Sculpture of Brea-Olinda’s Mascot Has Sparked a Cat Fight

It weighs 1,500 pounds. Has a permanent snarl. Refuses to answer to “Here, kitty, kitty.”

It’s the Brea-Olinda Wildcat sculpture, created by artist Carlos Terres.

The bronze artwork was supposed to be unveiled at Brea High in November, but because of an assortment of technical difficulties, the unveiling has been postponed until spring.

The work was proposed and commissioned by the city a year ago. Terres was hired to design the Wildcat, which will stand 14 feet high (including base) when erected on the lawn in front of the school. (The cost of the cat, about $22,000, was financed by the city’s special arts fund, which requires developers to chip in for artworks when they build in Brea).

Simple story, right? Guess again. Not everyone in Brea is thrilled about Terres’ interpretation of the Wildcat mascot. In fact, some apparently would rather see it melted down and turned into hubcaps or thimbles or something of that sort.

Terres, a native of Jalisco, Mexico, created a realistic feline with a few of his own touches. Specifically, it has a very aggressive look and a few eagle feathers. Not real feathers, but texturing of the bronze so the cat’s fur looks slightly feathered.

In Aztec culture, the eagle represents intelligence, Terres said. That, combined with the Wildcat, represents, in his mind, the blending of academics and athletics. Karma all around.

But adding feathers to the beloved ‘Cat was too much for some. Longtime Brea fans wanted their traditional longtime mascot--or no mascot.

“Some people just hate the idea of those feathers,” said one woman, who works at Brea City Hall. “But please don’t use my name when you repeat that.”

Brea Superintendent Edward Seal is happy to lend his name to the supporting side. As far as he’s concerned, as time marches on, so does the image of the Wildcat.

“I got a number of calls from Brea graduates of 20 to 30 years ago. They were saying, ‘That thing doesn’t look like a wildcat. It’s a beast! It’s a gargoyle!’ ” Seal said. “I told them you’ve got to get past that idea. This (new-look cat) may eventually become the official mascot. Right now, it’s a piece of art.”

One I decided to check out.

Christy Wada, spokeswoman for Brea’s public art program, said the bronze feline was being held at a secret location until the unveiling. I promised not to reveal the hideaway, but for descriptive purposes, imagine the setting:

A large, dusty lot filled with broken-down autos, heavy machinery and oil storage tanks. A compressor chugs out a constant beat. The smell of diesel fills the air.

(If you don’t get the picture, it’s a rather dreary scene).

The Wildcat is about 100 feet away at the back of the lot, crouching between a picnic table and a cement mixer. I must admit, I was a bit concerned to take a close-up view. I’m prone to nightmares. If this cat was really as gargoyle-like as some were saying, I’m in for at least a week of frazzled Zzzzzzzs.

And with this Aztec influence, who knows? Maybe this visit called for some sort of cosmic cat offering. A box of Tender Vittles maybe. Some catnip? A bottle of Tarnex, perhaps?

I told myself not to worry. After all, this was just another hunk of metal in the scrap yard, wasn’t it? Maybe it would turn out to be a weird thing, a Picasso-esque cat of two heads and eight paws.

Naaaaah.

The Wildcat was a beautiful sight, an inspiring piece of work, despite the oil storage tanks.

So who’s calling this beauty a beast?

Certainly, it’s no puddycat. No Tony the Tiger, no Snagglepuss. This is a fierce feline. One that, when erected, will stand so high it will be seen from Brea High’s lower athletic fields, Wada said.

That is, once it gets a base, the final hurdle in a long process. The most recent hurdle cleared was the state architectural review board. Seems when the board heard how large the ‘Cat was, the statue had to be classified as a building. Thus, the required questions: “Does it have a restroom?” “Is it handicap accessible?”

Can it get more ridiculous?

Stay tuned.

Barbie Ludovise’s column appears Wednesday and Sunday. Readers may reach Ludovise by writing The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, 92626 or by calling 966-5847.