Dick Wolfsie
It’s a question parents dread. But sooner or later, every youngster will want to know: “Where do mascots come from?”
In my travels around the Hoosier state for the new edition of my book Indiana Curiosities, I found the answer to that question from Jennifer Smith. She oughta know. She makes mascots. Like a good comedian, she does need the right material, but after that it’s all about the design and creation.
Her business, AvantGarb, is considered one of the premier mascot design creators in the country and it all happens in a workshop in The Stutz Building just north of downtown Indy. Walk inside and it’s like Santa’s Workshop, with Jennifer’s associates busy sewing, stitching and hemming. They may be making feet, painting eyes or attaching hair.
Jennifer got her start in San Francisco in 1986 where she was making costumes for local playhouses. To earn a few extra bucks, she created a giant chocolate chip cookie for a local bakery. The mascot ended up on the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle and that’s when she got this half-baked idea to focus her work on creating living, heavy-breathing (it can get hot in there) corporate identities.
She now makes mascots for companies all over the country; locally she has designed Rex of the Children’s Museum, Rowdy of the Indianapolis Indians, and JJ Jumper of the NCAA. “Companies with mascots are fun to work with. They’re family-oriented and have a sense of humor,” notes Jennifer.
Sometimes people come with a concept, sometimes she makes suggestions. In the case of the World Basketball mascot, Jennifer started with the huge nose fashioned like a globe of the earth, then built the body around it. “We did it nose-backwards,” she muses, which is a clever phrase, but I don’t think it’s going to catch on.
A successful mascot, says Jennifer, must be artfully constructed to please adults and (spoiler alert!) allow the person inside to move freely and safely during his public appearances. Eyes are important, too, adds Jennifer. “They must be able to focus on the crowd or the individual, so people observing can feel like they are interacting.” This is even true for BarfBoy, a mascot she created for a museum’s exhibition to get kids interested in the grosser aspects of the human body—like your six-year-old needs any encouragement.
Mascots are like rodeo clowns: they can have a calming effect. However, this theory has never been proven at European soccer matches.
Each mascot comes with a manual that includes both safety instructions and acting tips. “You must perform big,” says Jennifer. “Big gestures, big waves.” I hope that doesn’t go for BarfBoy. Here’s another thing that’s big. The prices. Most mascots are in the $8,000 range. And sometimes they get stolen, as happened to the Butler Bulldog recently. Most thieves are motivated by the thrill of the caper, not the money. It’s hard to find a fence for foam rubber.
Mascots last about three to five years. It gets a little hot and humid inside, so Jennifer suggests they come in for occasional cleanings. FYI, there are no coupons for this on any of the dry cleaners’ Web sites.
By the way, mascots are not just for kids or sports teams. She has produced, for example, several for pharmaceutical shows. “Who wouldn’t want their picture taken with a pancreas?” asks Jennifer. I’ll let you answer that for yourself.
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