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Golf is No Ordinary Game | Extraordinary Tales by G. Guilford Barton

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He tapped in for birdie from there to move to 3-under. Tiger Woods has played the last four holes of the first round of the Masters, U. Open and Open Championship 12 combined holes in a whopping 7-over, each time turning a respectable and solid start to the major into a position where he has to fight from too far back. Good point, though I wouldn't qualify being a half-dozen strokes behind as "too far back" right now.

Woods was 5 back after Round 1 of the Masters and 10 back after the opening day at Bethpage, finishing in a share of sixth place each time. He has some ground to make up, but it's hardly impossible right now. Ben Curtis' 65 ties his lowest round at an Open. He shot a 65 in the final round in at Carnoustie. When he won the Claret Jug at Royal St. George's in , he broke 70 only once Curtis has become a very good player -- especially at majors -- but he's a guy who tends to fare better when par is a good score as opposed to a guy who can consistently go low.

He has played well at the British in the past -- in addition to his win, he has finished eighth or better in each of the last two years -- but if conditions remain benign and he needs to shoot, say, under par to win, I don't necessarily like his chances. On a tougher course in windy weather, though, Curtis could very well stick around until the end. So we heard about the Pimento sandwiches at Augusta. What's the media spread like at the Open Championsip?

Blood pudding and haggis? Went with the fish and chips each of the last two days, which was pretty solid. Never got a chance to get out there for my hot carved salt beef bap earlier, so I settled for a plain ol' sandwich instead. There is some blood pudding, though I haven't brought myself to eat something with that name. Even if it did get this recommendation from Ryo Ishikawa: Padraig Harrington hasn't finished in the top 10 in a dozen PGA Tour starts this season, he has missed the cut in his last five major tour appearances, and he's undergoing some major swing renovations.

When asked about his game the other day, the two-time defending champion said, "I would say it's very sketchy, obviously. Not really showing much form in the last couple of weeks. Not really knowing what to expect. I could only be hopeful, rather than expectant, to put in a good performance this week. We'll wait and see how that comes in. So it should only make sense that through 11 holes, Harrington is shooting a bogey-free 1-under round so far.

Between him and Tom Watson and Paul Casey and David Howell who is also on the leaderboard despite poor recent results , it just goes to show that previous form matters very little when players tee it up at the Open. Experience has a three-shot advantage over form every time. Who brings the biggest support if they are in the hunt on Sunday: Daly, McIlroy, Monty, Watson? Each one of them would have plenty of backing from the fans. On the surface, I'd go with Watson, but Ontymay in his native Scotland?

That may set off a bigger frenzy among the local folks. Heard in the media center: While Todd Hamilton is currently 7-over through 13 holes, Ben Curtis just finished a dozen shots better, recording a par on the final hole to post a 5-under 65 and tie Tom Watson as the clubhouse leader so far. Watson and Curtis actually have something uncommon in common: They each won the British Open in their first appearance.

When he came off the course nearly five hours ago, Tom Watson said he would be surprised if 65 held up as the best round of the day. Well, in the span of two minutes, he just went from sole leader to one of three at the top. Soren Hansen through 13 holes and champion Ben Curtis through 17 each just posted birdies to move to 5-under. That's further confirmation that the afternoon conditions aren't any more difficult than they were this morning.

After I wrote that Goose could be cooked at a moment's notice, Retief makes a bogey. Back to 2-under for the round. What do you think of Monty at 1-under through 10? Should you pig latin him like Duval at the U. Open to beat the blog jinx? Ontymay has made bogeys on three of his last four holes, dropping from 1-under through 10 to 2-over after How often can it be said that Tiger Woods is playing in a tournament where he has currently only the third-best score out of players with the initials TW?

I'll even throw in Anthony "Tony" Wall, though I'm not sure anyone calls him that. Here's a stat for you: Of the 14 players in the field whose last name begins with "W," Woods is currently ranked T-8 on the leaderboard. That's nice and everything, but recent history has shown us that the Goose can be cooked at a moment's notice.

While in contention during the final round of last week's Scottish Open, he had a five-hole stretch in which he posted one four-putt, three three-putts and a chunked chip. The weather is ripe for a run, When the rain comes it won't be fun, Will Watson turn cold, And show us he's old, Or have another "Duel in the Sun"? First John Daly reference of the day, but he's finally done something worth mentioning -- and yes, it's a good something.

With an eagle on No. Very Daly-like round so far. And yes, he's having a crazy round while wearing another one of those crazy outfits, too. Click here to see what he went with today.

Jason Sobel's live blog

His 5-under 65 tied the lowest first round in the majors he has played also did this when he led the U. This includes 32 British Opens, 35 Masters, 30 U. Opens, and 31 PGA Championships. In all, Watson has posted eight scores of 65 in career major championship rounds, with four of them coming at Turnberry. Keeping an eye on the BBC feed, which is always terrific, but I do need to make one point For all those fans in the U.

Over here, barely a minute passes without flashing Rory McIlroy up on the screen. I wouldn't be surprised if every one of his shots has been shown live so far today. The second-highest-ranked player in this week's field is And he's playing like it, too. The Englishman just posted an eagle at No. He's since followed with a par on 8. After missing the cut in three straight events, including the U. Open, this is a welcome return to form for Casey. That's about 10 times better than my lame joke. But at least I have a theme song. Speaking of more random players, here's an e-mail from Eric in Parts Unknown with the subject header "Ocho Cinco Scare":.

I've gotta admit, even though I cover this sport full-time and get paid to know things like this, there are a handful of players in this week's field that I've never heard of before. One of 'em is currently at 3-under on the final hole. His name is Branden Grace and, well, here's what I just found in his player bio:.

