by Ed Nelson
I talked briefly to Mr. Swartz. He told me that the wind had favored him on every shot. His putting kept him out of contention. He laughed as he told me he would be back next year. I wished him luck.
The press conference was easy to do. When questioned about my improved putting I had John Jacobs come up and describe what he had come up with for my previous week’s practice. This caught the golf reporter’s interest and got me off the hook from any hard questions. I hope John comes up with a business plan as I think he has a winner.
Dad and the kids were there. Today Mary restrained herself from running out on the green. We had to hunt her down. She had slipped away and somehow come up with a very short putter and was on the practice green. She wasn’t doing too badly.
Dad and I watched her for a minute until she missed an easy putt. I don’t know where she learned that word. Dad took charge and gave her a swat on the butt.
“Watch your language young lady!”
“But Mum said it!”
“You can talk like your Mum when you are thirty years old.”
I swear I saw her doing the math in her head.
She countered with, “How about twenty-five?”
My Dad is a saint.
“Twenty-seven and that’s my last word.”
“Okay, thank you, Daddy, what does the word mean?”
“I will tell you when you are forty.”
Even Mary knows a lost cause.
We went out for pizza at a restaurant on Sunset Boulevard. Mrs. Hernandez was at the course all day. She was escorted there and to the restaurant, by a gentleman, I hadn’t met before. We were introduced but his name didn’t stick. It seems she is playing the field. Go, Mrs. Hernandez!
Sunday was a relaxed day doing nothing. Well, I did go out to the country club to check out my locker to make certain everything was returned and cleaned up. I know full well that John Jacobs takes care of that. Maybe I just wanted to bask in my glory.
Bask it was. I must have spent half an hour straight with people coming up to me with congratulations. I did spend some time with the Pro. We talked about the Open being held in Cherry Hills outside of Denver. I knew nothing about the course.
He made a suggestion that he knew I could afford. Move John Jacobs out there until the tournament so he could learn the course. I would have to try to get there and play it as much as I could. My being at school in England would make that kind of hard.
I still wanted to do this. John was in the clubhouse cleaning my gear so I asked him if he and his wife would like to live in Colorado for a while. He shook his head at that. I told him all expenses would be covered. This would be all travel, food, and lodging. He told me he would talk it over with his wife.
They had no children and she didn’t work so there was no reason not to do it. But he knew better than make such a commitment without talking to her. Good to know.
We both went back to the Pro. He told us he would make some phone calls and get John listed as an eligible caddy at Cherry Hills. They didn’t have a reciprocal agreement with them so I would have to be a guest of someone to get on the course. He had some ideas on that and would let me know.
When I got home I told Dad what I was trying to put together. He also had some thoughts about Cherry Hills. It seems Jackson Enterprises was being courted by the Denver Development Authority to consider them as a manufacturing location. He would make a phone call on Monday and see if he could get an appointment with them next week. Maybe they could arrange for us to meet on the Cherry Hills course.
In a way, this seemed unfair to other people in the tournament but many of them had played the course professionally and some as amateurs. I was trying to play catch up. I also realized this was a rationalization as some of the guys playing would have never seen the course before, C’est la Guerre.
A nice long ride on George helped me calm down from the stress of yesterday’s tournament and I suppose of the last several weeks. I checked out the bridge being built over the gully to the Forest Service airport. It was ready for use so I rode over there. Unlike the road into the front gate, there was no one at the entrance so I was able to ride around the area.
I must say besides reconditioning the buildings and runway the Forest Service people knew how to landscape a large area. Not fancy gardens but a nice trimmed controlled look about it. As I neared the Headquarters building a jeep came driving up to me.
It was a Park Ranger who wanted to know what I was doing here and how had I got on base. I introduced myself and told him I had ridden in the backway. It turns out there was a gate there that someone had forgot to close. That raised the question in my mind of how was my family to get in if needed.
Of course, he had no idea. Since it was Sunday there was no one in the office so I went home. I brought it up with Dad and he showed me where our key hung on a hook by the kitchen door. I suggested that we had another one made and hid it outside near the back gate. He thought this would be a good idea. Mrs. Hernandez who was standing right there volunteered to take care of it.
She also took the opportunity to bring up something that had been bothering her, if our family had to retreat to the subbasement what about the staff? Dad thought for a moment.
“If that happened we would not leave them up here in danger. They would come with us. Any event like that would unveil our secret so that would be moot at that point. That means I had better get some cots and additional food and drink down there. Thank you for bringing that up. It never occurred to me. We are not used to having staff.”
Monday Dad went into work but called me to tell me that we would be flying to Denver on Wednesday to discuss putting a plant in Denver while playing a golf round at Cherry Hills.
I wondered how that would go as Dad had really taken to playing golf. He and Mum and taken the lessons I had given as Christmas presents but I didn’t know of them going out after that.
Dad had chartered a plane to take us there on Tuesday evening after work. It was a small jet which would have us there in three hours. We would come back on Wednesday after our business concluded. Todd Goodson would meet us there. We needed a site to assemble containers for the airlines so Denver would be as good as anywhere.
