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n, '37 











Chairman, American Intercollegiate 
Football Rules Committee 

With Illustrations 



Copyright, 1926, 

All rights reserved 
Published October, 1926 












Chairman, American Intercollegiate Football Rules Committee 

THE writer of this book tells me "that he has written 
it primarily for the schoolboys of America. He 
has done well to keep them uppermost in his mind,, 
for they had no truer and no more understanding 
friend than Walter Camp. 

As a boy himself, he was just naturally all boy, 
a typical American boy full of spirit and dash, keen 
for play and competition, and reveling in whole- 
some sport and contest. As a man, he never lost 
the boy's point of view. His interest in boys was 
unbounded, and his understanding of them was as 
sympathetic as it was complete. The schoolboys 
of America have for years regarded Walter Camp 
as their great friend. They will continue to do so 
for years to come, and they have a right to. For 
he has not only given them the greatest of all their 
sports, American Rugby Football, but has taught 
them how to play it, and how to keep fit. He has 
pointed out how these battles of the gridiron help 
to develop the qualities so essential to success in 
later life. 


Above all, he has taught them by both spoken 
and written word., by precept and example, the 
finest ideals of American sportsmanship. 

The American boy who has not read Danny 
Fists by Walter Camp has missed as much as the 
English boy who has failed to read Tom Brown s 

The Sportsmanship Brotherhood defines the true 
sportsman as one who : 

Plays the game for his side ; 

Keeps to the rules ; 

Keeps a stout heart in defeat ; 

Keeps faith with his comrades ; 

Keeps himself fit ; 

Keeps his temper ; 

Keeps modest in victory ; 

Keeps a sound soul ? a clean mind, and a healthy 

I have never known a man who exemplified the 
sportsman's code better than Camp. 

In almost a lifelong association with him I 
never heard him speak unkindly either of or to 
another person and I cannot imagine Walter Camp 
doing a mean act. More than once I have seen 
him face the bitterest disappointment with a smile 
on his face that was a joy to see and with a fortitude 
that was literally inspiring. Time and again I 
have watched him and marvelled as he held his 
temper under conditions that would have tested 
the temper of a saint. His fairness toward those 


whose views he opposed and his consideration for 
the feelings of others were never failing. 

He was the hard-fighting., clean-hitting, straight- 
shooting type of a sportsman that commands 
the respect and admiration of his opponents and 
the affection of his comrades. 

The American schoolboy will welcome this 
book as his own. He will be a better sportsman 
for having read it and he will be a better citizen. 
He will become better acquainted with his great 
and good friend Walter Camp who for generations 
to come will be remembered as one of the finest of 
America's sportsmen. 




BALL . . . . . . 3 











ON THE SIDE LINES . . . Frontispiece 

THE DAILY DOZEN ..... 234 



THIS man surely said to himself in boyhood, as 
most boys have said before him : "I have only one 
life to lead, and I want to get out of it as much fun 
and as many rewards as I can." 

If he took stock of himself in a mirror, and 
what boy has not, he saw a tall, loosely knit, 
slender boy, with no marked muscular develop- 
ment nor depth of chest, but with a pair of exceed- 
ingly bright and even burning dark eyes. Nobody 
who ever looked Walter Camp in the face can for- 
get those eyes. Men with eyes like that are rare, and 
they indicate a spirit that commands other men. 

But before Walter Camp could command others, 
he had to learn to command himself. He had 
great advantages. His mental equipment was far 
above the ordinary. He had a superbly controlled 
memory there was never a time in his life when 
he would fail to repeat accurately any poem that 
struck his fancy, or the substance of any impor- 
tant letter or conversation. A powerful memory 
gives its possessor a tremendous start toward all 
creative thinking. Upon such a foundation it is 
easy to build new ideas. Camp observed a great 
deal, remembered it all, and constantly revolved 
the "useful parts of it in his mind. He did not doze 


or dream. He was either wide awake or sound 
asleep. And when, perhaps fifty-five years ago, 
he started to take stock of himself, he no doubt 
thought like this : 

"'There is no fortune waiting for me. If I want 
more money than I can earn from a weekly salary, 
I shall have to make it. I am not naturally strong. 
My arm has no bulging muscle. My neck, wrists, 
chest, and calves are all slimmer than in most boys 
of my age. If I am to excel in sports, I must build 
myself up, and cultivate speed and agility." 

He went to work so quietly at this process of 
building himself up that even his best chums in 
school the boys who have since become Mr. 
Julian W. Curtiss and Mr. Walter Jennings 
cannot recall precisely what it was he did. I once 
asked him. He admitted, smilingly, that he was 
an undermuscled, gawky boy. He said he had 
planned a few body-building exercises for himself, 
but he did not describe them definitely. He could 
be more definite than most men when he cared to 
be, so it was clear that he did not wish to talk in 
detail about those personal things. That was 
another characteristic of him. Few distinguished 
men ever went through life, in modern America, 
with such sparse use of the first person singular 

But I have a very clear picture of what he must 
have done. As a school-teacher's son, his parents 
had no money to give him for visits to western 


ranches, or for the long sea voyages that were once 
regularly prescribed for underdeveloped boys. 
Walter Camp must have had his own private gym- 
nasium in his small bedroom in his parents' home. 
He must have bent forward and back and sideways,, 
patiently, half a hundred times each morning. He 
must have risen dozens of times a day on his toes, 
before the steel-like tendons in his legs gave him 
the superb power and balance that marked his 
football running later on. He must have inhaled 
deeply and regularly, before that thin chest of his 
became deep. He took long runs on the roads 
around New Haven. Physical development is not 
a gift. It comes because a man has worked for it, 
somehow. Theodore Roosevelt paid the price for 
it in one way, Walter Camp in another, Abraham 
Lincoln and George Washington in still another. 
Lincoln owed his powerful body to his early days 
as an axe-man and pioneer. Washington devel- 
oped his magnificent physique by breaking new 
trails in the wilderness. It makes no difference 
which powerful man you call to mind behind 
them all is some kind of physical training and some 
memory of regular daily exercise in the formative 
years. No man develops strong muscles and 
tendons by sitting at a desk and wishing for 

Walter Camp used to grin appreciatively at the 
stories told in the biographies of famous Ameri- 


"Look at James J. Hill," he said, " a great grizzly 
bear of a man who gained his enormous physical 
strength in railroad construction camps. Look at 
the man who founded the Vanderbilt family, a 
sailboat man., accustomed to hoisting sail and hand- 
ling the tiller in any weather, as part of his ferry 
business. Collis P. Huntington was a farm hand. 
Marshall Field grew up on a farm. All were 
accustomed to hard outdoor labor of some kind, 
and thus had advantages denied to many of our 
younger men to-day. The sons and grandsons of 
men like these are city born and bred. Body- 
building toil has gone out of their lives/' 

Camp, himself, was reared in a home full of com- 
fort if not of luxury. He never did any manual 
labor except household chores. His mother, 
among her other housewifely talents, was a famous 
baker of chocolate cake. But Walter could always 
refuse a second helping, just as in manhood he could 
always refuse a cigarette or a second chocolate 
eclair. He was always, eternally, training himself 
and rejoicing quietly in every physical victory he 
won. He learned to get much more fun out of 
self-denial than out of indulgence. Those six or 
seven strokes in a round of golf by which, at sixty- 
five, he regularly beat men of forty and fifty, were 
far more satisfactory to him than the six or seven 
cigarettes he paid for them. 

He was a born competitor, a man who delighted 
to win. Too many people slack- wittedly imagine 


the true sportsman to be "a good loser/' The 
true sportsman is, of course, preeminently a good 
winner ; a man who disdains all small and crooked 
tricks, but who spares no pains to achieve victory 
by all honorable means, including, most of all, a 
thorough preparation. Walter Camp never went 
into a match of any kind, nor let any team he 
coached go into a match, without having done 
everything legitimately possible to assure victory. 
No detail was too small for him. He became the 
kind of golfer who will diligently practise a single 
stroke until he masters it on a golf course if 
possible, or in the back garden if no golf course is 
available, or on the hearthrug if there is no back 
garden. No detail in any game was too small for 
Camp. If one less cocktail on Friday even- 
ing means one less stroke in a round of golf on 
the following Saturday, Camp was the kind of 
man who cheerfully leaves that cocktail in the 
shaker. Camp had always a little more wind, a 
little less fat, than his opponent; his eye was 
a little clearer and his hand a little steadier. That 
little is often the difference between victory and 

So our first picture of Walter Camp is that of a 
boy trying patiently to build a slim body to fighting 
pitch. He attended a splendid school, Hopkins 
Grammar, in New Haven. This school is older 
than Yale College. Its students were a corps 
d* elite. Fathers sent their boys there from many 


other cities. There were no dormitories. The 
boys lived in rooming houses all over town. Think 
of that, you fathers who have come to regard the 
magnificent dormitories at such modern schools as 
Exeter, or Hotchkiss, or St. George's, or Middle- 
sex, as mere necessities, for your sons. Walter Jen- 
nings remembers how his father took him to New 
Haven, found him a room in a boarding house, and 
left him with the parting admonition to be good 
and not get into trouble. Whether a fourteen- 
year-old boy could be trusted nowadays to bear 
himself with discretion in a strange city, under sim- 
ilar circumstances, is a matter of opinion. The 
Hopkins boys managed to do it. It is to the credit 
of the spirit of Hopkins School and of its principal, 
Dr. Samuel Johnson, that the numerous opportu- 
nities for dissipation were not accepted. While 
Camp was in school, William L. Gushing, an old 
Yale oarsman, became head master. The boys 
adored him, and the discipline of the school was 
strengthened by his example. 

Walter Camp lived in his parents' home. He 
respected his school-teacher father, from whom he 
inherited his keen intellect, but he was not sub- 
jected to sharp parental discipline. He could have 
lounged around street corners at night, had he 
wished, and smoked cigarettes and drunk beer. 
But he did not choose. He was a competitor, 
through and through. He wanted to excel at both 
studies and sports. Take studies first. Here is 



the standing of his class at Hopkins, for the month 
ending February 24, 1874: 

James M. Hoppin . 5.00 
Waldo Hutchins, Jr. . 5.00 

Wilson C. Wheeler . 5.00 

Walter Camp . . 4.86 

Charles P. Wurts Jr. 4.85 

Wm. P. Hotchkiss . 4.79 

Colin M. McKenzie 4.75 

Henry Hine . . . 4.74 

John A. March . . 4.72 

Edward W. Knevals 4.69 

Frank EL Wheeler . 4.58 

William G. Daggett 4.57 

Fred BL Benton . . 4.52 

Walter Hall . . . 4.48 

Edward Graves . . 4.46 

Walter Jenrfings . . 4.40 

Alfred E. Hooker . 4.36 

Frank A. Kellogg . 4.30 

Charles F. Bliss . . 4.17 

Willis Banner . . 4.12 

George J. Augur . 3.99 

Rufus Waple . . . 3.99 

William H. Moseley 3.83 

Charles A. Baker . 3.75 

Oliver W. Dye . . 3.75 

S. Charles Metzger . 3.65 

George P. Fisher . 3.46 

Wilson H. Clark . 3.40 

Stewart Sumner . . 3.39 

John E. Brainard . 3.31 

James Degnan . . 3.15 

Edgar S. Porter . . 2.97 

Edward H. Genung 2.36 

Ten months later, as shown by the report pub- 
lished on December i, 1874,, there was no appre- 
ciable difference. Hoppin, Hutchins, and Wheeler 
were still leading the class, each with a miraculous, 
perfect record. Lawrence Wilkinson, a new boy, 
had 4.92. Walter Camp followed with an improved 
standing of 4.87. The other thirty-four boys in 
the class were rated below him. 

And, if you pass over a year and look at the class 
record on December 14, 1875, when the boys were 
seniors, you will find Camp ranked sixth in a class 
now totaling thirty-five boys. Evidently, he was 



not then and was not going to be the kind of 
athlete who takes a certain warped satisfaction in 
poor scholastic marks. There have been too many 
such boys in our schools and colleges. In the days 
when college football players prided themselves on 
their toughness it was unfashionable to have, or 
at least, to seem to have, any brain at all. 
Grinds, or polers, or digs, as they are variously 
called at the colleges, are seldom popular men. 
This is because they have overdone the appearance 
of being students, as much as football men used to 
overdo the appearance of being toughs. But there 
has come about, in the past fifteen years, a revalua- 
tion of brains and mental earnestness. The news- 
paper sports writers have helped, by m'aking it 
clear to boys everywhere that a professional base- 
ball player like Rogers Hornsby for instance, or Ty 
Cobb, or Eddie Collins, is valuable to his team not 
because he is tough, but because he is intelligent. 
Such a man has brains, sharpens them by study 
and observation, and uses them in every game. 
He is a "smart" player. So in football have such 
modern players as Friedman and Dooley and Buell 
and Richeson come to be appreciated by the spec- 
tators, and by "boys everywhere, because they are 
first of all intelligent. Dooley, the Dartmouth 
quarterback, actually dared to write and publish 
poetry of serious lyrical value, even though he was 
also making the most remarkable forward passes 
ever seen on any field. These two things are not 


incompatible. Thirty years ago they would have 
been thought so. The idea that a great halfback 
could have attained and held a scholastic rating of 
better than 85 per cent would have been regarded 
by most undergraduates as preposterous. They 
would have preferred to think of the halfback as 
a lazy, jovial halfwit a man who could hardly 
write his name, and who never read so much as the 
front page of a newspaper. 

All that has changed for the better, and the col- 
lege athlete of to-day if he has any regard for 
popularity carefully avoids seeming to be either 
a rowdy or a dunce. Walter Camp was fifty years 
ahead of his time in that respect. Men who went 
to school with him remember him as an earnest stu- 
dent. His geniality was natural and not assumed. 
It would have been impossible to regard him as a 
dig ; but his schoolmates had every reason to know 
that he labored faithfully at his books. Each of 
them remembers another significant thing about 
him. He was the only boy at Hopkins who had a 
football, and who delighted in kicking it around 
at recess time. At eleven o'clock each morning, 
Camp was the first boy to rush out on the play- 
ground, with an old round black rubber football 
in his hands. 

Put one thing firmly out of your mind any 
lingering memory you may have of Tom Brown's 
School-Days. That great book describes school- 
boy life in England so well that it almost seems to 


describe schoolboy life everywhere. Rugby, by 
the middle of the past century,, was the home of 
football. It was played strenuously under con- 
sistent rules. The great match of the year was 
the School House against the rest of the school. 
Under a different set of rules it was played at Eton. 
But those were English schools, and to imagine 
that football was also played in American schools 
Is to imagine that we also played cricket and fives. 
The great American game at that time was base- 
ball, and it was practically the only American 
game- Outdoor sports at Hopkins Grammar 
School, for instance, were simple and not "organ- 
ized." The present ideas about coaches, and suc- 
cessful seasons, and athletic policies, were unknown. 
Baseball and running races were about all the sports 
the boys had. However, Yale was not far from 
Hopkins, and in Yale, all through the seventies, the 
seeds of modern intercollegiate athletic competi- 
tion were germinating fast. The Hopkins boys of 
those days still remember how they looked up to 
the Yale oarsmen and baseball players, and hoped 
to be numbered among them in their turn. 

Many a Yale undergraduate, strolling home 
from the diamond or the boathouse, must have 
looked casually at the Hopkins boys as they played 
ball on their own grounds. In the mind of such 
an Olympian these young chaps were hardly worth 
a thought. There 's a natural baseball player, 
though that lithe young fellow^ Curtiss. So 



perhaps- ruminated one of the Yale athletes, look- 
ing over the street at the Hopkins lads as they 
played their quarrelsome and Informal game, un~ 
/supervised by any teacher or coach. 

But what about that thin, tall boy of fourteen 
with the round black rubber ball? Did anyone 
nay him the tribute of a glance, as he stood a little 
fi] apart from the scrub baseball game, kicking his 
ball high and trying to lure Curtiss or Jennings into 
kicking it back again ? Football in America was 
an outlaw game, a sort of town game, old and dis- 
reputable. Twenty or thirty boys and men, crav- 
ing hard exercise and a free-for-all fight or rush, 
' \ might kick a football around, and even try to rush 
through another mob of equal size and motley- 
ness. There was a football team at Yale and at 
A some of the other colleges ; and the Canadians were 
-Becoming proficient at the game, under English 
f/lrules. But the game was not in favor at most 
" ' American colleges, and few people cared to see it 
Baseball and rowing and running were 
gentlemen's games. 
/ Pass on, Yale undergraduate, and do not give the 
.schoolboy with the round black rubber ball another 
^J thought. All he is doing is planting a seed which, 
before you are dead, will have blossomed into a 
hundred immense bowls and stadiums ; will have 
i begun to pay all the expenses of all the other college 
^ sports ; will have made even college baseball into 
^Virtually a minor sport; will be attracting millions 


of spectators on every Saturday of every autumn ; 
and will have set any schoolboy's heart pounding 
at the slightest chance to see Edgar Poe play, or 
Edward Mahan, or Ben Friedman,, or Red Grange. 
This is what Walter Camp is preparing for 
America but he does not realize it himself. 
He is wondering, audibly, why some of his mates 
won't quit baseball for a few minutes and help him 
kick his old black rubber ball around. 



THE outlines of Walter Camp's life are so simple 
that they can be given in thirty lines. He was 
born in New Haven on April 7, 1859. His parents 
were Leverett L. Camp and Ellen Cornwall Camp. 
His earliest American ancestor was Nicholas Camp > 
who came to this country in 1630 from County 
Essex, in England, landing at Salem, Massachu- 
setts, and afterward settling in Milford, Con- 

Walter Camp played football and other games 
with distinction at Yale for six years. From 1877 
until 1925, when he died, he was a member of every 
football rules committee and convention. He 
married Alice Graham Sumner and was the father 
of two children, Walter and Janet. He rose from 
clerk to president and chairman of the New Haven 
Clock Company. When Hopkins Grammar School 
was reorganized, he was elected to its Board of 
Trustees. During the World War he was chair- 
man of the Athletic Department, United States 
Navy Commission on Training Camp Activities. 
He found time also to serve on several municipal 
commissions, to write more than twenty novels, 
histories, and books on sports, to edit the "Out- 
door America" department in Collier's Weekly > 


and to invent and promote the Daily Dozen sys- 
tem of exercise. In addition he was for thirty years 
the outstanding football legislator and coach in 
America, helping his college to make a winning 
record that has never been equaled, and to establish 
football as the most successful among all college 
games. He will be remembered as the father of 
American football. 

So much for an outline- Like all other outlines 
now so popular, it is almost worthless unless you 
fill the blank spaces inside the contours. You will 
observe, for instance, that he won his great national 
reputation without ever changing his residence 
from the small city in which he was born. Walter 
Camp stayed in his home town, sure that the world 
would in time come and find him there. The last 
thing he ever wanted was ease and comfort. He 
wanted to face the arena and make himself con- 
spicuous in it. He wanted success, and he was will- 
ing to pay its price. But he believed, unlike a 
majority of equally ambitious men, that the best 
place in which to win the game of life is on the home 

If you would like a mental photograph by 
which to remember Walter Camp, you will find 
it in this paragraph from the preliminary notes 
he wrote for the brilliant little book of practical 
philosophy (not of calisthenics) called The Daily 
Dozen y on which he was working when he 
died : 


When we call a boy a thoroughbred., we know he is 
a boy who is high-spirited, plucky, courageous, and 
strong. Every boy wants to be the type that is de- 
scribed by these expressions. To make himself fit, he 
must follow the precepts of health and of morality. 
Every boy is eager to stand well with his fellows, to be 
an aid to his team in its sports, to be an individual 
champion, to play fair and to play well. These things 
are possible under a course of care and self-discipline 
not difficult of attainment by any youth. 

But the significant sentences follow this general 
statement; the sentences in which Camp uncon- 
sciously described himself : 

If, however, a boy has the wish to excel, he takes on 
a contract which involves patience, self-control, per- 
sistence, and hard work. No boy or man ever made 
himself a leader in sports, or in life, without doing a 
great deal of hard work which at times seemed to be 
drudgery. No one comes to the top without making 
certain sacrifices. It is not an easy road, but it is an 
eminently satisfactory road, because it leads to the 
desired end. 

These words are not the finished draft, but are the 
tincture or quintessence of the book that was to 
come. They are Camp himself, musing on the 
careers he had observed and on his own career. 
There is no sentimentality in them, no careless 
optimism. They have the same grim quality that 
you find in the writings of Robert Louis Stevenson, 


at his best. Camp had none of the magic of words 
that was Stevenson's, but he had the same convic- 
tion that the human spirit is always challenging 
fate., and all jioo often failing to make the challenge 
good because it is too weak or too reckless to pay 
the price of victory. 

Camp was not among the men who say., like 
Theodore Roosevelt, "I Ve had a bully time." 
He had a very hard time before life began to run 
smoothly for him, and he remembered all about 
it the bumps and bangs he received in football 
practice., the self-imposed torture of cross-country 
running before he was good enough to win a place 
in the quarter-mile run, the burden of captaining 
a college team before that team was disciplined 
enough to win its big games, the hardships of rigid 
personal economy before he went to his wife, near 
the end of his life, and told her that her own future 
was financially secure. He was no favorite child 
of fortune. But through all his difficulties he had 
in full measure "the wish to excel." And he rated 
his own capacity highly; he knew that life has 
minor rewards for the smaller men, but he did not 
care about them for himself. I take another para- 
graph from his writings. It is headed "Happi- 
ness," and reads : 

How does happiness come? What path does she 
tread ? How may we catch this elusive creature ? 
The preparation for the chase requires training. The 
chances for success lie largely in having good health. 


A sick man has no time to think of anything except 
his own condition. A well man "rejoiceth as a strong 
man to run a race/' Each one of us may have a dif- 
ferent picture of happiness. The golfer who has never 
been under no strokes finishes a round, it may be, in 
99 strokes. He is happy, but the 99 strokes that 
brought him happiness would be gall and wormwood 
to the scratch player. A tennis player who has never 
before survived the early rounds comes up to the finals 
and takes the runner-up's prize. And that prize makes 
him happy, even though he finds himself outclassed by 
the champion. The man who has no luck all his life 
in his investments wakes up some morning to find that 
a stock he had supposed worthless is suddenly running 
up in leaps and bounds, and his holdings in it may make 
him free from money troubles again. And he is happy. 
An unexpected public honor may bring happiness to 
one, a relief from harassing cares may bring it to an- 
other. Someone has said that mere freedom from intol- 
erable pain is the happiness of the aged ; but this would 
mean nothing to the youth who does not know pain. 
His must be an active, not a passive happiness. His 
must be success, victory. And these can come only 
through health and work beforehand. 

Nothing is more characteristic of Camp than the 
wish to excel. He entered Yale College in Sep- 
tember 1876, and went out promptly for a place 
on the famous football team of which Eugene V. 
Baker was captain. For three years Yale had 
played Association football with some minor modi- 
fications, but in the autumn of 1876 the first call 


had been sounded for a new, modern form of foot- 
ball. Princeton issued a call for a meeting. Yale, 
Harvard, and Columbia answered this call, and 
their representatives met with those of Princeton at 
the old Massasoit House in Springfield, Massachu- 
setts. The Rugby Union rules in modified form 
were adopted, an intercollegiate football associa- 
tion formed, and a schedule of games prepared. 
Baker went back to form a Yale varsity team. 

When Camp presented himself as a candidate, 
he was gaining in height and strength, but was not 
by any means rugged. His value to the team lay, 
apparently, in his speed and his hard-won ability 
to kick the ball. Football reputations, like those 
won in other pursuits, often come in unexpected 
ways. Camp was not pugnacious. But you will 
find that his first success came from a rough-and- 
tumble fight on the field. 

In the Harvard game in 1876, a fully mature 
Harvard player, bearded and brawny and strong, 
bore down on Walter Camp under the impression 
that Camp had the ball. As he was not in posses- 
sion of it, the tackle should not have been made. 
But it was made. And Camp and the Harvard 
man engaged, then and there, in a private wrestling 
match on the field. They heaved and hauled, and 
at last, to everyone's astonishment, Camp threw his 
burly opponent and pinned his shoulders down. 
Camp was soon thereafter made a member of the 
Yale wrestling team. 


Recalling Camp at this time, Walter Jennings 
says that he was "tall, slender, and light; nobody 
thought he would ever be robust. But he had 
taken long runs around New Haven in the even- 
ing, and he had both speed and stamina. He 
lacked natural ability for sports,, but his real love 
of them carried him through." 

Football was his first love, and all his life it re- 
mained his true love among sports. But he played 
on the Yale baseball team as outfielder, shortstop,, 
and relief pitcher ; he appeared on the cinder path 
in the dashes and hurdles, and was credited with 
an improvement in the steps taken between the 
hurdles ; he rowed in his class crew, won swimming 
races at various distances, and represented Yale 
in the first intercollegiate tennis tournament. A 
pleasant side of his character is found in the state- 
ment of Dr. Samuel W. Lambert that his success 
in games never made him aloof or proud ; he was 
always ready to play in a scrub game of any kind, 
or to box or row or wrestle with men who did these 
things merely for exercise and recreation. 

But for six years, through the college and the 
medical school years. Camp helped to make mod- 
ern football, and football helped to make him. 
In his sophomore year, 1877, he first attended an 
intercollegiate football convention as a delegate 
from Yale, so beginning the long association with 
the legislative side of the game, which was to con- 
tinue with no pause until he died, forty-eight years 


later, during the sessions of the Football Rules 
Committee in New York. 

To give Camp's career as a player,, game by 
game., would be impossible within the limits of this 
book. The game itself has changed so vastly that 
the stories of these old games, as the players tell 
them,, are almost incomprehensible to a boy or 
man who plays football now, or watches it. Meas- 
ured by scores alone., it is interesting to note 
that Camp played in five football games against 
Harvard,, of which Yale won four and tied one. 
Camp's field goal won the game in 1880, along 
with a touchdown scored by R. W. Watson. But 
you cannot measure Camp's ability as a kicker 
against that of Brickley,, for example, because the 
men of those days kicked under such widely dif- 
ferent conditions. There was no centre to pass 
the ball> no scrimmage of the modern kind ; there 
were no signals, as we now understand them. 
Under modern rules, the kicker may take a pot 
shot at the goal with almost as much detachment 
as if he were a rifleman aiming at a target. He 
may come into the game when called on, and kick 
or miss the goal with only the smallest chance of 
any physical contact whatever. The men of 
Camp's day were expected to play through two 
forty-five-minute halves, and on a longer field. 
They were obliged to pick up the ball from the 
ground,, dodge or outrun their opponents, and 
often to kick while running at speed. Camp grew 


expert at this difficult feat. It is curious that two 
of the greatest disappointments of his playing 
career sprang from his perfect performance of it. 

In the Harvard game of 1878; played in Boston^ 
Yale stopped a Harvard advance almost on Yale's 
goal line. Camp and Watson carried the ball, in 
alternating rushes, to the centre of the field. 
There Camp broke free for a longer run, and finally 
evaded the entire Harvard team except one man. 
As this man bore down on him, Camp still ran at 
speed until, thirty-five yards away from the touch 
line, he suddenly checked himself and delivered a 
drop-kick which shot the ball high over the ladder's 
head. While the ball was spinning through the 
air, the whistle blew to end the game. Under 
the rules then in effect, Camp's magnificent effort 
went for nothing. The ball flew over the goal 
posts less than one second too late. 

This thirty-five yard kick, executed while making 
a long run, was matched by Camp in the Harvard 
game of the following year. Just before the end 
of the first half, Camp undertook a long kick. The 
ball rose above the Harvard players who tried to 
intercept it, sailed straight for the goal, and slid 
over the posts after a flight of more than forty-five 
yards. But Bland Ballard of Princeton, referee 
in this game, had discovered a Yale player holding 
his opponent. He called back the ball, and Camp's 
mighty kick had no value. Had it been allowed, 
it would have won the game which was the 


only game tied by Harvard while Camp was in a 
Yale uniform. 

Two more heavy disappointments should be 
mentioned, for fear it might be thought that Camp 
was one of those players who do not know the feel- 
ing of failure. On the contrary, football's most 
thorough historian, Parke H. Davis, of Princeton, 
declares that "no player in the history of the game 
ever contended against greater misfortunes in his 
scoring plays than did Walter Camp/' One .of 
these "catastrophes," as Mr. Davis calls them, 
befell Walter Camp in the Princeton game in 1 877. 
The rules were then in embryo, and the methods 
of scoring were especially in dispute. Columbia, 
Harvard, and Princeton had agreed that four 
touchdowns should equal in value one goal from 
the field. Yale did not agree, and met Princeton 
on the field after a conference at which it was de- 
cided that touchdowns should have no scoring 
value at all. Yale's players urged this decision 
and succeeded unfortunately for themselves 
in having it carried. For, not long after the game 
started, a long and low kick sent the ball squarely 
into Camp's arms. He caught it, and side-stepped 
and dodged through the whole Princeton team, 
running eighty yards for a touchdown. This play, 
which would now score five points, only gave Yale 
the right to a free kick at goal. The kick failed. 

Camp had another opportunity in the second half 
of the same game. He secured the ball, this time, 


from' the old "scrum" formation, and again eluded 
all opponents until, after a forty-yard run, he was 
almost at the Princeton touch line. It is reported 
that McNair, Minor,, and Clark of Princeton 
tackled him all at once, or nearly so. He fell, 
twisted himself free, rose, and plunged over the 
line. But again the try for goal was unsuccessful. 

Thus in a single game Camp had scored two 
touchdowns, after two runs hardly ever equaled in 
length and brilliancy By a single player in a game 
against good opponents. But his efforts went for 
nothing, and the game ended in a tie. 

As a player, Camp came through these vicissi- 
tudes with his head held high. And later, as chief 
strategist for Yale, he met other bitter disappoint- 
ments in the same sportsmanlike way, accepting 
with good grace the referee's decision on plays that 
took victory away from Yale. For instance, 
there will be described in its proper place a close 
decision by William S. Langford that helped Har- 
vard to win its most unexpected victory in recent 
years. Camp accepted that decision with true 
sportsmanship, even writing to Langford to con- 
gratulate him on his work in that game. "You," 
he wrote to the official, "were in a position to see." 

Sportsmanship was so much a part of Camp's 
character that it remains the thing by which he is 
chiefly known. It is for this reason that I have 
tried to emphasize the sternly competitive side of 
his character the wish to excel. He was not 


among those flabby people who can accept defeat 
cheerfully because they have not set their hearts 
on victory. 

And there was nothing flabby about the games 
in which he played. They were primitive, but 
hard. The football field on which Camp began 
his active career was 140 yards in length and 70 
yards wide. The Harvard Advocate, in its report of 
the Yale-Harvard game in 1876,, states unex- 
pectedly that "the two teams presented a very 
pretty appearance in their bright new uniforms." 
But it goes on to say that "pieces of clothesline 
supplied the place of crossbars. There was only a 
faint streak of lime to mark the touch lines. Dis- 
putes among the players began immediately and 
were kept up during the game. The most fla- 
grant abuse of the rules was interference when off 

There were no pads in the uniforms in those 
days, no headgear except knitted caps. In 
the Harvard game in 1881 at New Haven, as 
Thomas C. Thacher of Harvard remembers it, a 
cold and driving rain soon wet the lightly clad 
players to the skin. But after the forty-five 
minutes of the first half the players lay on the field 
or walked around to keep as warm as they could ; 
there were no dressing-rooms, no chance for rub- 
downs or dry clothes. And in all the records of 
these games you find the word, "brutality." It 
was on this account that the Harvard faculty abol- 


ished football at Harvard in 1885, an d reinstated 
it only after long discussions in the following 
year. Brutality took the form of stand-up fights 
between the players, and of jumping upon a pros- 
trate opponent in the hope of crippling him. With- 
out the severe and quickly applied penalties for 
needless roughness which Walter Camp imposed 
in the course of football legislation during the next 
two decades, football would by now have become 
outlawed among sportsmen. 

A little of the flavor of the old-time games comes 
back to us through the mist of the yeafs that lie 
between. Men ran hard through the two long 
halves; they accepted bad injuries with almost 
Indian stoicism, for there were no substitutes and 
the original players often stayed on the field long 
after they should have been in the hospital ; they 
mixed it up with their fists, in the absence of rules 
that prevented such struggles; and they were 
often torn apart by the referee and their fellow 
players, only to stay in the game and mix it up 
again. Through it all you may see the thin and 
wiry figure of Walter Camp, protecting himself 
against attacks but not initiating them, and always 
ready for a long run or a long kick then, as now, 
the two great scoring weapons of the game. He 
could kick, pass, and run. He would have made 
a "triple- threat" man of the first magnitude in 
the modern game. 

Sportsmanship begets sportsmanship. It flour- 


ishes wherever a man consistently displays it. 
Walter Camp was once asked what incident in his 
playing career had been the happiest. He did 
not remember some hard-won victory on the field., 
or some brilliant play of his own. He said that 
the brightest moment of all had come in one of the 
years when he was captain at Yale. The other 
players seriously objected to his decision that a 
player who had broken training rules must be 
dropped from the team* 

"They told me/' he said, "that this man had 
learned his lesson, and must be reinstated for the 
good of the team. I knew that he could not be 
trusted, and that I had given him every opportu- 
nity to deserve confidence. I did not make a hasty 
decision, and I felt that it must be obeyed. We 
had a very hot argument, and I resigned the cap- 
taincy and left the room. I wanted to play in the 
coming game, but I did not believe I could give 
my best efforts in behalf of a team with the mem- 
bers of which I was in such radical disagreement. 
I spent a very bad night, asking myself if I was 
doing the right thing, or merely giving way to the 
spirit of revenge in which case, I would be both 
hurting myself and hurting Yale. The happiest 
moment in my college days came soon afterward, 
when the men returned and told me that they 
knew my motives were right, that my decision 
should stand, and that I was to become their cap- 
tain again." 


Graduating from this harcTschool of experience, 
Walter Camp found his college days exceptionally 
pleasant. The diaries of his classmates are full of 
pleasant references to him. In one such diary his 
name occurs on nearly every page. There are 
glimpses of him playing many games ; and we find 
him sometimes, as a freshman, leaving a party of 
classmates to walk out and see the varsity baseball 
team practise, or to undertake some of his own 
private exercises, like the long, conditioning runs 
which he had accomplished in school. He played 
cards assiduously and skillfully, though with little 
interest in the money side of such games ; his 
allowance was extremely small. But he liked 
the stretching of wits that is part of a card game. 
He wrote a great deal of doggerel, and some of it, 
after practice, became good and flowing verse. 
He studied hard, but not too hard for companion- 
ship. He was elected to a senior society, and was 
in every way one of the most popular men of his 
time. His strong interest in anatomy made the 
choice of medicine and surgery an entirely natural 
one, although even now, some of his closest friends 
wonder why he did not go into finance. "He 
would have made a shrewd and useful dealer 
in securities," says his closest associate in busi- 
ness, "and he might have created the same re- 
forms in the Stock Exchange that he did in 
football." But this did not happen. He entered 
the Yale Medical School, and studied faithfully 


for two years. Then a very strange thing hap- 

Meeting his friend, Walter Jennings, on a 
summer day in New York, Walter Carnp remarked 
that he had left the Medical School and was looking 
for a chance in business. 

"You are joking/' said Jennings. "You can't 
be serious. Why, you are practically a doctor 
now. And you will be a wonderfully good doctor. 
You can't mean to throw it up after all your 

"But I do," returned Camp. 

"Is there any good reason ?" 

"The fact is," said Walter Camp, "that I can't 
bear the sight of blood." 

