Snakemaster

by Austin Stevens

  There are many factors to be considered in the event of snake-bite, and no two cases will be the same, whether or not the species of reptile involved is the same. While the use of a tourniquet has proved to be of value for delaying systemic envenomation with elapids (fixed front-fanged, neurotoxic species, e.g., cobras), it is not generally recommended for viper bites. Experimental evidence has shown that the systemic spread of venom is via the lymphatics, thus the application of a crepe—or stretch bandage—covering the bite and entire effected limb is promoted today as the most helpful first-aid measure to be applied to any snake-bite. With this procedure, as opposed to a regular tourniquet, neither venous nor arterial flow is affected, thus reducing the chance of later gangrenous effects. Though the treatment of snake-bite cases will vary around the world according to the species involved, there are a few basic first-aid rules:

  Keep the victim calm.

  Immobilize the victim, or at least the bitten limb.

  Transport the victim as quickly as possible to a hospital where antivenom is available.

  For those who venture into the wilds (safari, rock climbing, caving, etc.), it is essential to study the subject of snakebite further, as hospitalization and treatment may be days away. An antivenom kit should always be included in any field trip that which ventures far from civilization and, more importantly, each person should be familiar with its contents and application. Snake venom poisoning is a serious matter and one would be wise to consider prevention, rather than having to cure.

  CHAPTER 16

  DCI PROMOTIONS

  Outside of the actual physical process of making a television series, there is also the promotional side to be considered, something I knew little or nothing about. All that was about to change, however, when one evening I was contacted by Animal Planet USA, informing me that I was expected to attend and perform at the annual Discovery Channel International Up-Front Promotional Tour. The tour would take place over a period of two weeks, including live performances, promotional photo shoots, and television interviews with the likes of Regis and Kelly, Tony Danza, and David Letterman, amongst others. These would take place in New York, Chicago, Detroit, and across the USA to Los Angeles. This was the big promotional tour to which all potential buyers of advertising time and space were invited from around the globe to view the next year’s program line-ups. My series, having now proved itself through its ratings, was considered the wildlife adventure program to watch; thus, as action presenter of the series, I was expected to attend, perform, and promote.

  And so it came to pass that my appointed publicist, Amelia Naido, was waiting for me when I arrived at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in New York. She was a young American woman of Asian-Indian ancestry, dressed in a red business suite with a white blouse and high-heeled shoes. She brandished an air of overconfidence that immediately suggested someone accustomed to doing things her way, and unaccustomed to criticism. I took an instant dislike to her.

  Entering my suite in the Ritz-Carlton on that first day, I was not prepared for what awaited me. The rooms were huge, with a separate bedroom, lounge, and study areas, tastefully decorated and fitted out with heavy, polished, oak-wood furniture. The bathroom was even more stunning in pale marble with black and gold trim, an enormous spar bath, a double wash-basin fitted onto oak cabinets, and a marble-and-tile enclosed shower cubicle the size of a small room, bathed in subdued lighting filtering through numerous frosted glass shades. Decorated and engraved floor-to-ceiling mirrors added to the luxurious effect of size and grandeur. Soaps, conditioners, perfumes, baskets of fruits, sweets, and reading materials were strategically placed, with a ‘bath menu’ that offered any imaginable delight of your choosing. The liquor cabinet was the size of a wardrobe, and pamphlets brought to my attention that I had free access to the gymnasium on the fourth floor, including free massage anytime I felt the need. I could get used to this!

  On the huge double bed I found a wrapped and decorated box addressed to me, a welcoming present from Discovery. This turned out to be a very expensive B&O sound-dampening headset, something I had always wanted. Next to the bed, at the window overlooking Central Park, stood a huge chocolate cake, at least a meter tall, designed in the shape of a snake entwined around a branch. The card read, The Ritz-Carlton Hotel Welcomes the Snakemaster.

