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  In Greece, closely interwoven with the highest civilization the world has ever known, were the Olympian and Pythian games. There was no greater influence in moulding the natural character of the Greeks than these public contests. Games should be no less a factor in the higher civilization of mankind today than they were centuries ago. England in its way has long followed Greece in encouraging outdoor sports of all kinds, greatly to her benefit, while America has but lately awakened as to what they can do for a nation.

  In the intensity of business life in America (few there are as yet who escape its thraldom), persons of strong individuality pass one another unsympathetically in the so-called social life in our great business centers, judging one another solely from an office standpoint. Let these same men spend a day golfing and they will quickly discover unsuspected qualities in one another which they will love and respect. In this sense, as Matthew Arnold expresses the advancement of the higher life, golf, it may be said, “maketh for righteousness.”

  As for the game, it is not violent. It can be played with more or less vigor in accordance with one’s desires, and while absorbing does not engender great fatigue. Three rounds of 18 holes on the Links briskly and earnestly played will give one a good day’s serious exercise. Should one feel too tired for exertion, he can putt on the ladies’ green (probably with much improvement to his game), which requires little more effort than croquet. Men, women, and children can all play and be interested, expressing, maintaining, and developing their individuality. Notwithstanding the “Golf Widow” stories, it does not divorce a man from his family; it is no unusual sight abroad to see son, father, and grandfather playing in the same foursome, and in America mixed foursomes are an every day occurrence on every course. Children take as keen a delight in the game as their elders, and with them it means a splendid development of chest and figure.

  In the adoption of the game in this country it was feared the tradition and spirit would be Americanized out of it; happily, innovations have been rare, and not half as much fault is found with American golf as one frequently hears the “Englished” golf.

  So far in America there has appeared no disposition to modify or accentuate any of the points of the game. The game has been played in Scotland for many centuries, and, like most other things in life, in its simplicity lies its beauty.

  The formation of the United States Golf Association while the game was yet in its infancy, has done much toward ensuring its healthy development. Fortunately, for golf, the Association secured an ideal president in the late Theodore A. Havemeyer, Esq. Under him the association commanded a representative authority — insured uniformity in rules and became a final court in matters of controversy. The golfing world has much to bless his memory for. Old errors are difficult to remedy, but the association was formed before errors became habits, and by enforcing rigid adherence to the rules it has preserved the game to us in all its pristine excellence.

  The ideal first-class golf links has yet to be selected and the course laid out in America. No course can be called first class with less than 18 holes. A sandy soil sufficiently rich to take turf is the best. Long Island is a natural links. A first-class course can only be made in time. It must develop. The proper distance between the holes, the shrewd placing of bunkers and other hazards, the perfecting of putting greens, all must be evolved by a process of growth, and it requires study and patience.

  Mr. Horace Hutchinson says: “Of all known rollers, beaters and levellers of the ground, none is so good as the human foot in sufficient frequency;” and that is true.

  The Chicago Golf Club’s course is a first-class inland course— probably no better inland course in existence—but the ideal course must be by the sea and on links proper.

  I wonder what Eastern club will first grasp the situation! Good golf can now be found at Meadowbrook, Newport, Shinnecock, Morristown, Knollwood, St. Andrews, etc., etc., but it is far from being ideal golf.

  In concluding this article I wish to refer to three frequent errors made in speaking of the game. The implement played with is called a club and not a stick or a bat. There are 18 holes in the course on the links and not 18 links on the course. Links was originally plural, but now to golfers it signifies the ground the game is played over, and is, therefore, also used in the singular. Jamieson in his Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language gives it as a Scotch word, originally meaning the numerous windings of a river.

  “The Lairdship of the bonny Links of Forth Is better than an Earldom in the North.”

  —Nimmo’s Sterlingshire.

  Secondly, it meant the rich ground lying among the windings of the river.

  “Attune the lay that should adorn

  Ilk verse descriptive o’ the morn,

  When round Forth’s Links o’ waving corn

  Frae broomy know to whitening thorn,

  He raptured ran.”

  —McNeil’s Poems.

  Links is also applied to the sandy, flat ground on the seashore usually covered by bent grass, furze, etc. Later the name was transferred, but improperly, to ground not contiguous to the sea, the probable reason being that it having been customary to play golf on the Links of Leith and on the Links of St. Andrews, the name came to be applied to any ground on which the game of golf is played.

  I once asked an Oxford professor the pronunciation of a word about which there was much dispute, dictionaries disagreeing. Giving me the pronunciation, I asked him his authority, to which he replied: “The authority of the University of Oxford. We know no dictionary.” In the old university town of St. Andrews the word golf is pronounced “Goff.” In the latter part of the 16th, and in the 17th century, the word was spelled goff, gowff, gowf and gouf, but most commonly goff, and such is its pronunciation today.

