Joplin’s Enduring Fascination with Bears
The Early Days of Bears in Joplin
The story of Joplin’s Bears begins with the establishment of Schifferdecker Electric Park in 1909. Originally a trolley park with attractions that included alligators, Texas longhorn steers, and wolves, it soon became clear that bears would be the main draw. The park’s zoo expanded quickly, and in 1920, its most famous resident arrived—Betty the Bear. Betty entertained Joplin visitors for over three decades, becoming a beloved figure in the community. However, Betty had a knack for escaping her enclosure. On one occasion, she was found wandering near the intersection of Seventh Street and Schifferdecker Avenue, where she stopped to play with a dog before being recaptured. Another time, she managed to climb over the back fence of her enclosure, prompting the zoo to install an electric wire. Perhaps her most daring escape came during the winter when she walked across a frozen pond in the park and simply strolled out. Despite her repeated breakouts, Betty always returned to her home at the zoo, solidifying her place as a Joplin legend.
While Betty was the city’s most famous bear, another bear named Teddy gained notoriety for a completely different reason—his teeth. Teddy, a resident of Electric Park, became a spectacle when his teeth were crowned with gold in a public event before the State Dental Association. Dr. E.C. Burkholder performed the procedure, using eight pennyweights of gold to replace the enamel Teddy had worn down from eating acorns and fighting with his mate, Toby. To keep him calm, his keeper, George Thomas, got him drunk on beer sweetened with sugar, a trick that had worked on previous occasions. Spectators held Teddy’s mouth open with a broken chair leg while the procedure took place. The bear’s golden teeth became a sensation, with locals proudly declaring him one of the most remarkable bears in the country. Justice A.J. Earll, a local official, had been eager to witness the event but was unable to attend due to a jury trial. His disappointment was compounded by a personal vendetta—Teddy had stolen his lunch the previous year, making Earll one of the few Joplin residents who did not adore the bear.

Bears Beyond the Zoo: Wrestling Matches and Wild Encounters
Bears in Joplin were not just confined to zoos; some were part of traveling attractions. In the 1940s, a black bear named Ginger made headlines when she was scheduled to wrestle in a Joplin stadium. Weighing 350 pounds and standing nearly six feet tall, Ginger was trained for wrestling and even wore gloves and a muzzle for safety. She was brought to town by wrestler and animal trainer Ray Welch, adding an unusual twist to Joplin’s history of bear-related entertainment. The wrestling match was advertised as a major event, drawing in crowds eager to see a bear face off against a human opponent.
But not all bear encounters in Joplin were planned. In 1937, a mysterious “Mexican ant bear” (anteater) was spotted in a tree on Connor Avenue. Alarmed residents contacted the police, and Sergeant Clay Brown was sent to capture the unusual animal. When all attempts to take it alive failed, the creature was shot. A local taxidermist later identified it as an anteater from Mexico, likely an escapee from a traveling carnival. While not a true bear, the incident added to Joplin’s long list of strange bear-related stories.
Other bear encounters were even more intense. In the early 20th century, a bear was reported roaming near Silver Creek School, frightening travelers. While some dismissed the sightings as a case of mistaken identity—perhaps a large dog or pig—others insisted it was a real bear. A local grocery store owner, said to be an expert in bear hunting, examined tracks in the area and confirmed they belonged to a bear. This sparked a wave of hunting parties determined to track the animal, but despite the efforts of Joplin’s most enthusiastic gunmen, the bear was never caught.
Escaped Bears and Daring Rescues
Joplin’s fascination with bears wasn’t limited to the confines of its zoos—some bears found their way into the city in unexpected and often dangerous ways. One of the most dramatic bear encounters took place in 1943 when a Camp Crowder soldier foolishly decided to climb into the Schifferdecker Park bear den. The soldier, attempting to impress his friends, reached over and petted “Momma Bear.” This act of bravado did not sit well with “Papa Bear,” the large male in the enclosure. With a deep growl, the bear lunged at the soldier, who quickly scrambled up a pile of boulders to escape. However, his footing slipped, and only the quick reflexes of his fellow soldiers—who pulled him to safety—prevented a much worse outcome. Haywood Scott, a member of the park board, witnessed the event and issued a stern warning: while he appreciated the bravery of the Camp Crowder men, he urged them to save their courage for the battlefield and avoid provoking dangerous wild animals.
Not all bear encounters ended with a clean getaway. In 1926, one of the zoo’s bears managed to escape from its enclosure and led firemen, police officers, and local citizens on a frantic chase through Joplin’s fields and woodlands. The bear, described as a “trained boxing bear” from a traveling road show, had only recently arrived at the zoo. The pursuit stretched for miles, ending southeast of the Central City School. As the bear, exhausted and enraged, turned on its pursuers, firemen Clarence Patchin and Virgil Childers were forced to defend themselves. Patchin fired the first shot, hitting the bear in the stomach, but the wounded animal kept coming. It took multiple shotgun blasts to finally bring the animal down. After the chase, the firemen skinned the bear, and its hide was taken to the fire station, while the meat was stored in a cold storage facility. There was even talk of hosting a “bear feast” at the station, proving that even in tragedy, Joplin’s connection with bears remained strong.
Another famous escape occurred in the winter when a bear named Bonzo broke free from the Schifferdecker Park Zoo. Cold weather had frozen the water in the bear pit, allowing Bonzo to walk across the ice and climb over the barricade. Fire Chief Earl Fowler and his men were quickly dispatched to capture the wayward bear, but the animal proved elusive. Armed with ropes and shotguns, firemen and citizens combed the area around Schifferdecker Park, but Bonzo was nowhere to be found. As the night stretched on, officials ordered a “shoot-to-kill” directive if the bear was spotted, fearing it might pose a danger to the public. Some speculated that Bonzo had simply found a quiet place to sleep, while others joked that he might be on his way to visit Main Street.



The Closure of Joplin’s Zoo and the Legacy of Betty the Bear
Despite the city’s love for bears, Joplin’s zoo eventually faded into history. During the Great Depression and World War II, maintaining the zoo became financially unsustainable. By the 1940s, efforts to downsize the zoo had already begun. The park board sold its six monkeys to another zoo to cut costs, and many animals were relocated to other facilities. By the 1950s, only one significant zoo resident remained—Betty the Bear. Having entertained visitors for over three decades, Betty was truly the last of her kind in Joplin. In 1952, as old age and health issues caught up with her, the Joplin Humane Society recommended euthanasia, marking the end of an era. Betty was buried in Schifferdecker Park, with a small stone marking her resting place.
Today, Betty’s grave remains the only visible reminder of Joplin’s once-thriving zoo. Located at the east edge of the golf course near the Tri-State Mineral Museum, the marker reads:
“Betty Bear, 1920-1952. A long life given to entertaining visitors at Schifferdecker Park.”
Though the zoo is long gone, Joplin’s fascination with bears has never fully disappeared. Stories of gold-toothed Teddy, wrestling Ginger, escape artist Bonzo, and the fearless Betty continue to be retold, keeping the city’s unique history alive. Even today, local history buffs and park visitors can still stumble upon Betty’s grave and reflect on the time when Joplin was truly a city of bears.