LSU History Class: The End of the Cholly Mac Era

We’re at the end of the Cholly Mac era today, which is to say, the Beginning of the End of what used to be known as the Golden Age of LSU Football. Of course, we didn’t know the real Golden Age lay about 20 years in the future, and boy… we were gonna have to go through some things to get there.

But you can’t really understand the troubled and tumultuous times without first getting a glimpse of what was lost. And yeah, the end of McClendon’s tenure was not exactly smooth sailing. Remember Coughlin’s Law: all thing end badly, or else they wouldn’t end.

Today we look at how badly it ended.

Before we get into the end game of the McClendon era, let’s take a moment to appreciate what is often unappreciated: the offensive line. The LSU offense lifted itself out of its mid-decade doldrums on the back of its offensive line keyed by Robert Dugas, a two-time All-American (1977 and 1978).

What made the Root Hogs so memorable was not just their talent on the field, but their success off of it. The line included two future doctors (Dugas and Chris Rich), a dentist (Jay Whitley), and a best-selling author (John Ed Bradley). Not bad for academic achievement. Dugas himself was an Academic All-American as a pre-med student and made the Dean’s List five times.

Alexander, of course, deeply appreciated his line. “You can have all the ability in the world, but you really don’t have anything if you don’t have the guys up front. I still keep in touch with those guys, and we try to get together at least once a year for an LSU football game.”

John Ed Bradley published one of the greatest books ever written on college football, much less LSU. It Never Rains in Tiger Stadium is a classic and one of the best insights on what it was like to be a football player in the 1970s. If you haven’t read it, what are you waiting for?

Daddy had no use for showboats and loudmouths. He believed that humility was equivalent to class in a man, and nothing pleased him more than to hear a player deflect the praise he’d earned and credit his teammates instead. Players who danced in the end zone after scoring were buffoons. Those who calmly handed the ball to an official were to be admired.

Opelousas produced few athletes who went on to play in Baton Rouge. Those who did carried a large part of my father’s identity with them. I remember when John Weinstein and Skip Cormier played on LSU’s defensive line in the early 1970s. Both made big hits in important TV games that we watched as a family. Every time the announcers mentioned either Weinstein’s or Cormier’s name, Daddy turned in his seat and faced his children. “He’s from here,” he said.

We mock those values today. But it was the team’s fundamental decency, derived from its coach, that made integration so seamless (which begs the question why on earth LSU delayed the team’s integration so long. Waiting until 1972 to integrate is shameful and simply inexcusable. The fact it went off without any drama speaks to how ridiculous it was to wait) but also informed how the team could play with the blue bloods of college football despite a massive talent disparity. LSU was a religion, and no one comes before the team.

In 1978, Carl Maddox turned 65 and according to LSU policy at the time, he was required to retire.1 The opening largely was a competition between former coach Paul Dietzel and basketball announcer Joe Dean.

Dietzel, always a strong negotiator, took the job after receiving assurances that the McClendon situation had been taken care of. They had not. Dietzel’s writings are massively self-serving, but his claims are truly backed up by the record here, he was snookered by the Board of Supervisors, who absolutely hired him to fire his longtime rival. It was a dirty move.

But it is telling that Dietzel fell for it. He asked for and received assurances from the Board but never did any independent investigation of the McClendon situation, even though the spat was highly public. Anyone who had paid even the slightest attention would know that McClendon was not going to require that someone actually fire him in order to leave.

And now Dietzel was stuck. McClendon was clearly on his last years and the Board wanted to fire him the previously but lacked the guts to go through with it. Dietzel worked out a compromise in which McClendon would stay on through 1979, so he could take the job as President of the American College Football Coaches Association. It also gave Dietzel time to find a successor, though he did have to deal with the bad press of getting accused of back stabbing his friend. In Dietzel’s words, he said allowing McClendon to stay until 1979 was done in “Good taste and dignity.”

Dietzel and Mac’s relationship was fraught in the best of times. I do honestly believe Dietzel was trying to find a dignified way for McClendon to retire, but it wasn’t hard to spin things to Mac that Dietzel betrayed him. Dietzel was hired to deal with the McClendon problem, and he promptly found a solution. That was the job. Had the Board hired Dean, he would’ve fired McClendon as well, and maybe not let him stick around for two more seasons.