If you have any picture of him as a hard or cal- 
lous man, who was attracted to football by its re- 
semblance to war, by its toughness, this little story 
will be revealing. We can admit that football is 
the hardest game that the human mind ever in- 
vented. It is bloody enough to-day, and it was 
bloodier in 1882. Walter Camp had fought his 
way to success in that game, taking punishment 
and giving it. He had forced himself to work in 
the dissection room at the Medical School, to watch 
operations, and to learn to operate. But the real 
gentleness of his nature made this work repugnant 
to him. One can imagine him winning very high 
honors as a physician or surgeon. He had the 
charm of manner, the keen love of research, and 


the exceedingly systematic habits of mind and 
body which make a great doctor. 

His entrance into the Medical School was per- 
haps the only serious decision in his life which he 
came afterward to regret. He could not force his 
spirit to accept what he found there. Having 
decided that he had made a mistake, he left the 
school with the knowledge that he had wasted two 
years of his life. It is true that his medical train- 
ing helped him a little in his work in later life, but 
only a little. He might have studied physiology at 
any time, without taking the other courses required 
of a medical student. 

You will gain a new impression of Camp's gen- 
tleness by remembering that he could not bear the 
sight of blood. 



had a patent on football/' says Frederick 
Trevor Hill. "It was Camp's game, and he 
made up the rules as he went along. Under such 
conditions, it was almost impossible to beat 

These conditions were not brought about, how- 
ever, without hard effort on the part of Camp. In 
the first place, as a young man in business, with no 
private income, he had no time to give football his 
full attention during the mornings and afternoons 
of each day. He had to find and he did find 
someone who could patiently collaborate with him. 
The discovery of this person was, beyond doubt, 
the most astonishing good fortune of his whole 

In the second place, Camp was obliged to dom- 
inate the minds of all other football men, most of 
whom represented other colleges and were natu- 
rally anxious to play under rules of their own and to 
beat Yale. 

Camp's success came from the fact that he was 
observant and logical on the field, and diplomatic 
in the committee room. He was usually the first 
of the football legislators to know what should be 
done. But he was not the first to give his opinion. 


He could sit quietly through meetings of any 
length, until, in despair of reaching an agreement, 
one of the other men would say : 

"Well, let us see what Walter thinks about it," 

At such a moment, Walter Camp was always 
ready with a clear and logical opinion, which sel- 
dom failed of adoption. He judged the trend of 
the game just as a business man judges the trend 
of the market. He spoke so confidently, when 
the time was ripe, that his decisions and sugges- 
tions seemed boldly original, simply because other 
men had not seen with equal penetration the 
growth of circumstances. 

He was no doubt the first American athletic 
coach who kept a notebook. In fact, he began to 
keep one while he was still at school, and he never 
outgrew its use. Watching a football play, or 
taking part in it himself, he saw the possibilities of 
improved tactics by noting down the actions of the 
players, and the way in which they were distrib- 
uted to meet attack, or grouped and moved to help 
the carrier of the ball. 

All these observations,' no matter how inconclu- 
sive, were entered in Camp's book. After the 
games he studied his notes, and with their help 
devised new ways of advancing the ball and new 
formations for defense. Thanks to this systematic 
observation, no thoughts were forgotten and no 
inspiration escaped him. He was not particularly 
inventive. He could depend on no sudden inspira- 


tion. But if he was not boldly original, he was at 
least methodically sure. He amassed more infor- 
mation than any other player or coach,, and he 
studied his notes from one end of the year to the 
other, wringing from them the sound ideas which 
made him eminent as football player, coach, and 

"I try/' he said, "to keep one jump ahead/' 

There is an interesting proof of his ability to 
keep a little ahead of an opponent in the story of a 
Yale-Princeton baseball game played in 1880 at 
New York. Camp was a good batter, with a sure 
eye and a well-controlled swing. But he was not 
famous as a maker of long hits. It surprised 
everyone when he made a home run off the first 
ball pitched to him* 

Coming to bat again. Camp rightly decided that 
the Princeton pitcher would not expect him to 
swing hard at the first ball. Lightning is supposed 
not to strike twice in the same place. But Camp 
did swing hard at the first ball., and made a second 
home run. 

Later in the game, he faced the pitcher for the 
third time. There was an interesting, if silent, 
battle of wits between the two men. Camp 
rightly thought that the pitcher would like to 
waste the first ball, by pitching it so far from the 
plate that Camp could not touch it. But that 
would show fear of the batter. It might unsettle 
the other Princeton men. It was reasonable to 


suppose that the pitcher would make a desperate 
effort to pitch a strike, over the plate. The 
pitcher's mind worked exactly as Camp thought 
it would. The first ball came over the plate. 
Camp swung at it with confidence., and knocked 
out a third home run. 

This record is probably unique in baseball 
records: three pitched balls., three home runs. 
Camp had outguessed the pitcher., and had main- 
tained himself one jump ahead. He had made his 
natural skill doubly strong by supporting it with 
his unsleeping mind. In his fourteen baseball 
games against Harvard, he made seventeen hits. 
This is not a great batting record, nor did Camp 
regard himself as more than a fair batsman. Of 
these fourteen games, seven were won by each 
side. The season of 1880 was the most successful 
of them. Tn that year Camp, In left field, formed 
with Wilbur Parker at third base, George Clark at 
right field, and William F. Hutchinson at short- 
stop, a quartette which has seldom been surpassed 
in college baseball. Hutchinson, as some of his 
classmates recall, would have been Yale's regular 
pitcher if there had been a catcher capable of 
holding him. But he pitched In battiijg practice, 
and Parker said later: "After the pitching Hut- 
chinson gave us in practice, whatever the other 
pitchers could offer looked like balloons." But 
Yale had great pitchers before then ; for Instance, 
on May 26, 1877, C F. Carter pitched for Yale 


and dismissed Harvard without either a hit or a 

Such details will convince young readers that 
baseball has changed much less than football. 
Mann of Princeton and Avery of Yale were 
pitching curve balls as early as 1875. Catcher's 
mitts were used a year or two later, and F. W. 
Thayer of Harvard invented the catcher's mask 
in 1877. Baseball uniforms were similar to those 
worn now, and the general strategy of the game 
was the same. Football has changed much more. 
Only the halfbacks and fullbacks retain the same 
name, and their duties are very different. The 
field is shorter and narrower, and is marked out 
with lines that are responsible for the name, "grid- 
iron/ 7 Camp never heard that name in his college 
days, though he was to invent the type of game 
that made it necessary. These changes in foot- 
ball will be discussed in their proper order. Mean- 
while, remember that baseball has changed very 
little in spirit, and football has changed much. 
The direction of baseball is in professional hands. 
It was certain, even in Camp's college days, that 
the public would support professional baseball. 
It is not certain, even now, that professional foot- 
ball will win such support. Football is still basic- 
ally an amateur game, played in a sportsmanlike 
spirit. If there seems to you to be more chivalry 
in football than in baseball, you may correctly 
ascribe it to the influence of Walter Camp. 


Take, for instance, the one detail of squabbling 
with the officials. It is very much alive in profes- 
sional baseball ; it may come to life in professional 
football, but it is no part of amateur football. A 
story of Camp's own early career will help to give 
the reason. 

In the season of 1885, Walter Camp was chosen 
by Princeton to be the referee in the Yale- 
Princeton game. It was an extraordinary honor 
for Camp, a Yale graduate, an intense Yale sym- 
pathizer, and the chief adviser of the Yale football 
team. But the hope of Princeton for a victory was 
safe in his hands. Princeton's team was a power- 
ful one, and its most powerful player was H. C 

During 6 the season, Lamar made consistent long 
runs against Princeton's opponents. F. T. Hill, 
visiting Princeton at the request of the Yale coach, 
reported that these runs always took place from 
a certain formation, and that, in a manner of 
speaking, they could be stopped before they 
started. This information was well used in Yale's 
preparation for the game. Lamar was stopped. 
And before the game was very old H. Beecher, the 
Yale quarterback, caught a punt, close to the side 
of the field. He set off at full speed toward 
Princeton's goal, slipped like an eel through the 
fingers of the whole opposing team, and appar- 
ently scored a touchdown. But Camp called him 
back. He ruled that Beecher had stepped out of 


bounds at the start of his magnificent run, and 
that the ball was down at that point. 

Later, by extraordinary irony, Camp had to 
make a similarly close decision. All through the 
game, the great Princeton back had been held to a 
standstill. It had been a dismal afternoon for 
him. And, with the last moments of the game 
slipping away, Yale had the ball, and the chance 
of a Princeton victory seemed impossible. But 
then Yale punted down, the field and not to 
Lamar. It was a superb kick by G. A. Watkinson, 
long and high and well placed. The Princeton 
quarterback got under it, raising his arms for the 
catch. The ball struck him on the chest, re- 
bounded, and flew across the field into Lamar's 
hands. He seized it, and was off down the side 
line like a flash. One of the greatest football 
runners who ever lived, he had his chance now. 
The Yale forwards streamed toward him, too late. 
W. T. Bull of the Yale backfield and Watkinson 
raced toward the side line, hoping to tackle Lamar 
or to force him out of bounds. With the white 
side line perilously close to his feet as he sped 
forward, Lamar dashed past Walter Camp, the 

"In that instant," said Walter Camp whimsi- 
cally to Hill, "I exercised the hardest bit of self- 
control in my life. Lamar thundered by within a 
yard of me. If I had stuck out my foot " 

He did not stick out his foot. He turned, and 


ran with Lamar toward the Yale goal. A few 
yards farther along, Lamar had to twist and turn 
to dodge Watkinson and Bull. Then he was over 
the line, and touching down the ball, after a des- 
perate race nearly the whole length of the field,, 
and only a stride or two ahead of F. G. Peters, cap- 
tain of Yale. 

Instantly a protest was made. It was thought 
that Lamar,, like Beecher in the earlier play,, had 
stepped out of bounds. Camp ruled that he had 
not. It was a touchdown. A less honest, less 
scrupulous man would have remembered that he 
had deprived Yale of one touchdown and would 
now seek to balance it by depriving Princeton of 
another. But Camp stood fast. Reaching his 
judgment with absolute honesty, he was neverthe- 
less so full of desire to see Yale win the game that 
he had recognized his urge to trip or tackle Lamar. 
The urge was human enough. But in all matters 
of honesty and of sportsmanship, Camp was more 
than merely human. He allowed Lamar's long 
run to stand ; and the touchdown which came as a 
result of it won the game for Princeton. 

It was no wonder that, in the following year, 
Harvard's captain, W. A. Brooks, asked Camp to 
referee the Yale-Harvard game. Sportsmanship 
appeals to sportsmen, and Harvard knew that 
there would be absolute fairness at the hands of 
Walter Camp. That game, incidentally, resulted 
in a comfortable victory for Yale by 29-4, with 


two touchdowns by Beecher and five goals kicked 
by Watkinson helping to take away the sting of 
defeat by Princeton in the year before. 

Camp was not, however, in favor of allowing any 
college graduate to act as an official in a game in 
which his own college was concerned. This prac- 
tice has long ago disappeared. But it is fair to 
say that, while it endured., Camp did more than 
any man to prove that a true sportsman cannot be 
challenged, even while he is serving as umpire or 
referee. Baseball umpires are often called " rob- 
bers." Football officials never are. 

You can draw your own opinion of the value to 
Yale of having a sportsman of Camp's quality on 
Yale Field during football practice. Camp him- 
self had little idea of his own value in this respect. 
He knew he was an able coach., but he did not 
realize fully that he was a Chevalier Bayard a 
man almost unrivaled in purity of motive. He 
could not teach dirty football. He was an example 
of clean, fair play. I am excluding from this book 
many of the paragraphs which Camp wrote about 
the beneficial effects on the character of football 
training. He measured other men by himself, 
and did not see how they fell short. Many a 
coach has taught young football players to slug and 
to hold, to resort to any kind of dirty trick when 
there was little chance of detection. Camp knew 
that these things were taught, but he did not 
know how often they were taught His praise of 


football is sometimes too high, for this reason alone. 
It can be, and usually is nowadays, a fair^ clean 
fight; but it is not right to suppose that every 
boy who has played it 'has been morally benefited 
as a result. 

Although he made his debut as a football legis- 
lator in his second year at college, it is of Camp as a 
football coach that one should speak first. It is 
the queerest part of his whole career, measured by 
ordinary standards. There are no other coaches 
like Camp. His work was done, nearly all of it, 
in the small parlor of his house on Gill Street. He 
was in active business, and had but little time for 
coaching on the field. The visible and audible 
part of his coaching was done after dark, and in 
his home. Of course, there were few hours in the 
year when Camp was not thinking about football. 
But he taught it at his own fireside. He was 
working hard to support his family. His free hours 
were not in the early afternoons, when football 
practice is on. He could not go regularly to Yale 
Field. He needed another pair of eyes, as sharp as 
his own ; another keen, retentive memory upon 
which the events of each day's practice could be 
stamped photographically for him to consider in 
the evenings; and another real set of football 
brains, against which his own intelligence might 

He found all these qualities in his wife. 

I am aware, as I write, that it is almost impos- 


sible for anyone who did not know Mr. and Mrs. 
Camp to believe these words ; but you will confirm 
the truth by talking with men who went to the 
modest house on Gill Street, and heard Mrs. Camp 
report the day's doings at Yale Field to her hus- 
band and discuss them with him so clearly that he 
could understand and use them. There are in any 
profession few such partnerships between husband 
and wife. As a young girl, moreover, Mrs. Camp 
had not been interested in athletics. She was 
born into a keenly intellectual family. William 
Graham Sumner, who became one of the greatest 
professors ever associated with Yale or any other 
university, was her brother. It was possible for 
Professor Sumner, in his lectures on sociology, to 
carry his undergraduates far out of the ordinary 
world of the classroom, and give them a sudden, 
breath-taking vision of the origins and of the 
future of mankind. Alice Graham Sumner may 
not have dreamed, in girlhood, that her own intel- 
lectual interests were not to be literary or humani- 
tarian. She was a potential novelist or sociologist. 
Marrying Walter Camp, she made his interests 
her interests. Intellectually his equal, she became 
his helpmate in even the chosen sphere of his own 

The Camp family approached that ideal rela- 
tionship where husband and wife are one. 
Without Mrs. Camp's help, Walter Camp would 
have had no career as football coach and rule- 


maker. He would have gone to the games, like 
any ordinary alumnus, but he would have known 
no more about football itself than do the casual 
spectators. Through the devoted cooperation of 
Mrs. Camp, he was able to become a successful 
business man and a football authority too. His 
first interest was the support of his family. 
Thanks to his wife, he could go to his office every 
afternoon, and still know exactly what was hap- 
pening on Yale Field. 

He was always, by force of circumstances, more 
a coach of Yale's coaches than of Yale's players. 
But the players themselves, the very best of them, 
came to the little house on Gill Street. Heffel- 
finger was often there, and the furniture would be 
pushed back to let him learn-, or demonstrate, some 
new idea in a linesman's play. Year after year 
the faces of these visitors changed, and it is not 
necessary to name them here. One of the most 
teachable and he has since proved himself an 
excellent teacher was T. A. D. Jones. 

"Camp coached through the coaches," remarked 
Jones. "In my time as a player, he seldom took 
an active part on the field. He came and watched, 
and when he thought that an end, for instance, 
could play better by changing his style, Camp 
would go to the coach of the ends and suggest how 
the improvement could be made. He had no more 
authoritative position than treasurer of the Yale 
Athletic Association, but his advice had authority 


because it was good advice. The practice then was 
to have the former year's captain return as head 
coach. Other old players came up to coach, and 
Camp, by serving every year as adviser, gave unity 
and continuity to these shifting assistants. Be- 
tween the halves. Camp would suggest to the head 
coach or captain what he had noticed in the first 
period and give advice on meeting the situation. 
Exhortations of the style commonly given in 
locker rooms were not his way. He spoke quietly 
to individual players, but did not make orations 
before or during or after a game." 

The extraordinary effectiveness of this habit of 
speaking quietly to individuals is well illustrated 
in a story told by C. J. La Roche, who was a more 
or less obscure candidate for quarterback, a year 
or two before the war. Camp was no longer chief 
strategist for Yale, but he came to the field occa- 
sionally. La Roche made a long run in one of 
the early games, and repeated it in practice one 

"Immediately/' he said, "I became aware of 
the two most luminous and gleaming eyes I have 
ever seen in a man's face. I was almost paralyzed 
when I realized that Walter Camp was looking at 
me and speaking to me. It was like being ad- 
dressed by a god. He showed me a certain way 
to shift my weight, while running, that he felt 
would be useful to me. I was dazed by the look 
in his eyes, but I had just sense enough to re- 


member what he had shown me, and to profit by 

It was by such methods, although he probably 
never knew that he startled the young players so 
much, that Camp was able to teach the things that 
he knew. La Roche went on to have a thoroughly 
satisfactory season. Of all the hours and hours 
of intensive coaching which he received, he remem- 
bers best that little minute with Walter Camp. 

The home life of the Camps was necessarily 
very simple. Dollars were few. Camp had 
chosen a business the manufacture of clocks 
in which the demand is fairly stable, but the profits 
are not large, nor is there much opportunity for 
speculation. He used to advise young men to 
manufacture staple articles, which are never 
entirely unwanted, even during hard times. His 
business progress was slow. The New Haven 
Clock Company was a very old concern, in which 
young men started at the bottom and often stayed 
there. Camp saw that his own promotions would 
not be rapid. He felt satisfied if his income in- 
creased regularly a few hundred dollars a year 
during these early seasons of his business life. 

For the call of the field was in his ears. He 
found that he made friends most easily with people 
who were genuinely interested in sport. Mr. and 
Mrs. Lorin F. Deland were ideal friends for the 
Camps, although they were not Yale football 
sympathizers at all. In fact, as head coach at 


Harvard, Delancfs chief purpose was to score 
victories over Yale teams. It seemed strange to 
people blinded by partisanship that, in private 
life, he and Camp were warm friends. But 
Deiand was a graceful essayist, and the father of 
all modern advertising that has some literary 
value. Camp had been class poet at Yale, and 
was trying his hand at novels and other books. 
Margaret Deiand was to become the beloved 
author of Old Chester Tales and Dr. Lavendar's 
People. Mrs. Camp had her own strong intellec- 
tual heritage. A common love of football brought 
Camp and Deiand together as irresistibly as iron 
is drawn to a magnet. Their literary tastes ce- 
mented their union still more firmly. In one year, 
when Yale and Harvard had abandoned their 
annual game after much mutual recrimination, 
Camp and Deiand improved the occasion by sit- 
ting down together to write the first complete 
book on football. From an intensely partisan 
standpoint, they should have been glowering at 
each other from New Haven and Boston, respec- 
tively. But they were both sportsmen, and both 
men of the world. They knew that the breach 
would be healed, and Yale and Harvard would 
renew their old rivalry. The book called Football 
came out in 1896 over their joint signatures. It 
contains much good writing, and much good foot- 
ball too. The army of readers of Mrs. Deland's 
novels, so far removed in spirit and feeling from 


football, would be astonished to learn that she drew 
the fifty-one pictures for it; but they remain, to 
this day, as proof that she contributed her bit to 
the Improvement of football. 

Although Camp and Deland were such successful 
collaborators, they were keen rivals too. Camp 
took Infinite pleasure In foiling D eland's original 
plays. Deland would have been equally delighted 
if he had ever succeeded In piercing Camp's defen- 
sive tactics. He was very near it when he In- 
vented the famous flying wedge. This peculiar, 
human battering ram was expected to drive 
through the Yale defense like a fifteen-Inch shell 
through a wooden fence. It was tried for the first 
time., after careful preparation in secret, at the 
Yale-Harvard game in 1892. It was not an un- 
qualified success. The fact is clear, however, that 
the wedge rammed forward, the first time It was 
tried, from the centre of the field to Yale's 2,5-yard 
line. And it became the father of a whole flock 
of so-called "momentum plays," which lasted for 
many years and were only defeated in the long 
run by legislation against them. Deland was a 
bolder innovator than Camp, but Camp's teams 
beat Deland's teams, and the Harvard man was 
not a person to sit and suffer without making 
inquiries. He even asked a former Yale football 
captain to explain Camp's methods. 

"Well," said this man, "when we want to know 
how the Yale team is doing at any time, we don't 


go to the newspapers to find out. It makes little 

to us what the players are doing; we 

want to know what the coaches are doing. If 

they are going up to Walter's every night, then we 

that the team is going to be a good one/' 

But there were times when Camp could come 
down on the field like a thunderbolt. There were 
times when he forgot his role of keeping behind the 
scenes, and went into action in a way that perma- 
nently influenced the man on whom his displeasure 
fell. He had a grim streak in his make-up, and a 
vein of biting humor. He kept it under. But 
sometimes it broke through his surface calm. 

One afternoon a huge freshman, with a pair of 
enormous shoulders, big hands, and a chin to 
match, reported for practice with the Yale squad. 
He tackled in deadly fashion, and smashed inter- 
ference in a way that left it smashed. But the 
varsity quarterback soon found, in a practice game, 
that by sending his runner farther out to the side 
the ball could be carried easily around the freshman 
recruit at end. For some time, Walter Camp 
watched this man charging blindly into the scrim- 
mage where the scrimmage was thickest. 

"That won't do," he said to him, after the game 
ended. "The business of a football end is like 
that of the troops on the wing of an army. He 
must not be outflanked. As long as the runner 
can get between you and the side line, you are 
worthless to your team/' 


The big man only grunted,, disdaining the ad- 
vice. And on the following days he made the 
same mistake, until the field coaches regarded him 
as unteachable. 

Camp finally told some workmen to move a few 
timbers to the side line. Then he took the big 
freshman to see the work. 

"You know how dogs are often exercised at 
kennels/' he said, quietly. "I want to help you 
make the team, so I have borrowed the idea. A 
wire will be run along the top of these posts. Then 
this chain will be shackled to your belt, and will 
slide along the wire so that you can run up and 
down the field just six feet from the side line. 
Then the runner can't get around you." 

The player lost all his surliness. He saw the 
workmen rigging the wire. He looked into Camp's 
steady dark eye. 

"Take that thing down/' he gulped. "I get the 

He got the idea so well that no gains were ever 
again made around his end, during the four years 
he played for Yale. 


BOYS of to-day are often eager to know about old- 
time football. They ask, "What was it like?" 
There is no better answer than is given by Parke 
H. Davis in his " Fifty Years of Intercollegiate 
Football," which I quote by permission from the 
1926 edition of Spalding's Official Football Guide. 

"The first man in the line was called the c end 
rush/ " writes Mr. Davis. "The second man was 
at first designated as the 'next to end/ the third 
as the 'next to centre/ and the fourth, of course, 
as the c centre.* It quickly was noticed that the 
"next to end' made more tackles than any other 
man, and so he came to be known as the f tackier,' 
a name later changed to "tackle/ Similarly, it 
was noticed that the "next to centre' guarded the 
c centre' by bracing him, so he came to be called 
the %uard/ ... In the old Rugby f scrum 'neither 
side had possession of the ball ; it came haphazard 
out of scrimmage to whichever side could capture 
it. Another feature of the early game, which is 
remembered with humor, was the system of officials. 
These consisted of an umpire for each side, with a 
referee to decide disagreements between the um- 
pires. The two umpires discharged their duties 
like an opposing pair of football lawyers. In fact, 


they frequently were chosen more for their argu- 
mentative abilities than for their knowledge of the 

"The tactics of the times made the play essen- 
tially a kicking game. The backs kicked punts,, 
drop kicks,, and place kicks. Even the 'mshers/ 
or forwards, also kicked the ball when opportunity 
arose. Not only was the ball kicked as at present, 
but it was kicked,, and cleverly kicked, while bounc- 
ing upon the ground. An accurate drop -kicker 
to-day is a valuable possession for any eleven, but 
where in recent years has appeared such a spec- 
tacular performer as Alexander Moffatt of Prince- 
ton, who kicked thirty-two field goals in fifteen 
games, having kicked no less than six drops against 
Pennsylvania in 1883 ? 

"The game was opened, as now, by a kick-off. 
The player of 1880 might, if he chose, drive the 
ball far down the field. Or, technically kicking 
the ball by merely touching it with his toe, he 
might pick it up and run with it. Players when 
tackled invariably endeavored to pass the ball 
back to another member of their side for a further 
advance, a method of play so highly developed 
that it was not infrequent to see a ball passed as 
many as five times during a single play." 

Supplementing Mr. Davis's remarks, it may be 
permissible to add that football is still played in 
much the same way in England, and that English 
players regard our American game as inferior to 


theirs in pleasure for the participants. But soccer 
is an infinitely more popular game abroad than 
Rugby football Rugby football lacks decisive- 
ness. A team does not profit sufficiently, as a 
team 3 by ability to hold on to the ball and follow 
one advance with another. Rugby football is full 
of kaleidoscopic action, but it has not the driving, 
force or the sustained dramatic action of Ameri- 
can football. In this chapter we shall see how 
our game was made, and why Walter Camp may 
properly be called its father. 

Camp's first appearance at a football convention 
was in his junior year at Yale. He startled the 
meeting of the delegates at the Massasoit House, 
in Springfield, on October 9, 1878, by recom- 
mending that the number of players be reduced 
from fifteen to eleven* This resolution was de- 
feated. Camp presented it again in the following 
year, and again it failed* In that year he also 
proposed that "safeties" the plays in which the 
ball is carried by a team behind its own goal line - 
be declared scoring plays and be given a value 
adverse to the team which made them. This plan 
was also, for the time being, rejected by the dele- 
gates. But in the year that followed, Camp 
studied the game and waited. The convention in 
Springfield;, on October 12, 1880, brought a three- 
fold victory for Camp. 

It was his contention that the old-fashioned 
scrum was nothing but a scramble. The ball was 


set down on the field,, and both teams clustered 
around it, with all the rushers kicking at the ball 
and trying to drive it free from the forest of legs 
all around It. This seemed to Camp an absurd 
and disorderly way to start play. Neither side 
could practise strategy, because neither knew 
when, or at what point, the ball would come out of 
the scrum. This uncertainty was only slightly 
removed by a crude form of tactics in which cer- 
tain players became skilled in squeezing the ball 
under their feet to make it leap out in a desired 
direction. But this was difficult and unreliable. 
Camp declared that the game needed sharp revision ; 
that it should be a game of brains, not of chance. 
He maintained that neither the players nor the 
public would be interested in the game unless it 
became orderly. Football., to his mind, was not 
alone a clash of bodies, nor a running race. It 
needed finesse, generalship, consistent and con- 
tinued strategy. These were not possible from 
such a scramble as the scrum formation. 

If a well-planned attack were to be possible, 
and the finer elements of the tactics were to come 
into the game. Camp declared that it was necessary 
to give one side -undisputed possession of the ball, 
with leave to hold it as long as systematic advances 
were made. Only the failure to make consistent 
gains ought to defeat a team. Simple luck should 
not be allowed to upset an otherwise able offensive. 
Camp pressed this point. It had weight. The 


understood that, if it were not accepted, 
football would not become a popular sport. Camp 
had sufficient prestige, by this year, to demand 
fair play and a fair chance for all. He broke new 
ground with the invention of the scrimmage. He 
planned to give possession of the ball to one side, 
permitting this team to put it into play without 
interference by opponents. This still remains 
the greatest single difference between Rugby foot- 
ball and American football, and it was Walter 
Camp's invention. 

At the football convention in 1880 were W. H. 
Manning and T. C. Thacher, representing Har- 
vard ; E. S. Peace and Francis Loney for Prince- 
ton ; Robert W. Watson and W. B. Hill for Yale. 
Before proposing the scrimmage. Camp presented 
Ms twice rejected resolution to reduce the number 
of players to eleven on each team. This time it 
was carried. Then Camp presented the following 
rule, which he had prepared : 

A scrimmage takes place when the holder of the ball 
puts it on the ground before him, and puts it into play 
either by kicking the ball, or by snapping it back with 
his foot. 

Some years were to pass before, by gradual evo- 
>n, the present method of putting the ball into 
play with the hands was arrived at. At first the 
snapper-back used his foot. Later he placed one 
hand on the ball to guide it. 


This scrimmage proposal caused a lively debate, 
but it was accepted without a dissenting vote. It 
was frankly a step into the dark. No one among 
the delegates could know, nor could Camp tell 
them, what the consequence might be. 

As part of the same rule establishing the scrim- 
mage, Camp invented the position of quarterback, 
by prescribing that "the man who first receives 
the ball from the snap-back shall be called the 
quarterback, and shall not rush forward with the 
ball under penalty of foul/* 

Modern football, with its consistent strategy, 
began at the conference in 1880. All that has come 
since is a logical development. The teams were 
reduced to eleven men, the scrimmage was pro- 
vided for, and the key position on the team, the 
quarterback, was established. The signals now 
called by the quarterback, the different way in 
which the ball is passed to the runners, the varia- 
tions of team offense and defense, are all natural 
outgrowths of Camp's innovations. While still an 
undergraduate at Yale, he had originated the 
eleven, the scrimmage, and the quarterback 
three inventions which of themselves alone would 
have won him a place in football's Hall of Fame. 
But he did not stop. He applied himself, as did 
every other coach and captain,* to find out what 
could be done under the new rules he had framed. 

Each captain went back from that conference 
with an entirely new set of problems. How were 


the eleven men to be arranged ? Harvard lined up 
with seven rushers, one fullback, and three half- 
backs, who took turns acting as quarterback. 
Princeton appeared on the field with six players on 
the line, one quarterback, two fullbacks, and two 
halfbacks, Walter Camp deployed the Yale team 
with seven men on the line, and four in the back- 
field ; one quarterback, two halfbacks, and one full- 
back. This proved the best formation, and be- 
came standard. Camp's competitive genius here 
asserted itself against the competition of other 
strategists. His formation proved itself the most 
flexible of the three, allowing a greater variety of 
plays to be run. It was logical, when the quarter- 
back had been invented, for that player to become 
the field general of the team. The ball came to 
him first from the centre. The use of signals to 
inform the team what play was to be used with- 
out at the same time informing the adversaries 
was also a logical development, which Walter 
Camp was first to recognize and first to use. The 
code of signals given to Yale was ludicrously sim- 
ple, providing for only four plays. The signals 
were not numerals, as at present, but short sen- 
tences. Each entire sentence indicated a play, 
the omission of one word, and then another, serving 
to hide the meaning. Thus, the sentence, "Look 
out quick, Deac," or any word from it, meant in 
Camp's code : "Twombley will start the next play 
to the right, ball being passed to Peters/* And 


the sentence, "Play up sharp,. Charley/' or any 
part of it, would indicate that the ball would be 
passed through quarterback to W. Terry for a run 
to the left. These were simple signals, but per- 
haps just as effective as the intricate mathematical 
symbols used nowadays, sometimes misunderstood 
in the moment of greatest need by a weary team. 

But Camp's one outstanding invention was the 
scrimmage. Some of his friends regard it as the 
greatest single invention that has been made in any 
game during the memory of man. For Camp practi- 
cally invented American football when he invented 
it. The number of players does not matter very 
much. The size of the field and the distance to 
be gained in three downs or four downs. Is a detail. 
But the scrimmage is the cardinal, essential feature 
of the game. 

Oddly enough, it had immediate results which 
were as unexpected as they were absurd. In fact 
they threatened to make football so dull that 
nobody could bear to look at it, much less to play it. 
It will be noticed that the scrimmage rule, as 
quoted above, gives the ball into undisputed pos- 
session of one side. But it does not take the ball 
away from that side. Unless a fumble or a kick 
occurs, the side which has the ball, under this rule, 
can hang on to it forever. Camp had assumed, 
when he framed the rule, that the old practice of 
constant punting would continue, and that the 
ball would therefore change hands very often. 


But E. S. Peace of Princeton, who had helped to put 
the rule into effect, and his colleague, P. T. Bryan, 
another Princeton strategist, studied the rule and 
found the flaw in it. Carefully and systematically 
they developed, behind closed gates, Princeton's 
attack against Yale. But when the game was 
played they discovered that Walter Camp had 
drilled Yale in a similar attack just like their own. 

From any sporting standpoint, that game was 
unutterably silly. Princeton's turn came first. 
Winning the toss, the Princeton team took the ball 
and never relinquished it throughout the first half. 
The game was dreary before it was ten minutes old. 
Play after play failed to gain, but still Princeton 
held the ball. Fourth down was followed by four- 
teenth down and fortieth down although, of 
course, downs were not counted under those rules. 
At last the intermission carne. It was hoped that 
Yale might brighten up the play during the second 
half. But Walter Camp started the half by drib- 
bling the ball and then running with it. Yale's 
ball. It was still Yale's ball, on practically the 
same spot, when the half ended, forty-five minutes 

If it had been Walter Camp's purpose in invent- 
ing the scrimmage to permit continuous strategy, 
he must have been startled by this result. Prince- 
ton had the entire first half in which to develop 
her strategy, and the Yale team enjoyed the same 
unbroken opportunity throughout the second half. 


But from the grandstands the game was ridiculous, 
and it was no better for the men on the field, after 
heaving and hauling for a whole afternoon with 
such a deplorable lack of results. There was a 
clamor in the newspapers. Yale was still techni- 
cally champion of the association, because under 
the rules, in event of a tie, the championship rested 
with the previous year's winner. But Walter 
Camp came forward quickly for Yale, with the fol- 
lowing rule, presented to the football convention 
at its next session : 

If on three consecutive fairs and downs a team shall 
not have advanced the ball five yards, nor lost ten, 
they must give up the ball to the opponents at the spot 
of the fourth down. 

This rule required the five-yard line marks on 
the playing field, from which came the name of 
"gridiron," now so familiar. And from this rule, 
too, came the phrase "yards to gain, another con- 
tribution to the phraseology of the game. 

In practice, however, even this requirement was 
found to be an insufficient improvement. Teams, 
rather than lose possession of the ball when their 
advance was halted, resorted to deliberate tactical 
retreats, and by retiring ten yards gained a new 
opportunity to re-launch their attack. In this 
way a kick, with its surrender of the ball, could 
be avoided for a long time. The result was not 
much different from the earlier "block game 3 * 


which the regulation had been designed to prevent, 
and football again was threatened with disfavor, 
More important, however, from Camp's point of 
view, was the unfairness of the strategy. It en- 
abled a weaker team to hold the bail by deliberate 
retreats, and so to deny Its opponents their rightful 
chance to prove their superior worth. Camp hated 
unfairness. He warred against the possibility 
that an able opponent might be deprived of well- 
earned victory through anything except the clearly- 
demonstrated strength of its rivals. He did not 
want the football rules to become a refuge for 
weaklings. He dreaded inconclusive games, be- 
cause he knew that the fun of a contest lies in the 
fun of a victory* 

In legislating, remember that what a gentleman 
wants is fair play and the best man to win [he wrote]. 
When it is possible without losing sight of this, to legis- 
late for Improvements In methods, so much the better ; 
but primarily make every rule such that the probability 
of unfinished, drawn, or disputed contests is reduced 
to a minimum. 

Thereupon, when the so-called "five-or-ten- 
yard rule" had been shown to be inadequate, he 
helped to give It new effectiveness by increasing 
the length of an enforced retreat to twenty yards. 
The advantage of strategic retirements was thus 
eliminated, more frequent punts were necessary, 
and the game was automatically made more 


"open/' to the increased advantage of players and 
spectators alike. 

But the open character of play was later to be 
lost, inadvertently and through a change in rules 
which had been thought slight, but which had a 
momentous effect. For several years the team 
on the offensive had usually been placed in a far- 
flung line across the playing field, and the ball was 
tossed laterally by the quarterback to put the play 
in motion. This was the "open" game so much 
enjoyed at the time, and so vociferously regretted 
when, by mischance, it was sacrificed. Appar- 
ently, Walter Camp again led in upsetting the 
"open" tactics. It was done by a very simple 
suggestion, which seemed comparatively unim- 
portant. A proposal was made, at a football rules 
convention, that the form of tackling be changed, 
to permit a tackle to be made as low as the knees. 
The proposal was adopted. Until then, the Rugby 
form of tackling, at the shoulders or the waist, had 
been used. 

