Reptile Garden

The curiosity in Father Hennepin Bluff Park, across the Stone Arch Bridge from downtown Minneapolis, is a gravesite. A shrine to a fallen friend. Tucked into the gutted remains of a stump, not far from a con-temporary bandshell, there is a flat headstone in the shape of a Superman crest. Thick, black magic-marker in an ornate hand declares, “Here lies my friend Harley, a 3 ft 6 in iguana from San Porterico.” The epitaph is a mystery in itself. There is no San Porterico. Perhaps the writer refers to San Juan, Puerto Rico. That place is lousy with iguanas. The critters scurry about like squirrels, eating tossed scraps, and amusing tourists. Along the Mississippi River bluffs of Minneapolis, however, iguana sightings are rare. While he was alive, Harley must have piqued the interest of passers-by. Indeed, according to the grave marker, “He made many friends in this park.”

Many have paid their respects. Harley’s memorial is decorated with an array of offerings and tchotchkes. There are colorful planted flowers, seashells, stones adorned with foil confetti, and a ceramic candleholder with an accretion of melted wax. Some of these gifts undoubtedly have come from people who knew Harley only through his owner’s affectionate tribute. It’s difficult to find someone who remembers the lizard alive.

“I would have liked to have seen it,” said King Dearing, who is often in the park between daytime classes and his shift at the nearby Metal-Matic steel tubing plant. Greg Blake, another frequent park visitor, never met Harley either. His first encounter with the legend came while using a nearby garbage can. “I was walking over to throw some trash away,” he said. “That’s when I noticed the memorial. It seems like every time I come down here, someone is adding something new to it.”

One day in early August, a particularly prominent addition appeared. A framed print of The Rescue Party, an oil painting by artist Arthur Elsley, was suddenly propped up inside the stump. Thanks to this two-foot wide backdrop — a Victorian-era painting of happy children playing with a Saint Bernard — almost no one can approach the site without at least a passing glance. Jackie Wallin recently paused with a coworker to discuss the alteration. She often checks out the memorial during lunch-hour walks. “I look to see if anyone’s added anything,” she said. “I think it’s nice that no one is destroying it.”

Credit city staff for that. Minneapolis Park Police officer Ron Giving described Harley’s owner—identified only as “Jerry” on the gravestone—as a “quasi-, semi-homeless” man. Early on, the memorial was “pretty elaborate,” Giving said. “It was starting to become a real showpiece.” Jerry and others added greenery, pictures, and other baubles on a regular basis. A park maintenance worker known to colleagues as “Mugs” helped rein in the effort. She convinced Jerry to remove some items, including jewelry and two hanging plants she recognized from a nearby Main Street restaurant. “I saw them there earlier in the morning,” Mugs recalled. “By lunch-time, they were on Harley’s shrine.”

Jerry used to hang around the park often, Mugs said. He was overtly friendly, and would readily leap onto the Cushman motorized cart of a maintenance worker he’d never met. He was devoted to keeping the grounds clean, sometimes hiding items in trees and crevices just to see if he could catch crews shirking their duties. Mugs heard about Harley the iguana’s death directly from Jerry, who liked to carry his pet on his shoulder as he rode his bicycle. One day near the park, Harley fell off and was run over by a car.

Yes, burying a pet in a Minneapolis park is illegal, and officer Giving doesn’t want Harley’s memorial to spur a rash of dog, cat, or horse graves on public property. But for the time being, “We’re not going to get bent out of shape,” he said.

The story doesn’t end with Harley’s death, however. More recently, on June 6, Jerry (actually Gerald J. Michnowski) got into a fight in the park. He took a blow to the abdomen from a baseball bat. The 47 year old bled internally and died at the scene. The man who fought with Michnowski was arrested but not charged with a crime. According to the “underground story from the homeless” that Mugs has heard, the altercation erupted during a session of drinking, after someone teased Jerry about Harley’s shrine.

If you doubt that the loss of a green, scaly creature could elicit such intense emotion, ask the folks over at Twin Cities Reptiles in St. Paul, where customers can buy lizard leashes, mango-scented calcium spray, and additives to make dry food smell like a live rodent. The store also sells several species of iguana. Employee Jeff Arndt is more inclined to steer people toward leopard geckos and bearded dragons, which don’t grow so large and are less liable to cause problems. But co-worker Jenna Szabo notes that iguanas can be appealing.“If you hold them a lot and give them a lot of attention, they can make really good pets,” Szabo said. “If you ignore them, they can turn out to be mean.”


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