But the history between the two men loomed large, and it informed the interpretation of Dietzel’s every move. To McClendon, this was yet another in a long line of indignities from the former coach. When Dietzel took the Army job, LSU named McClendon his successor. Dietzel was allowed to coach the Orange Bowl in 1962 as his farewell game, but in a fit of pique, left his defensive coordinator off the staff. McClendon watched the game from the stands. Let’s just say that he never forgot that insult.

Even without that personal bad blood, Dietzel was the standard to which McClendon was held. Only one of them one a national title as a head coach, and there wasn’t an LSU fan who let McClendon forget it. Cholly Mac was well-liked, he was an affable man after all, but you know what they say about nice guys and where they finish. It didn’t help that Dietzel was far better at dealing with the press, and every few years he would find some pliable sportswriter to help him rewrite at his legacy, usually at the expense of McClendon.2

Dietzel was a ghost who wouldn’t go away. Now he was back, in the flesh. And he was here to fire McClendon. The bad blood just got worse. Cholly Mac couldn’t win this fight and he probably knew it, but at least he had two last years to stick it to his rival.

Charles Alexander is easily the greatest running back in LSU history in the era between Dietzel and the modern Golden Age. There should be statutes of this man around campus, but instead he’s largely forgotten by modern fans and even older fans, who have done more to preserve the legacies of Cannon, Stovall, and Taylor.

But Charles Alexander was a bad motherfucker on the field. Let’s marvel at his resume: two-time first-team All-American, en route to breaking 27 school records and 9 SEC records. His 1977 season was his masterwork, as he set the LSU record for rushing yards (1,686) and yards per game (153.3). Those records stood until Leonard Fournette and still rank second all-time in LSU history. His season was keyed by four big games: 237 yards against Oregon, 231 against Wyoming, 199 against Tulane and 183 against Vanderbilt — all wins.

He ranks third all time in school history in career rushing yards (4,035) and in rushing touchdowns (40). He also topped 100 yards in nine consecutive games, a school record which still stands, though it was tied by Fournette.

Somehow, Alexander only finished ninth in the Heisman balloting in 1977, due to the existing bias against non-seniors winning the award and, well, the existence of Earl Campbell. But his numbers stacked up: Campbell rushed for 267-1744-18 and Alexander 311-1686-17. He was named the 1977 SEC Player of the Year.

Alexander finished fifth in the Heisman voting in 1978, though his season wasn’t quite as strong. It would be LSU’s last Heisman finalist until 2011, when Tyrann Matheiu finished fifth and the last offensive player to be a finalist until Joe Burrow won the award in 2019.3

Most impressively, Alexander was the first SEC player to rush for 4,000 yards and the first to score 40 touchdowns. He still ranks ninth all-time. He was enshrined in the College Football Hall of Fame in 2012. It’s gobsmacking it took that long.

So why isn’t he considered to be part of the inner circle of SEC greats, where he almost certainly belongs? Two words: Herschel Walker.

When Alexander finished his career in 1978, he owned the SEC record book. Alexander topped 4,000 yards at a time when only two other players in SEC history had ever even cleared 3,000 yards.4 He wasn’t on top of the mountain, he WAS the mountain. And just two years later, the greatest running back in college football history showed up and took an eraser to everything Alexander built.

The first player to 4,000 yards doesn’t seem so impressive when two years later, Herschel embarked on a career of 5,259 rushing yards in just three seasons. Billy Cannon won the Heisman and the national title, but Charles Alexander was better. Yeah, I said it.

He should be treated like the LSU football royalty he is.

The offense returned nine starters, including its entire offensive line and both parts of the quarterback rotation: scrambler David Woodley and drop-back pass Steve Ensminger. For its part, the defense returned five starters. Coming off an 8-4 season, LSU sat just outside the preseason top 10.

First order of business was getting revenge on that Lee Corso follow. Not only did Indiana upset LSU in the prior year’s season opener, but their AD at the time was one Paul Dietzel. He technically was still employed by Indiana at kickoff, taking the job with LSU officially the week following. So, yeah, there was some incentive.

The Tigers didn’t exactly lay an egg, but it certainly wasn’t the game they had envisioned. LSU jumped out to a 21-7 lead and then slowly saw that lead erode, aided by 10 penalties for 129 yards. Indiana cut the lead to seven in the fourth quarter, and made LSU nervous in the game’s final two minutes.

