CONCERNING CADDIES
Varieties of caddies--Advice to a left-handed player--Cock-shots at
Ganton--Unearned increments--An offer to carry for the fun of the
thing--The caddie who knows too much--My ideal caddie--His
points--The girl caddie--A splendid type--Caddies' caustic
humour--Some specimens of it--Mr. Balfour's taste in caddies--When
the caddie is too anxious--Good human kindness--"Big
Crawford"--"Lookin' aifter Maister Balfour"--An ingenious claim--A
salute for the Chief Secretary--A story of a distressed
clergyman--Sandy Smith--The clothes he wore--An excess of zeal--The
caddies' common-sense--When his lot is not a happy one.
The caddie is an indispensable adjunct to the game of golf, and for the
most part he fulfils his functions very capably; but there are caddies
of every imaginable variety, and their vagaries are such as to cause
wonderment on the part of their employers sometimes, amusement at
others, and not infrequently exasperation. Some of them know too much
about the game, and others far too little, and I hardly know which of
these classes is in the long run the worse for the golfers who engage
them to carry their clubs.
An incident of which I heard that happened to a well-known player on the
North Berwick links, must have been very trying to him. On a busy day
all the regular caddies had been engaged, and the fishermen were drafted
into the club-carrying service. The player, having asked one of these
fishermen if he knew anything about the game, and having been informed
that he had only a little knowledge of it, resigned himself calmly to
the inevitable, and told the man complacently that he would do. This
player happened to be left-handed, and took up his stance on the first
tee accordingly, whereupon the son of the sea at once adopted the part
of tutor, and with some warmth and show of contempt exclaimed loudly, "I
dinna ken much aboot the game, but ye dinna ken a wee bit. Mon, ye're
standing on the wrong side of the baw! Awa' to the other side!" Golfers
at the beginning of a round are proverbially susceptible to small
influences, and when a player is accustomed to lean somewhat upon his
caddie, as even some of the best occasionally do, I can well imagine
that such a trivial matter as this is enough to mar a tee shot.
There were some strange specimens of the caddie species at Ganton when I
was there. "Make a tee, boy," said a golfer to one of them, evidently a
novice, one day. The player had been waiting about for something under a
minute, while his servant showed no sign of making the usual
preparations for the tee shot. The boy did not seem to understand. "Make
a tee, boy," exclaimed the player a second time sharply, but still there
was no response, and then the man called for some sand, bent down and
made the tee himself. At this the boy attributed the failure of his
understanding to the player's limited powers of expression, and somewhat
scornfully exclaimed, "Why, if you had told me it was a cock-shot that
was wanted, I should have known what you meant!" On competition days at
Ganton we had often to secure a number of lads who had never seen the
game played before, and very interesting specimens of the youth of
Yorkshire they often were. One day, I remember, a competitor pulled his
ball very badly, and his caddie, who had gone on a little way in front,
received it hard on a very tender part of his head. He was not seriously
hurt, but much pained, and forthwith, excusably perhaps, he gave way to
tears. To soothe him his employer presented him with half a sovereign.
The tears suddenly ceased, the boy's face broke into a happy smile, and
a moment later, when the two were trudging away towards the hole, the
youngster ingenuously inquired, "Will you be coming out again this week,
sir?"
There is a kinship between this story and that of the caddie at North
Berwick, son of the greenkeeper there, some years ago, when first he
began to carry clubs. He was a very precocious little fellow, and the
player for whom he had been engaged to carry for the day was a
well-known golfer from the south. When the day's play was far advanced,
and the time of reckoning was drawing nigh, the boy seized an
opportunity of sidling close up to his patron and asking him, "D'ye ken
Bob S----?" the said Bob being one of the notabilities of the links. The
player answered that he had not the pleasure of Mr. Robert's
acquaintance so far, and inquired of the boy why he asked such a
question. "Weel," was the answer, "it's a peety ye dinna ken Bob S----.
