Businessweek Archives  A Zoo Changes Its Stripes  Letter From
San Francisco   It's morning at the San Francisco Zoo, and the
sea fog that usually shrouds the eucalyptus forest here has
burned off. A few peacocks are squawking. Keepers shlump around
in their rubber boots. We're touring the vacant Monkey Island,
once home to 70 spider monkeys.  "See that ledge right there?"
one of the former keepers says, pointing to a perch over a
tunnel entrance. "That's where they used to nail us when we came
through the door. I can still remember their little butts
hanging over."  Ingratitude? No. Revenge, I now realize.  This
55-year-old mound of concrete was once one of the zoo's most
popular attractions. As a little girl back in the '60s, I longed
to leap the moat and join the spry, funny creatures scampering
around on the big rock. But had I known then what I know now, I
would have been heartbroken.  Monkey Island exemplifies the poor
--sometimes appalling--animal management that characterized many
zoos for much of this