Chris Williams seemingly saved the game with an interception at the 12-yard line, but it was wiped out by a pass interference flag. That’s when the defense stepped up. To the background of a chorus of boos due to the call, the defense forced a fumble, recovered by the Hoosiers for a 22 yard loss. On the very next play, LSU finally got its game saving pick, this one by Tommy Frizzell with 1:40 left. This one wasn’t called back, and LSU won, 24-17.

As a three-touchdown favorite, they barely squeaked by Wake Forest the following week, 13-11. LSU capped off its 4-0 start by dominating Florida, 34-21. Yeah, they allowed the Gators off of the mat, as they narrowed a 27-7 lead down to 6, but the Tigers were inspiring talk of an SEC title.

The talk was short-lived. In the first meeting with Georgia in a quarter century, LSU fumbled away a ten-point halftime lead. Literally. Lindsay Scott opened the second half with a 99-yard kickoff return for a touchdown, cutting the lead to 3. An interception and a fumble recovery would set up Georgia’s next two scoring drives. By the end of a disastrous third quarter, the Tigers had lost the lead by allowing 17 unanswered points and worse yet, Charles Alexander left the game with a pulled muscle. It snapped his eight game streak of 100-yard rushing games. Not only did LSU fail to score, they wouldn’t cross midfield again until the game’s penultimate play.5 McClendon quipped, “We were forced to pass and I don’t like this.”

LSU won its next two games by a combined total of 51-8 to get to 6-1, setting up a top ten matchup in Tuscaloosa. Carlos Carson opened the scoring, giving LSU a 7-0 lead. Then came the critical play: Chris Williams intercepted a pass and returned it for a 79-yard touchdown, giving LSU a two touchdown lead… only for a clipping call to take the score off the board.

A short punt gave the ball back to the Tide, who promptly took the ball down the field to tie the game at seven. Mike Conway’s 44-yard field goal seemingly put LSU back on top, until a flag for 12 men on the field wiped out the score. Bama would score another touchdown, on a drive keyed by yet another major penalty on LSU. The Tigers added a 29-yard field goal as time expired in the first half. The Tigers had outplayed the Tide, but thanks to having 10 points taken off the board, they were down, 14-10.

The Tigers simply collapsed in the second half. Chris Williams fumbled a punt inside his own 10, and the Tide defense held Alexander to a mere 46 yards. It was lowest total since 1976... also against Bama. The Tigers lost 31-10, and any dreams of an SEC title died.

The hangover lasted into next week, as Mississippi St. jumped out to a 13-0 halftime lead. LSU attempted a comeback, which was largely undone by a missed 32-yard field goal attempt by Mike Conway. Given a second chance by an offside penalty, Conway wouldn’t miss. Instead, they botched the snap and he never got a kick off. LSU lost, 16-14.

LSU would rally against Tulane and Wyoming, earning a bid to the Liberty Bowl. A late rally came to no avail, and Missouri pulled off the 20-15 win. LSU finished the year at 8-4. Again.

LSU integrated its football team in 1972. Terry Robiskie, recruited in 1973, would be the first black LSU player to win the SEC MVP Award and Charles Alexander, signed in 1974, would be its first black Heisman finalist.

Just six short years after integration, LSU’s defensive backfield starters were all African-American, and they dubbed themselves The Soul Patrol, which let’s be honest, is one of the greatest nicknames of all time.

Corners Chris Williams and Willie Teal, paired with safeties Marcus Quinn and James Britt, recorded 16 interceptions in 1978. From 1978-1980, they would have a total of 33 interceptions. They are the forefathers of DBU.

But first among equals was Chris Williams. Still my favorite stat is that Chris Williams holds the LSU record for interceptions in a game (3), season (8), and a career (20). Chris Williams’ 20 career interceptions is still the SEC record. He was a two-time All-SEC corner (1978 and 1980) but somehow never an All-American.

McClendon’s final year was marked, poetically, by some of the most gut wrenching losses in the history of the LSU program. Charles Alexander was gone, but this was still a solid team with a bruising defense. It is also perhaps the season most stacked with memorable and historically important games to the program. It would set the tone for what was to come.

The final season opened with consecutive blowout victories, 44-0 over Colorado in Boulder and 47-3 over Rice at home.