But now the tackles acquired a new effective- 
ness. It was found that a runner, tackled at the 
knees, was instantly stopped. He could seldom be 
pulled or pushed for additional gain. He was 
thrown in his tracks. The defense was immeasur- 
ably strengthened. A runner in the open field was 
faced with new difficulties in trying to advance 
with the ball, for he could no longer struggle for- 
ward after being tackled by a defensive opponent. 


This shifted the entire character of the play, and 
made open-field running less attractive than it had 
been. The profit was taken away from It, and the 
greater chance of gaining ground was found to be 
in weight-plays. Because a single runner could be 
effectively stopped, coaches developed mass for- 
mations protecting the runners, and driving them 
forward by the sheer momentum of team-mates 
pulling and pushing them on. The players on the 
attacking team, accordingly, were drawn in close 
together,, shoulder to shoulder., and there began 
the mass plays, the heaps of players, the close, con- 
fusing tactics which remained an unattractive 
character of football until the 1905 upheaval 
forced a change. The cause of this extraordinary 
consequence had seemed unimportant simply 
that tackles might be made as low as the knees ; 
but it resulted in the game's most critical phase. 

For, as football grew, it attracted an enormous 
amount of public attention, not always of a favor- 
able sort. It passed through periods when its very 
existence was threatened. The two greatest 
storms were in the early 90*5, and * n 1904-05. 
For the first storm Walter Camp had himself been 
largely responsible- But he was used to bearing 
criticism. Ten years before, he had been involved 
in sharp discussions of the eligibility rules. He 
believed that football should be strictly an amateur 
sport. By its own rough nature, he felt, it was 
more vulnerable to abuse through loosely observed 


standards than any other major sport. Camp 
determined to purge football of professionalism by 
limiting the eligibility of all players in the associa- 
tion. He had made a start at this while he was 
still a graduate "student at Yale. Having been 
elected captain of the Yale baseball team while 
he was in the Medical School., Camp declined to 
accept the honor, on the ground that college teams 
should be led by undergraduates. Subsequently 
he broadened his views, and became an ardent 
supporter of a rule limiting intercollegiate athletics 
to undergraduate students. 

This purpose brought him into sharp conflict 
with the representatives of the other colleges in 
the football association which had been founded at 
the first Springfield convention,, and which was the 
parent of the present Football Rules Committee. 
In 1882, at a convention in Springfield, a rule was 
adopted that "no man shall be allowed in cham- 
pionship games for a longer period than five years." 
Camp had ended his own playing days in the pre- 
ceding year, and had represented Yale for six 
years. But the new regulation found a warm 
champion in him. 

Slowly at first, and then with great impetus, a 
situation was developing that made this ideal im- 
perative. By 1889 the presence of graduate players 
on the teams became such an open abuse that the 
newspapers took notice. In that year, as Parke 
H. Davis has noted in his football histories, the 


prospects of the Princeton and Harvard teams 
were especially discouraging. Many valuable 
players had graduated from both these colleges, 
and it seemed that the teams must be composed 
of inexperienced players. But suddenly the situa- 
tion altered. Two veteran football players be- 
came graduate students at Princeton, and two 
others matriculated there for special studies. At 
Harvard two experienced football men enrolled for 
graduate work, and another became a special stu- 
dent. At Yale, likewise, four veterans reported 
for football practice as members "of the graduate 
schools. Games had already become worth win- 
ning. The teams were worth strengthening. The 
"galaxy of graduates/' as Mr. Davis calls it, was 
a proof of the growing importance of the sport. 
To add more power to the critics who began at once 
to complain about the debasement of the sport, 
there were plentiful rumors that the amateur 
standing of many players was not what it should 
be, and that many graduate players had been in- 
duced by something more lucrative than a graduate 
degree to pursue their higher education. 

At this juncture, Yale and Wesley an where 
Woodrow Wilson was interested in the football 
coaching called for a special meeting to consider 
"certain questions of amateur standing." This 
movement, largely sponsored by Camp and Wilson, 
was strongly supported by the newspapers, and by 
public opinion as well. The game was in great 


danger of becoming corrupt. Politics played 
an important part in the discussions which fol- 

In November 1889 the special convention as- 
sembled at the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New York 
City. Harvard was represented there by EL C. 
Leeds of the class of 1877; Pennsylvania's dele- 
gate was John C. Bell, '84 ; Duncan Edwards, '85, 
and E. A. Poe, '91, spoke for Princeton; F. IX 
Beattys, '85, was Wesley an's representative; and 
Walter Camp, '80, appeared in Yale's behalf. 
Camp almost immediately offered a resolution 
declaring that "no one shall be eligible to take 
part as a player in any championship games of 
this association who is not a bona-fide. student of 
the college on whose team he plays., matriculated 
for the then current year, and regularly pursuing 
a course which requires his attendance upon at 
least five lectures or recitations a week," and stipu- 
lating further that "no professional athlete shall 
take part in any contest of this association, nor 
shall any player of any university or college be 
paid or receive, directly or indirectly, any money 
or financial concession or emolument as present or 
past compensation for, or as a prior consideration 
or inducement to, playing, whether the same be 
received from or paid by or at the instance of the 
football association, athletic committee, or faculty of 
such college or university, or any individual what- 
soever/* The resolution, as Camp presented it, 


provided also an elaborate system for challenging 
players whose eligibility was doubted,, and for 
allowing these players to meet such challenges. 

Despite its formal language, it is well to read 
Camp's resolution carefully. There is no doubt 
that it would have put football on a simon-pure 
amateur basis. The old attack had been on grad- 
uate players husky, bearded men, who had the 
tremendous advantage of being allowed to oppose 
mere boys. But Camp was now shifting the 
attack. Notice the words "or any individual 
whatsoever." This is a thrust at the disguised 
form of professionalism which exists whenever a 
college graduate, wishing for football victory, 
quietly pays the tuition fee or living expenses or 
both either in whole or in part of some for- 
mer schoolboy star, who agrees in return to go to 
the college specified and try for its football team. 
Many a man, reaching into his pocket for this pur- 
pose, has felt that he was benefiting both the boy 
and the college football team. Many a graduate, 
old enough to know better, has seduced an im- 
mature boy by promising him either money or its 
equivalent in receipted bills. And if the resolu- 
tion offered by Camp is ancient history, the abuse 
against which it was directed is still very much 
alive. Writing in the May 27, 1926, issue of The 
Youth's Companion, B. Friedman, quarterback in 
1925 of the University of Michigan team, makes 
this specific comment : 


The high school boy who succeeds in athletics is 
given, as he nears the end of his school career, the grand 
athletic rush. He is the object of attention by college 
graduates., field secretaries^ and the scouts of college 
alumni associations. He is interviewed by men of 
engaging manners, some of them super-salesmen. 
. I will relate what happened to my high school chom 
and myself. We had both done fairly well in school 
sports during our senior year. We were visited by men 
representing colleges. We attended banquets and 
theatre parties all arranged for us by these men. We 
were in a daze. I changed my mind at least twice a 
week. At last a certain college seemed to be the real 
choice. This college was not offering me anything for 
my football ability ! I was to have a scholarship based 
on the grades I would get. If I received all A's, then 
I would be paid $300, and the sum varied according to 
the grades. I was also promised a job. But I finally 
decided to go to Michigan, which was nearer home. 
Michigan offered me no scholarship, and did not even 
promise me a job. I enrolled at Michigan, and secured 
two jobs, working in a bookstore when not attending 
classes in the daytime, and working in the evening at 
a motion picture theatre. ... It was a hard grind, 
and I once became so discouraged that I had my grip 
packed and was on the way to the railroad station, 
when it dawned on me that I was being a quitter of the 
rankest kind. I turned about, went back to my room, 
and returned to my studies. 

During the vacation period I was lucky enough to 
get a good job. I saved up enough money so that in 
my sophomore year I could afford to give up the theatre 


Job. 1 had more opportunity for study and got a great 
deal more sleep. I have been supremely well satisfied, 
i found the university and the kind of studies I wanted. 
1 was fortunate in football. Since I earned every cent 
of what my stay in Michigan cost me, and the money 
came in such a difficult way, I have studied all the 
harder to get a full return on my investment, and I 
have been much happier. 

My chum was not better fixed financially than I was. 
An Eastern college made him a flattering offer. He 
would not have to do any outside work to earn his 
money. All he had to do was walk to the athletic 
office once every month and draw his check. All he 
had to do in return was to play football. He accepted 
the offer. At the end of his first semester, it was dis- 
covered that he lacked the required credits. He and 
I had been prepared in an academic high school, and 
this was a technical college that he found himself en- 
rolled in. He could not continue in athletics, and for 
that matter, he could not continue in college. A 
wealthy alumnus came to his rescue, sending him to a 
preparatory school and paying all his expenses. When 
the tutors had finished their work, he was fitted to 
resume his college duties. By this time he realized his 
grave mistake. He talked it over with me during vaca- 
tion time, and we tried to think of some scheme by 
which he could honorably discharge his obligations to 
the college and leave. He has a keen sense of honor 
and duty. He decided that he was bound to see it 
through. He had taken checks from the college, and 
he owed it his services on the gridiron. The fact that he 
owed these services made football playing a hard task 


to him, and one that he abhorred. His heart has never 
been in the work, and he who should have developed 
into one of the greatest of football stars will never 
come anywhere near the niche he is capable of filling. 
How can he, under the circumstances ? 

When a boy is paid to play college football, neither 
party to the contract gets much out of it. The boy 
will never play his best, so he makes himself a poor 
investment, and he can get no worth-while benefit out 
of the classroom, because he will never be satisfied. 
There is no contentment for such boys. 

One cannot read such a statement without 
realizing Walter Camp's foresight of the true evils 
of professionalism. He knew what storm and 
strife would be aroused by his campaign against 
every form of it. He made the resolution strong, 
leaving no loopholes. He went to the convention 
in 1889 with the hope that the resolution would 
be adopted in full, and it would have been a 
great thing for football and for thousands of 
the boys who have played it if it could have gone 
through. But it was blocked by political manoeu- 

These manoeuvres, which are understandable 
enough if you remember how bitter the competi- 
tive spirit can become, began without loss of time. 
Edwards of Princeton offered an amendment which 
would extend the ban to postgraduate students 
and students in all professional departments. 
This would have disqualified four veteran players 


at Harvard, at Yale, and at Pennsylvania. Leeds 
of Harvard countered by rising to a point of order, 
declaring that the call for the meeting limited the 
business strictly to the consideration of "certain 
questions of amateur standing. 59 The chairman's 
ruling sustained his point. The amendment was 
dropped. Then Bell of Pennsylvania moved the 
adoption of the first part of Walter Camp's reso- 
lution, which required attendance at certain classes 
each week as a test of eligibility for each player. 
The motion was carried. 

Immediately afterward, Leeds rose and with 
great emphasis entered a formal protest against 
fifteen Princeton players, on the ground that the 
new rale disqualified them. Princeton replied at 
once, filing a similar challenge against four Harvard 
players. The meeting abruptly adjourned at this 
point, to allow the challenged players to make 

The next session of the convention found the 
college representatives in something like a panic. 
They had canvassed the situation during the re- 
cess, and had found out what the rule would do 
to each squad of players- The resumption of the 
meeting, after Camp's earnest effort to purify the 
sport had been so dramatically halted by the filing 
of protests, was alertly watched by football en- 
thusiasts and critics. The delegates met behind 
closed doors, while the hotel corridors outside 
were full of newspaper writers, graduates, and 


self-appointed advisers who were not less zealous 
because they had no official standing. This was 
the first great crisis in intercollegiate football. 

A motion was made to table the protest of Har- 
vard against the fifteen Princeton players and the 
retaliatory protest of Princeton against the four 
Harvard men. Princeton and Pennsylvania urged 
that these protests be dropped., and Harvard and 
Yale resisted this solution. Wesleyan, which was 
to meet Pennsylvania later in the year on the foot- 
ball field, hesitated for a short time, and then 
aligned herself with Princeton and Pennsylvania. 
The protests were therefore laid on the table. 
Harvard then formally withdrew from the asso- 
ciation, and the disintegration had begun which 
was later to cause still another crisis in football 

Four years later, Walter Camp was still in tire- 
less pursuit of a strict eligibility rule. He pro- 
posed, in the name of Yale, the resolution which 
became known as the Undergraduate Plan. 
Princeton and Wesleyan and Yale promptly ac- 
cepted it, but the Pennsylvania delegates opposed 
it, and when it was officially adopted the Pennsyl- 
vania membership in the football association was 
withdrawn. Not long afterward Wesleyan also 
withdrew, and only Yale and Princeton remained 
in the association which had first sponsored inter- 
collegiate football and had guided it through its 
wonderful development. Politics had split the 


association, and football was slipping down to a low 
place in public favor. 

To cap the other difficulties, there occurred in 
the early 90*3 a series of bad accidents to players 
during the games* There was an outburst of pub- 
lic indignation. Mr. Davis has probably found 
the most lurid of all the comments that were made 
in the press. He clipped it from the Muenchner 
Nachrickteriy a German newspaper which published 
this dispatch from the United States : 

The football tournament between the teams of Har- 
vard and Yale, recently held in America, had terrible 
results. It turned into an awful butchery. Of twenty- 
two participants, seven were so severely injured that 
they had to be carried from the field in a dying condi- 
tion. One player had his back broken, another lost an 
eye, and a third lost a leg. Both teams appeared upon 
the field with a crowd of ambulances,, surgeons, and 
nurses. Many ladies fainted at the awful cries of the 
injured players. 

This report, grotesque although its exaggera- 
tions seem, was not a bit more highly colored than 
were the remarks made about football by people in 
private life. Many a father and mother expected 
their son to be butchered on the football field, and 
the reports of injuries magnified by their in- 
variable appearance in newspaper headlines only 
confirmed this impression. Boys were sent to 
school and college on condition that they would 


not play football. There were movements to 
abolish football by Act of Congress. Walter Camp 
met the situation sanely, by writing to all former 
players whose addresses he could secure, asking 
them to submit a list of the injuries each man had 
sustained. These replies, carefully tabulated., did 
much to calm the hysterical agitation against the 
game. But where there is smoke there is fire. 
Harvard and Princeton had already ceased meeting 
in football, after mutual recriminations and charges 
of dirty play. Yale and Harvard played a game 
that has- been well described, in polite language, by 
James L. Knox of Harvard. "Yale's brilliant 
moments/' he writes, "were when Stiilman, with 
the game hardly two minutes old, broke through, 
blocked a punt, and fell on the ball for a touch- 
down ; and again, after Thomas failed to kick a goal 
from the field and Harvard punted out of bounds 
at her own six-yard line because of Stillman's pres- 
sure on the kicker, Yale carried the ball across for 
another touchdown. It was not long after Yale had 
scored the first touchdown that Fairchild of Har- 
vard missed a neat goal from the field, only be- 
cause the ball hit the crossbar. On this same play, 
Waters threw Butterworth across the line for an 
unallowed safety. Then, in the very closing seconds 
of the game, Fairchild tried for another goal from 
the field with a perfect kick which scored nothing, 
because the time had elapsed just before the ball 
was put in play. The outstanding feature of the 


was the roughness of ike p/^j y which resulted 
in man after man leaving the field too badly injured 
to return if the rules had permitted it. It did not 
take a great deal of foresight to realize that football 
between Yale and Harvard was a thing of the past, 
and for the somewhat distant future ; and so the 
authorities of the two colleges ruled, with a result 
that all varsity sports between these two great 
rivals ceased after the spring of 1895. A two-year 
break resulted in football." 

It will interest many a man who remembers this 
game, and remembers some of the extraordinary 
brutalities attributed to the men who played in it, 
to read Mr. Knox's restrained summary. Harvard 
men unquestionably believed for years, and many 
of them still believe, that some of the Yale men 
resorted to forms of mayhem that would do credit 
to warfare between Zulu tribes. And this feeling 
was reciprocated in full by Yale sympathizers who 
saw their players injured. Camp himself with all 
his conviction that Yale and Harvard undergrad- 
uates are, first of all, gentlemen, and that dirty 
playing defeats itself, was nevertheless impressed 
by the fact that, under the rules then existing, it 
was impossible to avoid bad blood between the 
players, and serious injuries. And it seemed to 
him, and to every other competent observer of 
football, a sad thing that Princeton and Harvard 
could not meet, and that Yale and Harvard's long 
friendship had turned into hate. 


The old football association, in which Camp had 
been the principal figure for many years, had now 
melted away to a dual partnership between Yale 
and Princeton. It was hard, and for the time 
being it seemed impossible, for Camp to institute 
the kind of reforms which he knew were necessary. 
At the suggestion of the University Athletic Club 
of New York, however, Yale, Princeton, Pennsyl- 
vania, and Harvard delegates met in 1894 to con- 
sider changes and improvements in the football 
rules. At this conference, attention was given to 
public protests against the mass and momentum 
plays, which were the real source of the injuries. 
Deland had contributed the fiercest principle of 
momentum attack in his flying wedge, and George 
Woodruff of Pennsylvania developed this principle 
by working out many variations of momentum 
plays. The object, of course, is to concentrate the 
momentum of several interlocked players against 
an oppponent, with results that are better left to 
the imagination. The "flying" plays were ac- 
cordingly banned. But the mass plays were left, 
and they were carefully worked out by Woodruff 
and other coaches. At Princeton there was the 
"revolving tandem on the tackles," with which in 
1896 as Mr. Davis recalls the team battered 
out a championship. But the public does not care 
about this method of battering the way to victory, 
and the players themselves have a natural objection 
to being battered. The game was losing its superb 


kicking, its long runs, its spectacular elements of 
generalship. Camp and Deland were concerning 
themselves with tandems and wedges and "funnel- 
shaped alleys 13 through the opposing line. They 
remark somewhat bitterly in their book named 
Football^ which was issued at this period, that the 
art of kicking had been almost lost in the preceding 
years. One description of a mass play from this 
book is worth quoting, as it carries all the flavor 
of football in the go's. 

Openings for mass plays [write Camp and Deland] 
are not made until the push part of the play has lost its 
force. As long as the mass is moving forward, it is 
utterly bad football to make any opening. Progress 
is all that is wanted, and the line men in front of the 
mass should stick together, shoulder to shoulder, until 
they find themselves brought almost to a standstill. 
Then, with a final effort, they tear themselves apart, 
carrying a break into the opposing wall through which 
the runner, with the added push he is receiving from 
behind and from the sides, slips, and may at times be 
able to strike out for himself. 

It takes no imagination to picture the great 
heaving, pushing, pulsating mass of men, now 
coming "almost to a standstill/' now rolling and 
sliding and hauling a few feet farther along, until 
with its final collapse it made a huge, squirming 
pile of all the twenty-two players on the field. 
Such was the mass play. It succeeded because a 

HOW 77 

team was required to gain only five yards in three 
downs. These immense scrimmages were like 
nothing seen on a football field before or since. 

Modern eyes will find many other curious pas- 
sages in this book. In those days the opposing 
linemen played close together, and came to grips 
like wrestlers. "If your opponent takes trifling 
liberties with you, such as slapping your face/'* 
wrote the. authors, "let all such actions merely 
determine you to keep a closer watch upon the ball." 
And again: "Don't fail to try to take the ball 
away from an opponent whenever he is tackled. 
Make a feature of this, and you will succeed oftener 
than you anticipate/* 

But in this book, on almost every page of it, 
Camp and Deland showed that they did not 
blindly accept the rules as they then stood, but that 
they hoped for better rules rules that would 
bring long running and kicking back into the game ; 
that would put emphasis on brains and not on 
brawn ; that would cultivate a faster, more thril- 
ling game. "The great merit of this sport/' they 
wrote, "is its practically unlimited field of tactical 
development. The fascinating study of new move- 
ments and combinations is never exhausted/' 

We may end this chapter with the obvious com- 
ment that football did not grow painlessly and 
smoothly. Every new rule that helped it was 
born after long and sharp argument. Every plank 
and joist in the new grandstands that were being 


erected for there was no thought of building 
stadiums in 1896 were paid for by men who knew 
that the game might be abolished utterly, at any 
moment. Reformers of all kinds were eager to 
transform football into something entirely different. 
There were no eligibility rules that had teeth in 
them. There was to come a serious dissension 
between the old Intercollegiate Committee and a 
new group of twenty-eight colleges which was to 
establish its own Conference Committee. The 
football rules prescribed or at least, permitted 
a dull and dangerous sort of game 3 In which Injuries 
were far too frequent. Most of the players sin- 
cerely loathed the game,, and were Induced to play 
only by constant appeals to their college spirit. 
Harvard and Yale were at daggers drawn. The 
colleges of the Middle West were complaining that 
they had no place on the committee that regulated 
the game. 

But brighter days were to come, and Walter 
Camp was to have an Increasingly important share 
In bringing them about. 


IN 1895 Walter Camp, on behalf of Yale, joined 
with Princeton in a new call for a football assembly, 
to which Harvard and Pennsylvania were invited. 
Camp and Alexander Moffatt, the great Princeton 
athlete who has been already mentioned as a 
player, were the only members remaining of the 
old convention. They hoped to revivify it. But 
it broke apart again, almost as soon as Camp and 
Moffatt had drawn it together. The cause of cleav- 
age was again- the mass and momentum plays. 
Harvard and Pennsylvania had highly developed 
these plays and did not wish their fairly earned 
advantage to be nullified. Failing to convert 
Camp and Moffatt to their point of view, Harvard 
and Pennsylvania for the second time left the 
council table, and Yale and Princeton were again 
left alone. The seceding colleges brought Cornell 
into their group, forming a triple league of their 
own. The Yale-Harvard split, however, was 
patched up by a special agreement between the 
captains of their teams. 

Walter Camp had then to watch football enter 
a period of stress, during which it was subjected to 
extreme public criticism, while it lacked an authori- 
tative directing agency. The old Football Rules 


Committee had broken apart. What was left of 
it regarded as unrepresentative, and as too 

exclusive. Some college presidents publicly chal- 
lenged the committee to show by what authority 
it presumed to legislate upon the game. Camp 
and his few remaining colleagues replied that they 
did not seek to impose their rules upon any foot- 
ball teams, but were simply legislating as wisely 
and fairly as they could for the best interests of 
the game. They offered the results of their study, 
experience, and discussions, not as an official man- 
date, but as suggestions which might be accepted 
or rejected. This was obvious, but the criticism 
continued, and especially in the Middle West. 
The committee before long showed its apprecia- 
tion of the football interest in that section by invit- 
ing A. A. Stagg, coach at the University of Chicago, 
to sit with the committee as delegate of that uni- 

The mass plays had resulted with absolute inevi- 
tability from the seemingly small change in the 
rules which permitted tackling as low as the knees 
of the man carrying the ball. Opposition to these 
plays continued to agitate the newspapers* They 
fanned the prejudices of the spectators into flame. 
The West Point and Annapolis teams were not 
allowed to play games off their respective fields. 
This confirmed the popular suspicion that football 
was a dangerous, brutal game. The West Point 
cadets and Annapolis midshipmen provided the 


most colorful of contests, and the determination 
of the Secretaries of War and of the Navy, backed 
by congressional committees, to prevent this meet- 
ing was a serious blow at football. Nevertheless, 
the game was being extended. More colleges and 
schools were playing it every year. But the game 
itself was dull and mechanical, with the same old 
piles of writhing players, the same heavy lists of 
casualties ; and the old-time running and kicking 
game was superseded by short, bull-like thrusts 
into the middle of the line. 

Characteristically enough, President Theodore 
Roosevelt took a hand in football in 1905. He 
invited Yale, Princeton, and Harvard to send 
representatives to confer with him at the White 
House about the game. This honor was not un- 
mixed with distressful consequences, for it aroused 
public interest in football, and confirmed the im- 
pression that something serious was the matter 
with it. Roosevelt was sincere in his statement 
tKat the game needed to be radically reformed. 
This stimulated all the lay critics. Walter Camp 
represented Yale at this White House conference, 
and returned from it with new respect for the Pres- 
ident's breadth of information and sympathy with 
sportsmen. However, nothing of great importance 
came from this meeting, as a new element of dis- 
cord was rapidly arising. 

Chancellor Henry M. MacCracken of New York 
University, supported by Captain Palmer E* 


Pierce, United States Army, representing West 
Point, a call to all colleges to join in a con- 

ference regarding football. Twenty-eight colleges 
responded, and " from this beginning ^ grew * the 
National Collegiate Athletic Association. -The 
first meeting was held in New York on Decem- 
ber 24, 1905, and only Harvard among the 
members of the old association sent delegates. 
Captain Pierce moved the appointment by the 
representatives of the twenty-eight colleges of 
a new football rules committee,, to be called 
the Conference Committee. He suggested that 
its members might sit jointly with the old 
committee, if an arrangement could be reached 
to make this possible. Otherwise, Captain Pierce 
proposed that the new committee should legis- 
late independently, on the authority of the new 
National Collegiate Athletic Association. 

An extremely delicate situation arose. Camp 
knew that it would mean either a complete clipping 
of his wings or else a great extension of his influence 
on the game. A smaller man would have lost 
the smallest remaining shred of importance. But 
Camp was now to show himself the biggest man in 
amateur sport, He kept cool. More than that, he 
showed his honesty of purpose. He -was Yale's 
coach, and the greatest coach in the country, meas- 
ured by results; but above and beyond that, he 
was absolutely convinced that football should be 
improved and continued, as a blessing for every 



college which took part in it. He cordially urged 
the members of the old committee to join 
hands with the new committee. A new tribunal 
was formed, consisting of the members of both 
committees. Dennis of Cornell was elected chair- 
man, and Reid of Harvard, secretary. Upon the 
resignation of Reid, two years later, E. K. Hall 
of Dartmouth was elected in his place. Three 
years later, Dennis resigned as chairman, Hall 
being elected to take his place. Walter Camp 
was then appointed secretary, and filled this posi- 
tion for the rest of his life. He thus emerged 
from the difficulty with his influence not crippled, 
but increased, as he was now working with a 
far more representative committee, and one not 
hampered by requiring unanimous consent to 
every change. 

He realized, of course, that it had been his game 
of football which had been attacked, criticized, 
condemned, and denounced. Yet he was able to 
maintain his poise and good nature. He neither 
raged nor sulked when his work was attacked. In- 
stead of resenting the intrusion of others in the 
effort to save the game, he welcomed their assist- 
ance. By sinking his personal feelings, he was 
able to accomplish what was wisest and best for 
the sport. From this cooperation came the com- 
promise plan, with rules so drastically rewritten 
that an almost new game was played. 

The forward pass was the most startling change. 


Camp did not invent It. He did not approve it as 
an innovation. Dr. Harry Williams of Minnesota 
its sponsor in the meetings,, and Paul Dashiel 
of Annapolis supported Mm. But it is interesting 
to notice that, as soon as the pass had been made 
legal,. Camp was the first coach who made a suc- 
cessful investment in it. It was like him to do 
that. The forward pass was lightly regarded by 
football tacticians, who thought of it as a last des- 
perate resort a sort of "shoestring" play that 
was more likely than not to give the ball to one's 
opponents. But the Yale team in the very next 
year, under Camp's direction, worked out a pass 
which was far more than a haphazard or shoestring 
play. Reserving it until the right moment, P. L. 
Veeder threw the ball to C. F. Alcott on Harvard's 
four-yard line, and a touchdown was the result. 
So] Camp became the demonstrator of the scoring 
power of the forward pass in important games. It 
became in 1925, in the hands of players like Ober- 
lander and Friedman, the most formidable of ail 
methods of advancing the ball. 

The forward pass, however, was not by any 
means the only output of the significant rule-mak- 
ing meeting in 1905. There was another provision 
which bears the unmistakable imprint of Walter 
Camp's mind. From the first appearance of mass 
plays, he had believed that the best way to protect 
the game against them was to increase the distance 
to be gained in order to retain possession of the 


ball. The close plays, the monotonous pulling and 
shoving and hauling, had been made possible by 
the absurdly short distance of five yards to be 
gained in three downs. Camp's plan was to in- 
crease the distance to ten yards, four downs being 
allowed. It was expected, quite reasonably, that 
long end runs must now be attempted, and that 
kicking would come into its own. But the forward 
pass nullified this hope, for the constant threat of 
the pass made it necessary for the halfbacks to 
play farther back on defense. This left the tackles 
and guards without quick reinforcements. The 
old heavy thrusts at the line were accordingly more 
productive of gains than before. Drives at the 
tackles became more profitable than ever, simply 
because of the adoption, in the forward pass, of a 
play that was designed to do away with the tackle- 
battering strategy. 

Dr. Williams of Minnesota, who had learned 
football at Yale under Camp, now devised the 
play called the Minnesota shift. This added 
enormously to the pressure that could be 
brought to bear on any desired point in the 
line. Against a team not skilled in special de- 
fenses against it, the shift would develop into 
plays that tore through the opponent's line as 
if that line were wet tissue paper. And if the 
backfield men moved up to reenforce the line, 
a forward pass could easily be thrown from the 
shift formation. The old agitation against mass 


plays was fanned again into flame. There was a 
new epidemic of injuries. And in 1910 the Foot- 
ball Rules Committee met to purge football again, 
and for the last timz y of the menace of mass plays. 
A radically different set of rules was adopted, so 
different indeed that most spectators and old foot- 
ball men were unable to understand the game at 
ail The officials were kept busy imposing penal- 
ties on players who were hardly better informed. 
Wrote a college versifier : 

You can talk of your backs, 
And your runners in packs, 

And your quarterback speedy and tall, 
But just the same, 
In this newfangled game 

It *s the referee carries the ball ! 

The principal changes made at this time were 
the abolition of all mass plays and of interlocked 
interference; the removal of linemen on offense 
from positions behind the scrimmage line; the 
establishment of a forward pass zone; the pro- 
hibition of pulling and pushing the runner ; and 
various other innovations which were soon learned 
by spectators and players alike. 

This was a sound set of rules that was adopted 
between 1905 and 1910. It has lasted, with hardly 
any fundamental modification, to this day. And 
there is no remaining criticism of either the brutal- 
ity or the dullness of football. In every way the 


game has justified the hopes that Walter Camp 
had for it. The words that he wrote in 1896 have 
come true : "The great lesson of the game may be 
put into a single line: // teaches that brains will 
always win over muscle" 

After the failure of his resolution to keep grad- 
uate students off college teams in 18895 it must 
have pleased Walter Camp no little to have this 
matter brought up in 1905 by the faculty of the 
Harvard Law School. By this time men were 
ready to go even further than he had gone. Fresh- 
men were also debarred. The so-called "tramp 
athlete" found the pickings very lean.' Yale 5 
Princeton, and Harvard ratified in 1906 the follow- 
ing agreement : 

Only such students shall be eligible for university 
teams who shall have completed satisfactorily one year's 
college work. 

Holders of a degree advanced enough to admit at 
least to the senior class of Harvard, Yale, and Princeton 
respectively shall not be eligible for university teams. 

No special students shall be eligible for university 
teams except such as have satisfied full entrance re- 
quirements, have done a full year's work, and are doing 
a full year's work. 

No student shall represent one or more universities 
for more than three years. 

The years between 1906 and 1910 were, beyond 
doubt, among the happiest in Camp's life. He 
found men ready to accept the ideas for which he 

88 CAMP 

had striven. The game of football which he had 
created, against many obstacles, was reformed into 
the game which he had always wished to create. 
And he was beginning to be known, not merely as 
the most successful Yale football coach, but as the 
greatest coach who has ever taught an American 
team in any branch of sport. One cannot avoid 
bringing up records of games won and lost, when 
appraising the value of a coach. Figures may lie 
when they are applied to only a season or two., but 
they do not lie over a period of thirty years. Read 
the Yale football records, and you will find few 
defeats between 1880 and 1910. You will find 
Yale winning over smaller opponents by scores 
that seem grotesque if you write them down. You 
will also find Yale winning consistently over Prince- 
ton and Harvard and West Point. This was not 
mere chance, nor was it intrinsically superior 
material. It was Walter Camp. He was not a 
paid coach, nor did he even assume the title of 
coach. On the contrary, he devised the system of 
giving the captain complete authority, and calling 
back the captain of the previous year's team to 
serve as head coach. 

In the thirty years between 1880 and 1910, Yale 
defeated Harvard twenty times, lost four times, 
and tied three times. There is probably no other 
such record in existence of continued victory, over 
an opponent equal in resources. Harvard was not 
only larger than Yale, but richer. Her men were 


not, on the whole, inferior to Yale men in physique 
or in intelligence. Yale had to put something into 
the balance to secure this overwhelming preponder- 
ance. That something was Walter Camp. 

From 1883 to 1910,, Yale defeated Princeton 
twenty times, lost seven times, and tied once. It 
used to be said rather dismally by Princeton that 
each college generation saw one victory over Yale. 
But Princeton did not lack strong and speedy 
players,, or good coaches. Princeton's football 
spirit was perhaps even better than the spirit at 
New Haven. Yale had something to cast into the 
balance and overcome all Princeton's earnestness 
and will to win. That something was Walter Camp- 
It is. pleasant to review the ways in which Camp 
worked as a coach ways that seem extraordinary 
in the light of modern practice, but which never- 
theless produced his unequaled string of victories. 
"I knew him," said Dean Briggs, of Harvard, "as 
the great master of football, whose advice if the 
Yale captain would listen to it meant inevitable 
defeat to the college I loved best/* How this 
advice was often given is told by Camp himself in 
his own Book of Football. As he tells the story, he 
tries (with no success whatever) to disguise his own 
identity as "a graduate advisor/' Here is the 
tale he tells : 

In the winter of 18991900, before an open fire at 
New Haven, with sleet and snow beating at the win- 
dows and the wind howling a gale outside, three men 


sat thrashing out the never-failing subject of football 
strategy. One was the Captain of the next year's 
team at Yale, the second was the field coach, and the 
third was a graduate advisor. 

"It 5 s the fundamentals we must work on/' said the 
field coach. "The reason why we had such a close call 
last year was because we have been gradually drifting 
away from the good old principles of blocking your 
man, getting through, and tackling low. I tell you, 
any team that masters those fundamentals in the first 
month can then build up a game that will win." 

"That 's true/' said the Captain. "We worked on 
other things so much that we were certainly weak in 
the cardinal principles." 

"I agree absolutely with that," said the advisor. 
"But I also believe that in the general system the pos- 
sibilities of offense are not half exhausted, and that a 
set of plays can be given a team that will simply anni- 
hilate the defense of the opponents., provided, of course, 
the men know straight football." 

"By Jove, it would be pretty fine/' said the Cap- 
tain,, "if we could do that." 

"It can be done," said the graduate, "but it will be 
the hardest plan for you and the coach to carry out." 

"What do you mean by that ?" queried the coach. 

"Because the plays will be entirely unsatisfactory to 
everybody while they are being put in practice. By 
the first of November everyone will criticize them, 
bemoan the time spent upon them, and predict the 
direst failure if they are continued." 

"Do you really mean that ?" 

" Certainly I do, and then it will be up to you to 


stand the gaff, as they say, and carry them through 
until they begin to have their effect. The first week 
they may work a little from, their very novelty and 
because the men are interested. Then, before the 
individual members of the team have had sufficient 
practice to make them complete every movement with 
precision, the defense will prove the stronger. The 
scrub will stop the plays or tangle them all up; the 
team will first lose confidence, then ambition; and 
finally you will find even your best men, while not in 
rebellion, desirous of dropping the plays and going 
back to the simple ones upon which they have been 
drilled in the past." 

"I can't believe that/' said the Captain. "They 
must see that it is practice, practice that is needed/ 7 

"But that is just what they cannot believe, and even 
you and your coach here will be ready to abandon 
the plays." 

