A 1900s bear pit brought joy and 'foolhardy' behavior to Riverside Park, then bear steaks
At the turn of the 19th century, Indianapolis residents had an appetite to see bears at Riverside Park.
Their demand for the beasts derived from their dream to turn the grassy park into a zoological wonder — a desire shared by the city’s park board. By 1901, the space became home to many animals, including monkeys, pheasants, wolves and possums.
But the park board had a particular desire to make bears part of their vision.
A 20-foot-diameter circular cage went up near the hillside of the park. It would for years house two bears and draw flocks of people who would ogle, or in more egregious cases, taunt.
The day Mary Kate died: Colts' Ryan Kelly, wife Emma held daughter, kissed her and cried
Past newspaper articles and postcards from the Indiana Historical Society provide some of the only glimpses into the once famous bear pit, which shuttered before the 1920s. The stories depict pieces of the pit’s existence, the bears’ lives and when the animals became the target of human appetite again — which marked the pit's demise.
Indianapolis residents were 'gluttons' for zoo animals
In 1899, the bear pit was constructed near a hillside at Riverside, complete with 7-foot iron fences circling the cage. Upon completion, the search for the bears to fill that vacancy began.
The Indianapolis Journal that year reported the city’s park superintendent, and a member of the park’s board, intended to travel to Arcadia, Van Buren and Elkhart to search for the animals. They vowed “never to see home again” until they secured two bears.
The following year, the Indianapolis News reported black bears Dick and Grace occupied the pit, both arriving from Arcadia. Dick, who eventually grew to weigh 800 pounds, traveled considerably in his past before being placed in the pit. He and his previous owner made a brief career of performing dances in the streets, before his owner ended their partnership. As for Grace, not much was known about her past or weight.
By that time, eight deer lived in an enclosure at the park near West 30th Street and the White River, along with numerous other birds and animals in the park.
“The Riverside folks,” one resident recalled years later, “were gluttons for alligators with numerous saurian reptiles ranging from pocket-size to eight-footers. Riverside also had a couple black bears, a monkey house fully of sassy simians and hundreds of other animals such as wolves, foxes and possums,”
As popular of a spectacle as the bear pit was, park employees also said it served as a “revelation” to the "foolhardy" of spectators.
Four years after the bears moved into Riverside, park board officials were forced to raise the pit’s fence due to schoolchildren trying to reach their arms through the fence to pet the bears or throw stones at them.
The park superintendent at the time told the Indianapolis News that young boys would climb around the inside of the railing, and called the fact no one got injured during that time "pure luck.”
The rambunctious behavior of guests plagued the bear pit before park officials raised the fence, too. In 1902, a man named Michael Buchmeyer climbed over the safety barrier between guests and the pit to get a closer look at the sleeping Grace and Dick. The Indianapolis Journal reported Buchmeyer reached his hand into the pit, and Dick readily approached.
Instead of receiving a friendly pet, Dick bit into the young man’s arm and “forcefully lacerated” his muscles, the story said.
Buchmeyer stumbled back over the railing and called for help. A custodian came to the rescue, and Buchmeyer was taken away in a buggy to a hospital. Doctors told reporters they did not consider the injury to have permanent damage.
A half hour later, another man climbed over the railing of the bear pit, the newspaper continued. The custodian barked at him to leave.
Dick's death was reported in 1909. The newspaper stated he became ill and refused food, causing him to become more weak. The city had one bear left upon Dick's death, the newspaper said, but their name was not mentioned.
The bear pit 'meats' its demise
In 1917, more than a decade after the bear pit launched, the Indianapolis Star reported its official end through unsavory, or savory depending on how you look at it, news.
Old Molly, a bear resident of the pit for years, was sold by park officials for $40 and slaughtered to become steak. The Sanitary Fish Market, at 110 East Market St., displayed her hide for any passersby to see, as well as the steaks selling for 75 cents a cut.
A proprietor of the market falsely advertised they had shot the bear in Wisconsin to get the meat.
“Why, if people knew the meat was from the bear at Riverside Park, they wouldn’t buy it, and we’re in about $100 on the bear,” Nelson Gibson said.
The newspaper article commented that the death of Old Molly — a cinnamon bear — as bear steaks marked the end of the zoo at Riverside Park. By then, the coyotes, elk, deer, monkeys and even snakes that became part of the attraction were gone. The decline of the Riverside Park zoo matched a nationwide trend at the time with other attractions. Wartime preservation, the article stated, prevailed.
Contact Sarah Nelson at 317-503-7514 or sarah.nelson@indystar.com
This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: Bear pit at 1900s Riverside Park Indianapolis drew crowds, then steaks
