AMERICAN COLLEGE ATHLETICS.

Harvard Rowing EightAMERICAN COLLEGE ATHLETICS.

Harvard Rowing Eight

By J. MOTT HALLOWELL.

(Continuedfrom page 241.)

ROWING.

A HISTORYof the development of boating at Cambridge would in itself fill a large-sized volume, and would only be a repetition of what has been often written before. The boating interest of the college dates its rise from a time long antecedent to that of any other athletic contests, as we understand them now, and the first intercollegiate race, in 1852, was rowed more than ten years before Harvard began her intercollegiate baseball games. At first desultory races with Yale were rowed, in which Harvard was usually victorious; then the National Rowing Association of American Colleges was formed, and Harvard annually sent a crew to the Intercollegiate regatta. About this time also, 1869, a four-oared crew was sent to England, but was defeated by six seconds in a four-mile race with Oxford University. Endless disputes, before and after the races, and the occurrence of many fouls caused by the large number of entries, at last caused Harvard and Yale to withdraw in disgust from the National Rowing Association, and in 1878 were begun the annual boat races between the two colleges, rowed on the Thames at New London. These races are still continued and now form the only intercollegiate boat races in which the university crew rows. For seven years Columbia also rowed on the same course, but last year this race was abandoned. With Yale eleven races have been rowed over the Thames course, Yale winning six and Harvard five.

Of all athletic training at Cambridge, that for the university crew is the longest and most trying. Soon after college opens in the fall, the captain collects a crew of the most promising candidates who are not in training for football, and begins a little desultory practice on the river. About the first of December the work begins in earnest and from then until the Yale race the following June, the candidates for the crew pursue systematic training. During the winter, social pleasure is cut down, as the men have to be in bed at an early hour, with possibly the privilege of sitting up one night in the week. Daily practice is taken upon the rowing-machines in the gymnasium accompanied by light chest-weight work and a run out-of-doors. As soon as the ice is off the river, the crew begins work on the water and soon after goes to a training table for the rest of the year. Then not only are regular hours of retiring necessary, but the men must report at eight o’clock every morning for a short walk before breakfast. This sort of training accompanied by work on the river, gradually increased in severity, continues until the last of June, the day of the Yale race.

The Charles River flows within five minutes’ walk of the college yard, furnishing a fairly good piece of water for practice; and a little over a mile below the college, it opens into “the basin,” a broadsheet of water almost two miles in length. On this course are rowed the class races every May. The three principal rowing events of the year at Harvard are comprised in these class-races, the Freshman race with Columbia College and the contest with Yale University.

THE LACROSSE TEAM.⇒LARGER IMAGE

THE LACROSSE TEAM.

⇒LARGER IMAGE

FOOTBALL.

In October, 1872, the first University Football Association was formed at Harvard. At this time football as a game was but little known in the United States; a few of the other colleges had formed a league, but the character of their game wasabsolutely different from that now played in America. It was modeled after the English “Association” game, and was played entirely with the feet; the ball could not be touched by the hands while the game was in progress, but instead was kicked or “dribbled” by the player in making his runs. At Harvard the game had a strong resemblance to our present method, and American football is a distinct outgrowth of a rough, rushing game as played for some fifty years on the college campus at Cambridge, a game at first modeled on no pattern, begun with no rules, but of an irregular, unrestrained growth, a sort of curious combination of “Association” football as played in England, and the college rush of those days in which an unlimited use of the hands and fists was allowed in order to gain possession of the coveted prize. About the year 1872, however, some Harvard men who had become acquainted with the English “Rugby” game, seeing the resemblance between it and the Harvard game, made a careful study of the former, and recognizing the need of regular rules, adopted a set of rules peculiarly like the Rugby, but adapted to the method of play then in vogue at Cambridge.

Thus was evolved a regular game limited by rules which were the result of a curious combination of three different factors: the game informally played by “sides” chosen from athletically inclined students, the rough fights of the Freshman and Sophomore classes in the annual rush, and lastly the influence of the adapted rules of the English Rugby game.

THE CREW AT THEIR WINTER WORK.

