How I Played the Game

by Byron Nelson

  That’s exactly what I did. I was all pumped up anyway, with Leo’s encouragement on top of it. Little drove first, and when I stepped up there, I just let one fly and it sailed right over where his ball had stopped. He gave me the old fisheye, but I birdied the hole to his par, and that was kind of key to the match. I was fortunate. I played very well and beat Little, and it got national publicity.

  In fact, the headline in the paper the next day—well, the sportswriters didn’t know anything about me, but since I’d gotten married the previous June, they wrote, HONEYMOONER BEATS LAWSON LITTLE! Louise was so embarrassed she wouldn’t leave the hotel room the next day. You had to read half of the article before my name even appeared. I won all of $50.

  I didn’t do anything else spectacular that winter, but at least we didn’t have to borrow anything from Mr. Shofner, and Louise was a mighty good cook, so we ate regularly and ate well. Still, I’ve always felt that my performance in San Francisco, plus a few other good rounds I had in ’34, were the main reasons I was invited to Augusta to play in the second Masters tournament in 1935.

  During the tournament—at that time called the Augusta Invitational—a man named George Jacobus, who was golf professional at Ridgewood Country Club in Ridgewood, New Jersey, and president of the PGA, came to see Ed Dudley, the golf pro at Augusta National. George told Ed, “I’m looking for a new young assistant, a decent sort of a fellow who has a good possibility of becoming a good player.” Of course, you were hired then to play some with the members, and to do quite a bit of teaching, too.

  Ed Dudley knew me, and had known me for some time. He was originally from Oklahoma, and with me being from Texas, well, I’d met him at a few of those golf tournaments in both states. Ed told George about me and then introduced us. George interviewed me one day and we had a long conversation, and he said he’d like to talk to me again the next day. So he checked back on my record and what the people thought of me at Texarkana where I was head pro. The next day he hired me to come to Ridgewood as his assistant after the Masters tournament.

  My salary would be $400 for the summer, plus half of my lesson fees. Doesn’t sound like much, I know, but it was considerably more than what I was making at Texarkana, and the season was shorter, which would allow me to play more tournaments in the winter.

  I was very excited about going to Ridgewood, because I had known of Mr. Jacobus for some time though I hadn’t met him before. Of course I didn’t know anything about Ridgewood and hadn’t ever played there. In fact, I’d never been east of the Mississippi until the Masters. But the fact that George was a prominent pro and president of the PGA impressed me very much. He told me Ridgewood was a 27-hole layout designed by A.W. Tillinghast, which would make it an excellent place to practice and work on my game.

  This all took place before and after the first round of the Masters that year. I finished ninth with a score of 291 and won $197. I remember I told Dudley then, “I want to win this tournament in about three years.” I beat that forecast by one year.

  My first impression of Augusta National was one of surprise—there was really no rough to speak of at all. The trees were not very tall then, either—today they’re a good forty feet taller. But the flowers were just as beautiful then. I saw the great Bob Jones there, but didn’t get to meet him that year. Most people called him Bobby, but those closest to him always called him Bob.

  So I went back home to Texarkana and resigned, packed up, and drove to Ridgewood. It was the first time Louise had to leave home, but when I told her the news, she said, “That’s fine.” Louise was always very encouraging and supportive of me, and often told me I was a hard worker. She came to Ridgewood a little later, because she had to see after all our things and say goodbye to her family. After I left Texarkana, they hired Don Murphy, a fine pro who stayed there forever, practically, and is now pro emeritus.

  I also knew Ridgewood would be an excellent stepping stone in my career, with many more opportunities for me. It would be easier to travel to and play in many of the tournaments in the North and Southeast, and would give me more experience playing in all kinds of weather. But if I had known then what awaited me during my time at Ridgewood, I don’t know if I could have stood that much excitement.

