Asiatic Expedition were bailing out at every turn, leaving only Lawrence Griswold's handsome and wild-hearted cousin LeGrand “Sonny” Griswold and Bill to carry on. Or attempt to carry on. They could go nowhere without permits, and the documents weren't materializing. Through charm and bribery, Bill Harkness had nimbly secured visas, permissions, and transportation in many countries. Here in China the bureaucracy wouldn't yield. His advancement was opposed by the all-powerful science bureau, Academia Sinica, and also by both national and provincial agencies concerned by the movement of Communist troops.
Nonetheless,
The China Journal,
a well-respected magazine with a scientific bent, reported that given Bill's experience and the time he had allowed himself for the hunt, his chances for success were good.
Early on, Bill met up with an interesting character, nearly a generationolder than himself, named Floyd Tangier Smith. Bill had money and no expedition, and Smith had expedition camps established in panda country and experience with Chinese officials, but no money. A partnership of mutual need was suggested. Ignoring his doctor's orders for three months of complete rest followed by a year of reduced activity, Smith signed on. Each man thought the other just might get him on track; neither had any idea of the deep and long-lasting consequences of their association.
The commencement of the new affiliation with Smith didn't seem to budge the permit process one bit, which led a frustrated Bill Harkness to begin a strange series of disappearing acts. The Shanghai papers just then were filled with stories of kidnappers and ransom schemes. Bearing a draft for five thousand dollars at the time of his first escapade, Bill seemed a likely target.
On March 18, United Press carried a dispatch about him headlined
SCIENTIST VANISHES FROM TRAIN IN CHINA: POLICE DOUBT THAT W.H. HARK-NESS HAS BEEN KIDNAPED. The story said the “seeker of wild animals” was reported missing “under mysterious circumstances,” having somehow evaporated on the train between Nanking and Shanghai four days earlier. The next day, UP announced that the “famed American naturalist” was just fine at the Palace Hotel, but that he was not forthcoming about what had happened.
Weeks later Bill went missing again. WILLIAM HARKNESS HUNTED IN CHINA: SHANGHAI POLICE SEEKING NEW YORK CLUBMAN ran the headline over an Associated Press report. It seemed that Bill was back on the lam, falling out of touch with his Western friends. His one original remaining expedition member, Sonny Griswold, confided it was clear that Bill had not been taken by bandits as had been reported. This time, Bill was found holed up in a hotel under the name Hansen.
When the frustrated explorer was dragged before the district attorney, he explained that he was trying to “forget” his great disappointment over failing to secure a permit for his expedition.
Worse, that same month, Bill slid further behind in the panda-hunting roster. The fourth panda to fall to a westerner was claimed by CaptainH. Courtney Brocklehurst, a Brit who had been a game warden in the Sudan. Yet, the tally of giant pandas taken by westerners was still, according to historians, remarkably low.
More than ever, big museums in America were in a froth to get their own specimens. “As a result,” historians have noted, “these hunting parties began to overlap with increasing frequency.”
It was an exciting time to be in the field. But that was the problem. Bill wasn't in the field, he was stuck in Shanghai. And there was a further humiliation in store, as the authorities decided to monitor him. He was ordered to report personally to the district attorney's office every three days to ensure that a U.S. marshal wouldn't have to go looking again. A dejected Bill Harkness declared he would leave soon for home.
FOR NEARLY TWO YEARS , Ruth Harkness's only glimpse of the Far East had come through her husband's