"Not if you say they are good/* 

"Well, if my judgment of pace and the present 
defense is not all wrong, I am sure the plays will come 
out all right if you will keep at them to the end/' 

"We 11 stick to them fast enough," jauntily returned 
the Captain. 

" It 's a bargain, then," said the graduate. "1 11 lay 
them out and give them to you." 

The winter passed, and the spring and summer. 
Fall practice began, and the series of plays were put 
into effect. They were based entirely on the theory 
that the opponents had been taught to play low and 
to charge forward immediately upon the snap of the 
ball. The lines of attack were so disposed as to make 


this very charge of each man In his line place him in 
such a position that, except by tremendous effort, he 
could not recover his balance so as to oppose effective 
resistance to the attack. The new plays necessitated 
a heavy fullback, and, no other being at hand, one of 
the tackles, Perry Hale, was taken from the line and 
made the regular fullback. Another green player was 
placed at tackle. 

By the first of November, great was the criticism of 
the team. It was slow, painfully slow. A respectable 
end run was certainly out of the question. The back- 
field, to use the expression of one of the coaches, was 
"slower than molasses in January." Finally the Cap- 
tain called up the graduate one evening and said that 
he thought they would have to put the fullback up at 
tackle again and get a faster, lighter man who could 
get up pace enough to keep up with the rest of the backs. 

"But that means the abandonment of the plays," 
said the graduate. 

"I know. But everyone says they never will work, 
and something must be done." 

"Where's McBride?" asked the graduate, naming 
the field coach. 

"Over in his room in the hotel/* said the Captain, 

"I 'm going down to see him. Don't do anything 
till I see you later." 

"All right. But things look pretty dark." 

When the three men met later in the evening, it was 
a depressing occasion. The Captain reported that 
almost every man on the team had lost confidence. 
He had talked with them individually, and all wanted 
the backfield speeded up and Hale, the heavy fullback, 


put at his old position at tackle. The coach said that 
he was hearing nothing else from the coaches who had 
seen the game in New York against Columbia. 

It was indeed a serious time, but it was finally agreed 
that the present positions and players should be main- 
tained until the game with the Carlisle Indians, and if 
by that time and in that game they did not show their 
worth, the graduate was willing to see them abandoned, 
and Hale sent up into the line at tackle-, and a faster 
backfield developed. Only one who has either cap- 
tained or coached a football team can appreciate the 
feelings of these three men on the eve of the Indian 
game. Each knew that failure then meant too short 
a time to develop the team along other lines. They 
had virtually burned their bridges behind them, and 
were now to stake their season on the work of the next 

On that evening a still further chance was deter- 
mined upon. The big fullback was such a factor In 
himself that the graduate urged an even greater hazard, 
but a better test of the plays. He suggested that an- 
other man, Dupee, should replace Hale for that game 
a man not nearly so powerful, but one who knew the 
plays and would, by the experience of the game, fit 
himself to take the place of the fullback in the later 
championship games with Harvard and Princeton, 
should any injury incapacitate the regular man. This 
seemed indeed too much, but was finally accepted, and 
the two teams lined up. 

From the very start the Yale team with its new plays 
marched down the field through and over the bewildered 
opponents, six, eight, ten, a dozen yards at a down. 


The final score was 55 to o, and the plays had made 
good. The Princeton game was won 29 to 5 , and the 
Harvard game 28 to o, and within a year half the teams 
In the country were playing tackle- back plays. 

So Walter Camp himself raises, for a moment, 
the shroud of secrecy which usually hid the football 
councils in Ms day. He reveals not only the in- 
vention of these devastating plays which rolled up 
great scores against the most able opponents, but 
also shows something of the difficulty of holding, 
throughout a disappointing season, to a prear- 
ranged programme. 

In the next year, 1902, Camp and the captain of 
the team, George B. Chadwick, collaborated in 
inventing a new twist to the tackle-back play, 
from which again successful scoring runs were 
made. Chadwick was fast and a clever dodger, 
able to turn instantly in his tracks and speed off 
in a new direction, two accomplishments of which 
Camp took full advantage. He designed a new 
play, by which all the backfield players were sent 
rushing off to the right, as if intent upon a " skin- 
tackle " thrust, with Chadwick carrying the ball 
and the last man to come up to the line. The 
interferers, in this play, were to make such a 
showy drive at the tackle and line, that, theoreti- 
cally, the opposing defensive players would be 
drawn quickly over in that direction. The Yale 
centre and the guard were instructed to stand 
squarely in their places, shoulder to shoulder and 



immovable. Chadwick, with the ball, was to 
follow his interference almost to the line, then 
turn suddenly and drive himself against the backs 
of his own centre and guard. These men, holding 
firm, were to separate when they felt the impact 
of his rash, and to allow him to pass through be- 
tween them with the ball. 

The play, secretly developed, was held in reserve 
until the Princeton game was under way. - Then 
Camp, on the side lines, heard the signal for Chad- 
wick's surprise. He watched intently, and saw 
the play begin with the powerful rush at the oppo- 
site tackle. The Princeton players flung them- 
selves out of position, toward the spot at which 
the Yale offensive seemed directed. Chadwick 
spun on his toes, plunged at the stolid centre and 
guard of his own line, and sprang through as they 
separated. A Princeton player was in the act of 
rushing across in front of him as Chadwick emerged 
with the ball in his arms. The Princeton man, see- 
ing he had been deceived, tried to turn and threw 
out his arms, but he was so completely off balance 
that he merely succeeded in touching the flying 
Yale back. After that, Chadwick had only a 
single defensive Princeton back to elude, and he 
sped on for fifty-seven yards, scoring a touchdown, 
which overcame a five-point lead Princeton had 
gained through DeWitt's extraordinary fifty-yard 
field goal. 

It is interesting here to note that George Chad- 


wick performed the same feat in the second half of 
that game, bursting through the Princeton line 
and racing half the length of the field for his second 
touchdown of that afternoon. The play on which 
he scored this time seemed a repetition of the first, 
and so Camp had recorded it. Remembering the 
incident later, however, Chadwick said that the 
second scoring play was not the same as the first, 
and that he went through the Princeton line at a 
spot which unexpectedly appeared. It was a for- 
tuitous opportunity of which he took advantage. 

Camp's ingenuity had invented this first play, 
by which Chadwick was able to pass straight 
through the Princeton line with only the power- 
less fingers of a single Princeton player touching 
him. This play defeated Princeton. Another 
and a later play, in which Camp for the first time 
demonstrated the effectiveness of a masked and 
delayed forward pass, defeated Harvard. In the 
forward-passing game, which began after the 1905 
revision of the football rules, Camp and the other 
coaches were faced with the problem of somehow 
consuming enough time between the start of the 
play and the passing of the ball by a backfield 
player, to allow the eligible pass-receivers to find 
their positions. Camp conceived the idea of start- 
ing the play from an apparent drop-kick formation, 
requiring a longer and slower pass from the player 
at centre. But the time was still too short. He 
elaborated the play, then, by directing the back- 


field player with the ball to run backward toward 
his own goal before passing the ball. Again it 
was found that the action was too swift, and that 
the players who were to receive the forward pass 
did not have time to reach a free position. Boldly 
original, then. Camp suggested that the backfield 
player should make an apparent start at a wide, 
swinging end run, and halt before reaching the line 
in order to fling his forward pass. 

The play, when first tried in secret, aroused 
much merriment among the Yale players. They 
dubbed it the "twenty-three" formation. It 
seemed ridiculous to them. But at the proper 
moment in the Yale-Harvard game, when. Yale 
was in possession of the ball within Harvard's 
forty-yard line and a drop-kick seemed timely, 
Veeder of Yale was sent back as if to try for a goal 
from the field. The ball came to him on a long 
pass from centre, and he tucked it under his arm 
and started to run around the end. The Harvard 
team streamed over to intercept him. He ran far 
out toward the side of the field, so far that the 
Harvard defensive halfbacks were deceived into 
believing the play a genuine end run, and they 
hurried up to reenforce their linesmen. Veeder, 
in full flight toward the Harvard end, suddenly 
paused, and threw a forward pass straight into the 
waiting arms of Alcott, who stood alone a few yards 
from Harvard's goal. The entire Harvard team 
had been lured out of position, and Alcott found no 


Interference as the football flew toward Mm. But 
the opportunity for a touchdown was so excit- 
ing at the moment that Alcott fumbled the ball. 
Later in the game, the same play was repeated 
and a touchdown was soon made, Alcott catching 
Veeder's throw on the four-yard line. 

In these plays, as in many others, Camp's foot- 
ball genius proved itself, and his opinion of the 
mental process of opposing players proved correct 
under test. The plays,, like most of those devised 
by Camp,, were developed in hours of careful 
thought and in seclusion. There is no evidence 
that Campy at any time, invented a football play 
or improvised a defense on the spur of the moment. 
It was his purpose to maintain himself and his team 
always "a jump ahead" of his opponents, and he 
succeeded remarkably in realizing this hope. He 
was not often surprised by the tactics of opponents. 
The appearance of the Harvard football team of 
1892 in slippery leather suits, at the same time that 
Harvard first revealed the flying wedge devised by 
Deland, was probably the greatest astonishment 
in Camp's career as a defensive strategist. But 
his opinion of the leather suits, made instantly 
upon seeing them, was vindicated. He remarked 
that the suits might make it difficult to tackle the 
Harvard players, but that the leather would ex- 
haust the men. This was true. The Harvard 
team, in the second half, had played itself out. 
Camp did not have an opportunity to plan a de- 


fense against the flying wedge, because one of his 
players, Frank Hinkey, found a way to break up 
the formation, by slewing its nose to one side and 
piling it up, before the first half was completed and 
therefore before Camp had a chance to speak with 
his men. 

But his Interest was far less in individual achieve- 
ments, or in scores from game to game and season 
to season, than in the triumph of football itself. 
He rejoiced In Frank Hinkey, one of the most In- 
domitable players who ever lived, too light for the 
game as it was played, and yet Incomparable as an 
end. He rejoiced in all the other earnest players, 
from coast to coast. His voice took on a different 
ring when he spoke of the growth of football, of its 
effect on the characters of the men who played it. 
He quoted with pride the statement of a surgeon 
of Boston, who said, "Football may twist a few 
joints, but It Is building up a new race of men." 
He went on to say, himself : 

"Football is essentially a game of severe moral and 
mental standards. No dullard can play the game suc- 
cessfully. Early In his career the football player will 
find developed in him a degree of self-reliance which 
probably no other sport In the world would inculcate. 
He acquired another and an even more valuable quality 
self-control. Whatever the provocation, he must 
never lose his temper, never let his attention be drawn 
from the play. No game so tries the temper as does 
football. To promptness of decision and self-restraint 


the player courage. He must have it to 

with, he will find that he has much more of it 
as the advances." 

He foundj too^ In football the great lesson of 
obedience : 

An army poorly officered becomes a mob ; a foot- 
ball team without discipline would be even worse off. 
The player must bear the biting sarcasm of the coaches 
without the thought of rebellion. Every order must 
be unquestioningly obeyed. There are other minor 
advantages to the player, which must be passed over 
with a few words. The game requires coolness; it 
leads to a study of the dispositions of men, and teaches 
the subordination of strength to will. There is an ele- 
ment in human nature which finds a powerful attraction 
in personal contest between man and man. We cannot 
suppress this element, but we may wisely direct it. 
While in some sports it leads to cheating, it has quite 
an opposite effect in football. The man who loses his 
temper will be outplayed. The man who plays an un- 
fair game loses more for his side than he can possibly 

Long after Camp wrote these words, the second 
most distinguished of eastern football coaches, 
Percy D. Haughton of Harvard, was to express the 
same thought in different words. Said he : 

"Sport is best carried on for sport's sake, but if you 
plan and aim and work to win, using everything that 
you have, the sport's sake will take care of itself. 


Dirty playing is first of ail inefficient. If you take 
time in a game to try some snide trick on an opponent, 
you are deliberately neglecting a lot of important mat- 
ter that you have been told to use. To break training 
is the lowest form of robbing yourself and also your 
team of your highest performance; nothing short of 
your highest performance will do/* 

Let anyone tempted to play in a dirty way 
mark well these words of Camp and of Haughton. 
There is something higher than the mere repe- 
tition of the old proverb that "honesty is the 
best policy." A sportsman knows that, but he 
knows that honor is to be cherished for its own 
sake, and that defeat with honor is better than 
victory with any kind of trickery. Camp was the 
dominating character in the development of foot- 
ball. Some kind of football would have come into 
being without him, but it might have had less 
chivalry, less likeness to the old tournaments of 
knighthood, less of the color and courage and chiv- 
alry of the tourney field. All that side of football 
is a reflection of Camp's own character. You will 
find hardly another man, among all the early foot- 
ball players, who would have been competent to 
give the game the traditions it derived from him. 
There were other men as knightly in spirit as was 
Camp; but it is one thing to hold high ideals of 
chivalry for yourself, and another thing to teach 
them, as he did, with voice and pen, for forty con- 
secutive years. 


So In this chapter on the triumphs that came to 
Waiter Camp, we must set down not merely the 
of the which he helped to win. We 

remember that he was, more than any other 
man, the individual who polled the game up from 
the low level of sportsmanship to which it had 
just before his time. Indeed, football had 
always been the black sheep of the whole athletic 
family. Nearly six hundred years ago, it was pro- 
by King Edward III of England. In 1491, 
the year before Columbus sailed. King James IV 
of Scotland proclaimed that football must be 
'"utterly cryed downe." Again and again, in the 
ages that followed, the coarse old game was banned 
by city ordinances. In our own colleges, before 
1875, football led a precarious existence. "Un- 
fair, brutal, drunken," were but three of the adjec- 
tives used to describe football by a college maga- 
zine in the 6o's. "The game/" says that report, 
"is won by the exercise of deliberate brutality; 
one may speak slightingly of bloody noses and 
black eyes, but we know not what is to prevent the 
infliction of more serious injuries/' 

One of the Brown College publications remarked 
at about the same time : "The bruised limbs, black 
eyes, and cracked heads are treasured as spoils of 
the battlefield." And the New York Evening Post 
reported that one college game of football in 1858, 
"were it told without one shade of exaggeration, 
would make the same impression on the public 


mind as a bullfight. Boys and young men knocked 
each other down, tore off each other's clothing. 
Eyes were bunged, faces blacked and bloody, and 
shirts and coats torn to rags/" 

It is easy to smile at these highly colored reports, 
and to take modern football for granted. But the 
man who made modern football was Walter Camp. 
He rescued It from its long disrepute. Without 
him, it might still be a drunken revel, a scramble 
without rules or traditions of decency. The game 
would have survived, because it is a fighting game 
and man is a fighting animal. These are the words 
of Dr. Morton Prince of Boston, once a Harvard 
player, and for many years one of the foremost 
authorities on the human mind. 

In the emergencies when modern football was 
fighting for its very existence, there is no evidence 
that Camp feared for it. He foresaw what was 
coming a game purged of its old brutality, and 
played under a sportsmanlike code of rules. He 
smiled when he heard that American football had 
been described by an intelligent French writer as 
"cette lutte bestiale" He had not played it in that 
spirit, and he did not teach it in that spirit. By 
1910 he knew that the old criticisms were losing 
force, and that people were accepting football just 
as their grandfathers after long anxiety and 
many doubts had accepted the railroad train. 
He set himself to live and to teach in such a way 
that he might be an example of what football can 


do for a man. He was intellectual and not mus- 
cular; sensitive and not coarse; diplomatic and 
not overbearing. He was the pattern of a success- 
ful and happy man, fastidious in dress and manner, 
rich in friendships, and with a mind that never 
lopsided. Football held the first place in it. 
But he was making great headway in business, he 
was gaining an immense circle of friends with Ms 
pen, and he was contented in the knowledge that 
the football teams which he directed were far su- 
perior to their great rivals. He had known all the 
joys of victory. And he had consolidated all his 
gains ; he knew more football than anyone else, 
and knew how to apply his knowledge. 

While the games played by Yale teams were in 
progress, Camp sat quietly on the side lines, appar- 
ently imperturbable. He seemed ready to let the 
game work itself out. He could afford to be calm, 
for he knew everything possible in the line of prepa- 
ration, had been done. He had " coached the 
coaches." The game itself was but a demonstra- 
tion of the soundness of his ideas, and of the suc- 
cess with which he had given them out. He had 
been wise, gentle, diplomatic. He had scolded 
and bullied no one. In all emergencies he had been 
like a rock upon which weaker people could lean. 

He was strengthened, too, by a maxim which 
he had long ago borrowed from Napoleon. "In 
warfare the moral elements are to the physical 
in the ratio of three to one." Camp determined 


that the thing is true in football. He said 

that the moral elements in football are (i) the 
personality of the captain or coach ; (2) the abil- 
ity,, in Napoleon's phrase, "to seize the decisive 
moment"; (3) the prestige and spirit of your 
team ; and (4) the completeness of your informa- 
tion about the adversary. Having made sure that 
these moral elements were on his side, It seemed 
to Camp that Harvard or Princeton would have 
to be three times stronger than Yale In physical 
resources to win, or even to tie. Such a reflec- 
tion could not fail to reassure him. He said 
that It Is only uninformed newspaper reporters 
and unreasoning partisans of a defeated team 
who raise the cry of "luck" In football. "Foot- 
ball games are not won or lost by luck, except 
in very rare Instances. What appears to be luck 
is one of the moral qualities which, carefully 
nurtured by one coach and perhaps neglected by 
the other, proves to be the turning point in the 
contest." And so he went to the games with a 
calmness that grated upon the men around him* 
His poise was so perfect that it annoyed them, 
especially when they compared it to their own 
excitement. And one might conclude that he felt 
no emotion, and knew nothing about the usual 
agonies of watching a hard-fought and doubtful 
game. But 

George Chadwick, head coach at Yale in the 
season after his own graduation, went to consult 


Walter Camp on the morning of the Princeton 
found him shaken and nervous- Walter 
Camp outward calmness ; but he had under- 
neath, all the more poignantly because 
they were not expressed^ the hopes and fears, the 
emotions^ which other men feel and do not 



PRINCETON and Harvard changed their athletic 
coaches often, because they could not bear failure. 
Yale changed at last, because she could not bear 

From the standpoint of games won, no college 
has ever been more successful in competition with 
its chief rivals than was Yale between 1880 and 
1910. During these years Walter Camp rose by 
degrees into athletic prominence at his college. 
As treasurer of the Yale Field Association, he be- 
came responsible for the general management and 
the financial side of sports at Yale. No one could 
wish to detract in any way from the brilliant repu- 
tations won by such other Yale athletic mentors 
as R. J. Cook and "Mike" Murphy. It is never- 
theless true that Yale athletics, in the long period 
of thirty years that ended in 1910, were in the 
hands of Camp. 

Even a glance at the record books will show what 
successful years they were. Yale teams were 
regarded as almost invincible on the football field. 
A victory over Yale, scored at long intervals by 
either Princeton or Harvard, was a cause of infinite 
jubilation on the part of the winners. Yale had 
the winning habit. Games were won, it almost 


the men came out of the dressing- 
Many opponents went home satisied if 
they had able to hold Yale to a low score. 

And the example of the football teams proved 
infectious. At New London, for instance, Yale 
crews won thirteen out of fifteen races from Har- 
vard between 1890 and 19055 and suffered but 
two defeats. Many of these races were hardly 
races at all. Yale won huge, hollow victories by 
such margins as seventeen lengths in 1894, and 
eleven lengths in 1895- It is worth observing that 
Harvard changed head coaches eleven times in 
those fifteen years, when her crews endured the 
long ordeal of training, only to follow hopelessly 
in the subsiding wash of the Yale shells. Harvard 
won the race in 1899, the year following Mr. Cook's 
retirement as coach of Yale. But to many ..people 
this victory served only to throw into relief the six 
consecutive Yale successes that had preceded it, 
and possibly to foreshadow the six consecutive 
Yale successes that were to follow. 

Walter Camp, of course, delighted in Cook's 
winning record, based on thorough methods of 
training and teaching. Cook had made an inten- 
sive study of English rowing. His powerful crews 
were far more than a match for the Harvard crews. 
They were good enough to meet any opponents, 
as one of them proved by making an unexpectedly 
good showing at the Henley regatta in 1896. One 
point of likeness between Camp and Cook, differ- 


ent as were their personalities and methods^ may 
be mentioned here. Neither of them believed in 
luck. They took no stock in that modern shib- 
boleth, the so-called "breaks of the game." In a 
properly prepared-for game, they would have told 
you, there are no breaks. Form wins. Action 
equals reaction. Twice two is four. 

In track athletics, Yale faced stiffer and more 
intelligent opposition than in football and rowing. 
But Yale won the Intercollegiate Track Champion- 
ship in 1894, I 8,95 ? and 1896, and matched this 
remarkable record by winning another string of 
three consecutive championships in 1902, 1903,, and 
1904. Her teams were not only strong in reliable 
first-place winners^ like E. J. Clapp, '04, in the 
hurdles ; W. O. Hickok, '05, in the weights ; and 
W. R. Dray, '08, in the pole vault ; but Yale was 
also able to put forward men able to gain the minor 
places a sure sign of careful coaching and a large, 
well-balanced squad of men. The presence of 
many men who win second, third, and fourth 
places does not mean that you have a poor track 
teanij but a good one. 

Yale was never worse than fourth in an inter- 
collegiate track meet from 1883 to 1910. Prince- 
ton finished in tenth place in 1895, behind Union 
and Amherst, and has never indeed won an inter- 
collegiate track meet since 1876, just fifty years 
ago as this book goes to press. And Harvard, 
despite a general impression that she always did 


well on the track, found six colleges ahead of 
her in 1907, one third place and two fourth 

In the of that year. Harvard lost the 

with Yale in 1901, 1903, 1904, 1906, 
and 1909. Only in hockey did she score with satis- 
factory regularity on her great rival. Baseball 
are apt to be somewhat confusing; but 
you Yale winning twenty-nine games from 

Harvard between 1880 and 1895, and losing but 
fifteen games an overwhelming percentage, as 
such records go. Beginning in 1888, Yale won 
seven consecutive games from Harvard, scoring 
55 runs against 18, and twice shutting out Harvard 
by scores of 8-0. 

In any brief survey of this kind, it is hard to be 
either complete or fair. The reader may easily 
recall some great success scored by his own college 
team against Yale in this period before 1910. But 
he will surely recall that it was won against heavy 
odds, which made it all the sweeter. When you 
speak of heavy odds, you pay tribute to the skill 
and reputation of your foe. No college, it is cer- 
tain, formed anything that approached a habit of 
winning over Yale. Few well-informed sportsmen, 
after a study of the record books, will deny that 
between 1885 and 1910 the period of Camp's 
leadership Yale not only had the best aver- 
age football teams in the country, but also had 
extremely successful teams in other kinds of 


Sooner or later you find yourself asking the 
question whether victory is the chief purpose of 
athletics. Beyond all doubt, it is the purpose of 
intercollegiate athletics. When you play another 
college you play, to win. Walter Camp saw to it 
that Yale should play to win, and Yale's record 
speaks for itself on the pages of the record books. 
Whether or not this winning habit was a blessing 
or a curse to Yale, is a question which this book 
should not try to answer. We are concerned only 
with its effect on Walter Camp. His final dis- 
appearance from leadership in Yale athletics was 
due to it. He kindled the fire, and fanned it from 
year to year by the success of the football teams. 
In the long run, he was defeated by Ms own success. 

Some men in those winning years must have 
asked themselves whether Yale's reputation was to 
become an entirely athletic reputation. They 
wondered, no doubt, what these huge, thumping 
victories on the football field had to do with Yale's 
motto, Lux ei Veritas. They may have felt that 
scholarship and religion must languish in an atmos- 
phere so charged with muscular prowess and with 
an intense preoccupation about victory. They 
saw both Harvard and Princeton, to name Yale's 
two athletic rivals alone, growing in size and in 
scholastic fame, even while Yale defeated their 
teams on the field. Some of the truest sportsmen 
in America are among the professors in college 
faculties. These men usually feel that victory in 


a Is and desirable., but is not the 

of the game. They may even hope 
victories and defeats will balance from year 
to year, so that there will be more fun and uncer- 
tainty in the coming matches. But it is unusual 
to carry this idealistic spirit into a modern cheer- 
ing section. You are thought disloyal if you do 
not pray and cheer for victory every time your 
team plays a game. Men who look philosophi- 
cally at intercollegiate sports are in a slim minor- 
ity. The average football spectator is carried 
away by emotion. He wants to win. He cannot 
imagine himself having a good time unless his col- 
lege wins the game. It is not in ordinary human 
nature to sit in a stadium and smile cheerfully 
while the men of your own college are being beaten. 

Walter Camp himself, although he was open- 
minded in all emergencies that affected the final 
good of football, was nevertheless one of the most 
fervent Yale partisans who have ever lived. - He 
could not possibly be described as "a good loser," 
except in the superficial sense of the words. He 
could keep calm, of course. But his spirit hated 
defeat, and he planned systematically and with 
all his wits for victory. It is preposterous to think 
that he did not feel unhappy whenever a Yale 
team was beaten, or that he did not make up his 
mind that a defeat must not occur for the same 
reason again. 

"When you lose a match against a man in your 


own class," he once said, "shake hands with him; 
do not. excuse your defeat; do not it, 

do not let it happen again if there is any way to 
prepare yourself better for the next match." 

You will search a long way for a better definition 
of the winning spirit. Camp greatly enjoyed the 
statement attributed to Dr. Oliver Wendell 
Holmes, that a gentleman in sport is a man who 
"plays up, pays up, and shuts up when beaten." 
But Camp never shut up his mind. It remained 
open, considering and planning football three 
hundred and sixty-five days a year,, and never more 
intelligently than after one of Yale's few defeats. 
This is the reason that you find so few examples 
of an opponent scoring two consecutive victories 
over Yale in Camp's day. 

It was a long day, but it ended in the removal 
of Camp. There were many reasons, but they 
can all be summed up into a single word envy. 
If they are given here at length, it is only because 
they may serve to remind some other community 
that it is an unprofitable thing to dismiss a leader 
until you are sure that you have a man big enough 
to take his place. 

Walter Camp made one mistake which helped a 
great deal to shorten his own career. He regarded 
with great satisfaction the growth of football not 
merely as a game, but as a spectacle. He enjoyed 
enormously the bustle of the crowds, the cheering, 
the excitement of the spectators. He was thrilled 


by the crowds he at games all over Amer- 

ica, by newspaper accounts of still larger 

as followed season. No wonder that 

he in its success. But he forgot that these 

crowds in the new stadiums that were spring- 
ing up everywhere were full of people who had 
only the vaguest Ideas of football and of sports- 
manship. He thought of them as football-lovers. 
He thought that they understood the fine points 
of the game. He was eager to build an immense 
amphitheatre at Yale, and he expected It would be 
full of people who would love football in the same 
way that he did. He was canny enough to foresee 
that the money taken In from football spectators 
would suffice for all the other athletic expenses of 
the college. So his own love of football and his 
business judgment combined to make him over- 
look the fact that overwhelming popular patronage 
has injured every sport which it has ever touched. 
The crowds at the games were not the kind of 
crowds whom Camp had expected to welcome. It 
became hard for a football enthusiast to secure a 
seat between the thirty-yard lines. Camp spoke 
with pleasure of the huge crowds, and could not be 
persuaded for many years that it would be better 
for football his kind of hard, scientific, self- 
sacrificing football If the games were played on 
remote fields, with no grandstands, and with only 
a few hundred spectators, limited to men who 
had played the game themselves. 


Football crowds, as the game leaped Into public 
favor, turned out to be the same kind of crowds 
who must have filled the Coliseum at Rome 
sensation-lovers who wanted a great spectacle, and 
loved the throngs and the music and the colored 
flags and balloons; raging partisans, who had 
betted on their team without real knowledge of its 
ability; girls who took it for granted that their 
escorts would get them seats for The Game a 
vast, motley, cheering crowd, reeking with perfume 
and alcohol, and full of an intense lust for victory. 

Here and there in such crowds are plenty of 
men, and not a few women, who really love foot- 
ball. Too often, in the present demand for tickets, 
you find them seated behind the goal posts, or 
unable to get inside the gates at all. The great 
mass of a football crowd includes people who have 
never played the game, never read the rules, and 
who are chiefly attracted by a warped sense of 
college loyalty, or by a desire to see some famous 
player in action. 

Such a crowd is a very interesting thing, but it 
can also be a very dangerous thing. It gives the 
players a false sense of their own importance. It 
is blindly eager for victory. It has no mercy on a 
beaten eleven, or on a man who makes some mis- 
take that loses a'game. It has no pity on a coach 
whose team loses a championship. It has called 
into being, indeed, a race of coaches who are migra- 
tory and who flit from one college to another. 


There Is no other occupation In which one failure 
can a career more thoroughly. But the real 

is the big, unthinking crowd which cares 
less for football than for football victories. 

As Walter Camp grew older, it was natural 
for younger men to feel that his Ideas were 
These younger men overlooked the fact 
that Camp himself had been the chief developer of 
" modern " football They knew that, as a player, 
he had never been allowed to use the forward pass. 
It seemed Incongruous that he should now be able 
to teach it, or to devise plays built around it. 
There is always the hope, on the part of a crowd of 
people who do not know football, that some trick 
play or series of trick plays, can defeat an opposing 
team. Walter Camp came to be regarded, un- 
fairly, as an old fogey ; a man who resisted prog- 
ress, whose football was of an antiquated kind. 
The mere fact that he sometimes, between 1900 
and 1910, came down to the field during practice, 
and took off his coat, and plunged Into something 
that closely approached real play, was so remark- 
able on the part of a middle-aged man that it lent 
emphasis to the remarks of those who said he was 
growing old. 

His own system of coaching, In which last year's 
captain returned as field coach and directed the 
season's play along with the new captain, was an 
Ideal one until the new complexities of the game 
demanded a permanent (or apparently permanent) 


coach. This old Yale system, with Camp 
himself to back it up as advisor, won for Yale a 
steady succession of victories from 1902 to 1908. 
A defeat came seldom in those years. And every 
year there graduated from Yale many men well 
trained in football men who proved themselves 
highly successful as coaches at other colleges, and 
who naturally regarded themselves as competent 
to coach at Yale. 

If Camp made a preventable mistake in allowing 
football to be overemphasized on the part of the 
general public, he made at about this time another 
mistake which he could not prevent. He allowed 
himself to be thought of as cold. He was no more 
capable of false Joviality than George Washington 
himself was capable of it. Like James J. Storrow, 
**he shook many hands, but he never shook one for 
the sake of a vote or a favor." As an undergradu- 
ate., he had always been ready for any wholesome 
fun. He had tolerated all kinds of men who were 
his inferiors, playing games with them despite 
his own great superiority, associating with them 
frankly and freely for the sake of human compan- 
ionship. But there is no doubt that he stiffened 
as he grew older. He made new friends slowly. 
He reserved his good fellowship, his quick sym- 
pathy, and his sunny good humor for those old 
friends who had proved themselves worthy. He 
was not a hero worshiper. Some of the younger 
football heroes, in his later years, may have thought 


intentionally cold to them. His interest was 
always in the team, not the man. He believed 
with Kipling that : 

The game is more than the player of the game. 
And the ship is more than the crew. 

Camp played no favorites. It was thought by 
a few that he was taking credit for plays invented 
by other men. As a matter of fact, he was taking 
deserved credit for victory, not for its details. He 
was running, very gently and in an inconspicuous 
way, a school of football which constantly created 
new ideas. He prepared the soil from which heroes 
sprang. It could not be expected that they would 
give him full credit for their education. To young 
men who came and asked his advice, he was uni- 
formly patient and helpful. One of them was 
S. H. Philbin, for three years a halfback until his 
graduation in 1910. Philbin haunted Camp's 
house, interfering with bridge games and with 
Camp's other hours of leisure. It was in this way 
that he learned to play football well, and Camp 
acquired a lasting respect for him. But not all 
the young men were so ambitious or so teachable. 
Many of them failed to understand that Camp was 
either teaching them or managing the system that 
enabled other men to teach them. 

As time went on, and they won games with regu- 
larity, they began to give themselves most of the 
credit. Football makes heroes young, unthink- 

THE 119 

ing, immature and unbalanced heroes. Like every 
other winning team, each Yale tegm contained at 
least one young man whose self-importance was 
titillated by the applause of the crowds, and the 
hero-worship of the campus, and the presentation 
of his name in newspaper headlines. This kind of 
thing goes to the twenty-year-old head. It would 
go to the forty-year-old head just as quickly, per- 
haps. It takes a level-headed football hero to 
walk modestly. There have been such men 
Gordon Brown, for example,, or Marshall Newell 
but there have not been very many of them. It 
is easy to make a run through a hole in the line and 
afterward to forget all about the hole. It is not 
customary in football reporting to say: " Smith 
and Robinson made a large hole and a touchdown 
was scored." The report usually reads: "Green 
plunged over the line for a touchdown, winning 
the game/* 

Green and his friends are pretty sure to be 
affected by this kind of report, if it is often re- 
peated. A boy remembers his fifty-yard run, and 
forgets the interference that made it possible. He 
remembers giving a signal for a play that scored a 
touchdown, but he may forget who invented that 
play and told him at what moment to use it. 

Walter Camp never thought it wise to give ex- 
cessive credit to individual players. In fact, he 
was extremely reticent of personal praise, except 
after the* close of each season, when he chose his 

i 2 o CAMP 

All-America Team. Even then his interest was 
in the than in the individuals. It is 

fair to say that he often disappointed young 
players who would have greatly appreciated re- 
ceiving his praise. It must not be thought that 
he could have staved off his dismissal, and courted 
popularity, by being hypocritical. It was not 
in him. He could not have assumed any geniality 
he did not feel His honesty was trans- 
parent- It was no part of his business to flatter 
young men. He could and did seem to them,, on 
occasions, very stern and unsympathetic. And 
there were many times when he disagreed sharply 
with younger men, and did not pay them the com- 
pliment of explaining his reasons. He hated soap- 
box oratory, which is so often called freedom of 
speech. The loose-mouthed sort of man found 
him a poor listener. 

He carried a heavy responsibility as dictator of 
Yale athletics, and he showed that he knew it. 
The peculiar Yale football coaching system was 
only practical when the captain to whom such 
complete authority was delegated was cool and 
mature enough to know that he was no autocrat at 
all. He derived all his authority from Camp. If 
serious disagreement arose, either he or Camp 
would have to go. Systems last only as long as 
men agree to make them last. It may have seemed 
to Yale men that the football system was a perfect 
and durable thing, which would last as long as the 


college itself. Actually, as Camp well knew, the 
system would vanish as soon as one captain proved 
himself a mutineer.. 

Many men wanted Camp's scalp. Had they 
stopped to reflect, they would have known that 
the mere threat of Camp's presence somewhere 
behind the Yale team was worth, let us say, one 
touchdown a game. "Exchange kings/' said the 
Irish, after the Battle of the Boyne, "and we will 
fight you again and beat you/* The mere threat 
of Napoleon's presence on a battlefield was said 
to be worth fifty thousand men in its moral effect 
on an enemy. Yale's opponents had similar ideas 
about Camp. They regarded him as the man who 
invented Yale's successful methods. Even if this 
impression had been wrong, it nevertheless was 
present. But many Yale men were too confident 
and too careless to verify it. The most superficial 
investigation at Princeton and at Cambridge would 
have taught them that the one great gleam of hope 
which football men in those institutions could pray 
for would be the removal of Walter Camp. But 
no! Such an event was not even dreamed of. 
Harvard and Princeton had no knowledge of the 
great stroke of good fortune that was coming to 

And the Yale men who sought Walter Camp's 
dismissal were not disloyal to Yale. They really 
believed that they knew more football than he did. 
The memory of the games in which he had been a 


player was dim. But the younger men re- 

their own games, and forgot that in prepar- 

for them they had learned under Camp 

more football than most players will ever know. 

