Fifty Questions Asked of a Pebble Beach Caddie. James Hudgeon

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      Fifty Questions

      Asked of a

      Pebble Beach Caddie

      James Hudgeon

      Copyright © 2020 James Hudgeon

      All rights reserved

      First Edition

      Fulton Books, Inc.

      Meadville, PA

      Published by Fulton Books 2020

      ISBN 978-1-64654-342-7 (paperback)

      ISBN 978-1-64654-343-4 (digital)

      Printed in the United States of America

      Chapter 1

      What Was It like Caddying at Pebble Beach?

      Making a living outside doing what I loved was a good hustle. I was told that by a Coca-Cola Company executive well-dressed, well-spoken and like me, he was an African American. It was those one-on-ones with people from all over the world that came to play golf at Pebble Beach that made it a privilege to caddie at Pebble Beach; that is hard to describe mostly because I had a job to do and it was a good hustle.

      I started playing the game of golf in the summer 1974 at the nine-hole Navy golf course in Monterey, California. I was there for the summer working at a McDonald’s restaurant with my brother Robert Jordan—he was a manager there at the seaside McDonald’s; that was my first job in customer service. As a young man growing up, I had other jobs, mostly labor intense—including delivering papers for the Monterey Herald. In seaside I worked down and around the street from my home on the eleven hundred block on Elm street, the Amador and Palm between Fremont and the Noche Buena route. I guess that’s where I learned how to deliver, people wanted their papers on the porch on time and covered when it’s raining.

      I also had a hustle in the food-service industry at the Rogue restaurant on Monterey wharf number two; that job ran its course, and during that time I read up on etiquette and food service, knowing which side to pick up the plate and serve the plate where the silverware went, the little things that people come to expect when dining out.

      I would hustle up caddie loops when the tour came to town, and in 1979 I was at Spyglass Hill in Pebble Beach looking for a loop and was lucky that day I got a loop for the week. The player was an amateur golfer with the biggest bag that the tour players used—it was a Spalding tour bag, and the player was the CEO of Spalding, and his pro golfer for the week was Fuzzy Zoeller, fresh off a win at the Andy Williams San Diego Open.

      I had caddied before, and that helped me to fit into the fuzzy, coming off a victory party, and having victories of my own I know the humble ground of what you do now is even more important than your first win. Fun and humble is the man that won and will win again, which Mr. Zoeller did three months later the first time—he plays at Augusta in the Masters.

      During the practice round on the fourth hole at Spyglass, a short dogleg left that Fuzzy made comments about how to play the hole off the tee: what line to play and the club you should hit for each line in 1979; club and line took the pressure off distance. This club is good for this, and that club is good for that—it worked then and still works today inside the ropes.

      At that moment I was sure that it was going to be very important that I kept my ears open and learn for the rest of the week; Fuzzy knew his way around a golf course.

      In 1980 I found myself living in Bermuda; my mom’s side of the family is from Bermuda, and my sister Barbara Jean and brother-in-law Oliver Simmons were nice enough to let me stay with them in Somerset. At the tip of the island is a dockyard, a very cool spot, and Port Royal golf course is right there up the road. I rented a moped, stripped up my clubs, and played golf in paradise.

      Port Royal did not have a caddie program, but Mid Ocean Club did. Mid Ocean is a semiprivate club, and I was welcomed to caddie there when needed. Either way, work or not, that day I enjoyed the long ride on the moped from Somerset to Tuckers town. After a few trips around the island, I was riding as a local except for the spills and road rash; golf does teach you to pay attention.

      Port Royal hosted the PGA Grand Slam of Golf 2009–2014, and the rest of the world got to see on TV the four best golfers of the year play the two golf courses that I worked and played at. My only caddie job at Port Royal was a tournament—The Bermuda Open. I worked for an amateur, and we did not win. But I did make another hustle.

      Mid Ocean Club also hosted the PGA Grand Slam of Golf 2007–2008. Opened in 1921, just two years after Pebble Beach, they both have some of the same characteristic layouts—short par three hole number seven at Mid Ocean and hole number seven at Pebble Beach both can be played downwind sand wedge to five iron at Mid Ocean. At Pebble Beach you can hit a 3 iron; anything more than that you better go in by the way of the eighth hole to hole number fourteen, the wet player loop, sir, we can have the wind at your back down fourteen and fifteen. Some wind on sixteen; if the greens are still playable hit driver on seventeen and then eighteen downwind. What do you think?

      Mid Ocean Club is also a links-style golf course with a few shortcuts to get back to the clubhouse, like Pebble Beach, number ten tee was out on the course nine holes out, nine holes in. Mid Ocean did not have seven holes on the water; number six at Mid Ocean does have water on the left and trouble on the right, and if your driver goes off line to the right you can drive through the fairway.

      The world-famous number eighteen at Pebble Beach has water along the left, and if your driver goes right, there is a bunker—a cart path and out of bounds. I was ready for Mid Ocean number six; choosing the right line and club was a valuable lesson.

      Back in Monterey for the 1982 US Open, I was hitting some golf balls on the range, just hanging out; not too many players were in town for the tournament. I thought the range would be the place to hustle up a loop for the week.

      I got lucky while I was hitting balls on the range. A player asked me if I was playing in the Open. Keeping a straight face, I replied, “No, just killing time. I’m looking for a bag for the Open.”

      The player’s name was Gary Marlow; he was an amateur all the way from Fort Lauderdale Florida. Gary said, “I’m playing, and I need a caddie.”

      Gary hit a long ball on the eighteenth hole in two, both Thursday and Friday. I remember little about that week; I did not step in the line of the other players or rack a bunker when someone was putting. Gary played a very controlled game, one great shot after another.

      What I do remember about the 1982 Open was on hole number seven. The pin was back right, the tee shot was short right, and the green is kidney shaped and the line was very tight—not much green to the pin. I did not read the greens for Gary and could only watch and learn. The putt caught the rough and went into the bunker; Gary went up and down out of the bunker for a bogey one over par. We played on and go for it in two on the eighteenth. After a bomb of a drive off the tee, we were on in two. Someone said an eagle putt, and Gary said, “I need this to make the cut.” We did not make the putt for eagle and made birdie.

      After signing the scorecard and taking off the bib, we went to the leaderboard too see how we were doing against the rest for the field. The cut was seventy players and all ties; there was a pair of paper scissors on the leaderboard when the score was posted. We were inside the cut line, and there were other players still out on the course. We were standing at sixty-seventh spot on the leaderboard, and went for a beer. After some time we went back to the leaderboard to see those scissors move, and the scissors stopped on Gary Marlow; we were player seventy-one. Gary was right; we needed that eagle putt to go in—one less player one less stroke; it was a hard loss.

      Was it the putt into the bunker? Not really, that’s golf. I was still at Pebble Beach, and I had a pass for the rest of the week and a friend with a great spot with food on the fourteenth hole at the Arnold Palmer tree, one hundred yards out from the green. A great view looking down the fairway with the players coming around the dogleg after the tee shot. Not sure Arnold Palmer hit this tree one hundred yards out from the green on his second or third shot; that was not part of the story about the tree. What was talked about the tree was that lightning hit the tree that night.