  FOUR

  Ridgewood

  and a

  New Driver

  SINCE GEORGE JACOBUS WANTED ME TO START AT RIDGE-wood as soon as possible, I drove home to Texarkana right after the Masters, packed as much as my little Ford roadster would hold—which wasn’t much—and drove straight to Ridgewood. The trip took two and a half days of hard driving, and I arrived about noon of the third day.

  As I drove up to the clubhouse, I was pretty awed. I had never seen a clubhouse so imposing and elegant before, and I was very apprehensive about it all. But back then, to be successful in the golf business in any way, you had to get a club job in the East. You needed that type of experience, for one thing. Of course, making a living came first for me, so playing on the tour was secondary. One thing for sure, I knew I was very fortunate to be working for Mr. Jacobus, who was then and for quite a long time afterwards president of the PGA. At that time, the PGA was really struggling. There was no money to be made running it, and it wasn’t anything like what the tour is today. But working for George gave me the chance to learn about all the tournaments ahead of time, and to see what went into running the PGA and its events. In the mid-thirties, like most folks and many other organizations, the PGA was having financial difficulties. They had very little income, hardly enough to operate the tournaments they were involved in. I remember at one point, just to make a little money for the PGA, George negotiated a deal with golf ball manufacturers. They made balls with their name on one side and “PGA” on the other, and the PGA got a small royalty for each ball sold. It wasn’t much, but it helped.

  When I walked into the clubhouse, George came to greet me and was very happy to see me. He immediately showed me the pro shop and introduced me to the other fellows I’d be working with. Then he told me about the house where I’d be staying, which he had sent me a telegram about before I’d left Texarkana. He even rode out there with me, knowing I was new in town and might have trouble finding my way.

  I was anxious to see it, and make sure it would be all right. This was the first time Louise would be moving away from home, and I knew it was going to be hard on her, as she was very close to her family. Not only that, but I’d be away all day and working pretty long hours, so she’d have very little to do other than her hand work—needlepoint and so forth. She wouldn’t even have cooking to occupy her time, because we would actually be boarders, with the cost of our food included in our rent. I believe it was between seven and nine dollars per week. That doesn’t sound like much now, but remember, I only made $400 plus half my lessons for the whole season, which ran from April 1 to Labor Day. I got $2.50 for each lesson and gave over $50 a week, for a total of about $100. So my monthly income was a little under $400 per month. Whatever we could save had to help pay expenses while I was on tour in the winter.

  You might wonder why we didn’t find a place of our own, where Louise would have more to do. But even a small apartment back then was more than we could afford, and besides, when I’d go on the tour in late fall, it made more sense for us to go back to Texarkana for the winter, where Louise could be with her family, because I’d be gone for several weeks at a time.

  The people who owned the house we lived in were Mr. and Mrs. W. W. Hope, and they were very nice folks. I remember when Louise arrived about two weeks later, Mrs. Hope chuckled because Louise was so small—5'2"—while I was a good foot taller. Mr. and Mrs. Hope were just the opposite, and when she saw Louise, Mrs. Hope said, “I knew you’d be tiny—tall men always marry little women!”

  Our room was small but comfortable, with a ¾-sized bed. That’s right, not even a double. It was mighty cozy, I can tell you, and we shared a bathroom with another boarder and the Hopes’ son. But Mrs. Hope had put a small rocking chair in
our room just for Louise. With all the hand work she did, it was great to have that chair.

  Mrs. Hope took a liking to Louise, and it made a world of difference. She had her help with the cooking for all the boarders—there were three of us, plus the Hopes’ son. That helped Louise quite a bit, because she was terribly homesick. She cried a lot at first, and had very little to do that could help pass the time. Her friendship with Mrs. Hope carried her through the summer, though—in fact, we came back to stay there the following year as well.

  Louise didn’t come to visit me at the club much. Back then, it was very rare for a pro’s wife to come to his club. I don’t think Louise came to Ridgewood more than a half-dozen times in the two years I was there. It just wasn’t done then, and since she didn’t play golf anyway, there was little reason for her to come by.

