MAROONED BY THE NFL
Marooned by the NFL
The Champions from Coal Country
by Ron Johnson
In the sweltering late summer of any given year, frenzied and potentially delusional NFL fans wake up thinking this might just be their year. Inside the generally hospitable confines of establishments like Jimmy’s Famous Seafood in Baltimore, Chickie’s and Pete’s in Philly and Bobby Hebert’s Cajun Cannon just outside New Orleans, you might even hear someone yell, “Super Bowl!” The story lines and scenarios spun by NFL fans are too numerous, and often too ludicrous, to follow.
In 1925, however, not a single hewer, pitman or digger in the rugged coal country of southeastern Pennsylvania was delirious enough to believe the Pottsville Maroons, just months out of a semi-pro B-League, would play well enough to win the National Football League Championship. But that’s exactly what they did.
The Maroons officially entered the National Football League in September of that year when Dr. John “Doc” Striegel, a local surgeon thought to be a bit on the eccentric side, paid a $500 franchise fee and a $1200 cash guarantee on behalf of the upstart crew from Pennsylvania’s hard coal country to join the league of 20 teams.
The Maroons were on something of a hot streak, having won the title the previous year in the Anthracite League. As if you couldn’t guess from the name, it was essentially a coal miner’s alliance, and the Maroons captured the 1924 title in their one and only year as members.
From 1920-23, even before competing in the Anthracite League, they had been an independent franchise called the Pottsville Eleven. Pottsville was something more than a wide spot in the road, but not much more. It was a town of roughly 20,000 people, many of whom were involved in coal mining after a significant coal seam was discovered there in 1790. King Charles II granted the land that would become Pottsville to William Penn. The town was named after John Pott, who had an anthracite forge there in 1795. Later, in 1829, D.G. Yuengling opened what many people consider to be the oldest brewery in the United States, in Pottsville. So, when you are hoisting a Yuengling Lager on game day, the can or bottle you are drinking from will still list “Pottsville, PA” as the city of origin. And while anthracite coal fell out of favor after World War II, Yuengling is still the beer that makes Pottsville semi-famous.
Modern Pottsville is not an unpleasant place — even charming in an old-school kind of way. Like many aging coal mining towns, there are signs of decline, but Pottsville still has a busy main street with businesses, retail stores and small hoagie shops churning out cheesesteaks, “wit or wittout.” There is little crime. Families thrive. The Yuengling Brewery sits on the side of a hill and continues to be one of the little city’s focal points. And, posted right in the middle of the central business district, is a historical marker that tells the story of the beloved Maroons of the National Football League.
The Maroons got their name in 1924 when Doc Striegel asked Joe Zacko, a local sporting goods store owner, to supply 24 uniforms to upgrade the team’s look. When the order form asked what color he wanted the suits to be, the box was not populated. So, when the outfits arrived in maroon, the team had its name. No Miners, Rocks, Mountaineers, Brewers or anything else — they were the Pottsville Maroons.
Coming off the 1924 Anthracite League Championship, Dick Rauch, the player/coach, knew he had a diverse mixture of skilled players and rugged brawlers on his squad — a combination of good college performers and tough coal miners. But were they good enough to compete at the top tier of football? After all, this was the NFL, even if it was an embryonic NFL.
Many of the Maroon players were locals themselves and typically had second jobs. Some pushed heavy coal carts, others were surveyors or land men for coal companies. Some had professional careers in engineering and dentistry.
Coach Rauch was no joke. Besides being a football player and coach, the Penn State graduate was a noted ornithologist, an electrician, a steelworker and a graduate engineer. He spent his off seasons studying the nesting habits of various birds. He was an accomplished poet and later explored the Antarctic for the U.S. government, studying our frozen feathered friends at the bottom of the world. On the gridiron, he was the first professional football coach to institute daily practices and is credited with inventing the screen pass.
In the early days of the NFL, the building of a team roster was an informal process. Players were often selected from a pool of free agents, mostly on a regional basis, and from colleges close to the team’s base of operation. The wealthier teams could cast a somewhat wider net. There was no formal way of procuring players until 1936, when Philadelphia Eagles owner Bert Bell suggested, and the league unanimously accepted, a method that would become the NFL draft.
In the league’s inaugural draft, the University of Chicago’s Jay Berwanger, the Heisman Trophy winner, was the first pick, chosen by Bell’s Eagles. Instead of playing for Philadelphia, Berwanger opted out, choosing a more stable and safer career — he became a foam rubber salesman.
