Credit: Dangerous Minds / Reddit

Escape artistry is very strange when you get right down to it.

A combination of sleight of hand, showmanship, misdirection and dexterity used for…what, being able to get out of increasingly elaborate pairs of handcuffs?

It’s a strange thing for the world to be enthralled by, and yet, we are. The more you look into it, the more understandable it gets. It’s the ultimate expression of the human need to live independently. That no one gets to have any say over our own lives but us. It’s a fantasy for the vast majority of us, and maybe that’s why the likes of Harry Houdini, Dorothy Dietrich and James Randi are so beloved.

We look up to them the way we look up to our favourite actors and musicians. People who have lived their lives on their own terms and found fame and fortune from it. I would also suggest that we put Ken Allen in that list, if not at number one, then a close second behind Houdini himself. Born February 13th, 1971, the San Diego native became a legend as a teenager for his uncanny ability to escape any captivity he was put in.

This uncanny ability made him a worldwide phenomenon. With fan clubs all across the world, T-shirts bearing his surprisingly hairy visage and even songs written about him. Throughout his tragically short life, there was absolutely no restraint placed on the ginger phenomenon that he couldn’t work his way out of with a little time and cunning. He was even sometimes accompanied by his ladyfriends on his escapes, depending on who else was in his enclosure.

Enclosure? Oh, yeah, did I mention?

The world’s greatest escape artist was a Bornean Orangutan.

Turns out, a thirst for freedom transcends humanity. Although that said, Ken Allen, presumably named by the kind of people who’d name their cat Steven, might just be a close enough evolutionary counterpart to us for him to still count. From an early age, Ken looked like he was going to be an incredibly charming type of handful.

Even when he was in his zoo nursery (a concept I must know everything there is to know about as soon as possible), he was able to remove the door to his enclosure not by brute strength, but by an even more spectacular fashion. Allen was able to unscrew the nuts and bolts holding his door in place when most primates of his age were still working out which hole of theirs they put food into.

By 1985, Allen had moved into the main primate enclosure of San Diego Zoo and, perhaps predictably, immediately began breaking out of it. However, what separated Allen’s breakouts from other examples of wild animals breaking out of their enclosures at the zoo was just how chill they were. He was never violent to any patron or any other animal, merely sauntering through the zoo looking at other animals until he was led back to his enclosure.

This was the baffling part of Allen’s personality. He was an extremely docile, friendly creature who was never a problem to anyone other than his repeated escapes. No matter how much money was spent on overhauling his enclosure, he always found a way out. That was a lot of money too, with the zoo spending $40,000 in 1987 hiring experienced rock climbers to find every finger, toe and foothold in its enclosure.

This seemed to finally put an end to Allen’s escapology but not to his pleasant demeanour or his fervent fanbase. Needless to say, when he was finally put down in 2000 due to B-cell lymphoma, there was a candlelit vigil held in his honour by his fanbase. This most human of apes deserved nothing less.