MISSION FIRST: One For The Ages

The numbers, or so it would seem, tell the Charlie Jarvis story pretty clearly: Start with the 2,334 career rushing yards, that still rank him eighth on Army's all-time rushing list, even though freshmen didn't play varsity ball in the 1960s, not to mention the fact that his alma mater has played run-oriented, option football for most of the last 35 years. There's also the 1,110 rushing yards as senior in the fall of 1968, including the 253 yards against Boston College. He could also catch the ball AND was an excellent punter.

It all adds up to a sterling career. But Jarvis shakes his head vehemently when those numbers come up, because he believes the most important numbers, the ones that sum up the three years he was Army's starting fullback aren't mentioned nearly enough: 23 and seven. That was the won-loss record for the Class of 1969. Jarvis has actually done some research on what that period in Army's football history meant.

"Those were the best three-year football numbers for the Academy since Blanchard and Davis," he says, sitting in a Philadelphia restaurant on a rainy spring afternoon. "They're also the best numbers any team has had over three years since then. Jim Young's teams from 1984 to 1986 also won 23 games, but they played five more games than we did. I'm most proud to have played with the guys I played with and to be a part of those teams."

Jarvis's pride is understandable. His four years at West Point were among the most remarkable in the long history of the Academy. Every cadet was supremely aware of what was going on in Vietnam and that made life on the post nerve-wracking, often sad and almost always poignant.

"The (West Point) Class of '66 lost more men in Vietnam than any," Jarvis says. "They graduated at the end of my Plebe year. As time went on, we would all hear the names of those who'd been lost, often guys we'd known, and it was a very sad time. I don't think any of us felt fear – we knew what we were signing up for when we enrolled – but there was a definite sadness we all felt."

For the football team, the spring of 1966 was one of confusion. Ten days before spring practice was scheduled to start, Paul Dietzel resigned as coach to take the head coaching job at the University of South Carolina. Spring practice started without a head coach in place as the Academy interviewed candidates for the job. It was only after a number of 'name' coaches had said, 'No thank you, '– no doubt scared off by the specter of trying to recruit in the midst of Vietnam – that Tom Cahill, who had been in charge of spring ball – was named as head coach. It turned out to be a master stroke, even if it happened almost by accident.

"Coach Cahill was the perfect choice because he'd coached the Plebes for four years so he knew everyone on the team well," Jarvis says. "He had a great feel for how to handle guys and he was able to put together and keep together an amazing coaching staff."

That Army staff is legendary to this day. It included Bill Parcells, John Mackovic, Ray Handley, Al Groh and Frank Gansz – all of whom went on to become head coaches in the National Football League. Jarvis was closest to Parcells – the defensive coordinator. "He couldn't let his guard down with the defensive guys," Jarvis says, smiling. "He had to be the tough guy with them. But with guys like me, on the offensive side of the ball, he joked around and told stories all the time."

Jarvis had another problem during that Plebe spring in 1966: academics. He had known, even before the first day of "Beast Barracks" the previous summer that he was going to find West Point's academics challenging. In fact, he wanted to attend prep school for a year.

"I had a great math SAT," he says. "My English wasn't so great. They wanted me direct though, so there I was."

Jarvis had grown up in Philadelphia. His dad, Charlie Sr., wanted to be in the United States Navy when he graduated from high school but his eyesight wasn't good enough. Instead, he went to work in the Navy shipyards in south Philadelphia. Charlie Jr.'s first recruiting letter came from the U.S. Naval Academy.

"Sophomore year," he remembers. "A few days later I got one from Army. The difference was that the Army letters just kept coming. Tad Schroeder was in charge of recruiting and he was very big on detail. The letters never really let up once they started."

As a senior, Jarvis starred at Father Judge High School – which was known more for basketball than for football. But, in the fall of 1964, Father Judge had 13 seniors who were all recruited by Division I schools and they led the team to the school's first city championship in football. By then, Jarvis was being recruited by Navy, Air Force, Notre Dame and Army. He even took a preliminary test for Air Force but flunked – his vision wasn't strong enough to fly an airplane. Navy backed off for reasons Jarvis never completely understood. That left Army and Notre Dame.

"I visited Notre Dame twice because back then two visits were allowed," Jarvis says. "I'm Catholic and I went to a Catholic school. But in the end, it was probably something my father said to me that made the difference. He said, 'If you go to West Point and graduate, there's probably nothing you won't be able to do once you're out of the Army.'"

Jarvis heard his father's words for most of his Plebe year – 'If you graduate' – because he was convinced he wasn't going to survive one year, much less four.

"It was just hard academically. 'Beast Barracks' was tough because back then it was demeaning. Now, it's tough and demanding – which makes a lot more sense. But I honestly didn't know if I was going to cut it academically."

He did, though, and, as a sophomore, he became the starting fullback on a team that surprised most of the country by going 8-2. Steve Lindell was superb at quarterback and Jim O'Toole, his backup, was almost as good. Jarvis averaged 5.1 yards a carry while paired in the backfield with halfback Lynn Moore. Gary Steele, West Point's first African-American football player to earn a varsity letter, provided a genuine deep threat.

