Chasing Greatness

by Adam Lazarus

  Schlee earned more money that season ($118,017) than in the last three seasons combined. With additional endorsement perks and higher exhibition fees, the Schlees were suddenly living the high life in Dallas. And the year culminated in a luxurious, all-expenses-paid, six-week sojourn with Gary Player and a few other international stars to give exhibitions, play a few tournaments, and vacation at all of South Africa’s top tourist spots.

  Schlee backed up his growing reputation in the world of golf in 1974. He followed up a good spring, including another top thirty in the Masters, with a great summer.

  A week before his much-anticipated appearance at Winged Foot for the U.S. Open—author Dick Schaap would keep close tabs on the self-proclaimed “National Runner-up” for his book, The Massacre at Winged Foot—Schlee grabbed the first-round lead in the IVB Philadelphia Classic. The defending champion, Tom Weiskopf, grabbed the headlines, however; among other low rounds, it was Schlee’s six-under-par effort that prompted Weiskopf to say, “[The courses are] too easy. I feel like I might as well be playing on the women’s tour.”

  Schlee agreed with Weiskopf, but used his latest moment in the spotlight to talk about his second love: astrology.

  “June was a good month for me last year, and it will be better for me this year.”

  When asked if that meant he might win next week’s U.S. Open, Schlee proclaimed, “Unless there is somebody else who has a more favorable sign.”

  Schlee finished tied for eighth at Whitemarsh, only to miss the cut by two shots at Winged Foot with consecutive 78s.

  Although he was a Gemini and not a Leo, the stars seemed aligned for Schlee during a stretch from late July to mid-August of 1974. On July 20, with most tour stars playing in the British Open, Schlee shot a tournament-low six under 65 to spring into contention at the B.C. Open in upstate New York (he finished tied for fifth). The following week, in the more prestigious Canadian Open, Schlee collected a runner-up check behind Bobby Nichols. At the home hole, he sank an eighteen-footer to pull into a second-place tie and earn $10,000.

  More than fifteen strokes off the pace in the following week’s Pleasant Valley Classic, Schlee withdrew during the second round to prepare for the PGA Championship. The tournament sponsors were unhappy, but his decision paid off. At Tanglewood Park in North Carolina, Schlee shot an opening-round 68—five better than his playing partner, Lee Trevino—to tie for the lead in the season’s final major.

  As always, Schlee was colorful in his recap of the day.

  “Man, I wish we were playing this next week,” he said. “This is not a bad week but next week’s better. In fact, my horoscope the rest of the year is good. When you have a good horoscope, you can relax, have a good time on the course. When you don’t, you struggle with your game.”

  Once again, Schlee’s views on astrology captivated his audience in the press tent. In addition to explaining how the current aligning of the stars affected golfers like Sam Snead and Arnold Palmer, he commented on the plight of President Nixon, who had announced his resignation on the same day Schlee shot his first-round 68: “I feel real sorry for him. His sign indicated a bad week for him.

  “Since my moon is in Sagittarius and there’s a rising sun in Aquarius, this should be a good week for me,” he told reporters.

  The next afternoon, while Tom Weiskopf “went bananas” on the sixteenth green and withdrew, Schlee shot 67 to maintain a one-stroke lead at the halfway point.

  “I think anytime anyone can find anything that gives him a plan to follow—whether it’s astrology, religion, anything—it has to help.”

  “(Kermit) Zarley believes in the Bible, Schlee believes in astrology,” Trevino told the press corps that week. “I believe in making more birdies than bogeys.”

  The Super Mex set about doing just that during the weekend, winning the season’s final major on Sunday; Schlee shot a pair of 75s to fall from contention and finish seventeenth.

  Schlee finished the 1974 season having made the cut in twenty of the thirty events he entered, earning over $54,000, and retaining his exempt status by finishing in the top sixty. The year culminated in another all-expenses-paid exhibition tour for the entire family, this time to Sweden.

