RAYMOND A. FRICK
"It takes moxie to play football, and if you don't have moxie you're not going to make it in the business world," says Raymond A. Frick, Penn's 1940 captain. "Sounds like a bunch of clich�s, I know, but there is a definite parallel between football and business. Both demand determination, spirit and sacrifice." Something of these same qualities brought Frick through the war years as a Liberator pilot in Europe, a year in a German prison camp and up through the ranks from foreman to the vice-presidency of the American Brake Shoe Company's Railroad Products Division.
W. DWIGHT GAHM
When Dwight Gahm was playing center at Indiana the game was simpler than the one his son plays today. But then, as now, football required taking chances, and there is no record of Dwight Gahm backing down from a risky thing. In 1955, against sound advice, he bought a kitchen-cabinet company that was struggling to turn out 20,000 units a year. Immediately he instituted an incentive system, paying employees more for doing more. His company today turns out half a million cabinets a year in a plant that sprawls over 10 acres, and his efficient workers, he believes, are the highest paid in the woodcraft industry.
JAMES W. GARVEY
No doubt James Garvey could have cut quite a figure at one of the fashionable prep schools in the East, graduating as he did with straight A's from Colgate and playing two years of pro ball with the Providence Steamrollers. He had prep schools in mind but, in getting his graduate degree at Columbia, Substitute Teacher Garvey met P.S. 171 head on. "Our problems were the basic ones you find in the ghetto," he says, "low income, split homes, alcoholism." Garvey reacted to the challenge by electing to teach at an all-Negro girls' junior high school. He is an assistant principal now, and he would not change careers for anything.
NORMAN RUSSELL GAY
Just two blocks away from the cluttered office of Norman Russell Gay is Notre Dame Stadium. While the campus goes joyfully insane on selected fall afternoons, he sits high in the stands, immune from undergraduate hysteria. Not that football does not have its place but, as dean of the engineering college, Gay is more interested in the practical application of slide rules than in national championships. It would surprise a lot of his pupils, however, to learn that he was a violently active guard and co-captain on one of the few winning teams Rochester ever had. "They would be surprised," he says, "to know we had football."
THOMAS D. HARMON
Mention old 98 at Michigan and everybody knows who you mean—Tommy Harmon, who carried that number across 33 enemy goal lines and right into football's Hall of Fame. Harmon could have picked his sport to win All-America honors (he was an all-state basketball player at Gary, a 9.8 sprinter, and the Yankees wanted to sign him as a pitcher), but football was his passion. Strangely, the one game Harmon cannot forget is a defeat—7-6. "It is still difficult to accept," he says, but so is half-good in a sports announcer. Harmon has some 10 million regular listeners, but he will not be satisfied until he has five minutes of the whole country's time each evening for a sports show that "is truly honest and well done."