The next day the picture was goneTHE NEXT DAY THE PICTURE WAS GONEJim Cooney Making a Hole for Dana Kafer.
"Sometimes for a few days before the game an Old Blue may come down to Oxford and give a little coaching to the team. Here often the captain does all the coaching. The Cambridge match is for blood, and, while friendly enough, is likely to be much more savage than any other. In the match I played in, which Oxford won 35-3, the record score in the whole series, which started in 1872, we had three men severely injured. In the first three minutes of the game one of our star backs was carried off the field with a broken shoulder, while our captain was kicked in the head and did not come out of his daze until about seven o'clock that evening. He played throughout the game, however. Our secretary was off the field with a knee cap out of place for more than half the game. A game of Rugby, by the way, consists of two 45-minute halves, with a three minute intermission. There are no substitutes, and if a man is injured, his team plays one man short. We beat Cambridge that year with thirteen men the greater part of the game, twelve for some time against their full team of fifteen. Their only try (touchdown in plain American) was scored when we had twelve men on the field. We were champions of England that year, and did not lose a match through the fall season, though we tied one game with the great Harlequins Club of London, whom we afterward beat in the return game. Of the fine fellows who made up that great Oxford team, six are dead, five of them 'somewhere in France.'"
Carl Flanders was a big factor in the Yale rush line. Foster Sanford considers him one of the greatest offensive centers that ever played. He was six feet three and one-fourth inches tall and weighed 202 pounds.
In 1906 Flanders coached the Indian team at Carlisle. Let us see some of the interesting things that characterize the Indian players, through Flanders' experience.
The nicknames with which the Indians labelled each other were mostly those of animals or a weapon of defense. Mount Pleasant and Libby always called each other Knife. Bill Gardner was crowned Chicken Legs, Charles, one of the halfbacks, and a regular little tiger, was called Bird Legs. Other names fastened to the different players were Whale Bone, Shoe String, Tommyhawk and Wolf.
The Indians always played cleanly as long as their opponents played that way. Dillon, an old Sioux Indian, and one of the fastest guards I ever saw, was a good example of this. If anybody started rough play, Dillon would say:
"Stop that, boys!" and the chap who was guiltyalways stopped. But if an opponent continually played dirty football, Dillon would say grimly: "I'll get you!" On the next play or two, you'd never know how, the rough player would be taken out. Dillon had "got" his man.
"Wallace Denny and Bemus Pierce got up a code of signals, using an Indian word which designated a single play. Among the Indian words which designated these signals were Water-bucket, Watehnee, Coocoohee. I never could find out what it all meant, and following the Indian team by this code of signals was a task which was too much for me."
Bill Horr, renowned in Colgate and Syracuse, writes: "Colgate University and Colgate Academy are under the same administration, and the football teams were practicing when I entered school. I went out for the team and after the second practice I was put into the scrimmage. I was greatly impressed with the game and continued for the afternoon practice, and played at tackle in the first game of the season. In four years of winning football I became acquainted with such wonderful athletes as Riley Castleman and Walter Runge of the Colgate Varsity team.
"In the fall of 1905 I entered Syracuse University and played right tackle on the varsity team for four years and was captain of the victorious 1908 team. In the four years I never missed a scrimmage or a game.
"I think that one of the hardest games I ever played in was the game against Princeton in 1908, when they had such stars as Siegling, MacFadyen, Eddie Dillon and Tibbott. The game ended in a scoreless tie with the ball see-sawing back and forth on the 40-yard line. I had been accustomed to carry the ball, and had been successful in executing a forward pass of fifty-five yards in the Yale game the week before, placing the ball on the 1-yard line, only to lose it on a fumble.
"I had the reputation of being a good-natured player, and indirectly heard it rumored many times by coaches and football players that they would like to see me fighting mad on the football field. The few Syracuse rooters who journeyed to Easton the day we played Lafayette had that opportunity. Dowd was the captain of the Lafayette team. Next to me was Barry, a first-class football player, who stripped in the neighborhood of 200 pounds. Just before the beginning of the second half I was in a crouching position ready to start, when some one dealt me a stinging blow on the ear. I was dazed for the time being. I turned to Barry and asked him who did it. He pointed to Dowd. From that instant I was determined to seek revenge. I was ignorant of the true culprit until about a year afterward, when Anderson, who played center, and was a good friend of mine, told me about it.It seemed that just before we went on the field for the second half Buck O'Neil, who was coaching the Syracuse team, told Barry to hit me and make me mad."
