Book: Football Days

W >> William H. Edwards >> Football Days




I have always counted it a privilege that I was invited to coach at
Annapolis through several football seasons. It was an unrivalled
opportunity to catch the spirit that permeates the atmosphere of this
great Service school and to realize how eagerly the progress of football
is watched by the heroes of the past who are serving wherever duty
calls.

It was there that I met Superintendent Wainwright. His interest in
Annapolis football was keen. Another officer whose friendship I made at
the Academy was Commander Grant, who later was Rear Admiral, Commander
of the Submarine Flotilla. His spirit was truly remarkable. The way he
could talk to a team was an inspiration.

It was during the intermission of a Navy-Carlisle game when the score
was 11 to 6 in Carlisle's favor, that this exponent of fighting spirit
came into the dressing-room and in a talk to the team spared nothing and
nobody. What he said about the White man not being able to defeat the
Indian was typical. As a result of this unique dressing-room scene when
he commanded the Navy to win out over the Indians, his charges came
through to victory by the score of 17-11.

There is no one man at Annapolis who sticks closer to the ship and
around whom more football traditions have grown than Paul Dashiell, a
professor in the Academy. He bore for many years the burden of
responsibility of Annapolis football. His earnest desire has been to
see the Navy succeed. He has worked arduously, and whenever Navy men get
together they speak enthusiastically of the devotion of this former
Lehigh hero, official and rule maker. Players have come and gone; the
call in recent years has been elsewhere, but Paul Dashiell has remained,
and his interest in the game has been manifested by self-denial and hard
work. Defeat has come to him with great sadness, and there are many
games of which he still feels the sting; these come to him as nightmares
in his recollections of Annapolis football history. Great has been his
joy in the Navy's hour of victory.

It was here at Annapolis that I learned something of the old Navy
football heroes. Most brilliant of all, perhaps, was Worth Bagley, a
marvelous punter and great fighter. He lost his life later in the war
with Spain, standing to his duty under open fire on the deck of the
_Winslow_ at Cardenas, with the utter fearlessness that was
characteristic of him.

I heard of the deeds on the football field of Mike Johnson, Trench,
Pearson, McCormack, Cavanaugh, Reeves, McCauley, Craven, Kimball and
Bookwalter. I have played against the great Navy guard Halligan. I saw
developed the Navy players, Long, Chambers, Reed, Nichols and Chip
Smith, who later was in charge of the Navy athletics. He was one of the
best quarterbacks the Navy ever had. I saw Dug Howard grow up from
boyhood in Annapolis and develop into a Navy star; saw him later coach
their teams to victory; witnessed the great playing of Dougherty,
Piersol, Grady and Bill Carpenter, who is no longer on the Navy list.
All these players, together with Norton, Northcroft, Dague, Halsey,
Ingram, Douglas, Jerry Land, Babe Brown and Dalton stand out among those
who have given their best in Army and Navy games.

Young Nichols, who was quarterback in 1912, was a most brilliant ground
gainer. He resigned from the Service early in 1913, receiving a
commission in the British Army. He was wounded, but later returned to
duty only to be killed shortly afterward. Another splendid man.

In speaking of Navy football I cannot pass over the name of W. H.
Stayton, a man whose whole soul seemed to be permeated with Navy
atmosphere, and who is always to be depended upon in Navy matters. The
association that I formed later in life with McDonough Craven and other
loyal Navy football men gave me an opportunity to learn of Annapolis
football in their day.

The list of men who have been invited to coach the Navy from year to
year is a long one. The ideal method of development of an undergraduate
team is by a system of coaching conducted by graduates of that
institution. Such alumni can best preserve the traditions, correct
blunders of other years, and carry through a continuous policy along
lines most acceptable. Graduate coaching exclusively is nearly
impossible for Navy teams, for the graduates, as officers, are stationed
at far distant points, mostly on board ship. Their duties do not permit
of interruption for two months. They cannot be spared from turret and
bridge; from the team work so highly developed at present on shipboard.
Furthermore, their absence from our country sometimes for years, keeps
them out of touch with football generally, and it is impossible for them
to keep up to date--hence the coaching from other institutions.

