The Legend of "The Submarine"

Stories from the Museum:  The Legend of “The Submarine”

The year 1975 brought a specific, chilling transformation to the Cape Town coastline. Following the global release of Steven Spielberg’s Jaws, the waters of False Bay were suddenly viewed with a profound sense of suspicion and awe. This cinematic masterpiece sparked a feverish interest in the great white shark, _Carcharodon carcharias_, turning a predator of the deep into a figure of both terror and intense fascination. In Cape Town, this shark fever was a local reality that gripped the public's imagination and changed the way people interacted with the sea.

At the center of this local obsession was a legendary specimen that fishermen had come to call "The Submarine." This was no ordinary shark; it was a massive, seven-metre beast that haunted the bay like a dark, hulking ghost. It was said to be enormous, appearing as a terrifying shadow that would terrorize small fishing boats before vanishing into the depths. For the people of Cape Town, "The Submarine" was more than a fish; it was a ghost of the deep, a creature that existed on the boundary between maritime reality and urban legend.

For Dr. Tom Barry, the Director of the South African Museum during this era, the legend represented a golden opportunity. He envisioned a world-class display that would capitalize on the public's intense curiosity and create a museum exhibit that would rival the spectacle seen on the silver screen. To bring this ambitious dream to life, the museum’s marine biologists established a close partnership with the Ferreira brothers, professional shark hunters with an intimate knowledge of the Cape’s treacherous waters. The arrangement was clearly defined: the museum officially commissioned the brothers with a monumental task. If they ever managed to cross paths with "The Submarine" and successfully catch it, the museum wanted the carcass delivered immediately so they could make a mould and create a full-scale replica for public display.

The logistical challenge of handling such a massive creature required significant foresight and preparation. Dr. Barry commissioned an  excavation at the back of the museum's parking lot, specifically intended to serve as a preservation tank. This was a deep, trench dug into the earth, lined with Gunplas to ensure it remained completely watertight. The intent was to create a full-scale cast of the  specimen by the museum's taxidermy team, led by the meticulous Mr. Rau. The pits function was to preserve the specimen when it arrived.. For weeks, the empty pit sat in the parking area, a silent witness to the museum's high expectations and a local curiosity that drew the attention of staff and visitors alike.

While the exhibition team were fixated on the "Year of the Shark," other departments continued their scholarly work in relative isolation. Among them was Frank Schweitzer, a distinguished archaeologist whose professional life was defined by the deep time of the Stone Age. Frank was a man whose mind was usually occupied by the complex stratigraphic layers of his ongoing research at Klipgat cave. His days were spent analyzing ancient hearths and microlithic tools, far removed from the cinematic hysteria of modern-day predators or the giant hole recently excavated in the museum's backyard.

The climax of this strange period occurred on a late afternoon when Frank was preparing to head home. As he climbed into his dusty Land Rover, his thoughts were likely miles away, perhaps lingering on the findings at De Kelders. He shifted the vehicle into reverse and, without checking the area behind him, began to back up. He was entirely unaware of how close his parking spot was to the edge of the shark pit. In a sudden instant, the rear wheels left the solid ground and the vehicle plunged tail-first into the hole. The descent ended with a heavy thud as the vehicle came to rest vertically, its nose pointing toward the sky.

The institution had prepared a grave for a legendary sea monster, only to "catch" a dusty Land Rover and a very embarrassed archaeologist. Mr. Rau famously described the incident as a "tremendous kerfuffle." Shortly after this accidental "capture," the project lost its momentum. The pit was eventually filled in and paved over, returning the parking lot to its original state. "The Submarine" stayed a legend, continuing to patrol the deep waters of False Bay, while the museum’s only trophy was a marvelous story about an absent-minded scientist and a very deep hole.