college.”
Bruce took the extra money but not the advice. Lotz had already lined up another bag for him the following week in Philadelphia with Bob Shaw, another Australian, although not a player with Graham’s skills or pedigree. That didn’t matter to Bruce. He was traveling and working and he had $100 in his pocket, more than enough to pay for a ticket to Philadelphia. When he arrived at Whitemarsh Valley Country Club and checked the Thursday-Friday pairings, his eyes went wide. Shaw was paired with none other than Jack Nicklaus. That was when he sent his first postcards home—to Crandall and Leahey.
“Paired with Nicklaus this week,” he wrote. “Plenty of work out here. When are you coming?”
Leahey, who had just finished his sophomore year of college, was already making his plans to get out there. Crandall was impressed, maybe a tad jealous, but not quite ready to make the commitment. When Bruce called home that week to tell his parents he was okay and paired with Nicklaus, even Jay had to admit that was pretty cool.
Bruce still remembers the two days with Nicklaus. He remembers how deliberate he was and how competitive he was and how far he hit the ball. Nicklaus was at his zenith at the time. He had won the Masters and the U.S. Open the previous year en route to winning seven tournaments. That year, he had already won three times and would win the PGA Championship before summer’s end. Being that close to the world’s greatest golfer was an awe-inspiring experience. The only downer was that Shaw missed the cut. Like Graham, Shaw wrote Bruce a check for $100. Unlike Graham, he didn’t tell Bruce to go home and go to college. Instead he told him to meet him in Milwaukee in three weeks, after the U.S. Open and the Western Open, both tournaments where tour caddies were not allowed.
Bruce could have gone home for a few days, seen his family, and taken things easy before heading to Milwaukee. But he didn’t want his parents to think he was homesick, and he was afraid his father would reopen the whole college issue. So he went straight to Milwaukee and encountered his first welcome-to-the-road experience when he got off the bus. There was an older man standing in the waiting area when Bruce and his friend Tom Lovett arrived early on a Sunday morning.
“Look at you,” the man said to Bruce. “You’re so pretty you should be in Hollywood.”
“I thought, ‘Oh boy, here we go,’” Bruce said, years later.
The man was persistent. Where did they need to go? he asked. When Bruce told him the name of the motel where they were staying, he told them it was a good twenty miles away, a long, expensive cab ride or a tough hitchhike. He would give them a ride. Bruce and Lovett figured at worst it was two against one. They accepted the offer. When they got to the car, they found that their new friend had a friend of his own. Now it was two-on-two. Still, they were young, athletic, and, if necessary, fast.
“We get to the motel and we start to get out and the guy says, ‘Why don’t you come and go sailing with us on Lake Michigan?’” Bruce said. “I knew it was time to cut this cord, so I just said, ‘Listen, thanks a lot for the ride, but this is it, we’re leaving.’ He never actually offered us money or anything, but it was pretty clear that’s where it was going, so we got out of there. It was kinda scary, but it never got really bad. We probably should have just hitched. It wasn’t as if we had anything to do that day.”
Of course if Jay and Natalie had heard the story, they probably would have flown to Milwaukee to bring Bruce home that day. He did not include it in his report the next time he called home.
Bruce then made the second mistake of his caddying career. When he had parted company with Shaw in Philadelphia, Shaw had said something about calling him prior to Milwaukee. Bruce had assumed Shaw meant he should call if there was any problem, otherwise he would see him there. Shaw had
Bruce took the extra money but not the advice. Lotz had already lined up another bag for him the following week in Philadelphia with Bob Shaw, another Australian, although not a player with Graham’s skills or pedigree. That didn’t matter to Bruce. He was traveling and working and he had $100 in his pocket, more than enough to pay for a ticket to Philadelphia. When he arrived at Whitemarsh Valley Country Club and checked the Thursday-Friday pairings, his eyes went wide. Shaw was paired with none other than Jack Nicklaus. That was when he sent his first postcards home—to Crandall and Leahey.
“Paired with Nicklaus this week,” he wrote. “Plenty of work out here. When are you coming?”
Leahey, who had just finished his sophomore year of college, was already making his plans to get out there. Crandall was impressed, maybe a tad jealous, but not quite ready to make the commitment. When Bruce called home that week to tell his parents he was okay and paired with Nicklaus, even Jay had to admit that was pretty cool.
Bruce still remembers the two days with Nicklaus. He remembers how deliberate he was and how competitive he was and how far he hit the ball. Nicklaus was at his zenith at the time. He had won the Masters and the U.S. Open the previous year en route to winning seven tournaments. That year, he had already won three times and would win the PGA Championship before summer’s end. Being that close to the world’s greatest golfer was an awe-inspiring experience. The only downer was that Shaw missed the cut. Like Graham, Shaw wrote Bruce a check for $100. Unlike Graham, he didn’t tell Bruce to go home and go to college. Instead he told him to meet him in Milwaukee in three weeks, after the U.S. Open and the Western Open, both tournaments where tour caddies were not allowed.
Bruce could have gone home for a few days, seen his family, and taken things easy before heading to Milwaukee. But he didn’t want his parents to think he was homesick, and he was afraid his father would reopen the whole college issue. So he went straight to Milwaukee and encountered his first welcome-to-the-road experience when he got off the bus. There was an older man standing in the waiting area when Bruce and his friend Tom Lovett arrived early on a Sunday morning.
“Look at you,” the man said to Bruce. “You’re so pretty you should be in Hollywood.”
“I thought, ‘Oh boy, here we go,’” Bruce said, years later.
The man was persistent. Where did they need to go? he asked. When Bruce told him the name of the motel where they were staying, he told them it was a good twenty miles away, a long, expensive cab ride or a tough hitchhike. He would give them a ride. Bruce and Lovett figured at worst it was two against one. They accepted the offer. When they got to the car, they found that their new friend had a friend of his own. Now it was two-on-two. Still, they were young, athletic, and, if necessary, fast.
“We get to the motel and we start to get out and the guy says, ‘Why don’t you come and go sailing with us on Lake Michigan?’” Bruce said. “I knew it was time to cut this cord, so I just said, ‘Listen, thanks a lot for the ride, but this is it, we’re leaving.’ He never actually offered us money or anything, but it was pretty clear that’s where it was going, so we got out of there. It was kinda scary, but it never got really bad. We probably should have just hitched. It wasn’t as if we had anything to do that day.”
Of course if Jay and Natalie had heard the story, they probably would have flown to Milwaukee to bring Bruce home that day. He did not include it in his report the next time he called home.
Bruce then made the second mistake of his caddying career. When he had parted company with Shaw in Philadelphia, Shaw had said something about calling him prior to Milwaukee. Bruce had assumed Shaw meant he should call if there was any problem, otherwise he would see him there. Shaw had
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