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Jayhawks, Hoyas & Owls (Oh My!): How 21 Schools Got Their Nicknames

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March Madness starts today, which means you're going to be tossing team nicknames around like crazy for the next few weeks. Do you know where these mascots came from, though? What the heck is a Hoya? Would you know a Gaucho if you saw one? Let's take a look at the origins of some of the tournament teams' mascots.

1. Georgetown Hoyas
The origins of the Hoya nickname are a bit murky, but the school thinks it originated in the 1890s. Students created a mixed Greek and Latin cheer of "Hoya Saxa!" (which translates into "What Rocks!") to inspire either the school's baseball or football teams. By 1920, "Hoya" had become a popular saying on campus, and by 1928 the nickname was firmly stuck to the school's teams.

Georgetown's original dog mascot, a pit bull named Stubby, actually fought in World War I before becoming associated with the school. He earned a promotion to sergeant by capturing an enemy spy and later delighted Georgetown crowds by pushing a football around the field at halftime.

2. Temple Owls
When Temple was founded in 1884, it was a night school, so people jokingly referred to its students as "night owls." When the school started fielding teams, it was only natural to call them the Owls.

3. Ohio State Buckeyes
A buckeye is a small, dark brown nut with a light brown patch on it. Carrying a buckeye is supposedly good luck; some superstitious people (like me) won't leave the house without one in their pocket. The buckeye tree is Ohio's state tree, and Ohio residents have been referred to as Buckeyes since 1788. Hence, the Ohio State Buckeyes.

4. UCSB Gauchos

UCSB-MascotUC Santa Barbara's teams call themselves the Gauchos, a term that's broadly applied to residents of South America's grasslands. It loosely translates into "cowboy," which explains why UCSB's logo includes the school's initials and a dark face glowering beneath an Argentine cowboy hat. [Image courtesy of CSTV.]

5. Kansas Jayhawks
According to the school's website, the mythical jayhawk is a combination of two birds: the belligerent blue jay and the quiet, deadly sparrow hawk. During the 1850s, there was a lot of violence regarding whether or not Kansas would enter the union as a free or slave state, and the militant free staters eventually became known as Jayhawkers. The fictitious bird eventually became a symbol of Kansas' commitment to freedom, and in 1912 a student drew a depiction of the bird. The bird wore shoes so it could kick opponents.

6. Purdue Boilermakers
In 1891, Purdue's football rivalry with Wabash was thriving. Purdue's team took a trip to Crawfordsville and thumped Wabash 44-0. The next day the local paper in Crawfordsville depicted the Purdue squad as conquering bullies and ran the headline: "Slauther of Innocents: Wabash Snowed Completely Under by the Burly Boiler Makers from Purdue." Instead of being offended, Purdue's teams ran with the nickname.

robert-morris-mascot
7. Robert Morris Colonials
This one's not too tough; financier Robert Morris was a bigshot during colonial times. Morris signed the Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation, and the Constitution, and he helped finance the American side during the Revolutionary War. [Image courtesy of Flickr user dietzy2320.]

8. Cornell Big Red
In 1905, Cornell alum Romeyn Berry was trying to write a fight song, but he hit a snag. The school didn't have a mascot for him to reference. To solve this problem, he called Cornell "the big red team," and eventually fans just started calling their squads the Big Red.

9. East Tennessee State Buccaneers
The Buccaneer is a fine mascot for a coastal school, but ETSU is decidedly landlocked. What gives? According to the university's website, a series of subterranean rivers runs through tunnels in the mountains near the school's campus. According to legend these waterways, known as Pirate Creek, were once home to pirate Jean Paul LeBucque, who had fled from the coast to hide his treasure. Thus, an inland school has a pirate mascot.