A year later, the Cadets were even better. Their only loss in their first nine games came at Duke, when what would have been the winning touchdown pass was mysteriously called back by an offensive pass interference call. What would have been a 14-10 win became a 10-7 loss. But Army rolled through every other opponent, including a 10-7 win at Air Force in the first game Army ever played in Colorado Springs. It was a memorable victory for everyone but Jarvis – who, to this day, has no memory of the last three quarters.

"I got kicked in the head in the first quarter," he says. "I was really out of it. Early in the third quarter our team doctor came down the sideline to check me out. In those days the concussion protocol was pretty simple: 'What's your name? What day is it? Who are we playing?' – that sort of thing. The doctor was in front of me, looking down at his checklist. Steve Lindell was standing behind me and he whispered the answers in my ear. I had no clue what was going on."

The team doctor told Cahill that Jarvis was fine to return and he did – scoring Army's only touchdown a few minutes later on an eight-yard-run during which he carried several Air Force tacklers into the end zone.

"I guess you have muscle memory in a situation like that," Jarvis says. "I don't remember even being in Colorado and I certainly don't remember the touchdown, but I guess I played okay. The guys told me we won. I took their word for it."

When Army rolled into late-November with an 8-1 record against a tough schedule, the team was invited to play in the Sugar Bowl. Unlike Navy and Air Force, Army had never played in bowl games. Now though, came a golden – or at least a sweet – opportunity. Except that the Pentagon, concerned that sending the football team to New Orleans in the midst of the Vietnam War would send the wrong message, ordered the U.S. Military Academy's Superintendent to turn down the bid.

"It was devastating," Jarvis says. "To this day I don't think we understand the logic. Think about what a morale boost it could have been for the guys over there to get to watch THEIR team play in the Sugar Bowl. It wouldn't have been disrespectful, in fact it would have been a way to honor those who were serving overseas."

This, though, was 1967, a different time than now, when the military is revered by most Americans. Vietnam was an unpopular war and the military leaders didn't want to shine a spotlight on the Army football team.

"We were so upset about it, so disappointed that we came out flat against Navy," Jarvis says. "That's inexcusable. By the time we woke up in the fourth quarter we were down 19-0. We still almost pulled the game out (losing 19-14) but it was a loss that never should have happened."

Jarvis and his classmates got a measure of revenge a year later when they closed their careers with a 21-14 win over Navy. That team went 7-3 – all three losses by four points.

"That was probably our best team," Jarvis says. "We lost tough games at Missouri and Penn State and probably should have beaten Vanderbilt. At least we went out as winners against Navy."

Perhaps to prove what an extraordinary athlete he was, Jarvis went out for lacrosse as a junior – he'd never played the sport in high school – and became an All-American, anchoring Army's defense.

After graduation, Jarvis was sent to Germany, serving in the 8th Infantry Division and then was called back to West Point because Cahill, Parcells and the other coaches thought he could help in recruiting.

"It's funny, given what my dad said to me in high school, but one of the things I did as a recruiter was take a list of recent Army football players with me into a home that showed what each was doing for a living at that moment. It was a good tool – I'm sure it's a good one, maybe even a better one, now."

With Vietnam winding down, Jarvis got out of the Army in 1974 and entered the business world. He spent 10 years running a successful direct mail company and then went to work as a money manager. He's still working today although, at 68, he's down-sized a little bit and is now one of four partners in a small firm.

He looks as if he could step into the Army backfield today, his hair still black and his body still rock solid. He played at 6-feet, 2 inches, 210 pounds and today is 6-2, 210. "I was well over that for awhile," he says, smiling. "But I am back to my playing weight."

He works at home, in the town of Pomona, N.J., which is about 55 miles from Philadelphia. He still follows his alma mater's football fortunes closely and, like everyone else connected to the program, hopes for better things soon.

"I met Coach (Jeff) Monken this spring," Jarvis says. "Here's what impressed me about him: I said to him, 'Knowing that every coach likes his recruiting class when they're first arriving, what do you really think about this group?' He looked at me, smiled and said, 'We'll know in three to four years.' I liked that answer – because it's the truth."

Like most West Point graduates who have gone on to great success, Jarvis says what he learned in college, has served him well since graduation.

"What you learn is that if you don't shy away from adversity, if you embrace it and learn from it, anything is possible," Jarvis says. "You have to have the discipline to know the difference between what needs to be done and what can be done. West Point taught me all that."

It's hard to believe looking at Jarvis, that the 50th anniversary for his graduating class is only a few years away. If he could have one wish for he and his classmates between now and the spring of 2019 it's this: "Remember what those teams accomplished. (Team captain) Ken Johnson should be in the Hall of Fame. He was a warrior. People talk about the non-Sugar Bowl team a lot and I understand that. But what Coach Cahill and our group did those three years should be remembered."

Even if Jarvis can't remember one of the most memorable wins of that era. "I don't remember it," Jarvis says, smiling. "But I cherish it."

Army West Point Athletics

MISSION FIRST: One For The Ages

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