Then came perhaps the most storied loss in LSU lore: the USC game. Of course, we’ve already written about it before. The story of the game is that of the Tiger faithful and their support of the team. It is the myth of Tiger Stadium in one game. Please indulge me extensively quoting myself, as I don’t know how long that piece will remain on the internet:

This is not nostalgia. This 1979 USC team was beyond loaded. They boasted three inner circle Hall of Famers (Allen, Lott, and Munoz), and that leaves off the guy who won the Heisman that season. LSU’s John Ed Bradley summed it up best, “They were billed as the best college football team in history,” Bradley said. “They had talent across the board. They were like a pro team playing in college… We were an average LSU team. We played with a lot of heart. When you’re young and you’re that age, you believe you can win any game.”

The great equalizer for LSU was its home crowd. This is the game which gave us the quote which now adorns the LSU Trophy Room, courtesy of Brad Budde, “It makes Notre Dame look like Romper Room.”

Ronnie Lott, one of the most intimidating players in football history and no stranger to hostile environments, remarked years later, “It’s probably the only time in my life I was intimidated by the crowd.” He noted it wasn’t just the game, it was the whole crazed environment, “There was a guy yelling right in my face and carrying a full fifth of liquor in his hand. I couldn’t believe it. That was a first for me. Not just a glass now -- I’d seen that -- but a full fifth bottle.” He continued, “From the time we landed to the time we left, I don’t know if a team has ever gone through that.”

LSU fans showed up to the movie theater at which the USC team watched a film the day before the game. They were aggressively Tiger Baited by the crowd. Even coach John Robinson was shaken, “Well, at first they wouldn’t let us off the bus.”

As John Ed Bradley put it from the LSU perspective, “I could barely hear the quarterback in the huddle. I remember looking across at the USC players on the first play and their eyes were as big as saucers. They had looks of just sheer terror.”

The story of the USC game is that of the noble defeat. LSU lost 17-12, but it is one of those games that is remembered in Tiger Lore because of the valiant fight against impossible odds. It is the legend not of the team’s legendary toughness, but our own:

As the Tigers fell heartbroken to the turf, its impossible upset bid thwarted by the hands of fate, the crowd rose up and did a truly remarkable thing: they cheered. The Tigers left the field as the stadium chanted, “L-S-U! L-S-U!”

Ronnie Lott called the scene one of the greatest of his career, “Every one of us left that night saying ‘that was a game, ‘ but I still think about it that way. I haven’t been in an event like that at any level of football. Out of all the games I’ve ever played in, I’ve never been in anything like that, and I am including my Super Bowls in that assessment.”

Or in the words of John Ed Bradley, the LSU team captain, “I know what it meant to Coach Mac. If a game can personify a man, that game was Coach Mac. He came in an underdog and left all his guts on the field. His ragtag bunch of kids from Louisiana played the best team ever and left it all on the field.”

And that, my friends, is the real story of LSU football.

But a noble defeat is still a defeat. LSU would actually climb in the polls after losing this one, and rose all the way to #13 the following week after a win over Florida. A late fumble would doom a comeback bid against Georgia, a 21-14 loss.

LSU’s struggles continued the following week, falling behind to Kentucky, 19-3. Behind Hokie Gajan’s 104 yards rushing, the Tiger would rally for a comeback win. Steve Ensminger threw for one touchdown and ran for another. A rattled Wildcat squad fumbled on their own 10 to set up the game-winning score. LSU emerged victorious, 23-19.

For as legendary as the USC game is, the Florida St. game is actually the most historically impactful game of the season. Dietzel and McClendon had publicly agreed this was the final season, giving the AD a full year to find the replacement.

At this point, Dietzel’s coaching search had run into dead ends with Lou Holtz and George Welsh, two of his top three choices. But his ultimate top choice was Bobby Bowden at Florida St. Bowden had built FSU out of nothing.6

Bowden recalled, “At that time Florida State wasn’t thought of. I had the support here [FSU], but it was kind of like Southern Mississippi – do you think they can do it? No. ... I was kind of in a quandary in Tallahassee, because I’m not sure we can do it. It wasn’t just my thinking but anybody’s thinking. It was like, “Bobby, if you get the LSU job, take it.””

He was seriously considering the LSU offer and, well, let’s let Bowden tell the story:

“I’d always wanted to be a coach in the Southeast, like Alabama or Georgia,” Bowden said. “But nothing suited me better than LSU. That was a prime job back then, because you had the whole state to yourself (for recruiting).

“He (Dietzel) was going to offer me the job. He’d already told me he was going to offer it to me. I remember the press kept asking me what I was going to do. I told them I’d talk about it at the right time.

“That was the weekend, the game, where I really made the decision to stay at Florida State,” he said. “That was back in the days when people didn’t beat LSU at home. I went into that game thinking if we can beat them, maybe we can get it done down here.

