Book: Football Days

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"Big Eddie Glass was a wonderful help in interference. I used to play
left half and Eddie left guard. On plays where I would take the ball
around the end, or skirting tackle, Eddie would either run in the
interference or break through the line and meet me some yards beyond. We
had a great pulling and hauling team that year, and the greatest puller
and hauler was Eddie Glass. Perry Hale, who played fullback my
sophomore year, was a great interferer. He was big, and strong and fast.
On a straight buck through tackle, when he would be behind me, if there
was not a hole in the proper place, he would whirl me all the way round
and shoot me through a hole somewhere else. It would, of course, act as
an impromptu delayed play. In one game I remember making a forty yard
run to a touchdown on such a manoeuver."

[Illustration:

McCord Mills Roper Burke Pell Craig Mattis Lathrope Lloyd Bannard Booth
Wheeler Reiter
Poe Edwards Hillebrand
Hutchinson Palmer McClave

PRINCETON'S 1899 TEAM]


Arthur Poe

There never was as much real football ability concealed in a small
package as there was in that great player, Arthur Poe. He was always
using his head, following the ball, strong in emergency. He was endowed
with a wonderful personality, and a man who always got a lot of fun out
of the game and made fun for others, but yet was on the job every
minute. He always inspired his team mates to play a little harder.
Rather than write anything more about this great player, let us read
with him the part he so ably played in some of Princeton's football
games.

"The story of my run in 1898 is very simple. Yale tried a mass play on
Doc Hillebrand, which, as usual, was very unsuccessful in that quarter.
He broke through and tackled the man with the ball. While the Yale men
were trying to push him forward, I grabbed the ball from his arms and
had a clear field and about ten yards start for the goal line. I don't
believe I was ever happier in my life than on this day when I made the
Princeton team and scored this touchdown against Yale.

"In the second half McBride tried a center drive on Booth and Edwards.
The line held and I rushed in, and grabbed the ball, but before I got
very far the Referee blew his whistle, and after I had run across the
goal line I realized that the touchdown was not going to be allowed.

"Lew Palmer and I were tried at end simply to endeavor to provide a
defense against the return runs of de Saulles on punts. He, by the way,
was the greatest open field runner I have ever seen.

"My senior year started auspiciously and the prospects for a victorious
eleven appeared especially bright, as only two of the regular players of
the year before had graduated. The first hard game was against Columbia,
coached by Foster Sanford, who had a wealth of material drawn from the
four corners of the earth. In the latter part of the game my opponent by
way of showing his disapproval of my features attempted to change them,
but was immediately assisted to the ground by my running mate and was
undergoing an unpleasant few moments, when Sanford, reinforced by
several dozen substitutes, ran to his rescue and bestowed some unkind
compliments on different parts of my pal's anatomy. With the arrival of
Burr McIntosh and several old grads, however, we were released from
their clutches, and the game proceeded.

"After the Cornell game the Yale game was close at hand. We were
confident of our ability to win, though we expected a bitter hard
struggle, in which we were not disappointed. Through a well developed
interference on an end run, Reiter was sent around the end for several
long gains, resulting in a touchdown, but Yale retaliated by blocking a
kick and falling on the ball for a touchdown. Sharpe, a few minutes
later, kicked a beautiful goal, so that the score was 10 to 6 in Yale's
favor. The wind was blowing a gale all through the first half and as
Yale had the wind at their backs we were forced to play a rushing game,
but shortly after the second half began the wind died down considerably
so that McBride's long, low kicks were not effective to any great
extent.

"Yale was on the defensive and we were unable to break through for the
coveted touchdown, though we were able to gain ground consistently for
long advances. In the shadow of their goal line Yale held us mainly
through the wonderful defensive playing of McBride. I never saw a finer
display of backing up the rush line than that of McBride during the
second half. So strenuous was the play that eight substitutions had been
made on our team, but with less than five minutes to play we started a
furious drive for the goal line from the middle of the field, and with
McClave, Mattis and Lathrope carrying the ball we went to Yale's 25-yard
line in quick time.

"With only about a minute to play it was decided to try a goal from the
field. I was selected as the one to make the attempt. I was standing on
the 34-yard line, about ten yards to the left of centre when I kicked;
the ball started straight for the far goal post, but apparently was
deflected by air currents and curved in not more than a yard from the
post. I turned to the Referee, saw his arms raised and heard him say
'Goal' and then everything broke loose.

