I am a proud Longhorn and a Life Member of The Texas Exes. This weekend, my daughter, a high school senior, is in Austin for the Texas Select Summit, the university’s premier event for recruiting the best and brightest students from across the country. UT invites these top recruits to the Forty Acres to see, firsthand, that they don’t have to choose between academic excellence and the vibrant, unapologetically Texan spirit that defines Austin. The goal is simple: to convince them that the University of Texas offers everything the Ivy League promises, and much more.
For those who haven’t experienced it, UT isn’t just a university; it’s a living legend built on tradition, pride, and community. Every part of campus hums with the energy of generations who came before, each adding a chapter to the Texas story. And like any great story, it begins with a symbol, a simple hand sign that became a cultural icon.
In 1955, Harley Clark, then head cheerleader, introduced the now-famous “Hook ’em Horns” gesture at a pep rally before a football game against TCU. Inspired by the shape of a Longhorn’s head, Clark and his friend H.K. Pitts conceived the idea the night before, practicing it in the glow of a dorm lamp. When Clark raised his hand at Gregory Gym and declared it the official sign of the university, students erupted with pride. By the next day, thousands were flashing the sign at the game. Nearly seventy years later, it remains one of the most recognizable symbols in all of college sports, a unifying gesture that transcends time and distance.
So powerful is this gesture that in 2017, Gene Simmons of KISS tried to trademark it for himself, claiming it as the “rock ’n’ roll” sign. The Longhorn faithful, along with most of the civilized world, laughed him out of the Patent Office. The University of Texas reminded him, politely but firmly, that Hook ’em Horns belonged to Austin long before KISS picked up their guitars. Simmons eventually withdrew his application, but not before reminding everyone that Texas traditions don’t just endure, they prevail.
Then there’s the Tower. The University of Texas Tower, completed in 1937, stands as both a literal and figurative beacon of achievement. By day it watches over the Forty Acres; by night, it glows with meaning. In everyday times it shines white, but when Texas wins, in athletics, in academics, in anything worthy of celebration, the Tower turns to a deep, triumphant burnt orange. And when the Longhorns claim a national championship, the Tower proudly displays a glowing number one in its windows. It’s one of the most breathtaking sights in college tradition, a symbol of unity, victory, and the relentless pursuit of excellence.
Equally iconic is Bevo, the university’s live mascot and one of the most beloved symbols in all of American sports. The first Bevo made his debut in 1916, a gift from alumni who collected $1 donations to buy a Longhorn steer for the team. The name appeared in print the same year in UT’s alumni magazine, but that didn’t stop rival Texas A&M from trying to take credit. According to Aggie lore, they branded the steer with “13––0” after a victory, and UT students supposedly altered the numbers to spell BEVO. It’s a good story, but false. Records prove the name Bevo was already in use months before the prank. (The Aggies, however, did get their comeuppance: the branded hide was later returned to them, served at a banquet.)
The name likely came from “beeve,” a cowboy term for beef, with a bit of Texan flair added by tacking on an “o.” Today, the fifteenth Bevo carries the torch, a 1,700-pound embodiment of the strength and pride of Texas. He’s attended national championships, Presidential inaugurations, and countless football games, always stealing the show. To see him trot onto the field, flanked by his student handlers, while 100,000 fans roar “Hook ’em”, that’s the kind of moment that etches itself into memory.
Those student handlers are the Silver Spurs, an elite group founded in 1937. They serve as Bevo’s caretakers and ambassadors, responsible for his well-being both on and off the field. Their service goes beyond game days; the Spurs also run the BEVO Endowment and lead community programs like the Neighborhood Longhorns Program, which mentors local students. In every sense, they personify the university’s motto: “What starts here changes the world.”
Balancing the Spurs are the Texas Cowboys, a storied student organization founded in 1922. You can spot them in their black hats and burnt-orange bandanas, standing tall beside Smokey the Cannon, the mechanical heart of game day in Austin. Built in 1953 by UT’s engineering department, Smokey was Texas’s answer to Oklahoma’s shotgun blasts during the Red River Rivalry. The Cowboys fire it after every touchdown, every field goal, every quarter, and, of course, every victory. Its thunder echoes through the stadium, rattling the stands and thrilling generations of fans. The Cowboys also lead service projects and keep the university’s spirit traditions alive, bridging the past and present in true Longhorn fashion.
Taken together, these traditions aren’t just fun. They represent something much deeper, a culture of unity, excellence, and pride that shapes everyone who passes through UT’s halls. Each tradition tells a story: of students dreaming big, of Texans standing tall, of a university that believes greatness isn’t inherited, it’s earned.
For my daughter and her peers visiting this weekend, the Texas Select Summit offers more than a campus tour. It’s an invitation to join a family, to be part of a heritage that fuses intellect and identity. Austin isn’t just a city, it’s a way of thinking. It embraces the future while honoring the past. It produces Nobel laureates, governors, scientists, and artists, but it also nurtures character, humility, and grit. At UT, students learn that achievement means little without purpose, and tradition means little without heart.
I hope my daughter feels that when she walks across the Main Mall, when she sees the Tower lit in orange, when she hears Smokey roar or spots Bevo on the field. I hope she senses that deep connection between history and hope, between excellence and belonging. And I hope that, like generations of Longhorns before her, she chooses to stay in Texas, not because it’s easy, but because it’s home.
The University of Texas is more than a school. It’s a proving ground for leaders, a celebration of spirit, and a monument to what it means to be Texan. To every student considering where to plant their flag: come to Austin. Join the tradition. Hook ’em Horns.
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Bravo TX