  AND THEN, JOHN SCHLEE’S LIFE suddenly fell apart. His back—he’d always claimed to have “an extra vertebrae down there”—bothered him near the end of the season, and he elected to have surgery. Then, abruptly, his second wife opted out of their marriage. For the first time in a decade, Schlee was without a family to soften his personal eccentricities and his career ups and downs.

  But Schlee was resilient. In need of money, he returned to the tour just a few weeks after the surgery (much earlier than his doctor advised). He even shot a third-round 65 in the Bob Hope in early February. Given his physical, personal, and financial ailments (the divorce was finalized midyear), Schlee performed well during the 1975 season, carding five top tens in just twenty-five starts (his fewest appearances since 1969). Most important, he finished fifty-eighth on the money list to retain his exempt status for the 1976 season.

  Another significant surgery, this time to repair cartilage in his left knee, sidelined Schlee in the early part of 1976: A compulsive fixer-upper, he had fallen through the roof of his house while doing home repairs. Nevertheless, within six weeks, he shot a tournament-record 65 (matched that same day by Lanny Wadkins) in the Pleasant Valley Classic. In fact, he led the tournament after twenty-seven holes, then distracted himself by flirting with a girl who worked in the scorer’s tent. He finally had to be called to the tee, rushed his preparation, and quickly double-bogeyed numbers ten and eleven, falling from first to fifteenth place in the span of two holes.

  And though the season was similar to the year before—fifty-ninth in tour earnings to barely retain his exempt status—1976 had a notable high point. Shooting impressive scores each round (71-72-70-70), Schlee tied for fourth behind Dave Stockton in the PGA Championship at the Congressional Country Club, where his caddie (for seven events during the summer) was Darryl Donovan, the now sixteen-year-old he’d babysat years earlier at Memphis State.

  Schlee continued to hold his own on tour early the following season. Outstanding at the Masters tournament, he was one of only two players to break 70 both Saturday and Sunday. He even endeared himself to the crowd (though probably not to the Augusta brass) by snatching a rope barrier that divided the gallery from the players to measure the distance from tee to green on Augusta’s famous par-three twelfth; choosing the wrong club off the tee in earlier rounds had convinced Schlee that his caddie’s and the official yardage measurement were incorrect. Once the bizarre scene ended, Schlee selected a seven-iron and made a birdie two.

  That eighth-place finish at Augusta National was Schlee’s only season highlight in 1977. Bothered by a sprained thumb he suffered at the Masters, Schlee missed the cut in the U.S. Open by twelve strokes, then essentially dropped off the tour with a meager $17,397.45 in earnings. For the first time since his “lessons” with Ben Hogan (which he incessantly talked about to reporters, fans, and fellow touring pros), Schlee failed to crack the top one hundred in earnings.

  “I was hurting so bad at the Open last year,” he said the following spring, “that I quit the tour. I took the golf director’s job at Rancho Viejo [in Brownsville, Texas] and didn’t intend to play the tour again.”

  Schlee felt secure in his new career direction, and he invited Darryl Donovan to move in with him for the school year to sharpen his golf game at Rancho Viejo, under Schlee’s personal guidance. But Schlee did get one more shot on tour.

  With the help of fellow club professional Mike Morley, Schlee altered his extreme weak grip to relieve the pain in his thumb. He then sent Darryl back to Miami and began trying to Monday-qualify for tournaments. At first, he performed fairly well, twice making the cut in early season events, including a nineteenth-place finish in the Players Championship in March. And after one round of the Masters tournament two weeks later-his top-ten finish the previous sp
ring had earned him automatic entry—Schtee looked poised for another career turnaround.

  Schlee made the turn at one under, then promptly dropped to even par with a bogey at the start of Amen Corner. From there he birdied the next four holes to shoot 68 and earn sole possession of first place after round one.

  Despite Schlee’s injuries and his graying temples, his power remained fully intact: He was on the green in two on three of Augusta’s par-fives. His great first round placed him in elite company in Masters tournament history: In three consecutive rounds (the closing thirty-six holes in 1977 and the opening round in 1978), Schlee shot below 70 each time, becoming just the fifth man to do so.

  “I’m really not surprised that I’m leading,” he said. “I’ve worked real hard on my game lately. Every time I’d hit a practice shot back at my course in Rancho Viejo [Texas], I had the Masters course on my mind.”