"I saw members of the team turning somersaults, and all I remember after
that was being seized by a crowd of alumni who rushed out upon the
field, and hearing my brother Ned shout, 'You damned lucky kid, you have
licked them again.' I kicked the ball with my instep, having learned
this from Charlie Young of Cornell, who was then at Princeton Seminary
and was playing on the scrub team. The reason I did this was because Lew
Palmer and myself wore light running shoes with light toes, not kicking
shoes at all.

"After the crowd had been cleared off the field there were only 29
seconds left to play, and after Yale had kicked off we held the ball
without risking a play until the whistle blew, when I started full speed
for the gate, followed by Bert Wheeler. I recall knocking down several
men as we were bursting through and making our way to the bus. It was
the first, last and only goal from the field I ever attempted, and the
most plausible explanation for its success was probably predestination."

[Illustration: "NOTHING GOT BY JOHN DeWITT"]

Arthur Poe was a big factor in football, even when he wasn't running or
kicking Yale down to defeat.

"Bill Church's roughness, in my freshman year, had the scrub bluffed,"
continues Arthur. "When Lew Palmer volunteered to play halfback and take
care of Bill on punts, Bill was surprised on the first kick he attempted
to block to feel Lew's fist on his jaw and immediately shouted:

"'I like you for that, you damn freshman.'

"That was the first accident that attracted attention to Lew. Palmer was
one of the gamest men and he won a Varsity place by the hardest kind of
work.

"Well do I recall the indignation meeting of the scrub to talk over
plans of curbing Johnny Baird and Fred Smith in their endeavor to kill
the scrub."


John DeWitt

Big John DeWitt was the man who brought home the Yale bacon for the
Tigers in 1903. To be exact he not only carried, but also kicked it
home. Two surprise parties by a single player in so hard a game are rare
indeed. Whenever I think of DeWitt I think of his great power of
leadership. He was an ideal captain. He thought things out for himself.
He was the spirit of his team.

This great Princeton captain was one of the most versatile football men
known to fame. Playing so remarkably in the guard position, he also did
the kicking for his team and was a great power in running with the ball.

DeWitt thought things out almost instantly and took advantage of every
possible point. The picture on the opposite page illustrates wonderfully
well how he exerted and extended himself. This man put his whole soul
into his work and was never found wanting. His achievements will hold a
conspicuous place in football history. Nothing got by John DeWitt.

DeWitt's team in 1903 was the first to bring victory over Yale to
Princeton since 1899. On that day John DeWitt scored a touchdown and
kicked a placement goal, which will long be remembered. Let us go back
and play a part of that game over with John himself.

"Whenever I think of football my recollections go back to the Yale game
of 1903," says DeWitt. "My most vivid recollections are of my loyal team
mates whose wonderful spirit and good fellowship meant so much to the
success of that Eleven. Without their combined effort Princeton could
not have won that day.

"We had a fine optimistic spirit before the game and the fact that Jim
Hogan scored a touchdown for Yale in the first part of the game seemed
to put us on our mettle and we came back with the spirit that I have
always been proud of. Hogan was almost irresistible. You could hardly
stop him when he had the ball. He scored between Harold Short and myself
and jammed through for about 12 yards to a touchdown. If you tackled Jim
Hogan head on he would pull you right over backwards. He was the
strongest tackle I ever saw. He seemed to have overpowering strength in
his legs. He was a regular player. He never gave up until the whistle
blew, but after the Princeton team got its scoring machine at work, the
Princeton line outplayed the Yale line.

"I think Yale had as good a team as we had, if not better, that day. The
personnel of the team was far superior to ours, but we had our spirit in
the game. We were going through Yale to beat the band the last part of
the game."

DeWitt, describing the run that made him famous, says:

"Towards the end of the first half, with the score 6 to 0 against
Princeton, Yale was rushing us down the field. Roraback, the Yale
center, was not able to pass the ball the full distance back for the
punter. Rockwell took the ball from quarterback position and passed it
to Mitchell, the fullback. On this particular play our whole line went
through on the Yale kick formation. No written account that I have ever
seen has accurately described just what happened. Ralph Davis was the
first man through, and he blocked Mitchell's kick. Ridge Hart, who was
coming along behind him, kicked the loose ball forward and the oval was
about fifteen to twenty yards from where it started. I was coming
through all the time.

