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© St. Petersburg Times, published December 10, 2001
In the wild, dolphins don't paint pictures.
Sunset Sam did, once or twice a week, in his indoor tank at Clearwater Marine Aquarium. "Holding" a paintbrush in his teeth, he would lunge out of the water and swipe at a canvas held by a trainer or a visiting celebrity. The resulting works, decidedly abstract, would then be sold in the gift shop or auctioned off.
Sam's reward: a fish or two.
Sam died last week; he had chronic liver trouble and had been losing weight. He was in captivity at the aquarium for 17 years, having been taken there after beaching himself in Old Tampa Bay one spring morning in 1984, when he was about 4.
His passing is a sad occasion for the two generations of kids and their parents who visited him at the small, two-story block building on Memorial Causeway, near Clearwater Beach. For many people, Sam was the only dolphin they would ever see up close and wet. Thousands fell in love with his "smile," the upcurved beak of a bottlenose dolphin.
But Sunset Sam's death is more than an opportunity for nostalgia. It's also a chance to think about how we use captive animals, particularly in Florida.
For decades, the tourism industry has put animals in the spotlight. Promoters have touted roadside alligator shows. Black bears pacing in tiny cages outside spring-break motels. Tropical birds performing tricks. Killer whales jumping through hoops. Swim-with-a-dolphin programs.
And of course Sunset Sam the painting dolphin, one of the rare artists who was appreciated in his own time.
Tarpon Springs resident Mary Mosley, 63, remembers the roadside shows from her childhood.
"I used to see bears and elephants outside those pecan stands, in the heat, chained by one leg," she said. "I remember my father stopping one time and handing the guy a dollar and saying, "Will you get this animal a bucket of water?' "
Mosley is angry at the culture that allows captivity of animals.
"We're a throwaway society," she said. "We exploit everything."
When Sam's rescuers found him on the beach he was blind in one eye. His liver was damaged. His new keepers decided he wouldn't do well if he was put back in the bay. So they made him a goodwill ambassador.
It wouldn't be fair to equate Sunset Sam's treatment with that of the bear chained by the roadside. The Clearwater Marine Aquarium and many other tourist attractions try to educate visitors about Florida's wildlife. They use display animals as teaching tools, to inspire us to care about other species.
But the fact remains: captive animals live unnatural lives. They're separated from others of their kind. They're made to depend on humans for food and shelter. Their normal behaviors are blunted and redirected, so they'll do tricks that make people clap.
One of nearly 1,000 dolphins in captivity around the world, Sunset Sam had it better than many. He didn't live in a fake lagoon inside a Las Vegas hotel, or at a Zurich discotheque with pumping techno music. He didn't have to take swimmers for rides on his dorsal fin. He wasn't made to "tail walk" or dance the hula, as some performing dolphins are trained to do. The aquarium staff doted on him.
And yet he had to produce the paintings, which sold for $50 apiece in the aquarium gift shop and were auctioned off at fundraisers for hundreds of dollars. And there were plenty of poolside photo ops. Earlier this year, Sam was asked to "predict" the outcome of the Super Bowl. Balls with team logos were thrown in his tank, and he was supposed to choose one. (He went for the Baltimore Ravens. Righto!)
Sam was provided three "girlfriends" over the years -- female dolphins brought in to live with him. Two of them died within a few years. As a result, he spent much of his time alone.
For decades, Richard O'Barry, who trained dolphins for the Flipper TV series, has been involved in rehabilitating and releasing dolphins to the wild, with varying success. He has written two books. In the mid-1990s, a dolphin sanctuary in the Keys where he was "untraining" dolphins fell apart, and he and another man were fined by the federal government for releasing two dolphins without a permit. This summer he successfully released two dolphins that had been in captivity in Guatemala.
In 1987 O'Barry and other activists became concerned about Sam's living conditions. Fearing what they might do, the aquarium stationed police guards around Sam's tank. Federal fisheries officials showed up. Eventually, the dolphin got a new, larger pool -- and then an even larger one.
Last week O'Barry took the news of Sunset Sam's death with a resigned sigh.
"It's always sad when dolphins die in captivity," he said. "He wasn't really living there, he was just surviving."
An indoor tank without sunlight, ocean tides or other sea creatures is an abnormal environment for a dolphin. Their sonar bounces back at them from the concrete walls. They have to swim in endless circles. Instead of chasing live prey all day, they eat dead fish dumped from a bucket.
"You put a human in a concrete box for all these years, they'd go nuts," O'Barry said.
Now a wildlife consultant for the World Society for the Protection of Animals, O'Barry said people should think carefully about what kinds of entertainment they choose.
"I just hope they'll stop buying tickets to see dolphins in captivity. Otherwise, they're teaching kids that it's okay to abuse nature."
Mark Berman of Earth Island Institute, a marine mammal advocacy organization in San Francisco, had harsh words about the captivity of Sunset Sam.
"They turned him into a circus clown, for their own benefit to make money," said Berman. "That was totally irresponsible and totally wrong."
Still, a lot of children and adults derived joy from Sam, there's no doubt. They developed a new respect for marine mammals. The question is: Did they remember him after their minivan left the parking lot?
Mary Mosley said she hadn't visited Sam in a long time.
"I didn't go down there because I couldn't stand to look at him. A beautiful animal kept in those deplorable conditions."
Mosley hopes people will not just mourn Sunset Sam. Like O'Barry, she hopes we're moving into a new way of thinking.
"The day for keeping dolphins in captivity is over," she said firmly.
For Sunset Sam, it's too late. But it's not too late for all dolphins. Let's put away the paintbrushes -- and take the kids out on the bay.