By Morris and Lynn Walker
Clips In Time columnists | Posted: Saturday, November 29, 2008 12:00 am
Editor's note: Morris and Lynn Walker are working to make "Stories & Legends, from the Heart of the Valley," a documentary film about Corvallis' first 150 years. Each Saturday, they share tidbits from Corvallis that they've uncovered during their work. You can contact the Walkers at heartofthevalley@yahoo.com.
The first year of football for Oregon Agricultural College was 1893. The game back then was rough and tumble, with practically no holds barred.
It was a whole different world, but those college boys fought every bit as hard then as now, in circumstances that presented challenges long gone.
The playing field looked like a giant mudhole, usually separated from the fans by a temporary wire fence, which always came right down. It didn't stop those faithful fans from having tailgate parties. Actually, they more likely had buckboard parties. No pickup trucks, no bleachers, no seats, no kidding. No helmets, no padding, no forward passes. The game often ended up looking more like mud wrestling than football.
On one memorable play from those early years, all 22 players ended up jumping into the deepest, sloppiest quagmire on the field in search of a fumble. The field was in front of Education Hall at that time. There was no turf, just mud. When the whistle blew, the players pulled themselves, one at a time, out of the mess of mud-soaked bodies. They were all so covered with sludge that you could not tell one team from another. And as they rose out of the mire, one by one, it seemed the ball had been lost in the sump. Finally it looked as if they were all up. And the only thing left was a huge muddy hole. But one more player began to pull himself out of the mess; it almost seemed as if he was rising from underneath the slime. First his back, then up to his knees and finally rising with both arms wrapped tightly around his chest, clinging to the ball.
But which team did he belong to? It was one of our boys, and the crowd went nuts, with cheerleaders dancing about on the field. Well, actually, there were no cheerleaders back then, but OAC's first cheer was "Zip Boom Bee, Zip Boom Bee, OA, OA, OAC!"
Another classic cheer that really let people know that they were dealing with an agricultural college was "Hayseed, Strawseed, Pumpkins! Squash! Will we skin 'em? Yes, by gosh!"
Words like "Gosh" and "Gee" were as close to expletives as could be repeated in public in those days. The language sometimes shocked the old-timers.
Years went by, and the team from Oregon State College picked up a new rival: The University of Oregon Ducks. In 1941, the Beavers defeated the Ducks and earned the right to go to the Rose Bowl. But shortly thereafter, on Dec. 7, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and the nation was at war. No more large outdoor events could be held on the West Coast for fear of attacks from the Japanese. So Oregon State's Rose Bowl opponent, Duke University, offered its stadium in Durham, N.C. for the game.
The odds were stacked against the Beavers. Duke was a powerhouse playing at home. But the Beavers climbed on a train, promised to beat the Blue Devils and headed to the game. The heavily favored Duke team lost, 20-16, on that rainy January day in 1942. The Beavers won their first Rose Bowl appearance, a game that became known as the "displaced Rose Bowl." OSU has appeared just two other times in the Rose Bowl since then - in 1957 against Iowa and 1965 against Michigan. They lost both times.
Oh yes, here's "one for the record books": Our team actually was called the Hayseeds when it faced off for the first time in 1895 against one of the team's rivals, Albany College. (Albany College eventually moved to Portland and became Lewis and Clark College.) It was a grueling, mud-slinging, brain-bashing competition, but our boys set a precedent: We beat Albany 64-0 in that game. Go Beavers!