Tribe debate sizzles on campus
Dave Fairbank
August 23 2005
In that incubator for radicals and educated malcontents tucked into the colonial capital, otherwise known as the College of William and Mary, there is a buzz of activity - and not just because parking spaces are as valued as a final-grade mulligan.
The school has a new president for the first time in a dozen years, law professor and former college quarterback Gene Nichol. There is construction galore: new dorms and renovations and a parking deck.
On the fun and games side, the school spent $750,000 for a permanent hardwood floor in William and Mary Hall.
They dug up the old track at Zable Stadium, in preparation for laying down a new one next spring. Despite appearances, they swear the old ballyard will be ready in time for the football home opener in 31/2 weeks.
New soccer and lacrosse practice fields near the Dillard dorm complex are almost complete, and the installation of permanent lights at Zable awaits only state approval.
But the most intriguing athletic issue on campus these days has nothing to do with fields and buildings, and everything to do with perception.
William and Mary is in the process of assembling a report to the NCAA about its nickname - Tribe - and why it should not be judged “hostile and abusive” to Native-Americans.
Thirty-two of the 33 NCAA member schools with Native-American nicknames and mascots recently learned if they were acceptable. W&M received an extension because it was between administrations.
Any school that produced four U.S. presidents and that was judged “hottest small state school” by Newsweek needs no outside help to argue its case, but part of its report will go something like this:
“Tribe” is about as innocuous a reference to Native-Americans as it gets. The closest thing to a mascot the school has is a green, fuzzy creature called Colonel Ebirt (“Tribe” spelled backwards), who obviously was named on a day when all the clever kids slept late.
Area Indian tribes have not protested the school nickname as hostile or insensitive. The only visible Native-American references are a couple of green-and-gold feathers on the school logo.
In the rare instances when inclined, William and Mary fans perform maybe the nation’s most pitiful, half-hearted “Tomahawk Chop.”
Naturally, all of this guarantees that the NCAA will deem “Tribe” hostile and abusive. Thus, the school will be denied the chance to host postseason competitions. It must cover or alter offending logos, and athletic director Terry Driscoll will have to pay full retail at the NCAA store in Indianapolis.
William and Mary’s nickname predicament may be blamed on a former student. W&M athletic teams originally were known as the Orange and White, and later the Orange and Black, after the school colors, according to the book, Goal to Goal, a history of W&M football.
In 1916, a student named William Durham Harris, who was editor of both the campus paper, The Flat Hat, and the literary magazine, suggested calling the teams the “Indians,” after the Indian school that was housed in one of the original campus buildings during colonial times.
For decades, W&M had mascots dressed in Native-American costumes and had a cartoon Indian as its logo. The school gradually did away with those images.
Under former athletic director Jim Copeland (1981-85), William and Mary began to shift the nickname from “Indians” to “Tribe.”
“We did it more for marketing than for political correctness,” Copeland said recently from his office at SMU, where he has been athletic director for a decade. “We thought that ‘Tribe’ had a better feel to it, in terms of our teams and team concept.”
Under Copeland’s successor, the late John Randolph, the athletic department completed the shift to “Tribe” in the mid-1980s.
W&M officials will present their report by Nov. 1 and await the NCAA’s verdict - expected early this winter - before responding.
The NCAA allows that schools’ nicknames and mascots are their own business, but believes it has the right, as well as the obligation, to administer postseason competition not only fairly but sensitively.
Problem is, sensitivity can no more be legislated than can compassion or charitable contributions. Absent the truly offensive or legitimately aggrieved, most action appears to be needless meddling.
The thickness of the NCAA rule book is a testament to which way the NCAA leans on that notion.