Book: Football Days

W >> William H. Edwards >> Football Days




"While at Cornell in 1892, Osgood made, by his own prowess, two to three
touchdowns against each of the strong Yale, Harvard and Princeton
elevens, and in the Harvard-Pennsylvania game at Philadelphia in 1894,
he thrilled the spectators with his runs more than I have ever seen any
man do in any other one game.

"But I would belittle my own sense of Osgood's real worth if I confined
myself to expatiating on his brilliant physical achievements. His moral
worth and gentle bravery were to me the chief points in him that arouse
true admiration. When I, as coach of Penn's football team, discovered
that Osgood had quietly matriculated at Pennsylvania, without letting
anybody know of his intention, I naturally cultivated his friendship, in
order to get from him his value as a player; but I found he was of even
more value as a moral force among the players and students. In this way
he helped me as much as by his play, because, to my mind, a football
team is good or bad according to whether the bad elements or the good,
both of which are in every set of men, predominate.

"In the winter of 1896, Osgood nearly persuaded me to go with him on his
expedition to help the Cubans, and I have often regretted not having
been with him through that experience. He went as a Major of Artillery
to be sure, but not for the title, nor the adventure only, but I am sure
from love of freedom and overwhelming sympathy for the oppressed. He
said to me:

"'The Cubans may not be very lovely, but they are human, and their cause
is lovely.'

"When Osgood, with almost foolhardy bravery, sat his horse directing his
dilapidated artillery fire in Cuba, and thus conspicuous, made himself
even more marked by wearing a white sombrero, he was not playing the
part of a fool; he was following his natural impulse to exert a moral
force on his comrades who could understand little but liberty and
bravery.

"When the Angel of Death gave him the accolade of nobility by touching
his brow in the form of a Mauser bullet, Win Osgood simply welcomed his
friend by gently breathing 'Well,' a word typical of the man, and even
in death, it is reported, continued to sit erect upon his horse."


Gordon Brown

There are many young men who lost a true friend when Gordon Brown died.
He was their ideal. After his college days were over, he became very
much interested in settlement work on the East Side in New York. He
devoted much of his time after business to this great work which still
stands as a monument to him. He was as loyal to it as he was to football
when he played at Yale. Gordon Brown's career at Yale was a remarkable
one. He was captain of the greatest football team Yale ever had.
Whenever the 1900 team is mentioned it is spoken of as Gordon Brown's
team. The spirit of this great thoroughbred still lives at Yale, still
lives at Groton School where he spent six years. He was captain there
and leader in all the activities in the school. He was one of the
highest type college men I have ever known. He typified all the best
there was in Yale. He was strong mentally, as well as physically.

It was my pleasure to have played against him in two Yale-Princeton
games, '98 and '99. I have never known a finer sportsman than he. He
played the game hard, and he played it fair. He had nothing to say to
his opponents in the game. He was there for business. Always urging his
fellow players on to better work. Every one who knew this gallant leader
had absolute confidence in him. All admired and loved him. There was no
one at Yale who was more universally liked and acknowledged as a leader
in all the relations of the University than was Gordon Brown. The
influence of such a man cannot but live as a guide and inspiration for
all that is best at Yale University.

Gordon Brown's name will live in song and story. There were with him
Yale men not less efficient in the football sense, as witnesses the
following:

A Yale Song verse from the _Yale Daily News_, November 16th, 1900:

Jimmy Wear and Gordon Brown,
Fincke and Stillman gaining ground;
Olcott in the center stands
With Perry Hale as a battering ram--
No hope for Princeton;


James J. Hogan

The boys who were at Exeter when that big raw-boned fellow, Jim Hogan,
entered there will tell of the noble fight he made to get an education.
He worked with his hands early and late to make enough money to pay his
way. His effort was a splendid one. He was never idle, and was an honor
man for the greater part of his stay at school. He found time to go out
for football, however, and turned out to be one of the greatest players
that ever went to Exeter. Jim Hogan was one of the highest type of
Exeter men, held up as an example of what an Exeter boy should be. His
spirit still lives in the school. In speaking of Hogan recently,
Professor Ford of Exeter, said:

"Whenever Hogan played football his hands were always moving in the
football line. It was almost like that in the classroom, always on the
edge of his seat fighting for every bit of information that he could get
and determined to master any particularly difficult subject. It was
interesting and almost amusing at times to watch him. One could not help
respecting such earnestness. He possessed great powers of leadership and
there was never any question as to his sincerity and perfect
earnestness. He was not selfish, but always trying to help his fellow
students accomplish something. His influence among the boys was
thoroughly good, and he held positions of honor and trust from the time
of his admission."

