On
the Trail of
Roy Chapman Andrews
- By Ann Bausum'79
In 1926, G.P. Putnam’s Sons published
On the Trail of Ancient Man by explorer Roy Chapman Andrews’06.
Mr. Andrews, a scientist for the American Museum of Natural History
in New York, was at the peak of his professional career. His popular
appeal had never been greater, too. Both the general public and the
scientific community followed his research expectantly, wondering
if he really would uncover fossils from the earliest humans—as suggested
in the title of his book—during his ongoing expeditions in the Gobi
Desert of Mongolia.
Alas, Mr. Andrews never found ancient
man. (Africa, not Asia, would eventually yield the earliest human
fossils.) But it didn’t matter. What Andrews and his team of scientists
did find over the course of five expeditions to Central Asia proved
even better: the first nests of dinosaur eggs; new species of dinosaurs
(including Oviraptors, Velociraptors, and Protoceratops
andrewsi–named in honor of the expedition leader); the first evidence
of mammal life during the age of dinosaurs; and fossils of bizarre
Ice Age mammals (like a mastodon with a five-foot-long, shovel-shaped
jaw).
Mr. Andrews made these discoveries
using a unique scheme of transportation. From the first expedition
in 1922, his scientific staff used cars to cross the Gobi. The explorers
then conducted field work while a camel caravan plodded after them
carrying fresh supplies, including gasoline, motor oil, and spare
car parts. One quote gives readers an idea of his lifestyle as an
explorer: “In the [first] 15 years [of field work] I can remember
just 10 times when I had really narrow escapes from death. Two were
from drowning in typhoons, one was when our boat was charged by a
wounded whale; once my wife and I were nearly eaten by wild dogs,
once we were in great danger from fanatical lama priests; two were
close calls when I fell over cliffs, once I was nearly caught by a
huge python, and twice I might have been killed by bandits.” Not until
1930 did the twin obstacles of Asian political instability and the
Great Depression force Mr. Andrews to abandon field work.
In 1934, Andrews became director of
the American Museum of Natural History. His service—through 1941—capped
a career that had begun there shortly after graduating from Beloit
College, when he talked his way into a job by agreeing to do anything,
“even clean the floors.” Mr. Andrews wrote extensively during his
retirement, both for adults and for children, and he remained a popular
figure until his death, at age 76, in 1960.
Then obscurity began to set in, perhaps
because Mr. Andrews was no longer around to keep his story in print.
Only a devoted few—particularly scientists who had grown up under
the influence of his writings—kept his legacy alive. Even at his alma
mater, Mr. Andrews seemed largely forgotten.
I didn’t “meet” Mr. Andrews until 1988,
when I was back at Beloit as public affairs director and editor of
the alumni magazine. By then the “Indiana Jones” movies were under
way, and word was circulating that Mr. Andrews’ adventurous life had
served as the model for the title character. The feature I wrote about
him then, “Meet Beloit’s Indiana Jones” (Summer 1988), remains one
of my favorite assignments from the two dozen issues I edited.
Perhaps that’s why Mr. Andrews came
to mind during the 1990s as the possible subject of a children’s biography.
In between responsibilities as a stay-at-home mom, I put myself on
the trail of Roy Chapman Andrews. I wrote drafts of a book, combed
the photo archives of the American Museum of Natural History, and
struck up a long-distance acquaintance with Mr. Andrews’ surviving
son, George, an octogenarian in Texas. That work led to the publication
last spring of Dragon Bones and Dinosaur Eggs: A Photobiography
of Explorer Roy Chapman Andrews.
Along the way I discovered that others
were on the trail, too. Beloit College museums mounted a retrospective
about him in the early ’90s. Today, Beloit’s Roy Chapman Andrews Society
is reviving his memory (see box below), and other institutions (like
the American Museum of Natural History, which has sponsored new ground-breaking
research in the Gobi) and authors are recalling him, too. See Dinosaurs
at the Ends of the Earth–The Story of the Central Asiatic Expeditions
by Brian Floca, a Dorling Kindersley picture book. Or watch for Dragon
Hunter–Roy Chapman Andrews and the Central Asiatic Expeditions,
a full-length biography by Charles Gallenkamp, due out in May from
Viking Press. Mr. Andrews is no longer his own best promoter; thanks
to these efforts, others have taken up the call too. We’re “on the
trail” once more.