The mascot candidates were three imaginary figures—a griffin, a manticore, and a phoenix—and a gorilla. Plus, once again, “no mascot,” which came in second behind the phoenix. The ape finished last.

“A mascot for Swarthmore? Do we need one?” asked the headline on the back cover of the November 1995 issue of this magazine. Barbara Haddad Ryan ’59—then associate vice president for external affairs and head of the Alumni Office—was convinced that the answer was yes, but she was treading lightly. After all, there’s nothing Swarthmoreans do with greater relish than create a process for making a choice.

After finding some student interest in the idea, Ryan convened a committee (another specialty here) that, through a process of its own, generated a list of six potential candidates: the Swarming Earthworms, Garnet Foxes, Griffins, Wild Kangaroos, Mighty Oaks, and Little Quakers. The Bulletin called for readers (there was a concurrent campus poll) to choose from these candidates—and, to be fair, offered an opportunity to vote “no mascot.”

Sixty percent of the faculty, staff, students, parents, and alumni voted for one or another of the candidates, a result that was interpreted as majority support for the concept, if not a mandate for any of the six. The top vote getters were the Garnet Foxes and the Little Quakers. A run-off vote was advertised in the February 1996 issue of the Bulletin, and the results—announced in the May edition—were a disappointment to Ryan and her spirited group of mascot partisans. This time, nearly 60 percent voted “no mascot.” In the campus voting, anti-mascot sentiment ran about 3:1 among students. The project was quietly dropped, and we heard no mascot talk for nearly a decade.

The end of the College’s football program in 2000 might have seemed to dampen what passed for Swarthmore spirit, but within four years there was an entirely new student body that had never known a Swarthmore with football. Students formed the Garnet Club to enhance pride in their College, especially in its athletic teams. And in 2005, the club joined with members of the Student-Athlete Advisory Committee to start a new mascot campaign. Having witnessed the previous failure, I was skeptical about their chances for success.

Another process ensued, of course. More than 700 students signed a petition in support of the concept, and some 70 mascot candidates were nominated by e-mail. The students consulted the Alumni Office and got support from members of the Alumni Council. They narrowed the candidate list to four and held an electronic vote (a lot had changed in 10 years) on campus. Alumni were invited by e-mail to participate via the Internet, and at least one member of every class from 1954 to 2005 helped choose the winner. The candidates were three imaginary figures—a griffin, a manticore, and a phoenix—and a gorilla. Plus, once again, “no mascot,” which came in second behind the phoenix. The ape finished last.

So now, after 12 years of trying, we have a mascot. It’s neither a Swarming Earthworm nor a manticore (look that one up on Wikipedia!). Our new Phoenix is furry, feathery, and fun—and just a little bit ridiculous. It’s playful at a place where play sometimes comes at a premium. And I love it. I think Barbara Ryan will too.