ON WHOSE SHOULDERS WE STAND – The Black Caddie

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Years ago, when discussing this incredible work with Dr. Sinnette, this author knew he had the privilege of hearing from one of the great historical minds of our time. It is a great honor to offer readers this excerpt from Dr. Calvin H. Sinnette’s famous, extensively researched tome, which he masterfully penned in 1998.

Minority Golf Magazine strives to continue enlightening readers with historical contributions of minorities to the game of golf. Therefore, excerpts from Dr. Sinnette’s book, and those of other excellent writers, will periodically be featured in Minority Golf Magazine.

Forbidden Fairways by Dr. Calvin H. Sinnette

Chapter Three (Full Excerpt): Humpin’ Bags—The Black Caddie

Years ago, when discussing this incredible work with Dr. Sinnette, this author knew he had the privilege of hearing from one of the great historical minds of our time. It is a great honor to offer readers this excerpt from Dr. Calvin H. Sinnette’s famous, extensively researched tome, which he masterfully penned in 1998.

When New Years’ day of 1900 dawned on the nation, the plight of African Americans was largely unchanged from the situation that prevailed immediately after the Civil War. The all-too-familiar problem of poverty, unemployment, inadequate housing and a myriad of other social ills continued to beset black Americans. In such an environment, which was further aggravated by severe limitations of access, the number of black golfers remained pitifully small. It borders on the miraculous that a few were able to find the money, the time and a place to play.

Somewhat paradoxically, however, there was a small group of black golfers who played fairly regularly and whose numbers were growing. They were the country club caddies and, to a lesser degree, other black club employees. For the most part, they lived in the South and were both literally and metaphorically the backbone of early twentieth-century golf in the United States.

Photographs of black caddies taken during those early days suggest that many of them could not have been more than eight or nine years old. It was an era when flagrant abuses of child labor were widespread. Young souls labored from 14 to 16 hours a day, six days a week for a pittance. Working conditions in the mills and coal mines were so hazardous that many children were severely injured or even killed in work-related accidents. (1) But in the perverse logic of racial segregation, black youth, especially those in the South, were not allowed to work in the mills, and few were given the “opportunity” to toil in the coal mines of West Virginia or the glass foundries of Tennessee. This was a major reason why young African Americans of that generation worked as caddies in such disproportionate numbers. In the mind of the average white country club official, caddies were simply another segment of the black servant class who did not have a significant role to play in the nations’ growth.Another unfortunate belief, held even by those with a fair degree of social enlightenment, was the misconception that the caddie pursued his activities in much the same sort of idyllic natural surroundings as the farmer who was engaged in wholesome outdoor work. Consequently, when the crusade against child labor began to take hold, the young black caddie was overlooked, even though his working conditions often were as exploitive as those of his white counterparts in the industrial sector.

Ill-fed, ill-clad, and often barefoot, the black caddie appeared at the caddie shed shortly after dawn and remained on the course until late in the day. More often than not, he was required to travel considerable distances to and from the course. (2) Few of them went beyond elementary school, with the majority not completing more than the first three of four years. Their meals, eaten haphazardly, were of questionable nutritional value, and because the courses were often located far from neighborhood shopping areas, young caddies frequently were overcharged by nearby food vendors. During inclement weather, the youngsters had to seek shelter in the caddie shed. It was usually poorly lit, poorly ventilated, and poorly heated–an uncomfortable place to be in the chilly months of early spring and late fall. Constantly exposed to these conditions, the caddies were particularly vulnerable to a variety of respiratory ailments.

In his eagerness to earn as much as possible, a caddie often walked the full 18 holes three times in a single summer day, sometimes “carrying double” (two bags). This could mean walking as much as 12 to 15 miles, shouldering golf bags that might weigh from 20 to 50 pounds each. On a flat course in cool weather, the level of physical exertion would be bad enough. But on a hilly course under a broiling summer sun, the caddie was exposed to the perils of fatigue and heat exhaustion. At the end of the round, the caddie was also expected to clean the owner’s clubs and deposit them at a designated location.

