Vintage Golf Anyone?

[Paul Roberts]

My Dad came to live with us the year he turned 90. He once loved to golf, so I popped 3 golf holes in to a rather expansive lawn area on our property. Because Dad's mobility has become limited -strength and balance- they are short holes, 50-70yrds, to be chipped to with short irons. Since Dad had given up golf some years back due to his eroding mobility, we picked up a couple of irons and a few balls at a thrift store, $3 8 and 9-irons.

Dad was a skilled golfer, and he still has it. Despite tiring so much that I’ve had to help him back to the car, he's managed 2 holes-in-one! What is so hard to believe is that there are no greens, or even fairways, here on our homemade course; A course we’ve dubbed "Hell Holes". It's mowed regularly, but not groomed in any way. How a golf ball could find its way into a small hole 60yrds away seems a statistical impossibility. But Dad has managed it twice.

Those were good days. On most he hadn't been able to reach the pin. But playing -and watching golf tournaments on TV (he'd never had the Golf Channel before)- has motivated him. And surprisingly, he was game to go to physical therapy. After several weeks, and continued work-outs at home, his strength and some balance has returned. As of this week he's got his hip rotations back into his swing and he's firing away to the pin pretty consistently now!

Oh yes, and I should say that we play as a threesome. Our Border Collie, Maggie, comes along too and has become something of a “golf dog”. Being a Border Collie she wants to participate and takes direction well, esp via hand signals. The discipline involved is having her not pick up a ball. Her job is to mark hit balls, and find any errant ones (that disappear from sight in the surrounding woods edges). And, being a Border Collie, she picks up language very quickly, having caught on to the word “golf” and is by the door ready to go when the word is uttered.

So… I was in an antiques shop just a few days ago and, as a re-minted golfer, I noticed a set of very pretty irons that looked to be hickory shafted, and with fine leather wrapped grips. They were simply beautiful clubs and were in very nice condition. There was an 8-iron and it fit me well, so I bought it.

Back at home, and curious, I researched them: “Spalding Kro-Flight Bobby Jones”. There are vintage golf club collectors too of course so there was info to be found on these particular clubs. I also ran the patents finding the earliest dated 1927, the latter 1934. They are not hickory but “Pyratone” coated, a plastic, bonded to steel, that could be made to closely mimic hickory wood. If unsure, the definitive test is to apply a magnet to the shaft. If it sticks, it’s coated steel. Mine are coated.

Such faux hickory clubs were some of the earliest steel golf clubs. Steel eventually won out over hickory in the minds of conservative golfer’s, or at least tournament directors, by the mid-30’s. Apparently, hickory shafts were still vaunted, thus the attempts at covering the steel shafts. The set of clubs I found were designed by none other than Bobby Jones, shortly after his retirement from competition.

Apparently, these clubs do not have all that much value, or at least the value that true hickory shafted clubs in very good condition might fetch. A statement in the book “Golf Classics Price and Identification Guide” read, “Early Jones and Kro-Flite irons with yellow coated shafts are too recent for antique collectors, yet too old to be really playable.” Sound familiar? Just like the "vintage" direct-drive casting reels I'm so taken with.

I thought about giving the club to Dad for Christmas but winter is long and… who knows whether we’ll even be able to play next spring. So I presented it to him right away. This morning, we traded off between the two 8’s we had and we found nothing wanting in the beautiful Jones’ club. The grip turne out to be too narrow for my dad’s arthritic hands, so I ended up using it. We both agreed that changing the grip would spoil the aesthetic.

We also watched an old 1930's film "How I Play Golf" featuring Bobby Jones. He had some good tips and helped me handle that old club of his surprisingly well. Dad and I regularly rib each other, very good-naturedly. (Dad has always been a gracious gentleman, but truly funny too). After a good shot I boasted that Bobby Jones was peering down from the heavens. After lining up my second shot, I popped the shot well past the hole! Dad chuckled and suggested that Jones’ nemesis, Walter Hagen was watching too! I guess I’ll have to keep my eyes open for a vintage Walter Hagen 8-iron for Dad for future matches.

Oh, my! Dad found a picture of himself playing for his college team, sometime in the 50's:



No Way! Not possible!!

Golf Dog. "Good mark!"

Being a Border Collie... Maggie wants to get ahead of the game. "Sorry sweetie, not helpful."

Another antique store find: A range finder. "I'm away. No, I think I'm away."

The little diamond and dot indicates that this club head is a "light weight" head.

Bobby Jones introduced the "Sweet Spot" on the club face.


Pyratone. Interestingly, this set had wood grain added too. I did not see that in photo's of other such clubs.

A very beautiful club, I think.


1932 advertisement for Spalding Bobby Jones signature golf clubs.

[john elder]

What a great story and those are indeed, classic clubs. But the real class act here is a son who would do so much to get his aging dad off the couch and give him some good quality of life! We should all have sons like you and i’m sure your dad is very proud.

Now… let’s get him a good casting rod!

[Mike N]

Just a great thread. What a great way to honor your pops.

When my father returned from WW II after being severely wounded in combat, he still had over 40 pieces of shrapnel in his lower body and legs. The doctors at Walter Reed prescribed walking a golf course. The only flat course in the hilly Upper Ohio Valley (this was before massive earth moving equipment was being used to build golf courses) was one along the Ohio River, between Wheeling WV and Steubenville, Ohio. It flooded every spring. My dad would walk the course pulling his clubs behind him.

After Bill Mazeroski homered in Game 7 of the World Series to beat the Yankees, he returned to his nearby hometown in Tiltonsville, Ohio and later purchased that course which was renamed for him. When I was younger we used to try to hit a ball onto the numerous barges floating up and down the Ohio River, but mostly just wanted to throw rocks into the river. I would later take my two young sons to the same course when they were little and they would do the same thing. The tavern next to the course had cans of sardines and smoked oysters on the bar menu. Maz’s Golden Glove award (one of eight he earned) was perched behind the bar on a shelf and you could pick it up and hold it if you wanted.

I still have my dad’s old clubs that look similar to the photos above. I’ll post a photo later if I can find them. Alas, neither my dad nor I ever got our handicaps into the single digits but his grandsons aren’t too shabby. I met Arnold Palmer at his course in Latrobe PA 35 years ago (he was so gracious) and got his autograph on a scorecard. When I was showering in the locker room my brother or my brother in law (they still argue who) put their draft beer down on the scorecard and left a big beer mug stain on the autograph. I’m still upset about it.

[Paul Roberts]

Thanks, John. COVID was hard on him as the isolation took a toll. No more breakfasts with his artist buddies -actually their children now as he’d outlived the original group. Seeing the carpeting at the foot of his living room recliner facing the TV worn nearly threadbare broke my heart. You're comin' with us, we told him. I know he was relieved.

Casting... I don't think we'll get there. The terrain here is just too challenging, and he wouldn't be much interested in random casting off a dock somewhere. But, if he keeps up on his exercises, who knows?

Mike, great, interesting story surrounding your dad. Love the generational hitting of balls onto barges on the Ohio. Reminds me of my brother and I hitting balls from our front lawn, perched on a glacial drumlin, down into the goldenrod field below. If you got a hold of one flush you could reach the road. One day I put a ball into the open bed of a truck hauling a pile of old tires. He never stopped, didn't seem to notice thank god.

[Ray Hencken]

Paul,
You're a good son. We all should have sons as thoughtful and caring as you. God bless you and may your father hit a few more holes in one.
Ray

[Paul Roberts]

Thanks, Ray.