[Illustration: NORTHCROFT KICKING THE FIELD GOAL ANTICIPATED BY THE NAVY
AND FEARED BY THE ARMY]

Lieutenant Frank B. Berrien was one of the early coaches and an able
one. Immediately afterward Dug Howard for three years coached the team
to victory. The Navy's football future was then turned over to Jonas
Ingram, with the idea of working out a purely graduate system, in the
face of such serious obstacles as have already been pointed out.

One of the nightmares of my coaching experiences was the day that the
Army beat the Navy through the combined effort of the whole Army team
plus the individual running of Charlie Daly. This run occurred at the
very start of the second half. Doc Hillebrand and I were talking on the
side lines to Evarts Wrenn, the Umpire. None of us heard the whistle
blow for the starting of the second half. Before we knew it the Army
sympathizers were on their feet cheering and we saw Daly hitting it up
the field, weaving through the Navy defense.

Harmon Graves, who was coaching West Point that year, has since told me
that the Army coaches had drilled the team carefully in receiving the
ball on a kick-off--with Daly clear back under the goal posts. On the
kick-off, the Navy did just what West Point had been trained to expect.
Belknap kicked a long high one direct to Daly, and then and there began
the carefully prepared advance of the Army team. Mowing down the
oncoming Navy players, the West Point forwards made it possible for
clever Daly to get loose and score a touchdown after a run of nearly the
entire length of the field.

This game stands out in my recollection as one of the most sensational
on record. The Navy, like West Point, had had many victories, but the
purpose of this book is not to record year by year the achievements of
these two institutions, but rather catch their spirit, as one from
without looks in upon a small portion of the busy life that is typical
of these Service schools.

Scattered over the seven seas are those who heard the reveille of
football at Annapolis. From a few old-timers let us garner their
experiences and the effects of football in the Service.

C. L. Poor, one of the veterans of the Annapolis squad, Varsity and
Hustlers, has something to say concerning the effect of football upon
the relationship between officers and men.

"Generally speaking," he says, "it is considered that the relationship
is beneficial. The young officer assumes qualities of leadership and
shows himself in a favorable light to the men, who appreciate his
ability to show them something and do it well. The average young
American, whether himself athletic or not, is a bit of a hero worshipper
towards a prominent athlete, and so the young officer who has good
football ability gets the respect and appreciation of the crew to start
with."

J. B. Patton, who played three years at Annapolis, says of the early
days:

"I entered the Academy in 1895. In those days athletics were not
encouraged. The average number of cadets was less than 200, and the
entrance age was from 14 to 18--really a boys' school. So when an
occasional college team appeared, they looked like old men to us.

"Match games were usually on Saturday afternoon, and all the cadets
spent the forenoon at sail drill on board the _Wyoming_ in Chesapeake
Bay. I can remember spending four hours racing up and down the top
gallant yard with Stone and Hayward, loosing and furling sail, and then
returning to a roast beef dinner, followed by two 45-minute halves of
football.

"One of our best games, as a rule, was with Johns Hopkins University.
Paul Dashiell, then a Hopkins man, usually managed to smuggle one or
more Poes to Annapolis with his team. We knew it, but at that time we
did not object because we usually beat the Hopkins team.

"Another interesting match was with the Deaf Mutes from Kendall College.
It was a standing joke with us that they too frequently smuggled good
football players who were not mutes. These kept silent during the game
and talked with their hands, but frequently when I tackled one hard and
fell on him, I could hear him cuss under his breath."

M. M. Taylor brings us down to Navy football of the early nineties.

"In my day the principal quality sought was beef. Being embryo sailors
we had to have nautical terms for our signals, and they made our
opponents sit up and take notice. When I played halfback I remember my
signals were my order relating to the foremast. For instance,
'Fore-top-gallant clew lines and hands-by-the-halyards' meant that I was
the victim. On the conclusion of the order, if the captain could not
launch a play made at once, he had to lengthen his signal, and sometimes
there would be a string of jargon, intelligible only to a sailor, which
would take the light yard men aloft, furl the sail, and probably cast
reflections on the stowage of the bunt. Anything connected with the
anchor was a kick. The mainmast was consecrated to the left half, and
the mizzen to the fullback.

