As a member of the cavalry troop at Michigan Military Academy Ed had the opportunity to develop a remarkable skill in riding. In recollection, he wrote, ^"We did a great deal of trick riding in those days — bareback, Cossack, Graeco-Roman and all the rest of it. It was known as `monkey drill,' and if a man did not lose his nerve and quit, he had to become a good horseman.

News of the astonishing ability of the academy cavalry had reached the ears of the Detroit Riding Club, and a selected group of riders was chosen to appear for an exhibition. A souvenir program of the Columbian Saddle Horse Show describes the events of Tuesday, April 4, through Thursday, April 6, 1893. The Orchard Lake Cadets' exhibition drill, with saddle and full equipment on the first night, was listed as "Event No. 5" on the program. The Drill Master was Hugh Thomason, and of the fourteen cadets in the platoon, Cadet Private E. R. Burroughs is listed as number seven; his friend Robert Lay was number twelve and the color bearer.

On Wednesday April 5 the cadets presented an exhibition drill "with blankets, without equipments.^" On the final evening, April 6, a newspaper reported the results: ^"The Orchard Lake cadets took part in a competitive drill, which was an exciting affair. Their vaulting and dismounting and mounting drew applause, and the judges had a hard time picking the winners."

The decision was made: "They finally had T. T. Harker, Ed R. Burroughs and F. R. Graves step out, and after an exhibition by each of them gave the prizes in the order named. . . ." Ed's second prize was a gentleman's riding crop, while his horse, Captain, received a red ribbon. In the newspaper accounts of the exhibition, (April 4-7, 1893) the cadets' riding drew a eulogy:

... These young men ride in the natural and easy position of a cavalry man, and their mounting and dismounting on bareback is wonderful... .

The dashing cavalry from Orchard Lake gave one of the most attractive exhibits of the evening, commanded by Hugh Thomason, first sergeant troop F, U.S. cavalry. Hard riding and difficult evolutions, sweep of flashing sabres through the air and a volley of shots as a wind up, wrought the audience up to a pitch of applause that was deafening... .

The drill wound up in the manner of the wild west show. Drawing their revolvers the cadets dashed madly around the ring, firing in all directions, and then rallied in the center, after which they left the ring.

In a news story of April 5, the astonishment of the viewers, and their realization of the differences in style between the sedate, stiff English riders who normally appeared at the horse shows, and the vigorous, natural riding of the cadets is revealed. The writer made it plain that he preferred the American cavalry horsemanship: 

These horrid cavalry horses did not have the fashionable English trot or gallop, nor did the rider sit in the English way, but they were plain Americans. The cadets ride like the vaqueros dash through the chapparel, ride like the fleet South American gauchos, the most skillful and daring riders in the world. But the cadets are not fashionable riders.

The cadets are what might be called strong riders. Their stirrups are long, their seats are firm, they never forsake the motion of the horse. There is an abandon, a smoothness, a naturalness, a spirit to their horsemanship, that breathes forth the wild wind, the long road, the cheerfulness of outdoors... .

It is not military horsemanship. It is American horsemanship, it is Mexican horsemanship, it is South American horsemanship. It is riding of men who live in the saddle.

<>A less enthusiastic description of the English rider is added:  <>

The fashionable rider is not part of his horse, he is perched on his horse; he is bobbing, he is making an art of riding, his horse is giving an exhibition of what a saddler should be, and is showing how a rider should retain his seat... .  <>

The cadets' type of horsemanship, as reported in a story of April 6, included bareback riding feats that ^"recalled the exhibitions by Buffalo Bill's cowboys." This riding skill and love of horses developed by Ed in his academy years would always remain with him.

The summer of 1893 saw the start of Ed's lifelong fascination with the automobile when he became involved in the exhibition staged by his father's American Battery Company at the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago. He was given the enviable assignment of driving an electric automobile around the fairgrounds. George Burroughs had installed the auto at the World's Fair to demonstrate the company's storage batteries. One writer, in calling the vehicle an "electrical horseless carriage," goes on to report that Ed drove "a nineseater horseless surrey about the fairgrounds, starting runaways every hundred feet or so. In another account the writer claims that Ed drove the first automobile in Chicago, and describes how "at night, circling about the Fair grounds, it threw off sparks and flashes of blue flame.