He's a rale fine gentleman, for he aye gies twa shillin' a roond for
carryin' till'm; no like some that ca' themsels gentlemen, an' only gie
a shillin'."
But lest it should be imagined from the recital of these incidents that
the caddie is invariably over-greedy, and that he has no soul for
anything but the pecuniary reward of his service, let there by way of
contrast be told the story of the boy who was willing to carry clubs for
nothing--the one solitary instance of such a disposition to
self-sacrifice that there is on record. This time the golfer was not a
great one. He had his faults, and they were numerous, and for their
conquest and suppression he came to the conclusion that it would be
better if he went out alone over the links and wrestled with them
determinedly. A caddie watched him going out thus solitary, and felt
sorry, so he said to him, "I will carry your clubs for a shilling, sir."
But the golfer replied, "No, my boy, not to-day, thanks; I will carry
them myself." The golfer missed his drive, foozled his second, put his
third into a bunker, and endured other agonies. The caddie had been
following at a respectful distance, and when the ball had been duly
picked up out of the bunker, he made a further appeal. "I will carry
for ninepence, sir." "No, I do not want a caddie," was the answer again.
"I will carry for sixpence, then." "No, go away." On the next tee the
player, overcome by conflicting emotions, missed the ball altogether two
or three times, and then was the caddie's opportunity, which he seized
without hesitation. "I will carry for the fun of the thing, sir!"
This is a digression, but I fear that digressions are inevitable when
one enters upon the subject of caddies, and is persuaded to dip into
one's recollection of caddie stories. The ignorant caddie is trying, but
not less is the one who knows too much about the game, or thinks he
does, and insists upon inflicting his superior knowledge upon you during
the whole course of the round. Once when I was playing for the
Championship, my clubs were carried by a caddie who swore horribly at me
all the time, notwithstanding that from the beginning I was going
strongly for the first place. That boy got on my nerves. I was
approaching well, but my putting was certainly not so sure and confident
as it might have been. "What the ---- is the good of shooting at the flag
if you can't putt worth a d----!" he exclaimed in great disgust on one
occasion when I had the misfortune to miss holing out a somewhat short
putt. He has begged to be allowed to carry for me many times since then,
but I have steadfastly refused his offer, for I would not be handicapped
with him upon any consideration. The caddie I like best of all, and he
who I am convinced is the best servant for the average golfer, is he who
thoroughly understands the game, has a deep knowledge of the course that
is being played over, knows exactly what club to give you upon any and
every occasion, and limits his functions to giving you that club without
being asked for it. This caddie is a silent caddie, who knows that words
of his are out of place, and that they would only tend to upset his
master's game. It will generally be found that he, above all others, is
the one who takes a deep and sympathetic interest in that game. He
never upon any consideration gives advice without being asked for it. On
the other hand, he takes care that no act or omission of his shall ever
cause his man the most momentary irritation, for he has sufficient
knowledge of the golfer's temperament to know that these trifles are a
constant source of bad holes. When the player is preparing for his shot,
and his eye is wandering anxiously between the ball and the hole, he
puts out his hand whilst still continuing his survey of the ground, and
as he puts it out he feels it grasp the handle of the exact club that is
wanted. There is little need to look at it. The caddie knew and acted.
The stance is taken while the player is still in his thoughtful mood,
the shot is made while his mind is still concentrated to the utmost
extent on the difficult task in hand, and then, after a happy result,
the player and this faithful, truly sympathetic caddie go quietly on
their way. When you are on the green he never needs to be told to go to
the pin. He is always there, standing at the hole as soon as the time
has come to putt; and while, if the putt is a poor thing, he has nothing
to say (for silence is more than ever welcome at such a time of sorrow
and disappointment), he permits himself a few courteous words of
congratulation if a great success has been achieved at the last stroke
at the hole, and the crown been placed upon an effort that has been
truly praiseworthy throughout. This is my ideal caddie, and I am
prepared to make some concessions to have him always at my side during
the most trying rounds that I have to play. If he always performs the
duties I have named, promptly and quietly, I do not care whether he
really knows much about the game or not. If a caddie does the round of a
course often enough in the company of good golfers, he knows the club to
use for every particular stroke, even though he may have no practical
knowledge of the game, and I ask nothing more of him than that he should
always hand that club to me without keeping me waiting for a single
moment. These caddies are a rarer species than the others.
