by Ed Nelson
The winner would get a green jacket and a crystal bowl with the Masters’ logo on it. I didn’t even try. Deane Berman won at five under. He is a nice guy, and his family was thrilled at his win.
Mary took it in stride. I thought she might throw a fit if I didn’t win but she had so much fun and attention I’m not even sure she knew a match was going on. Mum and Dad had been following us around in case things got out of hand.
Only once there was cause for concern. Reporters wanted to interview Mary, and not me. I wasn’t concerned that I wasn’t being interviewed but at what Mary might say.
The reporters were decent in their questions, keeping them about, “Saving Puppies,” “Saving Kittens, and Saving Ponies.” She gave Mary answers to everything.
To the question of, “Why do you want to save puppies,” she replied, “Puppies are better than reporters who ask stupid questions.”
When the laughter died down, she was asked if she was going to have a campaign to, “Save the Whales.”
“Do they need saving?”
“Yes, they do,” replied the reporter, “What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m only seven years old, I can’t save everything, what are you going to do about the poor whales?”
For some reason, the reporters lost interest in further questions.
I was asked, “How do you think you will do in the Masters?”
“I’m playing to win. So are many other fine golfers. Time will tell.”
The house that we had rented was a nice one with a large patio. Mum and Dad had a cocktail party outside. It was catered by a local firm. By invitation only it was a civil event. The kids, Denny, Eddie, and Mary made token appearances and went to the den to watch TV.
I was stuck doing meet and greet with Mum and Dad. By this time all the financial papers and magazines had carried the story about the bank being taken down and that I had made a fortune.
This brought out all the people who had every good reason in the world that I should share, or just outright give them my new wealth.
It didn’t take long, and I asked if I could use the microphone set up. I don’t know why it was there as there wasn’t anything scheduled.
“Ladies and gentlemen. As some of you are aware, I made a large sum of money on the stock market yesterday. I’m proud to announce all those funds have been used to create a new bank in China. The Bank of Guangzhou. We will welcome any investments you may care to make. This is not an official solicitation. It is just a notice that information can be obtained from the Chinese Embassy.
Have the Chinese even opened an Embassy yet? No idea. At least this would get some of them off my back.
The women had also descended. Fortune hunters all. I didn’t think it was possible to get tired of boobs being rubbed on my arm. I was wrong.
I left the party as soon as I could.
The next morning, Thursday, I was up early and got my run in. I was amazed that three die-hard women had just happened to run my route that morning. While two of them could out-sprint me, none had the stamina to do five miles. I did feel sorry for the one large-breasted girl that tried to run without a bra on.
Now those were some puppies that needed saving.
After a medium-sized breakfast, John and I headed for the course. I had drawn a 9:20 tee time. The higher the rank golfer the later their tee time.
All the time I had spent on the driving range and practice green paid off. At the end of day one, I led the field at five under. A prize was given to the low round each day. I now had a crystal vase with the Masters’ logo engraved. It would go well in the trophy case set up in the Jackson House library.
I consent to be interviewed. Etiquette said that I would for the sake of the golf club. The questions were predictable and my answers more so.
Yes, I was happy to be the leader, no I didn’t think this would be an easy win. There were the world’s best golfers here and I would have to fight every inch of the way. And so, it went.
Day two, Friday, things got serious. As the leader, I was in the final threesome. I was with Gary Player and Arnold Palmer, both gentlemen of the first water. Arnold picked up a stroke to be seven-under. Gary caught on fire and ended up tied at seven-under. I still led as I finished at eight-under.
My putting was devastating. I had three Eagles that round so won four crystal goblets. At this rate, we would have to buy a cabinet for all the crystals I had won.
More silly questions, more answers, my answers were never silly, well maybe sarcastic, but not silly.
The one I liked best was would I turn pro on the last day if I won so I could collect the first-place money.
I couldn’t resist it, “They have prize money?”
Saturday the field was narrowed down. The top fifty players including ties and anyone within ten strokes of the leader moved on. I was still playing with the same group. At end of the third round, Arnold lost a stroke and came in at six-under. Gary caught fire and hit a blistering ten-under. It wasn’t good enough to beat my eleven-under. I wondered what we would do with all the crystal vases but decided that was Mum’s problem.
Sunday was a terrible day. The rain started right after we teed off and didn’t let up, when the lightning started, they called the match for the day. We would start over from scratch on Monday.
I felt bad for the ten players who had finished, especially for those who had moved up in the rankings. No one was threatening the leaders, but still, it would have improved their payday.
On Monday we played in twosomes. I was with Gary Player. As the leader’s we teed off last. We both felt the pressure and our games showed it. He lost two of his strokes to end up eight under. I lost two strokes and ended up at nine-under to win the Masters National Golf Tournament. Gary laughed at his loss as he would still get the first-place money of twenty thousand dollars.
