Last week, Happy, a female elephant who had lived at the Bronx Zoo since 1977, died at the age of 55. It was reported that she was euthanized after long battles with organ problems, various tumors, and arthritis. Being a child in and adjacent to New York City in the 1970s, I’ve always considered Happy and her zoomates Grumpy, Patty, and Maxine part of my shared culture growing up. If her estimated age is correct, Happy was only a few months older than me. 

Happy and Grumpy were two of seven baby elephants captured in Thailand in the early 1970s and sold for $800 to a petting zoo (some reports say Florida, others California). Each calf was named for one of the dwarfs as in “Snow White and the Seven.” 

I was in first grade when the Bronx Zoo acquired Happy and Grumpy for what became their Wild Asia exhibit along its Skyfari monorail. It was considered a groundbreaking installation at the time for its ethical-leaning, free range habitat setup. As I was meeting the kids I would know through high school and learning to read and write, Happy and Grumpy were being acclimated to Patty and Maxine. Various big cats, rhinos, red pandas, antelope, etc. lived nearby in secluded sections of the 38 acres of previously undeveloped Bronx swamp land. As I played foursquare and climbed jungle gyms, Happy lived in a quasi jungle by day, and a much smaller confined space at night and in the winter. 

I think I was around seven or eight the first time I rode Skyfari the monorail, then called Bengali Express. I remember the giant sugar lollipops that came in 70s pastel “flavors” (that resembled actual flavors in the same way carob resembles chocolate) with the Wild Asia logo featuring the various animals printed on it in colored frosting. Aside from a section over the Bronx River, Skyfari has no real city views. So, if you ignored the adjacent concrete and unavoidable schmutz, back in the day, it felt like an incredibly cool and awe-inspiring escape to far-away lands, and the animals always appeared below as if on cue. (Animal crap is a summer-in-the city smell anyway, so you really could be anywhere.)  

Memory is weird. I remember petting at least one of the elephants when I was a kid. Could that be? I checked and yes, up until the late 1980s, the elephants, though part of Wild Asia nature conservancy, were subject to rigorous training and made to give rides and submit to various children’s zoo situations. When I was learning to play piano and tennis, and found out what a training bra was through Judy Blume books, Happy was being trained to sit on her hind legs and pretend to play tug o’ war with a step sibling. 

By the early 2000s I was already married, then divorced, and trying on different hats in the metaphorical sense. I had dealt with my fair share of mean girl style social ostracism at various points along the way as most girls do, but one day, some feeling or internal proboscidean argument made Patty and Maxine physically gang up on Happy and Grumpy. Grumpy had to be euthanized because of the severity of her injuries. Happy was permanently separated from the other two out of an abundance of caution, though eventually introduced to a new roomie, Sammie. However, in 2005, Sammie went into kidney failure and didn’t make it. Welcome to the single life, Happy. 

2005 was the year I completed wine school and switched careers to be in the drinks industry, and Happy demonstrated cognitive self-awareness (like dolphins, apes, and humans of the non-sovereign variety who don’t expect images of their visage printed on currency in their lifetime) by touching an X marked on her forehead with her trunk while gazing at her reflection in a mirror. Animal rights groups tried to defend that this was proof she was illegally confined. They contested that elephants are not only self aware but naturally social and should live in groups—if not in the wild, then at least a proper sanctuary. Though the cases were struck down in court, it’s possible her example will open the door for other animal rights legal battles surrounding confinement. 

Since the end of lockdown, I can go to bars and socialize with friends and family whenever I want to, but Happy lived alone, save for her human keepers and veterinarians, since 2005. Maxine died in 2018. Patty, now believed to be 57, is still there, occasionally wandering into an enclosure tricked up to resemble an Asian plain as kids screech from a tram 100 feet above, and lions, she would otherwise have never heard in her lifetime, roar in the distance. 

It was somewhat of a shock to read about Happy’s passing last week. Although honestly, until then, I was unaware elephants can live that many years. My uncle Richard Schuster was a doctorate in animal psychology. No, this did not mean that a zebra would lie on a couch and tell him about their mother. But his specialty was studying the social behavior of animals that lived in packs, like lions and gazelles. I never got to hear his take on the Bronx Zoo elephants, but I’m sure he would have had a lot to say about Happy’s obituaries, what they got right and what they didn’t cover or got wrong. We would have undoubtedly had this discussion over a pastrami sandwich and some smoky Scotch.

Anyway, thank you for sticking around as long as you did, Happy. You were a true New York icon.