In the fall of 1874 Yale issued a call to Princeton, Harvard, Columbia and Rutgers to form an Intercollegiate Football Association, but Harvard could not join, because her game was so radically different from that played at the other colleges. The YaleRecordremarked: “Harvard said that her game was so strictly scientific as to prevent her from ever contending with other colleges whose games were so entirely devoid of skill.” If Harvard had consented to join the League, American football to-day would be a very different game, but she could not have retained her own rules as they were fundamentally different from those in use at the other four colleges, and they, naturally wishing to retain their own rules, could have out-voted her. By her action in refusing to join the League, and her superiority—principally shown in games against Canadian teams—she forced first Yale and then the other colleges to adopt the Harvard game. In 1875 the first Yale-Harvard game was played under the Rugby Union Rules, practically the same as those used at Cambridge; and in 1876 the Intercollegiate Football Association was formed between Harvard, Yale, Columbia and Princeton. The game that Harvard introduced, Yale and Princeton have since developed.

HARVARD SHOOTING CLUB.

In 1875 Harvard defeated Yale by four goals and four touch-downs to nothing. The next year she suffered defeat from Yale by one goal to three touch-downs, and since that time the Cambridge team has won not a single Yale game, and only a few from Princeton. The season of 1884 was especially disastrous. In vain the college paper, theCrimson, published semiweekly exhortations to the players to play better football, and to the undergraduates to take more interest in the team. The make-up of the eleven was excessively weak, and both the players and the rest ofthe undergraduates seemed indifferent concerning its success, so that at the close of the season it was disgracefully beaten by Yale and Princeton, and was defeated even by Wesleyan and the University of Pennsylvania. The undergraduates felt little regret when the Athletic Committee, who had for a long time been opposed to the game on account of its brutality as then played, announced that they considered it “brutal and demoralizing,” and that thereafter Harvard was forbidden to engage in any Intercollegiate football games. For a year the rule was enforced, but in 1886 it was reconsidered and Harvard again took her place in the football arena.

THE CREW’S NEW LONDON QUARTERS.

That year’s rest was fortunate, for it served as a breathing spell in which the college could pause and reflect for a brief space, so as to discern just what the fault was that had sent Harvard to the rear in football, while she still retained her prominent position in other games. When in 1886 she was allowed to resume her old position in the League, she began work with a grim determination to recover her lost prestige. With comparatively untried material to work upon, Brooks, ’87, the new captain, produced an eleven which was second only to Princeton and Yale. The record of Captain Holden’s eleven in 1887, the defeat of Princeton, the game lost to Yale at the New York Polo Grounds, and the dissatisfaction and dispute over the result, are still too fresh in the memory to need repetition.

The football played at Cambridge in the last two seasons shows that Harvard has regained her position as one of the leaders on the football field. For the seven or eight preceding years, Harvard football had been nothing more than a weak imitation of the game of Yale and Princeton. Upon the re-establishment of Harvard in the League, in the autumn of 1886, the game was first played with a slight attempt at originality. But the previous decline had been too great to admit of more than an attempt, and most of the time had to be spent in learning what the other colleges already knew. In 1887 for the first time in many years Harvard began the season on an equal footing with Yale and Princeton, with an equal knowledge of the science of the game and as clear a perception of what the requirements of the coming year would be. Instead of tamely imitating the game of the previous year as played by the two other colleges, she mapped out a plan of work of her own, and developed a scientific, heavy, rushing game, a system in striking contrast to the Yale and Princeton style, and entirely different from the heavy, bull-headed, rushing game as played by all the colleges six years ago. This style of play had its defects, but it possessed that which more than counterbalanced them all—it showed that at last Harvard football was logical and scientific, original in its conception and systematic in its play, and that the college again had taken her position as one of the leaders in the development of the American game of football.

LACROSSE.

Although lacrosse is not a game very generally adopted in this country, it has been successfully played at Cambridge for nearly ten years. The Association is but a young brother of the other clubs, having been formed as late as 1879. It was quickly followed in 1881 by the formation of the Intercollegiate League, with Harvard as a leading member, and in 1881, 1882, 1883, 1885, 1886 and 1887 the lacrosse championship fell to Cambridge, and in two of these years the Oelrich’s Cup was also secured at the annual tournament in New York. When lacrosse was first played at Cambridge, fifteen dollars expended for advertising and policemen, and seven dollars received as gate receipts was not an unknown experience at a championship game. But successful teams, and the natural advantages of the game, have gradually extended its popularity, and now each year the rapidly increasing number of players attests the growing interest felt by the college.