  I was stunned! All this for me? I was being treated like a movie star, whereas in fact I was little more than a herpetologist turned wildlife filmmaker with little more to offer than my knowledge and experience in the field.

  The days and nights that followed merged from one activity into the next, starting with Amelia’s insisting we go shopping for new clothes suitable for me to wear on the upcoming TV shows. I am particular about what I wear, and it was inevitable that Amelia and I would clash (especially on this). Not accustomed to being challenged, she stood her ground. “This is the latest fashion,” she insisted, frowning and holding up a baggy combination of designer pants and shirt that I would have preferred not to be seen dead in. We were in a ridiculously expensive and as unlikely a named store, Banana Republic.

  “You will be performing in front of a live audience of top executives, television personnel, and celebrities, not to mention appearances on national TV . . . with the likes of David Letterman, no less,” she said as she stamped her foot and glared at me.

  Amelia always brought up David Letterman when attempting to emphasize the importance of the role I was to be playing during this promotional period. It seemed that, above all others, it was considered a great honor to appear on the Late Show. Though I knew little about the politics behind the world of American television, I had learned enough to realize that Letterman was placed right up there next to God (as far as TV hosts are concerned). From what I personally had seen of his show, I couldn’t fathom it, as my only comparison was to the UK’s Graham Norton, who, to me, had a completely different style and approach. Admittedly, however, Letterman did interview some of the world’s biggest celebrities, and promotion was after all what this whole business was about. It made sense not to be critical until I had gained more experience in this field.

  Until this promotional tour, my part in the television business had been mostly running wild through the undergrowth with a film team on my heels as I pursued wild animals. To now find myself involved at the other end of the spectrum was an eye-opener. This was the business side of the product I was supplying, that which made all the expense viable. The gamble, it seemed, was to spend money to make money. And for someone of my meager means, who valued every cent and just got by supporting myself with wildlife photography, it came as quite a shock. My first-class airplane ticket to New York alone could have supported my simple lifestyle for two years. I could not begin to imagine what my luxurious Ritz-Carlton suite was costing per night. It was all quite bewildering.

  The first days consisted of exhausting interviews with a variety of TV and celebrity magazines, with each night inevitably ending in an ostentatious dinner at one or another of New York’s well-known socialite restaurants. Then came the day of media training, a new experience for me, where I was subjected to a lecture, and then rehearsed—on camera—to answer a series of questions that I might be confronted with during live television broadcasts. I was astonished to learn that, depending on whose program I was being featured, there were questions that were to be avoided, while others were to be encouraged. I was also astonished to realize that I was under such scrutiny as not to be free to voice my own opinions if they were not considered in line with American television’s “political correctness” at the time.

  Finally the big day of the Discovery Networks Presentation arrived, with my series, Austin Stevens: Snakemaster, being advertised and presented to all attendees beforehand in a boxed collection consisting of photographs and a video cassette of my Borneo adventure episode. The supporting blurb read as follows:

  There are only two kinds of snakemen—the quick, and the dead! Now, meet the quickest.

  Dear TCA Attendee:r />
  As you are preparing for July’s Television Critics Association, we wanted to prepare you for our new presentation.

  Meet Austin Stevens. A herpetologist, award-winning photographer, filmmaker, author, Kung Fu artist, and extreme adventurer, Stevens is as fascinating as the deadly creatures he scours the world to find, study, and photograph.

  Stevens wrestled with the feared and revered Giant Anaconda in the Amazon and calmly photographed extreme close-ups of the King Cobra in the remote forests of India. But he is the first to admit he isn’t completely fearless. A typical American spider, a high-rise elevator, big cities, and small closed places can raise beads of nervous sweat on his forehead.

  Animal Planet’s new series, Austin Stevens: Snakemaster, premiering Tuesday, October 5, at 8 p.m., follows Stevens as he travels around the world, from deserts of the American West to the dense jungles of Costa Rica, the outback of Australia, and the forbidden forests of Borneo, to explore and photograph some of the world’s rarest and deadliest snakes and animals.