In addition, it was not unusual for the caddie to turn over a portion of his earnings to the caddie master at the end of a round or at the end of the day. The caddie master made the assignments and a young caddie soon learned that he would have to satisfy the financial demands of the caddie master if he expected to earn an adequate income. He also learned that by becoming especially proficient at his job he quite possibly could become the favorite of a member who was a good tipper, a good golfer, or, preferably, both. By caddying regularly for one or more such members, he might also achieve a certain amount of independence from the whims or outright tyranny of the caddie master.

Due to a variety of reasons, however, even the most popular caddies were not working every hour of the day, every day of the week. There were long stretches of idleness that varied with the time of day, weather, season, and day of the week. To a lesser degree, these periods were also affected by events at the home club or at nearby clubs. The golfing-ambitious caddie often used this “downtime” to hone his playing skills, especially his short game. He might spend hours practicing “touch” shots with the short irons. At many courses, caddies were able to fashion a practice “green,” which might be nothing more than a patch of bare ground. Nevertheless, the improvised putting surface provided something of an opportunity to judge speed, slope, and distance. Sometimes, at the end of the day, a caddie would sneak in a short session of bunker play or other trouble shots. All of this prepared him for his weekly competition.

Once a week, usually Monday mornings, a large number of private clubs allowed employees to play the course. Those were the occasions when caddies, most likely playing with incomplete sets of hand-me-down clubs, took on their peers with intensity and daring that rivaled that of the top amateurs and many of the professionals. It was not uncommon for the best-playing caddies to shoot sub-par rounds during these Monday matches—some even set course records. (3) At times, club members placed bets on the outcomes. The wagering among the caddies themselves could be fast and furious as well. Of course, teasing, swearwords, and colorful speech were the order of the day.

* * *

Out of the caddie ranks emerged some of the finest golfers the country has ever seen. The golfing exploits of such ex-caddies as Gene Sarazen, Walter Hagen, Sam Snead, Ben Hogan, and Byron Nelson are well known. Less known are the caddying careers of black golfers Charlie Sifford, Ted Rhodes, and Lee Elder. Clyde Martin was another one of those highly-rated—but seldom mentioned—black golfers who began his career as a caddie. Born in southern Maryland, he began to caddie at the Congressional Country Club in Bethesda, Maryland in his pre-teen years. This was the period in the late 1920s when the renowned Tommy Armour held sway as the club’s professional. Armour soon recognized Martin’s golfing talents, and before long, he began to pit the young caddie against visitors looking for (betting) “action.” Martin rarely lost in those head-to-head matches but, following the “rules” of the day, he was never given the opportunity to play in national competition.

By 1939, however, his playing abilities were so well known in black golf circles that he was named as the club professional at the newly-opened (and segregated) Langston Golf Course in Washington D.C.

In less than 18 months after the Langston appointment, world heavyweight boxing champion Joe Louis hired Martin as his personal coach. Martin remained with Louis until 1942 when Louis went into the army. After the war, Martin played fairly regularly on the black golf circuit until his premature death in the early 1950s.

Virtually unknown to the golfing world are the deeds of a black golfer and caddie who was mentioned in a 1938 issue of United Golfer and Other Sports. This somewhat poorly edited magazine, no longer in print, was published monthly by the Fairview Golf Club in Philadelphia and contained a variety of sports and general interest items, with golf, featured prominently. Two articles appeared in a 1938 issue describing the golfing abilities of a caddie in superlatives comparable to those that have been written about today’s golfing sensation, Tiger Woods. The first article was a copy of a letter dated July 9, 1938. It was sent by Joseph Lavitt to the editor, Joseph H. Hudson.

 

Dear Sir:

 

In answer to yours of the 30th June, J.C. Hamilton is all that is claimed for him and if anything I think with continuous playing he could be the best golfers in the world on any golf course you could name.

 

Without doubt he is the longest driver in the world and his short game is not far behind.

Enclosed is an unsolicited newspaper article which will explain itself and in addition to this J.C. was asked to come down to the Norwich Country Club and exhibit for some of the staff of “Life” magazine. He accepted and promptly proceeded to outdo himself by driving a ball from the 18th tee to the green, a distance of 353 yards, of which 340 was on the fly.

To drive [a] 300-yard green is child’s play for him and to make 500-yard greens in two is also a cinch.