Jim was hungry for an education--eager to forge ahead. His whole college
career was an earnest endeavor. He never knew what it was to lose
heart. "Letting go" had no part in his life.

Jim was a physical marvel. His 206 pounds of bone and muscle counted for
much in the Yale rush line. Members of the faculty considered him the
highest type of Yale man, and it is said that President Hadley of Yale
once referred to 1905 as "Hogan's Class."

As a football player, Jim had few equals. He was captain of the Yale
team in his senior year and was picked by the experts as an
"All-American Tackle."

Jim Hogan at his place in the Yale rush line was a sight worth seeing.
With his jersey sleeves rolled up above his elbows and a smile on his
face, he would break into the opposing line, smash up the interference
and throw the backs for a loss.

I can see him rushing the ball, scoring touchdowns, making holes in the
line, doing everything that a great player could do, and urging on his
team mates:

"Harder, Yale; hard, harder, Yale."

He was a hard, strong, cheerful player; that is, he was cheerful as long
as the other men fought fair.

Great was Jim Hogan. To work with him shoulder to shoulder was my
privilege. To know him, was to love, honor and respect him.

Jim spent his last hours in New Haven, and later in a humble home on the
hillside in Torrington, Conn., surrounded by loving friends, and the
individual pictures of that strong Gordon Brown team hanging on the wall
above him, a loving coterie of friends said good-bye. Many a boy now out
of college realizes that he owes a great deal to the brotherly spirit of
Jim Hogan.

[Illustration: McCLUNG, REFEREE SHEVLIN HOGAN]


Thomas J. Shevlin

There is a college tradition which embodies the thought that a man can
never do as much for the university as the university has done for him.

But in that great athletic victory of 1915, when Yale defeated Princeton
at New Haven, I believe Tom Shevlin came nearer upsetting that tradition
than any one I know of. He contributed as much as any human being
possibly could to the university that brought him forth.

Tom Shevlin's undergraduate life at New Haven was not all strewn with
roses, but he was glad always to go back when requested and put his
shoulder to the wheel. The request came usually at a time when Yale's
football was in the slough of despond. He was known as Yale's emergency
coach.

Tom Shevlin had nerve. He must have been full of it to tackle the great
job which was put before him in the fall of 1915. Willingly did he
respond and great was the reward.

When I saw him in New York, on his way to New Haven, I told him what a
great honor I thought it was for Yale to single him out from all her
coaches at this critical time to come back and try to put the Yale team
in shape. It did not seem either to enthuse or worry him very much. He
said:

"I just got a telegram from Mike Sweeney to wait and see him in New York
before going to New Haven. I suppose he wants to advise me not to go and
tackle the job, but I'm going just the same. Yale can't be much worse
off for my going than she is to-day."

The result of Shevlin's coaching is well known to all, and I shall
always remember him after the game with that contented happy look upon
his face as I congratulated him while he stood on a bench in front of
the Yale stand, watching the Yale undergraduates carry their victorious
team off the field. Walter Camp stood in the distance and Shevlin yelled
to him:

"Well, how about it, Walter?"

This victory will go down in Yale's football history as an almost
miraculous event. Here was a team beaten many times by small colleges,
humiliated and frowned upon not only by Yale, but by the entire college
world. They presented themselves in the Yale bowl ready to make their
last stand.

As for Princeton it seemed only a question as to how large her score
would be. Men had gone to cheer for Princeton who for many years had
looked forward to a decisive victory over Yale. The game was already
bottled up before it started; but when Yale's future football history
is written, when captain and coaches talk to the team before the game
next year, when mass meetings are called to arouse college spirit, at
banquets where victorious teams are the heroes of the occasion, some one
will stand forth and tell the story of the great fighting spirit that
Captain Wilson and his gallant team exhibited in the Yale bowl that
November day.

