The “blue hour” of boyhood, however, is a brief one.  I was soon engaged in conversation with a little fellow who was sitting beside me and who began discussing the ever-popular subject of football.  He was very inquisitive and wanted to know if I had ever played the game, and if I was going to try for the team.

He told me about the great game Lawrenceville played with the Princeton Varsity the year before, when Lawrenceville scored six points before Princeton realized what they were really up against.  He fascinated me by his graphic description.  There was a glowing account of the playing of Garry Cochran, the great captain of the Lawrenceville team, who had just graduated and gone to Princeton, together with Sport Armstrong, the giant tackle.

These men were sure to live in Lawrenceville’s history if for nothing else than the part they had played in that notable game, although Princeton rallied and won 8 to 6.  It was not long before I learned that my newly-made friend was Billy McGibbon, a member of the Lawrenceville baseball team.

“Just wait until you see Charlie de Saulles and Billy Dibble play behind the line,” he went on; and from that moment I began to be a part of the new life, the threshold of which I was crossing.  Strangely enough the memory of getting settled in my new quarters faded with the eventful moment when the call for candidates came, and I went out with the rest of the boys to try for the team.

Competition was keen and many candidates offered themselves.  I was placed on the scrub team.  One of my first attempts for supremacy was in the early part of the season when I was placed as right guard of the scrub against Perry Wentz, an old star player of the school and absolutely sure of his position.  I recall how on several occasions the first team could not gain as much distance through the second as the men desired, and Wentz, who later on distinguished himself on the Varsity at Princeton and still later as a crack player on Pennsylvania, seemed to have trouble in opening up my position.

Max Rutter, the Lawrenceville captain, with the directness that usually characterizes such officers, called this fact to Wentz’s attention.  Wentz, who probably felt naturally his pride of football fame, became quite angry at Rutter’s remark that he was being outplayed.  He took off his nose-guard, threw it on the ground and left the field.

Rutter moved me over to the first team in Wentz’s place.  That night there was a general upset on the team which was settled amicably, however, and the next day Wentz continued playing in his old place.  The position of guard was given to me on the other side of the line, George Cadwalader being moved out to the position of tackle.  This was the same Cadwalader who subsequently went to Yale and made a great name for himself on the gridiron, in spite of the fact that he remained at New Haven but one year.

It was here at Lawrenceville that this great player made his reputation as a goal kicker, a fame that was enhanced during his football days at Yale.  Max Rutter, the captain of the Lawrenceville team, went to Williams and played on the Varsity, eventually becoming captain there also.  Ned Moffat, nephew of Princeton’s great Alex Moffat, played end rush.