From the 1891 Class Record, pp. 101-107.
NINETY-ONE is fortunate in having been the first class since '88 to take part in two bowl fights; and although both were declared drawn battles, the results well sustained her reputation for pluck and endurance. When, as Freshmen, we sat in Chapel and listened to the reading of the honor lists one bright morning in February, 1888, and strained our ears, to learn who would be the happy bowl-man, we had little fear of the consequences of the long-expected fight. We had more than held our own in the corner fights of the preceding Fall, and it was only as a matter of courtesy to 'go that we consented to the useless appointment of a bowl-man who would observe the fight from his safe retreat at Ott's, across the way. And then, too, John McGann was with us; and had we not listened with awe as he threatened to "do" his man in the memorable football game some months before? So it was with light hearts that we hastened down stairs and prepared ourselves, while John gave us our instructions. Forming into a V-shaped mass (McGann carefully shielded behind Sam Colladay), we rushed down the hall, stopped long enough to allow Starr to say good-by to the Sophs collected at the east door, then hurried him out of the grounds, and strolled back to annihilate the bowl. But some of the Sophs objected to so hasty a proceeding, and it required some length of time to convince them of the reasonableness of our purpose. In fact, they insisted that the bowl should remain on the ground, so that they might shed tears into it for having lost their half of the fight. However, -with George Brinton's assistance, we started it toward the gate, and then, that point safely past, determined to try the respective hardness of the bowl and one of Mayor Smith's fire plugs situated conveniently near. For several hours (seemingly) we endeavored to smooth out the raised letters on the top of the plug; but, alas! in vain. They were too hard. The only apparent results were some very fine wood engravings of their forms on the under surface of the bowl. Suddenly the bowl gave out a dismal cry, and a crowd of Meds, rushing to the rescue, found that it had split down the middle. Anxious for the life of the creature, they immediately claimed the patient as one requiring prompt attention, and asked to be allowed to take it to the dissecting-room for examination. In vain we protested that, we would not hurt it again. Nothing could convince them of our sincerity, so we sadly watched them carry it off, bestowing upon them a few parting caresses, with the additional advice to go into town and buy some new hats and coats to replace the wrecks of those left in our possession as souvenirs of the occasion. And thus ended the memorable fight-the last really worthy to be dignified with the name of bowl fight at the University of Pennsylvania.
Our second fight was rather a farce. '92 had long since seen the futility of objecting to what '91 desired, and (if their intentions might be judged by their words) had resolved "to wait and see if they could not have better success with '93." Still, the bowl had materialized, and the Faculty would insist upon giving the Fresh some third honor men to run a risk of being carried down Chestnut Street safely cradled in that bowl. When the time for the fight came, it was found that the lower third honor men had one and all disappeared, preferring to limit their connections with all bowls to the usual supplies of bread and milk at home. At length French was induced to accept the dangerous position. So the Freshmen toddled down the hall toward the expectant band of Sophs, and as they outnumbered considerably their elder brethren, it really looked as if there would be a scrap. Once outside, the struggling mass was met by '91's bowl-guard, and the bowl and bowl-man began to move dangerously near to one another. Beaumont, as a last resort, climbed up into the bowl and lay down in it, thinking that we would mistake him for the real bowl-man, and in the general rejoicing that must of necessity follow, Bro. French might be slipped off unnoticed. But the ruse did not work, and the rash youth was removed decidedly hors de combat. Again the required elements to a successful bowl fight approached; but, as in the previous fight, our Medical friends made their appearance at the critical moment, and carried off the bowl-man to the University Hospital to be nursed back to life, and we were left alone with our bowl. Very much alone, in fact, for '92 would not give us another bowl-man, neither would they stay to injure the bowl. So we placed it in a soft place, and, lying down around it in rows, rendered a few choice selections of song while waiting for the expiration of time. Now and then a Freshman would pluck up enough courage to dig down into the heap and try to find who had the bigger share of the bowl-Kirk or West. At length, the referee had pity on us, and advised us to carry the bowl down Chestnut Street and put it in Bailey's window. Naturally this advice was immediately acted upon. Of course, the fight was decided a draw, on the ground that as we had not put the bowl-man in the bowl before he was carried off, and, as we were not able to manufacture another one in the necessary time, we had lost our part of the fight. So we had to swallow our pride and accept the decision in silence.
