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"The board was not as formal then as it has become," he said. "We didn't have a lot of rules and we didn't spend a lot of time arguing about rules. We existed for one reason only, and that was to serve the needs of the football coach. The banquet was always choreographed by Joe, and the way we ran the meetings was generally approved by Joe. As for the women mem- bers, it's now 60-40 women, so that should tell you something." Bob Higgins would probably be pleased, too. His daughters married two of his best football players – Steve Suhey and Jim Dooley. If you want to see how good they were, check those game 9lms in the library archives and get closer look at the State College Quarterback Club's history. ■ Club officials work to preserve a rare institution his has been an autumn of discon- tent for the State College Quarter- back Club, a popular fan-based Penn State tradition for more than 80 years that is unique in college football. Since the late 1930s, the group has been meeting weekly with the head football coach or one of his assistants during the season to get the inside low- down on the team. What started as a small, informal gathering of State College businessmen – and it was men only until the mid- 1970s – has grown to become the 750- member State College Quarterback Club of today. The weekly meetings that began with head coach Bob Higgins narrating shaky black-and-white game films in a smoke-filled room have turned into a full-fledged luncheon every Wednesday with a master of cere- monies interviewing two players before bringing on the coach. Questions from the audience are an integral part of the gathering, and it's all off the record, al- though occasionally some anonymous errant member will leak a tidbit to the media. In the early days, the group called it- self the Monday Morning Quarterbacks Club, but in 1941 the men formally or- ganized as a nonprofit entity called the State College Quarterback Club so they could provide funding for the football program. That money – including in- come from annual dues, sponsorships by various business organizations and merchandise sales – helps defray the cost of the club's premier event, the an- nual end-of-season football awards banquet. The site and format have changed a number of times since 1941. Until Pa- terno became the head coach in 1966, an assistant coach frequently subbed for the boss, a practice that began with Higgins in the 1930s. Paterno was al- most religious about his attendance. Before his firing in November 2011, he rarely missed a luncheon, except when medical problems limited his public ap- pearances. Over the 46 years of Pater- no's coaching tenure, his devout sup- port of the club and his impeccable at- tendance at the luncheons sparked such a growth that annual membership is now capped at 750 because of luncheon space and logistics. Bill O'Brien continued Paterno's at- tendance custom, although he spent less time at the luncheons than Paterno, who always seemed to enjoy bantering and mingling with the members. O'Brien also added a wrinkle to the format, which actually took the club back to its roots. Instead of just answer- ing questions, O'Brien showed the members excerpts from the game video he used in meetings with his players. Each session would include a variety of plays from the previous game and sometimes plays taken from the scout video of the next opponent. It was a teachable moment every week, espe- cially for members who knew little about the intricacies of the sport. Most members also didn't realize this was how the club actually began. However, this season, the Lions' new head coach, James Franklin, has been noticeably absent at the luncheons. He made his debut with a standing ovation from the 467 members at the club's first meeting of the year following the UCF game in Ireland and did not return until eight luncheons later preceding the Temple game. In the interim, Franklin sent a different assistant coach or sup- port staffer as his substitute and atten- dance faltered. His appearance at the Nov. 12 luncheon was announced in ad- vance and another large crowd of 400 showed up. In a meeting two days prior to that luncheon, Franklin told the club's board that he would also attend the last two meetings before the Illinois and Michi- gan State games. However, many mem- bers are still not happy about his earlier absences and they wonder whether the pattern will continue in the future. What current members don't realize is that Franklin is simply doing what Hig- gins and Rip Engle did before Paterno became head coach. That's ancient his- tory. The pace of college football was radically slower back then, and coach- ing was not a pressure-filled year- round profession. Back then, all of Penn State's coaches also were faculty mem- bers with classroom teaching assign- ments, and that practice continued into the early 1970s. Furthermore, only a handful of the current members were there when Engle was the coach from 1950-65 or in the early years of the Pa- terno era when he was still showing T

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