Brown Bears (1926-27)

Our next team in our roundup of old-time Eastern powerhouses is the 1926 Brown Bears, known as the “Iron Men” after their starting 11 played every minute of back-to-back wins over Yale and Dartmouth. The Iron Men also played nearly every minute in a win over Harvard. (The subs played the final two minutes so they could earn their varsity letters, a classy touch.) 

The Iron Men, in all their glory. This and the following photos
are all from the Brown Daily Herald archive.

The Bears went 9-0-1 for the only undefeated team in program history and outscored their foes, 223-35. Sounds like one of history’s greatest, right? Well, Lee Corso wasn’t born for another nine years, so he wasn't around to say “Not so fast, my friend!” 

Tip Top 25’s review of the 1926 season notes that Brown didn’t defeat any major team with a winning record. The other wins came over the likes of Rhode Island, Colby, Lehigh, Bates, Norwich and New Hampshire — today, that’s two CAA teams, two NESCAC teams, a Patriot League team and  … (pauses to look up Norwich’s league) a NEWMAC team. Not exactly the Big Ten. The tie was against Colgate, which Tip Top has tied with Brown at No. 15 in its hypothetical AP Top 25. Still, it was a pretty amazing team, especially given Old Bruno's rather spotty grid history. Tip Top has plenty more info on the ’26 Bears in the link above, give it a read.

The Iron Men, according to Wikipedia, were: Thurston Towle, Paul Hodge, Orland Smith, Charles Considine, Lou Farber, Ed Kevorkian, Hal Broda, Al Cornsweet, Dave Mishel, Ed Lawrence and Roy Randall. Randall, a back, and Broda, an end, were All-Americans. 

All-Americans Roy Randall ...

... and Hal Broda.

The coach was first-year mentor DeOrmand “Tuss” McLaughry, who’s the answer to a trivia question: Who’s the only College Football Hall of Fame coach with a losing record? His final record was 143-149-13 at Westminster, Amherst, Brown and Dartmouth (where he ran that program into the ground before he was replaced by Bob Blackman in 1955). 

Tuss McLaughry, owner
of a dubious distinction.

The uniforms, also used in 1927, came in two varieties: Plain, and with friction stripes and pads to help better secure the football. By 1928, all the jerseys were “padded.”

We’re going to move back a year for our next team, an Ivy League school that bagged its only national championship and made everyone "green" with envy (har-har). 

Harvard Crimson (1919-25)

Recently, I’ve been digging through Tip Top 25, which can be quite the rabbit hole if you have an interest in the history of college football, particularly from the first half of the 20th century. The site attempts to “fix” the season-ending AP polls going back to the first one in 1936, and also creates hypothetical polls from 1901-35. The latter is where the real interest lies for me, since it’s the era when teams from the East (and, thus, teams in this project) where actually relevant in college football before the Ivy League isolated itself from the rest of the world and was content to pad out its non-league schedules with Yankee Conference and Patriot League teams. 

The next several posts will take a look at some of these mythical national title contenders from that era (I wonder what a mythical national title trophy looks like?), beginning with the 1919 Harvard squad, since this is the 100th anniversary of the Crimson’s first, last and only Rose Bowl appearance. (Harvard even wore a commiserative Rose Bowl patch for a game earlier this season.) Much of the information here comes from Tip Top 25's articles on the 1919 season.

The 1919 Harvard Crimson. I had to dig through the 1920 Oregona
yearbook to find this one.

The Crimson went 9-0-1 in ’19 to claim a share of the national title; Harvard claims 13, most of them from college football Mesozoic era (this was No. 12; the Cantabs added No. 13 in ’20). Much of Harvard’s schedule was frankly weak, padded with wins over the likes of Bates, Colby, Springfield and Tufts (geez, guys, why don’t you just join NESCAC?). Other victims included Boston College — one of only four times the Crimson and Eagles have ever played in football, all coinciding with world wars —  Virginia and Yale, plus a tie with Princeton. 