COLLEGE TRADITIONS AND SPIRIT
College life in America is rich in traditions. Customs are handed down class by class and year by year until finally they acquire the force of law. Each college and university has a community life and a character of its own.
The spirit of each institution abides within its walls. It cannot be invaded by an outsider, or ever completely understood by one who has not grown up in it. The atmosphere of a college community is conservative. It is the outcome of generations of student custom and thought, which have resolved themselves into distinct grooves.
It requires a thorough understanding of the customs of college men, their antics and pranks, to appreciate the fact that the performers are simply boys, carrying on the traditions of those gone before. Gray-haired graduates who know by experience what is embodied in college spirit, join feelingly in the old customs of their college days, and in observing the new customs which have grown out of the old.
These traditional customs, some of them humorous, and others deeply moving in their sentiment, are among the first things that impress the freshman. He does not comprehend the meaning of them at once, nor does he realize that they are the product of generations of students, but he soon learns that there is something more powerful in college life than the brick and mortar of beautiful buildings, or high passing marks in the classroom. When he comes to know the value and the underlying spirit of the traditions of his college, he treasures them among the enduring memories of his life.
The business man who never enjoyed the advantage of going to college, is puzzled as he witnesses the demonstration of undergraduate life, and he fails to catch the meaning; he does not understand; it has played no part in his own experience; college customs seem absurd to him, and he fails to appreciate that in these traditions our American college spirit finds expression.
As an outsider views the result of a football victory, he sees perhaps only the bitter look of defeat on the losers' faces, and is at a loss to understand the loyal spirit of thousands of graduates and undergraduates who stand and cheer their team after defeat. Such a sight, undoubtedly, impresses him; but he turns his attention to the triumphant march of the victorious sympathizers around the field and watches the winners being borne aloft by hero worshipers; while hats by the thousands are being tossed overthe cross bar of the goal post that carried the winning play.
The snake dance of thousands of exulting students enlivens the scene—the spirit of glorious victory breaks loose.
After the Harvard victory in 1908, in the midst of the excitement, a Harvard graduate got up from his seat, climbed over the fence, put his derby hat and bull-dog pipe on the grass, walked solemnly out a few paces, turned two complete handsprings, walked back, put on his hat, picked up his pipe, climbed solemnly over the fence again and took his place in the crowd. He was very businesslike about it and didn't say a word. He had to get it out of his system—that was all. Nobody laughed at him.
One sees gray-haired men stand and cheer, sing and enthuse over their Alma Mater's team. For the moment the rest of the world is forgotten. Tears come with defeat to those on the grandstand, as well as to the players, and likewise happy smiles and joyous greetings come when victory crowns the day.
In the midst of a crisis in the game, men and women, old and young, break over the bounds of conventionality, get acquainted with their seat mates and share the general excitement. The thrill of victory possesses them and the old grads embrace each other after a winning touchdown.
There may be certain streets in a college townupon which a freshman is never seen. It may be that a freshman has to wear a certain kind of cap; his trousers must not be rolled up at the bottom. And if you should see a freshman standing on a balcony at night, singing some foolish song, with a crowd of sophomores standing below, you smile as you realize that you are witnessing the performance of some college custom.
And if you see a young man dressed in an absurd fantastic costume, going about the streets of a city, or a quiet college town, it may mean an initiation into a certain society or club, and you will note that he does his part with a quiet, earnest look upon his face, realizing that he is carrying on a tradition which has endured for years.
You hear the seniors singing on the campus, while the whole college listens. It is their hour. At games you see the cheer leaders take their places in front of the grandstand, and as they bend and double themselves into all sorts of shapes, they bring out the cheers which go to make college spirit strong.
If you were at Yale, on what is known as "Tap Day," you would view in wonderment the solemnity and seriousness of the occasion. An election to a senior society is Yale's highest honor. As you sit on the old Yale fence you realize what it means to Yale men. In the secret life of the campus men yearn most for this honor and thetraditional gathering of seniors under the oak tree for receiving elections is a college custom that has all the binding force of a most rigid law.
ALUMNI PARADES
Then come the alumni parades at Commencement. The old timers head the procession; those who came first, are first in line, and so on down to the youngest and most recent graduate.