"As the bouncing ball went behind Mitchell it bobbed up right in front
of me. I probably broke all rules of football by picking it up, but the
chances looked good and I took advantage of them. I really was wondering
then whether to pick it up or fall on it, but figured that it was harder
to fall on it than to pick it up, so I put on all the steam I had and
started for the goal. Howard Henry was right behind me until I got near
the goal post. After I had kicked the goal the score was 6 to 6. Never
can I forget the fierce playing on the part of both teams that now took
place.

"Shortly after this in the second half I punted down into Yale's
territory. Mitchell fumbled and Ralph Davis fell on the ball on the
30-yard line. We tried to gain, but could not. Bowman fell on the ball
after the ensuing kick, which was blocked. It had rolled to the 5-yard
line. Yale tried to gain once; then Bowman went back to kick. I can
never pay enough tribute to Vetterlein, to the rare judgment that he
displayed at this point in the game. When he caught that punt and heeled
it, he used fine judgment; but for his good head work we never would
have won that game. I kicked my goal from the field from the 43-yard
line.

[Illustration: JOHN DeWITT ABOUT TO PICK UP THE BALL]

"As Ralph Davis was holding the ball before I kicked it, the Yale
players, who were standing ten yards away were not trying to make it any
the easier for us. I remember in particular Tom Shevlin was kidding
Ralph Davis, who replied: 'Well, Tom, you might as well give it to us
now--the score is going to be 11-6,' and just then what Davis had said
came through.

"If any one thinks that my entire football experience was a bed of
roses, I want to assure him that it was not. I experienced the sadness
of injury and of not making the team. The first day I lined up I broke
three bones in one hand. Three weeks later, after they had healed I
broke the bones in my other hand and so patiently waited until the
following year to make the team.

"The next year I went through the bitter experience of defeat, and we
were beaten good and plenty by Yale. Defeat came again in 1902. It was
in that year that I met, as my opponent, the hardest man I ever played
against, Eddie Glass. The Yale team came at me pretty hard the first
fifteen minutes. Glass especially crashed into me. He was warned three
times by Dashiell in the opening part of the game for strenuous work.
Glass was a rough, hard player, but he was not an unfair player at
that. I always liked good, rough football. He played the game for all
it was worth and was a Gibraltar to the Yale team.

"Now that my playing days are over, I think there is one thing that
young fellows never realize until they are through playing; that they
might have helped more; that they might have given a few extra minutes
to perfect a play. The thing that has always appealed to me most in
football is to think of what might have been done by a little extra
effort. It is very seldom you see a man come off the field absolutely
used up. I have never seen but one or two cases where a man had to be
helped to the dressing room. I have always thought such a man did not
give as much as he should,--we're all guilty of this offense. A little
extra punch might have made a touchdown."

Tichenor, of the University of Georgia, tells the following:

"In a Tech-Georgia game a peculiar thing happened. One of the goal lines
was about seven yards from the fence which was twelve feet high and
perfectly smooth. Tech had worked the ball down to within about three
yards of Georgia's goal near the fence. Here the defense of the Red and
Black stiffened and, taking the ball on downs, Ted Sullivan immediately
dropped back for a kick. The pass was none too good and he swung his
foot into the ball, which struck the cross bar, bounded high up in the
air, over the fence, behind the goal post.

"Then began the mighty wall-scaling struggle to get over the fence and
secure the coveted ball. As fast as one team would try to boost each
other over, their opponents would pull them down. This contest continued
for fully five minutes while the crowd roared with delight. In the
meantime George Butler, the Referee, took advantage of the situation
and, with the assistance of several spectators, was boosted over the
fence where he waited for some player to come and fall on the ball,
which was fairly hidden in a ditch covered over with branches. Butler
tells to this day of the amusing sight as he beheld first one pair of
hands grasping the top of the fence; one hand would loosen, then the
other; then another set of hands would appear. Heads were bobbing up and
down and disappearing one after the other. The crowd now became
interested and showed their partiality, and with the assistance of some
of the spectators a Tech player made his way over the fence and began
his search for the ball, closely followed by a Georgia player. They
rushed around frantically looking for the ball. Then Red Wilson joined
in the search and quickly located it in the ditch; soon had it safely in
his arms and Tech scored a touchdown.

