Traditions of Testudo

A university worker cleans Testudo. The statue caught on fire outside McKeldin Library early Wednesday morning.

Since 1933, Testudo has been on this campus. During the Great Depression, the class of 1933 made monetary sacrifices to see the great statue unveiled in front of Ritchie Coliseum.

Sure, people have stolen him. In 1947, students from Johns Hopkins University kidnapped poor Testudo … and then about 250 students trekked up to Hopkins to take him back. 200 Baltimore policemen intervened, and eight university students got arrested. Yeah, he’s packed on a few pounds since 1933 (700 pounds in 1965, to be more accurate). But Testudo, through thick and thin, has remained a landmark of our campus for generations. Really… generations.

Here’s a message to all those students who have disrespected Testudo over these past couple weeks: shame on you.

We’ve been leaving offerings for Testudo for over 20 years (perhaps even longer), and they’ve been nice, meaningful and sometimes humorous. In my time at this university, I’ve seen a variety of things left for our lucky friend — desperate handwritten notes, countless bottles of alcohol and even a deep fryer. But this year, we have crossed the line.

First, the light post. Now, at first, I found it funny that someone was desperate enough for a good grade that he or she somehow, potentially with the help of the Hulk, was able to drag a light post to Testudo. It was a bit much, and it definitely led to some significant damage costs, but I wasn’t bothered too much.

Next was the trash. Although there may have been some empty bottles, wrappers and bags adorning our mascot, entire bags of trash is just unacceptable. Could you really not find the dumpster right next to McKeldin Library to take your who-knows-how-long-it’s-been-sitting-around garbage? Clearly, you see Testudo as a dumping ground, not as a good luck charm. In this case, one person’s trash was not anybody’s treasure.

(Pause: whoever left the dildo, I thought that was hilarious. It’s funny and harmless — and potentially really valuable, too.)

But last night was the last straw. As I sat quietly in a classroom in the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center writing a final paper, I saw online pictures of Testudo on fire. Yes, on fire. So someone thought that it would be funny and/or helpful to light everything around the statue on fire, causing the one and only Testudo to be engulfed in flames, then to be covered in ash and surrounded by police. You thought wrong.

You owe this entire student body, past and present, an apology. Although Testudo may be just a way for you to get your 15 minutes of fame, people have made true sacrifices to make sure this statue has stayed at this university. I’m sure the class of 1933 or those eight individuals who were arrested for Testudo would have a few choice words right now. I’m sure about 97 percent of students and alumni have a few choice words for you. I, however, have no words for you. I only have disappointment. And to any university officials who are reading this, I plead to you: Do not let one misguided person destroy a generation of tradition. Do not let one arsonist’s actions speak for our campus. Because we love Testudo, and we are just as appalled as you are.