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Ship Hero Cares for Animals On Trip to South America

Tex Wyly Dived Overboard to Rescue Drowning Brazilian Stevedore

Bearing gifts for South American zoos, Dr. William M. Mann, director of the National Zoological Park, is en route to points in Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay to collect birds, reptiles and animals. Among those accompanying him is William H. Shippen, jr., feature writer of The Star staff, who here presents the 15th of a series of articles about Dr. Mann’s expedition.

By W. H. SHIPPEN, Jr.,
Star Staff Correspondent.

ABOARD THE S. S. URUGUAY. —The hero of the Uruguay’s maiden voyage with the “Good Neighbor” fleet is helping care for Dr. Mann’s animals up forward.

Clark (Tex) Wyly, 28, now a bos’n’s mate, dived overboard, last November 4, and rescued a Brazilian stevedore drowning in the narrow space between the side of the ship and the wharf at Rio.

(W. H. Shippen, Jr.)

Tex never mentioned the story during the many days we worked together at sea, cleaning cages, carrying water, feeding, reinforcing the crate of Wild Bill, the buffalo. All we knew was that he was quick, handy, cheerful and a worker!

The story came from Tex’s shipmates forward. It seems that Tex, an able-bodied seaman then, was painting the side of the ship when a crate being shifted from a hold knocked the stevedore into the water. Only the floats or fenders held the rocking ship away from the concrete wall of the wharf. Down in that black well, between walls of steel and concrete, the stevedore floundered and sank.

Went Back to Work.

A lot of men ran about on the wharf, yelling and gesticulating. A life preserver was thrown down but the stevedore could not grasp it. Then Tex dived overboard. He tied a line under the man’s armpits and saw him hauled onto the wharf. After that he climbed a rope that held a fender and went back to work—painting.

It was not known until later that the fall between the ship and wharf had knocked out the stevedore and broken his leg in two places. The officers of the Uruguay heard nothing of the incident until the ship put in at Santos, Brazil, on the return from B. A. A message requested Wyly’s full name. When the ship pulled in at Rio a reception was ready.

Tex was very much surprised and a little taken aback. He was pulled into the main salon to liten to speeches in a strange tongue, and presented by the stevedores of Rio with a beautiful gold filigree model of a Portuguese galleon, 14 inches from stem to stern; a gold medal and a scroll signed by the President of the Republic of Brazil granting him citizenship and guaranteeing him a lifetime job any time he wished to take one.

Then followed a parade, led by a band in splendid uniforms to the hospital where the stevedore was recovering. Tex shook hands with the man whose life he had saved and hurried back to work. He won his recent promotion by seamanship rather than heroism.

Presented With $25.

The stevedores also presented Tex with $25. Tex still has the gold galleon, the medal and the scroll…he keeps them in the purser’s safe. As for the $25…well, that’s another matter!

Just now Tex is almost as anxious as Dr. Mann to bring the gift collection from the National Zoological Park safely through to its destination—the Buenos Aires Zoo.

When Wild Bill, the buffalo, begins trying to bear his crate to pieces, Tex usually is first on deck.

“What that fellow wants,” he says, “is water. He’s a wild one, and he don’t like his meals and drinks at regular hours. He wants what he wants when he wants it!”

Tex learned to handle stock on a ranch before he was 16. Then he joined the Navy and has been at sea since—some 12 years. He says his chief ambition is to be a Government forest ranger or game warden.

Every sailor, it seems, wants a change—a job ashore, to hear them talk. I wonder how many would take such a job if they could get one. I asked Tex about that.

He only grinned and shook his head.

He is a pretty competent man at sea. He started out as second assistant to Dr. Mann. I was first assistant, and worked pretty hard to hold my job.

Now I’m helping Tex!

Climate Bewildering.

This shifting climate—spring, summer and fall in two weeks—is a bit bewildering to an amateur traveler.

This morning, some 16 hours out of Santos, and still a day from Montevideo, I went on deck for a pre-breakfast swim to encounter a chill wind with its hint of fall. The officers had changed from white to dark uniforms, and passengers were following suit.