His full name and address is James C. Hamilton, Bradenton, Florida…

Especially significant was the short final paragraph of Lavitt’s letter:

I had him entered in the U.S. Open and due to him being a Negro my application and fee was returned.

Although the exact source of the second article in the same issue of the publication is not identified, it well might have been the “unsolicited newspaper article” mentioned in Lavitt’s letter. The towns that are mentioned suggest that the locale was either in the southern Maryland/northern Virginia area or in southern New England. The article reveals that Hamilton was in his early twenties, stood about five feet ten inches tall, and weighed about 165 pounds. When he was younger, Hamilton caddied for baseball pitcher “Dizzy” Dean when Dean was in Florida for spring training. Lavitt, who was the owner of a grain company in the town of Rockville, persuaded Hamilton to travel north to work for him.

Shortly after Hamilton arrived from Florida, the writer of the article was invited to observe the former caddie in action. The person who extended the invitation (probably Lavitt) stated that Hamilton could “…hit ‘em as far as any golfer I ever saw, and I have seen all of them these years I have been going to Florida.” Despite these claims, the writer was unconvinced until he followed the “colored boy” on a round at the Manchester Golf Course. In short order, the skeptic joined the ranks of the believers. “His prize feat that day,” wrote the new convert, “was driving the 10th green which is a few yards over 300 and with a slight rise before the green. Here ‘J.C’ lashed into one and the ball soared to come to rest about eight feet from the pin.” Overwhelmed by what he had seen, the writer continued to praise him effusively:

But even the tee I saw him hit out there left me unconvinced that he could give Jimmy Thompson a real battle in long-distance hitting.

It was wiser, I felt, to wait until someone (sic) better qualified than I could put an official stamp of approval on this transplanted southern caddy (sic).

This morning I got the official stamp of approval.

It came from Barney Gunshinan, professional at the Norwich Golf Club where “J.C.” played a round Friday afternoon.

Barney raved about him over the phone this morning. “He’s as long a hitter as I have ever seen,’ he said, ‘and I have seen Jimmy Thompson. I never happened to get a chance to watch Sammy Snead but I’ll back this kid against anyone I have ever seen hit. He sure can smack ‘em.’

Barney stopped for breath and went on. ‘You know our first hole—it is 327 yards. Well, this kid drove that green twice. The first time he carried the green and was about five feet past the cup. That is a real smack…

‘All the way around,’ Barney continued, this boy was hitting terrific drives. You know our 16th hole? Well, it is 559 yards. J.C. cut the corner here and with his second shot was six feet from the cup. I need a brassie and an approach shot to get home there after my tee shot. The interesting thing about this boy making it in two was that his second had to be hit out of a cuppy lie.

J.C.’s whole game is good. The day I had the first viewing of him over at the Manchester he was putting badly being unused to the greens, but he was even par when I left…

On a recent Sunday, Rockville’s new and long-hitting citizen invaded Franconia at Springfield and scores of golfers halted play to watch him… (4)

The writer was even more amazed when he learned that until three weeks earlier, J.C. had never owned a complete set of clubs. It was then that Lavitt, realizing the golfing potential of his new employee, bought J.C. a new bag and a new set of clubs. And all of J.C.’s feats were accomplished long before the advent of high compression balls, graphite shafts, and woods made with space-age metals.

There was a fleeting mention of J.C. in the July 25, 1942, issue of the Chicago Defender in which he was referred to as “George Hamilton (of) Bradentown (sic) Fla., thought by many observers to be the longest driver in American golf.” Nothing further is known about Hamilton’s subsequent career. Like so many other talented African American golfers, he simply disappeared into golfing oblivion. If United Golfer and Other Sports had not existed, the little that is known about J.C. Hamilton’s remarkable golfing achievements never would have surfaced.

It makes one wonder if there were other “J.C. Hamiltons” over the years…who never received any attention.

