Tuesday's Caddie

by Jack Waddell

  The room erupted in excited conversation. Mixed cries of “Ringer,” “Fraud,” “Bravo” and “Here here!” rang out. Babcock held up his arms asking for quiet. When the noise abated he continued.

  “Obviously this is a special situation. We certainly don’t want to exclude the member of another club from participating under the rules. But we also cannot set a precedent whereby one of our own caddies is allowed to compete against our membership. Thus we will permit Mr. O'Reilly to play, but we will unfortunately have to permanently rescind his caddie privileges at this club.”

  Another mixed chorus of “No!” “That’s right!” “Here here!” “Let him play!” “Let him stay!” rose from the crowd as their reactions grew even louder. Again Babcock held up his arms for quiet.

  Robert leaned into Charlie’s ear. “Bastards.”

  When a semblance of quiet resumed, Babcock continued. “There is something else. In fairness to all, and in light of these special circumstances, James Parker Pennington, Jr. and a syndicate of his friends have agreed to make a preemptive and final bid of five thousand dollars for this team.”

  Again the room erupted yet even louder than before. Charlie turned to Robert. “Wait here!” he commanded.

  Robert watched as Charlie quickly elbowed his way to Pennington’s back. He put his hands on both shoulders and put his face up to Pennington’s ear. He spoke for perhaps twenty seconds. Pennington suddenly turned, eyes wide, and looked at Charlie, his mouth agape. Robert could see Charlie nod a “yes,” then turn and make his way back, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Watch this,” Charlie said.

  Pennington suddenly raised his arm and called out to Babcock as he hurriedly shouldered his way toward the stage through the throng. When he got to the edge he motioned Babcock closer. Babcock leaned down to Pennington who seemed to speak excitedly for a few moments. Babcock looked like he asked a question. Pennington nodded an emphatic “yes.” Babcock asked another question. Pennington shook his head “no” and quickly moved back into the crowd.

  Babcock rose and made his way back to the microphone and once again lifted his arms for quiet. “Quiet, quiet please!” he spoke into the microphone. “I have a clarification to make. Please!” The crowd simmered down to a buzz. “Very recent developments have occurred that have necessitated the withdrawal of the Pennington syndicate’s bid.” Again the noise swelled to engulf the room. Again Babcock raised his arms beseeching quiet. “Please… please! As a result we will now open the bidding for this team. What do I hear for Compton and O'Reilly?”

  Robert immediately shouted out “Fifteen hundred!” He quickly turned to Charlie and asked, “What did you say to him?”

  Charlie smiled and shook his head.

  “Fifteen hundred,” Babcock announced. “Do I hear more?”

  “Eighteen hundred!” came a shout.

  “Two thousand!” came another.

  “Right, then. I have two thousand dollars,” Babcock proclaimed. “Any more?”

  “Twenty five hundred,” Robert shouted out.

  There was a pause. Babcock started to speak. “Twenty five…”

  “Twenty eight hundred!” came another cry.

  Robert immediately countered, “Three thousand dollars!”

  A collective gasp escaped the crowd. Then a rumble of babble spread across the room. Babcock looked shaken. “We have a bid of three thousand dollars,” he shouted over the noise. “Are there any others?” The crowd fell silent in anticipation. Five seconds passed, then five more. “Three thousand! No more bids?” Still silence. “Then three thousand it is to Mr. Robert Graves. Congratulations.”

  The crowd erupted in applause and cheers. Crowder and Yancey again chalked the tote board. Babcock took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. Pennington turned around and scowled. Robert and Charlie exchanged grins.

  Babcock turned and studied the tote board as Crowder and Yancey finished chalking it. He gathered himself and stepped back to the microphone. “That will conclude tonight’s auction… now on to the final tally. Thanks to the quick arithmetic of my associates on stage I can report our Calcutta pool this year totals twenty four thousand five hundred dollars.” More cheers and applause rose from the crowd. “I dare say that’s a new record for our event.” He turned and consulted the board again. “As a result the second place finish will be worth seven thousand three hundred and fifty dollars. First place will be worth seventeen thousand one hundred and fifty dollars!” Again cheers and applause. “Final seeding and pairings for tomorrow will be based on tonight’s bidding. They’ll be posted later tonight here on stage and in the locker room. First group will go off at ten o’clock tomorrow. This concludes our business this evening. Thank you… and everyone enjoy the rest of the night.”

