Snead was also game for money matches, provided the stakes were right. He always made sure that he had more to gain than to lose and was willing to let others back him so long as he was promised a healthy share of the winnings.
About the only thing Snead didn’t win in his long and illustrious career was the U.S. Open. If anything, it would be more accurate to say that, on more than one occasion, Snead lost the U.S. Open, and none more so than the 1939 Open at Spring Mill outside Philadelphia.
Snead was just entering his prime at the time. Because of his powerful and straight driving, it was always assumed that he would win several Opens before he was done. It was not so much a question of whether Snead would win the Open, but rather how many times he would do it.
According to the records, Snead started the Open in 1939 with a 68. After he followed that with a 71, he was at the top of the leaderboard. In those days, the final two rounds were played on Saturday, and Snead maintained his lead by shooting 73 in the morning round. He continued playing well in the final round, and, with two holes left, he held a commanding three-stroke lead.
At that time, the leaders weren’t paired in the final rounds, and there were no leaderboards at every hole as there are now. Later, Snead would say that he believed that he only had a one- or two-shot lead at the time. For whatever reason, he attempted to play the 17th hole aggressively and found the rough, which resulted in a bogey. Believing he was now tied and needed a birdie to avoid an 18-hole playoff with Byron Nelson, Snead pressed and fell out of his wonderfully natural tempo, taking a disastrous triple bogey eight on the final hole when a bogey would have won the Open. He ended up fourth.
In all, Snead had four bridesmaid performances in the Open, finishing second in 1937, 1947, 1949, and 1953. But he always described his collapse at the 1939 Open as the greatest disappointment of his entire career.
Jones had apparently written Tutwiler with a view toward arranging a match between Stedman and Snead. Of course, he did not use Stedman’s real name, referring to him as Rudy Sawyer.
Tutwiler’s reply was interesting.
August 24, 1947
Dear Bob:
I am sorry it has taken me so long to respond to your letter. As you know, Sam is out on tour at this time of year. We don’t see much of him until the middle of October.
I was able to catch up with him last week, however, by telephone. Perhaps he had had a bad day or wasn’t playing well. At any rate, I was disappointed by his reaction to the proposed match.
He had a lot of questions about Mr. Sawyer. I have never known Sam to be reluctant to accept a challenge, but he offered all manner of excuses this time. He also wanted to know what you were up to in sending this fellow to play him.
What it came down to was that he begged off, claiming he was much too busy at the moment to do it. I will approach him again, as several of us here think it would make a great wager. Anyone you recommend is good enough for us. If I can get Sam to change his mind, I’ll let you know.
I look forward to seeing you at the club soon.
Fondly,
Robert
If everything I had heard and read about Snead was true, he was not afraid of a challenge. Neither was he likely, however, to dive into a pool without checking its depth. Snead obviously felt he didn’t know enough about Rudy Sawyer and wasn’t going to agree to play him until he knew what he was getting into.
I wondered if there were other times when Jones was unable to pull off a match. Snead would have been quite a trophy for Stedman. American golf in the forties had any number of great players. In addition to Snead, Hogan, and Nelson, there was Ralph Guldahl, Horton Smith, Jimmy Demaret, Craig Wood, Lawson Little, Lew Worsham, and Lloyd Mangrum. Had any of the others said no, too? Or was Sam Snead the only one immune to Bobby Jones’s powers of persuasion?
20
AS I RUSHED TO complete my summer’s work, I discovered that Stedman had in fact finally summoned the nerve to return to Texas, where he had had his close call with the authorities so many years earlier. It was a huge prize that lured him back, and the remarkable reach of Jones’s influence was once again apparent.
In the early 1950s developers recognized the enormous potential of an area 50 miles north of Houston dominated by two large lakes, Lake Conroe and Lake Walden. They eventually created several resort properties combining golf, boating, water skiing, and tennis for weekend escapes from the sprawling city to the south.
