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Roy Terrell
November 30, 1959
From oft-derided Ivy League football come a few excellent players and a number of interesting young men
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November 30, 1959

Here Are The Best Of The Ivies

From oft-derided Ivy League football come a few excellent players and a number of interesting young men

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When Boulris graduated from Deerfield Academy, after being an all-state player at Springfield, Mass. Technical High School, 79 colleges offered him scholarships: all the Big Ten schools, every one of the Ivies, Notre Dame, UCLA. Today, if he were one step faster he would be a sure bet for the pros; he has size and power, can pass and punt. But Chet Boulris has never been sorry he picked Harvard. "What I missed in football," he says, "I feel I have more than made up for in other ways."

Boulris is a tough kid who made good. His father is dead, his mother and sister have only modest means and weren't in favor of Chet's going to college. At Harvard, where he receives a scholarship—Ivy League scholarships are usually based on need—Boulris was frequently in trouble throughout his first two years. He was a borderline student floundering amidst the demands of pre-med and athletics; he was a rowdy on the field, sometimes a braggart and a wise guy in class. He didn't have a chip on his shoulder, he had the entire board.

But during his junior year a marvelous transformation came over Boulris. He buckled down to his studies and began to make good grades. He has developed exceptional poise and manners. He is serious and intense, confident and assured.

Boulris wears glasses even when he plays football, because childhood scarlet fever left him with weak eyes. On kick-offs he has great difficulty picking up the ball in flight. But when he gets hold of the thing he's awfully hard to stop. Yale discovered that once again on Saturday.

Dartmouth guard (5 feet 10, 190 pounds)

Married and already a graduate student, Boye considers himself neither a football player nor an Ivy Leaguer. No one offered him a scholarship when he graduated from high school, partly because he didn't need it. His father is a partner in a Wall Street investment house and has a seat on the stock exchange.

"My physical plant is so unimpressive," says Boye, who is an exceptional student and often talks this way, "that when my father took me down to introduce me to the coaches as a freshman, they asked if I were a halfback."

As for being an Ivy Leaguer, Boye feels that the expression today means "a tweed bag, a guy who is stereotyped, and I don't want to be that." There is little danger. To Bob Boye there are things more important than clothes and clubs—or even football. At first he wasn't going to play at all this year, and he missed several weeks of practice. "But when I arrived back at school and saw the guys out for football, I just had to play. It was an aspect of my life I had to fulfill. I'd played organized football nine years, and there was a compulsion to complete it."

Boye will have a job on Wall Street, too, when he graduates, and he has no worries about his future. But then he isn't the kind to worry, anyway; Bob has enough determination and intelligence to make out all right wherever he goes.

Cornell end (6 feet 2, 200 pounds)

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