"This was probably the only touchdown play in the history of the game
which none of the spectators saw and which only the Referee and two
other players saw at the time the player touched the ball down."

That Charlie Brickley was in the way of bringing home the bacon to
Harvard is well known to all. There have been very few players who were
as reliable as this star. It was in his senior year that he was captain
of the team and when the announcement came at the start of the football
season that Brickley had been operated upon for appendicitis the
football world extended to him its deepest sympathy. During his illness
he yearned to get out in time to play against Yale. This all came true.
The applause which greeted him when Haughton sent this great player into
the game--with the Doctor's approval--must have impressed him that one
and all were glad to see him get into the game.

Let us hear what Brickley has to say about playing the game.

"I have often been asked how I felt when attempting a drop kick in a
close game before a large crowd. During my first year I was a little
nervous, but after that it didn't bother me any more than as if I were
eating lunch. Constant practice for years gave me the feeling that I
could kick the ball over every time I tried. If I was successful, those
who have seen me play are the best judges. Confidence is a necessity in
drop kicking. The three hardest games I ever played in were the
Dartmouth 3 to 0 game in 1912, and Princeton 3 to 0 in 1913, and the
Yale 15 to 5 game of the same year. The hardest field goal I ever had to
kick was against Princeton in the mud in 1913.

[Illustration: THE EVER RELIABLE BRICKLEY]

[Illustration: A FOOTBALL THOROUGHBRED--TACK HARDWICK]

"The most finished player in all around play I ever came across is Tack
Hardwick. He could go through a game, or afternoon's practice and
perform every fundamental function of the game in perfect fashion. The
most interesting and remarkable player I ever came across was Eddie
Mahan. He could do anything on the football field. He was so versatile,
that no real defense could be built against him. He had a wonderful
intuitive sense and always did just the right thing at the right time."




CHAPTER XV

"THE BLOODY ANGLE"


Football in its very nature is a rough game. It calls for the contact of
bodies under high momentum and this means strains and bruises! Thanks to
the superb physical condition of players, it usually means nothing more
serious.

The play, be it ever so hard, is not likely to be dangerous provided it
is clean, and the worst indictment that can be framed against a player
of to-day, and that by his fellows, is that he is given to dirty
tactics. This attitude has now been established by public opinion, and
is reflected in turn by the strictness of officials, the sentiment of
coaches and football authorities generally. So scientific is the game
to-day that only the player who can keep his head, and clear his mind of
angry emotions, is really a valuable man in a crisis.

Again, the keynote of success in football to-day is team work, perfect
interlocking of all parts. In the old days play was individual, man
against man, and this gave rise in many cases to personal animosity
which frequently reduced great football contests to little more than
pitched battles. Those who to-day are prone to decry football as a
rough and brutal sport--which it no longer is--might at least reverse
their opinions of the present game, could they have spent a certain
lurid afternoon in the fall of '87 at Jarvis Field where the elevens of
Harvard and Princeton fought a battle so sanguinary as to come down to
us through the years legended as a real _crimson_ affair. One of the
saddest accidents that ever occurred on a university football field
happened in this contest and suggested the caption of "the Bloody
Angle," the historic shambles of the great Gettysburg battle.

Luther Price, who played halfback on the Princeton teams of '86 and '87
and who was acting captain the larger part of the latter season, tells
the following story of the game:

"Princeton's contest with Harvard in the autumn of '87 was the bloodiest
game that I ever experienced or saw. At that period the football
relations between the two colleges were fast approaching a crisis and
the long break between the institutions followed a couple of seasons
later. It is perhaps true that the '87 game was largely responsible for
the rupture because it left secret bitterness.

"In fact, the game was pretty near butchery and the defects of the rules
contributed to this end. Both sides realized that the contest was going
to be a hummer but neither imagined the extent of the casualties. Had
the present rules applied there would have been a long string of
substitutes in the game and the caption of 'The Bloody Angle' could not
have been applied.