The Freshman's first fight is one of those red-letter events which are indelibly stamped on his youthful memory. He can never forget it, any more than he can forget the time that he came out to matriculate, the first time he was sent to the Dean, the first night that he exhibited his dress suit to an admiring family, and many other important events of his childhood.
We were never timid; but when it was whispered in Chapel--a chapel-whisper is very much like a stage-whisper--that the Sophs were going to do us up at 1 o'clock, we-well, we wished that we hadn't come. Batchelor, who had decided to renew the pleasant memories of his Freshman year by taking it over again, cheerfully informed us that 'go would undoubtedly compel us to act as a broom, and Dickson was in favor of postponing the fight until we could consult the Class Constitution on the subject.
How that morning wore on! But 1 o'clock finally came and found us grouped in a corner of the Assembly Room, a trifle pale, but determined to do or die, preferably the former. The Sophomores, in full force, took possession of the opposite corner, and, having given their class yell, came at us singing a son-, the principal burden of which is a question as to what duties a Freshman might perform in a region whose climate is popularly supposed to be warmer than our own.
To our inexperienced minds it was one of the most ferocious charges of history, compared with which Pickett's was as nothing, and the Light Brigade was simply outclassed. But in a minute or two we found that we were not all dead, and were taking care of ourselves in great shape. It was over in a few minutes, and great was our joy when '89 told us that we had beaten. True, we had not come out unscathed. Williams had lost a few handfuls of his flowing locks, Garibaldi Smith's long legs were hopelessly twisted up with each other, and Joe Thomas had fainted because someone had said a "swear-word;" but we were victorious!
For about two weeks we won our corner and hall fights with great regularity, and the climax came on October 16th, 1887, in our Freshman cane rush. In one of the most hotly contested of these rushes that has ever been fought on the campus (every class says, that, but we refer to 'go for the truth of this statement), we won by ten hands to seven-the only class that has won as Freshmen before or since. Frank Dole, as referee, kept order during the fight, and also kept the cane after-ward. He restored order in about an hour, and the cane in about six months. We all distinguished ourselves. on this occasion, but only two of us went down to glory in newspaper reports. Clayton McMichael was not there, and so commissioned Lloyd Griscom and Ned Rowland to write up the rush for the North American. The following day that paper announced that I I All the Freshmen fought well, but their victory was owing principally to the magnificent courage and superhuman strength exhibited by E. K. Rowland and L. C. Griscom. " They had an. edition-de-luxe printed on pink paper and sent a copy to every girl whom they knew, and were prepared for a public reception, which,. owing to some misunderstanding, was never given them.
Our next year's fight was mere "pie" compared with the previous one, and we won the young flag-staff that '92 supplied as. a cane without the slightest trouble-eleven hands to four.
But an account of our fights would be incomplete without the story of our famous " scrap " with '88. The Seniors were sitting in the Assembly Room singing the same profane song, ut supra demonstravimus, when a bright idea struck Top Johnson. Now, as such ideas were like angels' visits with Johnson, we immediately gathered around him to hear what he had to say. He proposed to, rush '88 out into the hall. It was fresh, undoubtedly, but we were very young. We did it, and before the astounded Seniors knew what was -up, they found themselves politely, but firmly, deposited in the hall and kept there. Of course they were furious, and the senioric dignity attempted to sooth its ruffled feelings with scathing editorials and sarcastic paragraphs in The Pennsylvanian, then run by '88; but we didn't hide our diminished heads or die of mortification, as they evidently intended we should.
And then there was the bag-fight with '92 in the second story hall, during which a pane of glass in an empty book-case was broken, causing an Associated Press reporter-evidently from Princeton-to telegraph all over the country that "The valuable Stillé Medical Library narrowly escaped destruction at the hands of an infuriated mob of students." The damage was, of course, paid by '91 from the class treasury, at a great outlay--$1.30
But we are not as pugnacious and belligerent as this enumeration of our battles would seem to show. Of course there are some bloodthirsty men among us, such as Hogg and Lee; but the great majority of us are peaceful, and Alma Mater has not suffered in any way from '91's fights, except to the extent of that $1.30.