Although recent de-emphasis and an Ivy League ruling against post-season competition have combined to make the Crimson eleven an unlikely bowl prospect, such was not always the case.

In the fall of 1919 when the University's endowment fund drive was faltering and no Ford Foundation appeared with a $4,510,000 grant, the administration decided that a bowl game to arouse alumni interest would be expedient.

"Where are the missing 22,000?" the Alumni Bulletin had exclaimed in its quest for 100 percent graduate participation. Seward C. Simons '11, a Tournament of Roses official, thought that they were probably out West, so he proposed to pit Harvard vs. Oregon in the Rose Bowl. Simons had come East to ball out his son, arrested for cutting off the pigtails of a girl sitting in front of him at the Harvard-Yale game.

In its eagerness to accept Simon's proposal, the University neglected to ask for a share of the gate receipts and settled for mere expenses. "But we have not the slightest doubt that the trip will bring forth good fruits," the Alumni Bulletin prophesied smugly. "Whatever else may be said of intercollegiate athletic contests, they turn the hearts of the graduates to their Alma Mater."

The graduates could have much to be proud of, for led by All-American half-back Eddie Casey, the 1919 squad had celebrated the Crimson's last undefeated season and has been tied only by Princeton.

Despite fears that the long trek would dull the team's physical edge, already considerably dulled since the season's end, trainer "Pooch" Donovan evolved a highly successful conditioning system.

Every time the train halted at a small town, a horde of black jerseys would descend and startle the natives with a quick signal and passing drill. Between stops, the players would do calisthenics in the aisles, and if the train broke down, they would dash outside to do wind sprints while repairs were being made.

At Omaha, "Mack" Baldridge, 1916 Yale tackle, boarded the train unexpectedly and revealed that Oregon was using underhanded methods. "Oregon is leaving no stone unturned in preparing its team to defeat you," he said. "I know a Yale player who was offered $150 and expenses to pay a visit to Oregon and outline Harvard's style of play in a blackboard talk."

Apparently Oregon believed that Yale would be willing to aid any Harvard opponent, but Baldridge exhorted the Crimson to "Go out there and do your best. Remember that you are representing all the East."

With this mission in mind, the Crimson, led by Eddie Casey's pass catching and Arnie Horween's line plunges, marched 60 yards for a second-period touchdown to overcome a 3-0 deficit. Horween converted to make the score 7 to 3, but Oregon quickly added three more points on a 30-yard drop kick and that concluded the scoring.

In the second half Oregon missed two field goal attempts, but one was so close that the scoreboard keeper recorded a "9" for the Westerners. Otherwise there were no scoring threats until the final minutes when the Crimson drove 79 yards only to have the game end with the ball on the six-inch line. Horween gained 67 of the 79 yards.

The second half was so rough, according to official reports of the game, that many players were "badly used up in the fierceness of the play." Bob Sedwick, Crimson tackle, later said the 30,000 fans in the partisan stands "reminded me of scenes described by Charles Dickens of the French Revolution."

University sources were fairly unanimous in ascribing victory to the "fighting spirit" and superior field generalship of the Crimson, which caglly allowed Oregon to expend its energy near the middle of the field, but as soon as its goal was threatened, summoned enough resources to repulse the Westerners. Oregon rooters, however, claimed their team had decisively outplayed the Easterners and had only lost by a fluke.

Asked if Harvard would return to the Rose Bowl, graduate manager Fred Moore said, "I'm afraid not, We had a marvelous time, but we have broken with tradition and we shall hear of it."