by Sam Hatcher
“Come on in, George. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,” said Hill. “Georgia Tech plans to sue us for breach of contract unless we either pay them three thousand dollars or play the game.”
George was devastated. For the past few days he had consoled himself with the idea that things would work out. That all would be forgiven, and that life would go on without a hitch.
“I’m not sure what this means for our school at this time,” Hill told George. “We don’t have the funds to spare. If we pay this, Cumberland University will likely go bankrupt. But I see no other choice.”
George, sick to the pit of his stomach, was stunned and couldn’t believe a wealthy school like Georgia Tech would not let them off the hook, after all, it was just a football game.
He tossed a series of questions to President Hill.
“What do you think is driving this? Who is making the decision for Tech? Is it Coach Heisman or the president? How much time do we have?”
It was that last question that would take precedence.
Who is calling the signals?
As President Hill began to address the dilemma, he began with George’s initial inquiry.
“I have to believe Coach Heisman is behind it,” Hill said. “You know better than anyone how angry he was last spring when you put together that baseball team that embarrassed him. He was livid, and if my memory serves me correctly, after that game he vowed he would get even. This, my young friend, is pure and unadulterated revenge.”
Georgia Tech President Kenneth Matheson
But there may have been more to it than one man’s wrath.
There were many characteristics shared by Georgia Tech President Kenneth Matheson and Coach John Heisman. Both men were stern, driven and determined and had built their reputations on the demand for self-discipline. They saw the world in black and white with no gray in between. Their answer to any question was either yes or no. They had a zero tolerance for human error.
The fifty-two-year-old Matheson had spent most of his professional career in education in college and prep-school military programs.
Born July 28, 1864, in Cheraw, South Carolina, Matheson graduated from The Citadel in 1885. His tenure as a student there very much shaped his adult life. He learned and practiced values associated with rigid discipline. He learned to polish brass, shine shoes, starch uniforms and make a serious commitment to academics.
He served as the commandant of cadets at Georgia Military College in Milledgeville, Georgia; at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville; and at the Missouri Military Academy in Mexico, Missouri. He earned a master’s degree in English from Stanford University before accepting a job as a junior professor of English at Georgia Tech in 1897. Promoted to full professor the following year, he was appointed acting president of the school in 1905. In 1906 he was officially made president of Georgia Tech, a role he held until 1922.
Matheson’s life was governed by principles associated with military discipline. His patience was limited when it came to students mixing a social life with academics. Study came first, second and third.
Heisman and Matheson were cut from the same cloth.
Heisman had a specific regimen when it came to matters of discipline, following rules, work ethic, and doing things the right way.
He was rigid but fair. He expected the best efforts from his players, and he believed the passion they held for their sport should be every bit as strong and fervent as his own.
Heisman came to Georgia Tech in 1904 at the age of thirty-five. His sights were set on a national championship and had not dimmed.
So, who was forcing the game?
Perhaps it was both.
No other option
President Hill and George began to evaluate their options. Hill took the matter to the members of the University’s board of trust. The response he got was not one of understanding.
Board members, realizing the school was at risk of financial failure, wanted answers. They wanted to know why Tech had not been given adequate notice about the cancellation of the football schedule and they wanted to know who was to blame.
They ordered Hill to report three days later at special meeting at two o’clock Friday afternoon. So he had but three days to strategize and present all the options.
Confiding in George, President Hill told him about the meeting and stressed how serious this case was proving to be. It could be a matter of life or death for the lauded law school that had survived the Civil War half a century ago.
It was the great war between North and South that had planted Cumberland in the shadows of Harvard and Yale. While the Ivy League schools thrived after the conflict between the states, Cumberland barely limped along. When the war broke out Cumberland faculty members and students were divided in their allegiance.
Several professors left their teaching posts to assume leadership positions in the conflict. Most notable of these men was Gen. A.P. Stewart, who became one of the South’s most respected tacticians.
Even now the division on campus had not been resolved, as many of the students had fathers, uncles and grandfathers who fought on one side or the other. And as for the local boys, they still harbored hard feelings over the thought of Union troops burning of the university’s main building.
After the war Cumberland struggled to attract students. Students from the North had little desire to enroll in the law school because of fear of reprisal, while many students in the South had no money to pay their expenses.
The 1865 law class had only eleven students, one of them an ex-Confederate general and another a former Union colonel.
Confederate Gen. Alexander P. Stewart
In 1866 the school adopted the image of the phoenix, the mythological Egyptian bird that arose from its own ashes along with the mantra “E Cineribus Resurgo” which translates “I rise from the ashes.”
These were tough times indeed for Cumberland, and one more major setback could serve as the final blow.
Time for a decision
Three days passed, and the scheduled football game between Cumberland University and Georgia Tech was three weeks away.
