Tigers: "old New Jersey in that far-off jungle land"

I hope the subtext from previously-quoted tidbits like the cherubim iconography and the Grotesque Tour of Princeton Campus and is clear: these people are nuts. And from the long-standing "what are they" question below -- that it's a stylish nuts.

But in this vein aside from the tiger-siss-boom-ahh! I think I've not justified my seeing tigers everywhere. So let me tell you about these people and their tigers. They have tigers everywhere. Most of the following I shot just while I was out taking pictures for the statues of the previous post.

(Now that I've figured this thing out, every picture is a thumbnail. The large versions vary a lot in size; only three are over 400kb, most of the rest under 200kb. Not that it matters with every single person in North America having broadband. But scroll down, because I still don't know why there's white space in front of my tables.)

	They have roaring tiger gargoyles, stone fixtures silently challenging passers-by give up the watchword.
	There are many of them on this building, interspersed with more traditional undead-goat motifs.
	Naturally it would be tedious to see the same face everywhere, so they have stylised mutant tigers, too. Or maybe this one is a man with a tiger mask; the structure of the jaw looks a little unclear and there's something suggestive about the eyes. There are a few other types, too.
	They don't have tiger door-knockers, just for the obvious reasons, but they make up for by putting overtop of a door a relief of tiger with ring hanging from snarling jaws. Or, say, more than one door. Note the whiskers on this guy.
	Here's a slightly more traditional-looking relief: just some mighty animals sitting next to a shield, a classical chivalric tableau. Apparently I wasn't standing flush when I took some of these. Shameful.
	Or, for the stalwart conservatives on campus, a yet-more-traditional rendering, complete with Latin 'motto' (VET NOV TESTAMENTUM, "new and old testament"). But what are those bizarrely contorted, ephemeral figures growing from the back? Someone tells me monkeys, and a shower of leaves. This is the most surreal tiger carving I've seen, although I've heard about one with a tiger and two cannon (!).
	Before we move on, the mother of all tiger gargoyles. This one hangs near the 'footballer' gargoyle seen here previously.
	Of course they have large bronze statues, too. These are Bengal tigers, male and female, 133% actual size. Guess how I found that out. Yeah, that's right.
	"All right," you say to me. "So they've got a few little stone trinkets and a statue or two and they cooked up some informational brochures on the subject. That a fixation does not make! -- no, not even the creepy anthropomorphic one." Fair enough. Let's move onto Exhibit B:
	This highly creepy metal statue stands taller than I. It was installed just a few years ago, at the north entrance of the stadium, shortly before a big game, I guess, demonstrating the longevity and potency of the fad.
	By the way, while we're here, you may recall that the stadium is adjacent to the math building. (As in, fifty-second-walk entrance-to-entrance adjacent.) I'm sure you know what I was thinking when I heard that there were actually huge metal tigers next to a building next to Fine Hall -- so also what treatment I had in mind for these thrice-blasted (not enough times, apparently) trees in my way.
	Moving on, to Exhibit C, we have one of the exhibits in the Frist Campus Center, a social hub: the skeleton of a Bengal tiger, eternally pouncing. Below it is a little statue of an actual bengal. And to the right?
	Showing their fine sense of history, they also obtained the skeleton of a sabre-tooth tiger. Below it, too, another statue showing what (they think) the tiger actually looked like. Never mind the apparently lack of connection; let's take a gander at that dedication plate.
	Right -- so that's the guy who made the statues. And below it, they have taken the opportunity afforded by this juxtaposition to summarise a few of the contrasting features between the Bengal and the extinct sabre-toothed tiger Smilodon.
	I sense the point is about made, so we'll finish this little tour with a phenomenon which I think speaks quite eloquently for itself. The store was closed at this point, so I don't actually know what this book is about.

Yes, the last few pictures were taken separately from the others, at night-time. Yesterday I was organising my tiger photos and thinking it was a shame that I didn't have a picture of those skeletons to 'seal the deal', as it were; when I came across them originally I didn't have my camera on me. It was about 8 o'clock and I was feeling vexed up until I realised that it is not a fifteen minute walk to get there. Suddenly I felt an incredible thrill, and infused with a giddy anticipation at brazenly flouting the most basic habits of my youth I immediately gathered my bag and umbrella. Then I realised I should put on a warmer shirt, since it is getting a little nippy these days.

Finally, I should share this little passage I came across, which sheds a small amount of light on the subject of last entry's mystery.

Blair Hall (1897), the first Gothic dormitory built on campus [there was a decision around this time to adopt Gothic architecture for future buildings --BKF], was given by and named for University trustee John Insley Blair. It was designed by Walter Cope and John Stewardson.... Between Blair and Little is a gateway planned by the architects, linking the two halls. The Daily Princetonian told its readers in September 1899, "The tigers, four feet in height, which will besurmount the posts of the gateway between Blair and Little, will be the finest pieces of carving connected with the building." These two bellowing stone beasts, installed in 1902, were the first free-standing tigers to appear on campus. They sit up facing west, propping up shields, each atop its own gatepost.

So, it seems we now besurmount our quandry.

Before we sign off, one last item I can hardly resist. Since there are no references to New Jersey in the extant literature, and certainly not as the jungle it clearly is not, you may guess something about the titular quotation. Yes, here it is, from the "can't-make-this-up" file, the Princeton Jungle March:

Way down in old New Jersey in that far-off jungle land,
There lives a Princeton Tiger, who will tat right off your hand.
But when he gets in battle with the other beasts of prey,
He frightens them almost to death, in this particular way:
Wow... Hear the Tiger roar. Wow... rolling up a score.
Wow. Better move along, when you hear the Tiger sing his jungle song.

(Kenneth S. Clarke, '05, Carmina Princetonia centennial ed.)

Particularly peculiar.