There are many interesting things in the parade, which bring out specific class peculiarities. In one college you may see gray-haired men walking behind an immense Sacred Bird, as it is called. This Bird—the creation of an ingenious mind—is the size of an ostrich and has all the semblance of life, with many lifelike tricks and habits.
Men dress in all sorts of costumes. This is a day in which each class has some peculiar part, and all are united in the one big thought that it is a cherished college custom.
You may see some man with the letter of his college on his sweater, another may have his class numerals, another may wear a gold football. These are not ordinary things to be purchased at sporting goods stores; they are a reward of merit. The college custom has made it so, and if in some college town the traditions of the university are such that a man, as he passes the Ma Newell gateway at Cambridge raises his hatin honor of this great Harvard hero, it is a tradition backed up by a wonderful spirit of love towards one who has gone. And then on Commencement Day when the seniors plant their class ivy—that is a token to remain behind them and flourish long after they are out in the wide, wide world.
College tradition makes it possible for a poor boy to get an education. The poor fellow may wait on the table, where sit many rich men's sons, but they may be all chums with him; they are on the same footing; the campus of one is the campus of the other, and all you can say is "It is just the way of things—just the way it must be." More power to the man who works his way through college.
It may be, as fellow college man, you are now recalling some custom that is carried out on a college street, in a dormitory, in a fraternity house, perhaps, or a club; perhaps in some boarding house, where you had your first introduction to a college custom; maybe in the cheapest rooming house in town you got your first impression of a bold, bad sophomore. You probably could have given him a good trouncing had he been alone, and yet you were prepared to take smilingly the hazing imposed upon you.
Maybe some of you fondly recall a cannon stuck in the ground behind a historical building where once George Washington had his headquarters. Around about this traditional monument cluster rich memories as you review the many college ceremonies enacted there.
Some of you, owing allegiance to a New England Alma Mater, may recall with smiles and perhaps mischievous satisfaction, the chequered career of the sculptured Sabrina in her various appearances and disappearances since the day, now long gone by, when in pedestaled repose she graced the college flower gardens. The Sabrina tradition is one of the golden legacies of Amherst life.
In the formation of college spirit and traditions I am not unmindful of the tremendous moulding power of the college president or the popular college professors. This is strikingly illustrated in the expression of an old college man, who said in this connection:
"I don't remember a thing Professor —— said, but I remember him."
When the graduate of a college has sons of his own, he realizes more fully than at any other time the great influence of personality upon youth. He understands better the problems that are faced by boys, and the great task and responsibility of the faculty.
I know that there are many football men who at different times in their career have not always praised the work of the college professors, but now that the games are over they probably look back affectionately to the men who made themtoe the mark, and by such earnestness helped them through their college career.
It is undoubtedly true that the head masters and teachers in our preparatory schools and colleges generally appreciate the importance of developing the whole man, mental, moral and physical.
SCHOOLMASTER AND BOY
Indeed it is a wonderful privilege to work shoulder to shoulder with the boys in our preparatory schools as well as in our colleges. At a recent dinner I heard Doctor S. J. McPherson, of the Lawrenceville School, place before an alumni gathering a sentiment, which I believe is the sentiment of every worthy schoolmaster in our land.
"Schoolmasters have attractive work and they can find no end of fun in it. I admit that in a boarding school they should be willing to spend themselves, eight days in the week and twenty-five hours a day. But no man goes far that keeps watching the clock. There may be good reasons for long vacations, but I regard the summer vacation as usually a bore for at least half the length of it.
"To be worth his salt, a schoolmaster must, of course, have scholarship—the more the better. But that alone will never make him a quickening teacher. He must be 'apt to teach,' and must lose himself in his task if he is to transfuse hisblood into the veins of boys. Above all, he must be a real man and not a manikin, and he must enjoy his boys—love them, without being quite conscious of the love, or at least without harping on it.
"The ideal schoolmaster needs five special and spiritual senses: common sense, the sense of justice, the sense of honor, the sense of youth and the sense of humor. These five gifts are very useful in every worthy occupation.
"Gentlemen, none of us schoolmasters has reached the ideal; however, we reach after it. Nevertheless, we neither need, nor desire your pity. We do not feel unimportant. Personally, I would not exchange jobs with the richest or greatest among you. I like my own job. It really looks to me, bigger and finer. I should rather have the right mold and put the right stamp on a wholesome boy than to do any other thing. It counts more for the world and is more nearly immortal. It is worth any man's life."
