Death in the Arena

Rain had been beating down on the country around Thousand Oaks, Calif, for three days. At Louis Goebel's Wild Animal Farm it turned the grounds to hay-littered mud, dripped from red circus wagons, blew coldly through a rusty cage in which two shaggy lions paced and turned. The lions were not exercised while the rain fell--they were mean cats, and overage (4 1/2 years old) for training, and the bad weather made them sullen and difficult.

As soon as there was a break in the storm, their owner, May Kovar Schafer, sloshed out to the training cage to put them through their paces. They were still moody. But no cat, big or little, scared auburn-haired May Schafer, 42; there was only a little exaggeration in the billboards which proclaimed her "the most fearless woman alive." May, who had once performed with the Ringling Circus, needed money, and had to get her new lion act on the road as soon as possible.

Sticks & Screams. Her three children--Michael, 18, May, 14, and Sandra, 3--followed her through the yard. After she had stepped into the practice arena, with a chair in one hand and a short stick in the other, Michael climbed up the bars on the outside, unhooked the sliding door between the arena and the small lion cage.

Sultan, the meaner of the two lions, shot into the arena in one terrible, arching bound. Before May Schafer could move or cry out, his yellow teeth closed on her throat and the force of his charge carried her to the ground. Then, fired by the taste of blood, he pulled her into a corner of the cage.

Michael jumped to the ground, white-faced, yanked open the arena door and ran in. His 14-year-old sister followed him, screaming for help. They began hitting the lion with sticks. Sultan crouched over his victim, glared back at them over his hulking tan shoulder. Then he lowered his head again over May Schafer. Outside, three-year-old Sandra screamed shrilly.

Pitchfork & Pipe. The sounds carried to the nearby elephant barns. A frail, 58-year-old trainer named Rudy Muller heard them, came running to the arena with a pitchfork and an eight-foot length of iron pipe. He went inside, carefully locked the door, and advanced on Sultan. He stabbed the lion in the side with the pitchfork. The big cat winced and spun. Without a second's pause Muller smashed him between the ears with the pipe. The lion staggered, sat back on his hind legs.

Muller dropped his weapons, got his hands under May Schafer's arms and backed up slowly, dragging her body. Behind him the children inched away, too. They reached the door and opened it. Then Sultan rose and advanced. Muller stopped, and stared fixedly at the big cat. Sultan halted. Muller waited for a few more seconds. Then he coolly pulled the woman's body out of the arena, slammed the door, and locked it tight. May Schafer's neck was broken, and she was dead. Muller pillowed her head on an old shoe, and sent the hysterical children away.

Two days later a fire captain put a single bullet from a 30-30 rifle into Sultan's head. That didn't help May Schafer's family. Said Michael: "I'd like to get out of this business. But what can we do? This is all we know and we have to earn a living. I guess I'll have to carry on mother's career."

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