Richard

Brookes), 20 N e m e t h , Cathy, 200, 202, 203, 204,224 News coverage. See Media coverage N o r t h Carolina State M u s e u m , 211 Nuss, Fred, 121, 122, 215, 231

M o n n e n s , Tim, 176, 179 Monoclonius,

125

Moody, Pliny, 3 5 - 3 6 Mosasaurus,

66

M u m m y dinosaur, 126 Mundy, Carson, 193 Murray, Amy, 210 M u s e u m s , corporate sponsors and, 200-205,210-212, 216, 2 2 4 - 2 2 7

O'Gara, H u g h , 135, 156, 157, 158, 191,232 Oglala Sioux, Marsh's expedition and,109 On the Origin of Species (Charles D a r w i n ) , 36 Opdyke, Travis, 112,129 O s b o r n , H e n r y Fairfield, 10, 17, 18, 221 O s t r o m , John, 48

N a m e the T. Rex contest, 219 Nanosaurus,

97

National Academy of Sciences,

O t t o , Becky, 165-166 O w e n , Richard, 20, 3 1 , 3 2 - 3 3 , 34, 35, 4 7 - 4 8

7 9 - 8 0 , 174 National Air a n d Space Administration (NASA), skull CAT scan and, 40,

Pachycephalosaurus,

233

Paleonephrops browni, 165, 168, 178

INDEX

Parker, Jeff, 142

245

Ruth M a s o n D i n o s a u r Q u a r r y , 6,

Parkhurst, Phyllis, 187

9, 13. 15

Peabody, George, 92, 93

Saatchi, Charles, 2 2 6 - 2 2 7

Pichegru, Charles, 66

Sacrison, Stan, 42, 122-123,

Plate, Robert, 91

1 4 0 - 1 4 1 , 156, 188

Plot, Robert, 20

Sacrison, Steve, 122

Pressler, Larry, 173

Santucci, Vincent, 5 4 - 5 5 , 56, 192,

Public lands, fossil h u n t i n g on, 5 7 - 5 8 , 59, 6 3 , 7 9 - 8 9 ,

231 Schieffer, Kevin, 4 3 , 4 5 - 4 6 , 79,

105-106, 139-140,

82, 112, 114, 128, 192,

173-180, 2 3 1 - 2 3 2

193-194, 232

Pyrite disease, 6 3 - 6 4 , 76, 77

FBI seizure a n d , 5 4 - 6 4 , 67, 101, 105-106, 113

Quiet Title Act, 6 6 - 6 7

legal actions a n d over ownership, 100,

Ray, Clayton, 45, 75, 87

101-103, 1 1 0 - 1 1 1 ,

Red Cloud, 109-110

114-119, 130

Redden, David, 2, 3 , 4 , 5,

over t e m p o r a r y custody a n d

196-197, 207, 2 0 8 - 2 0 9 ,

storage, 70, 7 1 , 73, 74, 75,

211

76, 9 9 - 1 0 0

Red Dog, Paul B r u n o , 175, 176

Schreier, Karen, 128, 144, 187

Reingold, Nathan, 95

Science

Rex Files, The (Peter Larson), 28, 52 Riddle of the Dinosaurs,

in

Nineteenth-Century

America

(Nathan

Reingold), 95 The

Sequin, Ron, 49

(John N o b l e Wilford),

Sereno, Paul, 220, 231

30

Shelton, Sally, 7 6 - 7 7 , 78

Rigby, J. Keith, Jr., 212, 2 1 3 - 2 1 5 , 230-231 Riggs, Elmer, 197-198 Riggs brachiosaurus, 197-198, 228 Robinet, J. B.,21

Siber, Kirby, 9, 13, 14 Simpson, Bill, 195, 199, 217, 220, 222 Sioux. See also Cheyenne River Sioux Marsh's expedition a n d , 109

Robbins, Robert K., 8

Smith, Matt, 2 9 - 3 0

Robins, Stanley, 45, 52, 5 5 - 5 6 ,

Society of Vertebrate

58, 87, 88, 157, 192 Russell, Dale, 4 9 - 5 0

Paleontology (SVP), 212

246

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Society of Vertebrate

170, 171, 198

Paleontology (SVP)

from Standing Rock Sioux Reservation, 175-176,

(continued) fossil collection regulation

178-179 Turner, Fred, 200

and,80-85 o w n e r s h i p of Sue and, 37,

Tyrannosaurus bataar,

17

T y r a n n o s a u r u s Duffy, 140-142,

67-68,74 Sotheby's N e w York, 2 - 4 , 18, 193, 195,205

143-144, 156 Tyrannosaurus

negotiations with McCarter, 205-207

rex

depictions of, 9 0 - 9 1 , 198, 221 evolutionary history of, 17

Sue auctioned by, 2 0 5 - 2 1 2 South Dakota School of Mines

fossils of. See also T y r a n n o s a u r u s Duffy;

a n d Technology, Sue

Tyrannosaurus Stan;

stored at, 6 6 - 7 9 , 8 5 - 8 9 ,

T y r a n n o s a u r u s Steven;

100

T y r a n n o s a u r u s Sue

Spalding, David A. E., 20 Spence, Gerry, 153, 163

17-18,24-25

Standing Rock Triceratops, 175-176, 178-179 Stegosaurus,

97

Stenonychosaurus

Brown's discoveries of, completeness of, 18 Farbani's discovery of, 18-19

inequalus,

49-50

Hendrickson's discovery of. See T y r a n n o s a u r u s Sue

Sternberg, Charles H., 94, 123-127, 138

m o u n t i n g of, 9 0 - 9 1 , 198, 221-222

Stillman, Pamela, 119

public interest in, 18

Stuchbury, Samuel, 32

recent discoveries of, 231 Wankel's discovery of, 19,

Tarbosaurus bataar,

17

38

Tayman, John, 121

as p r e d a t o r vs. scavenger, 29,

T h e r o p o d s , 4 8 - 4 9 , 223

223

T i p p m a n , Joe, 155 Titanosaurus

montanus.