10. Tennessee Volunteers
This one comes from Tennessee's nickname, the Volunteer State. During the War of 1812, President Madison asked Andrew Jackson to find 1500 fellow Tennesseans to voluntarily help him fight the British at the Battle of New Orleans. Later, during the Mexican War, Tennessee's governor put out a call for 2800 men to help battle Santa Anna, but 30,000 volunteers showed up. All of this voluntary participation earned the state, and later its biggest college, a nickname.

wake-forest.jpg11. Wake Forest Demon Deacons
Wake's teams originally called themselves the Tigers, but that name didn't stick. People started referring to the squads as "the Baptists" due to the school's religious affiliation, and when the football team beat archrival Trinity (which would later become Duke) in 1923, student newspaper editor Mayon Parker dubbed them the "Demon Deacons" to honor both their Baptist affiliations and "devilish" play.

12. North Texas Mean Green
The vicious play of football star "Mean" Joe Greene may have given rise to the school's current moniker. According to one story touted by the university, Sidney Sue Graham, the wife of sports information director Fred Graham, called Greene "mean" following a brutal tackle during his late-1960's career at the school. She then began calling the entire smothering defensive unit the "Mean Green," and although Graham initially dismissed his wife's newly coined phrase, he eventually used it in a press release that caught on with reporters.

13. Notre Dame Fighting Irish
There's some debate about how the Fighting Irish nickname affixed itself to Notre Dame. Some people say the media started calling the teams the Fighting Irish because the Catholic school's teams played with the ferocity and grit people associate with the Irish.

Others say the nickname came from the Union Army's Irish Brigade, while yet another story claims the name was born at an 1899 away football game at Northwestern where the home crowd chanted "Kill the Fighting Irish!"

14. California Golden Bears
In 1895 Cal's powerhouse track team went on the road to challenge top college powers back East in a series of meets. Arthur Rodgers, a university regent, commissioned a blue banner decorated with a gold grizzly bear for the team to carry on its journey. The team kicked some serious tail, and a nickname was born.

15. Sam Houston State Bearkats
This odd spelling has been around since the school abandoned its previous nickname, the Normals, in 1923. According to SHSU, the name probably doesn't refer to any sort of animal; instead, it reflects a popular 1920s saying on campus, "Tough as a Bearkat!"

blue-blob-xavier16. Xavier Musketeers
Xavier actually has two mascots. D'Artagnan the Musketeer has been around since 1925; the idea of using a French musketeer came about because the school had strong ties to French culture in its early days. The other mascot, the Blue Blob, has a more mysterious back-story. The school may have developed the Blue Blob because the heavily armed D'Artagnan terrified small children, but others claim that the school won the Blue Blob as part of a Skyline Chili promotion in the 1980s.

17. New Mexico Lobos
According to the school, it picked the Spanish word for "wolf" as its nickname in 1920. The school paper wrote, "The Lobo is respected for his cunning, feared for his prowess, and is the leader of the pack. It is the ideal name for the Varsity boys who go forth to battle for the glory of the school. All together now; fifteen rahs for the LOBOS."

18. UTEP Miners
This one's pretty straightforward. When the school was founded in 1914 it was known as the Texas State School of Mines and Metallurgy. It later became Texas Western and then UTEP, but the mining heritage hangs around in the school's mascot.

19. Vermont Catamounts
Vermont got its Catamount nickname through a democratic vote. In 1926 the student newspaper UVM Cynic ran a poll asking students to vote for the wildcat or lynx as the school's mascot. The response was tepid at best, so the paper gave it another try later in the school year. This time the options were the camels, tomcats, cows, or catamounts. "The Catamounts" took the day by grabbing 138 votes to the other options' combined 126.

20. Murray State Racers
Murray State's teams were originally known as the Thoroughbreds in a nod to Kentucky's racing tradition, but newspaper editors had trouble cramming such a long word into headlines. Eventually they started shortening it to "Racers" to save space, and in 1961 the school officially changed its nickname to the shorter version.

