Frank
G. McInnisFrank
G. McInnisFrank G. “Mac” McInnis (1902-1968) received the 1961 local level Pugsley Medal, “for outstanding achievements in the area of zoological park and exhibit design; for developing and beautifying the Detroit Zoological Park so that it has become internationally known as one of the world’s exceptional zoological parks; for accomplishments in the fields of horticulture and zoological park management; and for nationwide leadership in the field of parks.” At the time of his death, the Detroit zoo was one of the largest and best in the world attracting over 2.1 million visits annually.
McInnis was born in the tiny Macomb County, Michigan, community of Davis, where his father farmed and ran a farm implement/hardware store. His love of animals stemmed from his early years on the farm. He later reflected, “Since I was born on a farm, I knew and liked animals. But dream that one day I’d be living with all these [at the zoo]? Never. I wanted to be a landscape architect.” After his father died when McInnis was five years old, there was a lot of milking of cows, driving of horses and field work for him to do until his mother moved the family first to Washington, Michigan, and then to Royal Oak in 1916, close to where the zoo was later built. As a teenager there, McInnis played and trapped rabbits and muskrats on the swampy property where he was to spend much of his working life.
He graduated from Royal Oaks High School in 1922 and, four years later in 1926, received a degree in landscape architecture from Michigan State Agricultural College (now Michigan State University). He was a football star while in high school and seemed destined for an illustrious athletic career when he entered Michigan State. However, an injury dashed this dream, although he did play first base for the university’s baseball team.
Immediately after graduation, McInnis began working for the Detroit Department of Parks and Boulevards. In 1929, the city decided he would be the ideal landscape architect to assist a group of Germans from the Hagenbeck Zoo in Hamburg who were hired to design the new zoo’s animal exhibits and grounds. He knew the property well and eagerly tackled the assignment of creating botanical wonders that would blend beauty with the beasts. Thus, he was involved at the beginning in creating “the natural fantasyland,” which the zoo was later called, out of a 122 acre “green fields” site. The Depression years provided inexpensive and plentiful labor through the WPA crews who were responsible for the zoo’s rapid expansion. McInnis was appointed landscape superintendent and assistant director.
In 1944, he became the zoo’s director and retained that position for 24 years until his death in 1968. He took over from John Millen, the zoo’s first director who retired in 1944. His style was the antithesis of Millen’s flamboyance, irreverence, and flair for showmanship. McInnis brought to the position an intense dedication to the park, a conservative dignity, and a revitalized and realigned goal of academic and scientific validity.
One small example serves to symbolize the changes that occurred in the transfer of authority. When the Bird House was built, it followed the European design in having an apartment built into it, for use by the Curator. Although this part of the building was never put to use it was intended for, Millen had it paneled, put a desk and a few items of office furniture in it, and installed a bar. A multipurpose area, it was used as an office, a gathering place for the press, and assorted Zoo celebrations.
When McInnis assumed the position of director, he had the area converted into storage space. For the period of his term, press parties were held in the director’s office, with coffee and doughnuts dispensed from the huge wooden staff table. The only “Zoo parties” were Christmas celebrations in the administration building basement, attended by commissioners and all employees, and featuring a banquet rather than liquid refreshments.
He took over the administration at a time when the development of the zoo seemed to be headed for a stagnant period, since the war had stopped new development and momentum was lacking. With the force of his personality, organizational ability, stamina, and drive, McInnis almost single-handedly ignited and revitalized the Detroit Zoological Park, beginning a rebuilding program that continued throughout his tenure into the late 1960s.
Probably the most conspicuous evidence of McInnis’s impact on the Zoo to the average zoo-goer was the landscaping. Although the Detroit Zoo was known for many aspects of its operation, probably the best known is its aesthetic appeal. The landscaped grounds and natural settings for the animals were testimonial to McInnis’s desire to make the zoo a garden spot for Detroit residents. Indeed, many visitors were as awed by McInnis’ botanical wonders as they are by the animals. This aspect of the zoo was as satisfying to McInnis as was his skill in raising wild animals that never before had been successfully raised in captivity. He was especially proud of the zoological park’s lavish floral displays.
