
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, November 6, 1994                   TAG: 9411090023
SECTION: EDITORIAL                    PAGE: B-3   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: GLENN M. AYERS
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Long

HOKIES? HOKIES?

WHATEVER has become of the Gobblers? Specifically, now that its football team has brought Virginia Tech to national prominence, what has become of its best metaphoric manifestation, the mascot that no less an American than Benjamin Franklin once proposed for national prominence? The Fighting Gobbler has essentially disappeared from the Blacksburg scene, seemingly replaced by a ludicrous fowl patrolling the sidelines, called the "Hokie Bird."

Which raises another point. What kind of images does the word "Hokie" evoke? There are three.

First, there is the definition given by the man who coined it. He claimed it was just a word invented for part of the cheer that won the contest for a new Tech yell. Apparently, it had no meaning beyond whatever lyric flight is found in "Hokie, Hokie, Hokie, Hi!"

Second, there is the newest American Heritage Dictionary definition of "hokey," which those who have never seen the word written assume it means: "corny, mawkish, artificial."

Finally, there is the very personal, colloquial usage fellow students gave it when I was at Tech. It went like this: "Professor so-and-so's class was a 'pain in the old hokie'," or, following some overwhelming athletic loss, "They kicked our hokies!" A stand-by usage when stood up by a girl was to say, "She handed me my hokie."

So, there it is. "Hokie" is functional as a cheer (or the only part of "Tech Triumph" that fans know), but beyond that the word is (l) an empty vessel; (2) a petard for UVa to hoist us by; (3) a mildly obscene term.

But to return: What happened to "Gobbler"? One explanation is that with the rise of women's athletics, the symbol was inappropriate, as there are no female gobblers. That argument, however, is really a non sequitur. After all, "Cavaliers" are defined as "gentlemen who escort ladies," and while it may be supposed women have posed as such, just as Deborah Sampson and Molly Pitcher passed themselves off among "Minutemen," there cannot be distaff "Rams," "Cowboys," "Stallions" or "Gamecocks." And though my mother-in-law attended Texas Christian University, I never called her a "Horned Frog."

Some contend that because a gobbler is a turkey, it creates a weak, silly image that no longer suits the Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University. If a look at the Hokie Bird doesn't quell that reasoning, then consider the character of the true fighting gobbler. Franklin felt it such a noble bird, uniquely embodying the American spirit, that he proposed it as the national icon. He was distressed at the choice of the bald eagle in its stead.

"Tech's Tough Old Bird" is how it reads on a button disused in my drawer for years, and in the wild they are just that. Strong, savvy and adaptable, they warily avoid all but the most skillful of pursuers. Born to survive, they are scarcely fledgling, emerging from their shells on the wing. Pro golfer Sam Snead, an avid turkey hunter, says, "Most gobblers die of old age."

In the 1940s, Tech cheerleaders kept a live gobbler on the sidelines. He was always a point of interest to the spectators, much as Auburn's War Eagle is today. During timeouts and quarter breaks, he would puff up and strut, now and then going for the linesman, much to the crowd's delight. Of course, the Hokie Bird pulls such shenanigans today, but since it is not really from the animal kingdom, the antics seem contrived. Incidentally, "contrived" is another American Heritage Dictionary definition of "hokie" (oops, "hokey" ).

Perhaps the public conscience nurtured by animal-rights activism forbids using live mascots. I don't see a real ram at Chapel Hill anymore, and VMI's kangaroo is long gone. I'd settle for just the word and the visual image again, for though the "gobble" still accompanies the cannon blast when Tech scores, its relevance is steadily eroding. More and more new fans turn and say, "What's that noise?" Soon they may think it the cry of the Hokie Bird.

There should be nothing wrong with a live gobbler on the field again. He would enjoy a far better and more humane life than his fellows stuffed in the Southeastern feeding pens waiting execution should they avoid death by suffocation and heat.

A bird fancier I know impressed me once by citing the incredible difference between the kind of turkey the Pilgrims knew, and the docile, stupid butterball version bred down for white meat. It is probably going too far to draw this analogy between Gobblers and Hokies. Matter of fact, it is most likely the strained reasoning of what the late Red Smith says happens when grown men spend too much time contemplating the games children play.

There seems an inherent danger in setting so much store on an intangible with no history, or as little history as "Hokie" has. Other schools use two images without losing identity: Cavaliers and Wahoos, Rams and Tar Heels, Bulldogs and Elis.

Furthermore, those with intangible symbols have at least visual essence. One can see in the mind's eye a Crimson Tide or a Golden Hurricane. But never a Hokie.

Where's Ogden Nash when we need him? He would state this whole idea in one aphoristic couplet:

Remember, boy, long as you live,

Gobbler is not an adjective.

Glenn M. Ayers teaches at Staunton River High School in Bedford County.

by CNB