The Museum debuted its inaugural whale model in 1908, measuring an impressive 76 feet in length. Initially displayed in the Hall of the Biology of Mammals, the model was relocated following the opening of the Hall of Ocean Life, leading to the former's closure. Constructed from plaster, the model could not be preserved. Image courtesy of the American Museum of Natural History.
“A Canadian colleague recently contacted me, mentioning his museum’s plan to construct a whale and asking for advice. My sole recommendation? Resign immediately and secure a comfortable university position.” - Richard Van Gelder
As the American Museum of Natural History approached its centennial in 1959, it resolved to revitalize its Hall of Ocean Life, which had remained neglected and inactive for years, described by staff as a 'sleeping giant.'
A key addition to the hall was a new blue whale model, intended to replace the outdated wooden and papier-mâché version from 1908. The project faced a decade of debates over design, technical challenges, and delays. Richard Van Gelder, the Department of Mammalogy chairman and lead designer, resigned twice from the Ocean Life Committee, once from the Museum, and narrowly avoided dismissal three times—including the day before the whale’s official unveiling. Despite these obstacles, the project was ultimately completed.
Plus-Size Model
The challenge began in 1959 when the museum initiated plans for the model, as very few individuals had ever seen a live blue whale or even a complete photograph of one. Most images captured only fragments—a back, tail, or fin emerging from the ocean. Full-body underwater photographs wouldn’t exist until the 1970s. Even some of the designers had never seen a blue whale. In his memoir, Whale on my Back, Van Gelder admitted, 'As far as accuracy goes, I couldn’t find much wrong with [the old model], primarily because I had never seen a blue whale.'
At the start of the century, both the AMNH and the Smithsonian Institution encountered the same issue and dispatched teams to observe whales firsthand. They traveled to whaling stations in Newfoundland, Canada, enduring long waits until a whale was caught. Van Gelder’s predecessor relied solely on measurements for his model, while the Smithsonian team spent weeks creating plaster molds of a massive, decomposing whale, removing flesh, and disassembling the skeleton. Their efforts yielded over 26,000 pounds of bones and plaster casts, which were shipped to Washington for assembly.
For the new project, casting was considered too costly and impractical for the AMNH, making a replica the more feasible option. Instead of sending a team to Canada for new measurements, Van Gelder and his team used the British Museum’s whale as a reference. This model, constructed in 1938 from wood, was based on measurements taken from 'whale #112,' a specimen captured by whalers and observed by a museum expedition in Antarctica.
Over the following years, Van Gelder and his team frequently consulted both the British Museum’s whale and the Smithsonian’s version, which was also modeled after the British specimen, to ensure precision and gather ideas. Using the British model as a blueprint, they finalized a design and decided to suspend the new model from the hall’s ceiling, positioning it as if it were mid-dive.
Don’t Leave Me Hanging
Issues resurfaced shortly after.
A senior museum official informed Van Gelder, 'Absolutely nothing should be suspended from the ceiling. I dislike objects dangling on strings.'
Van Gelder attempted to clarify that the whale would be supported by wires, not strings, but his explanation fell on deaf ears. Suspending the whale in any manner was strictly prohibited.
Returning to his office, Van Gelder pondered alternative methods for showcasing the whale. He later wrote, 'I considered crafting it from rubber and filling it with helium, but dismissed the idea as too reminiscent of the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. Additionally, we’d likely need strings to anchor it, and I wasn’t sure how extensive the ban on strings was.'
Another senior museum official proposed a solution that avoided strings altogether. The idea involved constructing a central pedestal in the hall, featuring a 'shiny chromium rod' extending upward, with the whale mounted on top. Van Gelder dismissed this as the 'lollipop concept,' and other museum leaders shared his lack of enthusiasm.
The Smithsonian had affixed their whale directly to a wall, but Van Gelder criticized this method as a 'professional disgrace.' His opinion was further solidified when the Smithsonian staff discovered one morning that the whale’s head had detached overnight and fallen to the floor.
Van Gelder reflected on how whales are typically observed: 'Usually, it’s just a glimpse of a fin, a spout of water, or a tail fluke.' Complete sightings of whales are rare, and when they do occur, the whales are often deceased. To emphasize the limited display options and the impracticality of the string ban, Van Gelder sarcastically suggested presenting the whale as if it were stranded on a beach.
He wrote, 'I was astonished to find that the beached whale concept was not only accepted but met with great enthusiasm.'
Van Gelder had unintentionally proposed a low-cost solution, which the museum eagerly embraced. This left him in the awkward position of having to develop and defend the idea against the mockery of his colleagues.
Van Gelder couldn’t bring himself to execute the plan but was unsure how to abandon it. When a colleague proposed adding models and audio of birds that would scavenge a real whale carcass, inspiration struck, and Van Gelder realized how to dismantle the beached whale concept.
Shortly after, Van Gelder was tasked with hosting a group of museum donors. During lunch, he described to the Women’s Committee how the beached whale exhibit would appear, sound, and even smell.
He explained, 'We’re planning something unprecedented. A soft breeze will carry the scent of the ocean to visitors, engaging all senses. We’re even attempting to replicate the odor of a decomposing whale, ensuring a fully immersive experience.'
When word of this reached the higher-ups, the beached whale idea was scrapped, and Van Gelder was back to the drawing board. The head of the Exhibition Department eventually proposed a solution that had been overlooked. Van Gelder admitted he was 'so fixated on avoiding hanging displays' that he would 'never have conceived' the new idea. If strings couldn’t be used to suspend the whale from the ceiling, the exhibitor suggested attaching the whale directly to the ceiling instead.
And that’s exactly what they did.
Stay tuned for Part II, where we delve into the construction of the whale and the mysterious absence of its anus.
