That Auburn fans will eventually be rolling not trees at Toomer’s Corner but an “attractive intersection structure” made specifically for that purpose appears to be increasingly likely, like it or not. Here are six more examples of what rolling wires in the historic, orgiastic, Click-it-Or Ticket-less center of the Toomer’s Corner intersection looked like.

Ah, the ’50s, when if Alabamians wanted to root for a winning team, they had to root for Auburn… when the tiger at the Magic City’s brand new menagerie was named the Auburn Tiger and when the elephant was named “Miss Fancy.”

Maybe this is common knowledge—if it is, don’t tell us—but apparently feel-good semantics ruled the pre-overtime era of college football, at least when it came to games with a trophy at the end (or at least when it came to inscribing those trophies). Because if you look closely you’ll notice that, no, Auburn did NOT [...]

Regarding Auburn’s eclectic, esoteric mascot culture, we now test the talons of our historical expertise on “the Auburn Tiger”—that’s how Pam Smith’s husband proudly referred to her when I called to make sure I had the right person. And I did. And though that title doesn’t accompany her name in the 1971 Glomerata, that’s what she looks like in the photo, lying on the field in front of the cheerleaders in a plush, hooded tiger-striped jumpsuit.

58 years ago, there was a tear in The Plainsman’s chardonnay.

Auburn could have lost the 1955 Gator Bowl to Vanderbilt 1,955 to nothing and I’d still have happy tears watching this.

In January 1981, six Auburn coeds were the face of American fitness.

Eric Ramsey was causing controversy even before coming forward about his pay-for-play relationship with Auburn boosters.

When The Legendary Beverly Bradford (TLBB) dumped the Auburn Plainsman’s weekly Loveliest of the Plains feature, her first act of defiance as 1970-71 editor, she preemptively countered objections to the decision by listing the titles still available for Auburn coeds to compete for—Miss Rat Hat, Miss Fall Rush, Glomerata Beauties, Miss A-Day, ad infinitum. But she left off one of the most important…

Per the ’77 Glom, only 1,500 students bought one of the 4,700 tickets put on sale for what turned out to be a non-stop 2 and a half hour Young Springsteen rockgasm at Beard-Eaves.