Cartoon, photo and essay
by Micah Liesenfeld

There’s a well-loved sculpture park across a bridge from the St. Louis Zoo. Many a cheapskate parent has hauled the family across the highway and away from the zoo to ensure a truly commercial-free experience. Most adults go to Turtle Park to let their kids go feral on the sculptures of giant turtles and serpents. They run, they slide, they climb, they fall. Sometimes, though, you will see a lone adult just sitting on a turtle, presumably on lunch break.

There are giant flat turtles; smaller, rounder turtles; and eggs cracking open to reveal emerging baby turtles. All of the seven terrapin types represented are Missouri natives. Sunny Glassberg, a philanthropist who became known as The Turtle Lady, donated the money for the unique playground, which opened in 1996. Glassberg’s kids often brought home live turtles, and that inspired her idea for the park. She commissioned sculptor Bob Cassilly, of City Museum fame, to fashion the creatures, and architect Richard Claybour to design the park. The concrete turtles are named after Sunny’s kids and grandkids.

Look for a bit, and you’ll notice that serpents encircle the baby turtles as if they are about to be their next meal. Did the late Bob Cassilly intend an ominous look? Of course, I slipped head first down a rabbit hole searching for the answer.

Some years after the park opened, Forest Park director Annabeth Calkins worried that Cassilly might not work to preserve the turtles, so Calkins hired a local cement contractor to coat the turtles with a weatherproofing agent. Outcry from Cassilly was swift and loud. He claimed the weatherproofing product had damaged his art. Then days later, graffiti mysteriously showed up on the turtles themselves. One sprayed on phrase read, “WE’VE BEEN SLIMED.”

After reading about the controversy, I stumbled upon the name of the contractor hired by the city: Ron Sanson of Sansone Construction. Holy Moly, he’s my uncle!  Naturally, I called him up.

I’ve interacted with my Uncle Ron mostly at family gatherings, and, as a kid, I tried not to block his view of the football game during Thanksgiving dinners. As an adult, I find him easy to converse with and very giving of his time. So giving that not only did I get Ron’s side of the story about Turtle Park but I also got to hear a hefty chunk of his life story.

Ron got his feet wet in the construction world working for his dad, Carl, before breaking away to start his own business specializing in concrete and brickwork. Ron’s dad, to put it nicely, was difficult to work for. He attracted top talent, but he had trouble keeping them because of poor “employer-employee relations.” Many of his best workers eventually left to start their own businesses. When the Forest Park director asked if Ron could preserve the sculptures in Turtle Park, it was perfect timing for Ron, who had been using a product called Deco to waterproof cement. He and his team worked for days to clean the turtles before applying the product.

Ron strongly denies that the Deco diminished details in the sculptures. And the graffiti that mysteriously appeared on the turtles? Allegedly, that was Cassilly’s doing. However, the vandalism helped prove the efficacy of the cement coating. “The graffiti washed right off,” Ron said. “I was afraid the bad press was going to come back to bite me, my family, and my business, but nothing ever came of it.”

Despite Bob’s feelings about Ron’s work, Ron still holds Cassilly’s work in high regard. “He was a genius,” Ron said, “And like [many] artists, difficult to work with. It had to be his way or no way.” Ron then went on to tell me about all the beautiful work Cassilly had done around the city, how much he admired Bob for saving bits and pieces of demolished buildings to preserve as architectural history inside the City Museum, and even about his experience once visiting Bob in his studio and Ron’s attempt to buy some things from him. “This was before I had done the Turtle Park job,” Ron said. “Even then, I could tell he was tough to deal with. He was very hesitant to sell me anything.”

From what Ron said, there are similarities between Carl and Bob: both were not easy to work for – but Ron emerged from the strife with admiration for both men.

It struck me that my uncle seems to have weathered storms in his life very well, much like a turtle . . . covered in weatherproofing product.

I never learned the real meaning behind Turtle Park’s serpents and turtles, and perhaps there isn’t one. Cassilly worked quickly, so his sculptures were usually hardening before there was time to consider the whys of what he had done.

Nonetheless, as I made my comic, a strong message called out to me from the well-set stone of Turtle Park:

“Serpents are slithering
near your eggs.
 Parents: Watch your kids.”

– – – s s l – – –

Micah Liesenfeld is an instructional designer by day and a cartoonist by night, but if you rip off those disguises, you’ll find that he’s a husband and father of two who lives in St. Louis. You can also find him on Instagram @micahnova. Micah is a regular contributor to Supplement St. Louis. (And we are elated to have him.)

Editor’s Note: While editing Micah’s write-up, I was surprised to learn that I also have a personal connection to Turtle Park. I knew the late architect Richard Claybour well and admired his passionate allegiance to quality architecture. Passion all around can sometimes brew a superb outcome.