The question is what sort of tax breaks they would allow. I was finding out that cities, states, and even countries would bid to increase local employment and their tax base. Interesting we were not only selling a product we were selling increased income for an area.
Tuesday morning I collected my golf gear from Riviera. John and I had discussed his accompanying me but decided that would be pushing it with the Cherry Hills people. Later I found out that wouldn’t have been an issue, the Pro’s traveled with their caddies all the time.
John did let me know his wife thought it would be fun to live in Denver for a few months. It would be like an extended vacation. If they liked it they may even stay there. I guess it wouldn’t matter to me. If I did well in the US Open I would be playing at different courses all over the world, so it didn’t matter if he had to travel from there.
I couldn’t try for a grand slam this year as the Masters would be in April and I had no way of qualifying. Maybe next year, if I won the Open this year I would be eligible for four of the tournaments.
The trip to Denver the Mile High City was uneventful. A limo took us downtown to the Brown Palace Hotel. I asked if it had any connection to the Unsinkable Molly Brown and was told no, but that she had stayed there after returning from the Titanic.
We had a late sandwich in the Ship Tavern and then turned in. I did my workout in my room but upon looking outside decided not to try to run in downtown Denver. It didn’t look very friendly.
Dad’s and Todd Goodman’s meetings were at the hotel in a conference room. I was taken out to the golf course. I found out how weird the weather is in Denver. They could be having a snowstorm on the west side of the city and sunshine on the east.
Well. there was no snowstorm today and the sun was out. Considering it was l
ate March the golf course was in excellent shape. However. they asked that I not use the fairways as they were wet and we would tear the course up. There was no one else on the course and I realized that a lot of influence had been used to get me here today.
I asked if it would be okay if I just walked the course to see what it was like.
The Pro about fell over himself agreeing to my doing a walk around and volunteered to accompany me. I was given a steno pad and pencil from the office to take notes.
This turned out much better than trying to play an out of season course. The Pro, Mr. Williams and I discussed my playing style and what would be the best positioning for me to get on the green.
In the eighteen holes. I had twenty-four pages of notes. One thing I noticed was that I was a little tired after walking all eighteen holes. I mentioned it to Mr. Williams who told me, “Welcome to the Mile High City,” we have less atmospheric pressure so you have to work harder to get oxygen.
I had known it, but reading about something and experiencing it are two different things. He told me I should try out the driving range, I would like the distance I would be getting.
I did and it appeared I would get an extra ten percent in distance on every shot. I was warned that a high flying ball would go further than one hit low. Also, the weather had a lot to do with it. On a warm day, the ball would go further. This was good information to have.
I told Mr. Williams about my plan to move my caddy out here to learn the course. He replied that he would be glad to have another professional caddy available. He also filled me in on the Pro’s bringing their caddy and then hiring a local caddy to teach their caddy the course. It is a good thing you could only have one caddy or there would be up to a dozen people in a foursome.
All in all, I gained more information about the course than if I had played it. I would try to play it before the actual Open but didn’t know how at this point.
We flew back to California later that afternoon. An agreement had been made in principle to manufacture air cargo containers at a local industrial park so the trip was a success all the way around.
I planned to spend the rest of the week getting ready for my move to England. I didn’t realize how much stuff I wanted over there with me. Maybe I should talk to Mum about getting a larger house.
Sharon Wallace called me on Wednesday. My plan had been to fly from LA on Saturday evening and arrive in London the following morning. She asked if I could instead fly via New York and interview with the Today show on Friday morning. They wanted to know about my forest fire rescue. It was a brush fire but I wasn’t going to get wrapped in those details.
It worked out that I flew to New York on Thursday evening and interviewed on Friday. I spent Friday night in New York then flew to London on Saturday evening arriving in London as planned on Sunday morning.
The interview was a bit of a snooze. How long can you talk about I swooped down, landed the plane, picked them up and took off? Of course, they had to have Justice McComb there who told them what it looked like from his family’s perspective. To them, I was an angel from Heaven. If I had misjudged that dive I would have been a fallen angel.
I was glad to be on the ground in England to get on with the next stage of my life.
Chapter 22
After clearing customs with my British Diplomatic passport I caught a cab to my hotel. My new suite was complete and cleaned up after my cousin’s wild parties. That would not happen again unless of course I was invited.
Even though it was midmorning I took a short nap. Then I took a shower and felt much better for clean clothes. I wore a suit and tie as I had some business to attend to after having coffee and a light lunch from room service. One could get used to this.
My business was buying a car. Specifically, I wanted an Aston Martin DB4 GT. I had read about it in several auto magazines. It would do over 150mph and go from 0-60 in six seconds. The fact it was used in the James Bond movies had nothing to do with it. Okay, a little. Well, maybe more than a little.
The dealer had one on the showroom floor. It was a beautiful pearl grey. The sticker price was 11,000 pounds.
