Baylor coach Morley Jennings (from left), quarterback “Bullet Bill” Patterson and film star Mickey Rooney chat during the Bears’ visit to Los Angeles in 1938. The man at far right is not identified. (Texas Collection photo, 1939 Baylor Roundup)

Hollywood legend Clark Gable (in pinstripe suit) is flanked by Patterson (left) and Jennings (right) along with other Baylor players and visitors. (Texas Collection photo, 1939 Baylor Roundup)

College football has become a big moneymaker and media event, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that some teams routinely cross paths with famous celebrities. In fact, some college football players even become national celebrities themselves long before turning pro.

But mingling with famous stars was unheard of for football players at a small, thrifty Baptist university in Texas during the Great Depression. That’s why the trip the Baylor Bears made to Los Angeles in November 1938 to play Loyola University was such a memorable event.

It was the Bears’ second-longest road trip ever — only a 1922 trip to play Boston College had taken the team farther from Waco.

Accompanied by their coaches and Waco News-Tribune sports writer Jinx Tucker, the Baylor players caught a train in Waco the Tuesday before the game and headed for California. They arrived in Los Angeles on Nov. 10, three days later.

The outcome of the game, played on Armistice Day before a large crowd at Memorial Coliseum, was almost a foregone conclusion. Baylor was reveling in one of its good years, having lost only one contest (to top-ranked TCU). The Bears were picked as 3-1 favorites over the Lions. Led by quarterback “Bullet Bill” Patterson and standout players such as Sam Boyd and Jack Lummus, Baylor buried Loyola, 35-2.

The fun continued later in the day, when the Baylor delegation was treated to a VIP tour of MGM Studios, which boasted of having “more stars than there are in the heavens.” As they were shown around the studio, the starstruck Bears soon met box office legends such as Clark Gable, Joan Crawford, Jimmy Stewart, Lew Ayres and Mickey Rooney. They also met a few distinguished MGM directors. One Baylor player, a bashful footballer named Curtis Byrd, even chatted with famous “fan dancer” Sally Rand. Her revealing brand of peekaboo performance had not yet made it to Baptist campuses.

The 18-year-old Mickey Rooney, who was at MGM filming an Andy Hardy movie called “Out West with the Hardys,” seemed to develop a quick affinity for the Baylor squad. He attended the game, then hung out with the Baylor team while they watched a second game featuring UCLA and Wisconsin. According to one report, Rooney impressed the Baylor players “with the fact that he is much more mischievous and likable in real life than in moving pictures.”

Rooney also got to weigh in on the annual “Baylor beauties” contest. The editors of the Baylor yearbook, the Roundup, had traveled to L.A. intent on asking a Hollywood star to judge that year’s contest. The student body had chosen 15 comely coeds as finalists. The editors wanted a celebrity — any celebrity — to look over photographs and agree to pare those 15 down to the seven that should appear in the 1939 edition. They managed to float the offer to newly minted Bear fan Rooney, who eagerly accepted the challenge.

But alas, it was not to be. Soon after everyone had returned to Baylor, word came via a telegram from MGM that Rooney’s contract with the studio forbade him from taking part in anything like judging a college beauty contest. Rooney later contacted the Roundup editors and told them how sorry he was he couldn’t take part.

This tale nevertheless has a happy ending. Somehow (maybe with Rooney’s help, who knows) the dogged editors managed to get film star Tyrone Power to take over as the “Baylor Beauties” judge. His letter of acceptance, as well as his seven pictorial selections, are in the 1939 Roundup.

Of course, most early Baylor football games were not played in settings surrounded by so much glamour. But the thrills and suspense of Southwest Conference football made up for it.

Baylor and the University of Texas played each other for the first time in 1901, and a healthy rivalry developed. Texas has racked up more wins in the series, but on occasion the Bears have thrown the Longhorns for a nasty loop.

Excitement was high in Austin on Nov. 8, 1924, as UT opened play in the first game at Memorial Stadium. The thousands of Longhorn fans who showed up were expecting a victory, but nothing like the incredible performance of a somewhat diminutive Baylor right end named Bill Coffey.

