Hobey Baker ’14: A New Sketch of Princeton’s Great Scholar-Athlete

By permission of the Dial Press, the "Weekly" presents portions of an interesting chapter from the interesting book by John Terence McGovern called "Diogenes Dis- covers Us." Mr. McGovern was coauthor of the Carnegie Foundation's famous bulletin on athletics, and after that finger-shaking interlude, he must have turned with relief to the present volume which is all applause. The book is a series of informal biographies tied together with a thread of narrative. The characters in the narrative are Diogenes and Pan. Diogenes, it will be remembered, was so wholehearted in his scepticism regarding human virtue that he came to be known as the very dean of doubters. Mr. McGovern brings him to life again, spirits him across Old Ocean in an airplane and sets him down in modern England and America. By the end of the tour (and the book), Diogenes is a cheery optimist; he thinks the record of performance included in the lives of the men and women he has seen is as fine as any in the history of civilization. As Pan conducts Diogenes about among Americans and Englishmen he shows him many of our famous citizens-people as different from each other as Gil Dobie and Lady Astor, Babe Ruth and Willard Straight, but like each other in their common devotion to the ideal of sportsmanship. This ideal, Mr. Mc- Govern shows, was originated by the Greeks, but received its full development in modern times. The chapter of greatest Princeton interest is concerned with the careers of Quentin Roosevelt of Harvard, John Williams Overton of Yale, and Hobart Baker of Princeton — the Three Musketeers:

THE THREE MUSKETEERS

By this time, Diogenes had unfortunately learned to read. True, there was not much time for reading, but as he and Pan were rushing about, Diogenes would catch a glimpse now and then of the headlines. The unfinished phrases would perplex him and he would ask questions, especially if it happened that Pan could not answer them. He took a childlike satisfaction in asking unanswerable questions, because he could always wind up the interrogations with a "Why?" He enjoyed the enraged silence that invariably ended the discussion.

Hobey Baker as football captain in 1913.

This day he had noticed the expression "The Big Three" in a sporting-extra head- line, and upon the opposite page devoted to drama his eye had caught the title: "The Three Musketeers." He was convinced there must be some connection between the two expressions and he wanted Pan to tell him all about it. Pan was unusually patient in his efforts to put the old fellow straight. The musketeer thing seemed easier to understand, so he went into that first. The Three Musketeers, he explained, were fighting men who existed partially in fact but principally in the brain of a very dark, corpulent French- man who wrote entertaining books. The books were all very well in their way and particularly inspiring to romantic and belligerent youth of all races and castes. They proved that in the days of a certain French king one carried a sword. When one met a stranger on the road one stopped and gracefully saluted this stranger; then one suddenly discovered that this stranger admired the Cardinal more than the King, whereupon one forthwith assassinated the stranger, but in a manner attended by the utmost good humor, polite and merry conversation, and miraculous swordsmanship. The Three Musketeers in the book were companions in the service of the King, and kept themselves fit by thrusting at each other on those rare occasions when it happened there were no soldiers of the Cardinal available for dispatching. The crime of it is, however, that the Musketeers have now become so famous that they have been taken over into the drama, and we find the stage and screen full of them, hiding in clocks or armor until the last moment of the last act when they burst out with the inevitable sword in one hand and the queen's necklace in the other! If anybody else in the cast, in addition to the king and queen, is by that time still alive, he is of course immediately run through, and the play ends to the glory of God and the con- fusion of the Cardinal. And worse still, they even infest our musical comedies and night-clubs, and are one of the reasons why the killing of saxophone and slide trombone players is generally considered to be an act of self-defense.

Diogenes thought at this point that he had heard enough of the Three Musketeers. He wished that Pan would tell him about the "Big Three." If they were not soldiers what were they? Three strikes and out, and triple plays; these had to do with baseball, he knew. Third degrees; third offenses; they had to do with criminals. Well, what about the " Big Three"? No, explained Pan, the Big Three were not baseball players or criminals. They were universities. Not only that, but they were among the oldest and most important of all our institutions of learning. They were named, respectively, Harvard, Yale, and Princeton. Harvard was the eldest and Princeton the youngest of the three. In fact Harvard was the first of all our colleges and the first of our institutions to become entitled to be described as a university. These three were not only old in years of service but they had for so long been closely allied in sports competition, that newspaper writers had come to call them the Big Three. In many things their joint thought and procedure have had an important influence, generally for good, upon the evolution of American sport.