In the beginning, there was only one decent road out of Houston to the north, and that was U.S. Highway 59. Recognizing the need for better access, the developers persuaded federal highway authorities that additional infrastructure was needed to stimulate economic development between Houston and Dallas. That led to the construction of Interstate 45. Other highways known as “beltways” and toll roads circling Houston soon followed. In the 1970s and beyond, the area north of Houston was the fastest growing in the entire United States.
The first golf course to be constructed was the Walden Golf Club. Its developer, John Lundsberg, wisely understood that his new course had to be bigger and better than the excellent golf courses in Houston if he expected to attract large numbers of the city’s inhabitants. Thus, he commissioned Texas golf architect Ralph Plummer to find the best section of his 700-acre tract on the South Shore of Lake Walden for his new golf course.
The result was spectacular. Parts of seven holes bordered the shoreline, and Plummer utilized the most attractive section of the property, with changes in elevation that were uncommon to southeast Texas, to construct a course that was both scenic and challenging. When he was done, Lundsberg definitely had a course that was worth the drive out of the city.
Walden Golf Club was set to open on September 15, 1952. Lundsberg wanted the grand opening to be something all of Texas would talk about. He came up with a remarkably grandiose plan. The opening round at Walden would be played by a foursome of Texas’s greatest golf champions: Ben Hogan, Byron Nelson, Jimmy Demaret, and Jackie Burke, Jr.
Among other things, Lundsberg was a member of Augusta National. Thus, it came as no surprise to find that he had detailed all of his plans to Jones in several letters. He had also sent Jones the promotional literature he had produced for his property, which included a history of the area and the developer’s growth projections. Some of it was obviously intended for investors. While I found it to be interesting reading, I still didn’t connect it to Stedman at first.
Apparently, Lundsberg had originally planned to have his friend Jones participate in the development of the resort. Obviously, having Jones associated with the project in some capacity would have great public relations value.
I imagined that Jones received overtures of this kind all the time. However, he was apparently reluctant to become involved with other clubs or ventures because doing so might in some way diminish his relationships with Augusta National and Peachtree.
One of Lundsberg’s last letters to Jones indicated that there had been a last-minute hitch in the grand opening. Ben Hogan wasn’t going to play. It had been only three years since the automobile accident that nearly killed him, and Hogan was exhausted from his long summer playing schedule. He had advised Lundsberg that, although he would have particularly enjoyed playing with his Texas friends, he felt it best to curtail his activities in favor of rest. Thus, Lundsberg was calling on Jones for assistance in securing a replacement. He was offering an appearance fee of $2,500, which was a sizeable sum at the time.
Lundsberg no doubt expected Jones to produce someone on the order of Snead. He had to have been surprised at Jones’s reply.
September 4, 1952
Dear John,
Thank you for your kind letter. I am sorry that Ben is unable to play, but I certainly understand his need to pace himself these days.
Given the short notice, I am unable to help with the players in whom you expressed interest. However, I do know of a marvelously talented player who would give the rest of your group a fair game. His name is
Dylan Heyd. He is an amateur, so you can save your appearance fee. I am sure he would come in return for his travel expenses.
I do not recommend Dylan lightly. He is an outstanding player, and it might make your opening match even more appealing to have an unknown “underdog” match these great professionals shot for shot. I promise you he will hold his own.
I have taken the liberty of speaking with Dylan, and he is available. Just let me know, and I will make the arrangements.
As ever,
Bob
Lundsberg’s reply came quickly.
September 7, 1952
Dear Bob,
Received your reply. I love it! It will make great “theater,” as they say. Please make the arrangements.
Thanks for all your help.
Sincerely,
John
Lundsberg clearly had an instinct for promotion. The newspaper clippings that he later sent Jones confirmed that the media liked the angle of the unknown amateur taking on the famous touring pros.
