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Right at him came Birdie Andrews, hat in hand, and when the halfback arrived he bowed and asked him to stop. The runner declined. McMurty was right behind and he also begged the runner to stop. Boggs tried to buttonhole him. Skeeter Wilson, who was as fast as a trolley car, ran along with him for twenty-five yards, pleading with him to listen to reason and consent to be downed. It was no use.
Hamilton Fish , Francis L. Loring , George G. McMurty , Robert L. Gerry , Clifford V. Brokaw , Henry Mortimer Brooks , William Guggenheim , Frank Jay Gould , Frederick Lewisohn , Mrs. Isadore Wormser , Mrs. William Watts Sherman , Vincent Astor , Mrs. At this point begins what prior to 1840 was the farm of Robert Lenox, extending on to what is now Seventy-third Street.
This time he washed the ball carefully and changed his necktie, which had become slightly soiled. The other Kiowa half caught the ball this time; he plowed into our boys so hard that McMurty couldn't get out of the way and was knocked over. Our whole team held up their hands in horror and rushed to his aid. They picked him up, washed his face, rearranged his clothes and powdered his nose.
Andrews specialized in poetry for the Lit magazine and commonly went by the name of Birdie, because of an unfortunate sonnet that he had once written. Andrews wore evening dress, and carried a football in a shawl strap. Then came McMurty and Boggs, sofa-pillow punishers. They roomed together and you could have tied them both up in Ole Skjarsen's belt and had enough of it left for a handle.
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