A player on one of these winning Yale teams was 

of a coaching job at another college if he cared 

to accept it. Again the question arose: Why 

he not have the honor and glory of being 

coach at Yale ? 

We may be sure that if any one of these detrac- 
tors of Camp had known that the football systems 
at both Princeton and Harvard were going to be 
greatly improved, his loyalty to Yale would have 
kept him from attacking Camp, A few years 
later, when Yale's teams were demoralized and 
Yale was passing through the most harrowing 
seasons of defeat that ever came to a first-rate 
college, it was easy to see the havoc brought about 
by the departure of Camp. But the young men 
were not able to read the future. They were sure 
that Yale would prosper even more in athletics 
without Camp's services than with them. 

By 1907 and 1908 the stage was set for a 
revolution. The hot water was coming to a boil. 
Yale had twenty or more famous players, many of 
whom were eager to take the coaching reins. It 
seemed needless to submit any longer to the old- 
fashioned ideas of the aging prophet in the clock 
company a prophet without honor in his own 
country ! 

THE 123 

And then a very disturbing happened. 

The Yale team in 1908 was hardly one of Yale's 
best elevens. There were considerable cavities 
in the positions where uch men as J. J. Hogan 
and E. T. Glass and R.. C. Tripp had played. 
There were two stars in the backfield., but two 
men do not make a modern football team. Af- 
ter a not too promising early season, this team 
met Princeton and was badly beaten in the first 
half. Largely by the ^efforts of Coy and Phiibin, 
the team rallied in the second half and managed 
to win. 

But sharp eyes had probed its early-season weak- 
nesses, and a new coach at Harvard was preparing 
to take advantage of them. He was an untried 
man, Percy D. Haughton, who had spent one au- 
tumn coaching at Cornell, and had served in a 
minor capacity on previous Harvard coaching 
staffs. He was no match for Camp in experience, 
but he came very near to being a match for him 
as a student of the game. His innovations at 
Soldier's Field were all practical* For instance, 
there had been only one tackling dummy for the 
squad, so that hours were wasted while each man 
waited for his chance to use it. Haughton in- 
stalled six dummies. He remarked grimly to his 
men that a football season is a matter of hours, and 
not of months, and that he proposed to use each 
minute to the full. HaughtonV victories were all 
due to this 'insistence on hard facts. It is not 

I2 4 

lie expected to beat Yale in that 
first year of his coaching. But he did. 

He Yale at New Haven with a Harvard 

which had tied Annapolis, and had succeeded 
in reversing bad defeats inflicted during the year 
by Carlisle and by Dartmouth. The Har- 
vard line was not the sluggish line it had been in 
former seasons. Coached by Graves of West Point, 
the played with a certain " frightfulness " 

which was allowable under the existing rules. The 
backfield men were well drilled in simple plays; 
and there was an end., G. G. Browne, who could be 
depended on to catch punts and not fumble them, 
thus removing one of the possible breaks of the 
game. But Harvard suffered a serious loss on the 
eve of the game, due to injuries which kept its best 
player and captain, F. H. Burr, out of action. 

Despite Haughton's sensible preparations, the 
Yale team would have won by a moderate score 
had not Harvard's quarterback, Cutler, been able 
to exploit the temporary weakness at one end of the 
Yale line. This weakness lasted just long enough 
for Harvard to carry the ball forward into a posi- 
tion from which V. P. Kennard, a substitute, 
scored a field goal. For the rest of the game Har- 
vard was called on to resist the same kind of attack 
which had overcome Princeton a week earlier. At 
one time, another good kick this time a punt, 
by H. B. Sprague took Harvard out of a peril- 
ous situation on her own goal line. But Yale's 


great chance came when her quarterback^ J. F. 
Johnson, ordered a surprise forward from a 

position twenty yards In front of the Harvard 

goal. To Walter Camp, listening for the signals 

on the side lines, this seemed the most critical 
moment in the game. A touchdown would wipe 
out Harvard's lead, and would restore Yale*s spirit. 

On receiving the ball, Johnson ran backward 
and to one side. Turning, he sent the ball spin- 
ning over the scrimmage line. 

William S, Langford, veteran official,, watched 
the play and knew that it was the turning point in 
the game. The rules required the ball to pass 
over the scrimmage line at least five yards on one 
side or the other of the point at which the play 
began. As the Yale quarterback let the ball fly 
from his hand, Langford marked its flight and ran 
forward, blowing his whistle. The ball had passed 
through the prohibited zone. A Yale man caught 
it, and fought his way to Harvard's five-yard line 
before he was downed. Had the pass been allowed, 
it would have placed the Yale team in a perfect 
position from which to score. But the pass went 
for nothing, and the game ended with Harvard 
leading, 4-0. 

Walking off the field, Langford met Camp in 
the dark tunnel which led under the old grand- 
stand on Yale Field. 

"What was the matter with that forward pass ?" 
demanded Camp. 


briefly explained why he had recalled 
the bail On the Monday morning after the game, 
he on his the letter that follows : 

NEW HAVEN, Nov. 24, 1908 
Dear Mr. Langford : 

1 Just drop you this line in case you have not seen 
the statements in the newspapers made immediately 
after the game. 

I took pleasure in writing in my article that night 
for the newspapers, and Coach Biglow also said, as did 
I believe also one or two others, that there could be no 
question whatsoever about the accuracy of your de- 
cision on the forward pass and that you were in a posi- 
tion to see and that you caught it previous to its being 
caught by Brides. 

I wish to thank you for your work in the game, 
which was first class. With best wishes, believe me, 
very truly yours, 


This letter is in attractive harmony with Camp's 
ideal of sportsmanship. He had feared that his 
abrupt question, in the gloomy tunnel leading 
under the field, might have caused Langford to 
think he was complaining. Complaint against a 
decision, no matter how close or how important, 
was abhorrent to Camp. Therefore he took care 
to inform the referee that he considered the deci- 
sion right and fair. Not many men would have 
done so. Yet that decision contributed indirectly 


to the end of Camp's career as advisor 

of football at Yale. 

Every lover of football must regret that Haugh- 
ton and Camp were pitted against each other only 
twice. Harvard won the first of those two 
and Yale the second. Haughton was obliged to do^ 
quickly what had taken Camp a lifetime that is, 
to develop a sound and enduring football system. 
Nobody can tell what might have happened if 
Haugh ton's great elevens of 1914 and 1915 had 
met teams coached by Camp. It is sufficient to 
say that these men had great respect for one an- 
other, and that the games which were played in 
those years suffered, from a Yale standpoint, by 
the absence of Yale's great strategist. 

However, it is not necessary to tell here about 
the gloom that fell upon Yale football after Camp 
retired, nor should the details of his withdrawal be 
given. His work was done. And it was not only 
in preparing football teams, and In sowing the 
seeds of victory in other sports, that this work was 
effective. As treasurer of the Yale Field Associa- 
tion, he had saved its funds religiously from year 
to year ; it is an extraordinary tribute to the Yale 
spirit of mutual confidence that no accounting was 
demanded. When Walter Camp came forward at 
last with a fund of $135,000, there were indeed 
a few men who thought he was laying too much 
stress on the commercial side of athletics. But 
these objections disappeared when he explained 


fund might not only help to build a worthy 
arena for games, but would help 

such sports as rowing, from which no revenue can 
be derived, and also the freshman sports, and so- 
minor sports, that are so beneficial to the 
players, but which cannot earn their own way. 
Such sports had previously been supported by a 
burdensome system of taxes (miscalled subscrip- 
tions) levied upon the undergraduates. Now 
Walter Camp pointed out that this levy could be 
abolished. He had a very clear vision of the great 
modern football arenas that will seat more than 
fifty thousand spectators and will provide almost 
unlimited revenue for all worthy athletic purposes. 
Camp's resignation from all official connection 
with Yale athletics came In 1910. He retired after 
long and anxious thought., with the conviction' that 
this action would be best for Yale. In this conclu- 
sion, as many Yale men tried to persuade him 
during the remaining years of his life, he was seri- 
ously mistaken. He consented, after much pres- 
sure, to come down to the practice field occasion- 
al^ and to advise the coaches and captain. But 
the old system disappeared with him, and the 
amazing series of Yale victories disappeared too. 
It was the end of a regime and a dynasty the 
beginning of anarchy and defeat. Never again 
was Walter Camp to serve upon any Yale com- 
mittee for the teaching or the administration of 


THE decay in Yale athletics, which, set in after 
Walter Camp's retirement as chief advisor to the 
football teams, came so rapidly that it can be 
summarized by the scores of the games. In 1911, 
a scoreless tie was played with Harvard. In 1912, 
Harvard won by 20-0, in 1913 by 15-53 in 1914 by 
36-0, and in 1915 by 41-0. Such victories tell 
their own story of an increasing confidence on the 
part of Harvard, and of growing demoralization at 
Yale. There were seasons after, not only Prince- 
ton and Harvard but many other colleges discov- 
ered that Yale had softened and was ripe for de- 
feat, when many Yale men were almost unwilling 
to pick up their newspapers and read the score of 
the game on the day before. Instead of giving 
these scores at more length, it may be permissible 
to quote some lines in which the Harvard Lampoon 
showed that it was well known in Cambridge why 
Yale, minus Walter Camp, was traveling so rapidly 
to defeat. The lines are addressed to Dean Briggs. 
They begin with the statement that Yale's athletic 
supremacy is dead and burled. From this point 
they continue : 

Gabriel's Trump could not awake her, she will never reappear 
Undefeated, as we knew her, when she held her title clear 

I3 o CAMP 

To the blue-bosomed triumph stretching on from year 

to year 

In years of Yale's abundance ere she loosed her Iron 

Who prepared her gaudy conquests, who around the evening 

Coached the coaches at New Haven ? We remember Walter 


Cool, resourceful, cunning, ' patient. Dimly might we then 

Any hope to break the shackles; still you bade us live and 

Never doubting right would triumph,, or the longest worm 

would turn. 

After thirty years of glory, full of honor and renown, 
Camp went back to making clockworks and the star of Yale 

went down ! 
Princeton beat her soft elevens, so did Colgate, sp did Brown. 

Wash. & Jeff, harpooned her freely; Boston knocked her 

for a goal ; 
Harvard's annual performance must have warmed your iron 

When the frog-like chorus faltered in their horror-haunted 


Amid the clamor of such balladry,, and the con- 
sternation of sports writers who had been taught 
by long experience to regard Yale teams as almost 
invincible, it was known to most people that 
Camp's hand was no longer on the wheel, and that 
Yale had dropped the pilot. 


In point of fact. Camp came occasionally to 
Yale Field after his retirement, but he came with- 
out his old authority. He was like a retired gen- 
eral who may be allowed to visit headquarters but 
who is not entrusted with even a shred of com- 
mand. A force had departed. 

George Chad wick tells In a letter how most Yale 
men regarded Walter Camp during the thirty 
seasons when he was the great intelligence behind 
Yale's teams : 

Whatever may have been my personal ideas about 
college football, and the lack of balance in the promi- 
nence given it [writes Mr. Chadwick], I nevertheless 
had a job to do at New Haven when I was captain, and 
I thought seriously enough about it. Walter Camp 
had at that time no official position in connection with 
Yale football. In those days the captain was boss. 
But he was there to use, if one wanted him, and I sought 
him out deliberately as the greatest aid a Yale captain 
could have. I have been trying to recall colorful inci- 
dents about Camp, and I can't, except for the one I 
have already related to you my call at his office on 
the morning of the Princeton game the year I was 
coach, the extreme nervousness he showed, and my 
surprise and pleasure in it; for I had never seen him 
nervous before and I was delighted to find that he was 
human after all. 

What does stand out in my mind is a sort of hovering 
force, that wisely and unobtrusively guided me in my 
thoughts and actions: a force that held an amazing 
amount of football knowledge, and the benefit of the 

Yak tradition a tradition in those 

certainly of football success. If one may call a 
man a force, I like to pay tribute to Walter 

Camp as that force. 

I am not thinking of eulogizing him. I don't like 
biographies that merely eulogize, and I hope your 
biography of Camp will not be that kind. The more 
clearly and honestly a biographer puts before you^both 
the faults and virtues of a man who has accomplished 
things, the better the man emerges in his true power. 
But I have searched my memory, and I can find noth- 
ing in my contact with Camp that in any way shat- 
tered the high ideals of youth,, or that emphasized 
wrong ideals or impractical ideals. The college boy is 
an idealist, full of unselfish devotion. It is my remem- 
brance that Walter Camp sanely fostered this idealism 
in his contact with young men. He was out to win 
which is a good thing to foster, too. But he was never 
out to win, so far as I can recall, by any evasion of the 
rules or of the spirit of fair play. He often said to me : 
"We must always be just a little ahead of the other 
fellow," and he continually brought up many minute 
details of play, any one of which might mean the differ- 
ence between victory and defeat. Football was, I 
believe, the background of Camp's whole life. And 
yet, what he expressed through his football interest 
was a much bigger thing than a mere constructive 
interest in a game. If one impresses himself as Camp 
did, the medium matters little. 

I have been reading further in Lord Jim and have 
come to the elderly French lieutenant. Conrad's 
description of him makes me think of Camp. It reads : 

THE 133 

"His imperturbable mature calmness that of 
an expert in of the facts, and to one's 

perplexities are mere child's play." When I 
Camp he reached a maturity, but he did n't 

give you the feeling that your perplexities were child's 
play but were of importance which is better. 

In that period of my life Walter Camp was a real 
and good influence. So must he have been to many 
other Yale men^ similarly placed. And the fact that I 
rarely think about football nowadays does n't make his 
influence of less present value. What is genuine and 
true lasts most surely. 

The removal of the force that was Walter Camp 
from Yale's football coaching had an effect not 
only on the football teams, but on the other teams. 
Victory is infectious, and defeat is more so. Har- 
vard won the baseball series from Yale in 1911, 
1913, 1915, &nd 1916; still more surprisingly , on 
account of past records, Harvard won the race at 
New London for six consecutive years, beginning 
in 1908. Yale won no intercollegiate track meet 
between 1908 and 1916, during which period the 
championships were monopolized by Cornell and 
Pennsylvania, with a single victory for Harvard. 
Yale did win five dual track meets from Harvard, 
between 1909 and 1916, and lost only three; this 
was practically Yale's only success in major sports 
between Camp's retirement and the World War. 
Yale won the hockey game from Harvard in 19085 
only to lose thirteen out of the next fifteen games. 


The suggestion has been made that Camp found 
a certain grim satisfaction in Yale's defeats during 
period. This is a lie. He suffered as much in 
spirit as any other loyal Yale man. It was said 
that Yale had ceased to be a virile, athletic college, 
and was becoming addicted to literary aesthetics. 
And this too was false. Yale had never been pri- 
marily an athletic college, and her sudden interest 
in literary things would have come about whether 
her athletic teams were winning or not. But these 
teams had won constant successes while Camp was 
at the helin > and the slump began as soon as he 
withdrew. He viewed it with genuine sorrow. 
Certain Job's comforters tried to suggest to him 
that victory and defeat come in cycles. He could 
not agree, believing that victory comes because you 
prepare for it, and so does defeat. Camp had 
shown that, under intelligent leadership, it is pos- 
sible to win games continually for a period of thirty 
years. If that is a mere swing of the pendulum, 
it is a long swing. He knew that nothing succeeds 
like success, or fails like failure. The "cyclic" 
theory of competitive athletics is a delusion. 

It was never necessary for Walter Camp to prove 
his intense loyalty to Yale; but in the years of 
athletic famine through which Yale was now pass- 
ing he had abundant opportunity to prove his 
sportsmanship. Each year he reviewed the season 
for the Official Football Guide. He made no refer- 
ence to the obvious fact that Yale teams were 


poorly coached. On the contrary, he paid trib- 
ute to the improved coaching at Harvard, under 
Percy D. Haughton, and he rejoiced in the order 
which W. W. Roper brought into Princeton's 
affairs after the war. And whenever a first-rate 
Yale player appeared on Yale's ill-prepared and 
ill-fated teams. Camp paid him generous homage. 
For instance, he selected for his All-America Team 
such great players as J. R. Kilpatrick, D. M. 
Bomeisler, EL H. Ketcham, and N. S. Talbott. 
These men struggled valiantly in the face of defeats 
of a kind that had never come before to Yale. 
Camp recognized their quality and published 
it. A great player is often made doubly great 
by the presence of a good team all around him. 
These men, notably Ketcham and Talbott, were 
obliged to play under great handicaps, and with- 
out the satisfaction of victory. But Walter Camp 
recognized their ability, and gave them the great- 
est distinction which remained in his hands to 

A man of the petty type would have grasped 
the opportunity that Camp had at this time. He 
could have readily attributed Yale ? s failures to 
his own absence from headquarters. But he kept 
himself free from meanness. He was called a 
"has been/' He might have retorted that it was 
better to be that than a "never was." But he 
did not make such retorts. It is significant that 
he came through the period in which he lost his 


athletic prominence at Yale without losing the 
respect of his associates. 

He served as usefully as ever on the Football 
Committee after 1910., although the sweep- 
ing reforms which had been made in that year 
and in the preceding years had removed the old 
public hatred of the game and the need of sweeping 
reforms. Every year he improved the new game 
which his unthinking critics believed he did not 
understand. He went to as many games as ever, 
traveling widely to do so, and collecting each year 
an increasing amount of data for use in football 
legislation, and for guidance in selecting his All- 
America Team. Once it had been merely neces- 
sary to watch the old "Big Four/' together with 
Chicago,, Michigan., Cornell, Illinois, and a few 
others. But now Camp found it necessary to have 
eyes in California and in the South. Nothing in 
Ms career was more mysterious to the public at 
large than the All-America Team. It appeared 
originally as a journalistic feature in Collier s 
Weekly. The first team, in 1889, included (as you 
will find in Appendix A) five Princeton men, and 
three each from Yale and Harvard. But it was 
not for long that these teams were to monopolize 
either Camp's attention or the best football players 
in the country. Pennsylvania, Cornell, Carlisle; 
Chicago, West Point, Columbia, Dartmouth, and 
Michigan soon contributed men to the teams. A 
little later you find Pennsylvania State College, 


Nebraska, Indiana, Wisconsin, Lafayette, and 
Minnesota players on the three teams which Camp 
picked. Holy Cross and Notre Dame soon fol- 
lowed, and presently there were men from Vander- 
bilt, Alabama, Oregon, California, and others. 

The All-America Team proved extremely popu- 
lar. It was regularly copied on the sports page of 
practically every newspaper that had a sports page. 
The name became a household word. It was not 
by any means the first household word that Camp 
coined nor was it to be the last. Remember 
"quarterback" and "Daily Dozen/' But there 
were countless imitations : All-Eastern Teams, 
All-Western Teams, All-Scholastic Teams, and 
many more. The Walter Camp All-America Foot- 
ball Teams, indeed, gave great impetus to the 
modern mania for picking the twelve immortals 
in literature, the fifty best books in the world, the 
six greatest men who have ever lived, and the 
other lists of this kind which are now so common. 
(The purist may notice that the word is "All- 
America." It is usually misspelled, "All-Amer- 

Any list which wins popularity also courts criti- 
cism, and the critics of the All-America Teams 
from year to year finally reached the conclusion 
that it was impossible for Camp to see all the dif- 
ferent teams play (which was true), and that he 
could not accordingly pick the best men (which 
was false). For he quietly organized a remarkable 


of reporting. His correspondents saw all 
the players, and reported to him systematically 
throughout the season. These assistants included 
many coaches who had played with Camp, or been 
taught by him. There were also many former 
players who kept up their interest in the game, 
and not a few newspaper men who really knew 
football They took their duties very seriously. 
"In twenty-four years of football at Michigan/' 
said Fielding H. Yost 5 "I recommended only eleven 
Michigan players. I recommended only men of 
the type of Heston, Schulz, Benbrook, Craig, and 
others who were outstanding stars., men of unusual 
ability and character." 

From the enormous mass of notes that came to 
Camp, he selected at the beginning of each season 
a squad of perhaps one hundred men. Then, 
from week to week, on the ground of supplementary 
recommendations and from his own observation 
of the players whom he watched in practice, and 
in the most important games of the season, Camp 
cut this squad down on paper, just as he would 
have cut it down on the field. He thought noth- 
ing of traveling hundreds of miles to see a single 
player. At the end of the season, he had his first, 
second, and third teams. He always thought of 
the All-America as a team, and not merely as eleven 
star players. For instance, in 1899 he wrote: 

"If it be luck that has enabled this young man 
(Poe of Princeton) to win two games from Yale, 


then Ms luck is worth adding to the national team, 
if only for superstition's sake. Besides, we may 
want a man who can kick a goal under extreme 

He writes "we may want/* which shows as 
clearly as anything can that be regarded the All- 
America as a team preparing to play a game. It 
may console many men who did not find their 
names upon it to know that Camp never said that 
it contained the eleven best players in America. 
There was never room for two centres, or three 
guards or tackles. In very rare cases, room was 
found for a peculiarly versatile player by putting 
him in a position not regularly his own. In 1904, 
for example, he chose eleven men for the team, with 
Stevenson of Pennsylvania as quarterback. But 
there was at Chicago a brilliant star, whom Camp 
regarded as only slightly inferior in that year to 
Stevenson. "Regarding Eckersall," he wrote, "I 
have placed him at end, only after choosing all the 
rest of my team, and endeavoring to put myself 
into the position I should assume as coach and 
were I faced with the responsibility of selecting 
from the array of material a man who would serve 
me best on the team as it went into actual play. 
Weede of Pennsylvania, Gillespie of West Point, 
and Glaze of Dartmouth all would suit me well for 
a mate to Shevlin at end. But I believe that these 
men (and I know something of their unselfishness 
on teams) would, if threatened with the actual 

i 4 o WALTER 

situation, agree with me in preserving my back- 
intact, and securing a kicker by placing 
the marvelous kicker, and brilliant tackier 
and runner, Eckersall, on the other end next to 

Camp had chosen a backfield quartet brilliant in 
everything except kicking. Rather than disrupt 
it, he went past three regular ends whose perform- 
ances had certainly entitled them to a position, 
and elected as his second end a backfield player 
whose kicking ability would help the team. And 
Camp appealed on the ground of loyalty and 
sportsmanship to three great players he had dis- 
appointed, knowing that they were big enough to 
understand his reason. Weede and Gillespie and 
Glaze were All-America men in 1904. Their 
names are not on the team, but Camp saw to it 
that their unselfishness would not pass without 
notice. In the following year one finds Eckersall 
at his regular position of quarterback, while Glaze 
has been placed at end. 

Comparatively few men ever "made" Walter 
Camp's All-America Team for two years or more. 
Among them are such football immortals as Frank 
Hinkey (4 years), W. W. Heffelfinger (3 years), 
Traxton Hare (4 years), W. Heston (2 years), 
John De Witt (2 years), T. L. Shevlin (3 years), 
and E. W. Mahan (3 years). Walter Camp chose 
no man on account of past reputation, but only on 
the basis of each season's play. He agreed with 


Grantland Rice that "it is n't what you used to be, 
it ? s what you are to-day." 

The writer of this book sat with Walter Camp 
twice while the final selections were made, on the 
evenings after the West Point-Annapolis games. 
It was evident that Camp had no prejudice in favor 
of either Western or Eastern teams. He went 
entirely by the records of the players. He had a 
battery of small, technical, telling facts about 
each man, the little details of technique that only 
a trained observer can see. He made no effort to 
flatter eleven colleges by choosing a man from 
each one. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten 
all about the colleges, as he concentrated on the 
players. From his huge bundle of neatly classified 
and annotated notes, he picked a quarterback 
who he thought would be best fitted to direct the 
play of the team, and three other backs who would 
fit best with that quarterback and with one an- 
other. He made sure that he had not only a good 
kicker, but also a reserve kicker who could do well 
enough in an emergency. He was proceeding by 
the same careful methods through which, in the 
old days, he welded the Yale team together. He 
had no time for any other considerations. He was 
not thinking about different colleges, or about 
different sections of the country. For instance, if 
the Vanderbilt or the Dartmouth team had in- 
cluded the best man for every position, he would 
not have hesitated to name the whole eleven. 


It this scrupulous judgment, which spoke 

for itself when the team came to be published, 
promptly at the close of each season,, that made 
Its success. He published it in Colliers Weekly 
each autumn, out of a fine sense of loyalty to 
that periodical, although he could for a long time 
have sold it for more money to a newspaper syndi- 
cate. As a feature which every newspaper liked 
to print, it had a very high market value. Once, 
indeed, a thievish visitor to the shop in which it 
was printed actually stole the list, and tried to sell 
it in advance of its regular date of publication. To 
prevent this, the list was split up into three short 
" takes," which were assembled just before the 
weekly magazine went to press. This was an' 
extraordinary precaution, but it was justified by 
the widespread interest in the team. 

Walter Camp took a great deal of pride in his 
All-America Teams, and in the fact that no rival 
selections were successful in his lifetime. A maga- 
zine once hit upon a plan that seemed workable. 
Its editors sent letters to leading sports writers all 
over America and invited them to pick the best 
possible teams from their own observation and 
knowledge. Then a composite team was chosen, 
by listing the votes given to each player. Walter 
Camp looked at this team with interest. 

"Those are eleven good men," he said, "but the 
captain will be sorry to find out, in the game, that 
he has nobody who can kick the ball." 


None of Walter Camp's All-America Teams has 
a deficiency of this kind. Each Is fitted to play the 
best kind of winning football that was known in Its 
year. The men who were chosen are rightfully 
proud of the distinction. One autumn, a great 
player was taken ill soon after the close of the sea- 
son ; In fact, it was thought that by too strong 
loyalty to his team mates he had Insisted on con- 
cealing his true condition, and had played after 
becoming conscious of the symptoms of serious 
illness. A man who greatly admired this player 
wrote and asked If his name were Included on the 
All-America Team. Receiving an answer, he took 
the trouble to make a long journey to his bedside 
and to give him the news. Even at that moment, 
it brought joy to the dying man. 

For a great many years Camp picked the All- 
America Team with increasing satisfaction and 
pleasure. He did not stop to calculate its cost to 
him, or he would have found that it was costing 
him much more than he was receiving for it. The 
All-America helped to make everyone realize his 
position at the head of football In this country, 
and it allowed him to play football games men- 
tally. The strain of "coaching the coaches" 
ended in 1910, but for fourteen years more he had 
the pleasure of sifting a large squad of the best 
players and of outlining in his* mind the games 
they would play against their opponents. He was 
a man of uncanny judgment in picking winners. 


not in alone, but in all the other games he 


For instance, after many years of almost undis- 
supremacy in court tennis, Jay Gould took 
up squash tennis and met the champion in that 
game, Fillmore Hyde, in a match for the title. For 
some time, Gould played Hyde off his feet. His 
great experience in court tennis, the force of his 
competitive personality, and the great brilliancy 
of his shots all made the spectators feel that he 
would win. But before the match was five min~ 
utes old, Camp whispered to his neighbor that 
Hyde was safe. Asked for his reason, he said that 
Hyde had a way of pivoting easily on his hips and 
could therefore put great force into what seemed 
an easy stroke; while Gould, less accustomed to 
the angles in the small court, was hitting largely 
with his arm muscles, and would surely feel the 
strain toward the end of the match. The result 
more than justified Camp's comment. 

At about the same time, Camp attended a na- 
tional golf tournament, played in Pennsylvania. 
He walked over the course one afternoon, noticing 
the depth and construction of the hazards. "I am 
looking for a big, well-muscled man, with large and 
strong forearms," he wrote on a postal card that 
evening to a friend. "Nobody else can stay this 
course in this heat/* The general opinion was 
that Evans or Jones would win. A day or two 
later, however, Camp wrote the name "Herron" 


on another postal. Evans and Jones did not meet 
his physical specifications, but Herron did. He 
was the darkest kind of a dark horse ; but on that 
course, and In that weather, he defeated Jones and 
won the championship. 

The classic story, however, of Camp's ability to 
observe small details and to make accurate deduc- 
tions Is one often told by Lorin F. Deland. In 
18963 Yale and Harvard did not meet in football, 
and Princeton met Harvard at Cambridge. Camp 
and Deland had been working together on their 
textbook, Football^ and they naturally took side- 
line seats together at the game. Harvard was 
out for revenge against Princeton, which had won 
the year before by virtue of a tremendous run of 
one hundred yards by H. M. Suter one of the 
longest ever seen on a football field. After ten 
minutes of play, Camp made the flat statement to 
Deland that Princeton would win again, basing 
this statement upon his observation that Princeton 
was trying to score, while Harvard was trying to 
keep from being scored upon. In the football 
chapter of his excellent book, At the Sign of the 
Dollar, published in 1917 by Harper & Brothers, 
Deland tells the rest of the story, as follows: 

When the first half was nearly finished without a 
score, our left end was injured. The best substitute 
was sent in to take his place. He was a seasoned player 
who had been captain of the Harvard team in the pre- 
vious season, and he had only one mania that was to 


Princeton, so I knew his spirit would be a riotous 
one. The ball was in Princeton's possession on Har- 
vard's 24-yard line. 1 was waiting for the signal for 
play Camp suddenly turned to me and said, 

"Watch this play closely; // is going to be a touchdown 
for Princeton" Five seconds afterward the ball came 
back and a Princeton runner went through the Harvard 
line twenty-four yards for the prophesied score. In 
sheer amazement at his ability to call the critical play 
in advance, I turned to Camp for an explanation. He 
said it was perfectly simple. "I saw Princeton's quar- 
terback looking at the substitute. That made me look 
at him. Your man was excited like one who, playing 
on the end of the line, would defy caution, rush head- 
long into the defense, and overrun his man. As the 
Princeton quarterback never took his eyes off your 
man, I suspected that the play was going against him. 
It was a sure enough opening. The only question was, 
Did the Princeton quarter see it ? Well, he did." 

In other words, Camp saw the nervously excited 
substitute, and he saw that the Princeton quarter- 
back saw him. The play was a brilliant one ; the quar- 
terback who detected the weak spot gave a still more 
brilliant exhibition ; but to my mind the man on the 
side lines who reasoned the whole thing out in a cold- 
blooded way gave the most brilliant exhibition of 

Walter Camp gained leisure in the years after 
1910. In business, as in football, he had passed 
out of the period of hard, nervous competition into 
the quieter work of an advisor. His duties, both 


In sport and in business, did not become easier, but 
they took less time, and left him free for a number 
of minor avocations. He wrote a manual of bridge 
whist, and did other desultory work of no great 
importance. His days of long business applica- 
tion were nearly over. It had been an interest- 
ingly continuous career, very unlike that of men 
who are wooed by impatience away from one job 
and into another. In 1883 he joined the sales 
force of the Manhattan Watch Company in New 
York City, leaving it, after the only winter in his 
life he ever spent entirely out of New Haven, to 
enter the employ of the New Haven Clock Com- 
pany. These new employers sent him to New York 
again for a short time, after which he returned to 
its factory and main office in New Haven, where 
he was to remain uninterruptedly for more than 
forty years. In 1886 he was made manager of 
the sales department; in January 1893 he was 
elected assistant treasurer. He found the com- 
pany's finances in a complicated position. He was 
mature and experienced enough to attack this 
problem with deliberation. As one of his asso- 
ciates says of him, he was not spectacular in his 
methods, "but could inspect any situation, from 
the lie of a golf ball to the future movement of the 
interest rate on money, without noticing elements 
which had no special importance, no matter how 
these might intrude on him." 

Camp knew which of his own prejudices would 


clarify and which would help Ms judgment- He 
was a very careful man. He was not an impetu- 
ous, lightning-swift driver of other men. He dis- 
liked to make quick decisions. In fact, he was 
probably unable by nature to arrive at conclusions 
with a bound. Some successful business execu- 
tives have a strange faculty of coming all at once 
to a decision, and they find in a remarkably large 
number of instances that the quick decision was 
the right one. Camp, by contrast, was a plodder. 
He not only was unable to reach the right decision 
quickly, but was unable to reach any decision 
quickly. He hated all emergencies which required 
an abrupt opinion. He possessed unusual fore- 
sight, which made such emergencies unlikely to 
occur* Just as he tried in football to be "a jump 
ahead of the other fellow," so he tried in business 
to keep ahead of events. When he could foresee 
events, as he was likely to do on account of his 
freedom from distractions, he did not hesitate to 
shape a plan* He had, moreover, great tenacity 
of faith, based on confidence in his own judgment. 
This enabled him to hold firmly to a charted course, 
in spite of seeming discouragements. He believed 
that a sound policy would remain a sound policy, 
even though threatened by difficulties arising after 
its adoption. These qualities invested him with a 
business judgment that was more than merely 
shrewd. Walter Camp was canny. 

I realize, as I write these words, that they do 


not present a lively picture of a business career. 
Camp's business career was not lively. It cannot 
be made to seem so. He did not have, in forty 
years, as many vicissitudes and adventures in busi- 
ness as James J* Hill, for instance, or as Edward 
H. Harriman often crowded into forty days. He 
was inferior to them in business ambition. He did 
not like the kind of business adventures that made 
them famous. But he chose his own career wisely, 
knowing his own limitations. 

By 1902 he had become treasurer and general 
manager of the New Haven Clock Company, and 
a year later he was elected president. He never 
felt much interest in the factory, devoting him- 
self to the financial and selling side of the business. 
Edwin P. Root, who had emerged into promi- 
nence from the manufacturing division of the com- 
pany at the time when Camp was winning his 
way forward among its salesmen, took over the 
burdens of the manufacturing department. Later 
he became president of the company, while Camp 
took up what was to him more congenial advisory 
work as chairman of the board of directors. 
Camp had one attribute which most men lack, 
and which Root appraised at its full value. "Wal- 
ter Camp was a nationally known man," he said. 
"In any situation where a difficult piece of nego- 
tiation was necessary, Camp's prominence made 
him invaluable. Any man in America was flat- 
tered to meet him. He could represent us before 


any committee, or at any meeting, and do us 
unusual credit." 

The business career which Camp mapped out 
for himself was not an exciting one, but it was the 
right career for a man who had an absorbing 
special interest outside of business. It brought him 
a snug fortune. Only a few months before his sud- 
den death, he said to his wife : "Whatever happens 
to me, Alice, you will be comfortable. We Ve 
saved two hundred and fifty thousand dollars." 
Then, with a burst of his instinctive generosity, 
he added : "You did it, Alice !" When his estate 
was appraised, the sum proved to be much larger 
than he had said. And Mrs. Camp had not known, 
or sought to know, how much he was making at 
any time. This was the unusual kind of family 
who know how to control their expenses, even 
while their income is increasing. They were never 
in that spendthrift class which lives comfortably 
at first on thirty dollars a week, aind then becomes 
poor on thirty thousand dollars a year. 

Walter Camp found in the New Haven Clock 
Company a sufficiently wide field for all the busi- 
ness success he cared about. He was not tied to 
his desk, like so many business men, but could 
get away often for an afternoon or a week. He 
was not among the men who pretend to despise 
business success, but he would have been sorely 
pained in spirit if he had not become the leading 
man in his company, or had found himself lacking 


the comforts which he had known as a boy. His 
father, Leverett L. Camp, was a school-teacher^ 
and could not earn much money; but he owned 
a good deal of property in New Britain and Meri- 
den. The family lived in a large and comfortable 
house, with a summer home on Martha's Vineyard, 
and their son was given nearly everything that he 
expressed a desire for. Life was simpler then, of 
course, and boys did not have extravagant desires. 
Walter Camp's mother was a woman of unusual 
refinement. Her son inherited from her his high 
ideals and his love of poetry. She always had at 
least one servant, and when she baked one of the 
chocolate cakes which the men who came to the 
house when they were boys still remember, she 
did so because she enjoyed their appreciation, and 
not because she was forced to do her own work. 