Neither the wisdom nor the habits of the Big Three, Pan explained to Diogenes, have always been perfect, or even beyond reproach. For one thing, they have known each other and associated with each other so long that they feel they simply must quarrel among themselves; as might three impeccably virtuous unmarried sisters who met at stated intervals to compare frocks and exhibit specimens of original efforts in crochet designs. Such quarrels, Pan explained, were not frequent. Years might go by without a flare- up. Then one of the three universities would win an unexpected series of victories in some sport and the fight would be on again. The aggrieved member would separate from the other-meaning a cessation of athletic and social contacts—and for a time press, public, graduates and undergraduates would know all the facts of the dispute-and much more. A little later, the public would for- get what it was all about. Then the press would drop it from the sporting pages. Then a new crop of undergraduates would enter on the scene, who never knew anything about it. And finally the graduates would decide that nothing had ever happened, and peace would be restored until some other one of the three won something four times in a row.

Diogenes thought he could understand much of this, as he had noted how Athens and Sparta and Macedonia would fight with each other to the point of wrack and ruin. But what perplexed him was this reflection: If the universities quarrel as did Louis and the Cardinal, and if the Musketeers of Louis assassinated on sight the Cardinal's guard, it must be most tragic when the young men of the universities meet during a period of strife. And what would happen should the country be attacked by a common enemy while these young men were killing each other off because of some vague grievance?

"Of course what you ask is ridiculous and absurd, Diogenes," said Pan who was a bit irritated by the old man's simplicity. "Outside of those who talk and write with the most exaggerated temper and emotion (and who are the ones who know the least about the facts) , no one takes these quarrels seriously. They are only sad because they do result in a temporary cessation of fine competition be- tween the two universities involved. It is particularly hard on the boys of those particular classes and years which are denied the thrill of traditional contacts. However, since you are forever going back to the subject and citing the examples of the French musketeers, I will show you now the shades of three young American musketeers, each belonging to one of the Big Three, who together faced the common enemy as your young Greeks faced the Persians."

[Here Mr. McGovern describes the careers of the first two musketeers- Roosevelt of Harvard and Overton of Yale.]

THE THIRD MUSKETEER

HOBART [OBART BAKER could not have avoided being conspicuous in any period or in any environment. He was what might be termed a " natural." Un- like Quentin Roosevelt or Johnnie Over- ton he was not handicapped by any physical limitation. He possessed a beautifully proportioned body. He was supple, rhythmic, and graceful of movement. In thought as well as action he was quick, alert and accurate. He was a reader, a thinker, and a scholar. He was scornful of applause and publicity. No amount of public adulation could spoil or influence him. Many considerations of those British and American university- bred young men who have been conspicuous both in scholarship and athletic competition, he must be rated as closely approaching the ideal.

At Princeton he had a brilliant career. In scholarship, he was never below the second group, and in subjects in which he took a particular interest, he was often close to the head of his group. He was a member of the student council and took a keen and able interest in the social life of his class. Although his manner was a bit reticent-he made few advances-he was approachable, helpful and sympathetic. His manner was polite and friendly, except when he was approached answer questions about his athletic achievements. On those occasions he could be, and was, frequently abrupt and difficult.

His athletic achievements at Princeton, however, provide as brilliant pages of accomplishment as may be found in any time or place. As a back on the football team, he was fast, powerful, and quick to seize an opening or to rise to an emergency. Brilliant, steady and tireless would sum him up as a football player.

As an ice-hockey player, Hobey Baker possessed the divine spark. His play was not only technically of the highest order, but in addition it was accompanied with fire and dash which made him the most magnetic single figure of his time before the public.

Amateur hockey, as distinguished from the professionel variety, never has been a great drawing card over any long period of time. But let it be known in the press that Hobey Baker was to play in Madi- son Square Garden and you would find the place jammed with a cheering throng. At those times when he would take the puck and start for the opponent's goal, the word hysteria would be only mildly descriptive of the conduct of the stands. The spectators represented every type of sports' lover. Lines formed early to secure admission while the streets were jammed with limousines. A glance around from the arena would take in adoring school- boys, hockey enthusiasts of all kinds, and a generous contingent of men and women in evening dress. They might all be quiet during a preliminary game, but the moment Hobey Baker appeared upon the ice the air seemed surcharged with electricity and there was an air of suspense and restraint only to be relieved by spontaneous cheering the moment young Baker entered into the play. It was stated repeatedly in the press that Hobey Baker was the most brilliant young hockey player of all time.