"In one game our lack of proper uniform worked to our advantage. I was
on the sick list and had turned my suit over to a substitute. I braved
the doctor's disapproval and went into the game in a pair of long
working trousers and a blue flannel shirt. The opposing team,
Pennsylvania, hailed me as 'Little Boy Blue,' and paid no further
attention to me, so that by good fortune I made a couple of scores. Then
they fell upon me, and at the close all I had left was the pants."

J. W. Powell, captain of the '97 team, tells of the interim between
Army-Navy games.

"Our head coach was Johnny Poe," he says, "and he and Paul Dashiell took
charge of the squad. Some of our good men were Rus White, Bill Tardy,
Halligan and Fisher, holding over from the year before. A. T. Graham and
Jerry Landis in the line. A wild Irishman in the plebe class, Paddy
Shea, earned one end position in short order, while A. H. McCarthy went
in at the other wing. Jack Asserson, Bobby Henderson, Louis Richardson
and I made up the backfield. In '95, Princeton had developed their
famous ends back system which was adopted by Johnny Poe and the game we
played that year was built around this system. Johnny was a deadly
tackler and nearly killed half the team with his system of live tackling
practice. This was one of the years in which there was no Army and Navy
game and our big game was the Thanksgiving Day contest with Lafayette.
Barclay, Bray and Rinehart made Lafayette's name a terror in the
football world. The game resulted in an 18 to 6 victory for Lafayette.

"My most vivid recollections of that game are McCarthy's plucky playing
with his hand in a plaster cast, due to a broken bone, stopping Barclay
and Bray repeatedly in spite of this handicap, and my own touchdown,
after a twelve yard run, with Rinehart's 250 pounds hanging to me most
of the way."

I recall a trip that the Princeton team of 1898 made to West Point. It
was truly an attack upon the historical old school in a fashion de luxe.

Alex Van Rensselaer, an old Princeton football captain, invited Doc
Hillebrand to have the Tiger eleven meet him that Saturday morning at
the Pennsylvania Ferry slip in Jersey City. En route to West Point that
morning this old Princeton leader met us with his steam yacht, _The
May_. Boyhood enthusiasm ran high as we jumped aboard. Good fellowship
prevailed. We lunched on board, dressed on board. Upon our arrival at
West Point we were met by the Academy representative and were driven to
the football field.

The snappy work of the Princeton team that day brought victory, and we
attributed our success to the Van Rensselaer transport. Returning that
night on the boat, Doc Hillebrand and Arthur Poe bribed the captain of
_The May_ to just miss connecting with the last train to Princeton, and
as a worried manager sat alongside of Van Rensselaer wondering whether
it were not possible to hurry the boat along a little faster, Van
Rensselaer himself knew what was in Doc's mind and so helped make it
possible for us to rest at the Murray Hill Hotel over night, and not
allow a railroad trip to Princeton mar the luxury of the day.

I have a lot of respect for the football brains of West Point. My lot
has been very happily cast with the Navy. I have generally been on the
opposite side of the field. I knew the strength of their team. I have
learned much of the spirit of the academy from their cheering at Army
and Navy games. Playing against West Point our Princeton teams have
always realized the hard, difficult task which confronted them, and
victory was not always the reward.

Football plays a valued part in the athletic life of West Point. From
the very first game between the Army and the Navy on the plains when the
Middies were victorious, West Point set out in a thoroughly businesslike
way to see that the Navy did not get the lion's share of victories.

If one studies the businesslike methods of the Army Athletic Association
and reads carefully the bulletins which are printed after each game, one
is impressed by the attention given to details.

I have always appreciated what King, '96, meant to West Point football.
Let me quote from the publication of the _Howitzer_, in 1896, the
estimated value of this player at that time:

"King, of course, stands first. Captain for two years he brought West
Point from second class directly into first. As fullback he outplayed
every fullback opposed to him and stands in the judgment of all
observers second only to Brooke of Pennsylvania. Let us read what King
has to say of a period of West Point football not widely known.

"I first played on the '92 team," he says. "We had two Navy games before
this, but they were not much as I look back upon them. At this time we
had for practice that period of Saturday afternoon after inspection.
That gave us from about 3 P. M. on. We also had about fifteen
minutes between dinner and the afternoon recitations, and such days as
were too rainy to drill, and from 5:45 A. M., to 6:05 A. M.
Later in the year when it grew too cold to drill, we had the
time after about 4:15 P. M., but it became dark so early that
we didn't get much practice. We practiced signals even by moonlight.