Toward the end of his life, Walter Camp's 
father lost his money, and Camp was obliged to 
make his own way. He had therefore more re- 
spect for money than if he had merely inherited it. 
He pursued the old and unbeatable plan of earn- 
ing a little more than he spent, and of investing 
the surplus wisely. He was ready at all times to 
take advice from those early friends who had be- 
come leading figures in finance. 

The years before the war found him busy with 
a variety of interests, but he was not particularly 
satisfied. Collier's Weekly had dropped the "Out- 
door America " department which had interested 


Camp for a long time. Once, indeed, he had been 
to take a leading part in the administration 
and editing of that side of the weekly, but his other 
interests had prevented his acceptance. He found 
that there is little advantage in contributing, at 
long range, to a magazine, especially when one's 
contributions take the form of editorial comment 
on events that are cold before the paragraphs are 
published. Camp enjoyed writing in his library 
after dinner, but the journalistic side of his life had 
worn thin. It was to be revived later in the form 
of regular and successful work for a newspaper 
syndicate; but there was a time when Camp felt 
the dejection and sense of futility that comes to 
all writers. There was no real outlet, for a while, 
for his strong vitality. Yale no longer wanted 
him as a football coach. Business success had 
come, and no longer absorbed his real interest. 
He had a very genuine horror of slipping into a 
rather lazy old age. Yet he did not feel old. He 
was beginning to earn regular dividends on the 
fund of physical strength which he had been 
laying up for himself. 

It is even true that he felt a certain hard-to- 
define, vague impatience with the football men 
with whom he had worked so long. It would be 
absurd to say that he ever grew bored, for one 
moment, with football itself. But there are some 
letters of his to William H. Langford that may be 
quoted in this place. In one of them he wrote : 


My patience has been strained almost to the break- 
ing point, for many years, with quarrels of all kinds, 
and my only reason for burdening you with them is 
your good nature, and also the fact that I believe we 
ought to have more brains on the job. 

In another letter, this paragraph shows Camp's 
sense of the burden he had been carrying : 

I want to thank you for your cooperation, and all the 
work you have done in these answers to queries. This 
has indeed been a great help to all of us. It was bad 
enough in the twenty years when I was doing it alone, 
but I do think that this year the queries have shown a 
little more sense, and that speaks well for the improve- 
ment of understanding. 

And a little later we find him writing : 

I should have written you earlier, telling you how 
much I appreciated your coming up that night so that 
we might go over the rules. It would have been so 
easy for you not to do it, and it was such a great help 
to me, that I must write and say what a brick you are 
on all occasions and under all conditions. 

These are the letters of a man somewhat troubled 
in spirit. He was like an old knight hovering, a 
little wistfully, on the edge of the tourney field. 
There was no doubt, in the minds of his friends, 
that he missed the old thrill of accomplishment, 
the old and happy days when, like Ulysses, 
whom in more ways than one he resembled, he 


had been accustomed "to drink delight of battle 
with his peers." 

But then came a sound, literally, of trumpets ; 
and he found himself riding back into the field. 

The war brought a new set of personal problems 
into every man's life. At the outset, the war 
gave Walter Camp a chance for renewed business 
activity. He enjoyed this new draft on his energy. 
Foreign orders came in, and could not be filled for 
lack of cargo space. Camp was greatly interested 
in finding ways not only of selling clocks but of 
packing them of packing more of them, for 
instance, into a hundred cubic feet of space than 
had ever been packed before. There was a sudden 
shortage of materials and labor, affording new 
problems to be solved. Then, with the entry of 
America into the war, all business considerations 
left Camp's mind. Men of his age were showing 
their characters, now, more than they had ever 
shown them. Some were hurrying to Washing- 
ton ; others were staying sulkily at home, won- 
dering why Washington did not send for them. 
Many were going to recruiting offices. A few 
were hiding from the call to duty. Others were 
guessing correctly that the one great chance in all 
their lives to make money easily had come. The 
whole structure of men's lives was changing. 
Walter Camp made no rapid decision. The call, 
when it came to him, was one that he did not 
expect. It took the form of a letter from a naval 


officer., complaining of the system of physical 
exercise prescribed for recruits, and asking Camp 
if he could suggest something better. 

A little investigation at the naval training sta- 
tions persuaded Camp that this criticism was well 
founded. He found that his correspondent had 
been right in saying that the old-fashioned setting- 
up drill exhausted the men who followed it faith- 
fully, while the men who wished to take it lightly 
were able to go through the motions without doing 
any real work. "I had casually examined the 
various forms of Swedish setting-up drills before 
this time/' wrote Camp, "but I had not realized 
that they strongly invite staleness and over- 

For several weeks Camp watched the incoming 
recruits, and he paid attention, too, to the men 
who were rejected. Never before had he seen so 
many boys in need of physical training. He was 
horrified by the prevalence of flat feet; of other 
mechanical defects in the bones and joints of the 
hands and feet ; of tuberculosis ; and of other 
preventable troubles. Surgeon-General Ireland 
was to publish, after the war, the statistics which 
showed that of the 2,753,922 men examined for 
service, 1,320,934, or 48 per cent, were rejected 
as unfit. "This," said Camp, "is the most damn- 
ing arraignment of a great country that has ever 
been published. I could believe that some such 
result would have been found in an examination 


of older men. But these were boys and young men , 
the flower of our young manhood* What kind of 
attention have we given them at school ? What 
kind of ignorance must have existed in their 
homes ? In the hour of need we found that nearly 
half of them had been too badly fed and too badly 
shod, or were too full of preventable disease, to be 
able to lead the simple outdoor life of a soldier in 

But it was not with the unfit men that Camp 
was to deal at this moment. He put on a uni- 
form, and began to labor with those who were fit. 
He was struck by their lack of resistance to disease. 

At the first station I visited, [he wrote] the hospital 
was a pest house. Lads were in bed with sharp attacks 
of measles, or sitting around in the throes of mumps, 
chicken pox, and other children's diseases. Their bodies 
offered little resistance to the bacteria that carried these 
minor plagues ; and they were in equally poor condi- 
tion to resist serious contagions like meningitis, scarlet 
fever, and influenza. The surgeons were keenly alert 
to prevent the spread of such diseases, but their efforts 
were largely negatived by the overtiming effect of the 
setting-up drill. My task was to devise a simple sys- 
tem of movements that would build resistance not 
crush it. That was why I worked out the Daily Dozen. 

Twelve simple movements were found to meet the 
needs, so the young men would resist fatigue as well as 
contagion. Having worked out these movements, I 
tried them on classes of men, emphasizing that they 


were to be done lightly and naturally, more in the spirit 
of refreshment than with lips compressed, lungs heaving, 
and muscles tightly flexed. 

It is a curious thing that Walter Camp should 
have been fifty-eight years old when this work en- 
gaged his attention. There are countries In which 
he would have been invited into public service 
long before a war came along. But he was faced by 
the strange American indifference to health, so 
remarkable in a nation that is deeply interested 
in cures for disease. Preventive measures of all 
kinds have been unpopular in America. There is 
widespread love of patent medicines, to be taken 
after the symptoms show themselves ; but there is 
no national fondness for fresh air in sleeping-rooms, 
for inoculation in any form, or for regular exer- 
cise. Camp had been thrown, all his life, with 
young athletes from among the upper class men 
to whom the use of the toothbrush, for instance, 
is as natural as breakfast itself. Now, for the first 
time, Camp met the common man in large num- 
bers : the flat-footed, ill-nourished, unequally de- 
veloped man, who takes no interest in hygiene. 
Walter Camp expected to find strong, vigorous 
boys who needed only a little hardening. He 
remarked after a few weeks of experience that it 
was torture to him to watch the average boy strip 
for physical examination. Camp himself had per- 
fect digestion ; he had a taut, springy, muscular 


coat of armor all over him. He never caught 
cold, or suffered from headaches and bilious at- 
tacks. He walked like an Indian, with his feet 
straight and a fine swinging roll of his leg from 
the hip. His chest was deep. He sat and stood 
bolt upright the kind of man who resists 
fatigue and illness, who can keep going indefinitely. 

Having taught the Daily Dozen to the physical 
instructors at the naval training stations, Camp 
went by request to Washington. No man went 
there during the war on a more important mission. 
It was up to him to find a way of keeping the 
highest government officials from breaking down 
under the strain of the war. Men had cracked in 
Great Britain and France. The history of the war 
will never be written in terms of the health of the 
men who directed it,. but it might well be. And so 
might the history of the years of the peace which 
have followed. 

However, it was a piece of good fortune for the 
men who sent for Camp that they did not send 
for any one of a dozen other men, proprietors 
of health farms and institutes. For Camp merely 
announced that a voluntary morning class would 
meet at 7 : 30 A.M. behind the Treasury Building. 
The Cabinet attended this class. They came to 
the first meeting with visions of back-breaking 
setting-up drill. Camp merely had them take off 
their coats and run through the Daily Dozen once, 
and lightly. Therefore they came again. They 


expected dietary mies 5 but Camp suggested none. 
He advised a bath and rabdown before breakfast 5 
nothing more. It was a light regime^ but it suc- 
ceeded. Not a man in that class broke down until 
the war ended 3 and many of them continued to do 
the Daily Dozen after the strain was gone. 

It Is a pity, perhaps^ that the Daily Dozen was 
not made part of the official regulations of the 
Army and Navy. For It is safe to say that not 
many discharged soldiers have seen the slightest 
reason for keeping up the hard, tedious, setting-up 
drill which they were taught. 

But Camp came out of the war with a great 
vision of new and greater public usefulness for 
himself. He saw that the Daily Dozen had pos- 
sibilities for greater usefulness than he had sup- 
posed when he devised it. He wondered how to 
exploit It. There were a few days when he thought 
seriously of accepting an offer from men who 
wanted to establish a Walter Camp Health Insti- 
tute, with himself at its head. But he put. this 
invitation by. He was not a doctor, and he had 
no ambition to become a Muldoon. He knew 
well, after reflection, that the proposed institute 
would not attract young men who wanted to keep 
fit, but would become a refuge for elderly wrecks 
who wanted to recover from excesses of all kinds. 
He contented himself by writing a magazine article 
about the Daily Dozen. This article had sudden, 
unexpected results. 


THE great-hearted nature of Walter Camp the 
quality that used to be called magnanimity 
proved itself when he gave away the Daily Dozen,, 
with no thought of personal gain. It was the same 
quality that he had shown so often in his football 
career,, as player and coach. For instance, there 
was a fine example of it after the Yale-Princeton 
game in 1911. 

Rain had fallen all through the night, and the 
field was sodden and soft. The most dangerous 
man on the Princeton team was Sam White, an end 
who had won the Princeton-Harvard game by mak- 
ing a long run after a Harvard try for a field goal 
had been blocked. But the whole Princeton team 
that year was formidable; it was one of those 
teams for which everything seems to go right. In 
its game against Dartmouth, earlier in the season, 
a try for goal fell short, bounded erratically, and 
then hopped over the crossbar. This contingency 
was not provided for in the rules, and Walter 
Camp and his associates were forced to legislate 
against it after that season. 

When Yale faced Princeton, on a sodden and 
soft field, White's ability to follow the ball showed 
itself almost at once. He picked up a fumbled ball 


near the Princeton goal line, and raced down the 
field with it. Close behind him ran Langford, the 
referee. From behind,, in a slightly quartering 
direction, came Arthur Howe, Yale's quarterback 
and captain. These three sped toward the Yale 
goal, with Howe gaining. On the five-yard line 
he dived at White from the rear. The Princeton 
man tumbled. Rolling over and over, he slid and 
stumbled the last few yards for a touchdown. 

It was up to Langford to decide whether the 
touchdown was legal or not. If Howe had caught 
White in his grasp, the ball was "dead" at the 
point where the tackle had been made. But 
Langford ruled that Howe had not tackled White, 
but had merely i.upset him by striking his heel 
with his shoulder. The touchdown was therefore 
allowed, and it won the game. A little later, a 
photograph was brought out which seemed to 
show Howe's arm encircling White's legs. When 
Langford was shown this photograph, he main- 
tained that the decision had been right that 
White had not been tackled and stopped. Camp's 
comment was brief: 

"You were right, Bill. Picture or no picture, 
you saw what happened." 

It was a game that he specially hoped Yale 
might win, for Walter Camp, Jr., was playing at 
halfback, where Walter Camp had played so many 
years before. But Camp could be trusted to 
accept decisions in the spirit of a chivalrous gen- 


who plays for the sake of the game, and 
who watches it in the same spirit. The decisions 
in football often take victory away from one side 
and give it to the other. It is to the enduring credit 
of Langford and of a hundred other fair and sports- 
manlike officials that these decisions in the big 
games are accepted with good grace by everyone. 
Camp himself had shown the way when, as referee 
of the Yale-Princeton game in 1885, he had ruled 
that Beecher of Yale had stepped out of bounds 
during a long run for a touchdown, and that 
Lamar of Princeton had not. 

He was now to show the same generous spirit 
in giving away his Daily Dozen exercises. Every- 
one knows that the American public will buy 
almost any desirable novelty in mind- or body- 
building if it is presented in the form of a "course." 
For instance, there was a very profitable course 
in memory- training, well advertised by the mention 
of an imaginary incident concerning Mr. Addison 
Sims of Seattle. There are other courses, ranging 
in subject from executive business management to 
the collection and sale of butterflies. There are 
dozens of "health courses" and "body-building 
courses." Walter Camp had material for one of 
these profitable courses, and he knew he had it. 
Advertised in flamboyant style, and backed by 
hundreds of testimonials from the most prominent 
men in America, the Daily Dozen could have been 
sold profitably for many years. 


But Camp was not a man to make extravagant 
claims for the Daily Dozen, nor did he wish to 
trade upon public credulity. "I have never made 
any money except by my business, my investments, 
and my books/' he said. "If the Daily Dozen 
were really pushed commercially, it would make a 
fortune. But I know it will help people in private 
as much as it helped the naval recruits and the 
men in Washington, and I don't want to appear to 
be one of those woolly-headed physical culturists. 
I would rather give it away/* 

He accepted without hesitation an Invitation 
from John M. Siddall, editor of the American 
Magazine, to present the Daily Dozen in its pages. 
By so doing, he virtually destroyed his own owner- 
ship of the Daily Dozen, for the twelve movements 
were now available to more than a million people. 
Camp received a moderate check, at regular rates, 
from this magazine; it was but a tiny fraction of 
what he would have made by selling the Daily 
Dozen as a physical culture course. But he was 
in the spirit of wartime service. He was shocked 
by the run-down condition of so many young men. 
He was delighted to receive, instead of money, 
thousands of letters from people who heard about 
the Daily Dozen and invited him to come and 
demonstrate it in their homes, their business offices, 
and their clubs. He had, however, virtually de- 
stroyed his own copyright in the Daily Dozen. 

Then he went to the office of Collier's Weekly^ 


which had shortly before that time become affil- 
iated with the Crowd! Publishing Company, 
owners of the American Magazine and Woman s 
Home Companion. 

" I want to present the Dally Dozen more fully/ 5 
he said. "Perhaps I can answer some of the 
questions that are coming to me about it/* 

He had put aside two temptations to exploit it 
commercially, and he was not impressed by the 
fact that Eugen Sandow and Lieutenant Midler 
were reputed to have made a great deal of money 
out of systems of exercise. 

* c They have made only a cent or two out of each 
thousand dollars that has been made, and will still 
be made, out of physical culture/' he replied. 
"People are greedy for it,, and can't get enough of 
it. Promise a boy that you can teach him to chin 
himself with one hand,, and he will pay you for les- 
sons. Promise a middle-aged man or woman that 
you can melt fat away without too much pain, 
and you can keep them coming to you for months. 
The private gymnasium is a gold mine. I expect 
to see a large industry, presided over by ex-trainers 
of prizefighters and woolly-headed physical cul- 
ture * professors 7 of one kind and another- But 
I won't let myself into it. My wife has an entirely 
proper horror of it. Any attempt on my part to 
make money out of the Daily Dozen would be 
regarded as an effort to capitalize my reputation 
in amateur athletics." 


What Camp said at that time about the success 
of commercial physical culture has come abun- 
dantly true, as anyone can find out by studying 
the advertising pages of the cheaper magazines, 
and noting the many opportunities offered to de- 
velop strength and beauty at home. Each of the 
large cities has many private gymnasiums for the 
deflated business man and his inflated wife. 

Camp had lectured informally on the Daily 
Dozen, and was seriously taxing his strength by 
traveling from one city to another, giving talks 
and lessons, now to a group of bank directors and 
officers on the roof of a great city bank, now to the 
executives of a manufacturing company in the 
noon hour. He thought he could satisfy many of 
these requests by a complete article, or series of 
articles, in which he would not only describe the 
Daily Dozen, but give his whole philosophy of 

As a writer, he was not a man who cared to 
have anything printed until it was as good as it 
could be made. So much of my own life has been 
spent among people who are crazy to fly into print 
that I always enjoyed working with this man, to 
whom careful preparation was a fetish. Camp 
was not among those small-minded people who 
object to corrections made in their manuscript by 
competent copy-readers. He agreed cheerfully 
to cuts whenever they speeded up his story, just as 
he was grateful for other editorial changes made for 


the sake of clarity or of completeness* An editor 
cherishes such authors, even as he dislikes the 
other kind. Camp returned to New Haven. 
After a while he wrote that he had done the ground- 
work of his proposed Daily Dozen article, and asked 
for a competent writing man as collaborator. 

Every writer will know what he was up against. 
It is easy enough to describe the Daily Dozen 
accurately, and to make some commonplace re- 
marks about it. It would have been still easier 
to praise it gaudily as a cure for most diseases, 
including old age. Camp did neither of these 
things. He sat down and asked himself how he 
could make people realize that they needed the 
Daily Dozen, even though they might be sure 
they did not want it. He knew that calisthenics 
are not popular. He felt that he would have to 
jounce people out of a false security. " Too many 
men/' he wrote, " think that they have done their 
duty by c taking * exercise or c taking ' medicine. 
A man who belongs to a country club fancies that 
he leads a country life. There is no value, except 
amusement, change of scene, in that kind of exer- 
cise. Week-end golf and tennis are nothing but 
amusements. We must make people know that 
they have internal muscles, and know why these 
muscles must be kept elastic. Mineral oil won't 
do it. The Daily Dozen will." 

He thought of the men he knew whose stomachs 
were many inches larger around than their chests. 


He thought of the sallow women who never feel 
really well. He knew it was useless to tell them 
to go back to nature and lead healthy outdoor 
lives. He searched for some creature that has 
learned to adapt itself to the same kind of life. 
He found such a creature at the fireside the 
common domestic cat. 

He wrote about the cat's ability to keep well, 
based on the curious, instinctive, stretching exer- 
cises which the cat is always performing. Then he 
switched to the tiger. The tiger is so big that you 
must notice it, and the tiger manages to keep well 
and live a long time, even when locked in a cage. 
Why ? Camp went to the Zoo, and found the 
tiger endlessly stretching itself. He made in- 
quiries, and satisfied himself that the tiger knew 
something that the civilized man and woman do 
not know. Then he gave the answer, and the 
answer made the Daily Dozen a household word. 
"Take a tip from the tiger and keep young/' he 
wrote. "Live faster, but don't die faster." He 
was always a phrase-maker of great skill. He had 
a gift of expressing an idea in few words. He 
knew the value of alliteration: All-America 
Daily Dozen Take a Tip from the Tiger. And 
it was in such short, easily remembered sentences 
that he proposed to tell what he knew about health. 
The very names of the movements in the Daily 
Dozen sing themselves into your memory. Grate, 
Grind, Grasp. Curve, Crawl, Curl. But there 


were many complicated ideas to be put into his 
exposition. He knew the heart, for instance, can 
become infiltrated with fat, and that if you slough 
off this fat too quickly you may injure the heart, 
which has grown used, as it were, to the soft bed- 
clothes in which it is wrapped. He believed that 
the Daily Dozen, by replacing the normal activi- 
ties of aboriginal man, could either take fat off a 
heavy body or put it on a lean one. He saw in it, 
not a cure for inactivity of the intestinal muscles, 
but a way in which to develop those muscles. He 
knew from his personal experience, and from a 
remarkable encounter that he once had with an 
apparently crazy man in a sleeping car, that the 
Daily Dozen is an admirable preventive of insom- 
nia. On that occasion, a conductor had come 
through the car in a state of great anxiety. 

"Are you a doctor?" he asked. 

"Almost," replied Camp. 

"There is a man on this train who says he has n't 
been able to sleep for many nights," explained the 
conductor. "I think he has gone crazy. Can 
you give him an injection or something that will 
put him to sleep?" 

"Try for a doctor," answered Camp* "If there 
is none on the train, I will see what I can do." 

He took the sufferer to the baggage car, and put 
him through the Daily Dozen. Its physiological 
or mental effect became apparent at once. The 
man accepted Camp's calm statement that he 


would now go to sleep. He did go to sleep, and 
he remained permanently grateful to the man who 
had shown him the way. 

Camp's collaborator, in working out his careful 
exposition of the Daily Dozen,, was William Almon 
Wolff, a former college athlete who had let himself 
grow too heavy, while his muscles grew soft. Camp 
and Wolff wrote and polished the manuscript, 
and Camp incidentally put Wolff through the 
Daily Dozen, until he grew so supple that he posed 
for the illustrations of the twelve movements. 
Wolff returned from New Haven with the article. 
It appeared in Collier s Weekly, dated August 5, 
1920 ; and, for the first and last time in my experi- 
ence, a single article sold out the entire edition of 
a large national magazine. Not a copy could 
be found for love or money. A reprint had to 
be made of the article, to satisfy thousands of 

Camp had accepted his regular author's rate 
for this extraordinary article, but refused to take 
more for it. Finally a ten-cent pamphlet was 
printed, with a modest royalty for Walter Camp 
which, after some hesitation, he agreed to accept. 
More than four hundred thousand copies were sold. 
Then another company asked permission to put 
the Daily Dozen into the form of phonograph 
records, with results that must be known to nearly 
every owner of a phonograph. 

Near the end of his life, with the Daily Dozen 


selling like wildfire in pamphlet form, and also 
in phonograph records and in moving pictures,, 
Walter Camp wrote a little book about it, which 
was published by the Reynolds Publishing Com- 
pany, of New York. This was his last book, and 
he pot into it a great deal of his philosophy of 
work and life. The introduction is by Dr. Samuel 
W. Lambert, most eminent of American heart 
specialists. He wrote : 

This book is Camp's final word to his many followers. 
He preaches from beginning to end one chief lesson 
moderation. He advises a routine for the year., about 
as follows : 295 working days, with three weeks' regular 
vacation, and 49 Sundays for rest from regular business 
duties. In addition, he prescribes ten hours of outdoor 
play a week, and the Daily Dozen once a day, seven 
days in the week. Such a routine should keep the peo- 
ple of this country in better health than they now 
enjoy. . . . Camp has promised much for this system 
of routine exercise if it be properly done, nor has he 
promised too much. He has added other rules than 
the regular performance of the Daily Dozen : he warns 
against excesses of every kind, of overeating, of over- 
drinking and of oversmoking. He knows that there is 
no absolute rule applicable to everyone. He is no tee- 
totaller, but a thorough advocate of true temperance. 
His promise to remove insomnia and a sluggish diges- 
tion from the world, to reduce fat, and to add to the 
gracefulness of the human race, form an ideal in which 
he thoroughly believed, and which will come the nearer 
to accomplishment by a wider adoption of his rules for 

DAILY 171 

a middle path of moderation In all things which make 
up the routine of life. . . . One may differ from Camp 
in some of his minor conclusions, but no physician and 
no athlete can object to his rules for moderation in eat- 
ing and in drinking and in exercise. No one can doubt 
that the carrying out of these rules in a natural way 
will help any individual to do better, harder, and more 
continuous brain work, and that the Daily Dozen will 
bring to anyone suppleness, if not growth ; endurance, 
if not strength ; tone, if not new power. It will give 
to anyone cleaner outlines and fat-free muscles. 

To such a recommendation of Camp's pro- 
gramme for public health it is hardly necessary 
to add the individual letters that came to him. 
He was not a doctor, but he had grateful patients 
everywhere. Letters came to him from Connec- 
ticut and from China. A middle-aged man in 
Waterbury amazed himself, after trying the Daily 
Dozen for a while, by pitching seven innings 
against a team of high-school boys. General 
Charles H. Sherrill, who in his college days won 
.seven intercollegiate track championships, wrote 
to Camp that he did the Daily Dozen for a month, 
and then emerged without one sore spot from a 
hard squash match with his boy. Another old 
friend, cheerfully introducing himself as an enemy, 
reported that the Daily Dozen had brought him 
down from 210 to 188 pounds. Amid a chorus of 
remarks like, "You are a benefactor," and "I 
want to cure a sick man, just as. you cured me," 


Camp felt that the million readers of Colliers 
and the four hundred thousand readers of 
the pamphlet were really taking a long stride back 
to yooth and strength. And this was before the 
phonograph and the radio had extended the work. 
It was fitting that in the long run he should have 
made some money out of the Daily Dozen, for at 
the time when its commercial exploitation was 
open to him, he pushed the prospective money 
away with both hands. 

He was himself the best possible walking adver- 
tisement of what genuine physical culture can do. 
His coolness on a hot day was always conspicuous. 
I once went to New Haven on a blistering hot 
August morning, hailed by the newspapers as the 
hottest day in marty years. Camp was sitting in 
coat and waistcoat in his office, as cool as the pro- 
verbial cucumber. He would loll in a deep easy- 
chair, and then spring forward and upward out of 
it with no telltale push on the arms. (This, by the 
way, is one of the two tests of old age. The other 
is a little more intricate. Drop something on the 
floor, and see if you instinctively snatch it up with 
a sideways bend of your body, like a child, or if 
you have to get squarely in front of it and hoist 
your weight up and down in a straight line. 
Camp invented these two tests, and delighted in 
applying them, without warning or comment, to 
everyone.) He was like rubber and steel, him- 
self. He never showed fatigue; his head and 


shoulders never drooped forward. His shoulder 
blades met each other in the middle of his flat 
back. He carried his head up and his chin in, 
but there was no ramrod stiffness in his bearing. 
He could sit and this is a great test of physical 
fitness for many hours at a meeting with '"no 
twisting of his hands or writhing in his chair. 
Asked how he accomplished this unusual feat of 
sitting still, he gave this rather remarkable piece 
of advice: "All business conferences are physi- 
cally tiresome. The best man alive, mentally, 
cannot sit through them quietly and keep his mind 
on business, unless he stretches his arms and legs 
beforehand. I go over to the washroom and put 
myself through the Daily Dozen. Try it before 
you face your next long conference, and see if it 
will not help you to keep more alert." 

He was a smoker who smoked very little, and a 
drinker who drank a practically irreducible mini- 
mum. He took more exercise than enough to 
counteract any possible bad effect of either habit. 
He was interested in long life or more accurately, 
in long youth. Impressed by Mark Twain's re- 
mark that human life is arranged wrong-side-fore- 
most, and that we really ought to live backward 
and have youth as a reward,, he found himself 
presenting the Daily Dozen more and more as a 
sort of fountain of youth. He scorned the man 
who grows middle-aged at forty and really old at 
sixty. He said biting things about such men, 


things that brought out the dour streak in his char- 
acter, the vein of caustic which he usually re- 
pressed He had no respect for any father or hus- 
band who neglected the ordinary and simple rales 
of health. No one who knew Walter Camp ever 
called him a prig. He knew many men who did 
not lead straight lives. But he was less contemp- 
tuous, in private conversation, of a man who hurt 
himself as the result of real physical temptation 
than of the man who simply let his good boyish 
body go to seed in early middle life. He had a 
great scorn for the semi-drunkard, and for the man 
who lights one cigarette from the butt of another, 
"Take the habit of smoking too much/' he said. 
"It 's just a habit; you enjoy tobacco much more 
if you use it sparingly. We know that smoking is 
bad for young people, in any amount. It is appar- 
ently harmless to many older people, if not indulged 
to excess. That is all we can say positively. But 
Nature has a way of saying the same thing with 
true emphasis! Take the man who smokes too 
much. He wakes some night with an agonizing 
pain a pain under his left breast, a pain that 
stops his breath. He writhes all night, or else 
screams for help. The doctor comes, takes his 
blood pressure, listens to his heart, and tells him to 
quit smoking except for a pipe or two after meals. 
What happens ? Nature cashes his check for this 
first overdraft. The man's heart steadies itself; 
his blood pressure goes down. He feels so well, 


after a while, that he starts smoking like a chimney 
again. And then ? No man can fool Nature. 
She comes to his bedside another night and says : 
"You could n't learn, could you ? You have had 
your chance. I Ve better men than you. Time *s 
up: 9 

With his dark eyes blazing, and his voice sinking 
to the same rasp that he had once used to impress 
some stupid player on the football field," Walter 
Camp could deliver this little parable in a way 
that made it unforgettable. 

More and more he came to the opinion that a 
healthy body begets a healthy mind, and that the 
first duty of a nation is to train its young men to 
resist strain and fatigue. "The dominant nation 
of the future/' he said, "will be the one that can 
send most men to the top of the Matterhorn." 

The doctor in Walter Camp came to the surface 
of his life again in these closing years. This man 3 
who had once confessed that he could not stand the 
sight of blood, was a born healer. He remarked 
that calisthenics are unpopular,, by their very na~ 
ture.> aftd that the man or woman who did the Daily 
Dozen regularly, year after year, would be an 
exception. He knew that it would add one more 
duty to a day already crowded with duties. He 
advised people to subtract that fifteen minutes 
from the business day. " If you can't do the Daily 
Dozen and catch your regular 8 : 07 o'clock train/' 
he said, "I would advise you to do it anyway, and 


catch a later train. If it makes you fifteen min- 
utes late at the office, you will nevertheless have 
the cheering knowledge that it may make you fif- 
teen years later at the cemetery/' 

He became, at the same time, very much inter- 
ested in diet. In his early days he urged the 
use of vegetables, insisting on moderation in the 
amount of food consumed and making the sugges- 
tion altogether opposed to the old English ath- 
letic training regimen that water is a sufficiently 
satisfying drink. In later life Camp devoured 
books on dietary methods, although he did not 
devour the nuts, zwiebach, fermented milk, and 
other fads urged by their authors. He wrote 
many articles against fads and superstitions in diet. 
He found himself writing with zest. A campaign 
he waged single-handed for cheaper golf after 
discovering that the annual dues at a golf club like 
Hoylake in England cost less than a single average 
round of golf at an American country club 
brought him many letters from young professional 
men who found golf too expensive, and also pro- 
moted the building of many municipal courses. 

But it was with boys and children that Camp 
found himself in most sympathy as he passed sixty 
years* Any request from them was sure of careful 
and generous action on his part. He became a 
grandfather in 1917, and hoped to see Walter Camp 
III grow up to take his place as a Yale halfback, 
in the position where two generations of Walter 


Camps had played. To this boy and his mother, 
Frances English Camp, Walter Camp was a per- 
petual source of delight. He had, in Victor Hugo's 
phrase, " the art of being a grandfather." And he 
was equally kind to all other boys. The young son 
of his friend John T. Doyle, president of the Ameri- 
can Sports Publishing Company, asked him to 
write an article for a school magazine published by 
the Brainard School for Boys. Young Jack Mer- 
cier Doyle did not know, perhaps,, that Camp was 
one of the three or four most highly paid writers 
of non-fiction in America. But Camp sat down at 
once and wrote a short, clear essay on one great 
change in the modern game. It is worth reprint- 
ing here : 


The simplest way to show how radically the sport 
of American football has altered since its original intro- 
duction into this country is to describe the progress of 
interference, for it is upon this feature that the game 
shows its extreme departure from the parent stem of 
Rugby football. 

In the strict Rugby Union rules, as adopted in 1876, 
in this country, any man once ahead of the ball (that is, 
between the ball and his opponents' goal) was not only 
offside but could no longer take part in the play or inter- 
fere in any way with his opponents. As soon, there- 
fore, as Americans tried to play the game they found 
great difficulty. When the ball was "heeled out," or 


dragged back with the foot, according to the rules, all 
the rush line must, theoretically, melt into thin air. 

This was manifestly Impossible, and rush-line players 
not only refused to disappear but began quite earnestly 
to take part in the play. The first step toward inter- 
ference was taken when these rushers extended their 
arms horizontally from their sides and thus formed a 
bulwark in front of their runners, which quite effectually 
prevented the opposing would-be tacklers from break- 
Ing through the line. 

It was not long before they went still further, and 
actually wrapped their arms about their opponents. 
This naturally and speedily led to a crisis In the game, 
for it made defense Impossible; so It became necessary 
to decide whether to eliminate by very strict rules all 
Interference, or offside play, or else draw a line some- 
where up to which interference with the defense would 
be legal, beyond which it must not go. 

This took on the form of a rule whose principles 
still govern interference in the modern game. It was 
this : A side in possession of the ball shall be permitted 
to make use of their bodies in any way they like, to 
interfere with the progress of their opponents, but 
cannot, under penalty of a foul, use their hands and 
arms In any way to accomplish this purpose. On the 
other hand, the defenders can make use of their hands 
and arms in an endeavor to break through and get at 
the runner. Thus, theoretically, the principle was 
established that the side not in possession of the ball 
had the right of way or the greater privilege bestowed by 
permitting them to thus use their hands and arms, while 
such action was forbidden to the side in possession. 


This method has prevailed through the history of 
the progress of the sport in this country and upon its 
principle has been built up the great structure of 
attack and defense, which has made the modern Ameri- 
can game such a scientific possibility with all Its com- 
plicated system of signals and attack, well balanced 
by a defense that must be planned and thought out 
with equal care. 

Any boy, anywhere,, who asked Walter Camp for 
help received it, in full measure. The boys at 
Lawrenceville School asked him at one time to come 
over and show them why they were not just then 
playing winning football. Camp made the jour- 
ney, and labored with the team for some time be- 
fore hi presence was known to the head master. 
The football coach at Groton School, who had 
known Camp only casually. Invited him on another 
occasion to come for a visit. Camp responded, 
arrived on the field during practice, and asked to 
see the plays which the Groton team had been 

"Your plays are sound and simple," he said, 
" but you are up against a strong St. Mark's team 
that may keep you from scoring. What you really 
need is a more elaborate play, that might give you 
a touchdown toward the end of the game." 

He developed, then and there, a play that was 
altogether novel in schoolboy football at the time ; 
a play based on an extremely wide "spread" for- 
mation. The boys practised it, and were enthusi- 


astic. They wanted to use it at the very beginning 
of the game. 

"If you do that, it won't work/' said Camp. 
"You must wait till the St. Mark's ends are tired, 
and a little careless. Use the play as near the end 
of the game as you dare, and it may go for a touch- 
do wn." 

His advice was taken too literally. In desperate 
need of a touchdown to save the game, the Groton 
coach sent in a substitute in the last minute of play 
with instructions to the quarterback to try Walter 
Camp's play. Groton had the ball in her own 
territory. The play went for forty yards. Lining 
up quickly, the Groton quarterback signaled for 
the same play again. The St. Mark's ends were 
tired, and the play resulted in a thirty-yard gain. 
Then the whistle ended the game, before Groton 
could carry the ball over for the saving touchdown. 
But Walter Camp had given a lesson in strategy 
which was remembered by the boys in seasons to 

The same fine, high spirit that Camp showed in 
wanting to give the Daily Dozen away, thereby 
refusing to capitalize his athletic reputation, 
showed itself all the more brightly in all his inter- 
course with boys. In their eyes of course he had 
additional glamor and prestige; he was "a star 
of tournament," a man never excelled as player 
and teacher of games. It would have been easy 
for him to sit down on this reputation, and show 


himself aloof and unconcerned. There Is a large 
class of college football coaches who work entirely 
for their own teams and their own security. But 
there is a small class who know that they hold a 
stewardship for the whole game. They know its 
effect on the minds of boys, and they are never 
more happy than when they are helping boys to 
play it, and to play it well. In this class was 
Walter Camp. 

