Keiko was a hugely beloved adventure park attraction. He was also captured in the wild and taken away from his mother when he was just a calf. When Hollywood learned about him, a colossal effort began to un-tame him and send him back to the ocean. Visit thisamericanlife.org/lifepartners to sign up for our premium subscription.Prologue: Ira introduces a new series from Serial Productions and The New York Times. "The Good Whale" is about the killer whale Keiko and is reported by Daniel Alarcón. (2 minutes)Act One: Daniel Alarcón takes us back to the early 90’s when Keiko lived in an adventure park in Mexico City, swimming with human friends. (43 minutes)Act Two: Producer Diane Wu travels to Minnesota, where the turkey set to be pardoned by The President of the United States later this month is having the turkiness trained out of him. (10 minutes)Transcripts are available at thisamericanlife.orgThis American Life privacy policy.Learn more about sponsor message choices.
Chapter 1: What is the story of Keiko the Killer Whale?
I don't know about you, but you know what I think would feel great today? An animal story. And not one of the stories where the animals are some metaphor for human beings and we see ourselves through their actions and learn some important lesson. No, no, no, no.
I'm talking about an old-fashioned animal story where you hear about some amazing creature in some surprising situation and that creature then does things that have such personality and seem so specifically them, you know, it just gets to you. I am pleased to say we have a story like that for you today.
And the creature is not a dog or a cat or a bunny or a horse or any other lovable creatures you usually find in this kind of story. It's an orca, a killer whale, that we humans captured from the wild, took from his mother and trained to be completely tame and live alongside us.
This killer whale was so tame that at night, when his trainers went home and he was all alone, he would watch TV from inside his tank, He liked old Andy Griffith reruns and action movies. And that continued for years until one day we got the idea that maybe this killer whale didn't need to continue as a giant domesticated pet.
Maybe it would be possible for him to lead a very different life in the wild again. Today's story comes from our co-workers at Serial. They, of course, have done so many remarkable series that have changed everybody's expectations of what you can do in a podcast. I have been sitting in on read-throughs of drafts of episodes of this new series for a year now.
I'm one of the people who gives editing notes. And whenever we do one of these listening sessions, I have to say it's always one of the best parts of my week. I really love this story. One of my favorite things they've ever done. This new series is called The Good Whale. Six episodes long, including, I'm not kidding, a musical episode. Maybe I'll tell you about that later.
They launched their first two episodes this week. And we're going to play you episode one of their show right now. And then after the break, we have another story, not from Serial, but a story that we made about animals and what we expect of them. From WBEZ Chicago, it's This American Life. I'm Ira Glass.
Danielle Alarcon, the novelist and journalist and host of Radio Ambulante, is the host of this new show for Serial. And with that, I will turn things over to Danielle. Here's episode one of their show.
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Chapter 2: How was Keiko captured and trained?
Our story begins in the early 90s with an orca named Keiko. He's just entering his teenage years, living at an amusement park in Mexico City called Reino Aventura, or Adventure Kingdom. He's not from there, but for the last seven years, a tank in this polluted, landlocked megacity more than 7,000 feet above sea level has been his home.
Before that, it was a marine park in Canada, where he was bullied by the other orcas. Before that, it was a tank in a big concrete building in Iceland, where he was kept for about three years, unable to see the sky. And even before that, it was the North Atlantic, where he was captured and separated from his mom and the rest of his whale pod, probably when he was around two.
I don't think I really understood how traumatic this could have been until I learned that male killer whales are essentially mama's boys. And not just when they're young, but basically their entire lives. Even as adults, they might swim by their mother's side. They depend on her. A mother orca might catch a fish, bite it in two, and give half to her son.
This kind of closeness is documented in male orcas well into their 20s or 30s. And Keiko was deprived of the chance to have that. At age two, Keiko would probably still have been swimming in his mother's slipstream, still mastering the language of his pod. He wouldn't have yet learned how to hunt on his own.
Chapter 3: What was Keiko's life like at Reino Aventura?
Despite weighing more than a thousand pounds, in developmental terms, Keiko would have been just a baby, ripped from his mother, from everything he'd ever known, and from a life that may have been largely spent by her side. So of course it's hard to talk about a pool in a Mexican amusement park as a substitute for any of that.
But what I can say is that the people who work there, they truly, sincerely love Keiko. They are, for all intents and purposes, his pod.
Well, obviously, my purpose in life at that time, it was Keiko and Keiko only.
That's Renata Fernandez, who worked with Keiko at Reino Aventura.
Before having kids, he was my kid. He was my baby. I mean, I had boyfriends back then, but they were not that important as Keiko. I had to break up with two boyfriends because I spent most of my time with him. I mean, I worked there for seven years, and it was the best seven years of my life.
Renata started at Reino Aventura when she was 20 years old. She chopped frozen fish, mopped the pool deck, and eventually worked her way up to be one of Keiko's trainers. Working with a killer whale had long been a dream of hers. And even now, when she talks about Keiko, she sounds the way a mother might when reminiscing about her kid's childhood.