“And after we won (24-19), Ann (Bowden’s wife) and I talked about staying, and then they came back and gave me what I wanted.”

Had LSU won that game, Bowden likely decides that he cannot win it all at Florida St and takes the LSU offer on the table. For all of the local obsession with the Spurrier Myth, it was actually Bowden who came close to coming to Baton Rouge.7 The offer was, by all reports, on the table.

Instead, the win in Tiger Stadium convinced him that FSU really could win anywhere against anyone. Why go to LSU and be the Next Cholly Mac when you could stay at Florida St. and build your own thing?

LSU dominated the first half, outrushing FSU 139-23, but went into the half down by a point. FSU picked up on that momentum and extended its lead, holding off a late LSU charge to win 24-19. The Seminoles would finish up an undefeated regular season in 1979, but dropped the Orange Bowl to Oklahoma. By that point, Bobby Bowden had already signed a five-year extension to stay in Tallahassee. LSU missed out on its man.

LSU would drop yet another heartbreaker to Alabama. It would be the Tigers’ only other loss in a SEC game all year, and it came to two teams who combined to go 11-1 in SEC play. LSU fought Bama to a near draw, losing 3-0 on a rainy night in Tiger Stadium.

The Washington Post game story reads like a slow-motion tragedy:

“We just weren’t good enough,” Charlie McClendon said to Bear Bryant, the pupil to his old teacher, the LSU coach to the Alabama coach, the man fired to the man whose teams got him fired.

“Cholly Mac, I’m so sorry,” said Bryant, who coached McClendon 30 years ago and now has beaten his LSU teams nine straight years, a dominance that was a factor in LSU firing McClendon.

“You’ve done a great job,” Bryant said when the men met at midfield in a chilly, misting rain that fell all night long, lending a touch of melancholy to the coaches’ last such meeting.

“You’re No. 1, Babe,” McClendon said, and Bryant said, “You gave us all we could handle.”

For only the fourth time in this decade, Alabama did not score a touchdown in a game.

If McClendon’s career were a movie, that’s the climatic scene. His mentor, after beating him again, comforting him at midfield on a rainy night. Unfortunately, there were still games to play.

LSU closed out Coach Mac’s final regular season by losing the Battle of the Rag for just the second time since 1948. Worse yet, the reason was simple: Tulane was a better team. LSU accepted a bid to the Tangerine Bowl, where they would beat Wake Forest, but the career of McClendon ended in disappointment.

LSU finished the year 7-5, but they lost to the teams which finished 1^st, 2^nd, and 6^th in the nation. In addition, Georgia finished the year 5-1 in the SEC and even Tulane went 9-3, and was ranked 15^th in the final regular season poll before losing 9-6 to Penn St in the Liberty Bowl.

As much as I’ve framed these seasons as a disappointment, and they were, LSU still went 23-13 in McClendon’s final three seasons. Yes, the program had taken a step back, but let’s not pretend it was the Hindenberg. In 18 seasons, McClendon had one losing season. That’s one less than Dietzel had in just seven seasons in Baton Rouge.

He also managed to avoid even the hint of scandal in an era of SEC lawlessness. In the late 1970s, the NCAA cracked down on the SEC, resulting in probation for Mississippi St. (1975), Kentucky (1976), Georgia (1978), and Auburn (1979). Florida’s truly epic violations lay in the very near future as well. Outside the SEC, Oklahoma went 21-0-1 from 1973-74, won a national title, all while banned from postseason play due to NCAA violations.

As McClendon moved out of his home after the year, he wondered where all of the people were who promised to help him pack. Which sums up the nature of the man: wounded, but his pride still intact.

In his own words, “football coaches are the most optimistic people in the world.” The optimism had run out, and the winningest coach in LSU history was forced out after a season of bitter defeats. Even his staunchest defenders had to admit that it was time. On the other hand, even his staunchest critics could never attack the man’s character. McClendon was a relic of another era and unsuited for the near professional game that college football was about to become.

Still, let’s let the man have the last word (link to video).

LSU could no longer compete by running the football and recruiting local kids who played above their abilities for the honor of the state and their hometowns. Offenses were starting to open up, and the forward pass was no longer a dirty four-letter word. The game was moving into the TV era, and it had no place for the long ties to the past. It no longer had room for the likes of Cholly Mac.

We’re all poorer for it.