21. Minnesota Golden Gophers
According to the school's website, Minnesota has been known as "the Gopher State" since an 1857 cartoon depicted local politicians as gophers pulling a locomotive. Thus, the school's teams eventually became the Gophers. The "golden" part came later. In the 1930s the football team wore gold jerseys and gold pants, so a radio announcer started calling them the "Golden Gophers."

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12 Surprising Facts About Bela Lugosi
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On October 20, 1882—135 years ago today—one of the world's most gifted performers was born. In his heyday, Bela Lugosi was hailed as the undisputed king of horror. Eighty-five years after he first donned a vampire’s cape, Lugosi's take on Count Dracula is still widely hailed as the definitive portrayal of the legendary fiend. But who was the man behind the monster?

1. HE WORKED WITH THE NATIONAL THEATER OF HUNGARY.

To the chagrin of his biographers, the details concerning Bela Lugosi’s youth have been clouded in mystery. (In a 1929 interview, he straight-up admitted “for purposes of simplification, I have always thought it better to tell [lies] about the early years of my life.”) That said, we do know that he was born as Béla Ferenc Dezső Blaskó on October 20, 1882 in Lugoj, Hungary (now part of Romania). We also know that his professional stage debut came at some point in either 1901 or 1902. By 1903, Lugosi had begun to find steady work with traveling theater companies, through which he took part in operas, operettas, and stage plays. In 1913, Lugosi caught a major break when the most prestigious performing arts venue in his native country—the Budapest-based National Theater of Hungary—cast him in no less than 34 shows. Most of the characters that he played there were small Shakespearean roles such as Rosencrantz in Hamlet and Sir Walter Herbert in Richard III.

2. HE FOUGHT IN WORLD WAR I.

The so-called war to end all wars put Lugosi’s dramatic aspirations on hold. Although being a member of the National Theater exempted him from military service, he voluntarily enlisted in the Austro-Hungarian Army in 1914. Over the next year and a half, he fought against Russian forces as a lieutenant with the 43rd Royal Hungarian Infantry. While serving in the Carpathian mountains, Lugosi was wounded on three separate occasions. Upon healing from his injuries, he left the armed forces in 1916 and gratefully resumed his work with the National Theater.

3. WHEN HE MADE HIS BROADWAY DEBUT, LUGOSI BARELY KNEW ANY ENGLISH.

In December 1920, Lugosi boarded a cargo boat and emigrated to the United States. Two years later, audiences on the Great White Way got their first look at this charismatic stage veteran. Lugosi was cast as Fernando—a suave, Latin lover—in the 1922 Broadway stage play The Red Poppy. At the time, his grasp of the English language was practically nonexistent. Undaunted, Lugosi went over all of his lines with a tutor. Although he couldn’t comprehend their meaning, the actor managed to memorize and phonetically reproduce every single syllable that he was supposed to deliver on stage.

4. UNIVERSAL DIDN’T WANT TO CAST HIM AS COUNT DRACULA.

The year 1927 saw Bela Lugosi sink his teeth into the role of a lifetime. A play based on the novel Dracula by Bram Stoker had opened in London in 1924. Sensing its potential, Horace Liveright, an American producer, decided to create an U.S. version of the show. Over the summer of 1927, Lugosi was cast as the blood-sucking Count Dracula. For him, the part represented a real challenge. In Lugosi’s own words, “It was a complete change from the usual romantic characters I was playing, but it was a success.” It certainly was. Enhanced by his presence, the American Dracula remained on Broadway for a full year, then spent two years touring the country.

Impressed by its box office prowess, Universal decided to adapt the show into a major motion picture in 1930. Horror fans might be surprised to learn that when the studio began the process of casting this movie’s vampiric villain, Lugosi was not their first choice. At the time, Lugosi was still a relative unknown, which made director Tod Browning more than a little hesitant to offer him the job. A number of established actors were all considered before the man who’d played Dracula on Broadway was tapped to immortalize his biting performance on film.

