The Man Who Built the National Football League: Joe F. Carr

by Chris Willis

  The National Football League knows its place in the gridiron world and the circuit is watching its steps with greatest care. There is no tinkering with players in college as each spoke in the wheel has on deposit a forfeit of $1,000 guarding against this or other violations.

  Stage Blanket Finish

  The class of play this fall was brilliant. Eighteen teams stepped off at the opening gun and they were going strong at the finish. The race for the cham pionship narrowed down to a blanket finish with a half dozen clubs in the running right up until the final lap. Good football packed them in at the gate and, despite inclement weather conditions, several of the clubs were moneymakers while a number of others got an even break on the financial ledger.

  Too much defense. That was one of the main complaints about the professional game in other years. Small scores were the rule and the touchdown thrills were not quite frequent enough to whet the appetite of the fans. But it was different this year. Scores were numerous and in many of the games, good sized total counts were marked up by both elevens. Followers of the post-graduate sport said that the increased scoring was traced directly to the improved offense. Practice makes perfect and the pro gridders drilled more often this past fall than ever before.

  Show Civic Pride

  Civic pride is beginning to cut a figure in professional football. In Wisconsin and Ohio, the followers of the gridiron migrate with the team. This gives the game something of a college spirit which has been lacing in other seasons. When the Bears and Cleveland Bulldogs played in Chicago, Walter Camp, dean of collegiate football, was an interested spectator. Camp has always been on the edge about pro football, but after seeing the former college stars perform, he admitted that the post graduate football appeared to gaining in popularity. The paid gate amounted to over $13,000.

  Making Many Fans

  The post graduate game is making many football fans. Thousands of the sport followers are unable to get into college games for love nor money and these same fans are flocking to the pro contests. If they can't see the stars while in college, they do get a chance to glimpse them while performing on the pro gridiron.15

  The season-ending article also included the annual All-Pro team. Carr had now put an end to the 1924 NFL season and was ready to take a break, but he hoped not a step back. What he was really hoping for was a peaceful Christmas with Josie and the kids; apparently the year before hadn't been so peaceful, as he told a fellow writer at the Ohio State Journal:

  In my opinion this Xmas business is very much overrated, says Joe Carr the other day. You see this tie I got on Joe says, pointing to a string around his neck. Well, he says, that is the most expensive tie I ever bought. It cost me $235.43, he says. It don't look it I says. No he says that it don't, but $235.43, or a little more than a down payment on a Buick is what it cost.

  Last year he says, I loosened up the heart string and the purse strings and went out and did Xmas shopping early and late and I bought a present for all my friends and the whole total was $11.44. Then he says, I gave the wife cart blanch to get what she and the kids wanted. You gave her what I says? That's French for the whole works, Joe says.

  Well, he says, they did plenty shopping, running here and there and buying presents for first this one and then that and the total came to the amount mentioned in the beginning. Well, I thought that at least I would have a fine Xmas, Joe says, and all my friends would remember me as handsomely as I remembered them and when I stole down the steps on Xmas day to see what Peter Rabbitt had left for me I find 42 Xmas cards and this necktie. The most expensive tie in the world, and I'll wear it as long as it stays with me."16

  It was one of the few times Carr showed his sense of humor to the press, and after a year of taking some baby steps forward he needed to relax with his family and close friends. He would need it because the next year and a half would be the most difficult of his career. He would be challenged more than ever mentally, professionally, and physically.

  he Carr family did not have a good start to 1925. John S. Sullivan, the father of Josephine Carr, suffered a heart attack at home on the morning of January 4 and died at the age of seventy. The former superintendent at the Pennsylvania Railroad who brought his family to Columbus twenty years ago had been ill for the past couple of years, but his death still stunned the family. Joe F. Carr was there to comfort his wife, and the couple was glad that they moved into the Sullivan home back in 1923 to be there for just this situation.'

  Josie spent the following days with her mother, while Joe handled the two children, keeping their minds off what had just happened to their grandfather. After the funeral Joe started thinking about scheduling the annual winter meeting of the NFL and set the dates for January 24-25. This time instead of Chicago, the meeting was to be at the Statler Hotel in Cleveland, a location much closer to home. Carr didn't want to make it more difficult on his family, so he chose the two-hour train ride instead of the longer trip to the Windy City. Eighteen teams showed up and heard Carr's opening remarks on the state of the NFL. He reported on the success of several professional teams, telling the owners about the positive stories by the press on the league, including the statements by Walter Camp, and that indicated the league had made progress. After hearing the report the owners again reelected Carr, Dunn, and Storck as the NFL's executive committee 2

  The owners also passed a motion that all three game officials (referee, umpire, and head linesman) were to be appointed by the president. Just another task for President Carr; no problem. After the dinner break the league voted on starting the season on September 20 and closing on December 20-much later than the previous season. The ending date would become a hot issue at the conclusion of the 1925 season.3

