Ground was broken for the new stadium that would rise on the west side of the river.
OUSTED FROM THE BIG TEN
Though athletic directors met in Chicago to schedule conference games for the next several years, the topic was deferred for a general discussion of recruiting problems. Before the meeting was over, a series of subcommittee meetings led to the conclusion that three conference schools had violated conference rules and regulations, but that conclusive evidence existed against only one: Iowa.
A committee report, scrawled on hotel stationery, concluded with this: "We therefore recommend that the Conference sever athletic relations with Iowa University, this act to become effective January 1, 1930."
The major charge was that Iowa was losing faculty control of its athletic department and that alumni were too influential in running the show. Iowa was also charged with having a businessmen's slush fund to subsidize athletes, giving athletes commission on the sale of yearbooks, refunding tuition to aid athletes, and failing to certify athletes as academically eligible.
Months of investigations followed and appeals for reinstatement were ignored until the Board in Control of Athletics capitulated to conference demands on December 11, 1929, by declaring 14 athletes ineligible because of loans they'd received. On February 1, 1930, the suspension action was rescinded.
But great damage had been done. It took Iowa a long time to regain favor with both the public and the media, in spite of a report by the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching that was released in October 1929, indicating that Iowa's violations were common among Big Ten schools, as well as other universities.
The University of Iowa News Bulletin reported that a railroad spur line was being constructed so that 60 cars of football fans could be delivered almost to the gates of the new stadium.
The Hawkeyes played their first game in the new stadium, beating Monmouth by a score of 46-0. "The honor of making the first touchdown on the new gridiron went to Captain Glassgow after a sparkling 30 yard run."
In the midst of the trauma surrounding Iowa's suspension from the Big Ten, the $500,000 stadium west of the river was dedicated. The football program commemorating the event proclaimed that "this is no ordinary stadium, built on a rubber stamp plan.... Most stadiums tower ponderously on the ground's surface like some ungainly monster, dwarfing all surrounding objects...."
Iowa's stadium was built 30 feet below ground level so that the top of the stands stood "just 50 feet higher than the earth's normal surface." Everyone who bought a ticket for a game in the new stadium was allocated 17 inches of seat and the media were housed comfortably in the press boxes located on each side of the structure: "Glass enclosed, the boxes are equipped with electric heat and light, and with individual writing desks."
The program speculated that someday the ends of the stadium, which were seeded with grass in the early years, could be closed in with stands to provide seating for nearly 70,000 spectators. The seating capacity of the stadium when it first opened was 42,184.
Writing for the Chicago Tribune, Irving Vaughn offered Hawkeye fans some solace during a difficult time: "If Iowa needs any consolation for its failure to create more havoc in the Big Ten circle from which it is to be banished, it can find it quite easily. The Hawkeyes have Captain Bill Glassgow. No halfback ever revealed himself in a brighter light. He ran off tackles, he ripped into the line and he passed. He literally carried almost the entire Purdue team with him at times. When tougher and more willing backs are built, they will have to make the model from the stocky lad from Shenandoah, Iowa." This tribute followed Iowa's loss to the Boilermakers. Final score: 7-0.