Another factor in the formation and development of college traditions and college spirit is the influence of the men who shape the athletic policy.
When one of the graduates returns to direct the athletic affairs of his Alma Mater, or those of another college he naturally becomes a potent influence in the life of the students. Great is his opportunity for character making. The men all look up to him and the spirit of hero worship ispresent everywhere. Such athletic directors are chosen largely because of their success on the athletic field. And when one can combine athletic directorship with scholastic knowledge, the combination is doubly effective.
By association they know the real spirit and patriotic sentiment of the college men. They appreciate the fact that success in athletics, like success in life, depends not merely upon training the head, but upon training the will. Huxley said that:
"The true object of all education, was to develop ability to do the thing that ought to be done when it ought to be done, whether one felt like doing it or not."
Prompt obedience to rules and regulations develop character and the athletic director becomes, therefore, one of the most important of college instructors. A boy may be a welcher in his classroom work, but when he gets out on the athletic field and meets the eye of a man who is bound to get the most out of every player for the sake of his own reputation, as well as the reputation of the school or college, that boy finds himself in a new school. It is the school of discipline that resembles more nearly than anything else the competitive struggle in the business life of the outside world that he is soon to enter.
Another exceedingly valuable trait that athletic life develops in a student is the spirit of honorable victory. The player is taught to win, to be sure,but he is also taught that victory must never overshadow honor.
Who misses or who wins the prize,Go lose, or conquer, as you canBut if you fail, or if you rise,Be each, Pray God, a gentleman.
Who misses or who wins the prize,Go lose, or conquer, as you canBut if you fail, or if you rise,Be each, Pray God, a gentleman.
This tradition and atmosphere cannot be retained in institutions merely by the efforts of the students. The co-operation of the alumni is necessary. On this account it is unfortunate that the point of view of too many college men regarding their Alma Mater is limited to the years of their own school and college days.
Our universities especially are beginning to learn that this has been a great mistake and that the continued interest and loyalty of the alumni are absolutely essential to insure progress and maintain the high standard of an institution. There is, in other words, a real sense in which the college belongs to the alumni. The faculty is engaged for a specific purpose and their great work is made much more profitable by the hearty co-operation of the old and young graduates who keep in close touch with the happenings and the spirit of their different alma maters.
One of the best assets in any seat of learning is the constructive criticism of the alumni. Broad minded faculties invite intelligent criticism from the graduate body, and they usually get it.
But after all, the real power of enthusiasm behind college traditions abides in the student body itself. How is this college patriotism aroused? What are its manifestations? What is it that awakens the desire for victory with honor, which is the real background of the great football demonstration that tens of thousands of Americans witness each year?
As I think back in this connection upon my own college experiences, the athletic mass meeting stands out in my memory and records the moment when all that was best and strongest in my fighting spirit and manhood came out to meet the demand of the athletic leaders. It was at that time that the thrill and power of college spirit took mighty possession of me. It might have been the inspiring words of an old college leader addressing us, or perhaps it was the story of some incident that brought out the deep significance of the coming game. Indeed I have often thought that the spirit of loyalty and sacrifice aroused in the breast of the young man in a college mass meeting springs from the same noble source as the highest patriotism.
MASS MEETING ENTHUSIASM
How well do I recall the mass meeting held by the undergraduates in Alexander Hall Thursday night before the Yale game in 1898! The team and substitutes sat in the front row of seats. There was singing and cheering that arousedevery man in the room to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. All eyes were focused on the cheer leader as he rehearsed the cheers and songs for the game, and as the speakers entered behind him on the platform, they received a royal welcome. There was Johnny Poe, Alex Moffat, some of the professors, including Jack Hibben, since president of Princeton, in addition to the coaches.
I can almost hear again their words, as they addressed the gathering.
"Fellows, we are here to-night to get ready to defeat Yale on Saturday. You men all know how hard the coaches have worked this year to get the team ready for the last big game. Captain Hillebrand and his men know that the college is with the team to a man. We are not here to-night to make college spirit, but we are here to demonstrate it.
"Those of you who saw last year's team go down to defeat at New Haven, realize that the Princeton team this year has got to square that defeat. Garry Cochran and the other men who graduated are not here to play. The burden rests on the shoulders of the men in front of me, this year's team, and we know what they're going to do.