  Enclosed is a tape of Austin’s incredible journey across Borneo, in search of the Reticulated Python—a snake known to grow to 30 feet and capable of swallowing a man whole!

  Animal Planet’s presentation is part of the Discovery Networks TCA time slot on Thursday, July 22, 10 a.m.–12 p.m. Panel to include: Austin Stevens: Snakemaster, herpetologist, award-winning wildlife photographer; Graham Booth: executive producer, Tigress Productions.

  The show was presented in grand style, with hundreds of potential advertisers and connected television executives, celebrities, and personnel comfortably seated in a huge theatre bristling with television camera crews, sound technicians, and affiliated paraphernalia. At the head of the sloped seating arrangement was a raised stage area where the presenters could introduce attending artists, backed by a huge screen where film segments pertaining to each category were to be televised. Further screens were strategically placed around the theatre, affording a perfect view of the proceedings from any part of the theatre. It was, in essence, a Hollywood-style presentation, with top television executives hosting the show, featuring numerous “talents” being called up to stage to present their new shows for the year to come.

  The executive producer of my series, Graham Booth, flew out from Bristol especially to attend the shows and offer support, something which I was most grateful for. I was, after all, just a simple wildlife photographer from a little-known desert country suddenly hurled into the frenetic world that is American television promotion. This was all new to me, and it felt good to have somebody from my personal team at my side. Far more familiar with this type of business, Graham confessed to me that he had never before experienced anything on the elaborate scale of what we were now being presented with. DCI was pulling out all the stops, as could be expected, with all potential advertising sales in the immediate future depending on the success of the these shows, whose sole purpose was to advertise the content of DCI’s programs for the year ahead. The more potentially successful and popular the advertised programs were judged to be, the more lucrative the advertising slots. Austin Stevens: Snakemaster, I was assured, was high up on that potential list. The pressure was on, and I was expected to perform.

  Performing in front of cameras in the presence of a live audience is of course very different from performing in the field. Here there is no chance for a retake or an edit. And though I became accustomed to performing public demonstrations and lectures during my years as a professional herpetologist at reptile parks, that was a long time ago, and it certainly was not usually in the presence of such an elite audience. Strangely enough, I was not that nervous about it all, possibly because the full extent of what I was involved in had not yet fully registered. My first on-stage live performance would soon remedy that.

  Up to that point I had been watching the show from the sidelines, out of sight and behind the curtains. I had been afforded only limited rehearsal time, enough only to know my positions required on stage during my performance, with the rest being left up to me. A radio microphone was attached to my collar, and the cable fed under my shirt to a receiver attached to my belt in the small of my back. A brush-over from a makeup artist, and I was all ready to go on cue.

  Numerous shows from a multitude of categories were being advertised, with the likes of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and American Chopper being amongst the last leading up to mine. In the wildlife documentary adventure series, my show had been promoted as the one to watch for and was held back till the last minute possible, with the audience having been treated to on-screen snippets at various intervals throughout the presenting of all the other shows.

  Finally the moment arrived, as with much fanfare and enthusiastic introduction, the master of ceremonies, the chief executive of DCI himself, announced my show to the eager audience while on the giant screen behind him a dramatic video segment of my encounter with a king cobra, as I laid my hand down upon the snake’s enormous head, was shown for all to see. My last words from that segment, “I have always wanted to do that,” were my cue to appear on stage. This I did to tumultuous applause, desperately trying to overcome the untimely nervous sensation that seemed to suddenly envelop me. Putting my best foot forward, I strode across the stage to shake hands with the esteemed head of DCI, at the same time acknowledging the crowd with what I hoped passed for an enthusiastic wave and a smile.

  “Austin, we are so pleased to have you on the show. But tell us, why do you do the things you do? And what everybody wants to know: Why is it that you felt you had to place your hand on the head of that king cobra? Surely this is playing with your life?”