"Visiting teams used to watch us at inspection, two o'clock. We were in
tight full dress clothes, standing at attention for thirty to forty-five
minutes just before the game. A fine preparation for a stiff contest. We
had quite a character by the name of Stacy, a Maine boy. He was a
thickset chap, husky and fast. He never knew what it was to be stopped.
He would fight it out to the end for every inch. Early in one of the
Yale games he broke a rib and started another, but the more it hurt, the
harder he played. In a contest with an athletic club in the last
non-collegiate game we ever played, the opposing right tackle was
bothering us. In a scrimmage Stacy twisted the gentleman's nose very
severely and then backed away, as the man followed him, calling out to
the Umpire. Stacy held his face up and took two of the nicest punches in
the eyes that I ever saw. Of course, the Umpire saw it, and promptly
ruled the puncher out, just as Stacy had planned.

"Just before the Spanish War Stacy became ill. Orders were issued that
regiments should send officers to the different cities for the purpose
of recruiting. He was at this time not fit for field service, so was
assigned to this duty. He protested so strongly that in some way he was
able to join his regiment in time to go to Cuba with his men. He
participated in all the work down there; and when it was over, even he
had to give in. He was sent to Montauk Point in very bad shape. He
rallied for a time and obtained sick leave. He went to his old home in
Maine, where he died. It was his old football grit that kept him going
in Cuba until the fighting was over.

"No mention of West Point's football would be complete without the name
of Dennis Michie. He is usually referred to as the Father of Football
at the Academy. He was captain of the first two teams we ever had. He
played throughout the Navy game in '91 with ten boils on his back and
neck. He was a backfield man and one of West Point's main line backers.
He was most popular as a cadet and officer and was killed in action at
San Juan, Cuba.

"One of the longest runs when both yards and time are considered ever
pulled off on a football field, was made by Duncan, '95, in our
Princeton game of '93. Duncan got the ball on his 5-yard line on a
fumble, and was well under way before he was discovered. Lott, '96,
later a captain of Cavalry, followed Duncan to interfere from behind.
The only Princeton man who sensed trouble was Doggy Trenchard. He set
sail in pursuit. He soon caught up with Lott and would have caught
Duncan, but for the latter's interference. Duncan finally scored the
touchdown, having made the 105 yards in what would have been fast time
for a Wefers.

"We at West Point often speak of Balliet's being obliged to call on Phil
King to back him up that day, as Ames, one of our greatest centres, was
outplaying him, and of the rage of Phil King, because on every point,
Nolan, '96, tackled him at once and prevented King from making those
phenomenal runs which characterized his playing."

Harmon Graves of Yale is a coach who has contributed much to West
Point's football.

"Harmon Graves is too well known now as coach to need our praise," says
a West Pointer, "but it is not only as a successful coach, but as a
personal friend that he lives in the heart of every member of the team
and indeed the entire corps. There will always be a sunny spot at West
Point for Graves."

In a recent talk with Harmon Graves he showed me a beautifully engraved
watch presented to him by the Cadet Corps of West Point, a treasure
prized.

Of the privileged days spent at West Point Graves writes, as follows:

"Every civilian who has the privilege of working with the officers and
cadets at West Point to accomplish some worthy object comes away a far
better man than when he went there. I was fortunate enough to be asked
by them to help in the establishment of football at the Academy and for
many years I gave the best I had and still feel greatly their debtor.

"At West Point amateur sport flourishes in its perfection, and a very
high standard of accomplishment has been attained in football. There are
no cross-cuts to the kind of football success West Point has worked for:
it is all a question of merit based on competency, accuracy and fearless
execution. Those of us who have had the privilege of assisting in the
development of West Point football have learned much of real value from
the officers and cadets about the game and what really counts in the
make-up of a successful team. It is fair to say that West Point has
contributed a great deal to football generally and has, in spite of many
necessary time restrictions, turned out some of the best teams and
players in the last fifteen years.

"The greatest credit is due to the Army Officers Athletic Association,
which, through its football representatives, started right and then
pursued a sound policy which has placed football at West Point on a firm
basis, becoming the standing and dignity of the institution.