There are also many other athletic clubs of more or less importance in the college, which, however, seldom take part in intercollegiate games—the polo, shooting, canoe and bicycle clubs, and the sparring association. In tennis, Harvard has furnished some of the leading players in the country—R. D. Sears, H. A. Taylor, J. S. Clark, P. S. Sears and Q. A. Shaw; and the extent to which the game is now played is shown by the fact that, in reply to the questions of the Faculty athletic committee, out of 1,031 men who replied, over 600 named tennis as one of their usual forms of outdoor exercise.

FACULTY REGULATION OF ATHLETICS.

In 1882 there entered into Harvard Athletics a new factor, in the shape of interference with, or rather attempted guidance of, athletics by the college authorities. With this purpose in view, a committee on athletics was appointed, consisting of Prof. C. E. Norton, Prof. J. W. White and Dr. Sargent; a committee which for a time was more discussed, more abused, and more misunderstood than any other unfortunates who ever had the complimentary misfortune of being appointed to guide college athletes into the path they ought to follow. The immediate cause of its appointment was to prevent several abuses which the Faculty believed they saw increasing coincidently with the growth of intercollegiate athletics.

The public sentiment of the undergraduates was favorably inclined toward the regulating action of the Faculty, and although some of the overzealous raised an outcry against any interference on the ground that such would injure their chances of success, the majority and the more cool-headed undergraduates agreed that some regulation of the growth of athletics was needed.

The members of the committee were all very strongly of the opinion that athletics were essential to the highest welfare of the students; but at the same time they thought they saw tendencies growing which, unless checked, would be likely to more than offset all the advantages which were to be gained. They felt that the drift of affairs during the past few years had been toward the effacement of that clearly defined line which separates amateur from professional athletics, and that for the preservation of intercollegiate athletics a strict observance of this line was necessary. The first step in interfering with thelaissez fairesystem of athletics was to dismiss the men employed as trainers by the Athletic Association, and to forbid any “professional” trainer from appearing on the college grounds. Till that time each would-be athlete had chosen his own trainer, usually the professional selected by the H. A. A., but often some professional walker or sprinter who had no connection with the college. As a result petty disputes arose among the various trainers, and were continued on the track; and there was bitter rivalry in obtaining the best runners, in order to secure the advertisement of having trained a “record” man. Of course, imbued with this feeling, the trainers neglected the development of the weaker men who entered into track athletics for the sake of exercise, but with no hope of breaking a record. It was to remedy this evil that the committee on athletics forbade professional trainers to appear upon the college grounds. At the same time, realizing how necessary it was for the men in training to have some one to look after them, they sent a request to the corporation that some man might be appointed with a fixed salary, to have a place in the gymnasium and to act as a trainer for all the athletes. Their recommendation was accepted, and after a delay of about a year Mr. J. G. Lothrop was engaged to superintend the general exercise of all the trackmen, and also the special work of those training for the intercollegiate games, and he was installed in the gymnasium as “assistant in the department of physical science.” The satisfaction occasioned by this change has borne fruit in the large number who now work in the gymnasium classes during the winter, the many candidates for the intercollegiate team of track athletes, and the brilliant record of the team in annual intercollegiate games.

The second step taken by the committee, in 1882, was to prohibit the Harvard baseball nine from playing games against professionals. Previous to this, President Eliot had written to the Faculties of all the colleges with which the Harvard nine played matches, asking them whether they would forbid the nines of their respective colleges to play games with professional clubs in case Harvard took the initiative. Affirmative answers were received from all except Yale, and she alone rejected the proposition. Nevertheless, in October, 1882, the Harvard athletic committee forbade the nine to play further games against professionals; but the other colleges, instead of adopting the plan, as, naturally, it was supposed they would, neglected to support the position taken by Harvard, and up to the present time every college nine in the country except Harvard is allowed professional practice. At Cambridge the rule has been strictly enforced since it was adopted in 1882.

If the athletic committee won any favor with the undergraduates by their successful regulation of track and field athletics, it was all lost by this baseball regulation. The step was taken with the idea of drawing a strongly marked line between amateurs and professionals, thus effectually preventing the professional tendency from increasing in college athletics; and also to prevent the game from becoming a monopoly played by a few skilled players, instead of being participated in by the whole college. It was a measure passed with a good aim, but nevertheless one which has flown wide of its mark, for its only practical result has been to heavily handicap the Harvard nine.