Of course, I was approached by a salesman.
“May I help you, sir?”
Using my best Mayfair accent I informed him that I would like to purchase this vehicle.
“It is a showpiece. Customers view it and then order one. It is taking almost a year at this point in time.”
“May I speak to the Manager, I’m sure that we can come to an arrangement.”
“Your name sir?”
“Sir Richard Jackson.”
That got a reaction. I may be famous for being an actor in the United States, in England, I had saved the Queen.
“Sir please follow me, I will introduce you.”
Walking the fifty feet to the Managers office I must have heard the word, Sir, fifty times. The office door was open so after a perfunctory knock, I was taken in and introduced.
The Managers reaction was the same as the salesman, the car was a display piece and not for sale.
“You are asking 11,000 pounds. I have read the retail price is between 11,000 and 13,500 US Dollars. That would work out to 10,500 pounds.”
“Yes Sir Richard there is a premium on this vehicle.”
“Would you take fifteen thousand pounds for that car?”
You could see that I had his attention. His body language told me he wanted to do the deal but thought he could get more.
“If fifteen thousand won’t get it, what will?”
Now I had the greedy bugger sweating. He needed the car to sell more cars, but at the same time, I was offering a profit that wouldn’t be met unless he sold six or more of them. Given the predicted production rate that I had read about, maybe fifty cars total this year it would never happen. Apparently, he had read the same magazine.
He slowly gave out a number like he was ready to take it back if I jumped at him.
“Twenty thousand pounds and it is yours.”
Almost double the suggested price.
“I will take it.”
At times like this, it is very nice to be rich.
“How will you be paying for it?”
“By cheque, I see there is a London branch of my bank around the corner.”
I had looked it up before coming to the showroom.
The Manager and I walked to the bank, while the salesman arranged for the car to be prepped to drive away.
At the bank, all I had to do was write the cheque, show my British passport, write down my secret password to show I was not under duress and they issued a cashier’s check to the dealer.
The Manager was really a very nice chap and he had a mechanic show me the car’s features. I was even given a test drive out on the highway so they were certain I could handle it. I was very careful about all my turns. I spoke which way I had to go out loud. I didn’t want to enter a roundabout in the wrong direction.
At first, the mechanic thought that was funny but then nodded his head and told me he would recommend that to all American drivers that he dealt with. Considering the type of cars they sold this would happen frequently.
He shared a little tidbit. The James Bond actor had tried to buy this car but wouldn’t come up to a premium price. That’s the Scots for you.
It took almost three hours but I was able to drive away in my newly licensed Aston Martin. I was on pins and needles getting back to the hotel. I never jumped the gun, waiting until the red-amber went to green. This gained me a few honks but I wasn’t taking any chances.
I realized I was being a little too slow when a traffic warden signaled me to speed up! That was a first for me. Of course, when I stepped on it a little I almost rear-ended a double-decker bus. I slowed back down. The traffic wardens could signal all they wanted.
At last, I had my new car in my private hotel parking spot. I took the time to pull the car cover out of the boot and cover the car. Wouldn’t want it to get dirty or scratched you know.
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By the time I got to my room, I was exhausted. I had flown from New York to London had a brief nap and then bought a car and finished up with a nerve racking-drive. I changed to casual clothes and walked around the corner to Mr. Treacher’s shop for dinner.
I read the owner manual for my new car and fell asleep at about 300 bhp.
The next day I went through my morning routine, cleaned up, had breakfast in the swanky hotel dining room. The décor was really too heavy for my taste, all teak and mahogany with red drapes and all the trimmings in gold. Even the silverware was gold. Would you call it goldware? It must have been flash plated as the weight wasn’t as much as real gold.
I then had a leisurely drive up to Oxford. I did get to step on it a little. That car could go. Fortunately, the only police car I saw was when I was obeying the speed limit. When I went past it followed me half-way to Oxford. The patrolman must have thought that I would speed if I could. It drove me crazy keeping the speed within limits as we went through small towns. As we left High Wycombe the patrol car finally turned off the main highway.
When I reached Oxford I stopped and refreshed myself on the directions to our new house, The Meadows. I had to drive down the High Street, right at Turl, left at Broad which is where Trinity is with my parking garage immediately across the street, and then keep going as the street names changed from Broad to Botley Road then West Way and Eynsham Road with finally a left onto Nobles Lane.
That sounds complicated but to get back to Trinity all I had to do was turn right onto Eynsham and follow it into school.
The grounds of The Meadows were beautiful. Great care had been taken, I hadn’t had a good look inside the house but if it was that good we had a really nice residence. Residence, what do you call a place like this, Mansion? I later found out that the smart set would call it a country house.
I was never a member of the smart set, maybe a member of the moderately intelligent set, but not the smart set.
I parked on the gravel in front of the house. I wasn’t certain about that as it could damage the paint job on my new car. I tried to kick some of the gravel up as I walked to the door. That stuff must have been put in place around 1860, it was going nowhere.