"It is going to take the hardest kind of work to beat Yale on our own grounds. We must play them off their feet the first five minutes. I wonder if you men who are in Princeton to-day truly realize the great tradition of this dear college. Thousands and thousands of young men have walked across the same campus you travel. The Princeton of years gone by, is your Princeton to-day, so let us ever hold a high regard for those whose places we now occupy.
"Already from far off points, Princeton men are starting back to see the Yale game—back to their Alma Mater. They're coming back to see the old rooms they used to live in, and it is up to us to make their visit a memorable one. You can do that by beating Yale."
George K. Edwards
Many of you men have perhaps heard of the great love for Princeton shown in the story of the last days of Horse Edwards, Princeton '89. He will never return to Princeton again. He used to live in East College, long since torn down. Some years after he left college, he was told that he had but a few short months to live. He decided to live them out at Princeton.
One Friday afternoon in the summer of 1897, Horse Edwards arrived in Princeton from Colorado. He was very weak from his illness. He could barely raise his hand to wave to the host of old friends who greeted him as he drove from the station to East College, where his old room had been arranged as in his college days for his return.
There he was visited by many friends of theold days, who had come back for Commencement. Old memories were revived. That night he attended his club dinner, and the following day was wheeled out to the field to see the baseball game, Princeton beat Yale 16 to 8, and his cup of happiness was overflowing. On the following Monday Horse Edwards died. He told his close friends that as long as he had to go, he was happy that he had been granted his last wish—to die there at Princeton. And his memory is a treasured college tradition.
Job E. Hedges
Among the men who are always welcome at Princeton mass meetings and dinners, is Job E. Hedges. I remember what he said at a mass meeting at Princeton in 1896. He was then secretary to Mayor Strong, in New York, in which city the game with Yale took place that year.
The scene was in the old gymnasium. Every inch of space was occupied. On the front seats sat the team and substitutes. Around them and in the small gallery were the students in mass. Before the team were prominent alumni, trustees and some members of the faculty. Earnest appeal had been made by the various speakers tending to arouse the team to a high point of enthusiasm and courage, and the interest of their alma mater and of the alumni had been earnestly pictured. Mr. Hedges was called on as he frequently is at Princeton gatherings and as the usual field had been fairly covered, his opportunities were limited, without repetition of what had been said. He addressed the team and substitutes in typical Princeton fashion and concluded, so far as a record is made of it, somewhat as follows:
"There is a feeling in the public mind that football games breed dissipation and are naturally followed by unseemly conduct. We all know that much of the excitement following football games in New York is due largely not to college men but others, who take the game as an excuse and the time as an opportunity to indulge in more or less boisterous conduct, with freedom from interference usually accorded at that time. I wish it thoroughly understood that in no way as a Princeton man do I countenance dissipation, intemperance, boisterous or unseemly conduct. It may be a comfort for you men to know, however, that I am personally acquainted with every police magistrate in the City of New York. While I do not claim to have any influence with them, nor would I try to exercise it improperly, nevertheless if the team wins and any man should unintentionally and weakly yield to the strain consequent upon such a victory, I can be found that night at my residence. Any delinquent will have my sympathetic and best efforts in his behalf. If, however, the team loses, and any one goes over the line of propriety, he willhave from me neither sympathy nor assistance and I shall be absent from the city."
It is related that on the night following the victory, several daring spirits decorated themselves with cards hung from their necks bearing this legend, "Don't arrest me, I am a friend of Job Hedges." With these they marched up and down Broadway and, though laboring under somewhat strange conditions, were not molested. A full account of this expeditionary force appeared in the daily papers the next morning and it is related that there was a brisk conversation between Mr. Hedges and the mayor, when the former arrived at the City Hall, which took on, not an orange and black hue, but rather a lurid flame, of which Mayor Strong was supposed to be but was not the victim.
The net result of the scene, however, was that the team won, there was a moderate celebration and no Princeton man was arrested.
Johnny Poe, football player and soldierJOHNNY POE, FOOTBALL PLAYER AND SOLDIER
JOHNNY POE'S OWN STORY
Johnny Poe was a member of the Black Watch, that famous Scotch Regiment whose battles had followed the English flag. On the graves of the Black Watch heroes the sun never sets. Johnny Poe's death came on September 25th, 1915, in the Battle of Loos. Nelson Poe has given me the following information regarding Johnny's death. It comes direct from Private W. Faulkner, a comrade who was in the charge when Johnny fell.