They must have a large closet full of green jackets because they had a forty-two long in stock. Even that could have used a little tailoring, but I didn’t mention it. I was sure Harold could take care of it.
Besides the jacket, I received the Silver Cup which was for the low amateur score and my name was engraved on the trophy which would be on display in the clubhouse.
In the post-round interview, a reporter asked why I didn’t turn pro and take the money. I asked him if his newspaper had a financial page. They did. I suggested that he read it.
Chapter 44
There was a round of parties after the tournament ended. I was the guest of honor at each of them. It was funny that before the tournament I was one of the many amateurs that had entered but didn’t have a chance.
Now I had two major wins to my record I was a new force to be reckoned with. I lost track of how many times I was asked if I was turning pro.
People couldn’t get it through their heads that the golf circuit money didn’t mean that much to me. Gary Player’s first-place money was twenty thousand dollars. That was good money, ten thousand a year was considered an above-average living and he had won it in a week. That was two years' wages.
By that standard, I made 50,000 years’ worth last week. I wasn’t so crass as to say that. I kept referring people to Forbes or The Wall Street Journal. If they were too lazy to look it up it wasn’t my problem.
Those that didn’t ask me if I was turning pro wanted to know if I was after Bobby Jones’ record of the only grand slam by an amateur golfer. That one I had to be more careful because yes, I was. However, I didn’t want to sound like a braggart or raise expectations. I would let my clubs speak for themselves.
Another realization that came as I attended these parties that there were two types of people who gathered around me.
Some wanted to know the golfer, the movie actor, the hero, the inventor, the self-made person, or even the boy scout. What they had in common was they all wanted to be able to say they had some connection with me. To bask in my reflected glory if you will.
Then some wanted my money. This could be in the f
orm of a gift, loan, or even theft. They considered what was mine as theirs.
I had been happily dealing with the first type with no problems. A handshake, a photo together, or even a publicity picture would satisfy their needs.
The second group could never be satisfied. They would be after my money all my life.
Would I end up a recluse like it was reported of Howard Hughes? That didn’t sound like living a life.
It did mean that I had to become less accessible to these people and plain hardened to their entreaties. That led to its own set of problems. I didn’t want to become so hard and cynical that I wrote everything off, but at the same time, I had to protect myself.
I had to surround myself with people I trusted like Mum and Dad, Jim Williamson, Todd Pearson, and the rest of the business staff who helped me in the early days. Then there were John Wayne, Clint Easterly, Sam Monroe, Anna Romanov, and Dick Wyman to name a few.
For some reason, Nina came to mind, but I set her aside as one who had betrayed me. It still hurt every time I thought of her. I had been told that time would take care of that, in that I would think of her less often.
It was working. Instead of constant pain, it was now only hourly while I was awake.
She still wrote me letters which I read, but never responded to. Her life was now miserable. From being the queen bee at her school she was now a social pariah. Those that she had dispensed largess to in the form of modeling jobs, or rides in my airplane or even the Ferrari left her as soon as she couldn’t provide them anymore. Also, they derided her for losing her meal ticket.
She kept trying to explain to me that she never considered me a meal ticket. The worthless Prince had wooed her and played to her ego and in a moment of weakness, she fell for his line.
My problem was that it wasn’t only one moment.
As for the Prince himself, I had considered revenge in many a horrid form. In the end, I did nothing because he had done himself in.
Anything to do with me made all the tabloids. He and Nina made several week’s stories. The Prince had flown too high, and now all knew him for what he was. His social circle could forgive anything but making them all look foolish.
His invitations to the social events that counted among his kind went away. The last I had heard he was working as a tour bus guide. If nothing else, he should know all the social dirt about the rich and famous whose houses he was showing to tourists.
After the last party, I took off my green jacket and flew to England. I had a lot of loose ends to tie up on the investment bank debacle.
The largest was to ensure that a holding company for Jackson Enterprises had been properly formed in England. Because of taxes the company now had to be outside of the United States.
It would also help protect it from the ire of the Kennedys. I still hadn’t figured out how to make peace with them. My problems with them started when they came into the White House.
I think they had planned to be the ones who opened China to trade. This would create a strong legacy and destroy Dick Nixon's plan to be the one who opened them up.
What they didn’t appreciate was that China had decided to open themselves up with the English being their main trading partner. I was merely a messenger when this all started. The die had been cast before JFK was elected.
Then there was the attempt to take over my company. All I can say is they started it. If anything, I should be plotting how to take them, and the others involved down.
I saw no profit in that, it would lead to a series of feuds for the rest of my life. Even if I won the battles the money wouldn’t buy me peace with that crowd.
Currently, the only solution I saw was to put myself in an unassailable position. What form that would take I had no answer for.
As the Chinese would say, “I was living in interesting times.”
When I got to England, I found out how interesting it could be. Mr. Norman had left messages everywhere for me. This included having me met at my aircraft by a uniformed member of the Coldstream Guard. I was to proceed directly to the Palace.
