Originally intended as a carpet company promotion, “Erik” has been an impressive feature of Hillcrest High School since the early 1970s.
Dear Vance: What’s the story behind the giant Viking that guards the entrance to Hillcrest High School? — G.L., Memphis.
Dear G.L.: In the early 1900s, when the University of Tennessee medical school here fielded its own football team, the players were called the Doctors. Meanwhile, about this time, the West Tennessee State Teachers College (now the University of Memphis, of course) called its football team the Teachers. What a terrifying spectacle that would have been, if the Doctors and the Teachers met on the playing field. And what nightmares those scary mascots would have given any youngster who saw the game. I’m joking, of course.
It didn’t take long before schools, colleges, and universities decided that more impressive mascots would make their teams seem more formidable. Wild animals were a good choice, so local schools adopted such creatures as the eagle for Treadwell, the panther for Messick, and the tiger for Mitchell and Whitehaven.
Meanwhile, other schools opted for mascots drawn from faraway lands, usually with no logical connection at all with the community. In Memphis, opponents faced off against the White Station Spartans, Sheffield Knights, and Fairview Trojans. For no obvious reason, since I’ve never read about any Scandinavian settlement in this region, Hillcrest High School went with a Nordic theme. Their yearbook is the Valhalla, and the Vikings have been their team name ever since the school opened in Whitehaven in 1964.
Not too far from the Hillcrest campus, the Schuler Distributing Company operated a sprawling facility at 3040 Democrat Road, selling floor coverings such as linoleum, vinyl, and carpet. Among their most popular items was a durable line of Viking Carpets.
One day, someone at Shuler must have been perusing a catalog from the International Fiberglass Company, established in Venice, California, in 1963, and well-known for their larger-than-life reproductions of robots, animals, and people for advertising purposes. They surely noticed an impressive statue of a Viking, adorned in full battle gear, including a horned helmet and massive shield. I have no idea how much this figure must have cost, but company president Ted Shuler ordered it, and for many years it stood in front of their building on Democrat.
An ad in the Hillcrest yearbook shows “Erik” in his original location, selling “Kitchen Carpets by Viking.”
His official name was “Erik the Viking.” According to the Roadside Architecture website, “Only about nine of them are known to still exist. Originally, these statues all held shields with the wording ‘Kitchen Carpets by Viking’ and the company’s logo. The statues were used for sales promotions, or the stores could buy them outright. There are reports that these statues originally held swords in their right hand, but the hand position doesn’t seem right, and vintage photos show no evidence of it.”
I know what you’re thinking. Carpets in … the kitchen? Look, this was the 1960s. It’s what you did.
The Roadside Architecture writers were correct about the sword — or lack of one — and the shield. As you can tell from this 1969 advertisement that Shuler Distributing ran in the Hillcrest yearbook (right), Erik is resting his hand on a roll of carpeting, and the shield is just as they described it.
So it seems we have this interesting situation: Fifty years ago, Memphis had a 21-foot fiberglass Viking standing on Democrat Road. The Shuler family had three kids attending Hillcrest High School about three miles away, whose mascot was a Viking. And Ted Shuler happened to be head of the Hillcrest booster club.
I believe you see where I’m going with this?
Hillcrest High School ’70s Alumni Group” on Facebook.
The exact date is uncertain, but it seems the Shuler Viking was donated to Hillcrest in late 1972 or early 1973. On that Facebook group some alumni believe the senior class paid $1,000 for it, but according to Diane (and confirmed by other students), Erik was given to the school for free. The Shulers even paid for the cost of transporting it to its new home. This couldn’t have been cheap. The statue weighs more than 400 pounds, and it’s not every day that a local moving company takes on such an unusual project.
His official name was “Erik the Viking.” According to the Roadside Architecture website, “Only about nine of them are known to still exist.”
I have to confess that it’s hard for me to comprehend that level of generosity. Why, if someone had taken the time to craft a 21-foot statue of Vance Lauderdale, I certainly wouldn’t give it away. Hmmm, I wonder if that fiberglass company is still in business? The Mansion could use a nice decoration for the front lawn.
But back to Hillcrest. What surprises me is that you’d think relocating a giant Viking to the school would have made the news, as it trundled its way down Elvis Presley Blvd., strapped securely to a trailer or flatbed truck. But if anybody took a photo of that journey, I haven’t seen it.
At some point, though, Erik found a more permanent — and highly visible — home. Using a crane from the Accramet Metal Company, whose company president served as the vice president of the Hillcrest booster club, workers hoisted Erik to the overhang outside the main entrance, as you can see here. It’s certainly an impressive way to greet visitors to the school.
Any mascot is often the target of pranks, and Hillcrest students sometimes had to spend the night at the school, protecting their Viking from Whitehaven students who threatened to vandalize him. “We heard that Whitehaven was going to paint Erik black and gold [that other school’s colors] one night before a football game,” says Hillcrest graduate Jim Beach. “So a bunch of ROTC guys spent the night on the second floor with cartons of eggs. They did show up with paint and toilet paper, and we egged the heck out of them.”
Now, why didn’t Erik use his mighty shield for protection? Well, c’mon — for one thing, he’s a statue, not a robot. Also, I’ve uncovered a bit of a mystery regarding that shield. The early photos show him holding a large, circular shield, apparently strapped to his left arm. Later photos, however, show the shield missing, with the arm still crooked. Nobody seems to know what happened to it. The shield I mean, not the arm.
The Hillcrest Viking has been featured in books and websites devoted to offbeat and unusual Americana. As noted on roadsidearchitecture.com, very few have survived, and their website includes a photo of an almost identical (but differently painted) Viking in the town of Nauvoo, Illinois. It’s not clear what he’s doing there — he doesn’t seem to be promoting any particular business or school — and I don’t know where the remaining Vikings may be.
In Memphis, it would be hard to find a larger, more impressive school mascot than the Viking that guards Hillcrest High School. I’m glad they acquired it, and I’m especially pleased they’ve taken such good care of Erik over the years.
“I was always proud of [my family] for donating Erik to the school, knowing how much we enjoyed his presence there, as witnessed by our many pictures, stories, and memories that include him,” says Prissy Cook Shuler Harbor, daughter-in-law of Ted Shuler, who has since passed away. “I like to think of Erik as a great mascot that embodied the camaraderie that lived long past our attendance there.”