WALDEN GOLF CLUB OPENS WITH EXHIBITION
Special to the Chronicle—The newest, and some say best, of the state’s golf courses opened with a bang yesterday on the south shore of Lake Walden. The celebrated Texas trio of Byron Nelson, Jimmy Demaret, and Jackie Burke played the inaugural first round before an appreciative gallery of over 1,000 spectators, but it was a career amateur named Dylan Heyd who stole the show.
Walden is a lengthy course, stretching 6,850 yards. It plays even longer because of changes in elevation, and club selection can be difficult. That was evident throughout the round, as all four golfers misplayed shots because they had misjudged the distance to the flag.
In the end, however, it was Heyd, reportedly recommended by none other than Bob Jones for this exhibition, who made the fewest mistakes. His score of 68 was two better than Nelson and Demaret at 70 and three ahead of Burke at 71. Heyd finished in grand style, making a birdie three at the monstrous 450-yard 18th hole.
According to the resort’s public relations director, Camille Harrison, construction on the 135-room hotel adjacent to the course will be complete in six weeks. Plans for a marina are nearly finished, as well as a subdivision featuring lots with frontage on the golf course and on Lake Walden. The golf course will formally open for play to the public on September 23.
There was a picture with the article showing the four players posing with a man identified as Lundsberg. I recognized Dylan Heyd to be Beau Stedman.
Whatever his name, Stedman had claimed three more victims. The magnitude of this achievement was staggering to me; the three players he had beaten were as good as anyone he had faced before.
To begin with, Byron Nelson was one of golf’s greatest champions. Even I was familiar with his record. His major championships included the 1939 U.S. Open, the 1940 and 1945 PGA Championships, and the 1937 and 1942 Masters titles. He had amassed a total of 52 career victories on the PGA Tour to rank fifth on the all-time list behind Sam Snead, Jack Nicklaus, Ben Hogan, and Arnold Palmer. That victory total is especially remarkable in view of the fact that Nelson all but retired to his ranch after the 1945 season, when he was barely in his mid-30s.
Of course, Nelson’s most spectacular achievement consisted of winning 18 tournaments in 1945, including an unheard-of 11 wins in a row. His scoring average of 68.3 for the year remains the lowest in the history of professional golf. Neither mark, it seems safe to say, will ever be matched.
Jimmy Demaret, the second of Stedman’s Texas conquests, wasn’t exactly an easy pocket to pick either. For one thing, he won The Masters no less than three times himself. He claimed a number of other tour victories to his credit as well, including the Western Open, the Los Angeles Open, and the Bing Crosby “Clambake.”
The third member of the group was Demaret’s close friend, Jackie Burke, Jr. Like the others, Burke also had major championships on his résumé, winning both the Masters and the PGA in 1956, and achieved similar success on the pro tour.
Lundsberg wasn’t the only one to recognize the potential for golf in the area. Burke and Demaret must have been impressed by what they saw at Walden. Soon after Lundsberg opened his course, they developed and built the Champions Golf Club in northwest Houston, featuring two 18-hole courses they called Jackrabbit and Cypress Creek. As an indication of its enormous respect for the two great players, the USGA awarded Champions the 1969 U.S. Open. Staging the national championship on such a young course (in the Texas heat, no less) was a marked departure from the USGA’s historical practice of limiting Open venues to older, historic sites such as Winged Foot, Baltusrol, and Oakmont.
I could only imagine how curious Lundsberg must have been to know about Dylan Heyd. In fact, anyone who witnessed Stedman’s exhibitions over the years would naturally have become quite interested in learning more about the remarkably talented player they had seen.
At the same time, I doubted that anyone could have protected Stedman’s identity as well as Jones. Just as he deflected inquiries into the machinations of Augusta National by a combination of personal charm and the strength of his reputation, so he also shielded Stedman. It was almost as if Jones could dismiss anyone who was overly curious as prying into things that were none of his business. It was a remarkable power, and he used it well.
At the same time, Jones continued to maintain a fairly meticulous account of Stedman’s playing record. I took it to mean he wanted Stedman’s achievements preserved for posterity in some way.
It had apparently fallen to me to finish what Jones had started.