Neither George nor President Hill had been idle. They scrambled for a solution that might satisfy Tech but so far had only come up with goose eggs.
Would Tech accept a second apology? Neither thought that ploy would succeed.
After all this was shaping up to be Heisman’s year. Georgia Tech was contending for the national title. His team’s schedule appeared to be a coach’s dream with the pushovers first, followed by the tougher opponents.
Tech would open the season September 30 playing Mercer. Next was to come Cumberland, followed by Davidson, North Carolina, Washington and Lee, and Tulane. Tech would either make or break their case for the national championship when they closed the final three weeks against the likes of Alabama, Georgia and Auburn.
To snare the coveted position, Heisman and his charges would have to run the board winning every game, thrashing their foes soundly. Sportswriters during the era were more inclined to base their opinions about the strength of college teams on the number of points a team scored against an opponent. That meant that lopsided victories played a major role in determining the national champion. So coaches often mopped up against weaker schools, scoring anywhere from fifty to seventy points against the patsies.
Heisman faced another dilemma. Football teams in the South did not receive the same esteem as those in the Northeast. Sportswriters, mainly ensconced at large metropolitan dailies in the Northeast were prejudiced against the quality of the game in the South.
For Heisman to attract their attention and nominate his team for top honors, he was forced to show no mercy when it came to piling up the points. Cumberland, he figured, was a perfect candidate to play into his hands.
Hill, no slouch, contacted a tribe of legal scholars, all Cumberland graduates, hoping they might find a loophole in the contract that would allow an escape. These men scrutinized the document and came to one conclus
ion: play or pay.
The clock was ticking.
It was noon on Friday, and salvation appeared nowhere in sight.
A last-minute reprieve?
About an hour before the board meeting was to be called to order at two o’clock, George knocked on the president’s door. Hill sat behind his large walnut desk with his hands folded. His countenance appeared to be that of a soldier about to surrender.
George asked for permission to enter.
Hill reluctantly invited him in. He could not imagine that the student could save the day and have a plan as to how they could come up with three thousand dollars.
“What is it?” Hill gruffly asked George. “I don’t have a lot of time. I’ve got to come up with some answers rather quickly.”
“I have an idea. I know it’s asinine but this can work. And I’m sure I can put it together,” George gushed.
Desperate for any way out, Hill urged George to spill it.
“I think we should play the game, he said with an angelic smile.
“How can that be?” the president asked, grasping for the straw before him.
“Let me address the board. Let me tell them how we can pull this off, said George.
Hill nodded affirmatively. He knew that ultimately the burden rested on his shoulders. He should have confirmed that all the schools on this fall’s schedule had been notified of Cumberland’s decision to eliminate football.
“OK, George, here’s how it will go down. I’ll go in first, open the meeting and begin our proceedings. Once we take roll and establish that a quorum is present, I’ll briefly recant the issue, advise trustees that there might be a solution. At that point I will call you in, introduce you and explain your role,” said the man on the hot seat.
Cumberland will play
“Members of the board of trust,” Hill began, “we’re here today considering this predicament due to my own negligence. Georgia Tech apparently will not retreat from its demand that we play a scheduled football game or pay their institution the sum of three thousand dollars.
“You will recall that last spring you voted to halt the school’s football program in an effort to strengthen our beloved institution’s financial profile. You entrusted me with the duties to carry out this decision so as to meet all legal commitments and obligations.
“I confess that I failed to meet your expectation and compromised your trust and confidence in me as president of this University. For my failures I am truly sorrowful and remorseful,” Hill shared.
He then transformed the gloomy atmosphere of the affair by offering a glimmer of hope.
Introducing George to the group of wealthy businessmen, professors, and members of the bar and judiciary, Hill said, “I want to bring to your attention an outstanding young law student who is a gifted leader and who has been a valuable confidant to the service of my office since he first arrived on campus.
“I don’t know how many of you have made the acquaintance of George Allen, but allow me to tell you that, although his grades may not substantiate it, he is one of the brightest students in his law class. He has been invaluable in serving us as a messenger to his fellow students, whether the news be good or bad.
“He performed yeoman’s duty in explaining to his classmates justifying why we took actions, cost-saving measures, in order to preserve Cumberland’s superior academic standing.
“You may recall that last spring he orchestrated in a matter of days a baseball game that involved our students and a large portion of the Lebanon community. That game was George’s idea to show students that our decision to eliminate football was not a death blow to student life on campus. To George’s credit and to the pleasure of those attending that game, our baseball team crushed Georgia Tech 22–0, a squad coached by Tech’s football coach John Heisman.
“Our boys’ win was Tech’s worst defeat of the spring. Ironically, we’re here today to deal with another game involving Georgia Tech, which, if not remedied, could spell doom for this school.
“Gentlemen, George believes he has a cure for our ailing situation. I have asked him to share his intentions.”