In the morning during the attack we went out on a party carrying bombs. Poe and myself were in this party. We had gone about half way across an open field when Poe was hit in the stomach. He was then five yards in front of me and I saw him fall. As he fell he said, 'Never mind me. Go ahead with our boxes.' On our return for more bombs we found him lying dead. Shortly after he was buried at a place between the British and German lines. I have seen his grave which is about a hundred yards to the left of 'Lone Tree' on the left of Loos. 'Lone Tree' is the only landmark near. The grave is marked with his name and regiment.
Just what Johnny Poe's heroic finish on thebattle field meant to us here at home is the common knowledge of all football men and indeed of all sportsmen. There is ample evidence, moreover, that it attracted the attention of the four corners of the earth. Life in London or Paris was not all roses to the Americans compelled to remain there at the height of the war.
Paul Mac Whelan, a Yale man and football writer, had occasion to be in London shortly after the news of Poe's death in battle was received there. Talking with Whelan after his return he impressed upon me the place that Poe had made for himself in the hearts of at least one of the fighting countries.
"You know," said he, "that at about that time Americans were not very popular. There seemed to be a feeling everywhere that we should have been on the firing line. This feeling developed the fashion of polite jeering to a point that made life abroad uncomfortable until Johnny Poe fell fighting in the ranks of the Black Watch on the plains of Flanders. In the dull monotony of the casualty list his name at first slipped by with scant mention. It was the publication in the United States of the story of his fighting career which stimulated newspaper interest not merely in England, but throughout the British Empire. To Australia, Canada, New Zealand and South Africa—into the farthest corners of the earth—went the tale of the death of a great American fighter.
"I met one man, a lawyer, on his way to do some peace work, and he told me that he thought Poe had no right to be in the ranks of a foreign army. Probably most of the pacifists would have returned the same verdict regardless of Poe's love for the cause of the Allies. Yet among the thousands of Americans in Europe in the month following Poe's death, there was complete unity of opinion that the old Princeton football star had done more for his country than all the pacifists put together.
"'A toast to the memory of Poe,' said one of the group of Americans in the Savoy, that famous gathering place of Yankees in London. 'His death has made living a lot easier for his countrymen who have to be in France and England during the war.'"
"There is not an army on the continent in which Americans have not died, but no death in action, not even that of Victor Chapman the famous American aviator in France, gave such timely proof of American valor as that of Poe. In London for a month after his death there was talk among Americans and in the university clubs about raising funds for some permanent memorial in London to Poe. There are many memorials to Englishmen in America and it would seem that there is a place and a real reason for erecting a memorial in London to a fighting American who gave his life for a cause to England."
I have always treasured, in my football collection, some anecdotes which Johnny Poe wrote several years ago while in Nevada. In fact, from reading his stories, after his death, I got the inspiration that prompted me to write this book.
"The following stories were picked up by me," says Johnny, "through the course of college years, and after. Some of the incidents I have actually witnessed, of others my brothers have told me, when we talked over Princeton victories and defeats with the reasons for both, and still others I have heard from the lips of Princeton men as they grew reminiscent sitting around the cozy fireplace in the Trophy room at the Varsity Club House, with the old footballs, the scores of many a hard fought Princeton victory emblazoned upon them, and the banners with the names of the members of the winning teams thereon inscribed looking down from their places on the walls and ceilings."
How the undergraduates long to have their names enrolled on the victorious banner, knowing that they will be looked up to by future college generations of the sons of Old Nassau!
These old banners have much the same effect upon Princeton teams as did the name of Horatius upon the young Romans'!
And still his name sounds strong unto the men of Rome,As a trumpet blast which calls to them to charge the Volsian home;And wives still pray to Juno for boys with hearts as boldAs his who kept the bridge so wellIn the brave days of old.
And still his name sounds strong unto the men of Rome,As a trumpet blast which calls to them to charge the Volsian home;And wives still pray to Juno for boys with hearts as boldAs his who kept the bridge so wellIn the brave days of old.
Well do they know that Mother Princeton is not chary of her praise, when she knows that they have planted her banner on the loftiest tower of her enemies' stronghold.
The evenings spent in the Trophy room, the Grill Room of the Princeton Inn and in the hallways around a cheerful fire of the numerous Princeton clubs make me think of nights in the Mess room of crack British regiments, so graphically described by Kipling.