5. MOST OF HIS DRACULA-RELATED FAN MAIL CAME FROM WOMEN.

The recent Twilight phenomenon is not without historical precedent. Lugosi estimated that, while he was playing the Count on Broadway, more than 97 percent of the fan letters he received were penned by female admirers. A 1932 Universal press book quotes him as saying, “When I was on the stage in Dracula, my audiences were composed mostly of women.” Moreover, Lugosi contended that most of the men who’d attended his show had merely been dragged there by female companions.   

6. HE TURNED DOWN THE ROLE OF FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER.

Released in 1931, Dracula quickly became one of the year's biggest hits for Universal (some film historians even argue that the movie single-handedly rescued the ailing studio from bankruptcy). Furthermore, its astronomical success transformed Lugosi into a household name for the first time in his career. Regrettably for him, though, he’d soon miss the chance to star in another smash. Pleased by Dracula’s box office showing, Universal green-lit a new cinematic adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Lugosi seemed like the natural choice to play the monster, but because the poor brute had few lines and would be caked in layers of thick makeup, the actor rejected the job offer. As far as Lugosi was concerned, the character was better suited for some “half-wit extra” than a serious actor. Once the superstar tossed Frankenstein aside, the part was given to a little-known actor named Boris Karloff.

Moviegoers eventually did get to see Lugosi play the bolt-necked corpse in the 1943 cult classic Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man. According to some sources, he strongly detested the guttural scream that the script forced him to emit at regular intervals. “That yell is the worst thing about the part. You feel like a big jerk every time you do it!” Lugosi allegedly complained.

7. LUGOSI’S RELATIONSHIP WITH BORIS KARLOFF WAS MORE CORDIAL THAN IT’S USUALLY MADE OUT TO BE.

It’s often reported that the two horror icons were embittered rivals. In reality, however, Karloff and Lugosi seemed to have harbored some mutual respect—and perhaps even affection for one another. The dynamic duo co-starred in five films together, the first of which was 1934’s The Black Cat; Karloff claimed that, on set, Lugosi was “Suspicious of tricks, fearful of what he regarded as scene stealing. Later on, when he realized I didn’t go in for such nonsense, we became friends.” During one of their later collaborations, Lugosi told the press “we laughed over my sad mistake and his good fortune as Frankenstein is concerned.”

That being said, Lugosi probably didn’t appreciate the fact that in every single film which featured both actors, Karloff got top billing. Also, he once privately remarked, “If it hadn’t been for Boris Karloff, I could have had a corner on the horror market.”

8. HE LOVED SOCCER.

In 1935, Lugosi was named Honorary President of the Los Angeles Soccer League. An avid fan, he was regularly seen at Loyola Stadium, where he’d occasionally kick off the first ball during games held there. Also, on top of donating funds to certain Hungarian teams, Lugosi helped finance the Los Angeles Magyar soccer club. When the team won a state championship in 1935, one newspaper wrote that the players were “headed back to Dracula’s castle with the state cup.” [PDF]

9. HE WAS A HARDCORE STAMP COLLECTOR.

Lugosi's fourth wife, Lillian Arch, claimed that Lugosi maintained a collection of more than 150,000 stamps. Once, on a 1944 trip to Boston, he told the press that he intended to visit all 18 of the city's resident philately dealers. “Stamp collecting,” Lugosi declared, “is a hobby which may cost you as much as 10 percent of your investment. You can always sell your stamps with not more than a 10 percent loss. Sometimes, you can even make money.” Fittingly enough, the image of Lugosi’s iconic Dracula appeared on a commemorative stamp issued by the post office in 1997.

10. LUGOSI ALMOST DIDN’T APPEAR IN ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN—BECAUSE THE STUDIO THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD.

