NO LOSER: Despite a winless season, the world saluted Schwartz. (Photo: Stanford Quad 1948)
Editor’s Note: This story appeared in the November/December 1997 issue as part of a collection of stories celebrating Big Game’s 100th anniversary.
Seldom has losing seemed such a triumph as it did for Stanford in the fall of 1947. It all began the previous spring, with football coach Marchmont “Marchie” Schwartz happily contemplating a roster of talented players as he planned his second postwar season. In 1946, the Stanford team had a 6-3-1 record, including a heady 25-6 demolition of archrival Cal. The outlook for 1947 was auspicious.
Even before the first sign of autumn, however, tragedy struck when two first-stringers died in accidents over the summer. Then two other players signed pro contracts, while two who were eligible to stay on for an extra year decided to graduate.
Instead of dwelling on the team’s ill fortune, the 38-year-old Schwartz told an alumni rally, “I think we can win with the boys we have.” He knew what it meant to give the game his best shot: Twice named All American at Notre Dame and a collegiate Hall of Famer, Schwartz was one of the greatest running backs in football history.
But as if the loss of his players weren't enough, a series of injuries plagued the team from the opening of practice through the first few games. Three first-stringers suffered broken bones. Half a dozen other players were seriously hurt; they were lost for the season or never reached peak form. When the game against hated California arrived, Stanford was 0-8. The Bears were in contention for the Rose Bowl.
Stanford students built their traditional Big Game bonfire higher than usual that year. A California Bear was burned in effigy, fireworks were set off and the songs and yells reflected genuine enthusiasm for what seemed a hopeless cause.
The pregame rally was “so different from what you’d expect,” an alumnus reminisced with me years later, “what with all those depressing losses. But everyone seemed to sense how good it must be making the coach and the players feel.”
During the rally, Schwartz predicted that Stanford would win that 50th Big Game. Everyone regarded it as obligatory bravado, but the coach later told me that he’d really believed it. For one thing, Coach Lynn “Pappy” Waldorf was new at Cal, and Schwartz didn’t think he appreciated the weightiness of the Big Game or how teams rose to the occasion.
Moreover, Schwartz had a secret. A friend had told him about a football scout, Frank Pierson, who had moved to California and still scouted as a hobby. Schwartz arranged for Pierson to see nearly all the California games. “It looked like it was the only way the season could be salvaged,” Schwartz said.
Before the Big Game, Pierson had two sessions with the Stanford squad, explaining every California strategy. “Never in my life have I received a report so thorough and complete,” Schwartz said. “He gave the team a tremendous amount of confidence.”
Armed with this knowledge and fired up by the hoopla, the defiant Stanford 11 lined up before 85,000 spectators at Berkeley. They fell quickly behind, but held Cal to a 14-6 lead at halftime—and then stormed back to dominate play. Two electrifying advances gave Stanford an 18-14 lead with little more than three minutes to go and the desperate Bears back on their own 20-yard line. Shaken Cal fans faced the prospect of an unbelievable upset.
But then Berkeley’s superstar halfback and captain, Jackie Jensen, took a lateral pass from his quarterback, ran to his right, and uncorked a long, diagonal pass across the field to his left. Halfback Paul Keckley, in the clear, ran to catch it, then turned around and sped 80 yards for a touchdown, making the final score 21-18 in favor of Cal.
The Bears had been outplayed by Stanford for 53 of the game's 60 minutes. Coach Waldorf admitted after the game, “The Stanford team deserved victory without a doubt.” He told Schwartz, “Your team had the finest spirit I ever saw anywhere.”
For Schwartz, there was the bittersweet reward of losing gallantly. But he didn’t expect to be treated like a hero. When he finally emerged from the team dressing room, a host of fans drowned him in appreciative cheers and boosted him onto their shoulders in front of the stands. Said a Daily editorial in an understatement: “It’s not so dark in the cellar.”
At the regular football writers’ luncheon in San Francisco two days later, Schwartz received a standing ovation from fellow coaches and the sportswriters. When he rose to speak, his voice broke and he couldn’t get beyond “Thank you.” Later in the meeting, he revealed the secret of his special scout and gave Pierson much credit for the near upset.
A stream of congratulatory telegrams and letters proclaimed the star-crossed team one of the greatest in Stanford history. Marchie Schwartz had fashioned a winless season into a memorable triumph.
The following Tuesday, students converged for a postseason rally. As reported in the Daily, student president Tom Martzloff presented the team with a plaque inscribed: Nine times defeated, they never lost the will to win. And the crowd began the chant that lasted long into the night, “We want Marchie, we want Marchie . . .”
Rice Odell, ’50, an author and journalist in Washington, D.C., worked for the Washington Daily News and the Conservation Foundation.
