ARMY DEFEATS NAVY
It was just as the gray cloaked lads from West Point chanted in lugubrious measure before the game:
Go-oo-od Night, Nayvee!
Go-oo-od Night, Navy!
Go-oo-od Night—Na-ay-ve-ee!
The Army wins to-day!
They put into the chorus all the pathos, all the long-sustained notes, all the tonsorial-parlor chords of which it is capable, and those, as you know, are many.
And the Army boys, sitting in a fog which in hue just about matched their capes and caps, called the turn correctly with their vocal prediction.
It was "Good Night, Navy!" to the tune of 14 points to 0.
The youngsters from the west bank of the Upper Hudson were triumphant in their twentieth annual battle with the midshipmen from Annapolis by two touchdowns and their concomitant goals, one in the first period of play, the other in the third. The count of games now stands ten for the Army, nine for the Navy, and one tie.
President Wilson, in a topper that got wet, and with a beaming face that was sprinkled with mist and raindrops, watched the fight and stayed until the final wild whoop from the last departing cadet had sounded through the semi-darkness that fell upon the Polo Grounds along toward 4:30 p.m.
Mrs. Edith Bolling Galt, who soon is to be Mrs. Wilson, was present with her winsome smile and her white furs and her lavender orchids—fortunately, you could see her even through the haze—by the President's side.
And then there were some forty thousand others, whose ranks in life ranged down from cabinet officers and generals and admirals to ordinary civilians, who dug as deep—some of them—as $20 a seat for the privilege.