* * *

The longer he worked at it, the more knowledgeable the young caddie became about the game, the course, and the people whose bags he carried.  Besides improving his ability to follow the flight of the ball, the maturing caddie developed a keen sense of distance. “How far?” was the most frequent question asked of him by the golfers, and he had to be able to reckon distances accurately from any spot on the course. He also had to be thoroughly familiar with local hazards, the texture of the grass on the greens, the “feel” of the sand in the bunkers, the places where the wind swirled, and the dangers that lurked behind and alongside the greens. Although he could not make a ruling, the caddie had to have more than a nodding acquaintance with the rules of the game. An understanding of, and appreciation for, proper golf etiquette was important as well. Perhaps the greatest asset to the aspiring caddie lay in his capacity to assess the physical and mental qualities of the person for whom he was caddying. One writer summed it up admirably when he remarked:

“Caddying … is a lot more than lugging a heavy bag of clubs. The caddy is an amateur meteorologist and psychologist, an authority on his own course with a knowledge of the rules of the game. He is the player’s helper, rooter and coach, [and in championship golf] his bodyguard and protector from the crowd, his toughest critic and his best friend.” (5)

While the caddie had to deal with the psychological problems of the golfer, he also had to handle his own personal problems. During the long hours of idleness, caddies frequently developed lifestyles that were detrimental to their well-being. They often smoked heavily, abused alcohol, and gambled. Some neglected their families and their own health care. Yet there were others who were responsible and respected members of their communities. Often deeply religious, they foreswore the vices, lived frugally, and used their meager earnings to sustain a cohesive household. Because most of them had failed to complete their education, these men of integrity did their utmost to ensure the education of their children.

Of all the indignities endured by African American service employees, none is more bitterly resented than being treated as a non-person. Things were said or done in their presence as if they did not exist. Generations of black servants, bellhops, waitresses, and Pullman car porters knew they had to accept this denial of their humanity if they wanted to keep their jobs. Before World War II, for example, it was not unusual for a golfing publication to contain a photograph of a group of white golfers with their black caddies. In the accompanying caption, the golfers are usually identified by name but the caddies are not.

An even more dramatic demonstration of this kind of callous insensitivity was described by syndicated columnist Dewayne Wickham in a gripping account of his life as a black orphan living in the Cherry Hill ghetto of Baltimore. Desperately needing a job, the preadolescent Wickham obtained employment as a caddie at one of the all-white country clubs on the outskirts of the city. One day while caddying for two female club members, he overheard one of them tell the other of an extramarital affair she was having with one of the male club members. She described her activities in intimate detail without the slightest regard for his presence. Young Dewayne was not trying to eavesdrop; the woman merely carried on her conversation without any attempt to lower her voice. But that was not the end of the incident. Wickham was totally unprepared for what happened a few moments later:

“As we walked away from her playing partner, the woman looked over her shoulder several times as though to measure the separation. Then, when the spacing was just right, she farted. The sound was unmistakable, a staccato eruption of body gas. She didn’t look at me and she didn’t offer a word of apology. And why should she? By now it was all too clear to me that I didn’t matter. My being around hadn’t mattered when she shared her adulterous secrets. And it surely didn’t matter when she had to fart.  I was the ‘Invisible Man’ Ralph Ellison had written about in 1952—one of those black men white people so often don’t see not because we’re hidden from their view, but because they choose not to acknowledge our presence.” (6)

Whenever they gather, caddies of bygone years—both black and white—tell similar variations of Wickham’s experiences. One of the big differences between black and white caddies in those days was the fact that whites did not have to accept this treatment for long. Simply because of their skin color, they had more opportunities to find other work; blacks had to put up with it. Many—even today—have never forgiven those who treated them as inanimate objects. In spite of the indignities, these proud men were an integral part of golf’s rich tapestry. If there is any doubt, a recent episode should set the record straight.

On Monday morning, April 10, 1995, the sports pages of newspapers across the United States and some foreign countries carried the story of American golfer Ben Crenshaw’s victory in the Master’s Tournament at the August National Golf Club in Augusta, Georgia. In most cases, the written account was accompanied by a photograph of Crenshaw and his African American caddie, Carl Jackson, taken moments after Crenshaw sank the winning put. For four grueling days, these two men had worked, plotted, prayed, and labored to overcome the challenges of the unforgiving and deceptively treacherous Augusta course. Captured in the pictorial tableau is the story worth the proverbial million words. Two men—one black, one white—bonded by a common experience, joyful yet humbled by the glory of the moment. The diminutive Crenshaw, emotionally drained and in tears, is being supported and embraced by the larger, comforting frame of Jackson. The ordeal was over and now they could release the enormous tension that had accumulated since the opening day of the tournament.

