‘One of those oddities that worked, like throwing the dice and winning’
By Tom Mattingly
When Allen Spain, who has an amazing collection of Tennessee “stuff,” recently sent a videotape of the ABC broadcast of the 1968 Georgia and Alabama games, it brought back memories of a much earlier time in Vol broadcast history.
Allen, now living in Nashville, is a member of a group of Tennessee athletic memorabilia collectors who meet by phone on a regular basis to discuss significant events in Vol football… then and now. The group is comprised of John Park (Memphis), Dr. Bill Harb (Nashville), Barry Rice (Rogersville), and the Vol Historian (Knoxville).
For example, Harb, who has a room in his home dedicated to Vol football, has a scan of a check written to “Paul Bryant” by “R. R. Neyland” for $60.00, dated Feb. 28, 1958. The check was on the National Bank of New Orleans, but Neyland had crossed that out and replaced it with Sarasota Bank and Trust Company, with Bryant’s endorsement.
In 1968, there were two regular season Tennessee games on the tube (both from Neyland Stadium), the Georgia game Sept. 14 (No. 9 Tennessee 17, Georgia 17), and the Alabama game Oct. 19, the “Third Saturday in October.” No. 8 Tennessee won that day 10-9 against the unranked Crimson Tide.
Jimmy Weatherford, an All-American selection that season as a defensive back, blocked a potential game-winning field goal, a 36-yarder at the North end by Mike Dean, inside the final seconds. Jimmy had changed places with Nick Showalter just before the snap and came charging through from the right side of the defense to make the play.
“What did we have to lose?” said Weatherford. “They were going to win if we didn’t block the field goal. It was just a chance, one of those oddities that worked, like throwing the dice and winning.”
Tennessee partisans went home happy. Alabama fans and media members thought of what might have been.
“The stage was set to make it one of college football’s all-time classics,” wrote Alf Van Hoose of the Birmingham News.
”The scene was fitting. Perfect. Storied old Neyland Stadium on a perfect October Saturday. All it took was a 36-yard field goal by little Mike Dean. But in these cruel times, there sometimes is a jagged ending. Life is harsh.” Media members don’t write copy like that these days.
While Tennessee and Alabama were slugging it out that day on the new Tartan Turf on Shields-Watkins Field, there was an intriguing drama being played out between the broadcast booth, the production truck, and a large room under Section X.
Section X was the 1934 appendage that added 1,500 seats at the Northwest corner, making capacity 19,360. In the 1950s and into the 1960s, high school students could sit there for a dollar.
There was a mini-studio set up, where the graphics were being produced, encompassing the relevant statistics for the game, player identifications, and the scores of other games being played.
There were canisters covered with black felt, accompanied by a great many white numbers and letters, both upper and lower case. We had game monitors, but no sound. There was a special camera that showed the white letters, but nothing else, allowing them to be superimposed on the game broadcast.
Before the game, we tried to figure out who might have the greatest impact for each team, so that when someone made a big play their name and stats could appear in mere seconds. We also had 30 or 40 games listed with space for the scores and the current quarter.
The sports ticker hummed throughout the game, updating the scores, allowing us to change the scores ever so carefully… and ever so quickly.
Every so often, during a lull in the action, a voice would come over the headset, saying, “Roll the scores.” This was a slow motion activity, allowing the “talent,” in this case, Chris Schenkel and Bud Wilkinson, to comment perceptively on the games in progress.
None of us could hear what Chris and Bud were saying to the listening audience. We only heard the voices coming from the production truck and the producer in the television booth.
When the final horn sounded and the broadcast went off the air, it was time to settle up. Even then, we never saw Schenkel or Wilkinson. They were probably taken to the media hotel or to McGhee Tyson Airport to catch a plane.
We might have made $25 for the day’s work, equivalent to $233.33 today, plus all we could eat, generally some form of mystery fried chicken and coleslaw, a slice of bread or two, maybe potato salad and/or pork and beans, with a choice of beverage, adult or otherwise.
If you look at today’s graphics and game telecasts, you could rightly conclude it was very primitive back in those days, but it was all we had, all we knew. We couldn’t have foreseen how technology might have developed over the years. It may sound strange now, but it looked normal then.
It may have been primitive, but it was also a great deal of fun to be part of it.
