Jonah is the Whale: Inside the $20 million campaign to free Keiko

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Outside Magazine August 2001

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Jonah is the Whale: Inside the $20 million campaign to free Keiko
SB&WM, 25, sharp dresser, virgin, seeks companionship for long ocean swims, romantic herring dinners, and partnership for those difficult middle years. Must be loaded, have access to sonar and private fishing armada. Knowledge of marine biology a real plus!

By Natasha Singer

THOU SHALL NOT look the talent in the eye.

Thou shalt not pat, stroke, rub the nose of, or otherwise fondle the talent.

Thou shalt neither encourage the talent to ham it up nor applaud his antics, no matter how much he begs for attention.

These are the commandments one must abide by to land an interview with the world's largest movie star--more reclusive than the retired Garbo and undergoing a tough-love rehab program in a remote corner of Iceland. Having sworn not to molest him, I'm escorted onto an eye-popping neon-orange skiff called the Draupnir, which will ferry his entourage and me across the harbor of Heimaey Island, off the south coast of Iceland, to see the celebrity shut-in.

"Nobody from the media has been allowed to see him for, I'd say, at least a year," his main handler, Jeff Foster, yells to me as we rocket over wind-whipped chop. "ABC, NBC, and other TV crews came out, but they could only shoot him from across the bay. No close-ups. Were they pissed off..." For the first time in seven months, he explains, the star will be taken for a "walk," the start of an exercise program to shape the couch potato up for summer.

"You don't have a camera, do you?" Foster interjects, panicking suddenly that he forgot the fourth and most vital commandment: Thou shalt not photograph the talent. "No? Good. Because he performs for the camera, and we're trying to get him away from that. He learned to love the camera during filming. Remember not to look straight at him. Only take a peek indirectly out of the corner of your eye."

Foster, 45, is a lifelong sea-hound from Seattle with an earthen all-weather tan and a shaggy mop of thick dirty-blond hair. In his time he has served some major divas, including a 1,700-pound walrus named Georgie Girl who for months used to plop her head in his lap every evening and moan contentedly while he read her bedtime stories. Many aquarium veterans consider Foster the world's top marine- mammal tamer, a man with an innate gift for charming sea creatures. He routinely gets into tanks with his outsize heavyweight charges, roughhousing with them as though he were one of them. Normally he's a laid-back, roll-with-the-punches guy, but today Foster is edgy; he has to ensure an interloper doesn't goose the talent's ample flank or play paparazzo.

"You never get used to spotting him for the first time," Foster relates as the boat slows and pulls into a cove. "Every time you see him, you get a little thrill. Some people get out of control."

I practice averting my gaze, but before I'm fully prepared, the 10,000-pound star sneaks up on us and exhales loudly. He tilts his head and it's clear he's angling for an introduction. For my part, I instantly break the solemn commandments I swore to uphold only minutes ago and make eye contact. It's too hard not to react, not to flirt with the headliner in his white collar and black tuxedo, shiny as a Kalamata olive. More loyal than Lassie, brainier than Barney, friendlier than Flipper, swift as Secretariat, bigger even than Big Bird and Dumbo--Keiko the killer whale exudes the kind of instant allure that makes it clear why he's become an idol.

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