| The past several summers I have seen Boston youths working at the Wright. Most were raking and bagging leaves and some, wearing white shirts and chinos, were caddying. They brought me back sixty years plus ago when caddies were the entire youth force on the course. I am assuming that there was a hiatus when the onset of golf carts replaced them. The carts were profitable for those who rented them but deprived the local boys of income and both they and the golfers of exercise. And, I presume, of the more visceral experiences we earlier loppers had. Caddying for us was first and foremost a means of providing the cash not available to us from most of our hard scrabble family finances. At least 80% of the kids that were physically able and lived within walking distance of the course gave caddying a try. Perhaps 50% of those 9 to 15 years of age, stayed. My connection was with those of us that looped between 1942 and 1950. The earlier caddies, such as John Crowley, Marvin Schwab, Chicky Chicerella, Jimmy Gaita, Joey Reardon and others were golfers themselves by then. My group was mostly neighbors, such as- Eddy Mulrey, John Hurley, Jakie Ryan, Jocko Murry, Berni Zysinski, Tommy Eagan, Leo McCormick, the Flynns, Lads, Ridies, Haige, Bobo Olson, and many more people. Most initiates to the caddy fraternity were expected to shag balls for lessons given by Bill Taylor. A quarter was flipped to us when the session was completed. Actually, it was fun catching those pop fly’s and grounders. I did well enough at his as my first effort in bag toting was for James M. Curley. He opened the golf season by hitting a ball of the first tee. I carried his bag to the tee, watched him take a swipe, and return with him to his car. An aid of his gave me a dollar which was a huge boon for ten minutes work. The caddy master, Jim Ohare, gave me that opportunity, in 1943, I think, because my Dad was serving in world war two. The caddy tasks started with the sign up with the caddy master. He would list you but gave preference to those whom some golfers requested. We all sat along the wall and promenade semi circling the back of the club house. We entertained our selves with hurling personal epithets at each other as adolescence are wont to do. We pitched pennies, played three card brag, and excoriated the poor and non tippers for whom we dreaded to caddy for. We would even hide when we saw any of the miserable cheap skates approach the clubhouse. Most of our business was done on Saturdays and Sundays. Jim, the starter, recorded the playing groups using a tube like devise that held about forty golf balls. A party was called by the name of the next ball up. A foursome that had at least two caddies (hopefully with two doubles) one caddy walked advance ahead to the fore caddie position so as to mark the balls that ended up in the rough, lo unto us if we ever lost a golfers ball. This bane of all caddies would stigmatize us for the round and most likely would affect our tip. Our arrival time on the course was of paramount concern. Early out meant early finish (5 to 6 hours). We then could go home or try an other round if the were available. We Catholics (and we were legion) attended seven am Mass on Sundays (or we would burn in hell) we all went th the Most Precious Church, sat in the back and snuck out early until the parish acquired an ex cop who saved his soul by joining the priesthood. He would wait in the foyer would literally boot us back into Church until the service was over. My proficiency as a caddy started after I attended a summer caddy camp in 1946 at Wentworth by the Sea in New Hampshire. I joined the more “mature” caddies that could carry doubles and got more loops. I t was a physical and mental challenge lugging two bags weighing thirty to forty pounds back and fourth across the fairways for more than six miles. A necessity for this effort was water on any day hot or cool. The Wright had three fountains, one of which still stands behind the 18th green but does not work. One was at the confluence of the 4th, 5th, 6th. We were not always thirsty there; the concession stand on the tenth tee was a toss up for us as we never had money to purchase a drink ourselves and depended on the generosity of our golfers. Most bought us at least a drink; some would even include a hot dog. The “golfers” we hid from would turn their backs on us with a hint of disdain. The fountain that was just of the thirteenth green was our oases. We would push each other aside, after our golfers finished lingering over the heavy stream of cool water. The “cheapies” I mentioned, subjected themselves to the “canvas rough” as we knew we would not get paid anymore than the required $1.25 per round. And that we would have to wait for it in the club house porch. Fortunately there were those that were generous and even compassionate. My favorites were Santisi and Bove who were mediocre golfers but always paid three dollars a bag, bought snacks, and were sincerely interested in our lives. Caddy day was held every Monday from seven am to twelve pm. We could play for free! We handicapped each other quite well and divided ourselves into competitive foursomes. We played twenty-five cent Nassau. Our equipment was old and minimal but we learned to hit a variety of shots. We also carried the most undamaged golf balls in our pocket to putt with. When I see the golf channel portraying today’s Izod use proclaiming the great life lessons they garner from golf: honesty, integrity, etc, I remember our side of the coin where most everything went to distract your opponent and language was insulting enough to push the boundaries to out and out pushing and shoving. There was little camaraderie when competition was involved. We conducted our matches much like hockey is played professionally. And to this day there is little that will distract me when I play. The shell I developed then still remains. |
Caddy "Daze"
George Wright Golf Course - A Memoir by Fred Steele
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