  That opening round proved to be the final “lunar high point” of John Schlee’s PGA career. He suffered terrible back pain on Friday morning, and could barely get out of bed to play the second round. Schlee relied on his tremendous physical prowess to finish the tournament with rounds of 75-77-75, tied for forty-second place.

  Schlee played in only four more PGA events in 1978, earning just $835, then retired from tour competition. By no means was he embarrassing himself—not once did he score 80 or higher in 1978—but he could no longer earn a living once serious back problems reemerged. Although he had earned $1,850 for his performance at Augusta National, the week cost him more than $2,000: He still insisted on staying in a house complete with a chef and maid, flying first class, and driving a Mercedes.

  “How many millionaires do you think are on tour?” he hypothetically asked a reporter. “Maybe three. I mean those whose actual net worth is a million. Palmer, Nicklaus, and Player are about the only ones I can think of offhand.”

  The thought of living frugally and planning conservatively for the future never crossed John Schlee’s mind.

  SCHLEE HAD MANY CONCRETE IDEAS about how to swing a golf club. Although he liked to sell himself as Hogan’s Oracle, in fact, he was quite a teaching innovator on his own. In the decade following his retirement from the tour, Schlee became a nationally recognized golf instructor, leaving Rancho Viejo in 1979 to establish his own Maximum Golf School, first in Industry Hills, California (just east of Los Angeles), then, starting in 1985, in Carlsbad (north of San Diego).

  According to Schlee, he sought Hogan’s formal endorsement of his new school, but Hogan gently declined.

  “When I retired from competitive golf in 1978, I went to Ben Hogan with a plan for a golf school. I asked him, ‘Can I use your name?’

  “He fell silent for a long time. Then he said, ‘John, my name is all I have. I’ve worked all my life to develop adjectives that would please me when my name is mentioned. I would like to be involved with your golf school but my duties here at the Ben Hogan Company come first. I think it’s time for you to start building your own adjectives.

  “And so, my answer is no. When you want this school in your heart, ten years from now you will understand my answer. Go build your name from your guts out ... and love doing it!’”

  Schlee loved to scientifically narrate and pontificate about golf swing mechanics, but he did not enjoy being a full-time teacher of the game. Therefore, the Maximum Golf School featured a group of instructors that carried out much of the nitty-gritty, labor-intensive work with individual students: video-taping their swings and analyzing their faults to death. As Tom Bertrand, one of the school’s most devoted instructors, recalled, “John also passed all of the individual lessons my way, which I appreciated as an act of confidence in my abilities, but I knew that, like Hogan, John didn’t have the patience or the inclination to deal with students on a one-on-one basis.”

  Schlee had always struggled to be a patient, nurturing golf instructor. Early and late in his career, he held numerous club positions in Tennessee, Florida, Arizona, Texas, California, and Oregon. But his overtly direct and critical nature frequently discouraged his well-to-do students. Just as in Seaside and Memphis State, Schlee projected a transparent disdain for country clubbers who didn’t welcome him as their social equal. He simply wasn’t cut out for the full-time job of club professional.

  Schlee did feel comfortable lecturing to large groups of “students” about his ideas-as long as they didn’t talk back. He would not tolerate opposition, especially from a student who dared point out that some of his ideas were not consistent with Hogan’s. Schlee would rather return the money of disbelievers, and tell them to get the hell out of his school. Maximum Golf’s three-day weekend seminars were run with such fervor and demand for obedience that a third of the group would often quit the training before Sunday.

  Schlee’s school remained reasonably successful for a decade, and the staff he hired appreciated his passion, knowledge, and financial generosity. But expanding the school to national prominence just was not in the stars. Golfers struggled to implement (or even understand) Schlee’s complex and unorthodox golf ideas, and the overbearing, didactic way he ran the school was really not much fun. Many students didn’t get too far beyond the opening injunctions about how to address the ball.