"One day Camp and I were picking plays for a 
school football team/' wrote Lorin F. Deland, the 
Harvard coach. "I said: 'Why not give them 
the Butterworth dive? * He said: * Do you think 
they could play it?' I replied: 'I could better 
express an opinion if I understood the play my- 
self/ For two years it had been the one thing I 
wanted to understand before I died. And then 
Camp showed it to me. It was his adaptation in 
scrimmage form of my own principle of the pre- 
vious year, the flying wedge. But it was twice 
as powerful, because the wedge was kept very 
sharp, and inside it was F. S. Butterworth, Yale's 
greatest hurdler. The play was practically built 
around him." 

Even now, it is thrilling to think of these two 
famous football men sitting down together and 
"picking plays for a school team/' And it was 
characteristic of Camp that, for the greater good 
of football, he let Deland know the working of a 
play that Deland could not fathom. 


It was by a host of kindly acts of this kind that 
Walter Camp won not merely the respect of boys 
for he had that already but won their affection 
too. And boys were to remember their debt to 
him, after he died. The great Walter Camp 
Memorial at New Haven, finest of tributes to any 
athlete who ever lived, is being built in part by 
the voluntary, unsolicited contributions of school- 
boys throughout the country. 



ON March 14, 1925, three men were sitting on the 
deck of a steamship in the Red Sea. They were 
all friends of Walter Camp ; one of them indeed 
was almost his oldest friend- They talked of 
many things, and while they talked they took 
stock of one another, noticing the signs of pre- 
mature old age which they all displayed, the un- 
mistakable signs of life spent in offices, with not 
enough exercise, not enough of the moderation in 
all things which Walter Camp practised as well 
as preached. 

"I wish/' said one of them at last, "that ail of 
us were as sure to live as long and keep as well as 
Walter Camp/' 

A steward came up, with a radiogram. Walter 
Camp was dead. 

The news at this time was being published in 
newspapers everywhere. To everyone who knew 
Camp it came as a stunning surprise. For he was 
apparently in the full tide of health and vigor; 
he was within a month of his sixty-sixth birthday, 
but his step was as elastic, his eye as bright, and 
his bearing as full of muscular grace as at any 
time in the previous thirty years. He had no 
suspicion that his heart might fail, or he would 


have mentioned it to his family, and to that close 
friend of his who is the most eminent of heart 
specialists. But Walter Camp had no reason to 
feel ill. He went to the annual meeting of the 
Football Rules Committee on March 13, in New 
York. He showed all his old zest at that meeting, 
although it was not one of the vitally important 
meetings of the kind which he had attended In so 
many earlier years. The Committee had done its 
work. There was no longer any storm of public 
disapproval to face. It was not necessary for 
Camp to invent a radically new game, as he had 
done in 1883 by presenting his plan for the modern 
scrimmage, and for possession of the ball for three 
consecutive downs. That rule abolished Rugby 
football in America, and launched the game into a 
new and uncharted sea. He brought the centre 
and the quarterback into being at that time ; just as 
he later debarred the graduate student from playing 
on college teams, and still later helped to banish 
mass plays and excessive injuries. All these large 
reforms had been made. It was therefore a meet- 
ing of only average importance to which he went. 
He carried his usual large collection of facts and 
notes upon which legislation could be based. He 
had been on a long tour of the Western states, 
watching football everywhere. In many places 
he had been given a reception that came as near 
being an ovation as his singularly modest spirit 
would permit. And the meeting was a gathering 


of his peers such men as Edward K. Hall of 
Dartmouth William S. Langford of Trinity, Fred 
W. Moore of Harvard, Alonzo A. Stagg of Chicago, 
William W. Roper of Princeton, and the other 
football men who signed the memorial resolution 
which is quoted on a later page. But these men 
did not come to the meeting to pass any such 
resolution. Their business was merely to review 
the past season in football and to pass any new, 
minor rules that would benefit the game. They 
knew that they would have Camp's guidance as 
usual. He had been at all such meetings for 
nearly fifty years, and he had given no sign that he 
expected to withdraw. They had his guidance 
for one day. He was the oldest man at the meet- 
ing, and the others remarked how well he was look- 
Ing. He admitted, smilingly, that he was at work 
on a book Intended to show people how to keep 
young and well at fifty, and afterward. 

There can be no doubt that, in writing this book 
on the Daily Dozen, Walter Camp regarded him- 
self as an example of the truth of his teaching. 
The book is aimed at the middle-aged reader. 
It is one long plea for moderation, covering even 
such tiny details as the unwisdom of pulling your- 
self up with your hands out of a swimming pool, 
when you can more easily walk up the steps. 
"'You can live faster and not die faster," said 
Walter Camp, urging his readers not to overtax 
their strength. But he does not often mention 


dyingin this book his thoughts are all about life, 
about more abundant and useful and happy living. 
A little before midnight, the members of the 
committee said good-bye to Walter Camp. They 
did not know that they were saying good-bye, nor 
did he. They simply said " Good night." On the 
following morning, when he did not appear at the 
session, the door of his hotel room had to be forced, 
and it was found that he had died peacefully in 
his sleep. It was the sort of death that befitted 
him. As an apostle of health, he had never been 
ill. He felt none of the slow attack of old age ; he 
was never to know the crippling, almost unmention- 
able little maladies that usually come, one after 
another, to men who have lived more than sixty 
years. His neck and throat had not fallen away, 
his well-cut clothes had not ceased to fit him, he 
was not forced to wear thin, flexible shoes. He 
was as lean and supple as ever a man in superb 
physical condition. He was keeping up his golf. 
Only a few months before, he had mailed to the 
publisher of his Daily Dozen book one of his cards 
after a round at New Haven. That score hap- 
pened to be 8 1 strokes ; it was neither the best nor 
the worst of his last few rounds. His drives, never 
very long, were as long as ever ; his approach shots 
and putts had all their old crispness and accuracy. 
He was still eating what he pleased. He had not 
had to make one physical readjustment of any 


And now, as the end came,, he died on the scene, 
and in the very midst, of the activities that pleased 
him most. He was a man who kept his feelings 
under rigid control, and he was spared the agonies 
of farewells. He was the inventor and guardian of 
modern American football, and he died with foot- 
ball the last thought in his mind and with the full 
expectation of guiding its destinies on the morrow. 
And so he will, although he can attend no more 
meetings. Men die, but institutions continue. 
Walter Camp had lived to see football become an 
institution, and to put the impress of his chival- 
rous personality on the minds of the younger men 
who worked at his side. 

Walter Camp was primarily a football legislator, 
and Percy D. Haughton was a coach. Both died 
in harness. In fact, Camp said that Haughton 
died a characteristic and happy death, stricken 
while in the very act of coaching a squad of players 
who looked up to him. It was Camp's fortune to 
die no less happily, with the football men whom he 
chiefly respected all around him, and with no cloud 
on the future of the game he loved. It can be 
truly said of him, as Owen Seaman said of Joseph 
Chamberlain, that "even death, last enemy of all, 
came to him like a friend." 

Almost every newspaper in America paid full 
editorial tribute to Walter Camp as soon as the 
news of his death was known. But it is not in 
these tributes, fine as they were, that you will get 


the best measure of his importance and his charac- 
ter* The finest expressions came from the men 
who had worked with him. Take first of all the 
memorial resolution passed by the American 
Intercollegiate Football Rules Committee : 

His contribution to the game [it reads], covers a 
period of almost exactly half a century. It began at 
Yak in the fall of 1 876, when he played in the first game 
of Rugby Football ever played by college teams in this 
country. It ended when he died in his sleep on the 
night of March 13-14, 1925, during an overnight inter- 
mission between sessions of the Rules Committee 
called together in New York City for the purpose of 
establishing the playing rules for the season of 1925. 

From 1876 until 1910,, when he retired from active 
participation in directing the strategy of Yale football, 
he was outstanding leader in the development of the 
playing technique and the strategy of the game. 

From 1879 until 1925 he was a member of every 
football rules convention and every Rules Committee. 
During that period and literally up to the hour of his 
death he was the acknowledged leader in the evolution 
of the game through the framing of its playing rules. 

In the deliberations of this Committee his counsel 
has been always wise and far-seeing, his attitude to- 
ward those with whose views he differed has been 
unfailingly generous and understanding, and his ad- 
herence to the highest standards of sportsmanship 
has been unwavering and inspiring. 

It is in this last respect that Walter Camp made his 
greatest contribution to football. If football is to con- 


tinue as the greatest of all academic sports, it will be 
due not alone to the foundations., toward the build- 
ing of which Walter Camp contributed so generously, 
but in a far greater measure to the fine standards of 
American sportsmanship toward the establishment of 
which no man in America has contributed more, either 
by precept or by example. 

American Rugby Football has lost its founder and 
its greatest champion, but his influence on the game 
will endure as long as the game is played. 

E. K. Hall, Chairman 

M. F. Ahearn C. W. Savage 

William S. Langford H. J. Stegeman 

Fred W. Moore Dana X. Bible 

William W. Roper John J. McEwen 

A. A. Stagg C. Henry Smith 

James A. Babbitt George M. Varnell 

There came, at this time, many thousands of 
letters to Mrs. Camp, and to Walter Camp, Jr. 
It is significant that while Yale men of all ages 
were fully represented, by no means all the letters 
came from them. Hundreds were from Princeton 
men who were old opponents of Camp's teams on 
the football field, and old friends of his at the same 
time. This is fully explained by the address made 
by Professor Charles W. Kennedy of Princeton at 
the Walter Camp Memorial Service held at Battell 
Chapel at Yale, on Monday of the 1925 Commence- 
ment Week at Yale. The address follows in 
part : 


Walter Camp was all his life a great and generous 
sportsman, hating flabbiness, and loving the hard, 
clean contest and the shining goal. He recognized, as 
John Galsworthy has recognized, that in the troubled 
affairs of men sport has steadily kept a flag of idealism 
flying 'with its spirit of rules kept, and regard for the 
adversary, whether the fight is going for or against/ 
As a competitor, Walter Camp was endowed with 
a natural love of athletic games, and an ability to 
play them surpassingly well. As an administrator of 
sports he displayed an unfailing shrewdness and in- 
vention in the formulation of wise rules and the devel- 
opment of sound and ingenious technique of play. 
As a sportsman, he strove with unswerving firmness 
throughout a long lifetime to infuse into the codes 
that govern sport a spirit of chivalry and magnanimity. 
As a citizen, he labored without ceasing to weave the 
love of athletic games into the fabric of our national 
life, in the faith that by this love and practice our boys 
may grow to stronger and finer manhood. 

As one of the rule makers and elder statesmen! of 
college athletics he was in unique degree responsible 
for the development of the game of football as it is 
known and played to-day from coast to coast. It 
was the achievement of Walter Camp, almost single- 
handed, to evolve from the formless and hardly recog- 
nizable Rugby of the seventies the game' of modern 
American football a game in which his unerring 
judgment and constructive vision infused a rapid 
thrust and parry, a balance of mass action and indi- 
vidual play, an intellectual ingenuity of attack and 
defense. Through the long course of this evolution 


it was his influence, first and foremost, that shaped 
the destiny of the most popular of modern college 
games, and moulded it to an instrument for the testing 
of character and the training of manhood. 

But many of us believe that America's debt to 
Walter Camp goes far beyond the things I have men- 
tioned. His preeminence in the athletic world arose 
from the fact, though I never knew him to use the 
phrase, that he had a philosophy of sport. There was 
something almost Greek in his love of the lithe grace, 
the supple skill, the hard clean strength of the human 
body and in his admiration of those qualities of char- 
acter that reveal themselves in the fine achievement of 
college sport. During the Great War, it was his all 
but immeasurable service, by the invention of his 
ingenious " Daily Dozen," to bring home to men by 
thousands and hundreds of thousands the joy of phys- 
ical fitness. 

When all is said the love that men have for sport, 
and the respect they hold for sportsmen, spring from 
an instinctive recognition that generous sportsmanship 
sows the seed of magnanimity that from their play- 
ing fields our boys may carry to the work of life an 
ability to win greatly and to lose greatly. 

Yale has the honor to claim him with pride as hers, 
but his friends were legion. His influence crossed all 
boundaries, drawing colleges closer in friendly com- 
petition, and joining sportsmen in a common devotion 
to the idealism of sport. The news of his death 
shadowed many a campus remote from New Haven. 
From Princeton, and from all lovers of college sport, I 
bring a memorial of affection and respect for a generous 


opponent, a loyal friend, a sportsman without fear 
and without reproach. His fame has no need of per- 
petuating bronze. It will abide secure in the heart of 
youth and in the memory of age. 

An unforgettable picture of Walter Camp in his 
daily life was presented at the same service by 
Professor William Lyon Phelps of Yale, who closed 
with a splendid and deserved tribute to Mrs. 
Camp. Professor Phelps said : 

"Others have spoken to-day of Walter Camp as a 
public man ; I wish to say a few words about him as 
my friend. About twenty-five years ago, we used to 
go out to the Country Club nearly every day at noon, 
and play eighteen holes together between twelve and 
two o'clock. He knew that it was better for the aver- 
age man, who had to be in his place of business both 
morning and afternoon, to spend the midday interval 
on the links rather than at the lunch table. But as 
very few people seemed to share his opinion, Walter 
and I practically had the course to ourselves. This 
daily communion of two hours which it was my im- 
mense privilege to enjoy with him, gave the oppor- 
tunity to talk about many things* 

"I acquired an immense respect not merely for his 
views on athletic contests, but for his opinions about 
books, and about human nature. Walter was an ex- 
cellent business man and an authority on all kinds of 
outdoor and indoor sport. But he was exceedingly 
well-read in general literature, and his criticisms of 
new novels and essays, and of new plays at the theatre, 


were original, well-founded, and penetrating. I have 
no doubt that had he chosen to specialize in any one 
of a half dozen fields of intellectual effort, he could 
have made a name for himself. But he wisely used 
his experience, his knowledge, and his capacity for 
leadership in teaching young America the highest 
ideals of sportsmanship during just the period when 
such teaching was most needed. 

"Walter and I were often on the list of speakers at 
various alumni banquets; and I remember on one 
occasion, when a Yale graduate, who seemed to think 
there was something immoral about playing to win, 
made some sarcastic allusion to the overemphasis 
given to football, and attempted to reinforce his re- 
marks by a quotation from Matthew Arnold, Walter, 
who spoke next, completed the quotation, and turned 
it successfully against his critic. 

"In all the years I knew Walter Camp, and in all 
the conversations I had with him, I never heard him 
use bad language, I never heard him say anything 
querulous, petulant, or jealous. I never saw him 
overexcited, and I never heard him complain of the 
unfair treatment that had more than once been shown 
him. He was a man of the world, a gentleman always 
and everywhere, a splendid illustration of the ideals 
he preached. 

"In the last ten or twelve years of his life, he was 
my neighbor ; and as we both had the habit of early 
rising, I used to see him every morning about half- 
past seven on his way to business. In winter he car- 
ried his overcoat over his arm, and maintained a speed 
in walking as though he were out for a record. Like 


all men in good physical condition., who love their busi- 
ness, who love recreation, who love their friends, and 
who love life, he did not creep like a snail unwillingly 
to work. He went to his office with the same joyful 
eagerness that he went to the links. But he always 
had time in these early mornings to stop for a moment 
and talk. To see him and to speak with him freshened 
me up for the whole day. He was so full of the very 
abundance of life. There was something about him 
so clean, so wholesome, so inspiring that I shall miss 
his presence every day ; but I shall be thankful always 
that I had his affection, that I knew him so well. 

"And may I say to Mrs. Walter Camp, whom we 
love with all our hearts, that we hope her loneliness 
and loss may partially be 1 comforted by the thought 
that in every part of our country are living those who 
have been made better physically and mentally by 
Walter's influence and example, and that his departure, 
while it has taken him from our sight, has not in any 
way lessened the power of his fine spirit in innumerable 
lives. There is no other woman in our annals who 
more perfectly in her own mind and heart represents 
the eternal spirit of Yale ; the sister of Yale's greatest 
teacher, William Graham Sumner, the wife of Yale's 
greatest sportsman, Walter Camp." 

And then it was the turn of the gentlest and 
most lovable of all sport lovers in America to 
speak; a man who in his appearance is bookish 
and almost ministerial, but who over a long period 
of years has helped to keep the flames of inter- 
collegiate rivalry burning in an orderly fashion, 


who served for a time with Walter Camp on the 
joint athletic committee of Yale and Harvard. 
Everyone in the chapel knew that Dean LeBaron 
Russell Briggs of Harvard would remember some 
unknown and almost quixotic example of Camp's 
sportsmanship. For this is a man who takes honor 
for granted, and who searches in the human spirit 
for something finer still. Said Dean Briggs : 

"Walter Camp's preeminence in athletics needs no 
word of mine. From ocean to ocean he is known as 
the father of American football, as the lover and up- 
holder of all manly sport, as the prophet of physical 
well-being in the happily efficient life. I would speak 
of his personal kindness to one whom he knew but 
slightly, and whom he rarely or never met except in 
the delicate relations of intercollegiate athletics. 

" From the first moment of our first meeting to the last 
moment of our last, I found him not honorable merely 
but singularly friendly and sensitively considerate. 
On the day of a Princeton-Harvard game, he looked 
me up at the Pennsylvania Station in New York to 
discuss some question of athletics. 'Since we are both 
going to Princeton,' said I, 'why should n't you come 
with me in the special train for the Harvard team ? ' 
'Your men wouldn't like that/ he said. 'It would 
worry them.' On inquiry I was sorry to learn that he 
was right. 

"What I have told you illustrates perfectly all my 
experience, official or personal, with Mr. Camp. For 
my knowledge of athletics he might well have felt 
contempt ; and athletics was the one subject that 


brought us together, scarcely half a dozen times in 
all. He had a thousand friends whom he knew better ; 
yet here you see him as I saw him, a man not too busy 
for an act of courtesy hard to surpass in thoughtful- 
ness and grace. To him such acts were but small 
incidents of a crowded life and possibly soon forgotten. 
Yet to one man they mean much ; and of one ^man 
they mean much. There are few stronger searchlights 
than athletics. I shall never cease to remember with 
gratitude what the searchlight of athletics revealed to 
me in Walter Camp." 

The last speaker for Yale was President Emeritus 
Arthur Twining Hadley, for forty years a friend 
of Walter Camp, and better fitted than any other 
man to appraise the worth of his service to Yale. 
He said : 

"During the period of Walter Camp's service as 
graduate advisor in Athletics, I had the privilege of 
close association with him in the decision of questions 
that were often difficult and sometimes grave. Under 
conditions like these, Walter Camp laid aside his habit- 
ual reserve, and let me see what manner of man he was, 
and how he made himself what he was. In all the 
matters which came before us, he showed himself not 
only clear headed but clean minded anxious tolavoid 
prejudice and unwilling to listen to the idle talk which 
lies at the root of so many unnecessary quarrels. In 
this fundamental sense I think he was the cleanest 
minded man I ever saw. This characteristic was all the 
more remarkable because Camp was by nature a man 
of strong feelings and prejudices. He cared for his 


friends and wanted them to win. But the very fact 
that he cared so much put him on his guard against 
anything which might lead him to do his antagonist 
less than justice. When David, in one of the noblest 
of his Psalms, wished to describe a citizen of Zion, he 
used the words "who taketh not up a reproach against 
his neighbor/ To this high standard Walter Camp 
measured up squarely and fully. He neither repeated 
nor entertained idle gossip. When a suspicion was 
unproved he simply said, 'I don't believe it/ 

"Even if a fact was proved which seemed to others 
to warrant suspicion, he was slow to admit that it 
showed any intentional disregard of duty or any fla- 
grant want of care. In one grave instance of profes- 
sionalism which was discovered at another college and 
was severely criticized by th'e press and by the public, 
he stood almost alone in believing that there had been 
neither evil design nor culpable blindness. * Every one 
of us,* he once said, c who has to do with the control of 
college athletics is sitting on a volcano. We try to 
take all the pains we can to keep things clean; but 
strive as we may, something may happen to elude us/ 

"This habit of self-criticism enabled him to tolerate 
the criticisms of others. He was so much afraid that 
something might happen which would justly be made 
a reproach against us that he did not care greatly for 
irresponsible reports about us as long as they were not 
true. More than almost any other man I ever knew, 
he lived up to the advice offered by St. Paul to the 
Corinthians : * Suffer fools gladly, seeing ye yourselves 
are wise/ It was his business to see things as they 
were and to keep clear of all prejudice which would 


obstruct his vision. If others were less sagacious., that 
was not his concern. 

"And he had much more than this negative freedom 
from prejudice. He had a positive desire to under- 
stand the feelings of others and to put himself in their 
places. His habit of reserve, to which I have already 
alluded, sometimes prevented others from seeing how 
fully he tried to enter into their point of view, but it 
did not hinder him from understanding them. Deep 
in his mind, he had at once the craving and the power 
to know those whom he met. 

"I am inclined to think that the possession of this 
power was his greatest asset in advising Yale teams as 
to the methods by which they could win, and that it 
accounted for many things which the public used to 
attribute to "Yale Luck/ 'We know what we can 
do/ he said to me, 'and they know what they can do; 
but we generally have the advantage of knowing what 
they can do much better than they know what we can 
do. They sometimes send scouts to find out something 
about our plays, but they do not know when we are 
likely to use a given play because they have never taken 
the trouble to find out about the psychology of the 
Yale eleven how it will react to given conditions/ 

"This habit of entering into others' feelings not only 
made him a good advisor professionally, but a good 
example outside of his profession. He was the kind of 
leader which the United States needs to an exceptional 
degree at the present day. In almost every depart- 
ment of life from politics to literature we are prone to 
let organized emotion take the place of brains. More 
than ever we ought to heed the lessons that Walter 


Camp's life and work can teach us to keep our 
minds so free from prejudice that we may see things 
clearly ; to judge ourselves so critically that we need not 
fear the misjudgments of our opponents ; to enter so in- 
telligently into the real feelings of those with whom we 
deal that, whether we meet them in cooperation or in 
honorable strife, we shall know the ground on which we 
stand and the results we may hope to accomplish.' 7 

All sides of Walter Camp's work are mentioned 
in these tributes : his record as football player and 
all-around athlete; his success as football coach 
and football legislator ; his public-minded effort to 
improve the health and fitness of the whole nation. 
There is nobody else who has done all these things 
as well as he did. Above them all, shining clearly 
in all his acts and in his attitude toward life, was 
the high, clear flame of sportsmanship ; and this, 
as Dean Briggs pointed out, did not mean honor 
alone, but generosity and delicacy of spirit. 

He had the aristocratic tradition, and he did not 
let it down. The great word gentleman, so dan- 
gerous when used by anyone not a gentleman, 
was frequently on his lips. He dared to rise at 
student banquets, Professor Phelps informs me, 
and quote Thackeray's stanza from the poem 
called " The End of the Play " : 

Who misses or who gains the prize 
Go, lose or conquer as you can ; 

But if you fail or if you rise 

Be each, pray God, a gentleman. 


One has to be very sure of himself to talk In that 
vein to any group of college men the quickest 
audience in the world to puncture pretension or in- 
sincerity on the part of a speaker. Camp not only 
quoted poems before such audiences, and spoke to 
them about chivalry, but he did some of the best 
writing of his life on the same subject. Again I 
must emphasize my belief that too many people 
think it is "gentlemanly" to lose a game with a 
smile, and even to make no great effort for victory. 
Walter Camp fought this delusion, tooth and nail. 
( A gentleman against a gentleman always plays 
to win/' he wrote. "There is a tacit agreement 
between them that each shall do his best., and that 
the best man shall win/" Football in his eyes was 
the modern counterpart of the tourneys of old, 
the jousts that were marked by a chivalrous spirit 
but by a keen desire to win. He could not imagine 
a knight being paid for participation in such tour- 
naments* "No matter how winding the road 
that eventually brings a dollar from sport into 
your pocket/' he warned, "that dollar is the price 
of what should be dearer to you than anything 
else : your honor. If you are enough of a man to 
be a good athlete and someone asks you to use 
that athletic ability for gain, don't take money for 
it, or anything that amounts to pay. A gentleman 
does not make his living from his athletic prowess. 
He does not earn anything by his victories except 
glory and satisfaction. Perhaps the first falling off 


in this respect began when the laurel wreath 
became a mug. So long as the mug was but an em- 
blem, and valueless otherwise, there was no harm. 
There is still no harm where the mug hangs in the 
room of the winner to indicate his skill; but if 
the silver mug becomes a silver dollar, let us have 
the laurel wreath back again/' 

Observe the sharp, clipped words in which Camp 
preaches this little sermon. It is addressed, of 
course, to college athletes and not to professional 
players Camp knew most of the first-rate pro- 
fessional athletes, and respected them. But he 
had no respect for the man who disguised his pro- 
fessionalism. He could not have taught his own 
type of sportsmanship to such a man, nor could 
he imagine him bearing himself on the college 
athletic field with the kind of high chivalry that 
Camp admired. He admitted that boys could 
be misguided, and that the boy who took money 
or its equivalent for playing amateur games was 
often to be pitied rather than scorned. But his 
own voice and example was always on the side of 
absolutely Corinthian sport. All this is easiest to 
understand when one remembers that Camp was 
intensely romantic in spirit, and that he had only 
to close his eyes to see the lists and the barriers 
where champions rode to unhorse their rivals, with 
only fame and glory for reward. From those 
gallent competitions he saved as much romance 
and courage and glamor as he could, and wove 


these qualities into the game of football His 
insistence that the code of honor must be trans- 
ferred from the knighthood of old on to the modern 
football field was as enduring a contribution^ to the 
development of sport, if a less visible one, as any 
of the rules he caused to be enacted for the regu- 
lation of the game. 

Football became in his hands a game of honor 
as well as of pluck, a knightly game as well as a 
manly one. And he thought that its spectators 
should share this spirit. "A gentleman is cour- 
teous/' he declared. "It is not courteous to cheer 
an error of your opponents. If upon your own 
grounds, it is the worst kind of boorishness. So 
is any attempt to rattle your opponents by con- 
certed cheering and talking. You should cheer any 
remarkable plays made by your rivals, and conceal 
any chagrin at the loss it may occasion to your 

This is a counsel, apparently, of perfection; 
but you have only to go from a baseball game to 
an intercollegiate football game to realize that 
Walter Camp somehow infused into football his 
own high generosity of spirit. The cheering for 
an opposing team or captain, the restraint that is 
shown when an adversary makes a fumble, the 
courtesies paid to the opposite side by each college 
band all these are astonishing new phenomena 
in athletic sport, and they are all derived directly 
from Camp. There is a minority of spectators 


who do not understand them ; but their acceptance 
by the undergraduate and graduate crowds, at 
least, is very nearly complete. Never forgetting, 
or allowing others to forget, that football is a game, 
Camp nevertheless surrounded it with the most 
magnanimous traditions that he could teach. His 
idea of proper .conduct by spectators went very 

After winning a match there is no reason why a lot of 
young men should not do plenty of cheering, but there 
is every reason why they should not make their enjoy- 
ment depend upon insulting those who have lost. You 
cannot take your hilarity off into a corner and choke it 
to death. But jeers and jibes at the crestfallen mark 
you as a man who does not know how to bear victory, 
a man whose pate is addled by excitement, or whose 
bringing up has been at fault. When celebrating, do 
not, I beg of you, do anything because it looks smart. 
Enjoy yourselves, but do not try to show off. Don't 
be tough. A little unusual hilarity may upon these 
occasions be overlooked and forgiven, but be ready to 
appreciate the point beyond which it is carried too far. 
Show that behind the jolly fun you have the instincts 
and cultivation of a gentleman's son. If you find you 
are losing your head, go home ; you will not be sorry 
for it. 

But his final word was to the players of the game 
of all college games, great and small : 

I wish I could impress indelibly upon your minds 
that with you rests the standard of amateur sport. 


With no disrespect to any other class or condition, I 
say that the collegian's standard of purity In sports 
should be the highest. The very fact that he has 
leisure to devote four years to a higher education 
should be taken to involve the duty of acquiring a 
keener perception of right and wrong in matters where 
right and wrong depend upon delicacy of honor. Gen- 
tlemen do not cheat, nor do they deceive themselves 
as to what cheating is. If you are the captain of a 
nine, an eleven, or a crew, read over the rules and notice 
exactly who are allowed to play as contestants by these 
ril les no t merely by the custom of some predecessor, 
or of your rival, but by the rules themselves. Having 
done that, do not let a thought enter your head of 
using some man not clearly and cleanly eligible. It is 
your duty to know that every one of your men is 
straight and square. I know what I am talking about 
when I say that a college captain can, in ninety-nine 
cases out of a hundred, know the exact truth about 
every man he thinks of trying. In investigating and 
in legislating, remember that what a gentleman wants is 
fair play, and the best man to win. 

Challenges of this kind came from Walter 
Camp's lips and pen during all his half century in 
football. With one more characteristic example, 
we can bring to an end our estimate of what he 
stood for at Yale : 

It is quite the fashion to say "sentimental bosh" to 
anyone who preaches such an old-fashioned thing as 
honor in sport, but among true gentlemen honor is just 
as real an article as ever, and it can never ring false. 


The man who tells you the insufferable rot about being 
"practical " and discarding sentiment is not the man you 
should choose as a friend. He will not stand by you 
in a pinch. When we come to realities, it is only the 
man who believes in such things as honor that is worth 
anything. So stick to it, my boy, and keep it bright. 
Carry it down into the small affairs of school and 

Far more than athletic success, such an attitude 
makes an effect on the minds of the men who are 
exposed to it. And Yale has shown, in full measure 
and with superb fitness, how much Yale appre- 
ciated Walter Camp. The memorial service was 
the first manifestation of this spirit; notice that 
it was held on "Monday afternoon in Commence- 
ment Week." Such a date in the college year is 
not a usual one for memorials ; Commencement 
Week is a time for reunions, for gaiety, for the 
granting of degrees, for the most interesting of the 
spring sports. But the service was held in that 
week, and as a result it was possible for many 
more of Walter Camp's classmates of 1880 to at- 
tend, and also a great many men who could not 
arrange to come to New Haven at another time. 
The same scrupulous regard for his memory, even 
at the risk of uprooting tradition, was shown in 
the choice of the permanent memorial. It was 
obvious that this should be on Yale Field, and 
the proposal was made to call the Yale Bowl the 
Walter Camp BowL But that, fine as it would 


have been, might have limited his memory to foot- 
ball alone. At last it was decided that Yale Field 
itself should bear his name. 

The Yale athletic fields are bisected by Derby 
Avenue, a main thoroughfare from New Haven. 
To the north is the Yale Bowl, the Lapham Field 
House, and the tennis courts ; to the south are the 
baseball diamonds and the running track. Where 
Derby Avenue separates the north from the south 
field^ it will be widened and will become an orna- 
mental mall. A colonnade,, one hundred and ten 
feet in width and fifty feet in height, designed by 
John W. Cross, Yale 1900, will be erected at the en- 
trance to the north field, directly in front of the 
Yale Bowl. The inscription 


will be cut into the stone over the gateway, and 
upon the panels on either side will appear the 
names of the universities and schools that have 
contributed to this memorial. For it will not be 
entirely, as at first proposed, the gift of Yale men. 
Many other men wished to contribute, and Briga- 
dier-General Palmer E. Pierce, president of the 
National Collegiate Association, named a commit- 
tee which offered to cooperate with the committee 
appointed by the Corporation of Yale University. 
The Yale Committee members are S. Brinckerhoff 
Thorne, chairman; and William M. Barnum, 


Walter Jennings, Vance C. McCormick, George T. 
Adee, John A. Hartwell, and Artemus L. Gates ; 
with Robert M. Hutchins, secretary. The mem- 
bers of the committee of the N. C. A. A. are Edward 
K. Hall, chairman ; and W. S. Langford of Trinity, 
Fred W. Moore of Harvard, A. A. Stagg of the 
University of Chicago, Walter Powell of Wisconsin 
University, and Robert C. Zuppke of the Univer- 
sity of Illinois; together with district chairmen 
throughout the country, and W. Richmond Smith, 
of 45 Rose Street, New York, as executive secre- 
tary. In the hands of men like these, who knew 
Walter Camp so intimately, not only is the admin- 
istration of the fund secure, but it will continue to 
come from the far-flung graduates and undergrad- 
uates of both schools and colleges everywhere. 
Every boy or man who has been directly or indi- 
rectly inspired by Walter Camp will have an 
opportunity to contribute a small sum to the 
memorial that will stand as long as athletic sports 
are played at Yale. 

Among all the memorials to great men in the 
world, there are two which seem particularly 
appropriate to the place where they stand, and 
this memorial to Walter Camp is one. The other 
is a statue on a lonely tropical beach, far from the 
eyes of the crowd; it represents a man in armor 
looking out to sea. But the man is Vasco Nunez 
de Balboa, and the ocean is his ocean the Pacific. 
Not less impressive, as the years go by, will be 


this constant reminder of Walter Camp's service, 
first to the young men of Yale, and then to all the 
young men in this country. He, too, wore the 
armor of the high adventurous spirit that dares to 
strive and to find. 