Isn't this a tournament where big numbers are supposed to reign in the rain? No mention of Boo Weekley toward the top??? I bet he won't tweet, has got the more beer part down, and eats Aleve like Skittles after riding the pony down the fairway. That's 3-for-3 on your prerequisites for Open Championship contention. During last week's Scottish Open, the fisherman said he might "get his rod out and try and land Nessie," a reference to the Loch Ness Monster. While most of the leaders are already in the clubhouse, it doesn't appear that playing conditions are getting any more difficult here in the afternoon.

There's a slight breeze coming through, which is more than the non existent wind of earlier this morning, but it's hardly enough to affect the pros too much. I realize we are missing some of the usual anchors of the live blog such as limericks, haikus, etc. I don't have those, but I do have some prop bets to start the festivities: And yes, there's a 95 percent chance I only posted that e-mail because it came from Istanbul. From Brooke in Wisconsin:. Tom Watson is so old When requesting an interview with Thomas Watson, you should call him on your cell and say: I want to see you.

Have you given any thought to how much longer you might play as a past champion? I'm restricted to age 60, which comes up in September, so I'll be playing St. That will be my last Open Championship, unless I play well at St. Andrews or play well here and maybe have a sixth championship under my belt after Sunday. Now, that would be a story, wouldn't it? Again, that's from yesterday, prior to the opening round. Don't think this is some "just happy to be here" type of guy. TW is intent on winning this thing. As of right now, a past champion can't play past the age of If Watson wins at 59, that doesn't necessarily mean he would be eligible at 61, unless some provisions were implemented.

But he would still be eligible to play the Masters, U. Open and PGA Championship with their 5-year exemptions that go to each year's winner. It also may have been a pain in the neck. He was just rubbing and stretching his neck, looks to be in obvious discomfort. Don't expect to be getting any updates from TomWatson59 any time soon.

From his post-round news conference:.

Golf is No Ordinary Game | Extraordinary Tales by G. Guilford Barton

I'm not sure what's more impressive today, if it's your score or someone of your age can actually send text messages. Don't ask me to twit or tweet. In today's round, there are already 16 players in the clubhouse at 2-under or better and eight others currently on the course at that score. Earlier in the blog, I mentioned that Ian Poulter Twittered himself this morning. Well, it's been mentioned that his outfit today matches the rug.

Ryo Ishikawa or Rory McIlroy? I don't want to leave the blog for even a minute We've had the sexty and the septy, so what is Anthony Kim's 9? After playing in the amateur ranks for a time he accepted the place of professional at Danville, and then at La Grange. He was Lieutenant J.

In Other Words: The Book of Proverbs.
Uncle Boo and Me.
Numbers Game;
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Sweet Passage (Silent Prophet Book 1)?
New Perspectives on Emotions in Finance: The Sociology of Confidence, Fear and Betrayal (Routledge International Studies in Money and Banking).

Robert McNulty in the war. He gave up professional golf and has been reinstated as an amateur. One day we were over near the sandhole across the tracks, and Bobbie had a new iron club. I don't know whether it belonged to him or to one of the other boys, but we were watching him and telling him to swing as hard as possible.

In my zeal I stood a little too near and the iron caught me just above the eye, completely laying me out. I was taken into the club- house and Dr. Henry Hooper, who happened to be playing there, gave me first aid and then once more I was carried home to my mother by the big boys. She must have concluded then that there was no place or occupation safe for me. Our family physician, Dr. Paul Hullhorst, who had just released me as a patient a few months before, was called upon for a little more practice on me.

Bobbie's older brother was one of the boys who brought me home. He deserves a little tribute here. Of all the Old Edgewater caddies he gave promise of becoming the best golfer. He was a great favorite with the mem- bers, and whenever the professional went out to play he always took Louis. His death a few years later at the early age of fifteen years was deeply mourned at Edgewater.

The kids living at the north end of the club grounds had taken quickly to the idea of making money so pleasantly and abundantly as seemed possible at Edge- 38 Chick Evans' Golf Book water, and in a very little while we were all " going down to the chib," as we called it. The big boys, of course, got the cream of everything, and they were already playing a little on the conrse after caddying time when the professional was not looking.

I think that it must have been about this time that the club decided to get a caddie master and to " cor- ral " the boys. There was a high board fence on the Devon Avenue side with two entrances, a small one for the house supplies and a large one for the members. We were given a right to the lesser and a place inside was set aside for us.

In time there was a shelter in ease of rain, and also some benches on which we carved our initials. A professional's shop, the caddie master's house and a tool shop formed one boundary of it. Each year a few improvements were added but land was scarce and the area remained the same. The caddie yard had a putting course — five holes — each one well worn around the top. Many a close match was played there at a penny a hole, and no national championship could ever be more exciting. Saturday mornings were always the time for the big events. There was a noisy crowd of spectators, and plenty of gratuitous advice, abuse and general information was handed out to the contestants.

Not infrequently Turpie and the chef would break up the game on account of the noise. I'm no longer a caddie, nor wee sma" laddie, Nor's the world so eternally new; Life's not wholly a game, yet my hope is the same And my hands seek the best they can do. Caddies are like all other boys, and grown-ups too, for that matter. Mostly they follow the leaders. If any man looks back over his boyhood days he will recall that some one boy, much to the admiration of the others, " ran " things.

I believe that I was usually the head of a gang of boys of my own age. Only the big boys subdued me. In football, baseball and other games I was always trying to lead the way, perhaps not so much that I wanted to lead as that I did not want anybody to boss me, and the price of my services, and they had a well- defined value, was a finger in the management.

I think that was the reason that I had my scrap with Art 39 40 Chick Evans' Golf Book Graham over our local baseball team, and that tilt probably meant golf as a life game for me. We were both in the seventh grade, and we were playing " hookey " from school one afternoon.