I am no advocate of female labour, but I have often, after an
experience of the girl caddie, been tempted to wish that there were more
of them in the land, for they are uncommonly good. The little girl of
humble lot seems, nine times out of ten, to possess all those qualities
which go to the making of a good caddie--according to my standard of a
good caddie--in a remarkable degree. Unlike some of her elder sisters,
she never talks; but she always watches the game very closely and takes
a deep interest in it. She is most anxious--if anything too anxious--to
do her service properly and well, and to the most complete satisfaction
of the gentleman who will reward her for it at the finish. She never
keeps you waiting for your bag. The clubs are always there at your hand.
If it is obvious to this little girl's simple intelligence that you want
your brassy, she has it ready for you. If there is a doubt about the
club, she does not make the mistake of offering you one on chance, as it
were. She is too timid for that. She holds the bag before you and lets
you choose yourself and carry all the responsibility on your own
shoulders. The good boy caddie, whom I have referred to as my ideal,
does that also. I said he was always waiting with the club ready, but if
it is evident to him, as to the player, that it is a difficult question
of judgment as to which particular club should be taken in somewhat
puzzling circumstances, he allows the golfer to make his choice from the
whole collection in the bag, making no suggestion of his own either by
word or movement, unless invited to do so. Cannot every golfer recall
numberless instances of bad shots and holes lost because in one of these
moments of doubt, when his own inclination was leaning to the employment
of one particular club, his caddie thrust another before him? Feeling
that there must be something good in the caddie's recommendation, he has
been tempted in spite of himself to use it. How frequently are the
consequences disastrous in such circumstances as these, and how
unenviable are the golfer's after reflections upon his own weakness!
Yes, decidedly the girl caddie excels. I have seen her on many links up
and down the country, and she is always good. In one of my last matches
last season--at Luton--I had one to carry for me, and she was as good as
any. Perhaps it may be urged by some players that it is not a good thing
for girls to do this work. About that I have nothing to say. I only know
that they do their duty well.
A peculiarly caustic but half-unconscious humour is the characteristic
of caddies everywhere, but particularly in the north, and while golfers
continue to lack absolute perfection, and their ministering attendants
to expect it from them every time, it will probably remain a
characteristic. A fair specimen was the remark of his caddie to a player
whose handicap was several strokes removed from scratch, and who, having
become badly bunkered on one occasion, tried nearly every iron club in
his bag in a vain endeavour to get out. The case was heartbreaking, and
he turned despairingly to his caddie with the question, "What on earth
shall I take now?" There was little encouragement in the answer, "Take
the 4.5 train." There is a good story also of a certain Welshman of
title who became enthusiastic over the game, though he did not excel at
it. He conceived that it would be a good thing to make a tour of the
famous Scottish courses with the object of improving his play, and in
due season he arrived at a certain famous green, where he employed as
his caddie an individual who had a considerable reputation for blunt
candour. The turf suffered severely every time this player made use of
his irons, and the caddie shook his head gloomily and sadly as he
witnessed the destructive work that went on daily. At last there came a
day when he could stand it no longer, and when the Welshman had taken a
mighty swipe at the ball with a heavy iron and made a deep excavation
for several inches behind it, the club carrier moaned painfully, "O
lord, man, hae mercy on puir auld Scotland!" It is said that the golfer
played no more on those links. It was on this same course that two
players went out one morning to play, and found a friend waiting alone
on the first tee, who said that he had fixed up a match with a certain
Captain Blank, who would be coming along presently. The possibility of a
foursome was considered, and a question was asked as to what kind of a
player the Captain was, his partner replying, "Oh, he is excellent. He
drives a good ball, plays his irons well, and is exceedingly useful at
the short game; in fact, he is a first-rate all-round man." Expecting
confirmation of this eulogium, he turned to his caddie and said, "You
know the Captain's play well enough. Now, what sort of a player would
you say he is?" The caddie replied scornfully, "Captain Blank! He canna
play a shot worth a d----. He's nae better than yoursel'!"