Although Tom Shevlin, the man that made it possible, is now dead, his
memory at Yale is sacred and will live long. Many will recall his
wonderful playing, his power of leadership, his Yale captaincy, his
devotion to Yale at a time when he was most needed. If, in the last game
against Harvard, the team that fought so wonderfully well against
Princeton could not do the impossible and defeat the great Haughton
machine, it was not Shevlin's fault. It simply could not be done. It
lessens in not the slightest degree the tribute that we pay to Tom
Shevlin.


Francis H. Burr

Ham Fish was a great Harvard player in his day. When his playing days
were over Walter Camp paid him the high tribute of placing him on the
All Time, All-American team at tackle. Fish played at Harvard in 1907
and 1908, and was captain of the team in 1909. I know of no Harvard man
who is in a better position to pay a tribute to Francis Burr, whose
spirit still lives at Cambridge, than Ham Fish. They were team mates,
and when in 1908 Burr remained on the side lines on account of injuries,
Ham Fish was the acting Harvard captain. Fish tells us the following
regarding Burr:

"Francis Burr was of gigantic frame, standing six feet three and agile
as a young mountain lion. He weighed 200 pounds. The incoming class of
1905 was signalized by having this man who came from Andover. He stood
out above his fellows, not only in athletic prowess but in all around
manly qualities, both mental and moral. Burr had no trouble in making a
place on the Varsity team at Guard. He was a punter of exceeding worth.
In the year of 1908 he was captain of the Harvard team and wrought the
most inestimable service to Harvard athletics by securing Percy Haughton
as Head Coach. Hooks Burr was primarily responsible for Haughton and the
abundance of subsequent victories. Just when Burr's abilities as player
and captain were most needed he dislocated his collar bone in practice.
I shall never forget the night before the Yale game how Burr, who had
partially recovered, and was very anxious to play, reluctantly and
unselfishly yielded to the coaches who insisted that he should not incur
the risk of a more serious break. Harvard won that day, the first time
in seven years and a large share of the credit should go to the injured
leader. We were all happy over the result but none of us were as happy
as he.

"Stricken with pneumonia while attending the Harvard Law School in 1910
he died, leaving a legacy full of encouragement and inspiration to all
Harvard men. He exemplified in his life the Golden Rule,--'Do unto
others as you would have them do unto you.' Of him it can be truly said,
his life was gentle as a whole, and the elements so mixed in him that
'nature might stand up and say to all the world,--"He was a man."'"


Neil Snow

The University of Michigan never graduated a man who was more
universally loved than Neil Snow. What he did and the way he did it has
become a tradition at Michigan. He was idolized by every one who knew
him. As a player and captain he set a wonderful example for his men to
pattern after. He was a powerful player; possessing such determination
and fortitude that he would go through a stone wall if he had to. He was
their great all-around athlete; good in football, baseball and track. He
had the unique record of winning his Michigan M twelve times during his
college course at Ann Arbor.

He played his last game of football at Pasadena, California. Neil was
very fond of exercise. He believed in exercise, and when word was sent
out that Neil Snow had gone, it was found that he had just finished
playing in a game of racquets in Detroit, and before the flush and zest
were entirely gone, the last struggle and participation in athletic
contests for Neil Snow were over.

It was my experience to have been at Ann Arbor in 1900, when Biffy Lee
coached the Michigan team. It was at this time that I met Neil Snow, who
was captain of the team, and when I grew to know him, I soon realized
how his great, quiet, modest, though wonderful personality, made
everybody idolize him. Modesty was his most noticeable characteristic.
He was always the last to talk of his own athletic achievements. He
believed in action, more than in words. After his playing days were over
he made a great name for himself as an official in the big games. The
larger colleges in the East had come to realize with what great
efficiency Neil Snow acted as an official and his services were eagerly
sought.

Neil Snow loved athletics. He often referred to his college experiences.
His example was one held up as ideal among the men who knew him.