The biggest building going up at that time in Kogers Park was the Congregational Church, and there of course we climbed the scantlings and jumped the holes in the full joy of this forbidden vacation. The reason we two boys chummed, I think, was because we were both inclined to " run " the local sports. I forget now what inconsequential thing started that row high up in that church but I was angry and so was he, and we split, and I decided that I wasn't going to play on that Rogers Park team any more.

We climbed down from our place on the structure by different routes, through brick and mortar, and went upon our separate ways. The other boys begged me to go back, but that after- noon I had immediately headed for the club, and con- cluded that golf was my best love after all. It was perhaps this little incident that limited my playing of other games in which I had shown ability, and turned me decidedly to golf. It was astonishing how kind the members of the Edge water Club were to the boys in those early days, long before the caddie " reformation " of the present time.

The old clubhouse itself was small and unpre- tentious, and of course there was no room in the caddie yard for many of the things now deemed necessary for the welfare of the caddies, but the members all seemed solicitous of our happiness. The boys were generously treated in the matter of playing. Each year we had a tournament and each A Parting of the Ways 41 Monday morning up to 10 o'clock we were allowed to play on the course.

I have to confess that our play- ing was not limited to this generous allowance. The second hole went due north for six hundred yards, and it was on the green of this hole, very near my own home, and yet not visible from it that many a putting match was played, often lasting well into the night, a handkerchief being used to mark the hole. The caddies at Bdgewater were composed of several widely -differing groups of boys. The Edge- water boys thought themselves a little better than the Rogers Park and we in turn considered ourselves a little better than the Clark street crowd.

I think, too, that with just a few exceptions the skill of the caddies was graduated by the location of their homes. For instance, those who live-d on Southport, now Glenwood Avenue which faced the grounds, played better than those who lived farther to the north or west, and those in their turn better than those who lived up on Clark Street, and the latter had the edge on those in Edgewater.

I have been so impressed by this fact that I have never failed, since the Old Edge- water moved, to live near a golf course during the playing season. Certainly those cad-dies who lived nearest the old links played best because they were able to take more practice shots. One of the exceptions of the early days was Joe Morheiser, who lived over on Ravenswood Avenue, near the railroad tracks. Some- times Joe would play up to the Birches with us and back again if he had enough time. Very few of the kids had clubs when they first began, but whenever a fellow had one he was always swinging it unless working, and I kept mine busy.

I think that I must have swung it a million times, and those first million swings happened to be wrong. Like all golfers we often came home late to meals, being delayed by a fiercely contested match on the last green. The stakes were a soda. Joe Morheiser once won sundaes from the crowd in the caddie yard, and yet he had to buy his own at the drug store that night. It was always better to owe a fellow than to beat him out of it. For some reason very few Jewish boys came to caddy at Old Edgewater, and none of them learned to play golf.

The reason may have been that in those early days the older boys, being as I know from sad experi- ence unregenerate gentiles, systematically discouraged the offspring of a thrifty and industrious race; but, whatever the cause, few came. Over on the corner, just outside the prohibition dis- trict of Rogers Park, were two saloons, and the one belonging to Joe Miller, although it did not have the better location, seemed to enjoy the more lucrative business. I remember him as a very entertaining chap, always headed for a good job and most actively " nursing " A Parting of the Ways 43 it when a good tip was in sight.

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It was a great experience. The tee bunkers are nearly always in view, and, if the line be kept, there are few which are not visible while playing the shot intended to carry them. Don't ask me to twit or tweet. George's Golf Club will never lack money or enterprise to provide for any demand for extension that may be made. Again, that's from yesterday, prior to the opening round. The year-old from India shot a 1-over 71, but that hardly tells the whole story. Her name was Helen Reedy.

Nearly all of us North End kids had clubs that we kept with us constantly. They were our greatest treas- ures and it would never have done to leave them around in the caddie yard if we ever expected to see them again. I even took mine to my bedroom at night, partly to keep it from my brother and partly to protect myself from burglars.

Not that I had anything that a burglar would care to steal but there was always a chance that he might not know that. Two clubs head downward were really needed to keep the old caddie bags properly balanced, and it was my habit to so place the niblick and my own club. It was safer to keep that club with head down for there was many a player to whose swing I could never have trusted my pet club. I was often asked how I was able to distinguish my club from the niblick when I could not see the heads.

The question made me laugh for there was nothing easier for me than distinguishing grips by the sense of touch. His " greenness " was evident as a " rookie " in camp. The usual rule then was to put the strap criss-cross over both shoulders. As a consequence the inexperi- enced kid stumbled, all around when the heavy heads drew the bag nose downward. Now the manufacturers place the straps more intelligently and the experienced A Parting of the Ways 45 caddie has ne longer a reason for snickering at the green one. I made a study of caddying, however, from the begin- ning and I tried to do everything that I saw the experi- enced boy do, and if I could think out anything that seemed better I did that, too.

It was easy for me to learn quickly the names of all the clubs, and I noticed, too, that the members had different ways of taking them for the next shot. When they called for them I got so that, without looking, I could just feel for the right club and hand it out. Many caddies pulled out the club and thrust the cold iron into the player's hand. I made a point of dusting off the head of the club and handing the grip to the player. Perhaps because my mother was from the South and all southern children do it, I was always careful to say, ' ' Yes, sir, ' ' and ' ' No, sir, ' ' and I always addressed them as " Mr.

I was no model of politeness in the caddie yard, far from it, but my manners changed immediately on the other side of the fence. When it came to shining clubs I was as good as any, if not the best of the crowd. Caddies no longer do this, yet they still think that they are obliged to work too hard. I really like the polishing. It was sport for me to work on them till they shone. It was pleasant to me to go out in the yard and sit on the carved benches and do my shining with all the kids talking 46 Chick Evans' Golf Book at once about their man's game, and what happened on the last round.