She remembers all of Keiko's favorite games, his favorite toys, his favorite playmate.
His best friend was a dolphin named Richie, and they would just play nonstop. And between shows, he would just have Richie on top of him, just kind of like giving him a ride.
If Keiko had his moods or played favorites, well, Renata says that was just part of who he was.
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Chapter 4: How did the movie Free Willy change Keiko's fate?
Keiko, Keiko, Keiko, viva Keiko!
He even starred in a telenovela as himself. And then there were the shows, when visitors got to see their beloved pet up close. Reina Aventura doesn't exist anymore, not under that name anyway. It's since been acquired by Six Flags. But back in its heyday, in the early 90s, Keiko was the star attraction. And these shows, they were legendary.
At the peak of his fame, there might have been 200 people lining up a couple of hours before the gates opened. A pair of clowns marched around, playing trumpets, entertaining Keiko's fans as they filed in. On weekends, there were three shows a day, more than 3,000 seats, consistently packed. I had Renata walk me through one of the routines.
First, it was the sea lions, then the dolphins, including Richie, and then... We would open the pen and Keiko would come out jumping.
So the people would just go crazy, obviously. So that was the show, and after that, all the trainers would come out, go greet people and take pictures with people.
There were so many people clamoring to see Keiko up close that his veterinarian told me they set up a kind of receiving line. He even compared the crowds to the believers who wait in line to see the Virgin of Guadalupe. That reverential. That devoted. So that's Keiko, occasional TV star, quasi-saint, telepathic confidant, and best friend to countless Mexican children. And this was his life.
Constant attention from his trainers, games with his favorite dolphin buddies, performances for thousands of adoring fans. But it was all about to change. In 1992, Radio Aventura was set to close for some much-needed renovations, which meant Keiko had some free time. Six months with no shows and no crowds.
So when a production company proposed to film a movie with Keiko, the park's director, Oscar Porter, thought, what the hell? Why not? It wasn't much money, but it might keep Keiko entertained. Once he said yes to the movie, Porter didn't give it much more thought.
He was busy overseeing all the details of the park's upgrades, the installation of new rides, new contracts with vendors, more than 600 employees. He told me he didn't even read the script. But that script is why we're telling this story.
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Chapter 5: What challenges did Keiko face while in captivity?
In Mexico, Reino Aventura and the staff were suddenly having to defend themselves in ways they hadn't before, trying to convince crusading celebrities and animal rights activists that they did indeed care about Keiko's well-being.
When Life magazine published an article describing Keiko's tank as a cesspool, Reino Aventura's director, Oscar Porter, sent a letter claiming the magazine had gotten it all wrong, that Keiko's water was, quote, "...clean and clear." Back in Hollywood, Warner Brothers was getting hammered too. Bags and bags of mail from kids arrived at the offices, all demanding the same thing. Free Willy.
Or rather, free Keiko. And so, if the studio wanted to avoid a PR nightmare and not break the hearts of millions of children, then it was clear. Someone had to save it in real life.
Danielle Alarcon.
That's after the break, when our program continues. This is American Life.
We pick up the story of Keiko, where we left off. Here's Danielle Alarcon.
For centuries, we humans hunted and killed whales as if their numbers were infinite. And over time, we got better and better at it. More efficient, more ruthless, extracting more value from each kill. We harvested their blubber, their organs, their baleen, their meat, and it was all transformed into everyday commercial products, from makeup to heating oil.
More than 700,000 whales were killed in the 1960s. Whaling was a huge global industry, with profits to match. The killing of orcas was a little different, since they didn't have much to offer us, commercially speaking. But humans being humans, we killed them anyway. For fear, for sport, for bloodlust.
Fishermen trawling for herring or salmon saw them as competitors, so they would shoot them on sight. The U.S. Navy would use orcopods for target practice. All told, it's estimated that some 3 million individual whales were killed by humans in the 20th century.
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Chapter 6: What efforts were made to rescue and rehabilitate Keiko?
He's out to dinner with a few colleagues when somebody comes up to the table and says, Is Mr. Phillips here?
We have a call for you. Mr. Donner is is calling. And I'm like, oh, my goodness, this is Dick Donner calling from Hollywood. Like what is and and there's Dick and he's like all in a flutter.
I haven't introduced you to Dick Donner yet, but I did mention his wife, Lauren Schuller Donner. Together, they were a legit Hollywood power couple producing or directing blockbusters like The Goonies and Superman. Dick has since passed away, but Lauren told me that they both were self-proclaimed animal lunatics. David actually worked with the couple before.
They asked him to consult on a few lines of pro-dolphin dialogue in the buddy cop movie Lethal Weapon 2.
Hey, hey, what's that you're eating, Dad? All right, my tuna fish sandwich. Tuna?
