Showing posts with label Remember the AFL. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Remember the AFL. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

NY Jets #66 - Howard Glenn

Two years ago, I wrote about the late Ernie Barnes #55 - football player and artist - who played briefly for the New York Titans in 1960, a team that he referred to as a "circus of ineptitude." We all know that the Titans were the most ragtag of the new AFL teams. Many Titan players like Ernie Barnes, who had previously played in the NFL, were shocked at how poorly organized the team was. His most severe criticism of the team, however, was related to the death of his teammate and friend on the Titans, Howard Glenn #66, one of the very few players to die as a direct result of events within a specific football game. To read Howard Glenn's story is to know how expendable football players really were back then.

Howard Glenn #66
The photograph to the right is taken from Howard Glenn's last game, the week five away matchup at Jeppesen Stadium against the Houston Oilers on October 9, 1960. Hours later, he was dead.

The official cause was apparently a broken neck, however it's unclear as to whether or not the worst of the damage to his neck was sustained in Houston. The official report suggested that an injury he sustained the week before in Dallas against the Texans was the main cause of his eventual death. Perhaps a hit he took in the Oilers game was the fatal blow, but there are differing opinions among eyewitnesses as to when this hit actually occurred. Yet another player opens up questions of heatstroke.

The confusion itself is a product of many years that have passed since Howard Glenn died and of what little information can be gleaned out of the fledgling league's first year. But it's also obvious how little Howard Glenn's death meant to the business world of football and to the media of 1960. Just consider the magnitude of a player's death in the modern era. Instead, Ernie Barnes insists Howard Glenn died "a lonely death." For his family, it must have been devastating, while many of his teammates were left traumatized by it.  

***

Information on Howard Glenn is sparse. He came from the Pacific Northwest, then played high school football in Louisville, Kentucky and then played at Linfield College in Oregon. He played a season with the CFL Hamilton Tiger-Cats and then joined the Titans in 1960.

One of the things that drew Ernie Barnes to make friends with his teammate Howard Glenn was Glenn's interest in art and drawing. Barnes was already a practiced artist, and the two shared their work with one another; it was an uncommon mutual pursuit in a violent game. Titans defensive back Eddie Bell #25, a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, came to know Howard Glenn as his roommate on the road in Dallas and in Houston, two cities where African-American players like Barnes, Glenn and himself were expected to lodge together, apart from their white teammates. Also, Don Maynard, one of the original Titans who played in Super Bowl III, insists that he knew Glenn when he practiced or perhaps even played for the Giants, as Maynard did, before going to the Titans. 

A little over two weeks before the Titans played the Oilers in Houston, Howard Glenn turned 26 years old. 

***

What exactly happened in the Oilers game, and when it happened, can sometimes seem unclear. One thing that several eyewitnesses mention about that day was the extreme heat. The temperature was somewhere in the 90's with terrible humidity. In his own description of the events that day, Ernie Barnes says that he was so covered in sweat that his pads kept slipping out of position.

In his 2010 article in the Houston Chronicle Jerome Solomon talked with Don Maynard about Howard Glenn's death. Maynard also mentions the pernicious heat that day. He also says that "toward the end of the game, Howard had been complaining about not feeling well." He recalls that a trainer told the him and other players that "too much heat and too much football were to blame" for Glenn's needing to be taken to the locker room. In his article, Solomon says that "Glenn was believed to be injured from a collision with two Oilers just before halftime, (and he) staggered off the field holding on to a teammate," yet Head Coach Sammy Baugh told him to go back in.

Todd Tobias also wrote about Glenn's death at the great Remember the AFL site. Tobias writes that as a guard, Glenn would fill in for players who were in need of a timeout or were injured. He was playing that day for Bob Mischack #67. Tobias says several players remember Glenn complaining of feeling poorly during the game, saying, "I don't think I'm going to make it." 

The question is when he actually began complaining. Tobias writes that Glenn was injured the week before, against the Texans, and was claiming to be in pain even before the Oilers game:

The week before, in Dallas, Glenn had suffered what was considered to be a minor injury that took more than the usual time to revive him.  The following week while practicing in Houston, Glenn had complained of headaches, but everyone figured that it had more to do with the Houston climate than anything else. Still, Glenn was ready to play against the Oilers on Sunday.  Back in these days, if you walked, you played.  No one complained about injury and medical attention was nearly non-existent.