The twenty-year-old law student from rural Mississippi took his position behind the speaker’s podium. He gazed around the room taking a moment to mentally organize his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he had one simple statement to make.
“Sirs, on October 7th, the 1916 Cumberland University football team will play Georgia Tech.”
“But how can this be,” the board quizzed in unison, knowing the school had no uniforms or equipment, and, more to the point, no players.
“Trust me,” George urged. “I will make it happen.”
Things to be done
For the first time in his life, the unflappable George Allen found himself facing a marathon list of chores that caused even him to wonder what he had gotten himself into, all for the sake of a letter he forgot to write.
Consumed by his law school studies, the overwhelmed lad knew he had three weeks to organize a football team, scrape up uniforms and equipment, and plan transportation for an unlikely gridiron gang to Atlanta.
At the top of his list of things to do was how to communicate to Georgia Tech that the game would be played.
On Saturday morning, the day after the board meeting, George strolled over to the president’s home. He discovered President Hill sipping a cup of coffee while meandering around the remains of his summer garden.
“So, exactly what is your plan, George?” Hill inquired.
“The plan is still in the making, sir,” replied George, adding that he was not there to discuss how he would produce a team, much less have them prepared to play a powerhouse, but he was seeking wisdom from the president on the best way to notify Tech that Cumberland would be set for the kick-off on the first Saturday in October.
The two talked for a short while and decided to inform the Tech president and its football coach that the Bulldogs would make their word good.
“We don’t want any errors on this. We need to be clear that Cumberland intends to fulfill its contractual obligation and will report to play Georgia Tech as agreed,” Hill said.
Hill told George to concoct the message as succinctly as possible and to send it by Western Union as well as with a letter via the U.S. mail.
George did as he was instructed.
His letter to President Matheson and Coach Heisman simply stated, “Cumberland University, the South’s finest educational institution, will field a football team on October 7, 1916, and be in Atlanta, Georgia, to play Georgia Tech, as provided by contract.”
He closed the letter with four short words that froze a blank stare on Heisman’s face for a full thirty seconds. The declaration? “We plan to win.”
Skullduggery afoot?
Preposterous might describe the first notion that shot through the stunned coach’s brain.
How could a tiny school like Cumberland dream of holding its own on the field with a formidable foe like mighty Tech?
Heisman scratched his chin and shook his head. “They must be crazy,” he thought.
But then again, somehow last spring Heisman recalled, Cumberland, loaded with a bench full of semi-pros, knocked the socks off his ranked baseball squad.
Heisman wondered if this guy George Allen could pull such a miracle a second time.
Heisman also thought back to his disappointment in 1903 when his Clemson team fought Cumberland to an 11–11 tie in the title game for the Southern Intercollegiate Athletic Association football championship. That same year his Clemson Tigers shocked Georgia Tech 73–0, and by next fall he was Tech’s head coach.
His first season at Georgia Tech ended November 24, 1904, on a home field in Atlanta with an 18–0 win over Cumberland. Heisman’s team repeated that feat the next year by the same score.
Heisman’s history
Despite battling him twice on the gridiron and once on the diamond, Cumberland University knew little about John Heisman.
It was t
rue that he was a single-minded, hard-driving football and baseball coach who was consumed with winning. But there was far more to the intelligent and imaginative coach.
John William Heisman was born in Cleveland, Ohio, on October 23, 1869 (two weeks before the first football game was played between Princeton and Rutgers), and died in New York City at age 66 years on October 3, 1936, after a short bout with pneumonia.
The headline of The New York Times obituary said in two stacked lines ‘John W. Heisman, Noted Coach Dies,’ and reported only that he died at home and that his death came “after a brief illness.” On October 6 his body was placed on a train and taken to Rhineland, Wisconsin, where he was laid to rest in his wife’s hometown.
At the time of his death he held the post of physical director at New York’s Downtown Athletic Club. Since 1935 that organization has presented the most prestigious award in college football, the Heisman Trophy, to the college player “whose performance best exhibits the pursuit of excellence with integrity.”
The Heisman Trophy
Though outsized by those playing against him, Heisman, at 5’8" and 158 pounds, got his first taste of college football at age 17 playing a combination of line positions including guard, tackle, center and sometimes end for Brown University in 1887. After two years at Brown, he transferred to the University of Pennsylvania in the fall of 1889, where he played varsity football for three years and earned a degree in law in 1892.
He landed his first head coaching job as the football coach at Oberlin College, a private liberal arts college in Oberlin, Ohio, at age 23 and held that position from 1892 to 1894.
Heisman’s resume also included coaching stints at Buchtel, today the University of Akron (1893–1894); Auburn (1895–1899); Clemson (1900–1903); Georgia Tech (1904–1919); the University of Pennsylvania (1920–1922); Washington and Jefferson College (1923); and Rice (1924–1927).