Harvard accepted a berth in what was then called the Tournament of Roses game (the Rose Bowl stadium wasn’t built for a new more years) in order to generate interest in a fundraising campaign. The Crimson defeated the Oregon Webfoots (hey, that’s what Wikipedia says that was their handle then) 7-6 on a 15-yard TD run by substitute Freddy Church. Oregon missed several field goal attempts, and a Harvard clock-killing drive in the fourth quarter sealed the win. According to the Tip Top article, Harvard’s appearance helped propel the game from a post-season novelty into a major sporting event, one that continues to rivet the nation to this day. Who knew?

The star of the team was 150-pound halfback Eddie Casey, a College Football Hall of Famer, who was the MVP of the Rose Bowl and later served as Harvard's head coach.

With an undefeated season and a Rose Bowl win seems like a national championship from the surface, apparently that was not the case for Harvard. Eastern writers in 1919 thought Penn State was a better team (the Nittany Lions defeated top-10 teams Dartmouth, Penn and Pitt, while Harvard’s only ranked victims were top-20 Princeton and Oregon) and Tip Top rates the Crimson at a still-respectable No. 5, had there been an AP poll then. Tip Top has the '20 Crimson at No. 2 behind Rose Bowl-winning Cal.

Harvard’s uniforms, as you can see, were pretty basic: Crimson jersey, socks and helmet (I think; I wouldn’t be shocked if brown headgear was worn instead), and some jerseys had a big felt square on the front (the better to keep those footballs in place when carrying the ball!). This was Harvard’s basic look until 1926, when friction stripes replaced the squares  the front. I wouldn’t be shocked if other designs were out there awaiting discovery; I’m just dipping my toes into research for 1920s uniforms. 

Next time, we’ll look a team of iron men who played 60 minutes a game. No specialist wimps need apply!

Yeah, well, you still missed a bunch of field goal attempts.
Geez, even then the Ducks were an arrogant bunch.

UMass Redmen (1963)

OK, so it’s not easy being a UMass football fan these days. An ill-advised move from the FCS Colonial Athletic Association to the FBS Mid-America Conference — with a long-term goal of joining what was then called the Big East (now American Athletic Conference) — blew up in the Minutemen’s faces like a faulty musket. Now UMass now wanders the lonely streets of FBS independence, suffering blowouts at the hands of FBS wannabes like Liberty, Charlotte and Southern Illinois in front of meager crowds. (What, you mean the Salukis are still FCS? Oops.) 

Even worse, the Minutemen are so bad the likes of Dan Shaughnessy, who feasts off failure like a hungry defense feasts off bad QBs, are breathing down their necks. (Do a Google search if you want to read what he said; like hell I’m going to link Shank here.) 

Needless to say, the move to FBS has been a disaster from day one. 

But the situation wasn’t always so gloomy in Amherst. From 1960 to about 2007, the University of Massachusetts had one of New England’s elite programs more often than not. Although I went to conference rival Maine, I enthusiastically cheered on the Minutemen when they steamrolled to the 1998 FCS (I-AA) title, the first national championship in the school’s history in any sport. Years earlier, UMass beat the likes of Boston College and Dartmouth (back when the Ivy League was considered to have some of New England’s finest team). At one point in the 1960s, UMass went 24-1 in Yankee Conference (the CAA’s predecessor) competition. 

Which brings us to 1963 — the most dominant season in UMass history — hell, one of the most dominant seasons anyone in New England ever had.

The dream team of 1963.

Keep in mind that college football as a whole was a very different game then, with a heavy emphasis on running, defense and not making mistakes — which made for some very conservative football. There were no 62-54 basketball-like scores then. That disclaimer out of the way, let’s break down the numbers for the ’63 Redmen (as they were called then):

UMass  Team Them

8 Wins 0 (one tie)

3,060 Total yds. 475

146 1st downs 85

12 TD passes 0

24 Def. INTs      5

265 Points 12

Check the last number on the bottom right. That’s not a misprint. That reads 12. 

T-W-E-L-V-E. All season. Even elite defensive teams today will surrender 12 points in a quarter. 

Don’t believe me? Here, check the scores, ripped straight from the UMass record book: 

UMass allowed one touchdown, one field goal and one safety all season. That’s all. 