The general public cannot understand the seriousness with which college athletes take the loss of an important game. There is a Princeton football Captain who was so broken up over a defeat by Yale that, months after on the cattle range of New Mexico, as he lay out at night on his cow-boy bed and thought himself unobserved, he fell to sobbing as if his heart would break.
A football victory to many men is as dearly longed for as any goal of ambition in life. How else would they strive so fiercely, one side to take the ball over, the other to prevent them doing so!
Very few of the public hear the exhortation and cursing as the ball slowly but irresistibly is rushed to the goal of the opponent.
"Billy, if you do that again I'll cut your heart out!"
"Yale, if you ever held, hold now!"
How the calls to victory come back!
As Hughes says in Tom Brown's School Days, a scrimmage in front of the goal posts, or the Consulship of Plancus, is no child's play.
My earliest Princeton football hero was Alex Moffat '84. My brother Johnson was in his class and played on the same team, and would often talk of him to my brothers and to me. He used to give us a sort of
"Listen my children and you shall hearOf the midnight ride of Paul Revere, etc."
"Listen my children and you shall hearOf the midnight ride of Paul Revere, etc."
Though my brother is a small man, I thought all other Princeton players must be 9 cubits and a half, or as a reporter once said of Symmes '92, center rush in Princeton team of '90 and '91, "An animated whale, broad as the moral law and heavy as the hand of fate." I consider Alex Moffat the greatest goal kicker college football has produced. One football in the Princeton Trophy room has on it, "Princeton 26, Harvard 7." In that game Moffat kicked five goals from the field, three with his right and two with his left foot, besides the goals from the touchdowns.
A Harvard guard made the remark after the third goal, "We came here to play football, not to play against phenomenal kicking."
Princeton men cannot help feeling that Moffat should have been allowed a goal against Yale in his Post-graduate year of '84, which was calledbefore the full halves had been played and decided a draw, Yale being ahead, 6 to 4. Princeton claimed it but the Referee said he didn't see it, which caused Moffat to exclaim—something.
An amusing story is told in connection with this decision. Quite a number of years after Jim Robinson who was trainer of the Princeton team in '84, went down to the dock to see his brother off for Europe. Looking up he beheld on the deck above, the man who had refereed the '84 game, and whom he had not seen since, "Smith," he said, "I have a brother on this boat, but I hope she sinks."
Tilly Lamar's name is highly honored at Princeton, not only because he won the '85 game against Yale by a run of about 90 yards, but because he died trying to save a girl from drowning. Only a few months later, in the summer of '91, Fred Brokaw '92, was drowned at Elberon while trying to save two girls from the ocean. Both Lamar and Brokaw's pictures adorn the walls of the Varsity Club House.
The first game I ever saw the Princeton Team play was with Harvard in '88, which the former won 18 to 6. I was in my brother's ('91) room about three hours and a half before the game, and Jere Black and Channing, the halfbacks, were there. As Channing left he remarked, "Something will have happened before I get back to this room again," referring to the game, which doubtless made him a bit nervous.
I believe he was no more nervous ten years after, when in the Rough Riders he waited for word to advance up that bullet swept hill before Santiago.
'81 was the year so many Divinity students played on the Varsity: Hector Cowan the great tackle, Dick Hodge the strategist, Sam Hodge, Bob Speer, and I think Irvine; men all, who as McCready Sykes said, "Feared God and no one else." Hector Cowan is considered one of the best tackles that ever wore the Orange and Black jersey. While rough, he was never a dirty player.
In a game with Wesleyan, his opponent cried out angrily, "Keep your hands for pounding on your Bible, don't be sticking them in my face." One day in a game against the Scrub, Cowan had passed everyone except the fullback and was bearing down on him like a tornado, when within a few feet of the fullback the latter jumped aside and said politely, "Pass on, sir, pass on." Cowan played on two winning teams, '85 and '89.
In '89 the eligibility rules at the college were not as strict as now, so as Princeton needed a tackle, Walter Cash who had played on Pennsylvania the year before, was sent for and came all the way from Wyoming. He came so hurriedly that his wardrobe consisted of two 6-shooters and a monte deck of cards, on account of which he was dubbed "Monte" Cash. Cash was not fond of attending lectures, and once the facultyhad him up before them and told him what a disgrace it would be if he were dropped out of College. "It may be in the East, but we don't think much of a little thing like that out West," was his reply. Cash was in the Rough Riders and was wounded at San Juan.