But there were other aspects of the photograph that relate to issues much broader and deeper than a sporting victory. They deal with a nation’s tortured past that is enmeshed in the twisted contradictions of injustice, benevolence, loyalty, hatred, trust, and fear. For that brief moment, though, the two men had transcended the past and had come to terms with a shared humanity based on interdependence, talent, mutual respect, confidence, and determination. To be sure, financial considerations were important to both. But they were neither the sole nor the overriding concern. In many ways, that photograph is not only a window into the lives of many generations of black caddies but a vindication of their perception of self-esteem as well, regardless of how others might try to make them invisible.

On any given day, unless the weather is exceptionally grim, former caddies can be found clustered in small groups in or near a golf course clubhouse. The scene is almost identical whether they gather at Rogers Park Golf Course in Tampa, Florida, at Langston Golf Course in Washington, D.C., or at Palmer Park Golf Course in Detroit, Michigan. They are the last of a fast-fading generation of black caddies who have been retired by age, infirmity, the motorized golf cart, or some combination of the three.

Caddie Carl Jackson said farewell in Ben Crenshaw’s final Masters, an Augusta native who first caddied in the Masters at age 14 in 1961.

With colorful nicknames such as “Killer,” “Lips,” and “Cut Shot,” they begin to arrive after the heavy morning road traffic has subsided. Many eat breakfast and their midday meal at the golf course. The meals are not large in bulk, but because of their high fat and sugar content, they are loaded with calories. The clothes of some are out of fashion and frayed, and their speech is laced with wit, sarcasm and expletives. Many smoke heavily with a casual disregard for the opinions and sensibilities of others. Some are also without the benefit of health or retirement insurance, and they frequently live on their Social Security benefits that may be supplemented by support from family members. It would be wrong, however, to believe that they lead lives of unrelieved misery. With few traces of bitterness, they prefer to recall the acts of kindness shown to them by the golfing public (sometimes even to their families) rather than dwell on the ugliness and hardships of the past.

Many of these elderly black men no longer have a spring in their step; it disappeared over the years as they trudged down untold fairways with large golf bags on their shoulders. In the course of their careers, some caddies have even had to undergo scrutiny by Secret Service officials (President Dwight Eisenhower was a member of Augusta National), endure repeated questions from the media, withstand tasteless intrusions by autograph seekers, and listen to bigoted comments from members of a gallery. Yet, a gleam comes into their eyes as they recall the excitement of a long-forgotten match or the shotmaking of a, particularly gifted player.

The caddie who carried for a player in a modern major tournament had to make detailed preparations for such an event. He arrived at the course at dawn’s first light to pace off distances and to make sure that bags contained no more than the allowed 14 clubs. An up-to-date yardage book, an umbrella, and an ample supply of balls and towels were important “musts.” During inclement weather, it might be necessary to add rain gear, an extra sweater, and winter gloves. The caddie might also carry assorted items such as adhesive tape, resin, talcum powder, candy bars, fruit, chewing gum, and cigarettes. It is easy to see how the load could exceed 40 pounds.

Veteran caddies are proud men who firmly believe that theirs was “a very respectable profession.” After a lifetime of observing presidents, royalty, celebrities, congressmen, business tycoons, and members of the clergy, many are often shrewd judges of the human condition. Few things escape their eyes and ears, and they have the memories of elephants. Whether it is Greg Norman’s misfortune on the last day of the 1996 Masters or some unknown golfer’s failure to sink an 18-inch putt on the final green, the grizzled caddie is convinced that “everybody has a choke [level].” (7)

That pithy observation aptly reveals an acute appreciation of human frailty under duress. In such situations, an experienced caddie knew that he had to be a steadying influence on his golfer and get him or her back on track. Before the recent emergence of the consulting sports psychologist, the caddie often filled that role using a variety of techniques (today it’s called “behavior modification”) learned not from theory but from years of experience and shared knowledge passed by word of mouth from one caddie to the next.