Although he was not academically trained as a zoologist, McInnis developed an intense interest in animals with the polar bears probably being his favorites. His consuming desire to constantly improve the collection and establish well-adjusted, contented animals resulted in the Detroit Zoo becoming world renowned for the production of polar bear cubs. He mused, “You get to know these animals almost like you do human friends, and when they get sick and die you can’t help but grieve.” He was instrumental in creating the design of barless exhibits where animals may be observed in their natural settings. He designed the exhibits so that animals were separated from observers by moats, so ingeniously set up that there seemed to be no barrier between animals and visitors. The exhibits featured artificial rocks, mountains and caves, with landscaping to reflect each group of animals’ native habitat.
McInnis’s reputation as a strong administrator, and his forceful personality, had a tendency to overshadow some of his major contributions to the Detroit Zoo and to the development of zoos nationally. One of his prime goals from the time he took office was the transformation of the zoo from primarily an entertainment facility to one that played an equally large role in education and conservation. To do this, he had to build a competent, trained technical staff in the natural science field, an organizational component that was entirely lacking when he became director. Other important endeavors were the reactivation of the Detroit Zoological Society to provide private sector support for the zoo, and establishment of an animal medical advisory council for the zoo.
It was impossible to talk with Frank McInnis without talking about the Detroit Zoological Park, and equally impossible to talk about the latter without discussing Frank McInnis. This perhaps illustrated the depth of his interest and the extent of his commitment. A colleague remarked: “The institution and the man are inseparable. His contributions to the zoo are beyond detailing; his influence indelible and undying.” Other than a continuing interest in the athletic endeavors of Michigan State University, as well as his work on the Executive Board of the Detroit Area Boy Scot Council, he had little involvement outside the park boundaries. McInnis was the Detroit Zoo for many years, and the development of both the administrator and the facility were inseparably interwoven.
He was a conservative, reserved man, who over the years built a virtually impregnable wall around himself personally. He was perceived by his employees as being intense, concerned, and the epitome of a strict father figure. He was a respected, admired and much imitated administrator. To thousands of people outside the zoo, he was “Mac”, but only a few staff members at the zoo who had known him since his early days ever called him anything except “Mr. McInnis.” His public persona was more avuncular exemplified in the press description of him as “a pleasant, cigar-smoking grandfather.” He had the knack of getting along well with people from all walks of life and possessed a deep understanding of people from senior citizens to the “small fry.” He had a tremendous interest in young people starting in the zoological and park professions and enjoyed facilitating their progress. He believed in a total subordination of the individual to the position, and applied it to himself with determination and fervor. He was in the park seven days a week, 52 weeks a year, and rarely deviated from a routine of inspections, staff meetings, and park tours. The only concession he made to his day off, Sunday, was that he toured the park in a sport shirt rather than the traditional white shirt and tie.
He possessed many physical mannerisms and speech patterns that made it easy for even the amateur mimic to successfully imitate him. As a result, more than one worker was embarrassed by being apprehended in the midst of his “McInnis imitation” by the real thing.
Although incompetence in a subordinate could drive him at times to near rage, he possessed more tolerance and understanding than many contemporaries realized. The depth and breadth of his administrative policies, his understanding of future problems and attempts to prepare for them, and his organizational skills were not completely understood until after his death.
He died suddenly and unexpectedly of a cerebral hemorrhage on April 4, 1968, shortly after one of his daily tours. His interest in both zoos and parks was reflected in the positions he held because he was elected president of both the American Association of Zoological Parks and Aquariums (1952-53) and the American Institute of Park Executives (AIPE) (1958-59). He was one of those rare people who received accolades from professionals in both the zoological and park areas, and was the first director of a zoological park to be elected president of AIPE. When the National Recreation and Park Association was formed in 1966, he was elected chair of its executive committee. Frank Vaydik (Pugsley Medal 1965 and 1981) wrote, “Men of the stature of Frank McInnis are not easy to come by.” In 1964 a 100 bell carillon was presented to the zoo and dedicated to McInnis “in recognition of his many years of devoted service”, and in 1969 the Frank G. McInnis Memorial Fountain was dedicated at the Detroit Zoo.