In their initial NFL season, the Maroons suited up Tony Latone, nicknamed the “Human Howitzer,” a bona fide star of the era. The Chicago Bears’ Red Grange, the “Galloping Ghost,” said of Latone, “For my money, he was the most football player I have ever seen.”
Latone, a player of Lithuanian descent, did not attend college and had worked in the nearby Pennsylvania coal mines beginning at age 11. He later said he was paid $125 for daytime games and $75 for night games, more than he made hauling coal by the ton. Many people regarded him as the most productive rusher during the decade of the ’20s. Bears owner George Halas once commented, “If Latone had gone to college and played college ball, he would certainly have been one of the greatest pro players of all time.”
Charlie Berry, an All-American at Lafayette College, an hour’s drive from Pottsville, played end for the Maroons and led the league in scoring on his way to being named All-Pro. Berry also caught for three major league baseball teams and was an umpire in Major League Baseball’s American League, as well as a head linesman in the NFL for more than 20 years, officiating 12 NFL championship games. In Major League Baseball, he umpired five complete World Series and five All Star Games. In fact, Berry umpired the World Series, officiated an NFL game and worked the College All-Star Game (a long defunct exhibition between college stars and the NFL champions), all in one year. He was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame in 1980.
Walter French, a West Point grad who had a .303 lifetime batting average with Connie Mack’s world champion Philadelphia Athletics, was a late addition to the backfield for the Maroons and averaged 5.4 yards per carry during the 1925 season. Because of his mobility, French was the perfect complement for the bone-breaking Latone. After his dual careers in football and baseball were over in 1936, French returned to the U.S. Military Academy to coach baseball from 1937-1942. He was a Reserve officer in the Army and after World War II went on active duty with the U.S. Air Force, retiring as a lieutenant colonel.
It was clear Rauch had more than a random band of misfits.
The Maroons were covered by the Pottsville Republican’s young reporter John Henry O’Hara, who would become a star in his own right, later joining the staff of The New Yorker and writing Butterfield 8 and Appointment in Samarra. When they took the field in Minersville Park, a 5,000-seat facility comparable to a modern-day high school stadium, most fans expected their spirited entrance — fueled by the brass of the local high school band — would be the only highlight of their NFL debut. They opened with what was essentially an exhibition game against a team from a Philly suburban neighborhood, Colwin-Darby, and won it, 48-0.
A week later, the time came for the NFL schedule to start, and there was a noticeable buzz about town. Maroons games were suddenly big events, and as one local put it, “They had taken on the significance of a heavyweight fight.” It was not unusual for Pottsville to draw 10,000 ecstatic fans, half the town’s population and double the capacity of Minersville Park.
The Maroons started their NFL slate with a resounding 28-0 victory over Buffalo, before dropping a sloppy and uninspired 6-0 decision to Providence in their second outing. It was not lost on coach Rauch that the team was one-dimensional and predictable. After adding the elusive French to the roster, Pottsville then shut out its next four opponents. They went into the game with the Frankford Yellow Jackets (forerunners to the Philadelphia Eagles) with a strong 5-1 record but lost ignobly to their natural rival from 100 miles south, 20-0. Rauch rallied his troops and the Maroons won their next seven games, including a 31-0 victory over Curley Lambeau’s legendary Green Bay Packers. During that run, they stunned the Yellow Jackets in a rematch, 49-0.
When the regular season ended, the teams with the two best records had not crossed paths. Realizing money had been left on the table, the arrogant and over-confident Chicago Cardinals challenged the Maroons to a season finale, which was immediately billed by the media as the league championship game. The Cardinals never dreamed they could lose. A throng of fans from eastern Pennsylvania accompanied the team to Chicago while others watched the progress on cardboard cut-outs parading across the stage in a Pottsville theater. The Chicago Tribune wrote, “In the face of a driving attack by the Eastern eleven, the Cardinals curled up and were smeared in the snow on the gridiron of Comiskey Park yesterday, 21-7.” The Maroons got off the train in Pottsville and were greeted by a large contingent of celebrating fans. The impossible had happened, and some members of the league apparently didn’t take it well.
As the coal dust cleared, Pottsville finished the league season 10-2-0, the NFL’s best record. As they celebrated their championship with two meaningless exhibition games to end the season (both of which they won), the word got around Pottsville that something was brewing — not at Yuengling but in the dusty NFL offices in Columbus, Ohio.