I<>n the passing months Ed became immersed in a variety of school activities. Starting from his plebe year, his interest in football had increased until, after successive semesters, he had made the team. As cadet sergeant major he was evidently responsible for preparing the football lineups. On November 18, 1893, in the game between Michigan Military Academy and Ypsilanti, the lineup lists ^"Left-H.B. — Burroughs." His friend Bob Lay was scheduled to play fullback, and Bert Weston was right tackle. The name Ed Burroughs, together with his rank, is stamped officially at the bottom of the lineup, The score was MMA, 36, Ypsilanti, 22.

The Adjutant, the academy's monthly magazine, reports Ed playing mainly quarterback and on one occasion right end. An article about the games in The Adjutant tells of the contest between the school and Ypsilanti Normal, with the final score "Academy 24; Normals, 10." Ed is given credit for making one touchdown.

In The Adjutant, Senior Number, June 1895, Ed is placed on the Champion Prep School Team of the West, 1894. Statistics show him as ^"Captain, age 19, weight 169, height 5 feet, 10 ½ in., position Quarter Back." In the December 1895 issue, a listing is again made of a championship team of the year; Ed is shown as "Captain-Quarterback, Height 5-10, Weight 165, Age 20 years, 4 mos."

<>About his football playing Ed wrote:

I made the football team, which I captained the last two years. We had an unusually good prep school team, cleaning up everything in our class and a number of teams that were out of our class. About the only teams that could beat us were such teamsas Notre Dame and the University of Michigan, and at that we once held to a tie score the University of Michigan team that had held Harvard 4 to 0.

"... In those days," Ed noted, "it was a national football upset of the first magnitude, and our showing against this great Michigan team was equally as remarkable. I know that one of the results was that I was offered flattering inducements to come to Michigan after I graduated from Orchard Lake." Because his brothers George and Harry were graduates of Yale, he had made that college his first choice; as a result, he rejected the Michigan offer.

But his interests were not limited to sports. He would always find a fascination in drawing, even if his sketches and humorous figures were done only occasionally in letters or in moments of relaxation. In addition, as at Phillips Academy, he could not resist the lure of the school magazine. In The Adjutant for October, November, and December 1895, Ed, now a second lieutenant, headed the list of ten editors. It is assumed that he was editorin-chief or managing editor. The Adjutant for January, February, and March of 1896 again displays the name ^"Lieutenant E. R. Burroughs" above a group of ten other editors. He had returned, to the academy after graduation.

The launching of a newspaper, The Military Mirror, may have been one of Ed's projects. Volume 1, number 1, is dated January 30, 1894, and on the editorial page the paper is described as "a journal devoted to the Interests of Cadets and ex-Cadets of the Michigan Military Academy." Printed beneath are the names Lt. Burt Barry, Lt. Chas. H. Campbell, Lt. Ed. R. Burroughs, editors. Of interest is the fact that the paper was called The Mirror, reminiscent of the Phillips Academy publication to which he had contributed.

By the end of 1893 a continuing improvement in his studies was evident. On December 20 a faculty member, C. Leslie Lewis, wrote a letter of commendation to Ed's father:

<>At the close of the first session of our school year, I take pleasure in speaking of the good record which your son has made here this year. In spite of the fact that we of the faculty are marking closer than ever before, yet Cadet Burroughs has carried heavy work, and maintained a high standing. <> 

<>
Lewis reported Ed's marks: "Physics 87; French 86; Rhetoric 92; Military Science 90; Junior Rhetoricals 92; giving him an average of 89.4 % . His deportment marks show that he has 16 merits to his credit. We look upon him as one of our best boys."

Ed's marks were in the 60s and 70s at Harvard School, but only three years later show remarkable improvement. He had not, however, become totally angelic. He couldn't resist the temptation to indulge in wild pranks. The wildest of all escapades, one which Ed described amusedly as ^"the means for breaking the monotony of the long Michigan winters in barracks," was a contrived incident involving Ed and First Lieutenant Charles H. Campbell. "We had quarreled," Ed wrote, "and were not on speaking terms. It occurred to one of us that we might make capital out of our well known dislike for one another. . . ." There is little question about the identity of the "one of us" to whom the idea occurred. On an evening when Ed was officer of the day there was a "prearranged altercation in front of the battalion after it had formed for mess."

