Until Saturday I had never been to a memorial service in a stadium, or one for an animal, much less a mountain lion. But as I stood in line at the Greek Theater for P-22’s Celebration of Life, there was no place I would have rather been.
The free event was organized by Beth Pratt, an executive director of the National Wildlife Federation and P-22’s most ardent advocate. For years, Pratt has traveled the country to tell his unlikely story, raising money for a wildlife bridge that is now under construction in Agoura. When completed, mountain lions and other animals will be able to safely reach the Santa Monica Mountains across the 101 freeway, saving themselves not only from vehicle strikes but extinction.
More than a decade ago, after miraculously crossing both the 101 and 405 freeways, P-22 established a solitary life in Griffith Park, a habitat much too small for a mountain lion. Yet he thrived, living past the age of twelve, the maximum for his species. Because he made frequent forays into park-adjacent neighborhoods like mine, his ramblings—recorded by cell phones and home cameras—became the most coveted celebrity sightings in Los Angeles. As soon as he became known in 2012, the public demanded P-22 be allowed to stay in Griffith Park. His decade there sparked new interest in wildlife and a remarkable co-existence.
Like many others, I followed the mountain lion’s adventures and longed to see him for myself. I never did, but last spring I was rewarded with a cell phone video of P-22 galloping down my block. With his grace, enormous paws and long, powerful tail, he was magnificent. Across the street from my house he abruptly turned to get away from a car (whose driver was shooting the video), and disappeared into a neighbor’s garden. Afterwards I thought of P-22 as my mountain lion, and I thought of him all the time.
Others felt the same, and claimed all the tickets for his memorial service within two hours. The event lasted more than three hours and featured a large list of wildlife experts, park officials, dignitaries, school children and celebrities. Those who had worked most closely with P-22, like Jeff Sikich, the National Park Service biologist who runs the research study that gave the mountain lion a radio collar and his name, spoke as expected. Sikich described his “trapper and cat” relationship with P-22, whom he captured seven times to replace batteries and administer medical care. The presence of local and state officials—City Councilperson Nithya Raman, State Senator Anthony Portantino, and State Representative Laura Friedman—also came as no surprise, since all represent Griffith Park.
It was a taped appearance by Governor Gavin Newsom, who spoke about his late father’s advocacy for mountain lions at the Sierra Club and the Environmental Defense Fund, that made me see that the P-22 Celebration of Life was more than a local event. This realization was underscored by a live appearance by Rep. Adam Schiff, who described P-22 as a constituent and talked of showing his photos to disbelieving officials in Africa. Schiff wasn’t the only U.S. Congressman present. Ted Lieu, who represents the non-Griffith Park adjacent districts of Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, the Beach cities and Palos Verdes, presented a $2.5 million check from the U.S. Treasury for the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Bridge. (The director of the Annenberg Foundation appeared later, and announced a $10 million challenge grant for the project.)
There were celebrities, Tonga and Chumash tribal leaders, and elementary school students. Children credited P-22 for their interest in wildlife, and one announced his decision to become an architect and designer of wildlife bridges. There was a performance of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” by The Tokens, and a silly original song by the actor Rainn Wilson. The DJ Diplo and the muralist Corie Mattie spoke of their encounters with P-22 . But most memorable was a poetic speech by Chuck Bonham, director of the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, who made the difficult decision to euthanize him.
P22 was beautifully abstract, the essence of the wildness of wild things. He was also something very real. I didn’t realize that last aspect until I held his paw in my hand, and the weight overwhelmed me….I’ve thought about him a lot since then, trying to sooth my soul.
I went out in search of water and met Adam Schiff, who is my Congressman as well as P-22’s.
“Did you come all the way from Washington for this?,” I asked.
“This, and a few other things,” he said.
In his speech, Schiff announced his nomination of P-22 to the USPS’s Citizens’ Advisory Board, and urge the public to add its support. If it passes, Steve Winter’s iconic photo of P-22 below the Hollywood Sign will grace a future postage stamp. But already in Los Angeles, P-22’s image is everywhere: in shops and sidewalk shrines; on murals and T-shirts and buttons. In death, as in his long, eventful life, our Lion King connects the human and natural worlds.