Playing with the Best author Lenny Wagner writes, “In November of 1925, after the game the Maroons had lost to the Frankford Yellow Jackets, a Philadelphia promoter by the name of Frank Schumann approached the teams proposing that the top NFL team play a post-season exhibition game against the Notre Dame All-Stars, which were led by the famous backfield known as the Four Horsemen. Presumably, the game would be played in Philadelphia. Both owners signed on for the game. Sheppard H. Royle, president of the Frankford franchise, assuming that the team to play Notre Dame would be his Yellow Jackets, never raised the issue of territory, or anything else. However, on November 29th, the Maroons turned the tables on Frankfort, pummeling them 49-0. After the Maroons beat the Cardinals the following week, in a post-season game arranged by the Chicago team, by a score of 21-7, they were declared the NFL champions and were in line to play Notre Dame at Shibe Park in Philadelphia. It was at that point that Royle made a protest to the league, which was backed by then-commissioner Joe Carr, and the other owners.”
What would happen following the Notre Dame game would be devastating to the Maroons and their faithful. The All-Stars comprised the bulk of Norwegian-born coach Knute Rockne’s unbeaten ’24 team famously nicknamed the “Four Horsemen and the Seven Mules,” considered by some to be the greatest college team ever assembled. The game was to be played at Shibe Park, later named Connie Mack Stadium, home of the Phillies and Athletics, and the birthplace of Philly’s legendary penchant for booing.
But there were few boos on that day. The exhibition was expected to draw a large crowd of more than 10,000, which it did. The Maroons won the game 9-6, behind former Penn State fullback, Barney Wentz, and an opportunistic defense. Charlie Berry kicked a field goal to give the Maroons a lead they never relinquished. The victory, along with exhibition wins over Colwyn-Darby and the Atlantic City Roses, made the Maroons overall season record 13-2-0.
Things came apart rather quickly after the Notre Dame game when the commissioner of the league, Joe Carr, a former sportswriter who some later called “the Father of Professional Football,” ruled that Pottsville had never gotten permission to play the game in Philly and was infringing on Frankford’s territorial rights, essentially playing an unauthorized exhibition game, even though there was no clear prohibition in any franchise agreement. Carr not only stripped away the NFL title and awarded it to the Chicago Cardinals, but also suspended the Maroons from the league entirely and fined them $500. In any event, the Chicago-St. Louis-Arizona Cardinals have the trophy in their case. And no number of protests, political maneuvers or prods have been able to pry it loose.
Some people believe the Cardinals — the oldest team in professional football, founded in 1898 — to this day carry a curse related to their stolen championship, but there are lots of takes on the subject.
“It’s just not right,” said Steelers owner Dan Rooney. “When you are talking about the birthplace of professional football, you are talking about Pennsylvania, you’re talking about the Maroons.”
Red Grange, one of the greatest players of all time, said, “The Pottsville Maroons were the most ferocious and respected players I ever faced. You know, I always thought the Maroons won the NFL championship in 1925. They were robbed.” He promoted the Maroon’s championship throughout his life.
The Maroons never got their day in court, much less a judgment in their favor. And the court of public opinion in a small coal mining town didn’t matter all that much to the elitist big city power brokers of the NFL.
Despite their championship run in 1925, and a respectable 1926 season, the Maroons never again amounted to much. Players moved on, and opposing teams got stronger. They relocated to Boston in 1929 and became the Boston Bulldogs before Depression-related financial pressure forced them out of business at the end of that season. In Boston, they played their games at Braves Field, where Warren Spahn started his career and Babe Ruth ended his. The Boston Bulldogs were the first of several franchises that attempted to set up shop in Boston, without success. Not until the Boston/New England Patriots pitched their tent in 1960 did a professional football team establish itself in New England.
According to his great niece, the Maroons’ colorful owner, Doc Striegel, died in 1969 in the bar of the Flamingo Hotel in Philadelphia, on his feet, pouring himself a drink. He was one day shy of his 84th birthday. Minersville Park is long gone with the King’s Village Shopping Center sitting on its former site along Route 901.
In 1925, the NFL was ruled by a czar in a small office in Ohio, influenced by powerful team owners. There was no way a bunch of coal miners from Pottsville was going to put an NFL Championship trophy in their building, if they even had a building.
The Maroons’ title was lost on a shaky technicality in what would become the biggest and most powerful league in one of the most popular sports on the planet. There were no controversial plays. No clandestine activities. No deflated balls. No ineligible players. It was more about money, greed and elitism.
The NFL may have given the trophy to Chicago — and the cursed and hapless Cardinals will likely never give it up — but as far as the city of Pottsville is concerned, the Maroons are still champions. Their beloved team won the 1925 NFL Championship on the field by virtue of having the best record in the National Football League. That much cannot be disputed and can never be taken away.