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A SURE GAMBLE - There is no such thing
There was a period in my life when I was single and had no responsibility outside of staying alive. During those days I was surrounded by the old golf professionals of that era. Frankly, the likes of many of the pros of those days left a lot to be desired. The majority of them were ex-caddies, with a minimum of education. They were, however, well educated in the field of hustling and gambling.
A true gambler will figure all of the odds and rarely gambles on anything of which he does not have some sort of control. On the other hand, the addictive gambler will bet on anything and everything, hoping to get rich and never have to work again. On occasions, when they do win, they cannot wait to try to make more, and usually lose everything. I have been around people who cannot stand to not have a bet of some kind, and if the odds are right they will bet that the next man who walks in the door will drop dead.
One of the greatest gamblers of all times was Titanic Thompson. The story of his life is fascinating and is in a book titled “The Unsinkable Titanic Thompson.” Thompson usually carried another good golfer with him on some of his hustling trips. It was the old “switch” hustle. Thompson was a great left hand player, and his companion would be right handed. They would go to a club reversing clubs, and after they found out where the money was, would challenge them to a match for a great deal of money. Then they would reverse to their own clubs and clean house.
One of the men who accompanied Thompson at one time was Leonard Dodson. Dodson was a fine golfer, but better know for his gambling exploits. One night, at a tournament, I was sitting at a table in a den of iniquity with Dodson, who incidentally was wearing a black eye. Eventually he told me how he broke up with Thompson. Dodson did not live at the foot of the cross, but Thompson had a lot of money at stake with his ventures, and made Dodson stay in training. One night they were at a table having dinner, and Thompson had Dodson eating a lot of “rabbit” food. At one point Dodson pushed the food away and told Thompson he wanted to eat something else. Dodson said, “Thompson lifted up his napkin on the table and under it he had a gun pointed at me” Thomson said. “Eat it.” Dodson said, “I ate it,but went down the fire escape that night.”
I had the opportunity to play many rounds of golf with Jimmy Nichols, the famed one-armed player. He took me with him for a number of exhibitions along the Gulf Coast one winter. Jimmy had been a professional fighter before he lost his arm, and was a tough character. He practically owned me with all of the tricks he pulled on me. It was an education that served me well in later years.
Over the years I had learned not to rely on percentages, but bet only on sure things. During the war years I had played on the Tyndall Field base golf team. A member of that team was a fellow by the name of Harold Williams. Harold could hit it out of sight. After the war I had been Assistant Pro at the old Hermitage C. C, in Richmond, Virginia, and in 1949 Hermitage hosted the National PGA tournament. Harold arrived and entered the driving contest. I bought him in the Calcutta for a mere fifty dollars. Harold hit all three shots out of bounds. The next year, at another site, he won it with 343 yards.
While Pro-Mgr. of the Maxwell Air Force Base golf course in Montgomery, Alabama, we hosted the Air Force Championship. One of my duties at that club, was to play with visiting “brass.” I had the opportunity to play with a contestant in his practice round. This man could really play, but his job had prevented him from playing in the usual service tournaments, and he was not known by the regular tournament players. It so happened that before the war he had been a three time winner of the Mississippi state championship. In the Calcutta, all of the real money was bet on the well known players. I bought him for 35.00
The first tee at the golf course was close to the pro shop and I was standing there waiting to see my man tee off, when the phone rang. I answered it, and it was for the Colonel. I called him in and he took the message. He was elated and went out yelling, “My discharge just came through.” He then proceeded to hit two balls out of bounds, and said, “Hell, I can’t play in this thing any way, I am a civilian.” So much for sure bets.
I bought some stock in a sure fire new type of driving range and golf course combination. The day it opened the clubhouse burned down.
Jack Harkins, who used to own The Professional Golf Co. once called me and told me that he just bought a drink company that had gone out of business years ago. He had restructured it, changed the name, and had some powerful backers. Stock was selling at ten cents a share. I put a hundred dollars in it and it went up to a dollar forty a share, and I was on the road to early retirement. They had bought a can company and had the drinks in cans in all of the grocery stores. We were about to put Coca Cola out of business. The cans developed an air leak and everything on the market turned sour, including my hundred bucks.
Never trust a man who writes down his scores and then wipes his finger prints off of the pencil.