Daddy, you can't eat tuna. I can't eat what? Dad killed Flipper. We're boycotting tuna, honey, because they kill the dolphins that get caught in the nets. Only albacore.
It was small, barely a scene, but Dick felt good about it. And now he had something bigger in mind. Free Willy, a movie he and Lauren were putting together. And Dick wanted Dave's help.
And he's like, you know, this movie is going to be big. He's like, it's going to be a great movie. And I'm doing this because I want to make a difference for Wales. And I want to know, are you in?
The whaling ban Dave had fought for all those years ago protected whales from commercial slaughter. But some species were still captured or killed on a smaller scale. The way Dave saw it, Dick and Lauren were offering him an opportunity to finish the job he'd started all those years ago. A chance to save the rest of the whales.
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Chapter 7: How did public perception of Keiko evolve over time?
Dave remembers telling Dick Donner essentially, thanks, but I'm not the right guy for this job. But it seems Dick wouldn't take no for an answer.
He was like, nobody else can do this. You have to do this. You've got to do this. The kids are depending on it. Everybody is depending on it. You've got to do this. Will you try?
And, you know, there was something about this that resonated. Think of it this way. If you're Dave, or an environmentalist of his generation, crazy doesn't necessarily mean impossible. Just a few years before, in 1990, an estimated 200 million people took part in Earth Day celebrations. The most ever, by far. This is the decade of the Earth Summit in Rio, the Kyoto Protocol.
Big, coordinated global actions to combat climate change and environmental damage. In 1985, scientists announced that they discovered a hole in the ozone layer. And by the 90s, an international treaty was in place to ban some of the chemicals thought to have created it. And it seemed to work. The ozone layer began to heal itself.
Even I remember, and I was just a kid, those years were my childhood, a time I remember as fundamentally optimistic. We learned about separating our trash in school, reduce, reuse, recycle, imprinted on the brain. We learned about the Amazon and the dangers of climate change, which still felt so far away. We didn't despair because we thought we could still work together to save the planet.
That if people just knew what was happening, we'd do the right thing. And that the right thing would be clear to all of us. That's the moment we're in. The moment Dave's in. And so, sure, saving Keiko sounds a bit nutty. But maybe if you've seen what he's seen, that sort of thing doesn't scare you. So Dave said, OK, I'll check it out. I'll fly down to Mexico City and meet Keiko.
He was, if not hopeful, intrigued until he got there and realized this is a terrible idea. By the time Dave visited, Keiko was a teenager and had been living in Mexico City for about eight and a half years. Dave could see right away. This captive whale was nowhere near ready to live in the ocean. A wild orca can swim over 100 miles a day.
Keiko was basically the aquatic equivalent of a couch potato.
First time I ever went to Mexico to see Keiko, I was completely freaked out. I was just, I was sitting up at the bleachers, looking down at this whale in this tiny pool in Mexico City. And he didn't look good. He swam in very small circles. And he could make it across his pool in just a matter of seconds. It was very, very poor facility swimming.
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Chapter 8: What ultimately happened to Keiko?
The bill for that alone would probably be millions of dollars. And then they'd have to spend years and millions more teaching him the most basic ocean survival skills and pray that some of those lessons took.
Keiko had lived in the care of humans and without his family since he was around two, missing out on years of life in a pod, years of company and hunting and language and what I can only think of as camaraderie, the kind of social environment that makes a killer whale a killer whale. He had millions of human fans, but not a single orca friend. There were so many things he'd never learned.
Not only did Keiko not know how to hunt for food, he didn't know how to eat live fish. Think about that. If you put a live fish in his mouth, this killer whale wouldn't eat it. And language. Keiko had stopped making most of the sounds in a wild whale's repertoire years before. Pods have different dialects, and it was unlikely Keiko even remembered the dialect he spoke before his capture.
This was crucially important to his survival. Orcas very rarely live alone in the open ocean, so if he was to make it out there, Dave knew Keiko would have to be integrated into a pod. His original pod, preferably. But if he didn't speak their language, that was going to be difficult. And then there was a small detail that no one knew for certain which pod that might be or where to find them.
Somewhere in the North Atlantic, near Iceland, presumably.
How are we going to get him back to Iceland? It's a whaling nation. Are you kidding me? What, we're going to go over to Iceland and convince them that we want to bring back this whale because the world wants to save him?
Did you do like a back of the envelope sort of like what's this going to cost thing like on the plane back? Yeah.
Yeah, exactly. While I was down there and on the way back, I was like, I lined it out. I was way over $10 million. And I was like, at that point, I pretty much just stashed it back in my pack saying, I don't know about this. It's just, I don't, you know, we're not used to things with six figures behind it. I could see about like 10 impossible steps here.
So 10 impossible steps, at least. But let's be real. For Dave, it was also one giant opportunity. Up until this point, Dave had been thinking about Keiko the way everyone in the world was thinking about Keiko, as one individual killer whale in need of saving. But what if he allowed himself to see it differently?
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