The other day I found in an old suitcase two caddie badges. They were the only numbers I had during my life as a caddie, although I was on the job for five more years, which meant that numbers were given out in when I was ten years old. My first number was As it was connected with much happiness in my life, I have had many supersti- tions about it and, strange to relate, events have some- what justified them.

Years afterwards when in impor- tant tournaments, I usually asked for locker number 56, and this happened to be the number of my locker at Minikahda when I won the National Open, and began so auspiciously the season of Even now, for sentiment's sake, I usually try to get Caddie No. Each year we were asked if we still had the badges and I was kept on that number.

I usually wore it on the peak of my cap, even when I went to school, or to the shops on Clark Street in Rogers Park, which was our equivalent to " going to town. The news that they were going to give out new badges had swept the caddie yard like fire. When the caddie master opened the parcel each boy's heart beat fast, but none faster than mine when No. When the caddie master was at Edgewater we were required, to register and that meant merely registering your number. The caddie master often hardly knew our names.

I can hear him say now: Even the members knew us chiefly by numbers, but some wanted to know our names, and as time passed I came out of the number class and was " Chick " and " 56 " in the same breath. Occasionally caddies came down from Evanston and one such visit is deeply impressed upon my mind. The newcomer was one of the toughest boys that we had encountered. He had accompanied an Evanston man, E. Ide, I think, who was entered in a tournament. He played a good game with a cross-handed grip and was playing against C. Rogers, for whom I was caddying. It is needless to emphasize the fact that I was eager for my man to win.

The Evanston kid was what we called " downright mean," and he soon insolently informed me that he was to get a dollar extra if his man won. He began by insisting that I take every one of the flags, notwith- standing that it is a sacred caddie law to go fifty-fifty in a single match and twenty-five — twenty-five in a foursome. When we took some of the " caddie short-cuts " the 48 Chick Evans' Golf Book Evanston cad-die spent the time swearing at me because I had pulled for my man to hole out. Once when my man went into the long grass he stepped on our ball. It did him no good because I was watching for just such a performance, and easily found it, but I was beginning to get angry through and through.

Never in my life had I cheated for my man, having a great belief in fair play. Of course, the golfers them- selves, as a general rule, never realized the result of their good-natured generosity. Almost always these caddies cheated on the lie. Some of them were very clever with their feet. In the meantime the two players were placidly unaware of the raging enmity in the hearts of their club bearers — their own rivalry being nothing in com- parison.

The game kept very close as it went along. Several times I saw the caddie get in back of Mr. Rogers' line of putt, and I wondered that he did not complain. Take a good look at the little gray sweater. It was Evans' mascot in his march to victory in the Western Open golf championship. A Parting of the Ways 49 during the whole round. Evidently an idea had struck him. Rogers ' approach putt was a little short, and in going to hold the flag for the Evanston man the Evanston caddie had deliberately heeled Mr.

Rogers ' line of putt. The imprint was just enough to hold the ball short of the hole on my man's next putt and that meant that he was defeated. I saw the handshake of the players, and then the crisp dollar bill slide into the hands of the Evanston caddie. I also saw red. I was not angry because my man lost but because he had been cheated. The other caddie was larger than I but, throwing caution to the winds, I could not keep from telling him just what I had seen him do. He could hit hard but I hardly realized it at the time. The usual caddie ring was formed and there, near the sandhole, in the cool of the evening, Edgewater took on Evanston before a partisan crowd.

I did my best, but I might have been badly cut up if some of the members had not happened along and stopped the fight. Living near to a golf course gave to me, the slim, frail and small dweller in a large city, certain advan- tages that only country boys have, freed, too, from much of the drudgery that falls to their lot. Men and horses were necessary for the upkeep of the course, and there was a great fascination in the hay, the horses and the barns to the small boy with his ever-present club when he went a- visiting the groundsmen.

My particular friend was John, who was the all-year- around man for a long time, and was succeeded by Henry. He did it so carefully and so well. In the winter he used to cut down a few trees for the club fuel and that was another delightful occupation in which I shared. John had one weakness, — a passion for strong drink. He also had a safe guard, a wife. This meant that he drank under difficulties. Henry, John's successor, was not unfriendly, but he N was no conversationalist, and in consequence our rela- tions lacked intimacy. There was another John, too, and a Pete, just hired for the summer, for often as many as five or six men were needed to keep that course in trim.

I made my first acquaintance with Pete when I drove a full mashie from in front of Cole's house onto the second green. Pete and John were cutting the green, and my ball hit Pete as he was bending over. He was Polish, I believe, so I can't repeat what he said. He knew that I had done it because I had dropped those balls all around him before. It took a long while to square this, and in the meantime I did lots of little things for Pete. In spite of the fact that golf clubs could easily be turned into death-dealing instruments and strongly propelled golf balls might become missiles of death, when we consider the great and often careless use of both, serious accidents are not very numerous.

I recall some amusing ones, however. I was caddying one day for C. The latter player did not drive so long a ball as the others, while Mr. Allen always sent a straight ball down the center of the course. I went np to his ball without paying any particular attention to the other players, when, all of a sudden, Mr.

Gurley 's ball came whizzing along and hit me on the arm. Neither he nor I expected so long a shot. I dropped with a yell. The pain was slight, but the surprise was great, and I thought the only thing to do was to cry. Everyone gathered around me in sympathy, and poor Mr. Gurley was the most frightened and sympathetic of all. The only thing he could think of doing was to hold out a bright, new dollar bill, saying: My tears ceased flowing at once, and from that moment the black and blue spot on my arm meant nothing to me.

News travels swiftly in a caddie yard, and in. Within the next two or three weeks an amazing number of caddies were hit. It seemed that every one at the club was willing to risk life and limb for a dollar. After a time the casualties ceased. Whether the members had caught on or the boys had collected sufficient extra money I do not know. At another time I had a painless and peculiar acci- dent. I was walking quietly along a golf green when a smartly rolling ball carried away the heel of my shoe.