Lest you think every team played like this in the olden days, the ’62 team, which went 6-2, allowed 111 points; the ’64 team. which went 8-2 and ran the table in the YC again, allowed a “whopping” 76. Even by 1960s standards, this was one amazing defense. On a “big-time” level, the only team from that era with an accomplishment similar to that of UMass would be the 1961 Alabama team that won the national title while allowing 25 points all year.

UMass was picked to win the Yankee Conference by Sports Illustrated on the strength of nearly 20 regulars returning, including quarterback Jerry Whelchel and ends Bob Meers and Milt Morin (who went on to a distinguished NFL career with the Cleveland Browns).

These photos are all from the 1964 UMass Index yearbook.
I'll step aside and let the captions do the talking.

The season began innocuously enough with a come-from-behind 14-7 win over Maine, a two-TD underdog. But no one dreamed that Maine QB Dick DeVarney’s TD run 10:25 into the first period would mark the only time all season a UMass foe entered the end zone. “The next 529 minutes, 35 seconds found the UMass goal line more difficult to cross than the Berlin Wall,” the Massachusetts Collegian wrote in its season wrap-up.

The next week brought a scoreless tie at Harvard, which went on to finish 5-2-2, 4-2-1 in Ivy League play. Next was a 21-0 win over Bucknell and a 21-3 decision over UConn (UMass, feeling generous, allowed the Huskies to make a field goal). Then the Redmen stopped pussyfooting and dealt four straight shutouts — Rhode Island (57-0), Boston University (21-0), Vermont (41-0) and American International (42-0) were no match for the UMass juggernaut. The season ended with a 48-2 demolition of New Hampshire, for years the traditional season-ending rivalry game. The only blemish was a UNH sack in the end zone for a safety and two points.

While there was talk about participating in a possible bowl game, the school’s athletic council declined any postseason invites, declaring that “an extension of the season for five weeks would be too much for them.” (UMass did go on to participate in the Tangerine Bowl after the 1964 season, where it lost to East Carolina.)

So who were these guys who allowed only a dozen points? Whelchel, the quarterback, threw for nine TDs and picked off three passes as a defensive back (remember, two-way play was still in vogue then) and kicked 34 extra points. Whelchel, Meers, Morin, tackle Paul Graham and guard Bob Teboldi were named all-Yankee Conference, occupying five of 11 slots (separate teams for offense and defense came later in the decade). Bernie Dallas was a force at linebacker. Another player, linebacker-defensive end Phil Vandersea, went on to play for the Green Bay Packers. Head coach Vic Fusia won the first of five YC titles in his 10-year stint (1961-70) in Amherst. 

Ah, yes, the uniforms. For the first time since the early 1940s, UMass wore red helmets after several seasons in either with or gold headgear. White helmets returned in 1969. The home jerseys resemble those of the St. Louis (football) Cardinals, while the road versions, with gold trim, have their own unique look … well, unique outside of Chestnut Hill. 

While UMass football may have hit the skids, it’s good to recall a time when its dominance was the talk of New England football back when fans’ interest went beyond the top 25 and the power conferences. And if the bad football continues … well, I hear that hockey team is halfway decent. 

Yankee Conference 1969

And now, the Yankee Conference uniforms of 1969, college football's centennial year. UMass won the league with a 5-0 conference mark, one of FIVE times that decade the then-Redmen ran the table in YC play. Some other tids n' bits ...

* Four of the YC's six teams (UMass, UConn, Maine and UVM) wore the "100" decal on their helmets. UMass and UConn wore them on both sides, Maine wore it on just the right side (shown on the left on the graphic above for consistency's sake; I should fix it) and UVM wore it on the back. The red 100 logo for Maine is an educated guess; from photos I've seen, it seems to contrast the navy blue helmet. And since Maine wore red trim on the socks (which complements the light blue trim so lovely -- yes, I'm being sarcastic) ...

This page from UMass' 1970 Index yearbook shows off
the college football centennial logo in all its glory. 