  Getting back to my first day at work, after I unloaded what I’d brought along in the car, George and I returned to the club, which was about a ten-minute drive from the house. I was very much impressed with the pro shop. It was very adequate in size and well-stocked. Also, George had two employees besides me, which was unusual in those days. Most clubs then had just the pro and one man to take care of the clubs. Being just a young kid from Texas, I was very nervous about this new situation, and knew I was most fortunate to be working for George. The others working for him were Ray Jamison, who came to be my assistant and who is still a good friend; and Jules the caddy-master, who also took care of the clubs and the whole back end of the shop. He and I also became good friends.

  The next day, Mr. Jacobus and I went over my duties and my teaching methods. George was a good listener, and wanted me to go over my new way of playing golf with him quite thoroughly. I was very pleased to find he agreed with the changes I was making, and that encouraged me considerably. He gave me permission to teach my ideas to my students, who were mostly juniors and younger players, plus a few women and beginners.

  I was told that I was always to look neat, which meant wearing a shirt and tie every day. And of course, it was most important to be polite to everyone at all times. Fortunately, thanks to my parents, I didn’t have too much trouble with that job requirement. I learned a great deal from George about how to merchandise and promote new clubs, shoes, balls, and clothing—mostly sweaters and argyle socks. It stood me in good stead later in my career as a club pro.

  The weather in New Jersey was still pretty cool when I arrived the first week in April. At that time, the Masters tournament was still played the last week in March, rather than the first full week of April as it is now. So it wasn’t really spring just yet. In fact, there was a slight snowfall the second or third day after I got there. Still, some people were already playing golf.

  I was anxious to play the course myself. Though I hadn’t heard of Ridgewood before I met Mr. Jacobus, I learned that Tillinghast was a good architect, and knew the course would be a challenge for me to play and would help sharpen my game.

  For the first few days, until I got used to my duties, I only had time to play a few holes by myself in the evenings when my chores were done. There were three nine-hole courses, East, West, and Center, with the East and West being more difficult than the Center course. Though there was water only on the first hole of the Center course, I found Ridgewood to be as difficult to play as Augusta National. The bentgrass greens were slick, much faster than what I was used to in Texas, where we had common bermuda grass then. The whole time I was at Ridgewood, my best score was a 68. But after the ’39 Open, which I was fortunate to win, I went back and played an exhibition there and shot a 63. I was happy about that. I also got to see Ladies’ Champion Virginia Van Wie and Glenna Collett play while I was there, which was a real treat.

  I met Tillinghast shortly after my arrival, because he spent a lot of time at Ridgewood. And I got to know him quite well, though he didn’t play a lot and I never played with him. I don’t really remember what kind of a game he did play, but he intrigued me. He always wore a loose-fitting tweed jacket and smoked a pipe, and was always very friendly. Of course, I wasn’t thinking anything about golf course design then, so I never talked to him about it. But I’ve now played quite a few of his courses, and his are always among the best, in my opinion.

  After a while, I began to meet and play with some of the younger members of the club. I was surprised to see so much play as compared to Texarkana, and especially to see so many women playing. I had to confine practicing to my spare time, which there wasn’t much of at first. There were quite a few caddies, though, and we were on very friendly terms right from the start, so some of them would shag balls for me, which was a great help. As for teaching, I did very little until the members got to know me and were willing to take a chance on a young kid with new ideas.

  By the time I arrived at Ridgewood, I had developed the style of play which I still use today. I’d take the club straight back from the ball, not pronating as used to be necessary with the old hickory-shafted clubs. After talking with me and watching what I was doing and trying to do with my game, George grew to like my ideas. Eventually, he incorporated some of them into his teaching as well. He was most encouraging to young players, and that’s how he helped me the most.

