PoGo's Early Years

The first happened when I was 6 years old. At that time my family lived in a small village in Ohio. In the back yard were two very large trees; one Apple and one Pear.

It was my job to clear the fallen fruit from under these trees and dispose of them in the vacant lot next door. Picking up all that fruit by hand was not a task that a 6 year old boy was fond of; not this one at any rate.

In the early spring that year, just as the fruit was forming into small green promises for yet another busy fruit-picking summer, our neighbor, "Dusty" Wiltrout, gave me an old Hickory shafted 5 Iron.

That club was far too long for me, but, as kids will, I figured out a way to swing it as I emulated the moves and motion I had seen Dusty perform in his backyard.

How's this for a 170 yard Par 3?

Water front and left. The green down behind the bunker. Serious rough and woods behind.

Does the word "Intimidate" come to mind?

Three things resulted. (1)- Not much fruit reached maturity, 2)- I became pretty adept at sending a variety of objects flying into the tall weeds of the vacant lot. (I also incurred the wrath of my Father, that first year with my new aquisition, ... wasn't much fruit left for the family) and (3)- I fell in love with the feeling of swinging a Golf club.

The second event happened the summer I turned 9.
I usually spent much of my summer vacations from school with my Grandmother in the much larger (?) town of Ashland where there were two Golf Courses.

I had heard that young men could earn money at the Ashland Country Club course by Caddying (whatever THAT was). With the promise of my own money in my jeans I rode my bike accross town, wandered around asking questions and was finally directed to the Caddy Master.

He thought I was a bit small for the job, but was short handed and hoped that my energy and enthusiasm would compensate for my small size. He started me immediately ... in school!!!

School started with a tour of the course in the Green Keeper's (they weren't called Superintendents back then) old pickup truck during which the Caddy Master described every aspect of what I was seeing and how it all applied to the game of Golf.

After that experience my head was swimming with more data that, somehow, I knew I had to convert to usable information.

I was then given a scorecard and a Rule Book and introduced to my "partner", a senior caddy to whom I would stick like glue and from whom I was supposed to learn what my job was all about.

The love just got deeper.

Back then golf bags were ALL big and ALL heavy. Caddy fees were 25 cents per bag per nine holes so it bacame obvious that the only way to make any money was to carry a "Double Eighteen", two bags for eighteen holes. For someone like me, at that time, 4'6" and weighing about 65 pounds, I often felt more like a mule than a person. I was at the course at sun up and rarely left before dark, but, ... I loved what I was doing.

By the end of that first summer I was being requested by members and getting top tips to augment my fees .. 25 cents!!! (except on Ladies Day where the tips, if any, rarely topped 5 cents).

I had studied hard and knew the rules, the course and was already learning to evaluate golfers (the beginning of swing analysis?).

Being a private course, Caddies weren't allowed to use the practice range or the putting green and were generally relegated to the "Caddy Shack" where they were to remain invisible until needed. .... except on CADDY DAY!!!

On Monday mornings Caddies were allowed to play 9 holes (18 if the weather was bad and business was slow). Dawn at the first tee would generally reveal a large group of boys quietly negotiating pairings, starting times and, of all things, bets.

A more rag-tag group you cannot imagine. Shorts, jeans, black high top tennis shoes and, of course, hats. Combinations of color, style and states of repair that would bring tears to a Mother's eyes. But, on this day, they were Golfers!!

There was no yelling, running or boisterous activity which might surprise parents of today. There was no need for adult supervision; each young man carried a reverence for where he was and what he was engaged in that was too important to take lightly. Attitudes learned at that age last a lifetime.

Very few Caddies owned clubs, certainly not me!!! Most Caddies played with an odd assortment of sticks that they had found and that had gone unclaimed or that they had resurrected from the scrap heap. MacGregor was THE top club line in those days and every Caddy dreamed of, someday, owning a set of copper faced MacGregor Tourneys. Regardless of the equipment, Golf was still THE game.

Sometime during my third year as a Caddy I became the freqent "Shag Boy" for John Edwards, an excellent golfer (always in contention for the Club Championship) who also ran the local lunch counter a convenient three blocks from school.

John and I developed a good relationship around his game and he would often seek my opinion on some small fundamental or other that he ws working on. After one particularly grueling session as both the target and the ball retriever, John asked me to accompany him to the Pro Shop ... definitely off limits for Caddies.

Mr Edwards assured me that I wouldn't get into trouble with the Pro, John Krisko, so I went with him, thinking he wanted to get some change to tip me with.