What was the "minor injury" in Dallas? According to several accounts, this was the broken neck that apparently contributed to Glenn's death a week later. This is corroborated in William Ryczek's Crash of the Titans. Ryczek says that after the Dallas injury, and "throughout the next week, although not normally a complainer, (Glenn) was quiet and moody and spoke of frequent headaches." According to Ryczek, the Titans did not use x-rays for gametime injuries. The Dallas injury might have been interpreted at the time as a concussion, but Titans personnel, like many such teams in 1960, would likely have given little attention to it. 

Another note in Tobias' article comes from the now late Dr. James Nicholas, who was not yet the franchise physician. Nicholas says that Howard Glenn had a "history of heat exhaustion." Nicholas did not travel with the team to Houston that week, and he suggests in Tobias' article that he might have been able to prevent Glenn's death knowing what he knew about him.

Tobias also mentions a hit in the Oilers game that took Glenn out, but he says that it came in the third quarter, not just before halftime as both Solomon and Ryczek report. In Andy Piascik's oral history Gridiron Gauntlet: The Men Who Integrated Pro Football, Glenn's roommate Eddie Bell also affirms that Howard "suffered a head and neck injury during the (Oilers') game," but he doesn't say when. 

Ernie Barnes' painting "To Know Defeat"
The most vivid account of the game comes through Ernie Barnes in an article by Sandy Pawde, dated March 17, 1967 in the Sarasota Herald-Tribune. Barnes expresses regret at how, during the game, he and everyone around Glenn urged him to keep playing, to tough it out, even as Glenn kept saying, "I'm sick, I gotta go out." 

Strangely though, Barnes adds the detail that during the game Glenn was emitting a terrible odor from his mouth. "There were flecks of foam in the corners of his mouth, and there was the faint smell...almost like sewage." He says that the smell became so pervasive in the heat that it "made it cling all about us." 

Barnes does not mention the hit that took Glenn out of the game, though he saw Glenn back again in the locker room after the game. Though he does not mention it, according to Ryczek in Crash of the Titans, Glenn also behaved erratically, even belligerently toward everyone in the locker room. Regardless, both mention what happened next. Barnes says Glenn became barely conscious, sitting in a metal chair

"We backed away, looking at his body twitch. He was straining to breathe and that odor was still with him. He still clutched the towel to his chest. 'Why in hell don't you get a doctor to him?' (Art) Powell shouted at the trainer."

Barnes says that Glenn coughed up a "smelly, yellow-green mucus" and was then taken away to a Houston hospital, where he was eventually pronounced dead. At the end of the article, Barnes says the official pronouncement from the hospital that it was "a broken neck suffered in the game with Dallas the week before," but he questions this. In his online biography Barnes insists that he and several of his teammates believed Howard Glenn simply died of heatstroke. 

Again, an Internet-trolling layman can see that Glenn's symptoms also resemble those of heatstroke, but the mystery of the smell surrounding Glenn throughout the game and his condition in the locker room afterwards raises other questions that one can only be answered by actually taking a look at the postmortem report performed on him in Houston. According to Ryczek, the examining physician in Houston said that, despite Glenn's complaints the week leading up to the Houston game, the symptoms of his severe injury were not instantaneous. However, Glenn's neck fracture had gradually cut through his spinal column.

***

Howard Glenn's death haunted Ernie Barnes and his fellow players, particularly his African-American teammates on the club, who found out about the news just after boarding their plane back to New York. Barnes said, "The news shook my heart. He was dead. I felt nervous tremors racing up my spine and tears streaming down my face. Next to me, Art (Powell) covered his face in his hands and turned his head toward the window."

According to Ryczek, the Titans took measures for safety in the wake the tragedy that would today seem rudimentary. X-rays were to be available for every game. Dr. Nicholas was engaged as the permanent physician. But it's clear that Glenn's death was absolutely preventable, even by the standards of the time.

The death of Howard Glenn embittered Ernie Barnes toward the Titans of New York and, increasingly, toward the game of football. Barnes asked to be released from the team two days after Houston. He went on to play in the 60's for San Diego, Denver, and in Canada, and then went on to a very successful career as an artist.


In Ernie Barnes' own obituary in the Los Angeles Times, it's said that Barnes believed that art had the capacity to educate. As an artist, he would return to images of football in his painting again and again, often depicting it as a murderous exercise, as it is in the above work which is also found on the cover of his published collection, Pads to Palette. The players are gladiators who punish one another as a hapless referee and a distant audience of spectators both look on in what looks like a Roman arena.