Sport Donnelly was a great end that year. Heffelfinger the great Yale guard who is probably the best that ever played, said of Donnelly, that he was the only player he had ever seen who could slug and keep his eye on the ball at the same time. The following story is often told of how Donnelly got Rhodes of Yale ruled off in '89. Rhodes had hit Channing of Princeton in the eye, so that Donnelly was laying for him, and when Rhodes came through the line, Donnelly grabbed up two handsful of mud—it was a very muddy field—and rubbed them in his face and hollered, "Mr. Umpire," so that when Rhodes, in a burst of righteous indignation, hit him, the Umpire saw it and promptly ruled Rhodes from the field.
Snake Ames and House Janeway played that year, and as the latter was big—210 pounds stripped—and good natured, Ames thought that if he could only get Janeway angry he would play even better than usual, so, with Machiavellian craft, he said to him before the Harvard game, "House, the man you are going to play against to-morrow insulted your girl. I heard him do it, so you want to murder him." "Allright," said House, ominously, and as Princeton won, 41 to 15, Janeway must certainly have helped a heap.
George played center for Princeton four years, and for three years "Pa" Corbin and George played against each other, and, as cow-boys would say, "sure did chew each other's mane." I don't mean slugged.
My brother Edgar '91 was a great admirer of George. In '88 Edgar was playing in the scrub, and George broke through and was about to make a tackle when the former knocked one of his arms down as it was outstretched to catch it. George missed the tackle but said nothing. A second time almost identically the same thing occurred. This time he remarked grimly, "Good trick that, Poe." But when the same thing happened a third time on the same afternoon, he exclaimed, "Poe, if you weren't so small, I'd hit you."
In '89 Thomas '90, substitute guard, was highly indignant at the way some Boston newspaper described him. "The Princeton men were giants, one in particular was picturesque in his grotesqueness. He was 6 feet 5 and, when he ran, his arms and legs moved up and down like the piston rods of an engine."
In '90 Buck Irvine '88 brought an unknown team to Princeton, Franklin and Marshall, which he coached, and they scored 16 points against the Tigers. And though the latter won, 33 to 16,still that was the largest score ever made against Princeton up to that time. They did it, too, by rushing, which was all the more to their credit.
Victor Harding, Harvard, and Yup Cook, Princeton '89, had played on Andover and Exeter, respectively, and had trouble then, so four years later when they met, one on Princeton and the other on Harvard, they had more trouble. Both were ruled off for rough work. Cook picked Harding up off the ground and slammed him down and then walked off the field. In a few minutes Harding, after trying to trip Ames, also was ruled off. That was the net result of the old Andover-Exeter feud.
In '91 Princeton was playing Rutgers. Those were the days of the old "V" trick in starting a game. When the Orange and Black guards and centers tore up the Rutgers' V it was found that the Captain of the latter team had broken his leg in the crush. He showed great nerve, for while sitting on the ground waiting for a stretcher, he remarked in a nonchalant way, "Give me a cigarette. I could die for Old Rutgers," his tone being "Me first and then Nathan Hale." One version quite prevalent around Princeton has it that a Tiger player rushed up and exclaimed, "Die then." This is not true as I played in that game and know whereof I speak.
Fifteen years after that had happened, I met Phil Brett who had captained the Rutgers Team that day, and he told me that his life had been aburden to him at times, and like Job, he felt like cursing God and dying, because often upon coming into a café or even a hotel dining-room some half drunken acquaintance would yell out, "Hello, Phil, old man, could you die for dear Old Rutgers?"
Several years ago while in the Kentucky Militia in connection with one of those feud cases, I was asked by a private if I were related to Edgar Allan Poe, "De mug what used to write poetry," and when I replied, "Yes, he was my grandmother's first cousin," he, evidently thinking I was too boastful, remarked, "Well, man, you've got a swell chance."
So, knowing that the football season is near I think I have a "swell chance" to tell some of the old football stories handed down at Princeton from college generation to generation. If I have hurt any old Princeton players' feelings, I do humbly ask pardon and assure them that it is unintentional; for as the Indians would put it, my heart is warm toward them, and, when I die, place my hands upon my chest and put their hands between my hands.
With apologies to Kipling in his poem when he speaks of the parting of the Colonial troops with the Regulars: