Newspaper Writing and Editing

New Haven, Conn., Nov. 23.—Harvard trampled over Yale with a score of 20 to 0 on Yale field today, when the crimson eleven, taking advantage of Yale’s back field errors, made two touchdowns and two field goals. This victory carries the football championship of the East to Cambridge.

Harvard scored a touchdown and a field goal in both the first and third periods. The first score came when Storer recovered the ball which Wheeler, the Yale quarterback, dropped on being tackled, and sprinted twenty-five yards to the goal line. Hardwick kicked goal. A minute later, another Yale muff gave Brickley his chance to kick the first field goal.

A fumble by Flynn at the opening of[Pg 164] the third period gave the ball to Harvard, and in the scrimmage Brickley dashed eighteen yards for the second touchdown. He caught a Yale forward pass a few minutes later and ran forty-two yards, and, after a few plays, kicked the ball over the cross bar for the second field goal.

At no stage of the game did Yale have a chance to win, and only once did the team have a chance to score. That opportunity came during the fourth period, when they showed a versatility of attack that fairly swept the crimson eleven off their feet and brought the ball in a steady series of rushes over a stretch of sixty yards before it was lost on downs. But the flash came too late, and while it was at its height the most optimistic of the blue supporters could see nothing more than a chance to blot out the ignominy of a scoreless defeat.

What Yale did not do would fill a volume. Failure to catch punts was the great fault, a fault which happened so often that it might be called a habit. Wheeler muffed one in the opening period which paved the way for the first Harvard touchdown; Flynn missed one in the third period and opened the avenue for the other. Between times the ball was dropping from Eli arms so often that it seemed strange when it was caught.

Harvard’s splendidly finished team, good in all around play, worked to its limit a consistent kicking game against a team unable to handle punts. Little effort was made to test the strength of the blue line. The crimson offense was based almost entirely on getting down the field under Felton’s high spiral punts and taking advantage of the slippery fingers of Wheeler and Flynn. When stopped from tackle to tackle, they twice used fake plays with wide end runs for clever gains.

As in all this season’s games, the[Pg 165] brilliancy of Brickley’s running and goal kicking outshone the individual play of his team-mates. Twice he intercepted Yale forward passes, one of which he turned into a run of forty-two yards. The second touchdown was due solely to his speed down the field and to his keen eye in recovering Flynn’s muff, which he converted into a touchdown in the next scrimmage. He scored two out of his four attempts at field goals and missed the other two by a few feet.

Bomeisler, Yale’s star end, although twice taken out of the game because of the old injury to his shoulder, did the most remarkable work seen on Yale field since the days of Tom Shevlin. He was down the field like a race-horse under Lefty Flynn’s punts, and besides tackling with unerring accuracy, he threw himself so hard that the man was forced back considerably from the spot where he caught the ball.

Yale won the toss and chose to defend the north goal, the Crimson facing the sun. Flynn kicked off for Yale. The ball sailed behind the Harvard goal and was taken out to Harvard’s 20-yard line for scrimmage. Felton, on first down, kicked it back to the Yale 20-yard line. Flynn’s short kick drove the ball out of bounds at the Eli 40-yard line. Harvard’s backs then crashed through irresistibly until they reached the 20-yard line. The Yale defense grew compact at her 20-yard line, and two of Wendell’s smashes netted only a yard apiece. On the third down Brickley tried his first drop kick for goal, the ball going outside of the upright. Flynn punted to Harvard’s 40-yard line and Felton immediately returned it to the Yale 20-yard mark. A 15-yard penalty set Yale back to her 5-yard line. Flynn’s beautiful punt was muffed by Gardner at the Harvard 40-yard line, but it was recovered by Hardwick. Felton[Pg 166] punted out of bounds at Yale’s 40-yard line. Twice the Felton-Flynn duel brought exchanges of kicks without gains. The last Felton effort, however, dropped the ball into Wheeler’s lap and he muffed squarely. Storer seized it at the Yale 30-yard line and, aided by splendid interference by O’Brien and Parmenter, tore all the rest of the way for a touchdown. Hardwick kicked the goal. Score: Harvard 6, Yale 0.

Flynn kicked off behind the Harvard goal, and, from the Harvard 20-yard line, Felton immediately returned it. Yale was now in a panic, and Wheeler’s second muff dropped the ball under three sliding Harvard tacklers at the Yale 30-yard line. Yale got in hotter water through a 15-yard penalty, but Wendell’s plunges were held till third down, when Brickley registered Harvard’s second score through a faultless drop-kicked goal from the Yale 30-yard line. Following Felton’s return of Flynn’s kick-off, the first period closed. Score: Harvard 10, Yale 0.

The line-up:

Substitutions: Yale—Cornell, for Wheeler; Dyer, for Cornell; Wheeler, for Dyer; Sheldon, for Bomeisler; Bomeisler, for Sheldon; Sheldon, for Bomeisler; W. Howe, for Sheldon; Carter, for Avery; Talbot, for Gallauer; Pumpelly, for Philbin; Merkle, for Flynn; Baker, for Merkle; Martin, for Pendleton; Reed, for W. Warren.[Pg 167]

Harvard—T. Frothingham, for Storer; Wigglesworth, for Parmenter; Driscoll, for Trumbull; Lawson, for Hitchcock; Hollister, for O’Brien; Bradley, for Gardner; Bradlee, for Hardwick; Lingard, for Brickley; Graustein, for Wendell.

Summary: Score—Harvard 20, Yale 0. Touchdowns—Storer, Brickley. Goals—Hardwick 2. Goals from field—Brickley 2. Referee—W. S. Langford, Trinity. Umpire—D. L. Fultz, Brown. Head Linesman—W. N. Morice, Pennsylvania. Time—15:00 periods.

New York, May 6.—New York took second place from Philadelphia in a 3 to 2 game today notwithstanding that the Quakers hit Mathewson two and a quarter times as hard as the Giants hit Foxen.

Of their four hits New York grouped three in one inning, the sixth, in which they made their three runs; while Philadelphia got three of their nine hits in the eighth with but two runs. There was a shade of difference in the consecutiveness of the bunched hits, and that was where Mathewson was more effective than Foxen. A comparison of the work of the two pitchers, however, from the point of view of adverse runs, shows that there was an error by “Matty” which accounted for one Quaker tally, a wild throw in running down Bates, who soon afterwards scored.

The game was sharply played with a good deal of snappy fielding. Devlin and Knabe were fine on ground balls, each ranging swiftly to the left and gathering up everything within the limit. Doyle in the fifth made a star pickup of a hard ball to his right.[Pg 168]

Poor base running lost the Phillies a run in the fourth. Grant opened up with a hit, Magee sacrificed, and Bransfield hit to Doyle, who fumbled. The ball went through Doyle, and had Grant been watchful and kept right on home, he would have scored. As it was, he hesitated, then started for the plate, and was caught trying to get back to third.

New York’s scoring in the sixth began with Doyle’s liner to center. Murray laid down a bunt and put it where it did the most good. Titus was far out when he dropped Seymour’s fly to let Doyle and Murray move up a base each. Fletcher hit a fine one to right and brought Doyle and Murray home. Seymour scored on Doyle’s fly to Magee.

In the eighth with Foxen out, Philadelphia started off on their two tallies. Titus sent a two-base hit out along the chalk-mark to the south-east. Bates laced a single through the diamond and brought in Titus. Mathewson caught Bates napping, but overthrew the base in the run down and Bates scurried back to first. Grant was thrown out by Mathewson, Magee was passed, and Bransfield singled, letting Bates score. Two were left on bases when Knabe went out, Mathewson to Merkle.

The score:

*Batted for Foxen in the ninth inning.

Runs—Philadelphia—Titus, Bates. New York—Doyle, Murray, Seymour. First base on errors—Philadelphia, 1; New York, 1.[Pg 169] Left on bases—Philadelphia, 8; New York, 5. First base on balls—Off Foxen, 3; off Mathewson, 2. Struck out—By Foxen, 1; by Mathewson, 3. Two base hit—Titus. Sacrifice hit—Magee. Sacrifice fly—Devlin. Stolen base—Fletcher. Balk—Foxen. Umpire in chief—Rigler. Assistant umpire—Emslie. Time—1 hour and 30 minutes.

Mr. and Mrs. William Gideon Hethrington of Trenton, N. J., formerly of Chicago, announce the engagement of their daughter, Marjorie, to Ernest Wilson Swan, son of Mr. and Mrs. Carl J. Swan, of Cleveland.

The engagement is announced of Miss Ida Wellington Winter of St. Paul, to Milton Gilman Wells, son of Col. John Ottway Wells, U. S. A., Military Attaché in Panama, and nephew of Mayor Stephen S. Wells, Military Attaché to the American Embassy in Paris. The announcement was made by Mr. and Mrs. Gordon S. Stanford of St. Paul, aunt and uncle of Miss Winter, at whose home at Leonard Place the wedding will take place some time next month. Mr. Wells was graduated from Princeton in 1906, and is in business in this city. He lives at the Princeton Club, 121 East Twenty-first Street.

Mr. and Mrs. James H. Hayes of Winton, N. Y., announce the marriage of their daughter Helen to Eugene Payson Drown, formerly of Chicago. The wedding took place Wednesday in Brookville, N. Y. Mr. and Mrs. Drown will reside in Brookville.

The marriage of Miss Rose Eldred White, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph White of 230 Wilmington Avenue, to Nathaniel Robert Owen, will take place Monday evening, Dec. 9, at the Hotel Sherman in the presence of the immediate families.

The marriage of Miss Ruth Oswick, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Pemberton Hines Oswick of 511 North Highland avenue, Pembroke Park, to Franklin Isquith, was celebrated last night at 9 o’clock at the First Congregational Church of Pembroke Park, Dr. John Howard Grosvenor performing the ceremony. Mrs. Holton, sister of the bride, was matron of honor. Miss Ina Isquith,[Pg 172] sister of the bridegroom, was maid of honor, and there were six bridesmaids—the Misses Vera Pynch of St. Louis, Bertha Marquis, Ethel High, Marguerite Winton, Doris Hyde, and Edna Stone. Franklin Williams Oswick, brother of the bride, was best man and the ushers were W. W. Collins, Leonard Danzic, Richard De Long, Pembroke Johns, Chester Danzic, and Richard Lewis of Chicago. Elizabeth Reed, cousin of the bride, was flower girl and Burton Davies of Oak Park acted as master of ceremonies. The bridal gown was of ivory charmeuse satin with an overdress of chantilly trimmed with pearls, and the bridal shower bouquet was of lilies of the valley and brides’ roses. The matron of honor wore lavender brocaded satin trimmed with lace and crystals and carried lavender sweet peas. The maid of honor’s gown was of pink embroidered Japanese brocaded silk trimmed with Venetian lace. She carried lavender chrysanthemums. The bridesmaids wore frocks of the different colors of the rainbow. Two were in blue, two in yellow, and two in green. They carried white chrysanthemums. A reception for 500 guests followed at the Colonial Club of Pembroke Park. The decorations were chrysanthemums, smilax and palms. Mr. and Mrs. Isquith will be at home in Los Angeles after Feb. 1.

Mrs. Wilson McHain gave a luncheon yesterday at the Woman’s Athletic Club in honor of Miss Florence Raymond Baugh, who is to be married to Dale Cranford Haynes of Buffalo, N. Y., on Saturday. Covers were laid for six, and the guests were Miss Gertrude Binton, Mrs. Harrison Stanton, Mrs. Arthur G. Nain, and Mrs. Willard S. De Long of Buffalo.

Mr. and Mrs. Donald White McNabey, Markham Place, will give a reception on Thursday from 5 to 7, in honor of their daughter, Miss Dorothy McNabey, who will be presented to society. Following the reception, the young people in the assisting party will be entertained at a supper and informal dance.

The civics and philanthropy class of the Highland Park Culture Club will hold its first meeting of the year this morning at 10 o’clock at the Hotel Van Buren. Mrs. Arthur G. Antwick is chairman.

An ornamental public drinking fountain of marble and granite, bearing arc electric lights at its top, will be erected by the Woman’s Outdoor League and placed in some prominent public place, according to plans arranged at a meeting of the league in the Hamilton Hotel yesterday afternoon. “The league has erected and placed six small public drinking fountains in congested districts of the city,” said Mrs. Franklin Renton, president of the league, “and we will now erect a fountain that will be a credit to the outdoor work of our organization and a beauty spot for the city. As soon as we have determined upon the site where the fountain will be placed we will arrange for proper public ceremonies dedicating it to the city.” During the last year the league has erected a bungalow in the Zoölogical Gardens besides supervising other outdoor work. Officers chosen for 1913 were:

President—Mrs. Dean C. White.

First vice-president—Mrs. Albert D. Halen.[Pg 174]

Second vice-president—Miss Willa Murray.

Secretary—Mrs. Parkins Greene.

Treasurer—Miss Clarice Morgan.

The Social Economics Club met yesterday afternoon at 2 o’clock in the Woman’s Temple. Mrs. John Robins Bell in a paper on “Industrialism” advocated vocational training in the public schools in connection with the regular school course. Miss Viola Harding sang, accompanied by Miss Alice Lanning.

If you’ve ever sat in the enemy’s camp when the Blue eleven lunged its last yard for a touchdown and had your hair ruffled by the roar that swept across the gridiron, you can guess how 1,500 Yale men yelled at the Waldorf last night for Bill Taft of ’78.[Pg 175]

It came all at once, a terrific, ear-jarring crash of cheers that danced the glasses on the table tops and fluttered the big flags around the balconies. They had ceased the pounding chant of “Boola.” The classes from ’53 to ’08 had flung the Brek-a-kek-kek, Ko-ax, Ko-ax from wall to wall, and the orchestra, away up under the roof, had dropped the horns and fiddles from sheer weariness. There was a moment of unexpected quiet.

Suddenly the electric lights died all over the grand ballroom. A searchlight sprayed its rays squarely on a drop curtain which pictured the old Brick Row as it was in the days when President Taft was a freshman. You could see the rail fence, even the initials cut along the boards—“W. H. T.,” “O. T. B.,” “A. T. H.” Tall elms leaned toward the ancient buildings and spread their foliage over the dingy roofs.

The broad band of light moved up and down over the picture, hesitated, then fell squarely on President Taft as he sat with President Arthur Twining Hadley of the university and President James R. Sheffield of the Yale Club. The President’s head was half turned toward the picture of the old Brick Row. He wasn’t smiling.

The yell started, spread all over the room and gathered force as man after man opened the throttle of his lungs and turned on the full power that was in him and roared and thundered until the lights went out again. In the darkness presently the old Brick Row appeared and took form. Soft lights gleamed at the windows of the dormitories. The chapel bell tolled faintly. The cheerful voices of freshmen calling to freshmen were heard very faintly. A shout only less mighty than the salute to the President shook the big room and shortly passed to laughter.[Pg 176]

Somebody started a chant. The Yale graduates took it up by hundreds until 1,500 of them shouted in rhythm:

Oh, Freshman, put out that light!

Oh, Freshman, put out that light!

Oh, Freshman, put out that light!

That was Yale’s greeting to Taft of ’78. The welcome to President William Howard Taft, who happened to have been graduated from Yale and not some other university—Harvard, say, or Princeton—came later, when President Sheffield of the Yale Club and President Hadley sent big words over his head and admitted that the character of the man had something to do with his rise in the world as well as the Yale training.

But there were many moments when the graduates put aside the fact that they were entertaining the President. The old men who were graduated a little before or a little after Mr. Taft and had known him in college gravitated toward the dais by twos and threes, laughing and chuckling and poking each other in the ribs. Mr. Taft was on his feet most of the time.

“Bill, I wonder if you remember this one—” and Tom of ’78 or Jack of ’79 would reel off a story or a joke that hadn’t been released maybe for thirty years. There was the story of the little red hen—but it need not be repeated. Mr. Taft remembered it, that was certain.

And while the handshaking and the reminiscences and the old jokes were keeping Mr. Taft busy on the dais, a cannonading of cheers and songs was fired at him from every table in the room. They sang him “The Old Brick Row” and “Yale Will Win,” and when they had run through these they took up “Boola” again and again until the sweep of its rhythm had drawn the voice of every man in the room, including the President’s.[Pg 177]

It was the biggest dinner ever held in the Waldorf-Astoria, which means perhaps the biggest in New York city. Several years ago the Republican Club entertained Col. Roosevelt at the Waldorf and upward of 1,200 men crammed themselves in to eat and drink and cheer. Last night’s broke all the records. There were exactly 1,448 at the tables and more than 100 who came late were not able to sit down at all. Every square foot of space in the grand ballroom except the narrow lanes for the waiters was occupied. The dinner overflowed into the Astor gallery, where elbow room was desired and denied. There were tables in the hallways and tables set in the two levels of boxes—something that doesn’t happen in a generation.

The stage was set with attention to detail shown by professionals. Besides the big drop curtain behind the head table, which depicted the old Brick Row as it was in Taft’s time, they had strung a section of rail fence in front of the table, a replica of the fence on which Mr. Taft used to whittle his initials. The elms of the picture sent their tops as far outward on the canvas as possible, and then the illusion was carried out cunningly by the greenery that underhung the ceiling. The ballroom floor was the campus of Yale, and the illusion was produced pretty successfully.

All through the smilax and vines of the ceiling were thousands and thousands of pink roses, roses past all counting. There were clusters and pots of them on the table tops, hung from the balconies and draped around swinging incandescents, which glowed pink when the lights were lowered. All of these things were accomplished by Noble F. Hoggson of ’88, who got busy in the banquet room at 2 o’clock yesterday morning after a ball had danced itself out.

A game dinner where the eaters were game,—that was the newsboys’ Christmas feast, provided last night in the Brace Memorial Newsboys’ Lodging House, No. 14 New Chambers street, by William M. Fliess, Jr. The happiness of poverty without responsibility, of boyhood unchecked, of sporting blood untamed, of divine independence, shone from the eyes of those noisy “newsies,” thrilled in their laughter, barked in their shouts. And envy, not pity, stirred the hearts of the men and women who had left comfortable homes, in immaculate attire, to watch the children of the street absorb their little mountains of food.

No separate courses, no cocktails and caviar, no after-dinner speeches were needed to make that dinner palatable, to separate mind from stomach, to create buoyancy of spirits. A big bowl of thick, steaming soup; a plate heaped with turkey, potatoes and mashed turnips; a cupful of smoking coffee and a whole pie, as round as the smiling face of the sun, greeted each separate appetite simultaneously, and caused no gorge to rise. Not a bit of space was wasted on those long, white tables, flanked by their narrow, red benches. Big bunches of celery took the place of inedible decorations, and appealed infinitely more to the artistic souls of the grimy little guests than would flowers or ferns.

All ages from five to twenty were represented, and big boy and infant sat side by side in perfect comradeship, since age counts for little in the[Pg 179] freemasonry of the street. Some pinched, white little faces there were, but not many, to set off by comparison the wind reddened cheeks of most of the throng. None had an overcoat; some were even without jackets, but they all looked warm. One young man of six marched in with a drum, which matched his countenance for expansive roundness and noisy Christmas cheer. He sat down with it strapped to his side, which crowded his neighbor somewhat, but there was no complaint, for not even a “newsy” could entertain the thought of separating him for a moment from such a present.

The feast started at 7 o’clock, but at 8 o’clock there were many places still empty and waiting, for the late “extras” with news of the Johnson-Burns prizefight detained many of the older boys who had important stands. And for the same reason there was little of the organized cheering of former years for the benefactor and for Superintendent Heig, since “Chicago Tom,” “Wise Joe” and other leaders were still selling “papes” at the bridge entrance. But it was a “handout till midnight,” and time enough to “stick on de job” and “get in on de feed,” too.

It was hard, though, on the shivering, shuffling line of beggared outcasts which hugged the Brace Memorial building on three sides, waiting until all the “newsies” had got “theirs.” Here was no Christmas buoyancy, only hopeless patience in wasted faces, in huddled forms, in gnawing hunger which sprang not from red blood. That dim, silent fringe which pressed tight up against the brick walls, as if seeking warmth and sustenance from the contact, expressed the antithesis of the scene within. Emphasis of this was not wanting as groups of boisterous “newsies,” clattering down the stairs[Pg 180] and bursting out of the door, haled different members of the company.

“Hungry, Bill?”

“Wait till next Christmas.”

And the replies, accompanied by wan smiles:

“Say, kid, what dey handin’ out?”

“Are ye leavin’ enough fer us?”

These men were to get what the “newsies” left, and yet not all either, for following them would come the women, the tattered hags of the night. And so the feast, begun in brightness, would end with the saddest chapter of civilization.

The women did not line up. They shrank from the stares of passersby, and waited until the last before crawling forth from their lairs.

Two thousand newsboys and homeless men and women were fed through the generosity of Mr. Fliess, who provides such a feast every Christmas. His father began giving these annual dinners forty-five years ago, and his son is continuing them in his memory. Seven hundred pounds of turkey, three hundred of ham, four barrels of potatoes and four of turnips, fifteen hundred pies and countless gallons of coffee, tea, and soup were the principal items of his provision last night. Two hundred applicants were seated at a time. There was no disorder.

One man, arriving late, when the last dishes were being cleared away, was referred to Mr. Heig.

“Misteer,” he said, “I came from Peekskill, walking all the way, and I am most famished. Can I have something to eat?”

“There is a cup of tea or coffee left, anyway, and a piece of bread. Give it to him,” Mr. Heig said, turning to his assistants.

Presently a plate of steaming turkey and vegetables was placed in front of the man. Mr. Heig said one of the girls helping in the kitchen,[Pg 181] who hadn’t eaten anything since morning, had insisted that her share go to the traveller.

Mr. Heig said the closing of many manufacturing plants in the last year had set thousands of boys adrift. The Newsboys’ Lodging House had become a haven, he said, for all the homeless and friendless lads in the city, and in the last year had sheltered 3,844 different boys.

Just when the afternoon shadows were beginning to lengthen in Trinity churchyard, the snow-hedged paths were filled with children hurrying to the service known as the “Visit to the Manger.” By scores they surged along, bearing banners, until the church doors swallowed them up. It was the day of one of Trinity’s most hallowed customs. Nobody knows exactly when it was instituted, although tradition says that it began during the late Dr. Dix’s incumbency. With the passing years the “Visit to the Manger” has become the recognized prelude to the Sunday School feast and Christmas tree, on the day before Christmas.

In the church long streamers of greens twined the pillars, and here and there gleamed holly; above the rows of heads the banners with their inscriptions trembled. Shrill young voices joined in the carols. Notes of the processional rang clearly.

Once in royal David’s city

Stood a lowly cattle shed,

Where a mother laid her Baby

In a manger for His bed;

Mary was that mother mild,

Jesus Christ her little Child.[Pg 182]

Afterward they sang “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” and when the address had been delivered by the presiding clergyman, the children chanted that other wonderful old carol, “The Snow Lay on the Ground.”

The snow lay on the ground,

The stars shone bright,

When Christ our Lord was born

On Christmas night!

When Christ our Lord was born

On Christmas night!

Then came the “Visit to the Manger.” Long ranks of children were formed in the aisles, and, led by two trumpeters from the Metropolitan Opera House blowing “Waken, Christian Children,” they marched in solemn procession to the vestibule under the spire, right in the main entrance, where the manger was situated.

On a platform, raised so that everybody could see it, was a representation of the Night at Bethlehem. All the characters in that first drama of Christianity were there; the sheep and cattle stood munching straw—or so it seemed. Lighted candles glowed on them, and overhead boomed the great organ, while the children’s voices sang as they looked and marched on:

When all of them—and there must have been three or four hundred—had made the “Visit to the Manger,” and were back in their seats once more, so many orderly rows of Sunday school children, instead of little pilgrims wandering a road far older than that which leads to Canterbury, the service was resumed, and soon came the recessional “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”[Pg 183]

The service over, the congregation, a very much excited array, was marshalled to the parish house in the rear of the church where the great Christmas tree and a gorgeous feast were awaiting them. There were moving pictures, too, that showed the journey of the Wise Men from the East and the Star that guided them.