When any game in any branch of athletics is successfully played by a university team, experience shows that greater interest is always aroused throughout the entire college in that particular sport; that more “scrub” teams are formed, and a larger number of undergraduates practise the game, than when they have only a weak, defeated university team as a model. A higher standard of ’varsity play may, perhaps, lessen the number of candidates for the team; but these candidates form only a very small proportion of the number who incidentally play the game, while the greater enthusiasm aroused largely increases the number of mediocre players. Thus this prohibition, besides weakening the nine, besides enforcing more work on the captain and the team, really defeats the very aim that the committee had in view, and lessens rather than increases the number of men who play the game for general recreation.

As regards the anti-professional reason, it is impossible to say what would be the status of the Harvard nine if this rule had not been passed. Judging from the other college nines who annually play professionals for practice, there would be but little difference from what now exists. The difference, so difficult to discover on the ball field, exists chiefly in the minds of men whose knowledge of baseball is derived principally from discussions in the college Faculty meetings. Although it is difficult to surmise how even there such a discriminating distinction can be drawn between local unrestrained, would-be-but-couldn’t-be professionals, and the disciplined league players; the former eager by any means fair or foul, to score a point against the “college boys,” the latter playing a practice game simply as a business matter. The Harvard Faculty, it is presumed, do not approve of professional sparring as an avocation for students, but they have not yet forbidden undergraduates to take lessons of competent teachers, even although the latter may have occasionally fought a prize-fight; and such lessons are deemed even less contaminating, from a professional point of view, than would be friendly and unpaid bouts with celebrated locals who hoped in the future to enter the ring.

The position of the committee towards college football has been unique. Football in this country is a game still in a state of development, and the Harvard athletic committee have taken an active part in developing it in the right direction. In November, 1883, the attention of the committee was first called to a serious consideration of football. The game as played that fall was one of the roughest ever played in the country; and of a kind of roughness where brutality and unfair play were put at a premium. On Thanksgiving Day, Harvard was scheduled to play thefinal championship game with Yale on the Polo Grounds, New York. Imagine the chagrin and astonishment of the undergraduates when, on November 22, a letter was received from the committee by R. M. Appleton, the captain of the eleven, stating that Harvard would not be allowed to play any more intercollegiate games, until substantial changes in the rules were made. Some of these rules appeared to the committee “to allow of no other inference than that the manly spirit of fair play is not expected to govern the conduct of all players, but on the contrary, that the spirit of sharpers and roughs has to be guarded against. The committee believes that the games hotly played under these rules have already begun to degenerate from a manly, if rough, sport, into brutal and dangerous contests. They regard this as a serious misfortune in the interest of the game, which, if played in a gentlemanly spirit, may be one of the most useful college sports as a means of physical development. They regret that they did not give earlier attention to the character of these rules, and thus earlier come to the conclusion which they have now reached, namely, that the Harvard eleven cannot be allowed to take part in any further intercollegiate match games until substantial changes in the rules have been made.” The objectionable rules were:

Rule 19. The referee shall disqualify any player whom he haswarned twice for intentionaloff-side play,intentionaltackling in touch orintentionalviolation of Rule 28.

Rule 28. No kicking, throttling, butting, tripping-up, tackling below the hips, or striking with closed fists shall be allowed.

Rule 38. No players shallintentionallylay hands upon or interfere with an opponent unless he has the ball.

In other words, a man could intentionally knock down another player with a straight blow from the shoulder; he could do it again if he wished, but not until he had done it the third time could he be disqualified. It was to this and its practice that the athletic committee objected. Most of the New York papers sneered at it as “Harvard delicacy;” while a scatter-brained undergraduate, in an open letter in theCrimson, abused the committee for obliging our eleven to break its agreement, for robbing the Yale team of some $1,500, its expected share in the gate-money, and ended by solemnly declaring, “We sincerely hope that the time will sometime come when our feelings of honor will have some weight with the Faculty in its decisions.”