I was pleased to see that only a few months ago on the Jets' web site fan forum, several fans also mentioned Howard Glenn's death and suggested that the Jets should put him in the Ring of Honor. The Vikings retired Korey Stringer's number when he died in training camp from heatstroke in 2001. The Chiefs retired Stone Johnson's number after he fractured his vertebrae in a preseason game and died 10 days later in 1963. They did the same for Mack Lee Hill, who died from an embolism in the midst of surgery to repair a ligament he damaged in a 1965 game. I don't necessarily see the Jets agreeing to that, but at the very least, Howard Glenn's place in the Ring of Honor would be a reminder that this team has a larger legacy that needs to be commemorated, player by player. 

So I agree with the forum's suggestion. By putting Glenn in the Ring of Honor, the Jets organization would also play some part in acknowledging the enormous risks players endured back in the early days of the AFL, when men took the field for practically nothing, went largely unprotected, and played in near-empty stadiums to little acclaim. Those players are the foundation for multi-billion dollar industry and a modern sport that this country has now adopted as its own.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

NY Jets #55 - Part 2

Mark Brown #55 played linebacker for the New York Jets from 2003-05. Then his career statistics end. Those three seasons, Herman Edwards' last as coach, were difficult for Jets fans because it seemed as if we were always one or two injuries away from ruin, and sometimes ruin was inevitable anyway. Then in 2005, the fragile apparatus finally gave way, and no amount of duct tape could keep it standing any longer. Consecutive losing seasons are difficult, but a 4-12 season after being a game away from the Super Bowl the year before was just too rough on the system. By the Bye, we were done. Brooks Bollinger started nine games at quarterback. Vinny Testaverde, who was 42 in 2005, started four. These were desperate times.

The 2005 season ended at the Meadowlands between the Jets (3-12) and Buffalo Bills (5-10). It was the kind of game that comes up at the end of every season between two clubs whose chances at the playoffs ended at least a month before. They're not the worst of the worst teams that'll have everything to gain in the draft (though the Jets drafted well months later); they're just two teams that'll end with a whimper, hoping to salvage what is often referred to in the locker room as "pride." It's really just an opportunity to clean out your locker. It's an existential crisis - what is the purpose of this? one is compelled to ask. Is anyone really watching? Does anyone care enough to pay attention if I do well? Should I even try? Why?

Mark Brown ending on
a high note.
On New Year's Day, a smattering of cold, loyal, hungover, disenchanted, or maybe just bored faithful came to the game. They came because they had tickets, because they didn't want to mingle at home with relatives over pork chops and apple sauce, because their friends would be there, or unfortunately because they wanted to enjoy the last of the season's as yet unpublicized horrors at Gate D. Watching Fireman Ed do his schtick that day is like watching a kid's clown perform at a wake. The game was mostly decided by the two placekickers, Mike Nugent and Rian Lindell. The Jets limped to one touchdown on offense, yet they won 30-26.

But for one man, there was something eternally meaningful. While the game effectively ended with Justin Miller's kickoff return for a touchdown, Jets linebacker Mark Brown intercepted one of Kelly Holcomb's passes in the second quarter and returned it 33 yards for a touchdown. The image of him in the end zone is forever frozen on the card you see above, and it seems particularly important because it was Brown's last game in the NFL. It gave the Jets a 17-6 lead that they would squander in the third quarter, but Mark Brown can rightly claim that he hit one of his professional highs in one of his very last opportunities. If only life were like that all the time, allowing us these dramatic chances to find meaning in a purposeless existence, then maybe we would try harder. Or maybe we wouldn't try as hard; we would just always wait idly by for our chance to come round. I don't know.

****

Notre Dame used to make quarterbacks. USC used to make running backs. The University of Miami used to make receivers and defensive front lines. Penn State made linebackers. In the 60's the Jets had Ralph Baker #51, but then in the 70's and 80's, the team featured Nittany Lion linebackers like Dennis Onkontz #35, Greg Buttle #51, Lance Mehl #56, and Ron Crosby #55. I wonder if they all simply felt resigned to end up in Flushing. I've come to adopt Penn State a little bit as my local college football team, which means that I follow them when they're undefeated but don't when they're not. Alright, I'm a bandwagoneer. It's painful to watch Joe Paterno trying to coach lately, though, and it's too bad that young people in Happy Valley see him as a dithering old man propped up by coaches and players. At one time, he paced the sideline and gesticulated like a deranged math teacher, complete with pit stains, hard-frame glasses and a pocket protector (one of those is an exaggeration).