  The following morning Carr started the session at 10:45 a.m., and the owners awarded the 1924 pennant to the Cleveland Bulldogs, finally settling the argument of last season. Carr also said in the league minutes that playing any "postseason" games made in agreement between two teams to play for a championship is "positively forbidden and to insure conformity to this resolution the season is extended to December 20 for 1925." Carr wanted to make sure the league, as well as the public and press, knew that his organization had a concrete ending date and they would keep to it.4

  Before ending the meeting, applications for new franchises were received from Providence (Rhode Island), Pottsville (Pennsylvania), Cincinnati, and a new Detroit team that Carr especially wanted for the Motor City. Carr announced that the applications would be acted on by the executive committee in Columbus next month. Before Carr headed home, he was given an assignment by the owners, and this one would change the future of the league. While in Cleveland, Carr had a few small meetings with several of the owners about expanding the league to at least twenty teams, and he wanted to start by placing an NFL franchise in New York City. Seeing the big crowds in Chicago, Frankford (Philly), and Cleveland, Carr saw the future of the sport located in the bigger cities and knew that if the sport was to survive and prosper, he needed to move the game from the struggling small towns to the more populated hubs. The NFL needed to resemble Major League Baseball in this way, and Carr's discussions with owners like George Halas paved the way for him to seek a permanent franchise in the biggest city of them all.

  Halas was on board with this movement from small towns to big cities. "The increased popularity of the sport was producing pro teams in many towns and cities. Membership stabilized between sixteen and eighteen teams, but there was one major lack-a team in New York City. We oldtimers thought this to be a severe hindrance to the development of professional football as a popular sport and as an economic proposition, so in the summer of 1925, we assigned President Carr the task of trying to plug the hole, " Halas later wrote in his autobiography.'

  In between the January meeting and the executive discussion in Columbus the following month, Carr got some much-needed information on how to find the right person in New York to invest in an NFL franchise. He wanted an investor who knew sports, knew how to pr
omote a team in a big city, had connections within the city to get things done, and, finally, wouldn't be afraid to lose money-a large amount of money-especially in the first year or two. Carr's first choice was Billy Gibson, the very successful boxing promoter who was the manager for Gene Tunney (who would win the heavyweight title in 1926) and who invested in the first attempt of a New York franchise back in 1921. He knew Gibson fit all of his criteria for an investor and Carr planned to approach him initially to see what he thought. But first he called Dr. Harry March, an old friend who had a background in the pro game going back to the original Canton-Massillon rivalry.

  Dr. Harry March was born outside of Canton in 1876 and went on to graduate from Mt. Union (Ohio) College and the medical school at George Washington University. He served in the Spanish-American War as a correspondent and as a lieutenant (medical corps) in World War I. He returned to Stark County and became the county coroner as well as the city's biggest football enthusiast. He became the official team doctor for the Canton Bulldogs and Massillon Tigers during the teams' bitter rivalry in 1905-1906, before the gambling scandal took place. Besides continuing his practice, March dabbled in the entertainment field too, putting on plays at Meyers Lake Park Theatre in Canton. With this love for the theater and desire to be closer to Broadway, March moved his wife and one son to New York.6

  March was always interested in putting a professional football team in New York, especially for the football fans who couldn't afford to see a college game in the city. With the likes of Fordham, Columbia, and New York University charging up to five dollars a ticket, and some fans working on Saturday and thus unable to attend college games, March always thought the pro game would go over well in the Big Apple. March also, and maybe more importantly, knew talent. He was very much up on the college game and the talent the universities were turning out.

  Carr knew March from the Canton Bulldogs days back in the Ohio League and could use him if he was going to establish a presence in New York. After setting up a meeting with March and Gibson about his plans for an NFL franchise in New York, Carr then made arrangements for a trip to the biggest city of them all-to find the man he needed to start his vision of making the NFL a big-city league.

  In the middle of May, Carr left Columbus for a three-day conference for the sole purpose of getting an investor for an NFL franchise in New York City. He would keep to his criteria and give the potential buyer one more big incentive to join the league: the owner would have exclusive rights to a franchise in New York, protected by the league's territorial rights rule. After arriving in New York, Carr made plans to meet with Dr. Harry March and then head over with March to the office of Billy Gibson to try to convince the promoter to invest. Carr reiterated to March that he needed a New York franchise to pair with the two Chicago franchises to anchor his league. He knew professional football would be a big-time sport, but if they didn't have a presence in New York, the NFL was never going to be as big as baseball.

  But after arriving at Gibson's office, Carr found that his first choice of an owner wasn't too keen in putting up the money for a professional football team. Despite the fact that New York had just repealed the city's Blue Laws to allow Sunday football, Gibson remembered the failure of 1921 and was very reluctant to invest in a team by himself. He didn't know if the sport would sell in New York, but Gibson thought he had the right man for Carr. While the three men continued to talk, in walked a tall, affable Irishman, with a wide smile, who Carr knew to be a man of integrity and honesty. Tim Mara was visiting Billy Gibson to see if he could get a piece of Gene Tunney, but what he joined was a conversation about a sport he knew very little about, a sport that would change his life forever.