That incident shows what might happen on a golf course. My caddie days, however, really trained me 52 Chick Evans' Golf Book to great carefulness, and to that caution I attribute the fact that I have never hit any one. Perhaps I should knock on wood as I make the statement. He felt that he was being paid for making a pleasure trip. During these good old days the Edgewater Golf Club played several team matches each year. Among those that I recall was an annual event at Kacine, where my brother went and one at River Forest, a course no longer in existence. He was then fresh from Williams College, and famous in college baseball, and he could drive a golf ball a long, long ways.

At that time he was showing great promise as a player but for some reason dropped out of the game later on. Warren's clubs a very extra polish the night before the River Forest team match and I was an expert in the shining of clubs, one of the quickest and most careful of the caddies. I always carried two kinds of emery paper, the fairly rough and the smooth, in fact, emery paper seemed always to be oozing out of my pockets.

If Parsons Warren did not win his match at River Forest it was not because his clubs were not prop- erly shined and faced, for I took every precaution, and guarded them like a king's treasure. The match with Mr. Kettlestrings was very close. I simply agonized through it, I was so anxious for " Pat " to win, but he lost by a small margin.

Seaman came out and asked me if one of the Edgewater boys would take his clubs back to Edge- water. I was very glad of the chance, for it meant more money, and soon two bags and a small boy were humping along towards a home in Rogers Park. When the clubs were safely deposited at the clubhouse, I at last sat down to my supper at midnight. Before the advent of a caddie master at Edgewater each member engaged any caddie he wished, or perhaps more correctly, anyone he could get, and as a system of special caddying grew up, certain men always asked for particular boys whose work- pleased them.

This prob- ably was the wrong method, impossible in a large club, but out of it grew some of the pleasantest relationships of the links. In my own case it has meant many a life- long friendship inexpressibly precious to me. I believe that the first caddie master we had was named James McAfee. I do not remember him very well, but I think that he was really the club chef, and merely added caddie mastering to his other duties.

No doubt he would not have known me except for my stay- ing qualities. All that I can remember of him is that he was a big, fat, gruff fellow who favored the boys who could best peel potatoes and were willing to do that work. There was another one, a red-faced fellow who found liquid consolation for his many trials " down at the corner," a haven of retreat for many a caddie master. It is true that some caddies tried to be congenial, hoping for favors, but others were less considerate and some openly defied the boss of the yard. Only the few, however, were lawless. The rank and file were simply mischiev- ous.

At any rate we could not see the need of a caddie master, and I fear that we always resented his authority. There was one boy, " Hen " Carstens, a very good player, who was always known as " Valentine's Cad- die. Valentine was a fine man to caddy for, and was much beloved. Many and many a fierce argument " Hen " had with Sweeney, the caddie master, over Mr.

Valentine, but he always got him even if he had to go down to the corner and ride up with him. It must have been about that Bob McNulty, Everett Bartlett and I laid out seven holes at the north end of the course. We did not dare to go beyond the second sidewalk, because then we could be seen by the club members and the ' ' pro ' ' and would soon be chased off. We were very proud of the course but it possessed several extremely necessary limitations. Some of the holes were tin cans stuck in the ground and others merely worn places.

We did not dare to mark them even with sticks for obvious reasons. The longest hole was about yards, about a full shot for us in those days. Some of the holes were located in the long grass and we judged the distance by memory. Here on this diminutive course the " north-end fel- lows ' ' had many a battle as long as daylight lasted, and when darkness came we would putt awhile. Of course, we could only play very early in the morning or late 56 Chick Evans' Golf Book in the evening after the members had gone home. The caddies did not consider me a good player on the big course, but on the little one I held the record of Carlisle Smith, " Pete "as we called him, later a third baseman for Boston Nationals, was a strong caddie rival on this course.

The special advantage of these improvised links was that we could practice full shots here, instead of the eternal putting. The disadvantage of the course, how- ever, might have been deemed considerable by our elders. There was the constant danger of being discovered, and using handkerchiefs to mark the holes while playing in the dusky summer evenings was not exactly satisfactory, but the boys were enterprising and improvements were continually taking place.

Finally one of the big boys went to work for an electrical firm, and very soon we were gaily putting for electric-lighted holes. We prm- dently refrained from inquiring as to how he came by them. I think that it was in that I saw the first rubber- cored ball, an invention destined to play an important part in my life thereafter. I treasured that ball for a long time and I fancy that I still have it somewhere. I had long believed that it was the first rubber-cored ball ever played at Edgewater. Later I learned that at least two other Edgewater caddies made similar claims. Robert McNulty tells me that his brother Louis, who died in , owned the first Haskell ball ever played at Edgewater the inventor by the way was at one time a member of the Edgewater Club.

He says that it was not marked with any name, and looked like an old " re-made. Dyrenforth drove it over the fence on the second hole, and after Louis had finished caddying he went over and got it. Frank Douglass is equally certain that he possessed the first Haskell ever played at Edgewater, and I have long cherished the same belief about myself. I know that Henry Carstens had the first luminous ball, and, gee, how we envied him. The ball had belonged to J. He was trying it out in a game with E. I do not know the exact steps by which it came into " Hen's " possession, but I know exactly how it came into mine.

On one such occasion I was coming home rather late at night when the shining ball dropped near me, and it and I quickly disappeared in the darkness. I had longed for just such a miracle. It may be a question as to whether I really obtained the first rubber-core ball used at Edgewater, but the manner in which I made my first acquaintance with one is rather interesting. One fact is very plain, I had no money to buy one, and no real use for that particular kind of ball but its fame had spread through the caddie yard. It was on a Sunday afternoon that I saw Harry Turpie playing this new ball for the first time.