The fact is that no player is great in the eyes of his caddie, for on
one occasion when two gentlemen who were very fair hands at the game
were doing a round and being closely pressed by a couple behind, who
seemed to be driving inordinately long balls, one of them observed that
perhaps they had better let them go through as they seemed to be playing
both well and quickly. "Na, na, naething o' the kind," interposed one of
the caddies. "They're just twa duffers like yersels!" And great eminence
in other fields counts for nothing with the caddie if his man cannot
golf in good style. There is the story told by Mr. Balfour of the
distinguished general, hero of many battles, who, having duly found his
way into his twentieth bunker, was startled by a cry of irritation from
his caddie, "Come, come, old gentleman, this will never do!" This great
statesman-golfer relates another anecdote showing that caddies are much
the same the whole world over. An English golfer was playing at Pau and
had a French caddie attending upon him. He made one particularly fine
approach shot, and, as golfers will at such times, he turned round to
the boy with excusable vanity for applause. But the boy's English
vocabulary so far comprised only two words which he had heard uttered
on several occasions, but the sense of which he did not understand.
Feeling sure, however, that they must be appropriate to this occasion,
and desiring to be appreciative, he smiled pleasantly into the golfer's
face and murmured, "Beastly fluke!" Mr. Balfour, by the way, has a
particular and decided taste in caddies, for he has written that he can
gladly endure severe or even contemptuous criticism from them; can bear
to have it pointed out to him that all his misfortunes are the direct
and inevitable result of his own folly; can listen with equanimity when
failure is prophesied of some stroke he is attempting, and can note
unmoved the self-satisfied smile with which the fulfilment of the
prophecy is accentuated; but ignorant and stupid indifference is
intolerable to him. The caddie, in the statesman's opinion, is not, and
ought not, to be regarded as a machine for carrying clubs at a shilling
a round, but rather occupies, or ought to occupy, the position of
competent adviser or interested spectator. The caddie ought to be as
anxious for the success of his side as if he were one of the players,
and should watch each move in the game with benevolent if critical
interest, being always ready with the appropriate club, and, if need be,
with the appropriate comment.
But I don't like to see this anxiety for the success of one's fortunes
upon the links carried to excess. It is then a disturbing factor, and
its humorous aspect does not always appeal to one as it should. Some
golfers might be flattered when they come to know that their caddies
have backed them to the extent of half the remuneration they will
receive for carrying the clubs for the round. It is a touching
expression of the caddie's belief in them. But after all this kind of
thing does not help to make a good caddie. Apart from other
considerations, it does not make the boy carry any the better because he
is over-anxious about the result of the match, and, though some golfers
might be inclined to ridicule the suggestion, it nevertheless is a
disturbing element in one's game if one knows that even the caddie will
be very deeply concerned if every stroke does not come off just as well
as it ought to do. The caddie is not above letting you know of his
wager; sometimes he will even tell you of it. Two golfers of some
Highland celebrity were playing a match one day at Luffness, and after a
hard round they came to the eighteenth tee all square and but this one
hole to play. At this critical stage of the game the caddie of one of
them approached his master and nervously whispered to him, "Please, sir,
wad ye do your very best here, for there's money on this match." And the
golfer did try to do his very best indeed, but he pressed and he
foozled, and he lost the hole and the match. Sympathetically he turned
to his caddie to ask him what was the amount of the lost wager that he
might pay it for him and soften his disappointment. "It was a penny,
sir," said the boy.