* '69 was the first year UMass returned to white helmets after several seasons in maroon lids. The team kept the white helmets (with a myriad of logos) through 2011, had a couple seasons with those awful black numbers, and brought the white helmets back in '14. 

* Those UConn uniforms are easily among the most boring in this history of this entire project, especially after so many inventive styles over the years. (Go ahead, do a search of other UConn entries on this blog; I can wait!)

UConn runs over New Hampshire in '69.
Wonder why the Wildcats didn't wear the "100" decal?

* This was Maine's only winning team from 1966-75, a rough era when the Black Bears ran the program on a shoestring (with ZERO scholarships). Their top player was wideout Gene Benner, who, according to Maine's Hall of Fame site, "held eight University, six New England and two Yankee Conference records upon graduation." For some of us who grew up in the Pine Tree State, however, we remember him more as a car dealer in South Paris, Maine, and the commercials that filled our autumn afternoons. 😎 

Maine takes on UConn in 1969. Take a look at the top right corner;
the right side of the helmet has the "100" decal, the left has the uniform number.

* One more note about UMass, while keeping in mind that college football, in terms of interest in New England-based teams, likely was more popular in '69 than in '19. The '69 Redmen averaged 12,775 fans for four home games. The '19 Minutemen, now a struggling (to put it nicely) FBS independent, have so far averaged 9,757 for five home games. The biggest draw? 12,234 for fellow struggling FBS foe UConn. Hint, hint, fellows ...

Rhode Island faces Temple in '69.
Notice that both teams are wearing dark jerseys.

Ivy League 1969

In a recent Facebook post, I noted that Princeton upset undeleted Dartmouth in the 1969 season finale to force a three-way tie for the Ivy League title between the Tigers, Big Green and Yale. Well, here's what Dartmouth, Yale and the rest of the Ivies wore in the fall of '69. Now, some tidbits:

• 1969, of course, was the 100th anniversary of college football (well, outside of Harvard, as noted in this post), but only Princeton — which played in the very first game in 1869 (sorry, no photographic evidence exists of what they wore) — chose to wore the “100” decal on the side of the helmet. Yale wore it on the front (the Bulldogs did wear it on the side in 1972 for the program’s centennial), while Columbia wore a tiny patch on the pants (Delaware also wore a patch, but on the jersey shoulder).
• Princeton opened its season at Rutgers, which the Tigers faced in the very first game a century earlier. The Scarlet Knights crushed the Tigers, 29-0. It’s too bad the teams didn’t play in a 150th anniversary game this year. With Princeton an elite FCS team and Rutgers by far the worst team in a Power Five conference — its only wins in '19 are over FBS wannabes UMass and Liberty — the Tigers would have more than a puncher’s chance against the Knights.
• You can read a delightful account about the 1969 game here. Rutgers wanted President Richard Nixon and/or moon man Buzz Aldrin to appear, but they declined and the Knights had to settle for TV star Ozzie Nelson -- hey, he was a former Rutgers QB -- as master of ceremonies. Oh well.
• Harvard, which had gone 8-0-1 the previous year and shared the Ivy title with Yale after the famous “Harvard beats Yale 29-29” game, slipped to 3-6.
• Dartmouth had creamed everyone in its path — its closest win was by 14 points over Harvard — and was 8-0 heading into its season finale at Princeton, which had just lost to Yale a week earlier for its first Ivy loss. The Tigers shocked the Big Green, 35-7, to create a three-way tie for the Ivy crown with Yale. 
• Speaking of the Greenies, this was the last year the home and road jerseys failed to match. In '70, Dartmouth ditched the curved-number home shirts for versions that were a mirror image of the roads, right down to the Indian logo on the sleeve.
• I always felt the late 60s-early 70s marked the Ivy League's last flirtation with big-time  college football: The '68 Harvard-Yale thriller, Dartmouth's top-20 finish in '70, Cornell's Ed Marinaro coming thisclose to winning the Heisman in '71 ... it marked the end of a glorious era for the Ivies, who within a few years had a hard team beating Yankee Conference teams.  

A Dartmouth program from '69. Yes, the Big Green
used the tree logo even then.

Ivy also-rans Penn and Columbia do battle in '69.