In 1923, 30-year-old neuroanatomist Raymond Dart took an assignment he dreaded: uprooting himself from University College, London — considered the world's center of medicine — to head the anatomy department at the University of Witwatersrand in South Africa. In fact, Dart couldn't imagine how lucky he was, but his luck became apparent in the fall of 1924. Dart had offered modest cash prizes to students who brought him bones that would be useful in teaching his classes. One student, Josephine Salomons, had brought him a fossil baboon skull, and he was so impressed, he asked for any other fossils found in the same quarry. He received another delivery of fossils from that quarry one Saturday afternoon as he dressed for a wedding reception to be held at his house. He recounted years later:
On the very top of the rock heap was what was undoubtedly an endocranial cast or mold of the interior of the skull. Had it been only the fossilised brain cast of any species of ape it would have ranked as a great discovery, for such a thing had never before been reported. But I knew at a glance that what lay in my hands was no ordinary anthropoidal brain. Here in lime-consolidated sand was the replica of a brain three times as large as that of a baboon and considerably bigger than that of an adult chimpanzee.
Dart rummaged through the box to find the face that fit the brain. He was successful, but by then the anxious groom was threatening to find another best man. Dart set the fossil aside to attend to the wedding, but he spent the next three months chipping matrix away from the face with sharpened knitting needles. When he finally removed the rock, he saw the face of an apelike child, the Taung Child.
Rather than dutifully sending the fossil off to an expert in England, the enthusiastic young Dart described the fossil himself. Not only did he point out the erect posture of the apelike creature, but confidently asserted about its kin that "their eyes saw, their ears heard, and their hands handled objects with greater meaning and to fuller purpose than the corresponding organs in recent apes." Within weeks, Dart submitted a manuscript to Nature Magazine, naming a new species: Australopithecus africanus. His description was published in early 1925. Dart expected that acceptance of his findings would be slow, but even he was amazed at the force of the objections. Some of the foremost paleoanthropologists of his day criticized Dart for mistaking a simple ape for a member of the human family tree.
Why the objections? At least one was legitimate. Juvenile apes, like the fossil Dart described, look more humanlike than adult apes. This led some to believe that Dart saw an affinity that wasn't really there. And before the age of reliable dating techniques, some thought the fossil was only 500,000 years old, far too young to be a human ancestor. Other criticisms were less valid. Despite Darwin's suggestion that humans arose in Africa, it was commonly believed for much of the 20th century that the birthplace of man was Asia. Dart's find was on the wrong continent. What's more, although prominent scientists of the time accepted the idea of evolution, they were convinced that there had always been a great gulf between humans and the rest of the animal kingdom. This creature of Dart's was just too apelike. Even Dart's nomenclature was criticized. An unsigned editorial in Nature complained about his mixing of Latin and Greek roots, commenting, "the niceties of etymology do not generally appeal to him." Most ironic of all, however, was that Dart's find conflicted with what was "known" from the Piltdown skull. When paleoanthropologists started paying serious attention to legitimate human fossils, their attention focused on Davidson Black's Peking Man, announced in 1929.
So the years after the Taung Child discovery were difficult ones for Dart, in which his first marriage collapsed — as did his nerves. He had an ally in Robert Broom, feisty doctor with an interest in paleontology. When Dart was completely demoralized by the criticism, Broom took over, and in 1936 found the first adult australopithecine skull. Unfortunately, Broom didn't have the influence to sway academic opinion, in part because of his own tendency to challenge authority. Broom was happy to play the role of dissident, but Dart was not.
In 1947, Sir Wilfrid Le Gros Clark visited South Africa to examine the Taung Child. Le Gros Clark had completed extensive studies of anthropoid apes in museum vaults to familiarize himself with the normal variations. Planning to play the devil's advocate to Dart, he instead left South Africa convinced that the Taung Child was part of the human family tree. Le Gros Clark's conclusion paved the way for acceptance of the Taung Child as human. Several years later, Le Gros Clark would prove instrumental in exposing the Piltdown skull as a hoax.
Although ahead of his time in many ways, Dart was a product of his time in others. When a colleague, Gertrude Caton-Thompson, argued at a scientific conference that elegant stone towers in Zimbabwe were the work of native Africans, not white Europeans, Dart angrily stormed out of the room. He had his gaffes as well. In the 1950s, he developed a idea about australopithecine culture that he called osteo-dento-keratic (meaning bone-tooth-horn) theory. Dart believed that human culture revolved around acquiring these symbols of strength from the animal kingdom, then using them against the animals and perhaps each other. He concluded that humans were inherently aggressive (maybe not such an unreasonable assumption given his work as a medical orderly during World War I). Although ODK theory attracted some admirers, it has been largely discredited by paleoanthropologists.
Narrative text and graphic design © by Michon Scott - Updated November 27, 2009