The other men playing with him were his brother George and two of the club members, P. I was not employed that day, but had saun- tered from my home looking for amusement on the links. Probably also I appeared more innocent than usual because I was wearing my Sunday clothes. I can recall to this day what a wonderful ball it was and how far it went off Turpie r s driver, and that excel- lent mashie player had to work hard to keep his approaches short of the hole. After a pretty drive on the sixth Turpie pulled a long second over the railroad tracks, or rather into the ditch over the fence near the tracks.

I saw just where it went and, believe me, I was good at knowing where a ball went when I was a caddie, for I seldom lost one. So I followed " Grubby," and then we all left on the run to get it for Turpie. All the time they were hunting I knew where the ball was — I could just see the little gleam of white deep down in a big bunch of grass on the embankment.

Every one thought that it was in the bottom of the ditch, and Good Heavens, how they did look for that ball! Finally I decided on a plan. I went right over and sat on it, remarking at the same time how tired I was. Then I slipped it under the rubber band of my blouse, and we looked some more.

I hit it quietly with my little cleek. How soft and sweet was the sound and whack of it. I was eleven years old and I thought I was getting even with Turpie and Grubbjr for past wrongs, and should have suffered the pangs of a guilty conscience, but I did not.

I thoroughly enjoyed having that ball and the manner in which I obtained it. It opened a new world to me, and I have always felt that Fate was particularly kind in sending me into the game at the big transition time from hard to soft balls. I am very grateful to Mr. One morning following a certain Halloween, Turpie, with blood in his eye, lined us all up preparatory to a general firing, for every movable object on the course had changed its place on the previous night.

The sand- boxes were on the railroad tracks, the flags were probably miles away, and when we looked around we hardly knew our own course. After a little lecture from Turpie, brimful of threats, a chastened and repentant crowd of boys went out, col- lected and carefully replaced the missing objects. For several years thereafter each October 31, before the shadows of Halloween began to fall, we put away every- thing on the course. It was a great deal of trouble, but it saved property.

Boys ' memories are short-lived, how- ever, and some years later when Turpie 's warning was forgotten, something serious, although at the same time humorous, occurred. I think that it must have been in or '03, when Chester Horton was professional and Tom Riley caddie master. The old second green was a fine target for a quick slice off the third tee and after Mr.

Pickrell, the club erected a wire screen from the tee to a point far enough along to protect the player on the green. On this Hal- loween we tore this down and distributed it widely. There really wasn 't anything funny about this, but some kid had suggested it and the rest of us concluded that it was a very humorous idea. One of the fellows saved part of it for a backstop on our baseball field. The rest of it was just thrown around.

When the members caught sight of this piece of vandalism they were very angry. One of the boys was caught. He told on the rest of us, and we were all taken to the Sheffield Avenue Police Station. I suppose the members by that time had come to the conclusion that we all needed a severe lesson. We boys were scared stiff, of course.

I had been very careful about not mentioning it at home until it was all over, but some of the boys, thinking that they were headed straight for prison cells, were accompanied by near and distant relatives. Some of the mothers were in tears. I think that we all confessed our share in the mischief and the older boys as usual tried to make it appear that the little ones were to blame.

The officials seemed to find the whole affair quite funny. There was a lawyer who asked me, much to the amusement of the judge, if I knew the difference between a cleek and a mashie, but we caddies could not even smile at that. Nothing was done to us, of course, but when we got outside no air ever seemed sweeter and freer, for we had been dreaming for many nights of big policemen, steel bars and clammy walls.

The club was nice about telling About Caddies 61 us to come back and caddy, for after all they needed us as much as we needed them, and on our part we were very thankful not to be either jailed or expelled from the club. I think that we paid at least part of the expense of putting up a new fence, and caddied several weeks without pay. We had strikes and rumors of strikes down in the Edgewater Golf Club caddie yard. It is astonishing how human nature exerts itself even at an early age and it was not long after the club was started before one of the kids, with a gift for leadership, started a walkout.

He was Abe Freeman. To our suburban imaginations the ten cents for nine holes, sweetened by many a tip from generous men like Mr. Taylor, was fine pay, but Abe had bigger ideas, and he soon got the other caddies to his way of thinking. Koehler about it, and as he hap- pened to be a director he soon had it arranged to give the boys fifteen cents for nine holes.

Soon afterwards Freeman went away, and I have never heard of him since. We learned later that the reason that he wanted the extra nickel a round was because he was giving the caddie master that amount for the good jobs. It was the first time that a money-getter, or real merchant, had come into our ranks, and his way of figuring things out made us dizzy. It must have put the idea into our heads, however, for there were other strikes, and they were very characteristic of American boys as I knew them. Our strikes were never for money, but for playing privileges, and to get rid of hated officials.

Its object was to get rid of the caddie master, and the complaints against him were that he was brutal to the boys, held out their money, played favorites, and was generally incompetent. The strike did not go far. A spokesman called the atten- tion of the proper members to the grievances, and the caddie master disappeared and all was well. The last strike was really my own. We had been allowed to play on the course every morning until 8 o'clock, and on Mondays until 9. We had a putting- course in the caddie yard where we practiced during our spare time.

We were also accustomed while caddying to put our clubs in the members' bags so that we could swing them between the tees. Sometimes we forgot and swung the members' clubs instead of our own. As I look back upon it now I think that no club was ever more easy going in granting playing privileges, and no crowd of caddies ever swung golf clubs under pleasanter con- ditions. Suddenly all this was changed. With one deadly blow the hopes of all the prospective young golf champions were blasted. Even when we played late at night, at the farthest edges of the course, we were chased away.

The professional was not wholly to blame, for some of the boys had not replaced divots, and they had probably injured the course. The members had complained about the condition of the course, and as the " pro " was greenkeeper, he decided the easiest remedy would be to keep the boys away.

