An homage to an athlete dying young

by Jack Neely

America hadn't even joined the war that started the year before, but Knoxville newspaper readers were awed by the unbelievable body counts in Europe—more than half a million British dead already. Horrified, many were proud we were too sensible to get involved in that ancient feud. But some were quoting philosopher William James' quip that war might be a less-violent alternative to American football.

The Thursday night before they left for Nashville, the Vols hosted a "Jubilee," a very public scrimmage at old Wait Field, the sloping, gravelly gridiron on Cumberland Avenue. UT football was a club sport in 1915, rarely front-page news. In those days, two private schools in Tennessee—Vanderbilt and Sewanee—ruled Southern football. No team had ever beaten both in the same season. No one, that is, until 1914, when these upstarts in the public college in Knoxville did, and then took the Southern championship. The Vols suddenly had fans, literally hundreds of them.

Great things were expected for the 1915 season. By late October, the Vols, led by quarterback Bill May, had a winning season, racking up 303 points in only four wins. The Vols' newest star was Bennett Jared, who'd scored two touchdowns in last Saturday's 101-0 win over Cumberland U. Some called the heavy-browed, earnest-looking young man from Buffalo Valley "Little Jared." Just 20, the substitute halfback was new to the squad, and smallish for a football player, but fast. Jared could run the 100-yard dash in 10 seconds flat.

The University of Louisville's club, crippled by injuries, forfeited a scheduled Vols game. Multiple injuries in a single game were common in those days, when players wore only thin pads, sewn into their shirts, and thin leather headgear that did little to dampen blows.

Vol fans were supremely confident about the Vandy game, the Vols' biggest game of the year; local sportswriters declared it would be the biggest game in the South. Wagering was flagrant, with odds published in the local papers; some bookies were favoring the Vols by 10:7.

It was a "snappy practice session" on Wait Field that evening as the Vols went "through their signals with a rush that augurs ill for Vanderbilt." An addled Sentinel reporter gushed that "bubbles of enthusiasm are as plentiful...as mosquitoes in a willow swamp in September."

The Vols' young coaches, Zora Clevenger and his assistant, Miller Pontius, were less sanguine about their prospects. All Coach Pontius would allow is that "Tennessee is going at top speed now and we will certainly give Vandy a hard battle."

Vanderbilt had just beaten Ole Miss 91-0. Vanderbilt's speedy quarterback, "Rabbit" Curry, was notoriously hard to handle. Only 137 pounds, Curry was incredibly fast. Tackle Josh Cody was huge and tough. Dan McGugin, then the South's winningest coach, was in charge of a team reportedly hungry for revenge for last year's ruinous loss. Georgia Tech's coach, John Heisman—his name not yet associated with any trophy—was paying especially close attention to this game. Heisman predicted a Vanderbilt win.

Hundreds were on hand at the Southern terminal to see the fearless Vol squad board the Memphis Special for Nashville. As the train passed near his hometown, just west of Cookeville, Bennett Jared likely bragged about Buffalo Valley to his teammates.

Preparing for the game in Nashville that Saturday, the Vols got a telegram: "Practically every businessman in Knoxville is awaiting the outcome," it went, "and depending on you to give a creditable account of yourself. You cannot serve your Alma Mater in a more profitable and beneficial manner than by winning this afternoon's game." It was signed the Knoxville Board of Commerce.

Fully 5,000 fans were at Nashville's Dudley Field to witness the struggle in person. Vandy ran onto the field to a loud cheer. As the Vols followed, a couple of them already limping (injured players got to play in those days), their Nashville hosts greeted the visiting Vols with a sportsmanlike "Rah! Rah! Rah!" Tennessee had an estimated 600 fans on hand, 350 of whom had arrived on a special train from Knoxville. They provided a "continuous din of yelling, singing, and applauding."

Meanwhile, back in Knoxville, fans went to the Bijou and paid a silver dime at the door. The theater had a telegraph connection to Nashville; an operator read the ticker-tape to give the audience the play-by-play and mark the action on a big board. Market Square had a similar setup. There would be little to cheer about.

Tennessee won the toss, but Vanderbilt scored early, on a 50-yard run by Rabbit Curry. Most of the first half was a defensive tug of war across the Vanderbilt field. Toward the end of the first half, it was still Vanderbilt 7, Tennessee 0.

Little Jared went in for halfback Bill Emory and assisted in a couple of plays, getting the ball to the 50 yard line. On first down, Jared carried for just a yard.

On the next play, May went back to fake forward pass. Tommy Thomason ran past him as if to take the ball, but instead blocked a Vandy player threatening May from the left. Jared, who'd been to May's left, took the ball and sprinted around to the right as if to make an end run. Vanderbilt closed the gap, though, and Jared chose to punch right though a narrow hole in the center. After he'd gained another yard, Vanderbilt players tackled him and piled on.

The referee called a water break. Everyone in the pile got up except Bennett Jared. His teammates carried out a bench as a stretcher, and loaded him on. He said he couldn't feel anything.

As the fall afternoon darkened and rumors circulated about Jared's condition, UT lost what momentum it had. Vanderbilt won the game of the year, 35-0. The Commodores' last two touchdowns were scored in the dark, invisible to most of the spectators.

More than half of the Vols' players were injured that day. Vol tackle S.D. Bayer claimed that after one sack, the great Rabbit Curry took one furtive glance at the referee, then slugged Bayer in the face. Jim Luck sprained his ankle. Star Graham Vowell broke his and was expected to be out for the season, as were two other players. Bill May was described as "badly battered."

Nashville reporters had a good time describing the carnage. "There were mighty few gents who wore the orange and white who were able to lift themselves...without a twinge of pain shooting through some part of their anatomy," wrote one. Another observed that the Vols were "panting like a lizard and suffering several varieties of torture."

For Jared, one of those varieties would be quadriplegia. When the team learned of his condition, UT canceled their following game with South Carolina and considered killing the rest of its season. But when it looked as if Jared might survive, they resumed their schedule. The Vols played two more games in 1915, but lost both, finishing the season 4-4.

Jared never returned to Knoxville. At his family home in Buffalo Valley, he recovered enough to get into a wheelchair occasionally and use his hands for small tasks. But the following July, he died. Brown Ayres, the 59-year-old president of UT, remarked, "I feel as if I would like never to hear of a football game again."