ed his death in the
Georgia-Virginia game, played in Atlanta, Georgia, on October 30th,
1897. He was a fine fellow personally and one of the most popular men at
the University. As a football player, he was an excellent punter, a
good plunger, and a strong defensive man. On account of his kicking and
plunging ability he was moved to fullback in his second year.

In the Virginia game he backed up the line on the defense. All that
afternoon he worked like a Trojan to hold in check the powerful masses
Virginia had been driving at the tackles. Early in the second half Von
dove in and stopped a mass aimed at Georgia's right tackle, but when the
mass was untangled, he was unable to get up. An examination showed that
he was badly hurt. In a minute or two, however, he revived and was set
on his feet and was being taken from the field by Coach McCarthy, when
Captain Kent, thinking that he was not too badly hurt to continue in the
game, said to him:

"Von, you are not going to give up, are you?"

"No, Bill," he replied, "I've got too much Georgia grit for that."

These were his last words, for upon reaching the side lines he lapsed
into unconsciousness and died at two o'clock the next morning.

Gammon's death ended the football season that year at the University. It
also came very near ending football in the State of Georgia, as the
Legislature was in session, and immediately passed a bill prohibiting
the playing of the game in the State.

However, Mrs. Gammon--Von's mother--made a strong, earnest and personal
appeal to Governor Atkinson to veto the bill, which he did.

Had it not been for Mrs. Gammon, football would certainly have been
abolished in the State of Georgia by an act of the Legislature of 1897.

I knew a great guard whose whole heart was set on making the Princeton
team, and on playing against Yale. This man made the team. In a
Princeton-Columbia game he was trying his best to stop that wonderful
Columbia player, Harold Weekes, who with his great hurdling play was
that season's sensation. In his hurdling he seemed to take his life in
his hands, going over the line of the opposing team feet first. When the
great guard of the Princeton team to whom I refer tried to stop Weekes,
his head collided with Weekes' feet and was badly cut.

The trainer rushed upon the field, sponged and dressed the wound and the
guard continued to play. But that night it was discovered that blood
poisoning had set in. There was gloom o