The affair, on December 11, 1893, is detailed in Ed's Auto-biography:  <>
. . . Just before assembly sounded for supper, at a time when the entire corps of cadets was in front of barracks, Campbell made some insulting remark to me and I struck him across the face with my glove, whereupon we immediately mixed, but were presently separated by our friends, one of whom, First Lieutenant Barry, took me into his room until assembly had sounded.  <>

The plan had been for some of the cadets to break up the fight, ". . . but unfortunately for us,^" Ed wrote, "they were more interested in watching the scrap than in stopping it. Someone finally interfered, much to our relief. ...^"

Later that evening Campbell's second, Captain Risser, delivered the expected challenge:

  <>Sir: For having grossly insulted me in the presence of witnesses and without provocation, I claim it as a right, if you are possessed of any honor, to meet at the earliest possible opportunity and give me the satisfaction my insult demands.

Yours Very Respect. Charles H. Campbell"

  <>In reply, Ed sent his second, Lieutenant Barry, to arrange the details. Someone decided that the weapons should be Springfield rifles at fifty paces. There is some confusion as to who made the choice, but in one account Ed notes, "I . . . being the challenged party, selected the weapons. . . .^" They ran into difficulties with Risser, who, Ed observed, was a "solid, substantial sort of chap of a serious turn of mind . . . endowed with a little intelligence, with the result that he positively refused to have anything to do with the matter, and threatened to report the whole thing to the commandant immediately if we did not drop it."  Reluctantly, they were forced to let Risser in on the joke; he was then willing to play his part. Captain Buel, selected as referee, was also aware that the whole incident was a hoax.
<>
<>The duel was to take place at Cass Lake on the ice, about a mile from the academy, at 4:20 Tuesday afternoon. Among the cadets the news of the duel spread rapidly and the entire school was in a fever of excitement. ". . . Why the authorities heard no inkling of it," Ed wrote, "I have never been able to guess, except that the entire corps of cadets was so anxious to see blood shed that none of them wanted to let the powers that be have an opportunity to prevent the meeting.^"  <>

Wild rumors spread throughout the school. Ed was approached in haste by a friend who informed him that Campbell's group was planning to murder him during the night. The cadet wished to sleep in Ed's room to protect him, and was only dissuaded when Ed explained that he was a light sleeper and would keep a loaded revolver within reach. The "old boys" at the school, determined to keep the entertainment to themselves, had informed the plebes that they were not permitted to watch the event. "But when I approached the field of honor on that bleak Michigan winter morning," Ed wrote, "the bare trees all around the shore of the lake were decorated with plebes who had sneaked off limits ahead of us and gained points of vantage at the ringside.^"

At 4:00 p.m. Ed had jumped out of the back window of his barracks, and accompanied by his second, started for the "field of honor." Ahead of them, several cadets were carrying the guns. As Ed turned to look at the school, he observed, with satisfaction, that there was a string of cadets "a mile long" following him. The important details of the duel were taken care of: the cartridges were blanks and Ed carried a "bloodied" handkerchief in his blouse.

Shortly afterward some of Campbell's group could be seen hurrying toward the chosen spot. Ed's friends began to shake hands with him and bid him goodbye; overcome at the prospect of his death, several burst into tears. But when the group arrived, headed by Captain Risser, Campbell's second, it was evident that Ed's opponent was not among them. Risser reported that someone had blabbed to the commandant, that Campbell had been placed under arrest and locked up. The commandant, Lieutenant Frederick F. Strong of the 4th Artillery, a West Pointer, sent a very peremptory order to Ed: he was to report to the office immediately. "It was a long, cold walk back to school," Ed wrote. "I would much sooner have faced Campbell with Springfields at twenty paces than to have faced the Commandant, and when I entered his office and saw his face I realized that my judgment was still perfectly good." Ed never forgot Strong's reaction:

  <>. . . He was terrible upset by what had occurred and by the extremely narrow margin by which a bloody tragedy had been averted, for Springfield rifles at fifty paces in the hands of boys who knew how to use them would have meant sudden death for at least one of the principals.  

I could see that he was laboring under a great nervous strain and it was with difficulty that he controlled his natural feelings, which I imagine would have prompted him to turn me over his knee and spank me, but as was his custom, he asked me for my story and listened to it, though somewhat impatiently when I told him that the whole thing had been a joke.

<>Strong asked Ed if discharging Springfield rifles at one another at fifty paces was his idea of a joke. The incident had been so well planned that Ed had difficulty in convincing Strong that it was a hoax. Fortunately, he was able to show Strong the blank cartridges and the white handkerchief stained with red ink. "... He was so relieved," Ed wrote, "that we all got off with a simple reprimand and a warning to put a curb in the future on our peculiar senses of humor. But the worst was yet to come. When the cadets learned the truth they wanted to mob us and for a while we were far from being the most popular members of the corps."