When Billy Bannard died Johnny Poe wrote to Mrs. Bannard a letter, a
portion of which follows:

I greatly enjoy thinking of those glorious days in the fall of '95,
'96 and '97, when I was coaching at Princeton and saw so much of
Billy, and if I live to a ripe old age I do not think I shall
forget how he and Ad Kelly came on in the Yale game of '95, and
with the score of 16-0 against us started in by steadily rushing
the ball up to and over the Yale goal, and after the kick-off, once
more started on the march for another touchdown.

It was a superb exhibition of nerve in the face of almost certain
defeat and showed a spirit that would not be downed, and I have
often thought of this game in different far-off parts of the world.

While Yale finally won 20-10 still Billy showed the same spirit
that Farragut showed when told that the river was filled with
torpedoes and that it would be suicidal to proceed. He replied,
"Damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead!"

I love to think of Billy's famous fifty yard run for a touchdown
through the Harvard team in '96 at Cambridge, when the score had
been a tie, and how he with Ad Kelly and Johnny Baird went through
the Yale team in that '96 game and ran the score up to 24,
representing five touchdowns. Never before had a Yale team been
driven like chaff before the wind, as that blue team was driven.

Billy Bannard and Ad Kelly's names were always coupled in their playing
days at Princeton. These two halfbacks were great team mates. When Bill
Bannard died Ad Kelly lost one of his best friends.

In Ad Kelly's recollections, we read:

"Whenever I think of my playing days I always recall the
Harvard-Princeton game of 1896, and with it comes a tribute to one of us
who has passed to the great beyond; one with whom I played side by side
for three years, Bill Bannard. I always thought that in this particular
game he never received the credit due him. In my opinion his run on
that memorable day was the best I have ever seen. His running and
dodging and his excellent judgment had no superior in the football
annals of our day.

"In speaking of great individual plays that have won close games, his
name should go down with Charlie Daly, Clint Wyckoff, Arthur Poe, Snake
Ames and Dudley Dean, for with Reiter's splendid interference in putting
out the Harvard left end, Billy Bannard's touchdown gave Princeton the
confidence to carry her to victory that day and to the ultimate
championship two weeks later."


Harry Hooper

When Henry Hooper, one of Dartmouth's greatest players, was taken away,
every man who knew Hooper felt it a great personal loss. Those who had
seen him play at Exeter and there formed his acquaintance and later at
Dartmouth saw him develop into the mighty center rush of the 1903
Dartmouth team, idolized him.

C. E. Bolser of Dartmouth, who knew him well, says:

"Harry Hooper was a great center on a great team. The success of this
eleven was due to its good fellowship and team work. The central figure
was the idol of his fellow players. Such was Hooper. Shortly after the
football season that year he was operated upon for appendicitis and it
soon became evident that he could not recover. He was told of his
plight.

"He bravely faced the inevitable and expressed the wish that if he
really had to go he might have with him at the last his comrades of the
football field. These team mates rallied at his request. They surrounded
him; they talked the old days over, and supported by those with whom he
had fought for the glory of his college this real hero passed into the
Great Beyond, and deep down in the traditions of Dartmouth and Exeter
the name of Harry Hooper is indelibly written."

The game of football is growing old. The ranks of its heroes are being
slowly but surely thinned. The players are retiring from the game of
life; some old and some young. The list might go on indefinitely. There
are many names that deserve mention. But this cannot be. The list of
thoroughbreds is a long one. Yours must be a silent tribute.

Doctor Andrew J. McCosh, Ned Peace, Gus Holly, Dudley Riggs, Harry
Brown, Symmes, Bill Black, Pringle Jones, Jerry McCauley, Jim Rhodes,
Bill Swartz, Frank Peters, George Stillman, H. Schoellkopf, Wilson of
the Navy and Byrne of the Army, Eddie Ward, Albert Rosengarten, McClung,
Dudley and Matthews.