The role of Count Dracula in this 1948 blockbuster was nearly given to Ian Keith—who was considered for the same role in the 1931 Dracula movie. Being a good sport, Lugosi helped promote the horror-comedy by making a special guest appearance on The Abbott and Costello Show. While playing himself in one memorable sketch, the famed actor claimed to eat rattlesnake burgers for dinner and “shrouded wheat” for breakfast.

11. A CHIROPRACTOR FILLED IN FOR HIM IN PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE.

Toward the end of his life, Lugosi worked on three ultra-low-budget science fiction pictures with Ed Wood, a man who’s been posthumously embraced as the worst director of all time. In the 1953 transvestite picture Glen or Glenda?, Lugosi plays a cryptic narrator who offers such random and unsolicited bits of advice as “Beware of the big, green dragon who sits on your doorstep.” Then came 1955’s Bride of the Monster, in which Lugosi played a mad scientist who ends up doing battle with a (suspiciously limp) giant octopus.

Before long, Wood had cooked up around half a dozen concepts for new films, all starring Lugosi. At some point in the spring of 1956, the director shot some quick footage of the actor wandering around a suburban neighborhood, clad in a baggy cloak. This proved to be the last time that the star would ever appear on film. Lugosi died of a heart attack on August 16, 1956;  he was 73 years old.

Three years after Lugosi's passing, this footage was spliced into a cult classic that Wood came to regard as his “pride and joy.” Plan 9 From Outer Space tells the twisted tale of extraterrestrial environmentalists who turn newly-deceased human beings into murderous zombies. Since Lugosi could obviously no longer play his character, Wood hired a stand-in for some additional scenes. Unfortunately, the man who was given this job—California chiropractor Tom Mason—was several inches taller than Lugosi. In an attempt to hide the height difference, Wood instructed Mason to constantly hunch over. Also, Mason always kept his face hidden behind a cloak.

12. HE WAS BURIED IN HIS DRACULA CAPE.

Although Lugosi resented the years of typecasting that followed his breakout performance in Dracula, he asked to be laid to rest wearing the Count’s signature garment. Lugosi was buried under a simple tombstone at California's Holy Cross Cemetery.

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How to Carve a Pumpkin—And Not Injure Yourself in the Process
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Wielding a sharp knife with slippery hands around open flames and nearby children doesn't sound like the best idea—but that's exactly what millions of Halloween celebrations entail. While pumpkin carving is a fun tradition, it can also bring the risk of serious hand injuries. According to the American Society for Surgery of the Hand (ASSH), some wounds sustained from pumpkin misadventure can result in surgery and months of rehabilitation.

Fortunately, there are easy ways to minimize trauma. Both ASSH and CTV News have compiled safety tips for pumpkin carvers intended to reduce the chances of a trip to the emergency room.

First, it's recommended that carvers tackle their design with knives made specifically for carving. Kitchen knives are sharp and provide a poor grip when trying to puncture tough pumpkin skin: Pumpkin carving knives have slip-resistant handles and aren't quite as sharp, while kitchen knives can get wedged in, requiring force to pull them out.

Carvers should also keep the pumpkin intact while carving, cleaning out the insides later. Why? Once a pumpkin has been gutted, you’re likely to stick your free hand inside to brace it, opening yourself up to an inadvertent stab from your knife hand. When you do open it up, it's better to cut from the bottom: That way, the pumpkin can be lowered over a light source rather than risk a burn dropping one in from the top.

Most importantly, parents would be wise to never let their kids assist in carving without supervision, and should always work in a brightly-lit area. Adults should handle the knife, while children can draw patterns and scoop out innards. According to Consumer Reports, kids ages 10 to 14 tend to suffer the most Halloween-related accidents, so keeping carving duties to ages 14 and above is a safe bet.

If all else fails and your carving has gone awry, have a first aid kit handy and apply pressure to any wound to staunch bleeding. With some common sense, however, it's unlikely your Halloween celebration will turn into a blood sacrifice.

[h/t CTV News]

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