  Babcock, Crowder and Yancey walked off the stage to scattered polite applause. Babcock made for Pennington.

  Robert grabbed Charlie by the arm. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

  Once out on the veranda they both lit cigars. “Well, you did it, Bob,” Charlie said, puffing away. “I think we showed those prigs a thing or two.”

  “You have to tell me what you said to Pennington.”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Come on!”

  “No. Just some business my company has had with his father’s a while back. Let it go.”

  “All right. But thank you.”

  “We got what we wanted. And if those two kids can come through this weekend we’re going to get more than we bargained for. Hell, my cut ought to be a little over four grand if they win. That would set Billy up just fine.”

  “Yeah, the money would be great. I’ll help the caddie out too. Especially since they’ve booted him out of here. But winning would really stick it to those pricks in there. And that would be sweet.”

  “Yes it would,” Charlie agreed taking another long pull on his cigar. “Yes it would."

  (back to top)

  Chapter 26

  Saturday

  Saturday, May 24, 1930

  Conor slept well in the big plush four-poster bed with the down comforter and satin sheets. When he opened his eyes he could smell coffee and see the glow of dawn poking out around the edges of the drapes covering the windows. He rolled to his back and began making out the objects in the room; the mahogany dresser, armoire and wardrobe, the upholstered wing chair, the large floor mirror, the oil paintings on the walls, the silent butler where hung the new and freshly ironed clothes he would wear that day. On the bedside table was a silver coffee service the maid had delivered silently while he was asleep. He thought to himself, “This is how I intend to live my life one day.” Then he thought of Annie. He imagined this was what she must awaken to every day.

  He sat up and poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip. He stretched his arms and legs. He began to think about the Calcutta. The weather was to be good and the wind light. That was good for Billy. He liked Billy. There was more to him than his reputation. When Conor had balked a bit at the Mexican food they had the night before Billy picked up the tab and took him to a cafe where Conor was able to get the meat and potatoes he craved. Billy bought that meal too, despite his earlier declaration they go Dutch.

  He also liked Billy’s mother, Myrtle. She had met them at the door when they came back from dinner. She reminded him of his own mother in some ways – direct, matter-of-fact, caring. He could see her love for her son in her eyes. She sat at the kitchen table with them while they shared some pie before heading to bed. They talked of many things, but mostly of Billy, how his head was feeling, what he was thinking and his plans for the future. Billy didn’t talk about making money as much as he talked about doing something that would make a difference in people’s lives. He didn’t know what they would be yet, but that was what he was looking for. Billy’s mother had smiled proudly at his words.

  Conor poured another cup of coffee and sat back in bed. There was plenty of time this morning. He and Billy didn’t have to be to
the course until ten thirty and so Myrtle had planed a late breakfast for them. As he had nearly every moment he’d had to himself since Tuesday he thought again of Annie. He reflected on their nights together and the way she filled his heart with joy. He knew she was his future. There could be no other woman for him. But to make that future possible he must become more than a caddie. Perhaps the Calcutta would be the first step.

  He eventually got up from bed and shaved and showered, the shower yet another luxury of his stay at the Compton’s and another reminder of his Annie. He dressed himself in his fine new clothes and again thought of her. As she had asked, he would not wear a cap today. He picked up the handkerchief with the yellow embroidered tulip and put it to his face to smell her again. Then he put it in his front pocket where he could reach in and touch it. Annie would be watching him today. She would be his incentive to win.

