Several people have commented on Eugenia Summer’s story about getting a jukebox at Mississippi State College for Women. They are usually people who remember attending the college in those years, as I do. I thought, well, I, too, have a W story; and maybe I ought to tell it, although it does not reflect very well on me.
For a couple of years when I was a W student, there had been conversations about the school’s not having a mascot. Finally, during my senior year, when I was editor of the student newspaper, The Spectator, the staff decided to conduct a contest in the student body to select a school mascot.
At that time, because we were still named MSCW, we irreverently called it “Messy W.” In the search for a mascot, the name morphed into “Missy W,” which made sense for a women’s college.
We asked for help from the Art Department. Students there submitted large poster-sized cartoons of candidates, all of them animals in this case. The posters were presented at one of the required chapel programs while ballots were distributed to the audience. When our staff counted the ballots, a cute little cocker spaniel won by a landslide.
We were working on “the big story” in the Spec office the afternoon of the election, when we were visited by a disturbed student “committee.” They said they would have been embarrassed to have mentioned their concern during the public chapel program, but did we realize what our mascot would be called if we elected the dog — which we had.
I think I looked at them blankly. They preceded to spell it out for me. “Do you realize what people, especially the fellas at State, would call it?”
Another blank stare.
“A female dog? A bitch? We would be a campus of bitches!”
My mouth dropped open. I immediately saw their point. What to do?
The weekly paper came out on Wednesdays. We had one day to make deadline if we were to change anything. There would be no more student convocations in time, so how could we do it, anyway?
Still, in those days of prudence, if not prudery, we knew we had to figure out how to poll the students. Dormitories sometimes had house meetings at 10 p.m. We requested campus-wide house meetings that night and sent a staff member to each dormitory to explain the concern and give students a chance to reconsider, if they wished, and revote. The town students, of which I was one, would be left out. We checked on how many there were. Luckily, there were not enough town students to be a swing vote, so we did not feel guilty about omitting them.
Results of the poll dethroned the cocker spaniel and elected a little deer who became known as “Missy Dear.”
In spite of the bad start, Missy Dear was a popular mascot. Someone — from Macon, I think — brought a little fawn to campus. It stayed in a fenced yard behind Columbus and Hastings Halls. People came by to pet it, which it seemed to enjoy. The college bookstore ordered little yellow and white (MSCW’s colors) stuffed deer. The first two were presented to Frances Ann Ellis, who drew the deer, and to me, representing the sponsoring newspaper. I still have mine. My children played with it.
Changing times
When the college became Mississippi University for Women and after men were admitted, the mascot was changed to an owl, which of course saddened me.
Looking back on it, I think the whole incident might have been “much ado about nothing.” Now many schools just add “Lady” in front of their women’s athletic teams. A nearby example is Mississippi State’s “Lady Dawgs.” No bitches there.
Ole Miss has not changed their teams to “She-Bears.” In fact, they have not embraced “Black Bears” either, if you can believe the sports writers, who still refer to the “Rebels.” I think that is just fine, because I knew the Ole Miss yearbook editor, Walter Bullock, who devised the Colonel Rebel mascot. There was never any racial insult intended. Only perceived.
My son-in-law, Vaughan, told me about one high school athletic team he observed. They called the girls the “Lady Bulls.” Now there’s an oxymoron for you. Has education slipped so much that students — or administrators — don’t know the difference?
Betty Boyls Stone is a freelance writer, who grew up in Columbus.
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.
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