THEY said it couldn't be done. They said that no matter how smart a chimpanzee might be, he couldn't be taught to speak. They said...
"Oh, come off it, you're waking up the neighbors," said Kokomo Jr. testily. He was in his dressing gown, smoking a cigaret in an ebony holder as befits a chimp of letters. A well-thumbed volume of New studies in the Philosophy of Descartes was at his elbow.
The last time we saw you, Kokomo, you were painting...
"Just one of my hobbies," he said, languidly blowing a smoke ring toward the ceiling of his study. "Churchill, Eisenhower -- hundreds of other celebrities -- paint. As for me, I've put aside my daubs while I develop this new talent."
He'll Take a Crack At TV Commercials
Kokomo's new talent is the ability to actually speak in English. He's the first chimp to be trained to say, "Mama."
Nick Corrado, [sic] his owner and trainer, said, "It was one of the hardest things I ever did. I had to teach him to say 'ah' and then -- by holding his lower lip over his upper one -- finally got him to say 'Mama.' Now he does it on cue."
KOKOMO listened quietly and then turned to us and said in his native French Equatorial Africa chimpanzee tongue, "Don't tell Nick, but I could say anything I wanted to."
Then why don't you, Kokomo?
"I will in due time," he replied, buffing his fingernails on the lapels on his brocaded gown, "but I'm not going to make the mistake of going into this thing half-cocked. First, I'm going to improve my mind. Meanwhile, even though I don't like the idea, I'm going to try TV commercials."
Like what, Kokomo?
"Well," he said thoughtfully, "I'm thinking of having an anchor tattooed on the back of my hand so I can do cigaret commercials. Those doctor bits I can handle easily. Beer commercials appeal to me, too. And I'd like to run into some of those pretty models in the soap ads. I'll show you."
Maybe He'll Be Ready To Move Up in 1960
He hummed a snatch from a singing commercial and
then said, with a sigh, "It's a pity we cannot pursue our real inclinations
-- that we're tied down by the necessity of making a living. I'm
looking far beyond TV work."
Perhaps the theatre or the movies...?
"Well, maybe," he said. "I think my real milieu may be readings. Charles Laughton and others have done well at that. Perhaps I'll go into politics -- that should be easy. I'm reading up on the Lincoln-Douglas debates and last week I re-read Plato's Dialogues."
THE telephone rang and he picked up the receiver. "Mama," he said and hung up.
He avoided looking at us for the next few moments. Then he recovered his aplomb. "I'm happy to be able to talk to you about this," he said, "because we can converse on the same level. Even Nick doesn't know that I'm reading Kant and Plato, Shakespeare and Milton and the rest. He thinks I want the books so that I'll look taller when I'm seated at the breakfast table."
Perhaps, Kokomo, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take diction lessons and maybe retain a dramatics coach...
Doesn't Need Anyone Crowding Into the Act
"Not so," he said with a trace of condescension. "I'm afraid that sort of schooling would be superfluous." He waved his hand in the direction of the bookshelves. "I have everything I need right here," he said, "the works of the masters, albums containing the world's great music, the combined works of John Chapman and Bob Sylvester..."
The doorbell rang and Kokomo got irritably to his feet and excused himself. He opened the door and listened for a moment as a salesman gave him a pitch. "Mama," he said, and slammed the door.
He left the room to get us a drink and Nick seized the opportunity to tell us that he's trying to get Kokomo Jr. to say such words as "papa" and "no" and "hello" and "good-by."
KOKOMO returned and in his native tongue interrupted. "Let's take Daniel Webster," he said. He started the same way I did. The first word out of his mouth was 'Mama.' Quod erat demonstrandum."
He began mumbling to himself, "Why not -- why not? I could go on a speaking tour. They could bill me as the 'Golden Orator.' I could make around-the-world trips -- perhaps bring peace to the world through my persuasiveness in conferences with Khrushchev and Mao Tze-Tung. I could..."
He was still rambling as we edged toward the door.
"Say good-by, Kokomo," commanded his trainer.
Kokomo came out of his reverie with a start. Then he closed his right eye in a broad wink.
"Mama," he said.
photo captions, left-right, top-bottom:
How're ya fixed for blades...?
Hey, getcha cold be-ah...
What do doctors do...?
Look Ma, no cavities...
Slap leather, Mac...
The thinking man...