When the old keeper forgot one latch, the 400-pound silverback reached through the steel

something.

Years later, when I asked Tom how he had earned Winston’s trust, he shrugged as if the answer was too ordinary to be worth naming.

“I showed up,” he said. “Then I showed up again.”

That was the kind of man he was. He believed steadiness was not a personality trait but a duty. He believed animals remembered rhythm better than speeches. He did continue reading …