Paul Guncheon will never forget the horrific events of that August day 20 years ago, when Tyke the circus elephant went berserk, crushed a trainer to death and severely injured a groomer before bursting onto the streets of Kakaako in a rampage that ended in a hail of bullets.

Guncheon and his young family not only witnessed the tragedy inside the Blaisdell Arena, but in trying to reach a safe place outside the hall actually came face to face with the enraged elephant when it barrelled out of their same exit to make its escape.

The family ran for their lives.

"It was simply the most terrifying moment of my life," he said.

The astonishing series of events on Aug. 20, 1994, shocked Honolulu and sent repercussions around the world, inspiring elephant conservation and campaigns to outlaw animal acts here, across the country and beyond.

Tyke became a symbol for animal rights even as the full-grown African elephant was vilified as a bad seed with a history of misbehavior. Others said the elephant suffered abuse from its handlers, causing it to snap.

In Honolulu, scores of lawsuits were filed against the city, the state, the circus and Tyke’s owner, John Cuneo Jr., and his Hawthorn Corp., and proposals to ban elephants and other exotic and wild animal acts went before the Honolulu City Council and the state Legislature for years.

While a prohibition never materialized here, no circus featuring exotic animals has performed at the Blaisdell since Tyke.

That streak appeared to be in jeopardy this year after the Moscow International Circus announced that "wild animals" would be appearing in its Blaisdell shows Oct. 3-5.

Now, however, a circus spokesman says the animals will be excluded. Patrick Bullard said the decision was made because of "community considerations" and a short timeline for getting government approvals allowing the animals into the state.

The circus had planned to showcase a camel, llama, tiger and zebra, he said, but no elephants.

Animal activist groups, including People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, invoked the memory of Tyke as it mobilized its members in a social media campaign against the circus following the initial announcement.

"You would have hoped that we would have learned from Tyke," said Mary Steiner, policy advocate with the Hawaiian Humane Society.

Steiner said the nonprofit hopes to write a bill outlawing animal acts and have it introduced at next year’s legislative session.

"It’s such a sad situation," she said of traveling animal acts, including the bear show that appeared at this year’s 50th State Fair. "These animals are not really to be taken around like that. It’s just an accident waiting to happen."

Tyke certainly appeared to be an accident waiting to happen on that summer day 20 years ago, considering the elephant’s rap sheet with two separate rampaging incidents in Pennsylvania and North Dakota just the year before.

And it all played out in front of thousands of horrified Circus International spectators at the Blaisdell.

The animal, wearing a regal red headdress with a gold star, made her entrance kicking groomer Dallas Beckwith like a soccer ball and, when trainer Allen Campbell tried to intervene, Tyke pushed him to the ground and gave him a couple of lethal head-butts.

Tyke soon bolted from the arena and into nearby streets. For an astounding half-hour or so, the elephant nearly killed a man and terrified scores of others before being brought down by Honolulu police officers who riddled the animal with as many as 87 bullets, some from high-powered rifles. On the ground and still alive, Tyke received a lethal injection from zoo officials.

The memory of that day remains seared in the mind of Guncheon, then the technical director at the Diamond Head Theater, a designer for the opera and veteran theater carpenter.

Guncheon and his family, then-wife Esther, infant son Joe and 2-year-old Max, sat in the third row. About a half-hour into the performance the elephant made its entrance, kicking around what appeared to be a dummy.

"We thought it was part of the show," he said, but when the dummy moved and the elephant knocked down and crushed the trainer, the audience screamed in horror. The couple grabbed their young boys and headed swiftly for the exit on the far side of the arena.

"There was an announcement to, ‘Please be seated — everything is under control,’" Guncheon recalled. "But it was clearly not."

Outside the Blaisdell, between the arena and the exhibition hall, Guncheon and his wife, still clutching their youngsters, looked at each other as if to say, "Oh, my God!"

