By Richard Farinato
There is probably no one in the world with access to a newspaper or television who hasn't seen or heard about the white tiger who attacked Roy Horn on October 3 at The Mirage in Las Vegas. The incident was not only big news, prompting thousands of fans to hold candlelight vigils or send get-well messages to the still critically injured performer, but it has further deepened the debate about the possession of wild animals as pets and performers.
Both sides in the debate have been arguing their case in the media in the days since the attack. And for good reason. Siegfried & Roy is one of the biggest, most recognizable names in animal entertainment, likely just a notch or two below the major circuses that annually tour the country. What's more, Horn's animal-handling talents have been touted as among the best in the world. As such, the duo is both an obvious target for animal protectionists and a bellwether for other animal-oriented acts, which are undoubtedly wondering how this high-profile attack will affect their business.
After a few days of well-deserved silence, Horn's partner, Siegfried Fischbacher, and their long-time manager, Bernie Yuman, went on a PR offensive, not only downplaying the attack but also promoting Roy Horn's management of his 60-plus captive tigers and lions. "Roy developed a style," Yuman told Larry King on October 8. "It was conditioning. It was affection. It was love." Fischbacher re-emphasized the last point later in the same interview: "That's what Roy put into the animals, love. Love can conquer anything."
Fischbacher and Horn, a pair of federally licensed animal exhibitors, are probably the earth's most famous pet owners. Their pets just happen to weigh 600 pounds like Montecore, the now infamous white tiger. Just one look at the pictures of their tigers or lions lounging about on the sofa gives you a hint of their training method: to treat the animals as family members. (In fact, Horn once told Good Morning America: "They are basically born with me being there. The first voice they hear is mine. The first face they see is mine. So, most probably they think I am a tiger.")
Treating animals as family: That's probably most people's definition of a pet.
A Freak Accident?
Fischbacher and Yuman have worked hard to frame the attack as an anomaly, an accident, the result of a white tiger who was momentarily distracted. It has been the only incident among more than 30,000 shows, Yuman noted. Their words would seem to be a response to the tough comments coming from the animal welfare community.
Animal trainers, zoo professionals, animal behaviorists, sanctuary operators, and animal protection organizations have all pointed out that what happened at The Mirage was no surprise to those experienced with big cats in captivity. Big cats are wild and dangerous animals, and may attack or lash out unpredictably at any human foolish enough to place him or herself in direct contact with them.
When it comes to the keeping or use of big cats in the home or on the stage, love does not conquer all. Special bonds between tiger and man are a human conceit. No big cat is safe or trustworthy when you and the cat share the same space. Period. The end. After hand-rearing and working with lions, tigers, leopards, cougars, and ocelots, it's something I learned first-hand.
But back to Roy Horn. Fischbacher and Yuman have issued a variety of statements to explain the attack, if not forgive it: Horn had placed himself between the audience and the tiger, to protect the crowd. Montecore was only trying to protect Horn. A big-haired woman in the front row, allegedly four or so inches from the tiger, distracted the animal when she allegedly tried to touch the cat. Horn suffered little damage to his neck as a result of the attack.
In other words, according to Fischbacher and Yuman, this "anomaly" meant nothing, and all the railing about the issue is misguided. But I'd say that a tiger grabbing an arm, biting a neck, dragging a trainer offstage and only letting go when blasted with a fire extinguisher is not an anomaly or a fluke. It is an attack.
Forget the semantics and forget the spin. When a big cat injures or kills a human, it doesn't matter whether he was playing or serious. The end result is the same. You lose, he wins. Anyone who tries to diminish the serious implications of working with or keeping a dangerous wild animal, or to explain away what happened as an off-night for Las Vegas entertainers, is interested in making sure that the show goes on. They're interested in making sure the money keeps coming in, and the fantasy of the wild-beast-and-man-as-one is perpetuated.
It's a question of economics. Siegfried & Roy earned a reported $44 million a year in ticket revenues for The Mirage, which has cancelled the show following the attack. You want to bet that someone in Vegas is interested in reviving this act?
Our Real Place in the Food Chain
Why the spin in the first place? It's simple. What happened on that stage was terrifying—for everyone involved. The attack of a large predator reaches deep into our psyche, makes our hair stand on end, and forces us to realize that we are prey. One of the premier cat trainers in the world had his number come up very publicly, and it was only sheer luck that there was no other damage done by Montecore.
Of the folks involved in the business of wild animals—be they breeders, dealers, other suppliers, trainers, performers, hotel owners, or circuses—none of them want people to think about their true vulnerability around wild animals. That's why Siegfried & Roy, illusionists that they are, served well as the public face of this industry: They were purveyors of an unreal world. When Montecore did what he did, illusion went out the window, and reality stepped in.
The terrible danger here is that people may believe the hype that surrounds Siegfried & Roy. They may buy that you can, with love and respect, turn a wild animal into an overgrown housecat. They may mimic what they see in all the marketing of the Siegfried & Roy phenomenon, and buy a cute tiger cub for a pet. Ask the City of New York and Antoine Yates how well that works out.
The Siegfried & Roy show may have officially ended, but others similar to it still go on in Las Vegas and other venues. One can only hope that the attack on Horn will serve as a long-delayed wake-up call, the one that will shake us from the dream of exotic animals as pets and entertainers. Perhaps magicians will go back to pulling rabbits from hats, and stop creating dangerous scenarios for animals and people alike.
Richard Farinato is The HSUS's Director of Captive Wildlife Programs and the Wildlife Advocacy Division.