  —Dec. 15, 1897

  PART I

  GOLF HISTORY

  Photo By Nancy Brown

  THE STORY BEHIND THE RISE OF AMERICAN GOLF

  ROGER HENRY WETHERED, JOYCE WETHERED

  In these days, when sport looms large in the public eye and is even conducted upon a scale of international rivalry, golf has by no means lagged behind in popular favour. France has for many years been represented in our championships, and other countries have also played their part; but it is only recently that American golfers have sprung to such great prominence as almost to threaten our golfing supremacy. In the summer of 1920 I had the good fortune to accompany Lord Charles Hope and Mr. Cyril Tolley in a golfing expedition to the United States, and we had ample opportunities to study the American amateurs playing on their own courses and engaging in important matches among themselves. It was both interesting and illuminating. It is true that crowds of spectators watched their play on the links of Hoylake and St. Andrews last year, but not many keen followers of the game in this country have recently been privileged to see them similarly engaged under their own conditions; and it is there, I think, that they are to be seen at their fullest advantage and displaying their real genius. For this reason I have ventured to introduce a chapter on American golf, even if it only professes to be little more than a record of the impressions which I gathered there, together with occasional references to the methods of British golfers, in so far as they present a contrast to those more generally employed across the water. These comparisons, I might mention, will deal only with amateur players unless a statement is made to the contrary.

  At the outset I should like to make it clear that my attitude is not that of an alarmist, but rather that of a sincere admirer of American golfers and of the grand manner in which they play this game of difficulties. We enjoyed a unique experience in seeing our friendly rivals make the game look supremely easy upon their own intricate courses. It was possible to observe their methods with some care while they were contesting their own Amateur Championship; and I am not overstating our feelings when I say that we received something of a shock on that occasion. The prospect of a successful invasion of this country no longer appeared an unlikely event. The F
inal was in some ways the most impressive display of golf I have witnessed; and it is no exaggeration to describe the golf of Mr. Evans and Mr. Ouimet as not only brilliant, but brilliantly consistent. Against Mr. Evans that day par golf was worse than useless; and although Mr. Ouimet stuck rigidly to the correct figures, he was beaten on the twenty-ninth green. In this way the favourable rumours of American golf were verified with a vengeance, and we Englishmen returned home in October much chastened in spirit, and convinced that we had seen amateur golf played in the manner of the best professionals.

  The next year the American batteries were unmasked at Hoylake and St. Andrews; and although the result did not lead to Great Britain’s complete discomfiture, it became evident enough that the United States had of recent years built up a first-class school of golf without the assistance of very old traditions or the advantages which we are supposed to enjoy in this country.

  The record of the Americans’ achievements last summer may be briefly reviewed. They won the Amateur International Match without the slightest difficulty. It would indeed have been a triumphal procession had it not been for Mr. Tolley’s fine performance in the top match, which did much to restore our confidence in view of the Championship during the following week. America outplayed us in the foursomes. Here, at any rate, we might have been expected to hold our own; but tradition availed us nothing. As a distinguished golfer remarked with some justice after the foursomes that morning, ‘Duncan and Mitchell should have played Evans and Jones.’

  The Amateur Championship title was retained on these shores, and our fighting spirit worthily upheld by Mr.Tolley, Mr.Graham, Mr. Darwin, and others, who did great execution in the American ranks. But it must in all fairness be said that at no time during the week did our adversaries display anything of that form which won for them the International Match of the previous Saturday. Either they were stale, or the unfamiliar terrors of Hoylake had by then made their presence felt. At any rate, their severest critics could not maintain that they showed their true form, even in those matches which they succeeded in winning.

  The Open Championship Cup has crossed the Atlantic for the first time, and the pride of British golf has been dealt a severe blow. The invaders were all there or thereabout, and they accomplished beyond the shadow of a doubt a very notable achievement.

  This is how the situation in Great Britain stands in relation to American golf. For the rest, our amateur champion made a gallant effort to restore our prestige in the States, but climate and conditions were necessarily against him. Duncan and Mitchell were likewise unable to secure the highest honours in the American Open Championship. Britain had for the first time in the history of the game come off second best.

  These are the bare facts of the case, and it seems probable that our golfing supremacy has been definitely threatened. In looking for the causes I can suggest that it is due probably to one of two things, or perhaps a combination of both. Either British golf has deteriorated, in that, despite a high standard of excellence, it is for the moment unable to create sufficient players of commanding genius; or the United States has actually produced, in their leading exponents of the game, players of a very exceptional merit. I do not believe that our present golfers of the front rank, professional or amateur, have maintained the standard of Vardon, Braid, or Taylor amongst the professionals; or that the level of Mr. John Ball and Mr. Hilton, when at the height of their fame, has been approached in the amateur ranks of today. Individual performances may compare in a favourable light with the exploits of the past, but that element of consistency, which is a part of real genius, is noticeably absent. One consideration, however, must be borne in mind, that owing to the far greater number of competitors engaged nowadays, golfing ability has developed into something of the nature of hit or miss. To survive these large fields demands a sustained brilliance, whereas steadiness of a high order of merit might in past years have proved sufficient for the purpose. Against this it must be admitted that Hutchison, Barnes, and Hagen generally take it in turn to capture the various American championships in which they compete; and upon those occasions, when they have been debarred the highest honours, they have nevertheless secured places high up on the list. This fine level of consistency is also noticeable amongst the American amateurs. The title has been generally held amongst a small group, including Mr. Evans, Mr. Ouimet, Mr. Travers, and Mr. Gardiner. The victory of Mr. Guildford was not altogether a surprise, and the championship may be said to be well within the grasp of Mr. Jones, Dr. Paul Hunter, Mr. Wright, or Mr. Wood Platt, who hold distinguished positions in American golf by reason of the consistency of their performances. The same thing can scarcely be said of British amateur golf. It has been in a state of flux since the war, and the chief events have been of a very open description. There are indeed no certainties in golf; but British golf especially has recently been of a more uncertain character than usual.

