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EXPLORERS HOUSE
National Geographic and the World it Made
by Robert M. Poole
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
ISBN: 0143035932
Copyright (c) 2004 Robert M. Poole
FROM THE BOOK JACKET:
For more than one hundred years, "National Geographic" has brought
"the world and all that's in it" to millions of people worldwide.
Through its unparalleled research, exploration, publications, and
photography, the organization and its magazine have, in many ways,
defined how we see the world. Now Robert Poole's "Explorers House"
offers a vibrant, behind-the-scenes look at "National Geographic,"
from its start in 1888 under the leadership of Alexander Graham Bell
and the Grosvenor family, to its evolution into one of the most
esteemed and iconic American institutions. With unprecedented
access to family papers and official archives, "Explorers House"
presents "National Geographic" from the inside out, from its
remarkable family to the very ends of the earth it investigates.
PROLOGUE
Jacques-Yves Cousteau charmed his way through the crowd of VIPs in
the Maryland Room, past Sir Edmund Hillary and Jane Goodall, past
John Glenn and Richard Leakey, past white-gloved waiters navigating
a packed ocean of black ties and sequined gowns. Down the hall of
the Sheraton Washington Hotel, 1,400 more guests trickled through
Secret Service checkpoints, fidgeting in line before metal
detectors. Just beyond them, through doors opening onto a softly lit
ballroom, the Marine Corps Band, resplendent in a show of red wool
and gleaming brass, made its final checks for the performance ahead.
A sense of expectancy charged the air.
It was November 17, 1988, and the crowds were gathering in the
nation's capital to celebrate the National Geographic Society's
centennial. The organization, in turn, was honoring fifteen noted
explorers and researchers to whom it had given grants or recognition
at the start of their careers. This centennial dinner was the last
in a year full of parties, and it would be the most lavish, with a
salon orchestra, awards ceremonies, and a toast from the president-
elect, George H. W. Bush.
From its origins as an obscure learned organization in 1888, the
National Geographic Society had evolved into the world's
largest
nonprofit educational and scientific institution. Its official
journal, "National Geographic" magazine, was read by more than forty
million people, and its Emmy award-winning documentaries had become
a popular fixture on public television. The organization's broad
reach and ecumenical appeal took in movie stars, inmates, farmers,
fishermen, and more than a few world leaders. Emperor Akihito of
Japan read the magazine, as did Danny Glover, Martha Stewart, the
Mir of Hunza, and Oliver Sacks. The late Walt Disney and Rudolf Hess
had both subscribed. Many admired the pictures, some the maps, and a
few the text, but the writer Flannery O'Connor particularly liked
the magazine's smell, which she found "a distinct unforgettable
transcendent apotheotic...and very grave odor. Like no other mere
magazine. If 'Time' smelled like the 'Nat'l. Geo.' there would be
some excuse for its being printed."
Cousteau made his way from the VIP reception to the ballroom,
tossing his head to laugh at some private joke with Luis Marden, a
dapper man whose gravelly voice rumbled with echoes of his native
Boston. They were old friends, dating from 1955, when "National
Geographic" magazine sent Marden, then a young staff writer and
photographer, to cover the "Calypso" voyage that launched Cousteau's
fame. Marden was something of a legend around the office, the
quintessential "National Geographic" contributor. He lived in a
house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, spoke five languages, flew
airplanes, and had his safari shirts tailored in Hong Kong. He
recorded his spending in an official buff-colored booklet, which
included a line for "Gifts to Natives." He had twice crossed the
Atlantic in his own ketch, and posited a controversial new landing
site for Christopher Columbus. He had unearthed the remains of the
HMS "Bounty" off Pitcairn Island. He had discovered a species of
sand flea ("Dolobrotus mardeni") and a new orchid ("Epistephium
mardeni"), both named for him.
Marden was one golden child in an extended family of men and women
who roamed the world, climbing mountains, photographing obscure
tribes, visiting shamans, collecting beetles, and interviewing
dictators for the National Geographic Society and its members. Other
contributors included generals and admirals, a convicted felon, a
former Baptist missionary, a submarine captain, several Supreme
Court justices, two astronauts, several presidents, and a number of
social misfits. One of the latter, a botanist who packed a Colt .45,
wept when he talked about certain plants.
This eccentric--and often maddening--parade of characters might have
marched off into oblivion if not for the influence of one family--
the staid and steady Grosvenors--who set high standards, recruited
new talent, paid the bills, and kept things moving forward. A proud
and private New England clan, the Grosvenor family (pronounced
"Grov-uh-nor") was in its fifth generation of guiding the National
Geographic Society at the time of the centennial. Although
Grosvenors had been at the top of "National Geographic" magazine's
masthead since William McKinley was president, they had been content
to bask in the glow of the heroes and heroines they created. Unlike
other prominent media dynasties--say the Sulzbergers, Luces, or
Binghams--the Grosvenors thrived under protective coloration like
the moths or leafhoppers celebrated in their television shows and
magazine layouts.
At the head table, Sir Edmund Hillary, looking ruddy and sturdy,
chatted with Barry Bishop, a barrel-shaped man with a swooping
handlebar mustache and a slight limp he earned in 1963, when the
first Americans topped Everest, following Hillary by a decade. Then
a young photographer for "National Geographic" magazine, Bishop was
now vice chairman of the National Geographic Society's prestigious
Research and Exploration Committee, which handed out grants for
people like Jane Goodall, who sat just down the table from Hillary.
Goodall, whose research on chimps changed ideas about animal
behavior and conservation, was placed at a discreet distance from
Mary Leakey, the matriarch of the remarkable family of Kenyan
paleontologists. Mrs. Leakey had strong feelings about the women her
late husband, Louis, recruited. Two generations of Leakeys had been
sponsored by the National Geographic Society, which brought their
discoveries to the world's attention. Near the center of the head
table, Senator John Glenn crinkled his freckled face into the
familiar A-OK grin, acknowledging a well-wisher in the audience
below; he had carried a National Geographic flag on his historic
space flight. Bob Ballard, the reserve navy commander who had
discovered the "Titanic," was there, too, giving credit to Cousteau
for his own interest in ocean exploration. With the help of National
Geographic grants, Ballard had extended what Cousteau began, taking
remote diving vessels to depths that unprotected humans could never
endure.
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