But in a few moments, Tyke burst through the turnstile and charged up to them from behind. The animal, Guncheon said, was literally 5 feet away, shaking her head from side to side, glaring threateningly.

"We turned and ran," he said.

Guncheon thought about going over the railing into a pond but decided to head for the parking lot instead, hoping to find some cover. But after about 30 feet, they noticed the elephant had veered off in a different direction.

In the commercial neighborhood outside the arena, Tyler Ralston, then 26, was driving on Waimanu Street. He was stunned to see an elephant moving in his direction with police trailing.

He ducked his car into Cummins Street and pulled into a motorcycle parts warehouse. In the next few moments, he would witness a bizarre spectacle: an agitated Tyke chasing what appeared to be a circus clown through a vacant lot, while Honolulu circus promoter Steve Hirano tried to hold the lot’s chain-link gate shut. Hirano was overwhelmed by the elephant and pushed to the ground, his leg shattered.

That’s when police shots started ringing out.

"It got a little scary," Ralston said.

The episode shook the man deeply, and he vowed to work for change: Over the next four years he joined with groups in hopes of passing laws aimed at preventing this from happening again. He gathered two boxes of information, spent $10,000 of his own money on newspaper ads and worked hard to rally support for a ban.

In the end, nothing was accomplished.

"It did not make sense that nothing passed," Ralston recalled. "We had so much support. All the evidence is there. And yet for some reason two plus two was not equaling four for them — for the city, for the state."

Ralston, a Honolulu clinical psychologist, points out that some 30 countries have established prohibitions on exotic circus animals. Just last month, he noted, Mexico City established a similar ban.

In Congress, Rep. Jim Moran, D-Va., recently introduced the Traveling Exotic Animal Protection Act, aiming to end the "inhumane" treatment of animals for entertainment across the country.

"The world is going this way," Ralston said. "How come Hawaii hasn’t learned from its mistakes? It happened right in our front yard. Something’s got to change."

Hirano, the circus promoter, died in 2003 at the age of 57, less than two months after learning he had pancreatic cancer.

Despite being attacked by Tyke, Hirano fought to keep the circus coming to Honolulu. He called the incident a fluke and testified against a City Council bill to prohibit exotic animals from traveling exhibits, parades or circuses.

To remember his encounter with the enraged pachyderm, Hirano collected elephant mementos, such as figurines, pictures and photos.

Elsewhere, Tyke’s death inspired action — not the least of which was the 1995 creation of the Elephant Sanctuary in Hohenwald, Tenn., the world’s largest elephant sanctuary that would eventually grow to 2,700 acres.

In recent years the legacy of Tyke persisted. In 2012, Leeward Community College Lab Theater staged "Tyke Dreams of Plumeria Stars," while last year author K.A. Monroe published the children’s book "Tyke and the Elephant Angel."

A documentary, "Tyke: Elephant Outlaw," by Australian filmmakers Susan Lambert and Stefan Moore, is expected to appear at film festivals around the world after it’s finished in February, Moore said. According to a description of the film, "the incident traumatized a city and raised profound questions about our relationship to other species."

After their close call at the Blaisdell, the Guncheons climbed into their car and drove home, upset and rattled.

Guncheon called a talk radio station to unload his story, but they didn’t believe him.

"I’m sure I sounded hysterical," he said.

For the next couple of years he had trouble making decisions, which, he said, is bad for a designer who has to make lots of them. Guncheon couldn’t hold a job, either.

He and his wife filed suit against the city and the circus owner, after which Guncheon was deposed by an attorney for a grueling eight hours. Terms of the settlement could not be disclosed, but Guncheon volunteered that the suit wasn’t worth it.

"In retrospect, I wouldn’t do it again," he said.

His wife eventually filed for divorce and, in doing so, put some of the blame on the Tyke incident, which Guncheon denies.

There was a period in his life when Guncheon refused to dwell on the Tyke episode. But today — two decades later — he finds himself thinking about it again.

"It was pretty horrible."