"There have been many interesting and amusing incidents in connection
with football at West Point which help to make up the tradition of the
game there and are many times repeated at any gathering of officers and
cadets. I well remember when Daly, the former Harvard Captain, modestly
took his place as a plebe candidate for the team and sat in the front
row on the floor of the gymnasium when I explained to the squad, and
illustrated by the use of a blackboard, what he and every one else there
knew was the then Yale defense. There was, perhaps, the suggestion of a
smile all around when I began by saying that from then on we were
gathered there for West Point and to make its team a success that season
and not for the benefit of Harvard or Yale. He told me afterwards that
he had never understood the defense as I had explained it. He mastered
it and believed in it, as he won and kept his place on the team and
learned some things from West Point football,--as we all did.

"The rivalry with the Navy is wholesome and intense, as it should be. My
friend, Paul Dashiell, who fully shares that feeling, has much to do
with the success of the Navy team, and the development of football at
the Naval Academy. After a West Point victory at Philadelphia, he came
to the West Point dressing room and offered his congratulations. As I
took his hand, I noted that tears were in his eyes and that his voice
shook. The next year the Navy won and I returned the call. I was feeling
rather grim, but when I found him surrounded by the happy Navy team, he
was crying again and hardly smiled when I offered my congratulation, and
told him that it really made no difference which team won for he cried
anyway.

"The sportsmanship and friendly rivalry which the Army and Navy game
brings out in both branches of the Service is admirable and unique and
reaches all officers on the day of the game wherever in the world they
are. Real preparedness is an old axiom at West Point and it has been
applied to football. There I learned to love my country and respect the
manhood and efficiency of the Army officers in a better way than I did
before. I recall the seasons I have spent there with gratitude and
affection, both for the friends I have made and for the Army spirit."

Siding with the Navy has enabled me to know West Point's strength. Any
mention of West Point's football would be incomplete without the names
of some officers who have not only safeguarded the game at West Point,
but have been the able representatives of the Army's football during
their service there. Such men are, Richmond P. Davis, Palmer E. Pierce,
and W. R. Richardson.


THE WAY THEY HAVE IN THE ARMY

If there is any one man who has permanently influenced football at West
Point that man is H. J. Koehler, for years Master of the Sword at the
Academy. Under his active coaching some of the Army's finest players
were developed. In recent years he has not been a member of the coaching
staff, but he none the less never loses touch with the team and his
advice concerning men and methods is always eagerly sought. By virtue of
long experience at the Academy and because of an aptitude for analysis
of the game itself he has been invaluable in harmonizing practice and
play with peculiar local conditions.

Any time the stranger seeks to delve either into the history or the
constructive coaching of the game at the Academy, the younger men, as
well as the older, will always answer your questions by saying "Go ask
Koehler." Always a hard worker and serious thinker, he is apt to give
an almost nightly demonstration during the season of the foundation
principles of the game.

Not only West Pointers, but also Yale and Princeton men, who had to face
the elevens under Koehler's coaching will remember Romeyn, who, had he
been kicking in the days of Felton, Mahan and the other long distance
artillerists, might well have held his own, in the opinion of Army men.
Nesbitt, Waldron and Scales were among the other really brilliant
players whom Koehler developed. He was in charge of some of the teams
that played the hardest schedules in the history of West Point football.
One year the cadets met Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Columbia, Syracuse and
Penn State. Surely this was a season's work calculated to develop
remarkable men, or break them in the making. Bettison, center, King
Boyers at guard, and Bunker at tackle and half, were among the splendid
players who survived this trial by fire. Casad, Clark and Phillips made
up a backfield that would have been a credit to any of the colleges.

Soon, however, the Army strength was greatly to be augmented by the
acquisition of Charles Dudley Daly, fresh from four years of football at
Harvard. Reputations made elsewhere do not count for much at West Point.
The coaches were glad to have Plebe Daly come out for the squad, but
they knew and he knew quite as well as they, that there are no short
cuts to the big "A." Now began a remarkable demonstration of football
genius. Not only did the former Harvard Captain make the team, but his
aid in coaching was also eagerly sought. An unusual move this, but a
tribute to the new man.

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.