  * * *

  Robert drove to Biarritz early. He wanted to talk to Conor before the round about what had happened at the auction. He felt terrible about costing him his job. He parked his car and went into the clubhouse to get some coffee in the men’s grill. The first groups had begun to tee off and most of the members were down at the tee to watch.

  Charlie Compton was in the grill drinking his coffee alone at a table. He had been too excited to stay at the house and he hadn’t wanted his nervousness to infect the two players. He’d simply greeted them as they came down for their breakfast, told them he’d see them at the club, wished them luck and then left.

  “Morning, Charlie,” Robert said. “You got here early!”

  “Yeah, well, it’s going to be a big day, right?”

  “It is. How are the boys?”

  “Fine. Billy seems better. They’re eating breakfast now. They’ll be here soon.”

  Robert sat down and motioned for the waitress to bring him some coffee. “That was quite a night, wasn’t it? I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Pennington’s face when you said whatever it was you said to him.”

  Charlie smiled. “Yeah. That was rich. Son of a bitch had it coming, though.”

  “I’d still like to know what it was you said.”

  “No you wouldn’t. Those guys in the oil business may be rich, they may look clean and proper, but they’re as dirty as the crud they pump from the ground. And unfortunately one sees a lot of dirt in the trucking business.”

  “All right,” Robert conceded. “Listen, I have to tell you something. I’m going to give the caddie the option of pulling out to save his job. I know what this means for Billy but it’s just not right for the kid to give up everything just so we can maybe win a few bucks.”

  Charlie paused, holding his cup at his lips. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. I want to see Billy work for something.”

  “I know. But this has gotten out of hand. We’re talking the kid’s livelihood.”

  Charlie lowered the cup from his lips. “Suit yourself. You bought them, you can shelve them. I just wish you wouldn’t.”

  “No, I have to. But I have a hunch he plays anyway. He strikes me as that kind of guy.”

  “Hope you’re right.”

  * * *

  On the ride to the golf course Billy had a story to tell Conor and a reason for telling it. “I may need your help today with something,” Billy started.

  “Aye. What ‘tis that? You're not to be feeling well?”

  “No, not that. I'm fine. It's just that a few years ago I was engaged to this girl. Arlene was her name.”

  “You? Engaged? Is this to be really you telling me such a thing?”

  Billy grinned. “Yeah, well, I was different then. Things were different. But the point is she dumped me.”

  “I can’t imagine that.”

  “Well it happened. And she went and married this other guy, one of the guys we’re playing with today.”

  “Oh, I see,” Conor said shifting a bit uncomfortably in the seat. “Who’s that?”

  “Babcock. Sterling Babcock. They call him Skipper. But they should call him asshole. The guy’s a complete twit.”

  “Can he play?”

  “Oh, he can play all right. And he knows it. And he makes sure everybody else knows it too.”

  “What is it you want from me?” Conor asked.

  “I don’t know if you’ve ever lost a girl.”

  “No, not really.”

  Well, it’s hard. It makes you hate a lot of things and a lot of people. I’ve gotten over most of it. But I can’t get over that jerk. He gets under my skin. I need you to keep me away from him.”

  “It’s golf we’re to be playing, not Shakespeare. Play the golf. Ignore him. ‘Tis medal play so we don’t even have to care what he’s doing.”

  “I know all that. It’s just that there’s going to be times where I want to punch him right in the nose. Just help me stay away from him. Help me forget him.”

  “Aye. Then that’s what I’ll do.”

  * * *

  Conor and Billy changed shoes in the locker room. It was the first time Conor had been inside the clubhouse. He marveled at the tall oak lockers, the leather-upholstered benches, the soft carpeting. Even the bathroom and shower area was amazing, all glossy small white tiling smelling of talc and Clubman and Lilac Vegetal after-shave lotions.

  They walked down to the pro shop where they met up with Stovepipe and Dogface who were waiting with their golf bags. The four walked out to the range where the two players started to loosen up. At the far end of the range they could see Babcock and Pennington doing the same. Eventually Skipper and Parker finished and walked back down the line, Benny and Pissquick, their caddies, trailing behind. When they came to Billy they stopped.