21
I COULDN’T TELL at first how either Stedman or Jones came to know about Deacon Palmer’s boy. Somehow, however, Stedman found his way to Latrobe, Pennsylvania, in the summer of 1954 to take him on. At least that’s what the file notes I was looking at revealed.
Deke’s boy was named Arnold. He had grown up at the Latrobe Country Club, where his father was the pro, superintendent, and general manager. The boy was something of a prodigy. As a ten-year-old, he would park himself on Tuesday mornings at the par-three 7th hole, which required a shot over water, and offer to hit the ladies’ tee shots over the water for a nickel.
Of course, Arnold went on to play college golf at Wake Forest and was still an amateur at the age of 24 in 1954. That was the year he won the U.S. Amateur at the Country Club of Detroit.
The Amateur was the first of eight major championships for Arnold Palmer. As most golf fans know, Palmer won The Masters four times, in the alternating years of 1958, 1960, 1962, and 1964, as well as the 1960 U.S. Open, and the 1961 and 1962 British Opens. In all, he claimed 61 professional tournament titles on the PGA Tour alone.
In the process, he became the best-loved golfer of all time. Blessed with enormous charisma, Palmer was perfect for the emerging electronic miracle known as television. Whereas Ben Hogan dissected courses with a surgeon’s scalpel, Palmer hacked at them with a machete. It was messy, but effective, mainly because he had a knack for escaping whatever trouble he got himself into. His fearless style of play rendered sportswriters’ use of the word “daredevil” a cliché and converted millions of television viewers who had never played the game into golf fans. More than any single player, Palmer is rightly credited with the growth of golf that began in the 1960s. To the media and his fans all over the world, he will always be “the King.”
It never occurred to me that Palmer’s path might ever cross Stedman’s. Then I found a letter from Deacon Palmer to Jones that helped me make sense out of the notes.
July 27, 1954
Dear Mr. Jones,
Thank you so much for your letter of congratulations to my son for winning the Amateur. Needless to say, he was thrilled to receive it and I’m sure will acknowledge your thoughtfulness with his own note.
I am writing for another reason. Arnold was the first member of our family to attend college. He received a fine education at Wake Forest, but he left early and entered the Coast Guard. He has options that I didn’t have, including fi
nishing school on his veteran’s benefits and going into business. He seems set, however, on playing professional golf.
Life on tour is difficult. I do not know if Arnold realizes the sacrifices he would have to make, including the loss of a normal family life. He is so confident of his success, however, that he doesn’t seem to appreciate the challenge he faces.
You never turned professional, yet you accomplished great things in golf. I think Arnold could do the same. Perhaps he would listen to you. If you would be so kind to visit with him, I would be happy to send him to you.
Thank you.
Sincerely yours,
Deacon Palmer
It was a touching letter. Here was a father who had labored long and hard as a club professional and knew that there was a less glamorous side to professional golf. He wanted more for his son. I reminded myself that this was a time when few professionals had college educations and that professional purses barely offset travel expenses. Most pros traveled together, sharing car and hotel expenses. For this reason, many talented amateurs of the day, such as E. Harvie Ward and Billy Joe Patton, bypassed the pro circuit in favor of more lucrative callings and remained career amateurs.
Deacon Palmer clearly wanted the same for his son. So he was appealing to the greatest career amateur of all time for help.
Jones’s reply was thoughtful.
August 2, 1954
Dear Mr. Palmer,
I was pleased to receive your letter of July 27, 1954.
I appreciate your concern for your son. He faces a difficult decision.
I do not know if it would serve much purpose for me to try to dissuade Arnold from turning professional. From what I hear, he is not only talented but has great competitive fire. He might not be happy unless he tries his hand at the tour.
The thrill of winning the Amateur can be intoxicating. As good as he is, Arnold may not fully appreciate how talented other players on the pro tour are. The level of competition among the fellows who play golf every week gets better and better all the time.
The Greatest Player Who Never Lived Page 11