On December 15, 1893, soon after the "duel,^" he wrote a letter to his mother. Both she and his father had evidently written to mention their concern about him and the absence of any news from him. He expressed his regret and said he was in good health, except for "that tired feeling." Then, with pride, he proceeded to give the details of the hoax, telling the story gleefully.

"Campbell, Barry and I started the joke and made all the arrangements before hand, practiced our parts, faked some cartridges etc.," he wrote. Toward the end of the letter he admitted that when the hoax was revealed, "the fellows wanted to kill us both." But he added that ^"The Lieut. [Commandant Strong] thought it was the best joke he had ever heard of and laughed as much as any one."

At Orchard Lake he had what he described as his "first, last and only stage experience." The cadets formed a company to present a play titled "The End of His Tether.^" After a school performance the company went on the road during the Easter vacation. The only impression that remained with him, outside of the fact that the play was a "terrible flop," was a most vivid one about the incredible whiskers he wore:

<>They were a full set fastened to a wire, the ends of which curved over my ears, thus, supposedly, holding the hirsute appendage properly in place, a fact which they accomplished in theory only, since, when I started to speak my lines, my breath blew the whiskers outward until they were suspended at an angle of forty-five degrees and I was talking beneath them.  <>

Of the towns where the cadet actors appeared, Flint, Michigan, was especially memorable. ". . . we played to an audience consisting of the owner of the theater and a couple of members of his family. There was not a paid admission and the only reason the owner was there was because he had to be in order to turn out the lights and lock the doors when we had departed."

When financial matters reached a crisis, the familiar telegram, a duplicate of numerous others sent home by unsuccessful thespians, was dispatched to George Burroughs: "Wire five show busted Hotel Vincent Saginaw."

The year 1894 brought no change in Ed's penchant for ignoring the rules and getting into trouble. An extract of "Special Order No. 49," issued on April 12, contained serious charges:

<>For gross neglect of duty as Officer of the Day on the 11th Inst. Cadet 2nd Lieut. Burroughs is hereby reduced to the ranks and confined to "Reduced Limits" until June 10, 1894.
By order of Col. Rogers 

R. S. Spilman 2nd Lieut. M.M.A. Adjutant

Ed's father was undoubtedly notified of this; but he received a further shock when Rogers' letter of April 17 referred to "Special Orders No. 52." It was Rogers' "unpleasant duty" to forward an extract of these orders to Burroughs. The Colonel stated, ^"Your son has doubtless written you the particulars of his offense. If not, I will write you fully, explaining to you his breach of discipline."

In a reply to Rogers, dated April 20, George Burroughs exhibited mixed emotions of anguish and helplessness. He refers to the "Special Orders" enclosed in Rogers' letter:

I need not tell you that its contents brought to me humiliation and pain. What more can I say? My Son knows what I expect of him, his sense of duty to his school and his parents should guide all his actions, and make him obedient to every rule. I do not know what, if anything, I can do in the premises? If he will not obey, he must take the consequences, and his parents must suffer with him.

But he could not conceal a fear about the extent of his son's punishment:

He has not written home about the matter, and I will thank you to explain fully to me in what his "neglect of duty" consisted, and also what you mean in "Orders" when you say "Confined to reduced limits". I hope it does not mean confinement in his room for such a long time when we are likely to have hot weather. His offense must have been great, if a reduction to the ranks would not be regarded sufficient punishment.

Ed's offense, as described by Rogers on April 23, was almost beyond the bounds of any that the colonel had ever encountered at the academy. While on duty as officer-of-the-day, Ed had "not only permitted but encouraged one of the cadets to assault one of the cadet officers whom he relieved but a few moments before for official acts done in the performance of his duty and in accordance with the commands of the Commandant; i.e., he reported this man for smoking."

Rogers stressed that he found it very humiliating to even admit that "such a disgraceful breach of discipline could take place in this Academy.^" He ended with a softer note, adding that "while it is a severe lesson for your son, I am pleased to say that he seems to consider the punishment merited and is faithfully attending to his duties."

The colonel's belief that Ed, considering himself at fault, had turned contrite, was clearly contradicted in the indignant letter George Burroughs received from his son. On April 20 Ed wrote to explain that he had hesitated to tell his side of the story because he didn't wish to upset them. After reflection he had decided that they would feel much worse if they heard the story from "some other source and without knowing the details."

