More Reasons For an Exotic Animal Ban in Ohio

If there was any doubt that the state of Ohio desperately needs a ban on private ownership of exotic animals, then the case of Sam Mazzola ought to be enough to convince the doubters out there. Mazzola, who lives in a suburb of Cleveland, made headlines last month when one of his "pet" bears mauled its caretaker, 24-year-old Brent Kandra. Kandra died as a result of his wounds.

It was a tragedy, and a preventable tragedy at that, if Ohio had even the most rudimentary of exotic animal laws.

According to some reports, the bear responsible for Kandra's death is one of eight black bears owned by Sam Mazzola. As of last year, he also owned two white tigers, two Bengal tigers, a lion, and twelve wolves. It's not exactly the kind of menagerie one expects to find in the suburbs.

Mazzola's record as an animal owner is checkered, at best. His core business, as it were, seems to be staging wrestling matches between humans and bears. By his own admission, Mazzola staged over 22,000 such matches, usually of the variety where anybody off the street (or at the bar, more likely) can pay a small fee and win a cash prize if they pin the bear down. In 1987, Mazzola was on the receiving end of a $300,000 lawsuit from one participant for injuries received during a wrestling bout.

Then there are the warnings and citations from the U.S. Department of Agriculture, and there are a lot of those — at least thirteen citations between 2001 and 2005. In 2006, the USDA revoked Mazzola's license. As the events surrounding the death of Brent Kandra show, even that didn't stop Mazzola. Last year, he pled guilty in federal court to two counts of exhibiting and selling exotic animals without a license. He got probation and community service.

Mazzola's problems with the law are not just limited to animals, however. He's also got problems with humans. In 1990, Mazzola was sentenced to 18 months in prison for cocaine trafficking. That conviction, in turn, led to two additional arrests for illegal possession of a firearm. (In Ohio, as in most places, convicted felons don't get to own guns.) In his second firearms-related conviction, in 1997, the judge suspended a one-year prison sentence on the condition that Mazzola get anger management counseling.

There's just no way that Sam Mazzola should have been allowed to own and exploit exotic animals, and certainly not for decades. The problem is, there's not a whole heck of a lot anyone could do about it. The feds yanked his license, but they don't regulate everything, nor do they have the resources to enforce the federal laws all that well. The local government claimed that their hands were tied; exotic animal and wildlife enforcement were in the hands of the state. The state, as I mentioned above, didn't really have a charge that they could stick to Mazzola.

Perhaps the Ohio Compromise can help. The compromise, announced in June, is a three-way deal between the Humane Society, agricultural interests, and Ohio's governor, Ted Strickland. Among the reforms is a statewide ban on ownership of exotic animals. The new law is still being developed, so it's difficult to say what it will ultimately contain. A spokesperson for Strickland says that folks who currently own exotic animals will be "grandfathered" in, but there will be a provision for existing owners who behave badly in terms of how they manage their exotic animals. There's no question at all that Sam Mazzola would fall into that category.

Passing a new law isn't going to bring back Brent Kandra, and it's not going to bring back the dozens, if not hundreds, of animals abused by Sam Mazzola over his decades of exploitation. It's a start. It won't bring justice for Mazzola's victims, but perhaps it will make Mazzola the last of his breed in Ohio.

Photo credit: RickC