Unfortunately, less than 10 years after the end of World War II, signs began to appear that the caddie ranks were shrinking. A variety of attempts were made to stem the decline. Caddies were offered more money, caddie shacks were renovated and equipped with more amenities, and parking facilities and recreational games were provided. Caddiemasters visited local high schools to recruit students for summer employment. A number of college financial assistance programs for caddies with good scholastic records (the Evans Scholarship, for example) were launched with great expectations. Despite these efforts, the number of caddies nationwide has steadily decreased and, for all intents and purposes, caddies are now an “endangered species.” Many of the remaining black country club caddies see themselves as a dying breed and openly predict that they will cease to exist by the year 2010. They also predict that the number of black caddies on the major tours will continue to decline. (8)

Why has this happened? First and foremost was the arrival of the motorized golf cart on the national scene, followed closely by the installation of concrete paths to accommodate the carts. For older golfers and those less inclined to walking, a motorized cart was an appealing way to get through 18 holes of golf. Furthermore, the cost of renting a cart, when shared by two players, was usually cheaper for each player than the use of a caddie. In recent years, college graduates and family members of touring professionals have chosen to caddie as a way of making a living. These new caddies, although relatively few in number, have had an adverse impact on the earnings of some club caddies.

All Masters participants were required to use local Black Augusta National Golf Club caddies until 1983.

Another blow to caddiedom came when the PGA Tour permitted professional golfers to use their own caddies instead of the caddies at the club where an event was being held. This effectively erased yet another major source of income for the club caddie. When, in 1983, Augusta National Golf Club revoked a long-cherished rule prohibiting professional golfers from using caddies from outside the club pool, it was tantamount to the last straw. As one journalist observed, “It changed the look of the Masters forever. No longer was each player flanked by a black man in a white jumpsuit, both of them framed by emerald green…” He commented further: “…In emotional terms, being muscled out of the Masters was a blow to their self worth and dignity.” (9)

Rightly or wrongly, Augusta’s caddies felt their situation was unique and deserved special consideration. In contrast to other country club caddies who have accepted their fate with resignation, the Augusta National caddies who were affected by the 1983 decision are a small group of disillusioned, disgruntled, and unforgiving men. More than a decade later, their wounds are unhealed.

Despite the many incentives that are offered, it is particularly difficult to interest black youth in caddying. One major deterrent is the subservient, “Uncle Tom” image of the caddie in the minds of the younger generation of African Americans. Moreover, caddying is a strenuous affair, done at times in uncomfortable weather and for long hours without particularly attractive incomes. Even if it were possible to surmount these hurdles, it seems unrealistic to believe that black youngsters can or should be persuaded to look upon caddying as a viable career choice. The African American caddie, however, has had an integral role in the development of golf in the United States and his probably inevitable demise should be regarded with regret. His departure will close an important chapter in sports history.

Notes from Chapter 3:

 

  1. Lewis Hine, Kids At Work (New York: Clarion Books, 1004), 32.
  2. Throughout the research, the author has not been able to identify one African American female caddie.
  3. Wilbur Young, “No Golfer’s a Hero to His Caddy; But Many Would Be Easy Victims,” New York Amsterdam News, August 17, 1940, 15.
  4. Unnamed author, “Yes Sir, J.C. Can Hit That Golf Ball: Rockville Gets Long Hitting Citizen.” United Golfer And Other Sports, 3(1938), 11.
  5. John R. Tunis, “Caddy Crisis,” New York Times Magazine, June 8, 1952, 56.
  6. Dewayne Wickham, Woodholme (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1995), 73-74.
  7. Unnamed former caddie, personal interview by author at Joseph M. Bartholomew, Sr. Municipal

Golf Course, New Orleans, LA, on December 11, 1995.

  1. Joseph Hall, active caddie, personal interview by author at Congressional Country Club, Potomac, MD, on December 30, 1996.
  2. Jaime Diaz, “The Men the Masters Forgot,” Golf Digest, April 19, 1993, 132-139.

For information on how to obtain a copy of Dr. Sinnette’s book, Forbidden Fairways, contact: editor@minoritygolfmag.com or Sleeping Bear Press, 121 South Main, P.O. Box 20, Chelsea, MI 48118, www.sleepingbearpress.com

 

 

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