  <>The account, as Ed gave it, involved one of his friends, Second Lieutenant Ed Rohrbaugh. On April 10 Lieutenant F. B. Ward, officer-of-the-day, was making his customary inspection tour when he saw Rohrbaugh leaning out of a window. "I was also in the room," Ed wrote, "but he says he didn't see me. We had gone in there to call to a cadet in the area." According to Ed, Ward didn't like Rohrbaugh, was quick to assume he was smoking, a violation of rules, and reported him.

The next day, Ed explained, when he was O.D., he saw Rohrbaugh follow Ward up to his room, and, alerted to possible trouble between the two, hurried upstairs after them. It seems plain that Rohrbaugh and Ward were quarreling, and that Rohrbaugh, angry at being reported, made some threats. Ward said he would tell the colonel if "anyone did anything to him." Rohrbaugh then lost his temper and struck Ward in the chest.

Ed, as officer-of-the-day and peacemaker, stepped in to prevent any more blows, and the two men "appeared to cool off." Carrying out his duty, Ed claimed, he reported Rohrbaugh for striking Ward. But unfortunately he couldn't refrain from taking his friend's side and in telling Ward off, including some threats of his own, that Ward "would have to settle with me for some things he had said. . . ." The reference was obviously to some four-letter words which Ed said he couldn't write.

In the meetings with the faculty and administration after the incident, Ed explained to his father that he talked to them "the way I would to you if I were in trouble." He told them not only what he "honestly thought" but also that he despised Ward. "I didn't use any tact," he confessed. "I didn't think I had to, I believed that justice would be given by them, the same way that you would see justice done. It turned out however that I was running down a favorite of the Colonel and Lt. Strong. . . ." Ed said that later Colonel Rogers called him a liar and Rohrbaugh a bully and coward.

In continuing his story, Ed told how all the other cadets gave their support to him. When the order reducing him to the ranks was read in the mess hall, there was a commotion, and "the whole battalion . . . began to hiss and cry `Lynch him', and `Kill him,' meaning Ward." Later, when Ward was Officer-of-the-Guard, "the men cut pillows up and threw them at him and spit on him and stepped on him and cryed, `Drag him out' and `Lynch him.' It was because the Col. and Comm't liked that . . . man better than they did me that I was reduced." The faculty appeared to be on Ed's side:

Rohrbaugh and I came very nearly being fired, the Col. and Lieut Strong wanted to but most of the younger profs didn't so they compromised. A man said to one of the profs the day I went down that he didn't see why I was reduced and the Prof said. "I'll be darned if I do either."

Ed devoted a section of his letter to urging his parents not to get discouraged, while at the same time making no attempt to conceal his own gloomy attitude:

Please don't feel sorry for me. I have enough sand in me to take my punishment, however unjust without grumbling (too much) but if I could only feel that you and mother hadn't lost confidence in me again on acct of this; it wouldn't be so hard. I have not shown that I felt injured by my reductions. I have done what I thought you would want me to do, braced up and done what I thought would put me on the road to work up all over again. I have been on guard twice and rec'd orderly to the commanding Officer for being the neatest man and having the cleanest gun in the guard.

Toward the end of the letter he found it difficult to control his emotions:

I think I have rec'd no demerits since my reductions, I have studied just as hard if not harder. And I tell you Father its not for myself I am doing it, either, as far as I am concerned I don't give two whoops in hades whether school keeps or not. I am both home-sick and discouraged, because it looks as though a fellow never could get up again, when he had all headquarters to buck against ...

He signed himself "Your affect. son,^" using his full name, Ed R. Burroughs, and placing his new, reduced rank beneath in a kind of bitter defiance: "Cadet Private Co. A."

Obviously, his reduction to ranks affected him very deeply; his hurt and resentment were strong because he believed that the punishment was unjustified and that prejudice was involved. Unable to find a release for his anger and frustration, he turned to one of his favorite pastimes — cartooning. On a piece of cardboard he drew a tombstone in a pyramidal shape. In the center he printed his own version of his sentence, giving it the appearance of an epitaph:

April 12, 1894 — Cadet 2nd Lieut. Ed. R. Burroughs, Company "A", is hereby reduced to the ranks and confined to reduced limits until the 10th of June 1894, for "Alleged^" gross neglect of duty while Officer of the Day. By Col J. S. Rogers and Lt. F. S. Strong without the sanction of the Faculty of M.M.A. . .