‘Not your elementary school’s scavenger hunt’: The history of UChicago’s Scav Hunt
Quick Takeaways
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Scav Hunt, an annual four-day contest held in May for University of Chicago students and alumni with quirky and near-impossible tasks, enter its 37th year when it kicks off May 2–5, 2024.
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The epic scavenger hunt was started in 1987 by student Chris Straus, AB’88, MD’92, and other classmates to have fun before the stress of finals week.
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Scav is most famous for the successful completion of a home-built nuclear reactor inside a dorm in 1999 and earned the Guinness World Record for the largest scavenger hunt in 2011 (albeit briefly).
It all started as a simple game—a harmless scavenger hunt—to have some fun before the intensity of spring finals week.
Thirty-seven years later, Scav Hunt has become one of those distinctly University of Chicago traditions that has united its quirky student body and alumni, produced unbelievable results—most notably, someone built a nuclear reactor in a dorm—and been the topic of countless articles, news pieces, and even a book.
What is Scav?
The official website (scavhunt.uchicago.edu) is cheeky in its definition, much like the game itself, borrowing from the famous philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre’s words and replacing the word ‘being’: “[Scav] is. [Scav] is in itself. [Scav] is what it is.”
To be clearer, Scav is a four-day contest open to UChicago students and alumni held every May and traditionally concluding on Mother’s Day—or Judgment Day, in Scav speak. This year’s Scav is a weekend earlier, set for May 2–5. It was created in 1987 by Chris Straus, AB’88, MD’92—currently a professor of radiology at UChicago Medicine—and some classmates, including Diane Kelly, AB’90, to blow off some steam before finals.
In 2011, it set a Guinness World Record as the largest scavenger hunt of its kind (later broken, due to the book’s stringent definition of a scavenger hunt).
The List
‘The List’ of items that must be found is where UChicago’s version of the children’s game takes a sharp turn. Some items on the List can be found in the style of a traditional scavenger hunt, but there are many others that “must be built, performed, written, programmed, drawn, eaten, designed, painted, solved, won, and (sometimes) endured,” according to Scav organizers.
The List is released in great fanfare at the stroke of midnight—“Give us the list, give us the list!” students chant—complete with its own arduous task of retrieving it. That’s included digging it up on the beach of Promontory Point, or finding a way bring down lists suspended high from the ceilings of Ida Noyes Hall.
The first List in 1987 was modest with 216 items, including: a Richard Nixon for president button, Mickey Mouse ears, an unfrosted blueberry Poptart, a bus ticket to Iowa, and Bruce Willis himself (“my roomie wants him, she will pay a bonus for him”).
By the late 90s, the List had ballooned to 339 items, with harder-to-accomplish tasks (the gigantic beef cow statue that sits on a trailer outside most fine ‘Sizzler’ restaurants or one of Jerry Springer’s security personnel (bonus points for Steve), and what the judges likely thought impossible, such as to coax Michael Jordan out of retirement (for 4,545 points), or, “a breeder reactor built in a shed, and the boy scout badge to prove credit was given where boy scout credit was due.”
Except someone did create that breeder reactor, and for a mere 50 points: Fred Niell, AB’99 and Justin Kasper, AB’99, became campus legends when they did so in Kasper’s Burton-Judson dorm room. Kasper is now an astrophysicist and professor at the University of Michigan and served as a principle investigator on the NASA Parker Solar Probe mission.
“When we put together these lists, we laugh a lot, because we don’t actually expect anyone to make some of this,” Scav Judge Sabrina Sternberg, AB’21, told the Chicago Tribune. “And then they do.”
In 1996, Scav Olympics (generally held on one of the campus quads) was added, with a series of events like churro fencing (yes, a fight with the Spanish and Portuguese fried dough), pancake tossing, dragon kite flying, and go-kart racing. The Scav Road Trip, which saw students travel as far as Las Vegas, was later capped at 1,000 miles before being retired, due to safety concerns.
In 2023, the List contained 291 items, including a ladder, Chicago Christkindlmarket mugs from as many different years possible, and a collection of consecutive Now That’s What I Call Music! CDs. One of last year’s high-ticket items (125 points) included the clue, “What is this, a crane game for a T-Rex? That is, a crane game that can be operated solely using leg power, no arms required?? A crane game with flashy lights, monstrous sound bites, and prehistoric prizes???”
When we put together these lists, we laugh a lot, because we don’t actually expect anyone to make some of this. And then they do.
Judgement
That brings us to the Judges: creators of the annual Lists, official point talliers, and those who have final say of winners on Judgment Day. Other duties include booking venues, Scav Olympic officiating, and cleanup.
Chosen among applications from students and alumni, Scav judges serve for life. But to be an active participant, judges must attend regular meetings during the weeks leading up to Scav and be fully committed during the four-day event.
The creation of the List takes months. “It sounds like a lot of work, but what it really means is that we get to experience the joy of Scav all year around,” said Judge Kirsten Madsen, AB’13, prior to Scav’s 28th-year anniversary.
In its nearly 40-year history, no team has ever recorded a perfect score. But Snell-Hitchcock does lead the way in wins with over 20 titles, including the crown in 2023.
What do teams win? Back in the late 1980s, each registered team received a five-gallon tub of ice cream, redeemable at the C-Shop. At one point, there was a cash prize. But mostly, the teams do it for the bragging rights.
“You have that real crash at the end,” Leila Sales, AB’06, told UChicago News in 2019 after the publish of her book on the history of Scav titled We Made Uranium! “There’s both the adrenaline and the fact that you’ve decided for those four days that this is the only thing in the world that matters. Then it’s gone, and you’re like, ‘Now what matters?’”
“It’s an existential moment,” she said.