Dietz Lew - A seal called Andre: the two worlds of a Maine harbor seal

It was more than fifty years ago when our father first set the newborn Andre down on our back lawn. Accustomed to taming wild creatures, seals among them, we were not overly impressed by the latest family member. But like a kitten or puppy, a baby seal has charms that are hard to resist, and we were not immune. We joined in the nurturing, weaning, and raising of this adorable creature. We swam with him, visited him in his various enclosures as he grew, and, throughout his life, followed Dads reports of his training, exploits, media coverage, bad behavior, disappearances, and homecomings.

While we were aware of Andres growing fame over the years, we took him for granted as we might have a spoiled younger brother. We didnt fully realize how remarkable the relationship between Andre and Harry was until both of them were gone. Looking back now on the entire course of their friendship, we marvel at the enduring bond of trust they shared and the unique life Dad both caused and allowed Andre to live.

After the 1975 publication of A Seal Called Andre, this bond remained unbroken for eleven more years. During the summer months, Dad and Andre continued their performances at feeding time for each evenings assembled spectators. The homegrown quality of the performancean old tire in place of a hoop to jump through, Dad pulling his own handkerchief from his pocket when he told Andre to blow his noseset it apart from more sophisticated animal acts and endeared it to audiences for twenty-five years. Locals who were children at the time fondly recall watching the show with their families, or even passing the bucketgoing through the crowd with a plastic pail to solicit donations to buy fish for Andre to eat. After each show was over, these kids went back to Dads office to count the proceeds. They would then go home with their ten percent cut jingling in their pockets.

Dads portion of the take always went into the fish budget, but in 1976 the need for a new pen prompted the diversion of these funds, resulting in the construction of a bigger and better floating home for Andre. Some larger donations from friends and fans helped in the effort, and there was even enough left over to upgrade Andres mode of travel to Boston from truck to plane.

When it came time to make the annual trip that November, Andre was lifted in his crate aboard a small chartered plane. He showed no signs of anxiety, as if flying were as natural an activity for a seal as basking on a seaweed-covered ledge. Dad flew with him to Boston, where members of the aquarium staff picked up Andre and returned him to his winter residence in the city.

There he resumed his alpha-male role among the full-time seals, remaining until late April, when he was once again taken to Marblehead. Released on the shore, Andre flopped across the sand through a channel of cheering children. He entered the water, dipped under, surfaced, and scanned the horizon to assess the situation. Dad stayed long enough to catch his eye and shout the token reminder, Go home, Andre, before returning to Rockport to wait while the seal made his long northward journey.

In what had become a rite of spring, the Andre Watch had officially begun. People all along the coast kept their eyes peeled for a glimpse of a seal resting on a dock or a boat, and those lucky enough to spy one reported their sightings to Dad and the press. In 1977, Andre made the roughly one hundred eighty mile trip in four days. This was slower than his record speed of sixty-five hours, but a good deal faster than the year when, in no hurry or with some seal business to attend to, he took two weeks and traveled well beyond Rockport before turning back for home.

For years, Andre swam free nearly every day during the summer mating season. That privilege ended abruptly, however, when an ornery Andre attacked a man rowing with his wife in their twelve-foot boat. Muckle, was the word the man used to describe how Andre grabbed his chest and arm after clambering over the gunwale and nearly swamping the boat. In spite of his lifelong contact with humans, Andre was still a wild animal who did not always behave politely or predictably.

While his days and seasons had a kind of rhythm, there was much in Andres life that was not routine. As the subjects of numerous newspaper and magazine articles, radio interviews, and TV broadcastslocal, national, and even internationalhe and Dad gave many hours to reporters and photographers. And Dad constantly sought ways to showcase Andres intelligence, working with him on new ideas to keep the seal from getting bored.

In the summer of 1977, The New England Aquarium sent Smoke, a lively and lovely female harbor seal, to join Andre in his new pen, with the hope that they might produce a baby Andre (or Andrea). The stay was intended to be brief, but was extended to October as the two seals developed an obvious fondness for one another. Dad taught Smoke a few tricks, which enhanced the daily show, but the romance failed to produce more than mutual adoration. After Smoke was returned to Boston, a lonely Andre paced back and forth underwater for days. The two were reunited at the aquarium that winter, and Smoke came back to Rockport in the spring for a few more months, but their love affair remained pup-less.

Late in the summer of 1978, Andre began training for the unveiling of his own statue. Jane Wasey, a well-known sculptor who lived locally, wished to immortalize Andre in stone, and her request to Rockports town fathers to place a statue in the Marine Park was gratefully granted.

Starting with a four-ton slab of granite donated by a quarry in nearby Union, Ms. Wasey labored for over a year on her creation. She presented her gift to the people of the Town of Rockport in a public ceremony on a sparkling Sunday in October. While the high school band played and hundreds of people looked on, Harry released Andre from his pen as a volunteer on shore threw the rope attached to the sculptures canvas covering into the water. Get the rope, Andre, Dad commanded. Andre dove, came up with the ropes knotted end firmly in his teeth, and, swimming back toward his pen, pulled the cover off the statue to reveal a work of art that will endure for generations. Based on land yet looking forever seaward, the granite Andre embodies the seals double life. The statue remains the focal point of the park, where visiting children are free to climb on its larger-than-life back and put their arms around its fat neck. But on that day, as the crowd cheered their approval, Andre was only interested in gulping down the juicy chunks of mackerel that were his reward for a job well done.

Speaking at a banquet for the Maine Press Association not long after the unveiling, Governor Joe Brennan stated that the media gave too much attention to the antics of Andre and not enough to what he considered the important issues of the day. One reporter heard gasps and noted dropping jaws. The next days headlinesHe Said What About Andre?, Governors Andre Speech Seals Fate)caused such a pro-Andre uproar that, when he was running for re-election, Governor Brennan made the trip to Rockport from the State Capitol in Augusta to make amends with the wronged seal.

Standing with his honored guest on the platform inside the floating pen, Dad asked, What do you think of the governor, Andre? To the delight of onlookers, Andre snorted his famous raspberry. Shame on you, Andre, Dad scolded, and Andre covered his eyes with a flipper. This brought forth an apology from the governor, who then leaned down to shake Andres flipper. Now show the governor what you really think of him, said Dad. Andre rapidly smacked his flippers on his wet belly, the governor fed him a chunk of herring, and all was forgiven. Brennan thanked Dad, who was a crusty independent in more than just politics and later remarked that Brennan and gotten some good mileage out of all the coverage. The governor went on to win the election by a comfortable margin.