It was impossible to keep us from all parts of the course, for we had expert ways of duck- ing in and out, but we missed the real playing, our caddie About Caddies 63 team matches, and the little tournaments we held in the early hours of the morning. The drastic change was soul-crushing, for much as we liked the money we made, the real lure that held us to the course was the privilege of playing. I said that I started the strike, for playing was beginning to be the breath of life to me, but soon the big boys took it out of my hands and carried it to a successful conclusion. I can see the boys now, each with his club, hanging around the outskirts of the grounds, hunting balls and picketing the course.

Any boy who attempted to get back onto the grounds and carry double was taken care of quietly and thoroughly. Silsbee brought one of his daughters out to caddy for him and that presented a delicate problem which we did not solve. The club members did not exactly like the idea of our appearing to dictate to them and so the strike continued through the week to the busy Saturday afternoon but it could be seen that the club members were uncomfortable carrying their bags, and some were going around with a single club. Saturday arrived, bringing beautiful weather.

Many members came out, asked for caddies, were told we were on a strike, complained mildly — although some were amused and others angry — and went along.

Full text of "The golfing annual, ".
.
G. Guilford Barton (Author of Golf Is No Ordinary Game)?

When we were chased off, which was often, we appeared on another sector. About the middle of the afternoon J. Moulding, always our friend, and Feno Smith, the club secretary, 64 Chick Evans' Golf Book caine over towards the fence just back of the ninth green. We were about to duck when we heard Mr. Moulding say, " Wait a minute, boys. Moulding said that he and Mr. Smith wanted to talk to the spokesman. When the committee of big boys jumped down into the yard I followed, and standing at the edge of the little crowd I heard Mr. Moulding reason it out with them.

It was agreed to let us play Monday and Thursday mornings until 10 o'clock, if we would go to work immediately. We were also little savages in many ways, too, and we tarred and feathered Willie Grubb for beating the strike, and I recall with shame how much his mother depended on the money he brought home. We might have struck for better accommodations, but golf then was new to both club members and boys, and no one expected much. When I look at the sumptuous caddie quarters of the present day, and remember what ours were, the thought comes to me that I should like to see the contrasted pictures.

It might make the boys of today more contented. There was one more strike at Edgewater, but it was after my time, and ended disastrously for the caddies. Some of the boys went up to Exmoor for Saturday and Sunday, and discovered that the caddies up there were getting twenty cents an hour. They talked it over in the yard in their usual way, and began to think that they were badly treated. When the boys presented their grievance, Riley laughed at them, and told them that they were lucky to be alive. A few days later they struck and not a mem- Types of Old World caddies and a caddy master. Below is a group of caddies at St Andrew- Golf Club.

In the npper right hand corner sits the late James McDonald, famous caddie at same club. In the upper picture Evans is shown getting out of the rough; in the lower he is putting. Hilton, noted British amateur golfer, whom Evans defeated for the low qualifying medal in the National Amateur championship at the Chicago Golf Club. About Caddies 65 ber knew why. Riley and Turpie kicked out a few, fired others, and the boys came back. Afterwards it was learned that the best caddies got twenty cents an hour. Joe Morheiser held the record of fourteen dollars for the week, but that was when the other boys were at school, and good Mrs.

Brower and her friend came out every day, and Joe carried double for them. Then, too, I think that Joe, who was a fine player, gave lessons for money for I remember that the professional was very angry about it, as, of course, it interfered with his earn- ings. Earnings of the Edge water caddies could be said to run from fifty cents for a week up to the record of fourteen dollars. Five to ten a week was not so very uncommon. There is not much that I can say about playing at the early period of caddying which will help other caddies to become good golfers.

Golf Is No Ordinary Game | No Ordinary Game

As soon as I possessed a golf club I kept it in my hand most of the time, and swung it in as close an imitation of the best players as was possible to me, but my method, I regret to say, was wrrong, and that meant many a month of discourage- ment. After all is said, it was my good caddying, not my good playing, that brought me out of the heap of other caddies, and to the attention of the members. Later on I received help and encouragement from them, but I earned it first by toting a bag.

Caddies play under great difficulties. It is a rare thing for them to be able to cover a course under actual play- ing conditions, in spite of the fact that they play a great deal. Round after round we had at Old Edgewater Jbefore 8 in the morning, and we would come in happy and excited, with feet sopping wet from the dewy grass. There is one thing that I particularly owe to Harry Turpie, and it is much. When he was first at Edge- 66 Caddy Days and Ways 67 water I heard him say that the mashie was the most important club in the player's bag.

This sunk in, for Turpie was a beautiful mashie player. I could not have found a better model for that shot as at that time he was one of the best professional players in the Chicago district. I caddied for him several times and mind and eye were busy copying one of the prettiest mashie players the game has ever known. About this time Mrs. Lapham gave me a ladies' lofter, made by Turpie, and if ever a boy practiced with a club I did with this one. I can picture that beloved blade, worn thin by emery paper and constant practice even now, after all these years.

It was my habit to hit a ball from my house down to the club, back and forth, full shots and half, from home to clubhouse. I think that it was in my practice with this club that the Old Edgewater members best recall me. Out from a corner of the kitchen, the nearest room to the clubhouse, I would grab that Turpie lofter, open the door, and drop two golf balls out of my pocket into the middle of the backyard. A few practice swings, and I would tee the balls up and pitch them over Grund 's fence into the alley towards Southport Avenue.

Then I would loft them onto the little stretch of lawn at the side of Cosby 's or Bredow 's house. Thence I would send them towards the walks leading to the street in front of each house, Bredow 's, Himmel's, Dabelstein 's, Obermyers', Win- chell's, Douglass' and Hetherington 's. When I reached the last two I pitched over onto the old " Birches " green, chipped it to the edge, and started with full shots for the clubhouse, taking a circuitous route if the 68 Chick Evans' Golf Book " pro " appeared to be in a bad humor, or a straight one if he seemed pleasantly inclined.