That the athletic committee, however, were not irredeemably lost to all consideration of the honor of the students and were not quite as prudish or unreasonable as the New York press represented them, was soon shown by their allowing the game to be played when the respective captains of the Harvard and Yale teams informed them that the objectionable rules had been changed. The important changes were that the referee was allowed to disqualify a player without any previous warning, and that no more than two disqualified men on either side should have their places filled by substitutes; also that no player should lay hands on or interfere with an opponent unless he had the ball. The game was played, and, as was expected, Harvard was beaten. The football of the succeeding year was fully as bad as it had been in 1883, and consequently there was a large body among the students ready to support the athletic committee when, at the close of the season, they announced that they considered the game as then played to be brutal and demoralizing, and on this account should request the Faculty to prohibit Harvard from playing it against other colleges. A short delay was granted before presenting this report in order to give the students a chance for a hearing; but no satisfactory results came from the delay, and in January, 1885, Harvard was forbidden to engage in any more intercollegiate football contests.

So much has been said and written about this action of the athletic committee, so much abuse has been heaped by the newspapers on the “Harvard dudes,” and so much misrepresentation has been spread abroad concerning the so-called “Harvard daintiness,” that it is only fair, even at this late date, to consider, for a few moments, what it was that influenced the committee in their action, and whether this Harvard daintiness was the result of an unmanly avoidance of the roughness of the game, or whether it was actuated by a feeling that no sport encourages true manliness when it has such an alloy of brutality and unfair play as football had at that period.

The committee had attended the four principal championship games of the season, and at each of these games they had stationed themselves in different parts of the field, in order to notice what seemed to be the objectionable features of the play. Their report says:“In every one of these games there was brutal fighting with the fists when the men had to be separated by other players, or by the judges and referee, or by the bystanders and the police. In addition there were numerous instances where a single blow was struck, instances that occurred in every one of the games. A man was felled by a blow in the face in the Harvard-Princeton game, in the Harvard-Yale game and in the Yale-Princeton game. In the Wesleyan-Pennsylvania game a man was thrown unfairly, out of bounds, by an opposing player. Then, as he was rising, but before he was on his feet, his antagonist turned, struck him in the face and knocked him down, and returned in triumph with the ball. In all of the games the manifestations of gentlemanly spirit were lacking—the spirit that scorns to take an unfair advantage of an opponent. The teamsplayed to winby fair means or by foul. If two teams are at all evenly matched, and one plays a gentlemanly and the other an unfair game, the self-respecting team will always be beaten.... In the four games which we attended there were but two cases where a player was punished for brutal or unfair play. In several cases the team was punished by having a ‘down’ given to the other side, but only twice was a man disqualified.”

In 1885 an important change was made in the personnel of the committee by increasing their number from three to five; of the five members two to be representative undergraduate athletes, one a recent graduate, one a physician, resident in Boston or in Cambridge, and the director of the gymnasium, who is also a member of the Faculty. The other colleges, urged on by a natural spirit of progress in the development of football, and spurred still further by the public attention which had been attracted to its abuses, had materially altered its character. The committee carefully watched it progress as shown in the championship contests between the other colleges, and after careful consideration, came to the conclusion that a decided change had taken place; that it had largely lost its brutality, and, although rough, its roughness was of a kind that often encouraged a manly spirit; that although still far from perfect, it was but in a transient stage of development, and that the new rules, with a few slight exceptions, had proved efficacious in regard to the evils they sought to remedy. They therefore recommended that the Faculty should allow Harvard to renew her intercollegiate games of football. The report was accepted and Harvard was reinstated in her position in the intercollegiate league.

Since the reinstatement of Harvard into the football league, no important action has been taken by the athletic committee. The committee have been much abused, and still more ridiculed, but a calm survey of the work they have done, however much one may differ with them on a few measures, must be convincing that they have been needed as a restraint upon the exceeding growth and concomitant abuses of athletics, and that their work has usually been successful.

The formation and growth of the different athletic organizations up to about 1882 formed by itself a distinct period in Harvard athletics; then began a new period, marked by their curtailment, or, more justly speaking, the curtailment of what seemed to be their abuses, by Faculty restrictions. Within the last few years has begun still a third period, marked by distinctly new athletic action; this is the curtailment by the students themselves of Harvard participation in intercollegiate athletics; a feeling that the intercollegiate athletic interests of the college have become too complicated and too cumbrous, and that action should be taken to restrain them.

