100 Years Ago, They Became 'The Four Horsemen'

It's been a century since the famous tilt between Notre Dame and Army went down at the Polo Grounds

BY AARON HELMAN // POSTED OCTOBER 18, 2024

October 18, 1924.

South Benders, Golden Domers, and West Pointers had the date circled on their calendars from the moment the contest was announced. The men of Notre Dame had gotten the best of the early rivalry, winning seven of their first ten contests against the Black Knights since the series began in 1913.

The game had become a ritual and a spectacle, growing beyond anything that either college campus could contain. The 1923 version had been played at Ebbets Field. In 1924, they'd meet at the Polo Grounds, where by the middle of October, a distinct autumn chill had staked its claim.

The teams stepped onto that field sporting identical 2-0 records, neither having given up a point on the young season. Between the two of them, they'd outscored their opponents 111-0. Irresistible force versus immovable object, it might have seemed that something had to give, but then maybe not. Two years prior, the matchup had ended in a scoreless tie.

This was the game that would immortalize Notre Dame's legendary backfield as 'The Four Horsemen', but you might be surprised to learn that none of those four started the contest. Coach Knute Rockne employed a novel strategy during that 1924 season, one that would catch on in variations during the next 15 years.

Rockne liked to start the game with his “shock troops” on the field, a specially selected group of reserves who were bigger and stronger than the regulars, but probably several steps slower. The shock troops would beat on the other team's starters and wear them down as much as possible. By the time the regulars took the field, they'd run their fresh and fast legs up against a tired defense.

At the Polo Grounds, the strategy worked flawlessly. Notre Dame's shock troops bent without breaking for the entire first quarter. Army outgained the Catholics but failed to put any points on the board. When the regulars - including the Horsemen - came onto the field, they ran all over the tired Cadets, marching the length of the field for a touchdown early in the second quarter.

Notre Dame added another touchdown after the half, but they missed the extra point. A pair of long drives would be stymied deep in Army territory for the duration of the half, sticking the Blue and Gold at 13 points. It would be enough. Army could only manage one touchdown, and Notre Dame's margin held up. They'd beaten the Knights 13-7.

It had been a good game for Notre Dame's backfield. Two of its Horsemen rushed for more than 100 yards. A third ran for 60.

Of course, they weren't the Horsemen yet. That legend hadn't been born yet, but it was about to be.

In the aftermath of the contest, New York columnist Grantland Rice published most famous lede in the history of sportswriting. It's literature disguised as journalism, poetry disguised as reporting, clickbait in all of the best ways before that last one was ever a word. It still gives you chills:

Outlined against a blue, gray October sky the Four Horsemen rode again.

Those Horsemen were the members of Notre Dame's legendary backfield: Harry Stuhldreher at quarterback, Don Miller at rightback, Jim Crowley at leftback, and Elmer Layden at fullback. A week later each of the four would score at least one touchdown against Nebraska. In the weeks to come, they'd be photographed on horseback and become nationally famous. All four would be inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame.

But the lore of the Four Horsemen was not universally told throughout South Bend, and half of the city was awful late to get the memo.

Long before the 1920s, the South Bend Tribune had secured an exclusive syndication deal with the Associated Press, running national stories and commentaries written by a star-studded collection of writers including Ring Lardner and Will Rogers. The Tribune's rival paper, the South Bend News-Times, had a contract with the less impressive United Press International.

It was the Associated Press - and the South Bend Tribune - that got Grantland Rice.

So while readers of the Tribune were immersed in the blue, gray October sky floating above the Polo Grounds, readers of the News-Times got the story a little bit differently:

The impudent Irish of Notre Dame university continued their insulting behavior toward the best football traditions of the east, rolling up another victory over the Army Saturday afternoon without seeming to exert themselves unduly.

It's not quite the same, mostly because it's worse.

But the differences didn't end there. Where Rice gave credit to his Four Horseman, the News-Times praised the Brilliant Four Men, omitting Stuhldreher from their list and including defensive captain Adam Walsh in his place. Walsh was the team's leading tackler and intercepted an Army pass, despite starting the game with one broken hand and breaking the other one early in the first half. Walsh, too, was later inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame.

During the coming years, the Tribune would continue to increase its circulation, and the News-Times would go out of business. A significant reason would be the impressive roster of national writers who were syndicated in the Tribune and the lesser voices that were included in the News-Times. After all, calling them the “Impudent Irish” doesn't quite have the same ring to it.