Already people are packing summer things, yet it seems only yesterday the sum struck with blistering force—in fact, I’m still smarting from my introduction to the equatorial sum. The sum lived up to all I’ve heard about it, although the Southern Cross (while we’re on the subject of astronomy) was a bit disappointing—lopsided at this time of year, and not as bright as I had imagined.

“But wait,” the sailors say,  “until you see the Clouds of Magellan from Patagonia!”

Tomorrow: Arrival at Montevideo.

Zoo Ship’s Passengers Are Eager to Reach Buenos Aires
Montevideo Stop Brief; Dr. Mann Most Anxious To Get Pets Ashore

Bearing gifts for South American zoos, Dr. William M. Mann, director of the National Zoological Park, is en route to points in Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay to collect birds, reptiles and animals. Among those accompanying him is William H. Shippen, jr., feature writer of The Star staff, who here presents the 16th of a series of articles about Dr. Mann’s expedition.

By W. H. SHIPPEN, Jr.,
Star Staff Correspondent.

S. S. URUGUAY AT MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay.— We arrived here at dusk tonight, in the midst of a gaudy sunset that dimmed, temporarily anyhow, the glitter of the city’s lights—and will shove off in the morning before we sight-seers get a change to do the town. 

But a lot of people on board want to get on to B. A.—journey’s end for many. The argentines have been a long time away from home, and businessmen are anxious to get back on the job—they have to be on their toes down here, they tell me, what with plenty of competition from abroad.

(W. H. Shippen, Jr.)

Nobody on board will be gladder than Dr. Mann when our ship pulls into B. A. The welfare of his gift collection for the Zoo there has been his constant anxiety since we left New York just after midnight Friday, April 7—it seems a long time ago.

The young buffalos, including Ferdinand, alias Wild Bill, apparently will pull though O.K.—a bit emaciated, perhaps, after almost three weeks in crates on a tilting work deck, but still able to take on nourishment. For a time it looked as if we would lose Wild Bill, who kept trying to buck himself overboard, crate and all. He has calmed down, however, as he nears the end of the journey.

Four Gila Monsters Left.

After giving three gila monsters to the Sao Pau.o “snake farm,” Dr. Mann still has four left, along with the bald eagles, the Texas red wolves, the civet cats, binturang, turtles, etc. He is making arrangements from here to have them cleared through customs and quarantine and transported to the Zoo.

Another passenger who will be glad to get ashore at B. A. is Charles Twist, formerly of Albany, N. Y., who, since he was graduated from Yale in 1932, has been knocking around down here with a gang of prospectors—from Bolivia down the Andes to the Argentine, working for a great North American mining company.

Young Twist (called Oliver by the passengers) is a sort of “streamlined” prospector, 1939 style. He and his fellows—several score of mining engineers not too long out of colleges in the States—comb this continent from the Amazon and its tributaries to the lover reacher of Patagonia, searching for minerals in pay quantities…gold, silver, tungsten, etc.

They have discarded the burro—that faithful companion of the old-timer who said, Thar’s gold in them that hills, stranger“—in favor of a Ford “tin goose,” also rats on the wild rivers, trucks, automobiles and various other types of locomotion.

The aviator who flies the young prospectors here and there—into homemade landing fields no bigger than postage stamps, tucked away in some mountain cove—is “Santa” Tinkapaw, formerly of New England. Santa, as he is known up and down the Andes and its foothills, won his nickname by flying toys and gift packages at Christmastime and dropping them to isolated lighthouse keepers along New England’s “rock-ribbed” coast.

“Santa,” said Oliver, “can fly that tin goose around a corner of the Andes and set it down on a pocket handkerchief. He also can fly it out again. He can’t go back and try again if he misjudges things…not on that kind of field!”

Just now Oliver and his friends are prospecting for tungsten in the foothills of the Andes, about 400 miles west of B. A., in the province of San Luis.

He flew up to Rio to meet his mother and is returning with her to B. A. She expects to visit him in the camp—just to make sure he wears his overshoes and doesn’t go out in the rain without an umbrella.

Oliver—from the way he greeted his mother at Rio-doesn’t seem to mind a bit of maternal supervision for a change.

Tomorrow:; Arrival at B. A.