"In those days an injured player was not allowed to leave the field of
play without the consent of the opponents' captain. One can easily grasp
the fact that your adversaries' captain was not apt to permit a player,
battered almost to worthlessness, to go to the bench and to allow you to
substitute a strong and fresh player. Therein lies the tale of this
game.

"Princeton was confident of winning but not overconfident. We went out
to Jarvis field on a tallyho from Boston, and I recall how eagerly we
dashed upon the field, anxious for the scrap to begin. It was a clear,
cold day with a firm turf--a condition that helped us, as we were
lighter than Harvard, especially behind the line. None of our backs
weighed more than 155 pounds.

"Holden, the Crimson captain, was probably the most dangerous of our
opponents. He was a deceptive running back owing to the difficulty of
gauging his pace. He was one of the speediest sprinters in the Eastern
colleges and if he managed to circle either end it was almost good-bye
to his opponents.

"We were all lying in wait for Holden, not to cripple him or take any
unfair advantage, but to see that he did not cross our goal line. It was
not long before we had no cause to be concerned on that score. But
before Holden was disposed of we suffered a most grievous loss in the
disqualification of Hector Cowan, our left guard and our main source of
strength. Princeton worked a majority of the tricks through Cowan and
when he was gone we lost the larger part of our offensive power.

"Cowan's disqualification was unjustified by his record or by any
tendency toward unfair play, though this statement should not be
regarded as a reflection on the fairness of Wyllys Terry, the old Yale
player, who was the umpire. Walter Camp, by the way, was the referee.

"There never was a fairer player than Cowan, and such a misfortune as
losing him by disqualification for any act on the field was never dreamt
of by the Princeton men. The trouble was that Terry mistook an accident
for a deliberate act. Holden was skirting Princeton's left end when
Cowan made a lunge to reach him. Holden's deceptive pace was nearly too
much for even such a star as Cowan, whose hands slipped from the Harvard
captain's waist down to below his knees until the ankles were touched.
Cowan could have kept his hands on Holden's ankles, but as tackling
below the knees was foul, he quickly let go. But Holden tumbled and
several Princeton men were on him in a jiffy.

"Harvard immediately claimed that it was a foul tackle. It was a
desperate claim but it proved successful. To our astonishment and
chagrin, Terry ruled Cowan off the field. Cowan was thunderstruck at the
decision and protested that he never meant to tackle unfairly. We argued
with Terry but he was unrelenting. To him it seemed that Cowan meant to
make a foul tackle. The situation was disheartening but we still felt
that we had a good chance of pulling through even without Cowan.

"What was particularly galling to us was that we had allowed two
touchdowns to slip from our grasp. Twice we had carried the ball to
within a few yards of the Harvard line and had dropped the ball when
about to cross it. Both errors were hardly excusable and were traceable
to over-anxiety to score. With Cowan on the field we had found that he
could open up the Harvard line for the backs to make long runs but now
that he was gone we could be sure of nothing except grilling work.

"Soon after occurred the most dramatic and lamentable incident which put
Holden out of the game. We had been warned long before the contest that
Holden was a fierce tackler and that if we, who were back of the
Princeton line, wished to stay in the game it would be necessary to
watch out for his catapultic lunges.

"Holden made his tackles low, a kind of a running dive with his head
thrust into his quarry's stomach. The best policy seemed, in case Holden
had you cornered, to go at him with a stiff arm and a suddenly raised
knee to check his onslaught and, if possible, shake him off in the
shuffle, but that was a mighty difficult matter for light backs to do.

"First the line was opened up so that I went through. Harding, the
Harvard quarter, who was running up and down the Crimson line like a
panther, didn't get me. My hand went against his face and somehow I got
rid of him. Finally I reached Holden, who played the fullback position
while on the defensive, and had him to pass in order to get a touchdown.
There was a savage onslaught and Holden had me on the ground.

"A few moments later Ames, who played back with Channing and me, went
through the Harvard line and again Holden was the only obstacle to a
touchdown for Princeton. There was another savage impact and both
players rolled upon the ground, but this time Holden did not get up. He
got his man but he was unconscious or at least seemingly so. His chest
bone had been broken. It was a tense moment. We all felt a pang of
sympathy, for Holden was a square, if rough, player. Harvard's cheers
subsided into murmurs of sorrow and Holden was carried tenderly off the
field.

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