Rob Crosby
At the risk of generalizing, defensive lines are formed by men who, like Albert Haynesworth, simply move their mass against the offense. Secondaries are filled with roving, jittery, hectoring guys who must not allow anyone to get behind them, though receivers often manage to. But linebackers make the decision to go forward or back, entering entirely different zones of defense with disparate strategies of playing the game. Rob Crosby did this for the Jets from 1979-83.

In this image at left it looks as though Rob Crosby has suddenly thrust himself into the frame and is now eyeing your lunch. Near as I can tell, this photo was taken at Cleveland Municipal Stadium. This picture might be from the Jets' 17-14 loss to the Browns on December 7, 1980, a bad game in one of the most disappointing of Jets' seasons. It might be from the Jets' 14-13 win over the Browns on December 12th the following year. You can see Municipal's light towers reflected in his helmet. It's obviously cold out, Crosby's got his hand warmer stitched into his jersey, and there's an overcast, wintery afternoon light very like the kind cast at Cleveland Municipal in December. The light within the stadium in winter was always washed gray by persistently overcast skies, while the stands were made darker by Municipal's large overhang. The effect of watching a Browns telecast was such that you'd think the color had gone wonky on your TV. Colorblind players might have felt right at home in Cleveland, though I don't know if Rob Crosby is colorblind.

Like Rob Crosby, the wind-blown, tired-looking linebacker John Ebersole #55 (at right) also went to Penn State and ended up playing eight seasons at linebacker for the Jets, from 1970-77. In his 1977 card, he looks exactly like a man who's witnessed the deep decline of the Jets' franchise in the 70's. "O, woe is me,/To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!" A defensive rating of -7.1 in 1975!

Without many other statistics, it's still worth mentioning that Ebersole made three interceptions in 1974, one of which he apparently took for 41 yards. I've tried looking for it in the vast collection of 1974NFL's Channel without any luck. There is one moment of funny choreography from the Jets' final game of that season, a 45-38 win at Memorial Stadium. Go to 1:26 of the clip, and you see second-year Colts quarterback Bert Jones, who shredded the Jets earlier in the year, overthrowing his man and instead hitting Ralph Baker in the linebackers' no man's land. The ball then jettisons off Baker and high into the air, producing a Maculate Interception: under the ball are three men - Baker, Burgess Owens and John Ebersole. It looks like Ebersole's got it, but then Owens is faster; he gathers it and makes it into the end zone where he is upended by Jones. It's Baker's last game, and it's the last time the Jets will beat the Colts until 1978, when Bert Jones will be out of the picture with injuries.

Today, John Ebersole is listed as the Vice Chairman of the Celebrity Golf Board of Directors. I'm not sure what that means, but he looks like he plays the celebrity golf circuit. This spells hope for all of us, especially in the era where being a celebrity can be permanently defined by anything at all. Perhaps the Chinese are our economic overlords now because our most prescient prophet was Andy Warhol. At least Ebersole's LeeMo Marketing write-up grants him his celebrity status for toughness. "Once played almost an entire game with a separated shoulder and a broken hand," it says. (And a broken hand.) "Also had the dubious honor of leading the NFL in concussions in 1975 and 1976." I don't know why anyone would call that "dubious." I can see "unfortunate" maybe, but not "dubious." I'm just glad to see he's survived his injuries with all his f-a-c-u-l-t-i-e-s intact. Not every player does, as we know.

****

In midseason 1965, linebacker Mike Dukes #55 was traded or released from the Boston Patriots to the New York Jets, perhaps to play alongside Wahoo McDaniel. The statistics show that he suited up for three games, and that is all. Sadly, he was killed in 2008 in a car accident in Beaumont, TX. On his memoriam page, you see him proudly displaying a championship ring from one of the first two AFL Championships in 1960 and '61 by the Houston Oilers, for whom Dukes also played at linebacker. A year before his death, his son Brandonn had written to the great site Remember the AFL and asked if anyone knew where he could acquire a game tape of the 1962 AFL Championship Game between the Dallas Texans and Houston Oilers. It's poignant that he was looking for something he thought would interest his Dad in retirement. I truly hope Brandonn Dukes found what he was looking for in time.