Twice every day I made the journey, and whole days of caddying I made it four times. Chester Horton followed Harry Turpie as professional, with many theories about the teaching of golf, all of which we were too young to appreciate. He had a very interesting and successful pupil in Miss Bessie Anthony, afterwards nationally known, and she often came to Edgewater for lessons. I sometimes caddied on these occasions and picked up many good points.

Joe Dante Square to Square swing,Update and playing sub par golf again.

It is a good thing for a boy to be able to caddy for a professional when he is giving lessons. Horton had two brothers. One of them, Elijah, worked in the shop, and he was very nice to us boys. Being young himself he frequently played with us. Many a time I sand- papered shafts for him and considered it a great privi- lege to be allowed to do it. I think that it was Elijah who taught me how to tie the knot used to fasten the whipping on the club. Often and often I have had occasion to use that knot since. There is always the time when even the humblest knowledge does not come amiss.

Horton 's other brother was named Waverly and he could drive the longest ball I ever saw hit at Old Edge- water. He used to come out late at night to drive balls, and I loved to chase them for him, just for the pleasure of seeing him do it. About this time I began to connect every spare bit of ground with golf, and in accordance with this thought Caddy Days and Ways 69 I built a five-hole putting course in our back yard, the holes being tomato cans sunk in the ground. Until this was done there had always been considerable diffi- culty in getting me to cut the back lawn, but after the course was laid out I insisted upon doing it with sur- prising frequency.

I even wanted to roll it. It happened that some time before I had brought a small box-elder from the woods near the lake and planted it at the side of the house, where, if it had been larger, it might have screened the back lawn from the side and front.

With my mind obsessed by golf the thought came that this bush would make an admirable thing to pitch my mashie shots over. A flower pot was sunk in the side lawn, and from the back I pitched the ball over the bush to within putting distance of the hole. Once started, this practice became a regular daily habit, and to it I can attribute much of my present ability to place my shots. I looked at that tree the other day and its size reminded me, as nothing else could, of the passage of time.

Of course, my sort of practicing was not carried on without accidents, both to our windows and to those of our neighbors. Once I sent a golf ball through an open basement window and it landed in a laundry where a German woman was washing. She was very angry and kept the ball. I fancy that she thought I was trying to kill her. At another time I had a very singular accident, an unexpected sort of a hole in one. There was an alley back of our lot and coming down from Devon another joined to it at right angles in the middle of the lot.

Standing far up this alley I concluded to try to drive 70 Chick Evans' Golf Book a ball onto our back lawn. The ball sailed through a small hole in a screen protecting a closed kitchen window breaking the glass. Fortunately it was our own kitchen window. My golf practice has always had a systematic regu- larity about it. My method of playing, judged by my present knowledge, was, I consider, entirely wrong, for I palmed all my shots to get the club over my shoulder, but because I was hitting a ball so often the result was fairly good.

It requires a tremendous amount of practice to keep the palm-gripped shot in order. The caddie tournaments were times of great excite- ment. Weeks before they took place each boy would get together all the clubs that he could, and never an opportunity for practice was overlooked. The old caddie yard fairly buzzed and many individual games were arranged to be played in connection with the annual tournament, and the customary wager of a penny was increased to a nickel and in the case of the big boys sometimes, but not often, a whole quarter would be risked.

Once Harry Turpie put up a full set of golf clubs to be played for by the caddies. The event was to be held on a Sunday morning with the understanding that it must finish before 8: We played around in twos, threes and " gangsomes ' as we called them, and a certain two, when the returns came in, showed a lamentable ignorance of addition, but crimination and recrimination were the order of the day in that caddie yard.

It sounded like a debating society organized with little regard for rules. Caddy Days and Ways 71 The clubs were won, I think, by Frank Douglass, one of the best players among the larger boys, and the runner-up was, if my memory serves me, Dan Morheiser. It is hardly necessary to say that I was not among the leaders. The biggest tournament of all was for a fine set of clubs put up by F. Donohoe, one of the club members. It consisted of a driver, brassie; midiron, mashie and putter.

It was a tempting collection. I did not play in the event. I suppose I was not considered good enough, but I caddied for my brother who was beaten by Joe Morheiser. Frank Douglass played Dan Morheiser in the finals, and there was the usual argument as to the result, but Frank got the clubs. He turned over an old set of his, which happened to be pretty good, as a prize for the runner-up. There were three of these Morheiser boys who caddied regularly at Edgewater and they were all good players, although Herbert Tweedie once told one of them that he would have to change his name to McTavish if he ever expected to play good golf.

I really did not stand so well in my golf playing as in other games, and only once did I win a caddie tourna- ment, but the winning of tournaments I learned soon was not entirely a matter of skill, but of handicapping and pairing, and I was never allowed to have anything to say about either. My game was either slow in develop- ing, or I had less conceit about it.

The members, how- ever, were very encouraging, but I rarely received any- thing but the most uncomplimentary criticisms from the boys in the caddie yard. A favorite criticism was that I had altogether too bad a temper to succeed at golf. The big Edgewater caddies had a caddie team when I 72 Chick Evans' Golf Book was getting to be a pretty big boy myself. This team was scheduled to play a team of Midlothian caddies on the Midlothian course. After considerable deliberation, and as a great favor, I was allowed to go along. The position given me was last place.

I fully appreciated the honor but failed to take into consideration the great risk involved in playing on that particular links. There were remnants of an old apple orchard on the Midlothian course. I am very fond of apples, and like Adam of old, I also fell. It was a very warm day and eating freely of the fruit I suffered the usual consequences.

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