When, in order to win an intercollegiate athletic meeting, it is necessary, as is the case, not only to send good athletes upon the field, but also to train good amateur detectives in order to ferret out unfair entries from other colleges, the time certainly has arrived when some sharp remedy should be applied. Often, it may be, these unfair entries are not sought by the college under whose colors they compete, they may be simply “mug hunters,” attracted by the rich prizes, and the wide reputation which attaches itself to an intercollegiate prize-winner; but, nevertheless, such entries are oftener and more easily made, and are more readily winked at when there are thirteen colleges and over two hundred entries, than when there are only two colleges and fifty entries. A clearly drawn distinction between college and non-college athletics is absolutely essential for the true welfare of college athletics, and this line it is hard to preserve in any large intercollegiate league.

Never yet has there been a large intercollegiate league in any important branch of athletics which has not been productive of bitter ill-feeling and charges of unfair play. The generous rivalry begun on theathletic field has far too often borne fruit at the conventions in underhand combinations worthy only of those political conventions of which they are cheap imitations, and too often victory on the athletic field must be preceded by a victory on paper, insignificant, perhaps, to the uninitiated, but which under its apparently harmless words conceals the futurecoup d’étatby which victory is to be won. The defeated team, smarting at the recognition that it has been tricked, is obliged quietly to submit or be taunted with not having pluck enough to accept defeat; or else it may carry on a wordy war which no one outside the college understands, which brings no satisfaction, and which usually ends in nothing being accomplished. This is followed the next year very naturally by a sullen determination to return the compliment, not only on the field but also in the convention. These disputes, this ill-feeling, this idea that victory even meanly won, is well won, are real troubles which must be guarded against. They are practical signs of a partial disappearance of the line which ought to separate professional from college athletics, and the origin of them is largely due to the existence of intercollegiate leagues.

No quack medicine in the shape of edicts against what the world calls “professionals,” will stop this tendency. Such attempts remind one of the nobleman who, because his son was nightly attacked by the nightmare, hung all the old women, so-called witches, in his neighborhood, instead of regulating the boy’s evening diet. Nor can the trouble be prevented by abolishing all intercollegiate contests. Such a remedy would be like cutting off a man’s hand in order to extract a splinter. This plan was proposed last spring in an eccentric report presented by a majority of the committee on athletics appointed by the board of overseers, but, nipped in the bud by its own apparent weakness, it was suffered to pass quietly out of sight. The Faculty, however, aroused by the fresh importance attached to the subject, appointed a committee to investigate thoroughly the entire athletic question; statistics were collected having reference to the general standing in college of athletic men, and the effect of athletic sports upon the colleges as a whole; and the conclusion reached was that, although several abuses still exist, they are greatly overestimated; that the physical standard of undergraduates has been greatly raised since the general introduction of athletics; that as a usual thing the rank of athletic men is higher than the average, and the report ended by recommending the authorities at once to secure fresh land for new athletic ground, and to build an addition to the gymnasium. This report representing—as concerns athletics—the most conservative college in the country, practically puts an end to the opposition to athletics as a factor in college life, and recognizes the fact that college intercollegiate contests will and ought to retain a permanent and important position in the college world.

Now that the Harvard authorities have at last given official recognition of the importance and permanency of college athletics, it is all the more important that these evils arising from intercollegiate leagues should be driven out of existence. The quickest and only thorough way of effecting this is for Harvard to withdraw from all intercollegiate leagues, and to confine her annual championship contests to Yale alone. There are many other reasons besides those given in this article why Harvard’s position in intercollegiate leagues acts as a drag upon her true interests; increased expenses both in training and traveling attendant upon so many championship contests; the longer time necessarily spent in preparation for matches not important in themselves, but which lost by accident would impair the chances of winning the championship; the element of chance in determining the winner of the intercollegiate track athletic games, ever increasing with the admission of so many smaller colleges which have no hope of ever securing first place. The only solution of the present athletic problem for Harvard is a withdrawal from the intercollegiate leagues. As the case now stands, in most branches of athletics the contest eventually narrows itself down to one final effort between Yale and Harvard. There is everything to gain and nothing to lose by the change. The idea is rapidly gaining ground at Cambridge: a free discussion of it in the college papers has only added new converts. Dissolution from all athletic leagues, practice games against the best teams in the country, and championship games with Yale alone, would cure many of the evils which seem to have attached themselves to Harvard athletics.

NOTE.—The illustrations of the different groups of athletic, football, baseball, lacrosse, and other teams in this series of articles on college athletics, are from photographs by Pach Brothers, of 841 Broadway.

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