"How often/' wrote Grantland Rice in Collier s 
Weekly y "must have come to Walter Camp the 
memory of old football battles in rain and snow, 
in sun and shadow the flying tackle and the 
savage line thrust the forward wall braced for 
the shock the graceful spiral careening against 
a sky of blue and gray the long run down the 
field the goal-line stand the forward pass 
the singing and cheering of great crowds young 
and old America gathered together on a golden after- 
noon, with bands playing and banners flying 

"It may have been in the midst of such a dream 
that the call to quarters came, and Taps was 
sounded as the great knight came down the field/' 




end Cumnock, Harvard 
tackle Cowan, Princeton 
guard Cranston, Harvard 
centre George, Princeton 
guard Heffelfinger, Yale 
tackle Gill, Yale 
end Stagg, Yale 
quarter Poe, Princeton 
halfback Lee, Harvard 
halfback Channing, Princeton 
fullback Ames, Princeton 


end Hinkey, Yale 
tackle Winter, Yale 
guard Heffelfinger, Yale 
centre Adams, Pennsylvania 
guard Riggs, Princeton 
tackle Newell, Harvard 
end Hartwell, Yale 
quarter King, Princeton 
haljback Lake, Harvard 
halfback McClung, Yale 
fullback Homans, Princeton 


end Hinkey, Yale 
tackle Lea, Princeton 


Hallowell, Harvard 
Newell, Harvard 
Riggs, Princeton 
Cranston, Harvard 
Heffelfinger, Yale 
Rhodes, Yale 
Warren, Princeton 
Dean, Harvard 
Corbett, Harvard 
McClung, Yale 
Homans, Princeton 


Hinkey, Yale 
Wallis, Yale 
Waters, Harvard 
Lewis, Harvard 
Wheeler, Princeton 
Newell, Harvard 
Hallowell, Harvard 
McCormick, Yale 
Brewer, Harvard 
King, Princeton 
Thayer, Pennsylvania 


Hinkey, Yale 
Waters, Harvard 



1893 (Continued} 

guard Wheeler, Princeton 

centre Lewis, Harvard 

guard Hickok, Yale 

tackle Newell, Harvard 

end Trenchard, Princeton 

quarter King, Princeton 

halfback Brewer, Harvard 

halfback Morse, Princeton 

fullback Butterworth, Yale 


end Cabot, Harvard 

tackle Lea, Princeton 
guard Wharton, Pennsylvania 
centre Bull, Pennsylvania 
guard Riggs, Princeton 
tackle Murphy, Yale 
end Gelbert, Pennsylvania 

quarter WyckofF, Cornell 
halfback Thorne,Yale 
halfback Brewer, Harvajd 
fullback Brooke, Pennsylvania 

1894 (Continued) 

Wheeler, Princeton 
Stillman, Yale 
Hickok, Yale 
Lea, Princeton 
Gelbert, Pennsylvania 
Adee, Yale 
Knipe, Pennsylvania 
Brooke, Pennsylvania 
Butterworth, Yale 


Cabot, Harvard 
Church, Princeton 
Wharton, Pennsylvania 
Gailey, Princeton 
Woodruff, Pennsylvania 
Murphy, Yale 
Gelbert, Pennsylvania 
Fincke, Yale 
Wrightington, Harvard 
Kelly, Princeton 
Baird, Princeton 


end Cochran, Princeton 

tackle Chamberlain, Yale 

guard Hare, Pennsylvania 

centre Doucette, Harvard 

guard Brown, Yale 

tackle Outland, Pennsylvania 

end Hall, Yale 

quarter De Saulles, Yale 

halfback Dibblee, Harvard 

halfback Kelly, Princeton 

fullback Minds, Pennsylvania 





end Palmer, Princeton 
tackle Hillebrand, Princeton 
guard Hare, Pennsylvania 
centre Overfield, Pennsylvania 
guard Brown, Yale 
tackle Chamberlain, Yale 
end Hallowell, Harvard 
quarter Daly, Harvard 
halfback Outland, Pennsylvania 
halfback Dibblee, Harvard 
fullback Herschberger, Chicago 


Poe, Princeton 
Steckle, Michigan 
McCracken, Pennsylvania 
Cunningham, Michigan 
Boal, Harvard 
Haughton, Harvard 
Cochran, Harvard 
Kennedy, Chicago 
Richardson, Brown 
Warren, Harvard 
O'Dea, Wisconsin 


end Folwell, Pennsylvania 

tackle Sweetland, Cornell 

guard Randolph, Penn. State 

centre Jaffray, Harvard 

guard Reed, Cornell 

tackle Foy, West Point 

end Smith, West Point 

quarter Kromer, West Point 

halfback Raymond, Wesleyan 

halfback Benedict, Nebraska 

fullback Romeyn, West Point 



end Campbell, Harvard 

tackle Hillebrand, Princeton 

guard Hare, Pennsylvania 

centre Over field, Pennsylvania 

guard Brown, Yale 


Hallowell, Harvard 
Wheelock, Indiana 
Edwards, Princeton 
Cunningham, Michigan 
Wright, Columbia 


1899 (Continued) 


tackle Stillman, Yale 

end Poe, Princeton 

quarter Daly, Harvard 

halfback Seneca, Indians 

halfback McCracken, Pennsylvania 

fullback McBride, Yale 


Wallace, Pennsylvania 
Coombs, Pennsylvania 
Kennedy, Chicago 
Richardson, Brown 
Slaker, Chicago 
Wheeler, Princeton 













end Snow, Michigan 

tackle Alexander, Cornell 

guard Trout, Lafayette 

centre Burnett, Harvard 

guard Burden, Harvard 

tackle Pell, Princeton 

end Hamill, Chicago 

quarter Hudson, Indiana 

halfback McLean, Michigan 

halfback Weekes, Columbia 

fullback O'Dea, Wisconsin 



Campbell, Harvard 
Bloomer, Yale 
Brown, Yale 
Olcott, Yale 
Hare, Pennsylvania 
Srillman, Yale 
Hallowell, Harvard 
Fincke, Yale 
Chadwick, Yale 
Morley, Columbia 
Hale, Yale 


Gould, Yale 
Wallace, Pennsylvania 
Wright, Columbia 
Sargent, Harvard 
Sheldon, Yale 
Lawrence, Harvard 
Coy, Yale 
Daly, Harvard 
Weekes, Columbia 
Sawin, Harvard 
Cure, Lafayette 




end Smith, West Point 

tackle Alexander, Cornejl 

guard Teas, Pennsylvania 

centre Page, Minnesota 

guard Belknap, Annapolis 

tackle Farnsworth, West Point 

end Van Hoevenberg, Columbia 

quarter Williams, Iowa 

halfback Reiter, Princeton 

halfback Sharpe, Yale 

fullback McCracken, Pennsylvania 



end Campbell, Harvard 

tackle Cutts, Harvard 

guard Warner, Cornell 

centre Holt, Yale 

guard Lee, Harvard 

tackle Bunker, West Point 

end Davis, Princeton 

quarter Daly, West Point 

halfback Kernan, Harvard 

halfback Weekes, Columbia 

fullback Graydon, Harvard 


Bowditch, Harvard 
Blagden, Harvard 
Barnard, Harvard 
Bachman, Lafayette 
Hunt, Cornell 
Wheelock, Carlisle 
Swan, Yale 
De Saulles, Yale 
Purcell, Cornell 
Ristine, Harvard 
Cure, Lafayette 


end Henry, Princeton 

tackle Pell, Princeton 

guard Olcott, Yale 

centre Fisher, Princeton 

guard Teas, Pennsylvania 

tackle Goss, Yale 

end Gould, Yale 

quarter Johnson, Carlisle 



igoi ( Continued) 

halfback Heston, Michigan 
halfback Morley, Columbia 
fullback Schoelkopf, Cornell 



end Sheviin, Yale 

tackle Hogan, Yale 

guard De Witt, Princeton 

centre Holt, Yale 

guard Glass, Yale 

tackle Kinney, Yale 

end Bowditch, Harvard 

quarter Rockwell, Yale 

halfback Chadwick, Yale 

halfback Bunker, West Point 

fullback Graydon, Harvard 


Sweeley, Michigan 
Pierce, Amherst 
Warner, Cornell 
Boyers, West Point 
Goss, Yale 
Knowlton, Harvard 
Davis, Princeton 
Weeks, Michigan 
Barry, Brown 
Metcalf, Yale 
Bowman, Yale 


end Metzgar, Pennsylvania 

tackle Farr, Chicago 

guard Lerum, Wisconsin 

centre McCabe, Pennsylvania 

guard Marshall, Harvard 

tackle Schacht, Minnesota 

end Farmer, Dartmouth 

quarter Daly, West Point 

halfback Foulke, Princeton 

halfback Heston, Michigan 

fullback Torney, West Point 
















Henry, Princeton 
Hogan, Yale 
De Witt, Princeton 
Hooper, Dartmouth 
A. Marshall, Harvard 
Knowlton, Harvard 
Rafferty, Yale 
Johnson, Carlisle 
Heston, Michigan 
Kafer, Princeton 
Smith, Columbia 


Davis, Princeton 
Thorpe, Columbia 
Riley, West Point 
Strathern, Minnesota 
Gilman, Dartmouth 
Schacht, Minnesota 
Shevlin, Yale 
Whitman, Dartmouth 
Nichols, Harvard 
Mitchell, Yale 
R. Miller, Princeton 













Redden, Michigan 
Turner, Dartmouth 
Berthke, Wisconsin 
Bruce, Columbia 
Piekarski, Pennsylvania 
Maddock, Michigan 
Rogers, Minnesota 
Harris, Minnesota 
Graver, Michigan 
Stankard, Holy Cross 
Salmon, Notre Dame 




end Shevlin, Yale 

tackle Cooney, Princeton 

guard Piekarski, Pennsylvania 

centre Tipton, West Point 

guard Kinney, Yale 

tackle Hogan, Yale 

end Eckersall, Chicago 

Weede, Pennsylvania 
Thorpe, Columbia 
Gilman, Dartmouth 
Ror aback, Yale 
Tripp, Yale 
Curtiss, Michigan 
Gillesple, West Point 


1904 (Continued) 


quarter Stevenson, Pennsylvania 
halfback Hurley, Harvard 
halfback Heston, Michigan 
fullback Smith, Pennsylvania 


Rockwell, Yale 
Reynolds, Pennsylvania 
Hubbard, Amherst 
Mills, Harvard 


end Glaze, Dartmouth 

tackle Butkiewicz, Pennsylvania 

guard Short, Princeton 

centre Torrey, Pennsylvania 

guard Thorpe, Minnesota 

tackle Doe, West Point 

end Rothgeb, Illinois 

quarter Harris, Minnesota 

halfback Hoyt, Yale 

halfback Vaughn, Dartmouth 

fullback Bender, Nebraska 



end Shevlin, Yale 

tackle Lamson, Pennsylvania 

guard Tripp, Yale 

centre Torrey, Pennsylvania 

guard Burr, Harvard 

tackle Squires, Harvard 

end Glaze, Dartmouth 

quarter Eckersall, Chicago 

halfback Roome, Yale 

halfback Hubbard, Amherst 

fullback McCormick, Princeton 


Catlin, Chicago 
Forbes, Yale 
Thompson, Cornell 
Flanders, Yale 
Schulte, Michigan 
Curtiss, Michigan 
Marshall, Minnesota 
Hutchinson, Yale 
Morse, Yale 
Sheble, Pennsylvania 
Van Saltza, Columbia 




end Levine, Pennsylvania 

tackle Berthke, Wisconsin 

guard Fletcher, Brown 

centre Gale, Chicago 

guard Maxwell, Swarthmore 

tackle Biglow, Yale 

end Tooker, Princeton 

quarter Crowell, Swarthmore 

halfback Hammond, Michigan 

halfback Findlay, Wisconsin 

fullback Bedeck, Chicago 



ena Forbes, Yale 

tackle Biglow, Yale 

guard Burr, Harvard 

centre Dunn, Penn. State 

guard Thompson, Cornell 

tackle Cooney, Princeton 

end Wister, Princeton 

quarter Eckersall, Chicago 

halfback Mayhew, Brown 

halfback Knox, Yale 

fullback Veeder,Yale 


Dague, Annapolis 
Draper, Pennsylvania 
Ziegler, Pennsylvania 
Hockenberger, Yale 
Dillon, Princeton 
Osborn, Harvard 
Marshall, Minnesota 
Jones, Yale 

Hollenback, Pennsylvania 
Wendell, Harvard 
McCormick, Princeton 


end Levine, Pennsylvania 

tackle Weeks, West Point 

guard Kersberg, Harvard 

centre Hunt, Indians 

guard Christy, West Point 

tackle Northcroft, Annapolis 

end Exendine, Carlisle 


1906 (Continued} 

quarter E. Dillon, Princeton 

halfback Morse, Yale 

halfback Manier, Vanderbilt 

fullback Cartels, Michigan 



end Dague, Annapolis 

tackle Draper, Pennsylvania 

guard Ziegler, Pennsylvania 

centre Schulz, Michigan 

guard Erwin, West Point 

tackle Biglow, Yale 

end Alcott, Yale 

quarter Jones, Yale 

halfback Wendell, Harvard 

halfback Harlan, Princeton 

fullback McCormick, Princeton 


Exendine, Carlisle 
Horr, Syracuse 
Rich, Dartmouth 
Grant, Harvard 
Thompson, Cornell 
O'Rourke, Cornell 
Scarlett, Pennsylvania 
Dillon, Princeton 
Marks, Dartmouth 
Hollenback, Pennsylvania 
Coy, Yale 


end Wister, Princeton 

tackle Lang, Dartmouth 

guard Goebel, Yale 

centre Phillips, Princeton 

guard Krider, Swarthmore 

tackle Weeks, West Point 

end McDonald, Harvard 

quarter StefFen, Chicago 

halfback Capron, Minnesota 

halfback Houser, Carlisle 

fullback Douglas, Annapolis 





end Scarlett, Pennsylvania 
tackle Fish, Harvard 
guard Goebel, Yale 
centre Nourse, Harvard 
guard Tobin, Dartmouth 
tackle Horr, Syracuse 
end Schilmiller, Dartmouth 
quarter Steffen, Chicago 
halfback Tibbott, Princeton 
halfback Hollenback, Pennsyl- 
fullback Coy, Yale 


Dennie, Brown 
Siegling, Princeton 
Andrus, Yale 
Philoon, West Point 
Messmer, Wisconsin 
O'Rourke, Cornell 
Reifsnider, Annapolis 
Cutler, Harvard 
Ver Wiebe, Harvard 
Mayhew, Brown 
Walder, Cornell 


end Page, Chicago 

tackle Draper, Pennsylvania 

guard Van Hook, Illinois 

centre Brusse, Dartmouth 

guard Hoar, Harvard 

tackle Northcroft, Annapolis 

end Johnson, West Point 

quarter Miller, Pennsylvania 

halfback Thorpe, Carlisle 

halfback Gray, Amherst 

fullback McCaa, Lafayette 



end Regnier, Brown 

tackle Fish, Harvard 

guard Ben brook, Michigan 

centre Cooney, Yale 

guard Andrus, Yale 


Bankhart, Dartmouth 


Goeb^l, Yale 

P. Withington, Harvard 

Tobin, Dartmouth 



1909 (Continued) 



tackle Hobbs, Yale 

end Kilpatrick, Yale 

quarter McGovern, Minnesota 

halfback Philbin, Yale 

halfback Minot, Harvard 

fullback Coy, Yale 

McKay, Harvard 
Braddock, Pennsylvania 
Howe, Yale 
Allerdice, Michigan 
Magidsohn, Michigan 
Marks, Dartmouth 


tnd Page, Chicago 

tackle Siegling, Princeton 

guard L. Withington, Harvard 

centre Farmim, Minnesota 

guard Fisher, Harvard 

tackle Casey, Michigan 

end McCaffrey, Fordham 

quarter Sprackling, Brown 

halfback Corbett, Harvard 

halfback Miller, Notre Dame 

fullback McCaa, Lafayette 


end Kilpatrick, Yale 

tackle McKay, Harvard 

guard Benbrook, Michigan 

centre Cozens, Pennsylvania 

guard Fisher, Harvard 

tackle Walker, Minnesota 

end Wells, Michigan 

quarter Sprackling, Brown 

halfback Wendell, Harvard^ 

halfback Pendleton, Princeton 

fullback Mercer, Pennsylvania 


(No selection) 


(No selection) 




end White, Princeton 

tackk Hart, Princeton 

guard Fisher, Harvard 

centre Ketcham, Yale 

guard Duff, Princeton 

tackle Devore, West Point 

end Bomeisler, Yale 

quarter Howe, Yale 

halfback Wendell, Harvard 

halfback Thorpe, Carlisle 

fullback Dalton, Annapolis 


Smith, Harvard 
Munk, Cornell 
Scruby, Chicago 
Bluthenthal, Princeton 
McDevitt, Yale 
Scully, Yale 
Very, Penn. State 
Sprackling, Brown 
Morey, Dartmouth 
Camp, Yale 
Rosenwald, Minnesota 


end Ashbaugh, Brown 

tackle Buser, Wisconsin 

guard Francis, Yale 

centre Weems, Annapolis 

guard Arnold, West Point 

tackle Brown, Annapolis 

end Kallett, Syracuse 

quarter Capron, Minnesota 

halfback Mercer, Pennsylvania 

halfback Wells, Michigan 

fullback Hudson, Trinity 




end Felton, Harvard Very, Penn. State 

tackle Englehorn, Dartmouth Probst, Syracuse 



1912 (Continued} 






















Pennock, Harvard 
Ketcham, Yale 
Logan, Princeton 
Butler, Wisconsin 
Bomeisler, Yale 
Crowther, Brown 
Brickiey, Harvard 
Thorpe, Carlisle 
Mercer, Pennsylvania 


Cooney, Yale 
Parmenter, Harvard 
Kulp, Brown 
Trickey, Iowa 
Hoeffel, Wisconsin 
Pazzetti, Lehigh 
Morey, Dartmouth 
Norgren, Chicago 
Wendell, Harvard 


end Ashbaugh, Brown 

tackle Shaughnessy, Minnesota 

guard Bennett, Dartmouth 

centre Bluthenthal, Princeton 

guard Brown, Annapolis 

tackle Devore, West Point 

end Jordan, Bucknell 

quarter Bacon, Wesleyan 

halfback Hardage, Vanderbilt 

halfback Baker, Princeton 

fullback Pumpelly, Yale 



Hogsett, Dartmouth 
Ballin, Princeton 
Pennock, Harvard 
Des Jardiens, Chicago 
Brown, Annapolis 
Talbot, Yale 
Merrilat, West Point 
Huntington, Colgate 
Craig, Michigan 
Brickiey, Harvard 
Mahan, Harvard 


Fritz, Cornell 
Butler, Wisconsin 
Busch, Carlisle 
Marring, Yale 
Ketcham, Yale 
Weyand, West Point 
Hardwick, Harvard 
Wilson, Yale 
Spiegel, Wash, and Jeff. 
Guyon, Carlisle 
Eichenlaub, Notre Dame 




end Solon, Minnesota 

tackle ' Halligan, Nebraska 

guard Munns, Cornell 

centre Paterson, Michigan 

guard Talman, Rutgers 

tackle Storer, Harvard 

end Rockne, Notre Dame 

quarter Miller, Perm. State 

halfback Baker, Princeton 

halfback Norgren, Chicago 

fullback Whitney, Dartmouth 



end Hardwick, Harward 

tackle Ballin, Princeton 

guard Pennock, Harvard 

centre McEwan, West Point 

guard Chapman, Illinois 

tackle Trumbull, Harvard 

end O'Hearn, Cornell 

quarter Ghee, Dartmouth 

halfback Maulbetsch, Michigan 

halfback Bradlee, Harvard 

fullback Mahan, Harvard 


Merrilat, West Point 
Nash, Rutgers 
Jordan, Texas 
Des Jardiens, Chicago 
Shenk, Princeton 
Patterson, Wash, and Jeff. 
Brann, Yale 
Barrett, Cornell 
Spiegel, Wash, and Jeff. 
Cahall, Lehigh 
LeGore, Yale 


end Solon, Minnesota 

tackle Halligan, Nebraska 

guard Spears, Dartmouth 

centre Cruikshank, Wash, and Jeff. 

guard Meacham, West Point 

tackle Weyand, West Point 

end Overesch, Annapolis 



1914 (Continued} 

quarter Wilson, Yale 

halfback Pogue, Illinois 

halfback Talman, Rutgers 

Jullback Whitney, Dartmouth 



end Baston, Minnesota 

tackle Gilman, Harvard 

guard Spears, Dartmouth 

centre Peck, Pittsburgh 

guard Schlachter, Syracuse 

tackle Abell, Colgate 

end Shelton, Cornell 

quarter Barrett, Cornell 

halfback King, Harvard 

halfback Macomber, Illinois 

fullback Mahan, Harvard 


Herron, Pittsburgh 
Buck, Wisconsin 
Hogg, Princeton 
Cool, Cornell 
Black, Yale 
Vandergraaf, Alabama 
Higgins, Penn. State 
Watson^ Harvard 
Tibbott, Princeton 
Oliphant, West Point 
Talman, Rutgers 


end Heyman, Wash, and Jeff. 

tackle Cody, Vanderbilt 

guard Dadmun, Harvard 

centre McEwan, West Point 

guard Taylor, Auburn 

tackle Halligan, Nebraska 

end Squier, Illinois 

quarter Russell, Chicago 

halfback Abraham, Oregon Aggies 

halfback Mayer, Virginia 

fullback Berryman, Penn, State 





end Baston, Minnesota 

tackle West, Colgate 

guard Black, Yale 

centre Peck, Pittsburgh 

guard Dadmun, Harvard 

tackle Horning, Colgate 

end Moseley, Yale 

quarter Anderson, Colgate 

halfback Oliphant, West Point 

halfback Pollard, Brown 

fullback Harley, Ohio State 


Herron, Pittsburgh 
Ward, Annapolis 
Hogg, Princeton 
McEwan, West Point 
Backman, Notre Dame 
Gates, Yale 
Miller, Pennsylvania 
Purdy, Brown 
LeGore, Yale 
Casey, Harvard 
Berry, Pennsylvania 


end Coolidge, Harvard 

tackle Beckett, Oregon 

guard Garrett, Rutgers 

centre Phillips, Georgia Tech. 

guard Seagraves, Washington 

tackle Ignico, Wash, and Jeff. 

end Vowell, Tennessee 

quarter Curry, Vanderbilt 

halfback Gilroy, Georgetown 

halfback Driscoll, Northwestern 

fullback McCreight, Wash, and Jeff. 

In 1917, owing to American participation in the World War, 
Walter Camp did not make an All-America football selection. In 
1918, with the United States at war, Walter Camp did not choose 
a collegiate All-America football team, but chose a Service All- 
America team from the training camps. College and military 
training camps are shown. 






end Rasmussen, Nebraska 

tackle Beckett, Oregon 

Mare Island 
guard Black, Yale 

Newport Reserve 
centre Callahan, Yale 

Newport Reserve 
guard Allendinger, Michigan 

Fort Sheridan 
tackle West, Colgate 

end Gardiner, Carlisle 

quarter Watkins, Colgate 

halfback Casey, Harvard 

Boston Navy Yard 
halfback Mi not, Harvard 

fullback Smith, Michigan 

Great Lakes 

EUenberger, Cornell 

Mori arty 

Coast Naval Reserve 
Thurinan, Virginia 

Hommand, Kansas 

Withington, Harvard 

Blacklock, Michigan Aggy 

Great Lakes 

Mare Island Marines 
Anderson, Colgate 

Shiverick, Cornell 

Barrett, Cornell 

Newport Reserves 
Maxfield, Lafayette 

Fort Slocum 


end Dennit, Brown 

tackle Robertson, Dartmouth 

guard Snyder, 9ist Division 

centre White, Yale 

guard Holder, gist Division 




tackle Lathrop, Notre Dame 

end Hunt 

Coast Naval Reserve 
quarter Costello, Georgetown 

halfback O'Boyle, Georgetown 

halfback Blair, Maryland 

Jullback Thayer, Pennsylvania 


Walter Camp noted in his selection that he had not included 
West Point and Annapolis ; and that some of the teams of Southern 
training camps had not finished their season when he made his 
choices, and so were not considered. 



end Higgins, Penn. State 
tackle West, Colgate 
guard Alexander, Syracuse 
centre Weaver, Center 
guard Youngstrom, Dartmouth 
tackle Henry, Wash, and Jeff. 
end H. Miller, Pennsylvania 
quarter McMillin, Center 
halfback Casey, Harvard 
halfback Harley, Ohio State 
fullback Rodgers, West Virginia 


Weston, Wisconsin 
Ingwersen, Illinois 
Denfield, Annapolis 
Bailey, West Virginia 
Depler, Illinois 
Grimm, Washington 
Dumoe, Lafayette 
Strubing, Princeton 
Trimble, Princeton 
Oss, Minnesota 
Braden, Yale 


end Blaik, West Point 

tackle Slater, Iowa 

guard Clark, Harvard 

centre Callahan, Yale 



1919 (Continued) 


Pixley, Ohio State 
Cody, Vanderbilt 
Roberts, Center 
Boynton, Williams 
Steers, Oregon 
Giilo, Colgate 
Robertson, Dartmouth 




end Carney, Illinois 
tackle Keck, Princeton 
guard Callahan/Yale 
centre Stein, Pittsburgh 
guard Woods, Harvard 
tackle Scott, Wisconsin 
end Finch er, Georgia Tech. 
quarter Lourie, Princeton 
halfback Stinchcomb,Ohio State 
halfback Way, Penn. State 
fullback Gipp, Notre Dame 

Urban, Boston College 
Goetz, Michigan 
Wilkie, Annapolis 
Cunningham, Dartmouth 
Alexander, Syracuse 
McMillan, California 
LeGendre, Princeton 
McMillin, Center 
Garrity, Princeton 
Davies, Pittsburgh 
French, West Point 


end Ewen, Annapolis 

tackle Voss, Detroit 

guard Breidster, West Point 

centre Havemeyer, Harvard 

guard Trott, Ohio State 

tackle Dickens, Yale 

end Muller, California 

quarter Boynton, Williams 

halfback Haines, Penn. State 

halfback Leech, Virginia Military Institute 

fullback Horween, Harvard 





end Muller, California 

tackle Stein, Wash, and Jeff. 

guard Schwab, Lafayette 

centre Vick, Michigan 

guard Brown, Harvard 

tackle McGuire, Chicago 

end Roberts, Center 

quarter A. Devine, Iowa 

halfback Killing er, Penn. State 

'halfback Aldrich, Yale 

fullback Kaw, Cornell 


Swanson, Nebraska 
Slater, Iowa 
Trott, Ohio State 
Larsen, Annapolis 
Bedenk, Penn. State 
Keck, Princeton 
Kiley, Notre Dame 
McMillin, Center 
Owen, Harvard 
Davies, Pittsburgh 
Mohardt, Notre Dame 


end Crisler, Chicago 

tackle Into, Yale 

guard Pucelik, Nebraska 

centre Stein, Pittsburgh 

guard Whelchel, Georgia 

tackle McMillan, California 

end Stephens, California 

quarter Lourie, Princeton 

halfback French, West Point 

halfback Barchet, Annapolis 

fullback Barron, Georgia Tech. 



end Taylor, Annapolis 

tackle Treat, Princeton 

guard Schwab, Lafayette 

centre Garbisch, West Point 

guard Hubbard, Harvard 

tackle Thurman, Pennsylvania 


Kirk, Michigan 
Waldorf, Syracuse 
Cross, yale 
Bowser, Pittsburgh 
Setron, West Virginia 
Neidlinger, Dartmouth 



1922 (Continued) 


end Muller, California 
quarter Locke, Iowa 
halfback Kaw, Cornell 
halfback Kipke, Michigan 

n Thomas, Chicago 


Bomar, Vanderbilt 
Smythe, West Point 
Morrison, California 
Owen, Harvard 
Barren, Georgia Tech. 


.end Kopf, Wash, and Jeff. 

tackle. Below, Wisconsin 

guard McMillen, Illinois 

centre Peterson, Nebraska 

guard Dickinson, Princeton 

tackle Gulian, Brown 

end Kadesky, Iowa 

quarter Uteritz, Michigan 

halfback Jordan, Yale 

"halfback Barchet, Annapolis 

fullback Castner, Notre Dame 



end Bomar, Vanderbilt 

tackle Milstead, Yale 

guard Hubbard, Harvard 

centre Blott, Michigan 

guard Bedenk, Penn. State 

tackle Sundstrom, Cornell 

end Hazel, Rutgers 

quarter Pfann, Cornell 

halfback Grange, Illinois 

halfback Martineau, Minnesota 

fullback Mallory, Yale 


McRae, Syracuse 
Wiederquist, Wash, and Jeff. 
Brown, Notre Dame 
Lovejoy, Yale 
Aschenbach, Dartmouth 
Deibel, Lafayette 
Tallman, West Virginia 
Richeson, Yale 
Wilson, Penn. State 
Tryon, Colgate 
Stevens, Yale 




end Stout, Princeton 

tackle Beam, California 

guard . Carney, Annapolis 

centre Garbisch, West Point 

guard Johnson, Texas A. and M. 

tackle Bassett, Nebraska 

end Luman, Yale 

quarter Dunn, Marquette 

halfback Koppish, Columbia 

halfback Bohr en, Pittsburgh 

Jullback Nevers, Stanford 




end Bjorkman, Dartmouth 
tackle McGinley, Pennsylvania 
guard Slaughter, Michigan 
centre Garbisch, West Point 
guard Horrell, California 
tackle Weir, Nebraska 
end Berry, Lafayette 
quarter Stuhldreher, Notre 


halfback Grange, Illinois 
halfback Kpppisch, Columbia 
Jullback Hazel, Rutgers 

Wakefield, Vanderbilt 
Beattie, Princeton 
Abramson, Minnesota 
Lovejoy, Yale 
Pondelik, Chicago 
Waldorf, Syracuse 
Lawson, Stamford 
Slagle, Princeton 
Pond, Yale 

Wilson, Univer. of Wash, 
Crowley, Notre Dame 


end Mahaney, Holy Cross 

tackle Wissinger, Pittsburgh 
guard Fleckenstein, Iowa 

centre Walsh, Notre Dame 

guard ' Mahan, West Virginia 
tackle Gowdy, Chicago 


1924 (Continued) 

end Frazer, West Point 

quarter Stivers, Idaho 

halfback Imlay, California 

halfback Keefeij Brown 

fullback Strader> St. Mary's 


The words "Daily Dozen" have come into such 
common use that many people are now doing 
curious physical exercises of their own devising 
or which they dimly remember from their school- 
days and say proudly that they are doing the 
Daily Dozen. They are not. The words apply 
to only one simple and easily , learned system -of 
movements. There is no apparatus; no dumb- 
bells or wands or chest weights or medicine ball ; 
nothing to buy, and no more space necessary than 
you have in your bedroom. 


In his book. The Daily Dozen, published by 
the Reynolds Publishing Company, Inc., New 
York City, from which the quotation that follows 
is made by permission, Walter Camp makes certain 
suggestions that will make the Daily Dozen more 
effective. To a young man or woman, cramped 
and confined by indoor life, he recommends the 
Daily Dozen once in the morning, once at noon, 
and once at night. To older people, he recom- 
mends this exercise only once a day. His specific 
advice on the different movements is, in part, as 
follows : 


i. Hands: This exercise, 
and the next two, are chiefly 
for use in groups, with a 
leader. At the command 
" hands," stand erect, arms 
hanging at sides, heels 
slightly separated, feet 
pointed straight ahead. 

2. Hips: Without chang- 
ing position of body, 
place hands on hips, 
thumbs pointing to the 
rear, fingers extended. 
This r motion should be 
made easily, without the 
stiffness of military drill 

3. Head: Bring both arms 
up, bracing elbows to the 
rear and allow the tips of 
the fingers to meet at the 
back of the head. If you 
are directing a class, vary 
the order of these three 

7. Crawl: "Cross" 
position. Raise left 
arm, and let the right 
hand crawl slowly 
down toward right 
knee, curving left arm 
over head, until fingers 
touch right side of neck. 
Resume "cross" po- 
sition. Then reverse 
these arm movements. 
Repeat ten times. 

8. Curl : " Cross " position, feet 
1 8 inches apart. Clench fists, 
lower arms (inhaling) and bend 
slowly forward until fists come un- 
der arm pits, head and shoulders 
bacik. Loosen hands, and push 
straight forward (exhaling). 
Then bend forward from waist, 
letting hands come back across 
hips and raise them behind you. 
Begin to inhale again as you re- 
turn to " cross " position, ready 
to repeat. Ten times. 

g. Crouch: " Cross" 
position, feet 18 inches 
apart. Rise on toes; 
keep arms out. Squat 
slowly down as far as 
you can, inhaling. 
Come up slowly, exhal- 
ing, and letting heels 
touch^ floor as you rise. 
Five times. 


4. Grind : Arms outstretched 
straight from shoulders. 
This is called the " cross " 
position. Keeping the arms 
stiff, turn the palms upward 
and make six-inch circles 
with hands, five times for- 
ward, five backward. 

5. Grate : t Arms at 
" cross " position, palms 
down. Lift arms very 
slowly to angle of about 
forty-five degrees (inhal- 
ing). Bring them down 
slowly to shoulder level 
(exhaling). Repeat ten 

6. Grasp: Stand at 
"head " position. Keep- 
ing neck bent back, in- 
cline body forward (ex- 
haling). Straighten 
slowly (inhaling) to first 
position, then bend back- 
ward as far as possible. 
Repeat ten times. 

ip. "Wave:/' Cross" po- 
sition. Raise arms and 
lock fingers above head. 
Snap arms against 
head. Moving only from 
waist, make a circle with 
your clasped hands ex- 
tended above your head. 
Repeat five times in each 

ii. Weave : " Cross" posi- 
tion, feet apart. Raise 
right arm, keeping eyes on 
it as it goes up ; bend left 
knee and lower left arm 
until fingers touch floor, 
between feet. Come back 
slowly to "cross" position 
and reverse. Five times 
for each hand. 

12. Wing: "Cross" posi- 
tion. Exhale, bringing arms 
straight before you. Swing 
arms down and back, bend- 
ing forward slowly from 
waist. Keep head up, eyes 
forward. Go back slowly 
to "cross" position, inhal- 
ing, and raise arms straight 
up over head. Ten times. 


The first three exercises, HANDS, HIPS, HEAD, 
were devised for use in groups, but they can be used 
also by the individual under his own commands. 
They are excellent postural motions, and will increase 
muscular control Go through each of them ten times. 
At "HANDS/' the fingers should be on the thighs, 
the arms straight down and nearly, but not quite, fully 
extended. At "HIPS," the hands should be placed as 
in the illustration, with the elbows back. At "HEAD," 
touch the tips of the fingers together behind the head, 
with eyes facing straight to the front, chin brought 
slightly in, and the elbows kept back. When you 
bring the hands down, they should be under control 
and not flop down. 

In the "GRIND," turn the palms of the hands 
squarely upward, and keep the shoulders back ; make 
the motion almost entirely from the shoulders, and feel 
that you are lifting, as it were, and lifting slowly so 
that the effort is felt in the muscles of the shoulders. 

In the "GRATE," the arms should be lifted from 
the shoulders with the backs of the hands upward, and 
elevated at an angle of exactly forty-five degrees. 

In the "GRASP," pay particular attention to keep- 
ing the head up as the body goes forward. Keep your 
eyes fixed throughout on a point directly ahead of 
them. Exhale while the body is going forward and 
inhale as it rises. In going forward, the movement 
should be very slight, just enough to secure the slight 
pull on the abdominal muscles, without putting any 
strain on them. 

In the "CRAWL," the motion is largely made just 
above the hips (like the pivot in golf). The hand that 


rests on the thigh should slide down while the other 
curls over the head. In the " CURL/' head and shoul- 
ders should go slightly back as the fists are brought 
into the armpits. Take a full inhalation as this mo- 
tion is made, and then exhale slightly as the hands are 
put out in front and then swept down past the hips 
and up behind the body. When this final position is 
reached, inhalation begins slowly in order to reach its 
maximum when the body is once more erect. In the 
"CROUCH/ 5 it is good practice after complete control 
has been acquired to balance in the lowered position, 
while moving slightly from side to side. This will still 
further strengthen the arches of the feet. 

In the "WAVE/' no extreme motions are desirable; 
the more closely the arms are kept to the ears, the more 
effective is this movement. In the "WEAVE," keep 
the extended arms in line with the shoulder turning the 
body, and letting the forward hand touch midway 
between the feet. In the "WING," pay particular 
attention to getting the breathing rhythmic ; exhaling 
as the body goes down and inhaling as it comes up. 

Each of these movements has its own particular 
province; among them, they cover the entire muscular 
circuit. The "GRIND" flattens down projecting 
shoulder blades, at the same time expanding the chest. 
The "GRATE" puts a muscular cap over the shoulder, 
which greatly improves its appearance. The " GRASP " 
strengthens the muscles at the back of the neck, giving 
better poise to the head which often relieves eyestrain. 
The "CRAWL" tends to massage the middle section 
of the body. The "CURL" is a breathing exercise 
and also improves the muscles of the back. The 


"CROUCH" greatly" improves control of the back 
muscles so. vital in all outdoor games, and strengthens 
the arches of the feet. The "WAVE" strengthens the 
muscles of the sides, and tends to reduce any excess 
weight at the waist. -The "WEAVE" gives particular 
work to the muscles of the back, and even more than 
the "WAVE" it tends to take off excess fat around 
the waist. Finally, the "WING" tends to make the 
breathing more rhythmic without conscious effort, at 
the same -time giving a certain amount of muscular 
improvement at the shoulders and back. When spe- 
cial results are desired, the use of any particular move- 
ment may be increased.