As Texas fans watched in horror, Coffey magically broke through the orange and white lines to score three touchdowns. When it was all over, Baylor had won, 28-10. Not only had the Bears ruined the Longhorns’ housewarming party, they handed Texas its worst defeat up to that point against a Southwest Conference team. That year, Baylor also became the first team in conference history to beat Texas and Texas A&M in the same season.

After the game, the train back to Waco was delayed two hours so that delirious Baylor fans could march down Congress Avenue to the Capitol. Texas Gov. Pat Neff (Baylor’s trustee chair at the time and a future Baylor president) congratulated the team and invited everyone up to his office for a handshaking session.

But the pendulum swings both ways, and Texas got its revenge on Baylor 13 years later. The 1937 game was played in Waco’s Municipal Stadium, with Texas Gov. Jimmy Allred in attendance. Most people were expecting a Baylor victory, because the undefeated Bears were ranked fourth in the nation. They had unexpectedly become, in the words of Jinx Tucker, “the greatest September and October team of the entire south for the season of 1937.”

Unfortunately, this game took place in November. After battling to a 6-6 tie, the Longhorns kicked a late field goal to win the game. That sent Baylor’s national ranking into a dive and gave the Southwest Conference lead to the Rice Owls. By nightfall, word of the victory had made it to the UT campus. A switch was flipped to bathe the brand-new administration building, known as “The Tower,” in orange light. It was the first time that now familiar tradition took place.

But Baylor got to play the spoiler again — just a year later against Southwest Conference rival Arkansas. The Razorbacks were out in force to dedicate their new $300,000 stadium, with Arkansas Gov. Carl E. Bailey, Works Progress Administration chief Harry Hopkins and many other dignitaries in attendance. In a finale that seemed like reverse déjà vu, Baylor broke a 6-6 tie by kicking a last-minute field goal to win the game, stunning the Hog Nation.

Naming a new football coach always is big news. The process is rarely routine and often filled with drama and even a touch of humor, as a few examples from the early days prove.

The first truly successful Baylor football coach probably was Frank Bridges, who led the Bears to Southwest Conference championships in 1922 and 1924. He also guided Baylor to a baseball championship somewhere along the way. In his book “The Presidents,” Baylor historian Tommy Turner tells an interesting story about Bridges, whom he called, “the fair-haired hero of the Baylor sporting crowd.” Somewhat of a celebrity in southern sporting circles, Bridges paid a visit to Baylor President Samuel Palmer Brooks.

Bridges was unhappy with the amount of support given to his football program. So he presented Brooks with what amounted to an ultimatum: Either give me some satisfaction or I might leave.

Turner said the Baylor president looked at the winningest coach in Baylor football history up to that point and said, “Your resignation is accepted, Coach. Good luck, and good day.”

Bridges’ successor, Morley Jennings, was the university’s longest-serving football coach until Grant Teaff broke his record in the late 1980s. Jennings tired of coaching football and wanted to leave after the 1940 season. The Baylor administration regretfully granted his request, and he became athletic director at Texas Tech.

Who would replace Jennings after 15 seasons was a topic of intense speculation in the sports pages for three weeks. The Baylor Athletic Council repeatedly met privately to consider candidates. The front-runner was widely thought to be Coach Jack Sisco of Denton Teachers College, but sportswriters speculated about others who might have a shot.

The Waco and Dallas papers eventually reported that Hardin-Simmons football coach Frank Kimbrough was offered the Baylor job. But the media didn’t report the full story of how that important news was released. For that, we turn again to Turner’s book.

When the decision to hire Kimbrough had been made, word had traveled to the waiting sportswriters convened in Baylor President Pat Neff’s office. However, Neff didn’t want it to be made public before Baylor trustees could formally take action hours later. Neff simply ordered an aide to lock the doors leading from his office and make sure the reporters didn’t leave before the trustees meeting began.

As Turner concluded, “There were some anguished protests, but to no avail. They were dealing with Neff, not your normal university president.” Truer words were never said.

When he isn’t researching Waco history or trying to learn to play the ukulele, former broadcast journalist Randy Fiedler works as a communications specialist with Baylor marketing and communications. He can be reached at fied103@yahoo.com.