Students have walked IU’s campus for over 200 years, leaving behind stories passed down through generations. From whispered legends to strange traditions that defy explanation, IU’s folklore is woven into the fabric of student experiences.
Some tales are rooted in history, while others take on a life of their own, shaped by the bizarre imaginations of those who care to share them.
Wells Library sinking
According to campus lore, the architect who designed Herman B Wells Library in 1969 made a critical miscalculation — he forgot to account for the weight of the books. As a result, the library has been slowly sinking a few inches into the ground ever since. Of course, the story doesn’t hold up to scrutiny. The 12-story library was built atop a solid 94-foot bed of limestone, a foundation that isn’t about to give way under any number of books it can hold.
Still, the legend persists — maybe it’s the sheer absurdity of the idea, or perhaps it’s because every student, at some point, has felt the overwhelming weight of knowledge pressing down on them.
The IU Birdman
During spring 1966, students reported hearing a nightly bird-like call echoing through McNutt Quadrangle. No one knew his identity, but allegedly, at exactly 10:30 p.m. each night, his strange cry would pierce the air, starting as a slow pitch and rising into a hysterical shrieking laugh.
The sound quickly became a campus sensation, drawing students to the McNutt and Foster Quadrangle parking lots just to hear it. Some even recorded the eerie call for local radio broadcasts. However, not everyone found the Birdman amusing. Dormitory and university officials saw him as a disturbance and launched efforts to catch him in the act. When word of this plan spread, students banded together to protect him from being discovered. His legend grew, culminating in an infamous panty raid where his call became a rallying signal for the chaos. Eventually, the administration caught him, and the Birdman’s reign came to an end.
The Hatchet Man
Editor’s note: This story includes mention of violence.
The chilling tale of the Hatchet Man begins with a premonition by clairvoyant Jean Dickson, who predicted that someone would escape from a mental health hospital and kill one female student from Indiana’s top three universities. When news spread that a dangerous man had indeed broken out of a hospital near Bloomington, fear gripped the campus.
The legend follows two students who had received special permission to stay in their dorm at the empty McNutt Quadrangle over Thanksgiving break. They became uneasy after hearing about the escaped man over the radio and devised a secret knock so they could recognize each other.
As the evening wore on, one of the girls, who was studying alone in her third-floor room, heard a strange sound echoing through the empty halls — a dragging, thumping noise moving up the stairs, slowly making its way toward her door. Then came the scratching. Gentle at first, then more frantic. Frozen with fear, she pulled the covers over her head and lay still, too terrified to respond.
Eventually, the noise faded, and she spent the rest of the night wide awake. The next morning, she cautiously unlocked her door, only to stumble back in horror. Lying in front of her room was her friend from the ground floor, her fingernails worn down to the bone from desperately clawing at the door. A hatchet was buried deep in her back.
The Rose Well House
Nestled in the heart of IU’s Old Crescent, the Rose Well House is more than just a picturesque landmark. It’s the setting of one of the most enduring romantic legends on campus. Built in 1908 over a cistern that once supplied water to the campus, the small limestone pavilion has long been a gathering place for students.
It is said that Theodore F. Rose, who funded its construction, modelled the shape of the eight-sided well house on his Beta Theta Pi fraternity pin. For generations, the Rose Well House has been tied to love and commitment and while it served as a favored spot for marriage proposals and weddings, a new tradition took hold.
Legend has it that if you share a kiss with your significant other inside the well house at the stroke of midnight, your love will last forever. The kiss only counts if it lasts the duration of the full twelve strokes of midnight. Whether students believe in the magic or just enjoy the tradition, the Rose Well House remains a cherished symbol of IU’s romantic folklore for couples seeking a moment of history, and maybe just a little superstition, under its stone archways.
The Stolen Fish of Showalter Fountain
Few campus landmarks are as beloved, or as frequently tampered with, as Showalter Fountain. Depicting the "Birth of Venus" surrounded by five bronze fish, the fountain has been at the center of IU traditions and pranks for decades.
As of today, four of these fish are original, but one of them is a replica. After IU’s historic 1987 men’s basketball national championship win, one of the fish disappeared, never to be seen again. While the replica was installed in 2009, legends surrounding the original still persist. Some say it will only be returned when IU wins another banner while others believe the team won’t win again until the fish is brought back.
When former head coach Bob Knight was fired in 2000, students gathered at the fountain in protest and carried one of the fish all the way to the football stadium. In 2013, two more fish were nearly stolen just after graduation. Whether a prank, a curse or just a campus mystery, the missing fish remains one of IU’s most famous legends.
This story was originally published in the Indiana Daily Student's Source print publication March 3, 2025.