  George, who was in his early forties at the time, had a wonderful ability to know his membership. He knew which ones liked to argue, and which ones had to be handled with kid gloves. His shop sold quite a lot of clubs, and also some clothing, which was just starting to be made specifically for golf at that time. But service was the most important thing we offered, by far.

  As you might guess, the difference in accents between Texas and New Jersey is pretty noticeable, and I had a little trouble at first understanding people, though I suspect they had more trouble with my Texas twang. But they didn’t kid me about it or tell me I ought to change, so I never did.

  There were quite a few members I remember well, including Ashe Clarke, Max Kachie, and Ernie Thomas, but the one I played with the most often was Chet O’Brien. Chet was a nice-looking young man, married to a Broadway actress-dancer named Marilyn Miller. I was very impressed with how nicely he dressed—always wore handmade long-sleeved silk shirts and ties, and dressed well all the time. I complimented him several times, and he eventually took me to his tailors, Arco and McNaughton. He had them make me a pair of slacks in a sort of a gabardine called buckskin. Even back then, they were $60 a pair, but I got spoiled real fast, and went back to them often. Later, when I went to Inverness in Toledo, I went to a tailor named Fromme who made all my slacks for a number of years, from that same Arco and McNaughton pattern.

  This may make me sound as if I cared too much about clothes, but that was one reason I decided I wanted to be on the Ryder Cup team. The 1935 matches were held at Ridgewood, so I got to be part of all the preparations for the event. Mr. Jacobus was very involved in selecting the team’s wardrobes, of course, and when the players arrived and got all dressed in their uniforms, I thought they looked mighty sharp. They had British tan slacks, brown-and-white shoes, brown gabardine blazers, and tweed coats, tan and brown, Their golf bags all matched, too.

  It got me to thinking about getting to be a good enough player to make the team. I wanted it as much for the clothes as anything else, but it gave me that much more motivation for working on my game. It was about then I told the caddies one day that I was going to be on the next Ryder Cup team. They laughed and told me, “Quit dreamin’, Byron,” and that was even more motivation.

  I was very excited about meeting the team, because they were the leading U.S. and British players at the time. Paul Runyan, Craig Wood, Walter Hagen, Henry Picard, Olin Dutra, Johnny Revolta, Gene Sarazen, Percy Alliss, Alf Padgham—I did meet them, of course, but I’m sure that few of them were aware of me at all, and no reason why they should be, really. I was just another assistant pro to them. I was even more enthused about seeing them play for the first time. That was great. I watched nearly all the matches, and learned a lot from watching those wonderful golfers play. The
United States, by the way, won 9–3.

  So I began practicing harder, and one evening I had come back from the practice range with my 3-iron. Some of the caddies were outside the pro shop, and there was a flagpole about a hundred feet away, over toward the first tee of the Center course. The caddies challenged me to see if I could hit that flagpole from the slate terrace in front of the shop, and each of them put down a nickel or a dime—about fifty-five cents total.

  Now, hitting a ball off a stone terrace sounds pretty tough, but I’d had plenty of practice with bare lies in Texas. My first shot, I tried to fade the ball, and missed the pole about six feet on the left. But I drew the second shot, and it was right on the money. I hit that flagpole nice as you please. The caddies were standing there with their mouths still open when I picked up my fifty-five cents and went home.

  Right after the Ryder Cup matches was the PGA championship. That year it was at Twin Hills in Oklahoma City, and something new had been added—expense accounts. If you qualified for the tournament, you could get ten cents a mile, which was a nice incentive. I had to qualify at a course in New Jersey. The 18th hole was a par 4, and when I got there I had to par to qualify. I put my second shot in the bunker short of the green, bladed it over the green, and made bogey. Most of the reason I missed that bunker shot was I had gotten a special sand iron just for bunker play in the Open at Oakmont just before that, and never learned how to play with it, at Oakmont or anywhere else. But I had foolishly left it in my bag, and it was the only sand iron I had. Just a ridiculous mistake on my part.