But despite his constant sarcasm and his utter inability to tolerate
anything except the very best in golf, there is after all much good
human kindness in your caddie if he is worthy of the name. "Big
Crawford" will always be remembered as a fine specimen. On the day when
Mr. A.J. Balfour played himself into the captaincy of the Royal and
Ancient club, a gentleman who was looking on, and who was well
acquainted with the fact that when Mr. Balfour was in Ireland as Chief
Secretary he never played a round of any of the Irish links without
having plain-clothes detectives walking fore and aft, inquired very
audibly, "Is there no one looking after Mr. Balfour now?" "Big Crawford"
was carrying for him that day, and he heard the question. He turned with
a look of severe pride towards the quarter whence it came, and answered
it as loudly, "Aw'm lookin' aifter Maister Balfour." There was nothing
more to be said. The chief of the Conservatives has certainly an
enormous popularity with the caddies. He so evidently loves his golf so
much, and he has great sympathy with them. He bears amiably with their
weaknesses. He was one day playing a match with Tom Dunn, who was his
tutor, at North Berwick, and by a mixture of skill and luck was enabled
to hole out at "Pointgarry out" in two. It happened that he received a
stroke from Dunn at this hole, and the caddie ingeniously pointed out to
him that he was thus entitled to consider that he had done the hole in
one. "How excellent!" he said. But in the same breath the caddie begged
leave to remind him that it was customary for all good golfers to
celebrate the performance of this particular feat by the bestowal of
some special token upon their caddies. Mr. Balfour was amused. He
tantalised the boy by observing that rather than that he should have to
pay anyone for watching him do these great things, he surely ought to
receive remuneration from all spectators for doing them. The boy felt
that there was truth in this new view of things, and a sad look was
stealing over his face, when the right honourable gentleman handed over
to him the customary fee. Another time on the links, two officers, a
Colonel and a Major, were playing in front of Mr. Balfour and his
partner, when the latter were courteously invited to go through so that
their enjoyment of the round would not be interfered with by any
waiting. At the moment when Mr. Balfour was passing the others, he was
surprised to hear a word of command called out by the Colonel's caddie,
who happened to be a Lucknow veteran. "Attention! Eyes front! Shoulder
arms! Present arms!" And thereupon each of the caddies took from his bag
a driver and with it presented arms in proper soldierly style, Mr.
Balfour, who was Chief Secretary at the time, smiling with pleasure at
the interesting compliment and acknowledging the salute. He has a
remarkable memory for the caddies who have served him, and once, when on
the tee, just about to engage in a foursome, he recognised one of his
opponents' caddies as a boy who on a former occasion had carried his own
clubs, and he nodded to him kindly. Naturally the caddie was immensely
pleased, and turning to one of his colleagues he remarked, "Ye see hoo
we Conservatives ken ane anither!"
Another instance of the deep humanity of "Big Crawford," whom I have
just mentioned, occurred on one occasion when he was carrying for an
Edinburgh clergyman, who, in going for the Redan, had the misfortune to
be badly bunkered, his ball, in addition to the other difficulties of
the situation, lying in a deep heel mark. He was palpably in great agony
of mind, all the greater in that he never uttered a word. Crawford crept
quietly to his side and whispered gently, "What a peety! What a peety!
