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The 1958 Army football team. |
Some squad leaders took every occasion to bombard their plebes with verbal abuse or threats of long hours doing useless tasks, but Jules Weisler, my first regular-year squad leader, educated us on Army football. A solid man with slightly graying temples, he was intimidating that first night during Reorganization Week. I was a new plebe in Company M-2, and I braced in his room before supper formation. |
Departing Minnesota had been a series of tradeoffs for me. My friends warned me that I’d never see good football away from the Big Ten. Braced up in Weisler’s room that first night, he asked me, “What do you know about the Army football team, Mr. Mogan?” |
“Not much, Sir,” was all I could manage. |
Weisler looked me directly in the eyes and asked, “Mr. Mogan, do you know who Mr. Bagdonas is?” |
“No, Sir.” That was the truth. |
He closed to inches in front of me and said, “For your information, Smackhead, last year in the Colgate game, Mr. Bagdonas charged from his position as defensive tackle and took out two offensive linemen across from him. Then he knocked down a linebacker, took the ball away from their quarterback, and ran 20 yards for a touchdown.” |
At that point, a newspaper hovering over a desk on the far side of the room dropped, revealing the meanest human form I’d seen up to that moment in my life. The face fleetingly reminded me of a bestial comic book character, the Heap, but he was smiling and quickly demonstrated speech capability, “Yeah, . . . and I didn’t even break my stride!” |
“What do you think of that, Mr. Mogan?” asked Weisler. |
I groped for a comment, but Weisler continued, “That means Army is going to have a great season this year. You better be able to give me a personal, eyeball report on each and every game. Got that?” |
“Yes, Sir!” It was crisp and final, but Weisler wasn’t finished. |
“When you arrive for Monday morning calls, just start your football report. Don’t wait to be invited. Got it?” |
Bagdonas was a great guy and the first member of the Army football team I’d met. I soon came into contact with more of Coach Red Blaik’s team. Bill Carpenter, Leroy Green, and others breezed past me as I braced against the halls of Company M-2’s barracks, the 48th, 49th, and 50th Divisions. In my 48th division, L-2 had some rooms, and I soon became familiar with Bob Anderson’s usually smiling face. The role these men played in the 1958 Army football season shaped my whole attitude toward the Military Academy. |
One day our intramural track team was running to Shea Stadium when we were stopped by the varsity football team, jogging to their practice field across the Plain from the Commandant’s house. Many of the cadets from my company were in that thundering herd. Bill Carpenter, Al Vanderbush, and Leroy Green stood out. I noticed Anderson, an All-American halfback with an unusual running style. He floated over the ground, only lightly planting his feet and never pushing his lower legs out in front of him, minimizing the time his knees might be extended. Brigade Commander and Football Captain Pete Dawkins, the King of the Beasts during our first months, was in the group. There were more I recognized from M-2 but lacked names to put with the faces. |
Stern Don Usry, the tight end from L-2 who lived downstairs from us, nodded as he jogged past. The team’s cleats clattered away from us, but we remained in place as stone-faced Blaik and his coaching staff jogged past. On days when I had no intramurals, Weisler urged me to the practice field to see the Army team drill. Near the close of practice, Coach Blaik stood behind his quarterback, Joe Caldwell, and watched his offense snap through play after play. One day, canvas curtains were drawn fully around the practice field, and the MPs kept us out. The following Saturday, I took a seat in Michie Stadium, eager to see the final pre-season event, a full contact scrimmage with Syracuse. |
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