covered in canvas. Where the rivers were navigable, each one could carry a ton of cargo and three to four men. Even better, they weighed only 160 pounds each, so four men—two if necessary—could pick them up and easily haul them for miles if the rivers became impassable.
Frank Harper, Roosevelt’s British-born private secretary, concerned about Roosevelt’s safety but otherwise lacking a clear professional basis for his opinion, favored instead a variety of stamped-steel boats manufactured by the W. H. Mullins Company of Salem, Ohio. FatherZahm, meanwhile, had sent a check to the Rift Climbing Boat Company in Athens, Pennsylvania, in payment for a matching pair of eight-hundred-pound steel-hulled motorboats. Characteristically, Zahm also managed to prevail upon the company to make some improvements to the boats at the company’s own expense, for the “glory” of it. He also ordered two custom pennants to announce the expedition with appropriate pomp and ceremony: one with an “R” for Roosevelt and the other with a “Z”—for Zahm.
While the chaos and costs surrounding the expedition’s boats grew, Fiala set about providing for the rest of their needs, procuring the food and provisions the men would require, as he understood them. The quantity and variety were impressive, but the question of what items to include was something else entirely. Nearly as much thought seemed to have been put into the purchase of luxuries and incidentals as necessities. Fiala ordered pancake flour, sliced bacon, boned chicken, dehydrated potatoes, safety matches, and soap, but he also stocked up on smoking pipes (three dozen), two kinds of tobacco, malted milk, and twenty-four rolls of Challenge toilet paper. One heavy zinc-lined case included nothing but spices and gourmet condiments: tins of ground mustard, celery salt, poultry seasoning, paprika, cinnamon, nutmeg, chutney, orange and grapefruit marmalade, Tabasco sauce, and olive zest. Ever mindful that the expedition would be led by a former president, Fiala even sent Roosevelt a variety of teas so that he could select his favorite kind. “I am sending you five samples of tea,” he wrote in early September, “and would appreciate it very much if you would test these and let me know which variety you prefer for your jungle trip.”
* * *
B ACK AT the American Museum of Natural History, Frank Chapman was looking for someone to accompany Roosevelt into the Amazon who actually had firsthand experience in that part of the world. Chapman and the museum’s president, Henry Fairfield Osborn, were concerned about Roosevelt’s safety, not only because he was an oldfriend but because they had the interests of their institution to consider. A former president of the United States was about to travel through the Amazon under the museum’s auspices. If the expedition did not go well, or if Roosevelt was injured or became ill—or if the unthinkable happened and he was killed—the museum’s reputation could be damaged beyond repair.
Roosevelt expected the journey to be safe and uneventful, but he was not deterred by the possibility that he could be wrong. Osborn could not have been happy to hear Roosevelt say, as he often did, that he did not mind risking his life on this expedition. After being told that he might encounter hostile Indians, white-water rapids, and deadly, disease-carrying insects, Roosevelt had said, “I’ll reply to you as I did to the doctors who said they would not be responsible for the consequences if I delivered my address after being shot and wounded in Milwaukee: ‘I’m ahead of the game and can afford to take the chances.’”
The museum, however, could not afford to take chances, so Chapman was determined to find a naturalist who not only was talented and experienced but could be counted on to ensure that Roosevelt returned from the Amazon—alive. In making his choice, Chapman knew that he could have his pick of the finest scientists and