Cantor for Evashevski

Every Monday quarterback knows that Grange could never have wriggled into the nation's headlines without Britton. Neither could have Harmon without Evashevski. Yet last week, just as they canonized Illinois' Red Grange 15 years before, hero-worshiping U. S. football fans spread a halo around Tom Harmon, Michigan's hula-hipped halfback who put on the best one-man show of the 1940 season, hung up a conference record of 33 touchdowns in three years' competition.

Fortnight ago, Harmon played his last game for Michigan.* Hardly had he cast off his famed 98 jersey (which will be retired to a shrine in Michigan's Field House), than professional football clubs began making do-or-die tackles for him. Red Grange, who had made 31 touchdowns in his varsity career, had been lured into the Chicago Bears' line-up--at a reputed $10,000 a game--the week after he played his last game for Illinois. Nowadays, college footballers cannot play professional ball until their class has graduated. But any player who in eight games can score 16 touchdowns, throw seven touchdown passes, convert 18 points-after-touchdown and kick a field goal--to give his team 159 of their 196 points--is good whenever the pros can get him. The Chicago Bears and Washington Redskins had each reportedly offered $25,000 to catch the Wolverine Express for next year.

Tom Harmon shrugged his shoulders. Unlike many big-time college football stars who major in physical education, he has primed himself for a radio career. As part of his radio course, he had conducted a payless 15-minute Saturday-morning sport program over a local Ann Arbor station. Last week, while he was being named for all the All-Americas in the land and showered with all the post-season trophies "for the most outstanding player of the year," Tom Harmon was far more excited over an invitation to appear for pay as guest star with Comedian Eddie Cantor on Sal Hepatica's "Time to Smile" radio program.

"Why, he can ad lib faster than I can," gurgled goggle-eyed Eddie Cantor, impressed not only by Harmon's velvety-smooth radio voice but his unshakable poise. The $900 he received for singing and clowning with Cantor promptly classed Harmon as a professional, barred him from continuing to play basketball and baseball at Michigan this spring. But to Tom Harmon it was worth it. From East and West came radio offers (including a fabulous tie-up with Bing Crosby), movie contracts from Warner Brothers and M. G. M., a flood of fan letters (including just the imprint of a girl's lips).

Cantor, an old hand at clearing the way for up-&-coming entertainers, had done some nice blocking for Tom Harmon in the new, glittering game he had chosen.

*Not his last game of the season, however. On New Year's Day, he will be among the East's representatives in San Francisco's annual East-West charity game.

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