  This was my cue to rattle off my basic history, how I felt about photographing wildlife, and how I was pleased to bring my adventures into the homes of the world in the hopes of dispelling some of the myths and fears generally associated with snakes and other reptiles.

  “Austin, you seem to be fearless in the face of such potentially dangerous animals. Is there anything that you are afraid of?”

  This was now my cue to explain that, while I had studied and understood wild animal behavior, my fears evolved from the more mundane everyday things, like being claustrophobic and unable to travel in elevators, while at the same time the thought of being in a swaying high-rise building terrified me. It just seemed so unnatural. I also pointed out that I was rather nervous around spiders. This the audience lapped up with astonished delight. They had just seen footage of me reaching out to touch a wild king cobra on the head . . . and now I confess to being afraid of spiders. Hilarious!

  “Well Austin, from the footage we have seen so far, it looks like your series will be an exciting treat for all our viewers. Now I believe you have brought something to show us, am I right?” This was my next cue, all prepared and ready to go. Stepping over to a mysterious suitcase that had been unobtrusively present on stage throughout my appearance, I bent down and began to unfasten the catches.

  “Yes, I have. As you’ve all seen on screen, I have just returned from filming in India.” Steadily my hands worked on the suitcase latches, as though having some difficulty undoing them. I continued chatting: “On my arrival here in New York I was astonished to find I had acquired some extra baggage, a stowaway no less. And so I thought to bring him along for you to meet.” And with one fluid motion from the now-open case, I plucked out a four-foot-long Asian cobra and swung it precariously by the tail over the edge of the stage, where the first rows of seated audience sat, eagerly leaning forward for a better look.

  Startled by the sudden handling and exposure to the bright lights illuminating the stage, the snake emitted an audible hiss, flattening its neck into a defensive hood, poised to strike. For one split second, in mid-air, I released the snake, to regrab it more securely just over the edge of the stage, where it threatened to drop into the now-not-so-enthralled audience. This must have given the appearance that I was throwing it at the audience, and there was an immediate scramble for distant places as the first few row
s of seats were hastily evacuated. Oh Lordy! Though I do like to entertain my audience, this was not the time or place for something like that, and I just knew I was going to be seriously reprimanded later.

  With the cobra now safely back on stage, I hastily broke into dialog concerning the reptile, demonstrating how it makes a defensive hood, as though to attack, though all the while attempting to escape rather than fight. Somewhat settled down again, the audience remained skeptical, with the front rows of seats closest to me remaining unoccupied for the duration.

  Soon my segment was concluded with loud, if somewhat nervous, applause from the audience, and I was free to leave the stage with my cobra safely tucked away back in the suitcase. The snake had of course not traveled from India with me but was borrowed from a private collector for the occasion. There were three more such shows to attend over the next few days—in three different cities—and I noted that on each occasion the first three front rows closest to the stage were left vacant. I think it had been decided that this particular “talent” was a loose cannon, somewhat unpredictable . . . and precautions were taken.

  The meet-and-greet gatherings taking place after each show were another eye opener for me, the first being held at the New York Museum of Natural History, surrounded by displays and a full-sized blue whale suspended overhead. In the dining area, it was obvious that no expense had been spared. Dining tables and chairs were scattered around the hall amongst elaborate displays of palm trees and water features. A buffet offering just about anything and everything imaginable spread out as far as the eye could see under the subdued wall lighting, while the bar, constructed completely of ice, with the Discovery logo engraved in its front, seductively offered to satisfy any thirst.

  Crowds of people were milling around, many of whom approached me to introduce themselves, congratulating me on my performance at the show and my TV series in general. The mood was festive, with Amelia introducing me to people in the business as well as to numerous well-known TV and film stars. During the two weeks of the promotional tour, I would meet Donald Trump, Daryl Hannah, Kevin Costner, Cindy Crawford, Tony Danza, Carmen Electra, and Alyssa Milano, to name but a few. It was indeed a dazzling time for a simple, desert-dwelling wildlife photographer like myself.