For more than half a century, Harvey the Rabbit has brought love and laughter to the good people of West Portland. The quirky 25-foot-tall bunny stands merrily beside the Tualitin Valley Highway in scenic Aloha, offering a big wave and a warm grin to generations of Oregonians.
Most pass by, honk, and think no more of the brief encounter. But those brief moments are all that keep Harvey standing.
To spend time with Harvey – I mean really spend time with him – is to discover that this bunny’s smile is merely painted on. Behind the gaudy clothing and outrageous whiskers is a thoughtful, if deeply troubled, individual with a traumatic past and a poet’s soul.
Harvey’s been tortured, abused, abandoned, and felt the crushing weight of hatred and prejudice. He’s survived a brutal sexual assault that would bring most roadside attractions to their knees. Yet even as the world crumbles around him, Harvey, putting the happiness of those passing by before his own needs, keeps up the façade.
And now it’s time for the true horror of Harvey’s life to be cast into the Oregon sun.
Species dysphoria blues
Harvey started life not as a rabbit, but as a man. He was originally one of around 300 Big Friends created to stand proudly in front of Texaco gas stations. From a young age he felt uncomfortable with his identity, as if he’d been born into the wrong fibreglass body. To this day, Harvey dislikes talking about this part of his life, and refuses to reveal what his ‘dead name’ was.
“That man with the hat and the eyebrows has been dead a long time,” Harvey told me in an honest and wide-ranging interview. “Deep down, I always knew I was different from the other Big Friends. I’d look at my reflection in car windows and think, ‘Where are my pointy ears and fluffy tail? But it wasn’t easy to be yourself back in the 1960s. I was filled with inner turmoil. A tsunami of self-hatred raged within me.”
In 1962, the winds of change blew through Oregon. A massive storm brutalised the ‘old Harvey’ and sent him careening upon a journey of self-acceptance. The statue’s owner took his broken Big Thing to Harvey Marine for repair, leaving him with owner Ed Harvey as he stepped out for ‘a pack of cigarettes’.
He never returned.
“The storm broke my head in half,” Harvey lamented, ” but my father abandoning me broke my soul in half. I gave up on life for a while after that.”
Harvey lay amongst the verdant Portland grass for more than a decade, peeling in the sun, forgotten and neglected. The few bright spots in his mundane existence came when Ed would take him to a nearby lake to use him as a boat. Harvey, craving any kind of acknowledgement, simply went along with this deplorable act of emotional manipulation.
Man, I feel like a rabbit
During the free-lovin’ summer of 1974, Ed Harvey became obsessed with a movie about a giant invisible rabbit named Harvey and, late one night, decided to make his own. It was 1974, after all.
Ed crafted a monstrous bunny-head out of fibreglass and plonked it atop the Big Friends’ broad shoulders, then erected him outside his shop.
The response was immediate, with thousands of fanatical supporters enthusiastically honking their horns as they drove past. Love letters poured in, and it was common for bouquets of roses and boxes of chocolates to be found at Harvey’s oversized feet.
Harvey, finally, seemed to have found the love he so craved.
“I waved at 10,000 motorists a day, and 10,000 motorists waved right back at me,” Harvey enthused. “People travelled from around the world to meet me. I had my photo taken with the Beatles, Muhammad Ali and Elvis Presley. I was even engaged to Farrah Fawcett for a few weeks, until she sobered up. It was good, man, it was good.”
There’s nothing bunny about what happened next
The good times, unfortunately, were short-lived. Harvey, as a trans-specied rabbit in a predominately white, heterosexual neighbourhood, was the target of disgusting bigotry. His fingers were broken off. His ears were stolen. And then the unthinkable happened.
During a cold, moonless evening in the mid-90s, a gang of depraved perverts descended upon Harvey. Not prone to prejudice, Harvey greeted them with his customary smile and wave, but the creeps wanted something more. They wanted Harvey’s innocence.
The particulars of this deranged encounter have, thankfully, been lost to the ravages of time. Harvey acknowledges that something happened but, understandably, does not want to relive the darkest period of his life. All we know is that when Ed arrived at work the next day, a grotesquely oversized phallus had been attached to poor Harvey.
“Yeah, they stuck a big penis on him,” Ed’s son told a media scrum at the time. The quote made headlines around the world.
Ed and his family were physically sickened by what they saw. Portland was shocked, with a slow procession of cars passing by to honk solemnly. Harvey, of course, went right on smiling as his whole world fell apart.
Down the rabbit hole
Harvey’s life spiralled out of control. He was used by the FBI as a meeting place for informers. He underwent extensive plastic surgery to radically alter his appearance, as if distancing himself from the lacerations of his past.
“With my physical limitations, I wasn’t able to look in a mirror – and I doubt there’s one big enough, anyway,” Harvey trembled. “But if I had been able to, I wouldn’t have liked what I saw. I wanted to erase any trace of my former self.”
Portlanders turned their attention to alternative rock and craft beer. The number of honks decreased into nothingness. Ed Harvey passed away in 2017, and Harvey Marine closed its doors for the final time. The giant rabbit was discarded once again. He now stands beside an empty building, promoting nothing, beaten by time and the relentless Oregon rain.
Despite the horror show of his life, Harvey is still an impressive specimen. He’s incredibly quirky and distinctive, and his size induces a real sense of awe – much like the nearby Paul Bunyan. The giant bunny’s a work of art by any definition, an icon, a part of the region’s rich history. He’s fun to take photos with, and as welcoming as any Big you’ll ever find. He can even be quite playful and cheeky if caught on the right day.
Just understand that this is one Big Thing who has been through hell and has the scars to prove it.
Don’t worry, be hoppy
Knowing our time together was coming to an end, Harvey and I stood in silent unison for the longest time. The only sound was the beating of our hearts and the occasional honk from a disinterested local. I tried to find the right words but, for once, they wouldn’t come.
“You know, Harvey,” I stumbled, “it’s going to get easier.”
Harvey stood there in the mist, waved at a passing SUV, did his best to hide the single tear that rolled down his plump cheek. “No,” he replied sadly, “it won’t.”
I patted Harvey on his muscular calf, gave him a sad smile of understanding, and walked away forever.