Richard Harding Davis and Matthew McClung were two Lehigh men whose
position in the football world was most prominent. The esteem in which
they are held by their Alma Mater is enduring. I had talked with Dick
Davis when this book was in its infancy. He was very much interested and
asked that I write him a letter outlining what I would like to have him
send me. Just before he died I received this letter from him. I regret
he did not live to tell the story he had in mind.

[Illustration: (Handwritten Letter)

RICHARD HARDING DAVIS
MOUNT KISCO
NEW YORK

April 2nd

My Dear Edwards,

Yes, indeed. As soon as I finish something I am at work on, I'll "think
back", and write you some memoirs.

With all good wishes

Richard Harding Davis]

His interest in football had been a keen one. He was one of the leaders
at Lehigh, who first organized that University's football team. He was a
truly remarkable player. What he did in football is well known to men of
his day. He loved the game; he wrote about the game; he did much to help
the game.




CHAPTER XXIII

ALOHA


"Hail and Farewell," crowded by the Hawaiians into one pregnant word!
Would that this message might mean as much in as little compass. I can
promise only brevity and all that brevity means in so vast a matter as
football to a man who would love nothing better than to talk on forever.

We know that football has really progressed and improved, and that the
boys of to-day are putting football on a higher plane than it has ever
been on before. We are a progressive, sporting public.

Gone are the old Fifth Avenue horse buses, that used to carry the men to
the field of battle; gone, too, are the Fifth Avenue Hotel and the
Hoffman House, with their recollections of great victories fittingly
celebrated. The old water bucket and sponge, with which Trainer Jim
Robinson used to rush upon the field to freshen up a tired player, are
now things of the past. To-day we have the spectacle of Pooch Donovan
giving the Harvard players water from individual sanitary drinking cups!

The old block game is no more. Heavy mass play has been opened up.
To-day there is something for the public to _see_; something interesting
to watch at every point; something significant in every move. As a
result, greatly increased multitudes witness the game. No longer do
football enthusiasts stand behind ropes on the side lines. The
popularity of the game has made it necessary to build huge _stadia_ for
the sport, to take the place of the old wooden stands.

College games, for the most part, nowadays are played on college
grounds. Accordingly the sport has been withdrawn from the miscellaneous
multitude and confined to the field where it really belongs and the
spirit of the game is now just what it should be--exclusively
collegiate.

Best of all, the modern style of play has made the game more than ever a
heroic see-saw, with one side uppermost for a time only to jar the very
ground with the shock of its fall.

Yet, victorious or defeated, the spirit through it all is one of
splendid and overflowing college enthusiasm. While there is abounding
joy in an unforeseen or hard won victory there is also much that is
inspirational in the sturdy, courageous, devoted support of
college-mates in the hour of defeat.

Isaac H. Bromley, Yale '53, once summed up eloquently the spirit of
college life and sport in the following words:

"These contests and these triumphs are not all there is of college life,
but they are a not unimportant part of it. The best education, the most
useful training, come not from the classroom and from books, but from
the attrition of mind on mind, from the wholesome emulation engendered
by a common aim and purpose, from the whetting of wits by good-natured
rivalry, the inspiration of youthful enthusiasms, the blending together
of all of us in undying love for our common Mother.

"As to the future: We may not expect this unbroken round of victories to
go on forever; we shall need sometimes, more than the inspiration of
victory, the discipline of defeat. And it will come some day. Our
champions will not last forever. Some time Stagg must make his last home
run, and Camp his final touchdown. Some day Bob Cook will 'hear the dip
of the golden oars' and 'pass from sight with the boatman pale.'

"It would be too much to think that all their successors will equally
succeed. It might be monotonous. But of one thing we may be
assured--that whatever happens, we shall never fail to extend the meed
of praise to the victors. We shall be hereafter, as in the past we have
always been, as stout in adversity as we have been merry in sunshine."

* * * * *

"Then strip, lads, and to it
Though sharp be the weather;
And if, by mischance you should happen to fall
There are worse things in life
Than a tumble on heather
And life is itself, but a game, of football."




[Transcriber's Note:

Many words in this text were inconsistently hyphenated or spelled, so I
have normalized them. The majority are football terms that originally
appeared inconsistently as "full-back," "fullback," and "full back,"
for example.]

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