But gin an aith wad relieve ye, sir, dinna mind me, dinna mind me!" and
thereupon he discreetly retired for some little distance. Sandy Smith,
another famous caddie, was one day carrying for a player who had the
good fortune to be no fewer than six holes up on his opponent by the
time the eighth hole was reached. At this green, something having gone
wrong with the reckoning of the strokes, there was a mild dispute as to
whether the hole had been won by Sandy's man or whether it had been
halved. Eventually it was agreed that it was halved, but as the players
moved away to the next tee, he who was six down being out of earshot in
front, his opponent remarked to Sandy, "You know, Sandy, I still think I
won that hole after all." Sandy seemed shocked at such a cold-blooded
greed for holes, and reprovingly, very seriously, and sharply said to
his employer, "Haud yer tongue, sir; haud yer tongue. Wad ye break the
man's heart?" Sandy used to remark that "the finest gowffer on the green
was Maister Edward Blyth," and it was not until he had expressed this
opinion with an almost wearying frequency that his hearers suspected
that there was some connection between his choice and the fact, which he
admitted one day, that "his auld claes fits me best." Apparently he had
the measure of every player on the course. "I'm wantin' a word wi' ye,
Mr. Blyth," he said to his favourite one day. "What is it, Sandy?" "It's
no' muckle, sir; it's jist this, ye ken. I'm wantin' an auld suit o'
claes frae ye; ye're the only man hereaboot that'll fit me." But
apparently there were others, for one day when a player for whom he was
carrying asked him if he knew the Lord Justice-Clerk, who happened just
then to be passing in a foursome, Sandy replied, "That's Lord Kingsbury,
ye mean. O ay, he's a great freen' o' mine. Naebody kens his lordship
better nor me. Thae's his breeks I've on."
Golfers should, I think, sometimes be on their guard lest a too
kind-hearted caddie, in an excess of zeal for his employer, should be
tempted to transgress the laws of the game, or depart from strict
truthfulness in his behalf. Sometimes it is done with a wonderful air of
innocence and simplicity. Caddies have been known, when their employers
have been in doubt as to exactly how many strokes they have played at
certain holes, to give an emphatic, but none the less untruthful
declaration, on the side of fewness. They mean well, but mistakenly, and
it is better for everybody concerned, but particularly for the caddies,
that they should be severely reprimanded when there is reason to doubt
their good faith.
And who shall say that another, and for our purposes the final
characteristic of the average caddie of experience, is not a wonderful
amount of solid worldly common-sense of a variety specially adapted to
golf? And what golfer is there who has not at one time or another had
the advantage of it? But he may at the time have been unconscious of the
assistance. There is the historic case of the caddie on the Scottish
links who warned a beginner, dallying too much on the tee, that he
"maunna address the ba' sae muckle." Forthwith the southern tyro,
greatly exasperated at his own failures, burst out, "So far as I know I
haven't said a word to the infernal thing, but the irritation of this
beastly game is enough, and if I have any more of your confounded tongue
you may repent it!" Then the caddie murmured to himself, "I dinna like
'is look. I'll better get 'm roond as pleesant as possible." Could any
advice have been more delicately worded than that of the caddie to the
stout clergyman who with all his strength made a most mighty swing at
his ball on the tee with the usual result--a foozle? "It'll nae do, sir;
ye ken ye canna drive as far as that." "Wha--wha--what do you mean by
such a remark? As far as what?" gasped the reverend but irate gentleman.
"I jist mean, sir, that ye canna drive as far as ye wad like."
Perhaps we shall never hear the best caddie stories, for is it not
likely that a great abundance of them are made and told in the sheds
after the day's play is over, and when the golfer's tools are being
wiped and cleaned, and his irons burnished to a beautiful brightness? It
is then that the caddie is in his happiest vein, his tongue and
disposition untrammelled by the presence of the club members. "What're
ye doin' cleanin' them clubs so grand?" asked one caddie of another, who
was evidently bestowing unusual pains on the polishing of the set that
were in his keeping. The caddie was in a thoughtful mood. He was the
regular attendant of an old golfer who had had a most disastrous day.
"I'm to clean 'em better than ever," he answered. "And when I've cleaned
'em I've got to break 'em across my knee. And then I've got to chuck 'em
in the bloomin' river." Sometimes, we see, if he is a simple-hearted,
faithful caddie, his lot is not a happy one.