  Replicating Schlee’s extremely weak grip was often too much for the students; as was Schlee’s instruction to load their weight almost entirely on their left side, from the start to the finish of the swing. Completing those two maneuvers—white making sure the right knee didn’t “bow out” on the “back turn,” and then “laying off” the club, with the right wrist appropriately “cupped” on the downswing—required radical adjustments that many good golfers were loath to make, and that were beyond the capacity of average golfers without injuring themselves.

  Many of Schlee’s ideas were ahead of their time, and they certainly worked for him. And several of the gadgets Schlee created to help students assume the appropriate swing positions proved quite useful for serious golfers—especially a device to promote a “cupped” right wrist (Greg Norman later acquired the legal rights to and marketed this gadget as the “Greg Norman Secret”). Some experts even consider Schlee the inventor of the modern-day “stack and tilt” approach to the golf swing, used by many of today’s top pros.

  “I think there will be a lot of changes in equipment in the next few years,” Schlee said in 1968, “and I’m doing some pioneering.”

  In his time, however, Schlee failed to popularize his ideas: just too many fundamentals, rules, and procedures for each and every body part for the average golfer to follow. And Schlee’s long-term commitment to the enterprise likely diminished when he received a negative response from Hogan, regarding Schlee’s request to endorse a book he’d written to spread his ideas.

  Hogan’s representatives told Schlee he wanted nothing to do with Schlee’s book. According to Bertrand, Hogan’s representatives punctuated their rejection by saying that Hogan “didn’t even remember John Schlee.” In actuality, he likely did know who John Schlee was: Hogan had gone out of his way to let Byron Nelson know just how displeased he was by Schlee’s unauthorized use of his name to market his school.

  By the late 1980s, Schlee’s enthusiasm for the Maximum Golf School had begun to wane, and his lectures didn’t seem as sharp as they had once been. With his Maximum Golf book (and the accompanying videotape) clearly not bound for great commercial success, Schlee had to generate alternative financial means. He experimented with a variety of putters (starting with the Taylor Raylor), and, along with other gadgets he invented and marketed, he managed to diversify these products of his livelihood.

  And by June 1989, Schlee found another source of income. He turned fifty that month and headed back onto the pro circuit—the senior circuit (because he ranked high enough on the PGA tour career earnings list, he was immediately eligible). Running the Maximum Golf School had kept Schlee from playing regularly—although he could still blast the ball on the driving range and dazzle students by making the ball do w
hatever he wanted—and his game was nowhere near tournament ready.

  Even on the Senior Tour, Schlee remained an ardent preacher of golf theory. In his second Senior Tour stop, the prestigious MONY Syracuse Senior’s Pro Golf Classic, Schlee played the Wednesday pro-am with local sports anchor Mike Tirico.

  “He’s already given me five lessons on nine holes,” said Tirico, who would one day be the lead voice for ABC/ESPN’s coverage of the NBA Finals, Monday Night Football, and the British Open.

  During that second half season of 1989, Schlee played in twelve events and earned $7,250: With travel and expenses, he struggled each week to break even. And he posted virtually identical numbers in 1990: twenty-four appearances, just over $14,000. Schlee’s days on the Senior Tour were proving to be as unprofitable as his last two years on the PGA Tour. The money he made marketing his long putters and selling equipment and gadgets to his fellow Senior Tour pros rivaled his share of the purses.

  Rocky Thompson, who won the Syracuse MONY tournament in 1991, attributed his success largely to the long-shafted putter he bought from Schlee for the extravagant sum of $650. Thompson could afford to help Schlee out, given the $60,000 winner’s check he took home; Schlee played in each round and earned only $500.

  After just two Senior Tour events in 1991, Schlee’s tournament playing career was over. Physical conditioning was a small factor in his retirement: His mental acuity had deteriorated.

  For the 1990 Transamerica tournament at Sonoma Golf Club, Darryl Donovan caddied for Schlee for the first time since 1976. Donovan—who a year later would join the pro tour—was now stationed at nearby Fort Ord, following overseas service flying AH-1 Cobra attack helicopters. He was delighted to see Schlee again and, knowing Schlee had not played well in his first year on the Senior Tour, eagerly offered his assistance.