History is merely a repeat of itself, some say. Recent events seem to indicate this, sort of.

In Seattle last week, protesters stormed the Woodland Park Zoo after the zoo announced they were shutting down their elephant exhibit over concerns about the condition of the pachyderms. Nearly a century ago, the same zoo was accused of causing the death of one of the largest elephants ever in North America by its Kirkland owner.

Chances are, you have never heard of Tusko the Magnificent. I hadn’t until my cousin told me about him. During the Roaring ‘20s, however, he was well known as one of the largest elephants ever to set foot in North America, at 10-feet, 2-inches tall and a full ton heavier than Jumbo, the largest elephant ever in North America.

Don’t let Tusko’s epithet fool you, though. Whether he was magnificent depends on your definition of the word. Yet his unruly personality and violent temper, often preceded by imbibing ridiculous amounts of alcohol, are well documented. Before he came to Washington, he had already killed six full-grown bulls in a Mexican arena on a $2,500 bet, two of which were thrown into the crowd.

Trust me, what you’re about to read, you can’t make up.

As part of the then-famous Al G. Barnes Circus, “The Mighty Monarch of the Jungle” – as he was referred to in advertising posters – was brought to Washington in 1922. In May, the circus came to Sedro-Woolley, which at the time was a small logging community of 2,000 people. The pavilions went up, the crowds gathered, and all was set for a night of thrill and excitement.

That’s when all hell broke loose, as recounted by J. Kingston Pierce’s article for historylink.org, “Tusko the elephant rampages through Sedro-Woolley on May 15, 1922.”

Tusko burst forth from his tent after tossing his trainer, stomping through pavilions as he began a path of destruction that would continue on into the morning.

While in the Disney film Dumbo, the titular character’s mother goes berserk simply to protect her son, Tusko’s motives were far less noble. His belligerence is attributed to the overconsumption of fermented moonshiner’s mash, which Tusko apparently took upon himself to raid while his chains were removed.

The rest of it reads like a rip-off of King Kong. After stomping through the circus grounds, the elephant marched into the town of Sedro-Woolley, tearing out telephone poles, tossing whole cars in the air, and even intruding himself into chicken coops. On Township Street, the elephant even poked his head into the living-room window of a family’s home, scaring them half to death.

So how did the gentle folk of Sedro-Woolley respond to the sight of a massive beast raising Cain through their streets?

According to one account, they joined Tusko in his inebriated state by tipping back home-made moonshine as they chased after him. Try to envision a pack of drunken loggers, and boys, tipsy as they chase after an elephant five times their size. Then imagine a circus representative following in the elephant’s path of destruction to pay off the town’s people with $20,000 in cold-hard cash he had in a satchel.

As I said, you can’t make this stuff up.

Their pursuit of Tusko did little good. He went on for 30 miles before anyone, or anything, caught up with him. Finally, a group of drunken men managed to get him back into town and trap him between boxcars in an area known as the Garden of Eden.

Ostensibly Adam and Eve were unavailable for comment.

Thus ended Tusko’s notorious rampage through Sedro-Woolley, amazingly, without a single injury or death.

After a series of new owners, bigger chains and plenty of barrels of whiskey, Tusko had acquired a new epithet, “The Great Unwanted.” He was eventually purchased by Kirkland resident H.C. Barber, who attempted to display him in Seattle, according to the now-defunct newspaper, the Eastside Journal. The plan backfired when Seattle Mayor John Francis Dore, horrified at the alleged poor condition of Tusko, ordered him placed in the Woodland Park Zoo on Oct. 8, 1922. G.W. “Slim” Lewis was hired as special keeper for Tusko, while children collected money to accommodate his gargantuan size within the Wide Awake’s Elephant House. There was even a Tusko Fund set up to pay for his care.

Yet, Barber wasn’t done showing off his prized elephant. In 1933, he tried to convince Kirkland businesses to bring Tusko there to help advertise the town of 1,700 people. During the winter, when he wasn’t being used for advertisements, Tusko would be kept in the old Todd Feed Building at 120 Commercial, which according to Loita Hawkinson, president Kirkland Heritage Society, is now 120 Park Lane.

The plan never bore fruit, as Tusko died of a blood clot on June 10, 1933. Barber had him skinned by another Kirkland man, Jacob Kaper, a job Kaper described as the biggest of his life, requiring ten hours for him to skin the gargantuan beast. The hide alone weighed 2,200 pounds, according to the Eastside Journal.

Tusko was then stuffed in preparation for the 1933-1934 Chicago Century of Progress exposition, while his bones were put on a roadside show before finally being donated to the University of Oregon Museum of Natural History.

Of course, no story seems complete without the requisite lawsuit. Barber ended up suing the city of Seattle for $25,000, claiming they had killed his beloved elephant and cost him money he would have got in Kirkland and Chicago. Dore, a lawyer himself, retorted that the owner was mistreating Tusko and he had no legal case.

Meanwhile, the rendering company and another man filed a chattel lien on the bones and hide to try to recover its unpaid bill from Barber.

“Beyond that, the papers are silent,” writes Alan J Stein in a short article titled “Tusko the Magnificent’s Adventures in Kirkland. “No mention is made of the final resting place of Tusko’s remains, nor the results of the claims and liens surrounding this hapless elephant.”

This year, the Post Office released Limited-Edition Vintage Circus Posters Forever Stamps, one of which includes an old Al B Barnes Circus poster believed to be of Tusko.

Whether or not history repeats itself, this only goes to show that it is often full of quirky, fascinating and hilarious tales.

So in tribute, let’s raise a tipple to Tusko, the Mighty Monarch of the Jungle.