Instead of turning his head, this extraordinary outpouring of cheers and praise seemed in a way to irritate the athlete. This was not because of any pose or anti-social emotion. He simply found that it interfered with the transmission of signals on his side and with his ability to hear the coaching given by one of his opponents to the other. His interest was entirely in the game itself.

Once, upon being interviewed, he said: "I wish we could play Yale out in the middle of some lake where we could not hear the stands. In Madison Square Gar- den, I cannot hear when a Yale man calls for the puck."

On another occasion, when a press interviewer wanted information to enable him to write of Baker as a great all- round athlete, the conversation ran something like this:

"Mr. Baker, what do you think I ought to say about you in all four sports?" "You might oblige me if you said nothing about me in any of them," answered Mr. Baker.

The art of aviation was no new thing to Hobey Baker at the time the United States entered the World War. He had learned to fly long before that date. In fact he piloted a plane from Philadelphia to Princeton for the Yale- Princeton football game of 1916. It was therefore the most natural thing in the world for him to volunteer for the air service and to seek action at the front. a

He became attached to the Lafayette Escadrille and was commissioned as captain. His natural poise and coordination of mind and muscle were as conspicuous in the air service as they had been on the football field or on the ice. Moreover, he had the eye of an eagle and his markmanship was so superb that the French bestowed upon him the distinction, Tireur d'élite.

As for leadership, Hobey Baker showed the same inspiring qualities he had exhibited as captain of the Princeton foot- ball and hockey teams. His progress was marked and steady and he speedily was placed in command of a unit comprising twenty-six officers, one hundred and eighty men and twenty-five planes. His leadership and individual efficiency in actual combat were so noteworthy that they continually attracted the attention and approbation of the French. The official descriptive legend attached to his name by the commanding officer was: "Nerve, daring and uncanny skill, " which is not so different, after all, from the expression in the press after a Baker day in a football game or hockey match. It is strange that Hobey Baker should have met his death weeks after the armistice in a casual, practice flight, and yet that is precisely what occurred. No young individual of his time had so captured the admiration of those who worshipped the ideal type of American youth. It seemed altogether fitting that his character and achievements should be memorialized. And in what better form might this be done than in a hockey-rink upon the Princeton campus? Here his memory might be enshrined in a magnificent gothic structure, where would forever be played the game in which he excelled beyond all others, upon ground where he had spent his happiest days and which he loved above all. A formidable project such as this would ordinarily require what is known as a "drive." But little time was required to make possible the completion of the Hobart Baker Memorial Rink at Princeton. Hardly had the announcement of the project been made when subscriptions large and small began to pour in from all parts of the country, from all castes and conditions of men, from young and old, rich and poor, from the students and graduates of all American colleges and universities, and from countless admirers with no college or athletic club affiliation whatever. Princeton University might be Baker and Baker might be Princeton, but this project united that greater public which respected and admired not this young man only, but the qualities of character of which he was so inspiring an example.

“Diogenes, old friend," said Pan, “you possibly do not know what a postage stamp looks like. But if you were to go to some school and opened a schoolboy's geography at the page where the map of France appears, you would find noted the village of Château-Thierry. Then, if you took a postage stamp and placed it over that name, you would cover the three spots where fell in death the three American musketeers . " "I think I see now what you mean, Pan, by the Big Three and the three modern musketeers. The Big Three are parents who have the same kind of children, and in spite of silly and petty quarrels they go on having these children, who are sensible enough to ignore the pettishness of their parents." "Exactly so; each of the three reflected something of the individual spirit of his university, yet in the end it was the same spirit that led them as brothers in arms into the same service and to death in the same undertaking. For each had been well taught that when a great principle is at stake it must be sustained even at the expense of death." And thus Pan finished the narrative of the three American musketeers, and Diogenes questioned him no more that day.

This was originally published in the February 17, 1933 issue of PAW.