I think that meant I was not to Pass Go or collect two hundred dollars.
I had a good night's sleep on the flight over, so I was ready for the day when we landed in London early in the morning.
I was driven to Buckingham Palace with a police escort, sirens, and all. I had no idea what all the fuss was about.
Usually, when I went to Buck House it was for a meeting with Mr. Norman. This time I was taken directly to a conference room where the Queen, the Prime Minister, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and several others who I didn’t know awaited me.
I made a formal greeting to the Queen and nodded to the rest. Until I knew what this was all about, I was saying nothing. They didn’t have the fifth amendment in England, but I wasn’t going to open my mouth and incriminate myself.
Elizabeth opened with, “Lord Blackhoof thank you for your prompt attendance at our request.”
I nodded in response, nope, not going to incriminate myself.
“You have certainly set the ravens at the Tower in flight.”
Oh great, the legend was that if the ravens remained at the Tower of London, England would stand. What have I done?
“This week the Bank of England received one thousand tons of gold for deposit and safekeeping from the Chinese. This alone has strengthened our country’s economy.”
“Then you moved production to our shores to provide desperately needed jobs. On top of that, you opened a European Headquarters here, making our economy that much stronger.”
“Then you made a series of trades in English pounds that made you a fortune which has now made you the highest taxed individual in English history. Again, strengthening the economy. “
“We had made a promise to you that you would not have to pay taxes on English income. It is highly embarrassing that we must break that promise. You notice I have used, ‘We,’ that is the Royal ‘We.’
That one was easy.
“Your Majesty before you break your Royal promise, I would like to ask my taxes be the same as every other Englishman, that I will be given no special consideration.”
The feelings of relief around the table were palpable.
“Countess Jackson predicted that would be your answer. We thank you.”
Boy, while I slept the phone lines must have been burning up.
“Because of your actions We have decided to offer you a Dukedom.”
Crickey, everyone wants me to be a Duke.
“Your Majesty I must decline; I recently declined that honor from the Chinese and they would lose face if I accepted the British honor.
“Again, the Countess is correct. Know this: You have a special place in the heart of England.”
Interesting times indeed.
Chapter 45
After the meeting, I was invited to a ball on Saturday evening. It would be for the younger set of Royals and their noble friends. Since I didn’t have to be back in LA to work on the movie until Monday I accepted.
At least this gave Harold something to do as it was in full dress, but no military. For me, that meant white tie and tails, with all my medals in miniature.
That was Saturday, I spent the next two days doing the mundane part of my work. I must have signed two thousand cards and letters to employees and friends. An autopen machine was sounding better all the time.
We used one for my general publicity work, but it looked like I would have to start using one more often. Only my most personal letters would be signed by me. I didn’t like it, but it was one of the realities that I had to face.
Another was that I wouldn’t be able to drive myself blithely around the countryside. Now it would be a limousine with a driver and bodyguard.
I checked up on how the establishment of the Bank of Guangzhou was going. Everything appeared to be in order. That made me suspicious, nothing was ever in order when dealing with the Chinese. That is unless the powers that be, wanted it to be.
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br /> Based on my suspicions I called Chairman or now Prince Deng. An aide told me to hold as my calls were to be referred to His Highness at once.
They were taking this change to a system of nobility seriously.
When he came on the line, I told him I was concerned about the new bank. There were no reported problems and on a project of this size and complication, there would be problems.
He agreed with my thinking and told me he would have it looked at. Heads would roll if someone were obstructing. I took that as a literal statement rather than a figurative one.
I didn’t think that I want to spend too much time in China until things settle down. One could come down with a serious case of death for little reason.
Saturday, I spent at the archery butts at the Tower. I hadn’t practiced enough, and it was a use it or lose it operation. For me, it wasn’t a sport but a tool of my trade. I’m not sure what my trade is but being able to place an arrow where I needed it had done well for me.
Saturday, I arrived at the appointed time and place, this being the ballroom at the Plaza on the Strand. This was very convenient for me as it was only an elevator ride away and would make an escape if needed easy, to say the least.
I soon realized that I might need that escape route when I was announced. All eyes turned to me. As I entered the room there was a flow of bodies toward me. Not a charge, that would be unseemly, more like a school of fish changing direction.
This school seemed to be made up of sharks.
The sharks, uh, guests were of two types, guys hunting for a loan: and girls hunting for a husband. At least with the guys, you could give them the money and you could be certain you wouldn’t see them again until they needed more.
The women would either stay with you your whole life or agree to go away as soon as you signed everything over.
There were probably some nice people in the room that I would like to get to know, but they avoided being near the sharks.
I talked to a couple of dozen as they welcomed me to England. I wonder if they knew I was born here. It didn’t take long for my first impressions to be validated. There was no shame with this crowd as they openly asked for loans.