  It is because of this great virtue of consistency that American golfers are well worth a close study. They seem to have contributed something towards the determination of correct golfing methods. Their play has not developed on haphazard lines. With typical thoroughness they have sought to extract the essential principles of the various strokes and to establish a particular style. During the last twenty years they have learned their lesson from the practical examples of the great masters of the game in this country; and all that was known in British golf was transplanted to American soil by professionals who went to reside there or to compete in their championships. The knowledge stored up in books was available for their well-being or their undoing. They had no lack of material upon which they might build up their own school, and in the process of assimilation they seem to have exercised an admirable discretion.

  In my attempts to lay stress upon the chief characteristics of American golf, it will be seen that the principles upon which they have worked are constructed upon the orthodox lines advocated in this country, but with this additional precaution, that they have endeavoured, as far as possible, to cut out the non-essentials—those golfing frills and unnecessary trick shots—which lead to the downfall of many a promising player, and to concentrate solely upon the perfecting of one special shot with each club. In this way the game is made easier, and there is no doubt that under American conditions and upon their own courses this simplification reaps its reward.

  In the first place the courses conform to a type which we associate with ‘inland golf.’ The fairways are narrow or moderately so, and the drive in this case must always be straight. If excursions to the heavy rough flanking the fairway are indulged in, the penalty is usually the loss of a clear stroke, since the chances of a big recovery are reduced to a minimum. Owing to the calmness of the weather conditions the drive from the tee can therefore be reduced to a mechanical process, and clean, straight hitting may be employed time after time without the interference of disconcerting blasts of wind at awkward angles. Similarly, there is seldom occasion to make use of a cross wind in order to gain an extra yard or so with the wooden clubs. Straightness, therefore, is the outstanding virtue from the tee. The second shot is usually anything from a driving-iron to a mashie niblick. The green is often built up upon a plateau, and is strongly fortified with deep bunkers, usually to the side, leaving a narrow opening for a running shot if it should be attempted. The American golfer as a rule finds the all-air route the safer, provided he can impart sufficient back spin; and this is the stroke which he plays with the regularity of clock-work with all his clubs. He has developed this shot in such a manner that, provided he is a finished player, he can hit ball after ball with that gradually rising flight which denotes the application of back spin; and since each shot is played easily he becomes a fine judge of distance. Those American amateurs, whom I had the good fortune to watch in their championship matches, seemed able at their best to pitch their full iron shots in exactly the right place with the precision of a professional executing a short approach. The back spin which they imparted had no side spin, so far a
s it was possible to see, and the ball upon its bounce proceeded in a straight line in prolongation of the direction of the stroke. If any slight error had been committed, the tendency might be observed for the ball to pull up upon its pitch from right to left. In Great Britain this shot usually comes in from left to right; in fact, such a tendency is regarded as a hall-mark of good iron play. With a mashie niblick the amount of back spin imparted by the Americans is terrific, and I have seen Mr. Bobby Jones obtain this result without the assistance of ribs or slots cut in the face of his club. It is the practice of this one and the same shot with all iron clubs that has—up to a point—made the Americans perfect. Their attention has not been unduly attracted to those variations of stroke that delight the golfing critic here. The lack of wind in which to hold up the shot may account for a certain absence of such artistic feats abroad, and the determination of the American amateur to stick sternly to business may dissuade him from attempting them.

  One or two characteristics in the American manner of playing the game may be worth noticing. They are mannerisms, but they are a means to an end—the simplification of golf. Particularly noticeable is the minuteness of the waggle. The golf books and our instructors would have us believe that a judicious freedom in our preliminary address assists in loosening the wrists, and suggests something of the rhythmic requirements of the swing. I will not maintain that this embraces all the argument in favour of the supple waggle, but I would point out that any initial stiffness of the wrists would have worked off before many holes had been played, and that if the rhythm of the swing is not already present in the mind, the fullest waggle cannot recall it. What, then, is the importance of the waggle? Surely it is only this: that by waving the club slightly over the object ball it is possible to determine whether you are standing at your customary and comfortable distance from it, and whether your stance is in accordance with your meditated stroke. If this be the whole truth, then the insignificance of the American’s preparation to strike the ball is sufficient for the purpose. On the other hand, the danger of the large waggle has not been generally recognised. It tends to disturb the balance of the body, induces a slackness of the right knee, unless care is exercised, and is inclined to exaggerate the turning movement of the shoulders and upper part of the body, which should only operate late in accordance with the relentless pull of the arms during the swing. The waggle, therefore, that some of the leading American players affect only serves the useful purpose of establishing a comfortable position and no more.