  Babcock was one of those unfortunate people whose face held a perpetual sneer. “Hello, Compton,” he said. “I see you are well attended today. Not many players can boast three caddies at their service.”

  Billy held his tongue for a moment. Then he couldn’t. “Go to hell.”

  Conor could see Billy clench his fists. He stepped over and put his hand on Billy’s shoulder.

  “Yes, please do restrain him, caddie. If you can keep your hothead under control perhaps there’ll be a tip in it for you at the end of the day. And Billy, what's with the bandage on your head? Some husband finally catch up with you?” Babcock moved as if to continue then turned back and added, “By the way, Arlene sends her regards.” He gave a wicked smile. “Did you know we’re expecting?”

  Billy tried to step forward but felt Conor’s hand holding him back. He stood silently and watched the group walk away.

  “I see what you mean,” Conor said. “’Tis indeed a fool he is. But such talk is twice as bitter when it comes back to haunt.”

  “I know, I know,” Billy muttered. “I just want to get that bastard.”

  “Aye. But that’s best to be done beating him. And to do that you must forget him. Now come on. Let us hit a few more shots.”

  They finished warming up and then moved back down to the practice putting green. A small crowd had gathered around it watching the players. Billy saw his father and Robert among them.

  When Robert saw Conor he called out and waved for him to come over. “Over here… I need to talk to you.”

  “Good morning, Bob! ‘Tis a fine day for golf 'tis it not?” Conor replied smiling as he neared Robert and Charlie.

  “Good morning. Yes it is. But I need to tell you something. Come here…”

  Conor came closer, Billy at his side. He could see the concern on Robert’s face. “What is it, Bob?”

  Robert didn’t know where to begin. “Some things happened last night at the auction. I’m really sorry about it. There’s no problem with you playing in the Calcutta, but there’s another problem.”

  “What is it?” Conor asked suddenly concerned.

  “The gist of it is they don’t want a caddie competing in their member events. So while they’re going to let you play, they’re going to fire you as a caddie. You can’t caddie at Biarritz
any more.”

  Conor was stunned. He hadn’t imagined such a possibility. His first thought was Tuesday and Annie and Bogey House. How would he meet her? Where could they go?

  Billy reacted first. “You must be joking, right? Why would they do such a thing?”

  Charlie jumped in. “Because they’re a bunch of colossal jerks. That’s why.”

  “Look, it’s my fault,” Robert continued. “I should never have set you up like this. I’m sorry. But that’s why I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to play. I don’t want to cost you your job over this Calcutta thing. You can withdraw if you want. There are enough members who like you that you’d probably be able to keep caddying. So it’s up to you.”

  Conor stood silent for just a moment. “No. Play I will.”

  “You don’t have to. I’m fine either way,” Charlie countered.

  “No. I want to. ‘Twas never my intent to be a caddie for my living. If I can’t find something else I’ll find another club where to caddie. Or something else to do.” Conor turned toward Billy. “We’ve worked hard for this. It could mean a lot for Billy here. And me self. I want to see what we can do.”

  “All right. That’s it then,” Robert said. “We’re in.”

  Charlie grinned. “Now let’s see you two guys win this thing.”

  * * *

  As Conor and Billy were about to walk down to the first tee Gino walked onto the practice green. He came up to Conor a grim look on his face. “I just heard I lost a caddie last night. I think that stinks. Really stinks. You were the best I had.”

  “Thanks, Cap’n,” Conor replied. “I’m to appreciate that.”

  “Listen, come here,” Gino said putting his arm around Conor and whispering in his ear. “Some of the guys have told me some things. You keep an eye on Babcock. Word is he does things in the rough. And he never loses a ball. Know what I mean?”

  Conor looked at Gino and smiled. “Thanks, Cap’n. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “There’s a reason he wanted Benny to loop for him. So keep an eye out.” He took his arm off Conor’s shoulder and moved back. “You and Billy do good today. All the guys in the yard want to see you pull this off.”