Atlantosaurus

social habits of, 143-144 See montanus

T y r a n n o s a u r u s Stan, 42, 121-122, 134, 235

Trachodon, 35, 83

Tyrannosaurus Steven, 188

Triceratops, 1 2 - 1 3 , 15, 17, 19, 22,

T y r a n n o s a u r u s Sue

25, 138, 149, 166, 169,

auction of, 195-197

INDEX

availability of to researchers, 3 7 - 3 8 , 60, 68, 75, 78, 222 brain size of, 49, 223 casts of, 218, 2 2 4 - 2 2 5

Natural History proposals for, 193-194 Sotheby auction a n d , 205-212

completeness of, 2 1 , 28

Sioux's claim to, 4 3 - 4 4

discovery of, 5 , 1 6 - 1 7 , 1 9 - 2 6

size of, 24, 28

excavation of, 2 4 - 2 6 , 42

skull of, 39^10, 4 2 - 4 3 , 44

exhibition of, 2 1 7 - 2 1 8 , 220-222, 224-229 FBI seizure of, 1, 45, 5 1 - 6 4 , 146, 147 news coverage of, 56, 6 0 - 6 1 , 6 3 , 6 8 - 6 9 , 8 9 - 9 0 , 114 public response to, 58, 5 9 - 6 1 , 6 8 - 6 9 , 88, 112 gender of, 29 injuries to, 2, 28, 2 2 3 - 2 2 4 marketing of, 216 mechanics lien on, 153

247

CAT scan of, 40, 4 2 - 4 3 , 44, 4 5 - 4 6 , 49, 54, 56, 220, 223,229 replicas of, 155, 222 storage of, 6 3 - 6 4 , 7 6 - 7 9 , 100 study of by B r o c h u , 2 1 9 , 220, 2 2 1 , 222, 2 2 3 - 2 2 4 by Larson, 2 7 - 3 0 , 222 t e m p o r a r y custody of, 6 6 - 7 9 , 8 5 - 8 9 , 9 9 - 1 0 0 , 151-152 as t r a d e m a r k e d n a m e , 218

m o u n t i n g of, 2 2 1 - 2 2 2 N a m e the T. Rex contest and, 219

Ulrich, Wallace, 140 Ulster M u s e u m , 14

ownership of Antiquities Act a n d , 5 7 - 5 8 , 59, 63 legal battle over, 6 7 - 6 9 , 86,

Van N o r m a n , Mark, 45 Vitter, D r u e , 56, 59, 6 1 , 78, 136, 181

9 9 - 1 0 8 , 114-120, 151-152, 159

Walker, G o r d o n , 44, 45

public opinion on, 69

Wallace, Alfred Russel, 9

p a y m e n t for, 25

Wallace, David Raines, 98

as predator vs. scavenger, 29, 223 preparation of, 4 1 , 2 1 7 - 2 1 8 , 220-222 sale of, 2 0 7 - 2 1 2

Walton family, 2 1 3 - 2 1 5 Wankel, Kathy, 19, 38 Weaver, Randy, 163 Wentz, Terry, 22, 2 3 , 4 0 - 4 1 , 4 2 - 4 3 , 58, 5 9 , 7 1 , 111,

Field M u s e u m and, 195-212.

1 7 4 , 1 7 5 , 183,184

See also Field M u s e u m of

criminal prosecution of, 141,

248

TYRANNOSAURUS

SUE

Wentz, Terry (continued) 146, 149, 152. See also Larson, Peter, criminal prosecution of

told of Sue's discovery, 2 1 - 2 2 trial testimony of, 166 Williams, Sharkey, 15, 166, 169, 170, 179, 180

Wesson, Felisia, 219

Williston, Samuel, 97, 98

Western Paleo Lab, 142

Wolberg, D o n a l d , 75, 76, 78

Wilford, John Noble, 30, 65, 66,

W o o d b u r n e , Michael O., 67, 68,

139,215

74-75, 80-81

Williams, Maurice, 2 - 3 , 15, 16, 2 1 , 4 3 , 6 9 , 180, 2 3 2 - 2 3 3 at excavation site, 24

Yellow, Ron, 176

FBI seizure a n d , 57 o w n e r s h i p claim of, 44, 86,

Z. rex, 121, 1 2 2 , 2 1 5 , 231

103-108, 114-119,

Zeitner, Albert, 9

129-132, 150-152, 153,

Zeitner, June, 9

159-160,232

Zenker, M a r i o n , 2 1 , 111, 112,

p u t s Sue up for auction, 195-197 receives p a y m e n t for Sue, 25

119-120, 129, 155,167, 180,189 Zuercher, David, 73, 112, 128,

Sioux's claim and, 4 3 - 4 4

1 5 2 , 1 5 3 , 161-164, 173,

at Sue's auction, 207

177-179, 189