  Timothy James Mara was born on July 29, 1887, in New York City and grew up working as a newspaper boy to help support his widowed mother. He also worked as a theater usher and sold programs at Madison Square Garden, all the while attending grammar school at Public School 14. As a newspaper boy his route ran along Broadway from the old Wan- namaker store up to Union Square.7

  This route happened to be filled with a large number of bookmaking establishments, which grabbed the attention of young Mara. Once he laid a bet on a horse that was being jockeyed by a former newspaper boy; he lost the bet, but was hooked. With this connection Mara started running bets for the bookmakers, and he learned very quickly how to play both sides of the betting action. On his route, some of his customers were bookmakers; others were guests in the east side hotels. The bookmakers often asked him to pick up wagers that had been lost by their customers, and they paid him a 5 percent commission for the service. They also used him to make payoffs, and the pleased winners usually gave him a tip. Either way young Tim Mara would come out with some type of payoff.

  Mara loved the bookmaking lifestyle, which at this time was a legal profession in New York, and dropped out of school at the age of thirteen. His reason for choosing bookmaking was very simple-he would always say, "They lived the best and worked the least." After leaving school, Mara began to take small bets on his own and by the age of sixteen, he had his own clientele. Over time he became one of the most successful bookmakers in the city. But Mara wasn't a gambler; although he would lay a bet down occasionally, he was a bookmaker and he would become a wealthy man doing it.8

  Horse racing would become his staple, with offices at Saratoga Springs, Jamaica, Belmont, and several others racetracks throughout the New York metro region. With his success, Mara appeared regularly in the society columns in the New York papers and rubbed elbows with the likes of the Astor, Vanderbilt, and Belmont families. All of this gave Mara the opportunity to be right in the epicenter of the New York sporting scene, and he became a man everyone knew. He made connections in boxing, horse racing, golf, and baseball, and he always looked for new challenges. "I never passed up the chance to promote anything. Not just because of the profit but for the challenge of promoting something. But you have to remember that New York City was virgin area for a smart promoter. There was money around, and people would buy anything, or at least come to see or hear it," Tim Mara would once say.9

  At this time in 1925, the thirty-seven-year-old Mara was married to Lizette Barclay; had two sons-John V., who everyone called "Jack," and Wellington, who both loved football; had a successful bookmaking business; and had a place on Park Avenue. He didn't quite know what was about to happen the moment he walked into the office of Billy Gibson on that May afternoon. Gibson would make the introductions.

  "Tim, I'd like you to meet Joe Carr. He's president of the National Football League. That's the new professional league, you know." Mara shook hands with the smallish unassuming leader of this organization called the NFL. "And this is Dr. Harry March," continued Gibson, indicating the tall pipe smoker. "The doctor is a New Yorker and is also interested in pro football." The four men sat down.'°

  Carr then revealed his plan. "I've just been trying to interest Billy in investing in a New York franchise for our league. Until we can establish ourselves in a New York franchise for our league, we'll stay small-time. I don't want to sound like a visionary, but I can see the day when pro football will be as big league as big league baseball. What do you say, Billy?"

  "No, I don't really want to buy a football team. But maybe Tim Mara would," said Gibson from behind his desk.

  "What would it cost?" Mara asked.

  "A franchise in our league costs $2,500." Carr explained that the cost included the application fee; the guarantee fee, which guaranteed teams would not sign any players playing college football; and other expenses. Mara paused and then said, "A New York franchise in anything should be worth $2,500, including one for shining shoes. I'll take it."

  Mara put out his hand, and Carr shook hands with the new owner of a New York franchise in the NFL. Previous historians and writers describe how Tim Mara just randomly showed up at Billy Gibson's office and bought an NFL franchise, like they were just giving them out for free. Also, in later years, Tim Mara would play up this scene, stating tha
t he accidently bought the franchise. It was his way of showing how professional football was in the early days, and sometimes he would say that he paid $500 for the franchise. This was simply not true. This wasn't a flyby-the-seat-of-your-pants meeting. This was a meeting that had a purpose and was planned in advance.

  After they shook hands, Mara wrote Carr a check to cover the cost for applying for a franchise, and to make the transaction even stronger, Billy Gibson gave in, agreeing to help as a partner-in-debt. But the team belonged to Mara, who would eventually buy out Gibson a few years later. Tim Mara was now the owner of an NFL franchise in the league's biggest city. There was just one problem: Mara had never seen a pro football game. "I was betting on the city of New York. Sports have always been important in New York, and the franchise was worth that money even if it would have been in a shoe-shining league," Mara said."

  Mara would name his team the New York Football Giants, a name necessary to differentiate between the new, risky venture and the safely established baseball team of the same name. "I don't think I had seen more than two football games in my life, but here I was with a team, and I had to do something," Mara recalled about buying the team. At that point Mara hired Dr. Harry March as team secretary. March became more than secretary, however; he was a player scout, business manager, accountant, ticker seller, general manager, and bill collector. Mara now had the support he needed to run a pro football franchise, despite not knowing what he was getting into. Mara would always give the same quote on how the Giants were founded: "The Giants were founded on a combination of brute strength and ignorance. The players supplied the strength. I supplied the ignorance.""