Canterbury’s Tales
The Story of Championship Golf at Canterbury Golf Club
DAVID BENJAMIN
FOREWORD BY JACK NICKLAUS
Canterbury’s Tales
The Story of Golf at Canterbury Golf Club
PUBLISHED BY
Canterbury Golf Club
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First Printing, 2025
Printed in the United States of America.
ISBN: 000-0-000-00000-0
Written by David Benjamin
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“God… Family… School… Sports… Canterbury.”
THE SIGNATURE MOTTO OF CADDIE MASTER MICHAEL KIELY, KNOWN AS “MR. CANTERBURY,”
WHICH HE REPEATED TO INCOMING YOUTH CADDIES EACH SPRING
Canterbury’s Tales
The Story of Championship Golf at Canterbury Golf Club
David Benjamin
FOREWORD BY JACK NICKLAUS
FOREWORD –00
Celebrating Our History by
Dick Brubacker
INTRODUCTION A Tale of Canterbury – 00
CHAPTER THREE Dummy copy –00
PROLOGU E — 00 A Moment I will Never Forget by
CHAPTER ONE Dummy copy –00
CHAPTER TWO Dummy copy –00
CHAPTER FOUR Dummy copy –00
CHAPTER FIVE Dummy copy –00
Jack Nicklaus
CHAPTER SIX
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CHAPTER SEVEN
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CHAPTE REIGHT
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CHAPTER NINE
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CHAPTE TEN
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
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APPENDICE S – 376
ACKNOWLEDGMENT S – 400
Celebrating our History
IHAVE BEEN A MEMBER of Canterbury since 1957, having joined as a junior member. As with any social club or other group where people get together to socialize, work, or pursue a common interest, the reputation, worth, and success of Canterbury is the result of the quality, vision, and dedication of its members. From the Founders to the current members, that vision and dedication to make Canterbury a first-class golf venue is evidenced by its history of hosting thirteen major championships with their winners being among the true greats and legends of golf. Further, in 1945, Canterbury named Henry G. Picard—a winner of the Masters in 1938 and the PGA in 1939—as its second head pro. Because Mr. Picard was the ultimate gentleman and a well-known successful professional, he attracted students from all over the United States, thus adding to Canterbury’s luster as a premier national golfing experience.
As someone once said, “you win with quality people,” and that certainly is the case with Canterbury Golf Club through its members and golf professionals, including Mike Kiely, its esteemed and now retired caddiemaster. Read on to capture this exciting and wonderful success story.
— Dick Brubacker
A Moment I will never Forget
by Jack Nicklaus
THE MOMENT I remember most from the 1973 PGA Championship wasn’t the final putt, the roar of the crowd, or even the trophy presentation. It was what happened just after I holed out on the 72nd hole at Canterbury Golf Club.
I was 33 years old at the time. By then, I’d won a good number of tournaments—majors included— but this one carried extra weight. With that win, I’d secured my 12th professional major, and when you included my two U.S. Amateur wins, I’d reached 14 total, passing Bobby Jones’s career mark of 13. That meant something in the world of golf. Bobby had been one of my heroes growing up, and even though some people tried to separate professional majors from amateur ones, I always respected his full body of work. To pass a number that had stood for so long—it felt significant.
But what happened on the green that Sunday afternoon is what truly stayed with me. Not because of its historical context, but because of what it meant to me as a father.
I remember that the final round had been steady. I wasn’t playing lights-out golf, but I was in control. I’d played smart all week—kept the ball in the right spots, didn’t take unnecessary risks. I knew what I
needed to do. I wasn’t chasing a score. I was playing to win. And as I walked up the 18th fairway with the lead, I started to allow myself to think: “This is it.”
The final hole at Canterbury isn’t overly dramatic—it’s straightforward. But in the final moments of a major, any shot can feel like a minefield. I had a short putt left—three, maybe four feet. Not the kind you’d expect to miss, but with a major on the line, nothing is automatic. I stepped up, trusted my stroke, and knocked it in.
I raised my hand slightly—just a quiet gesture, nothing flashy. I’ve never been one for big celebrations. The crowd behind the green roared, and for a second, I just stood there, letting the noise sink in. I’d won another major. I’d made history.
Then I looked up—and that’s when I saw him.
Gary was just four years old, and he came sprinting across the green with no hesitation whatsoever. I didn’t know he was going to do it. No one did. He must have slipped through the ropes and made a break for it. I saw this small figure running toward me at full speed, and within seconds, he launched himself into my arms.
I caught him—instinctively, like I’d done a hundred times at home when the kids would jump off
the couch or run up after a school play. But this time, it was on the 18th green of a major championship, in front of thousands of people.
He hugged me tight and said something like, “You did it, Dad!” It hit me hard. That voice, that hug—so honest, so full of pride—it caught me off guard. I’d just won a major, but in that moment, that didn’t seem like the most important thing. What mattered was the look on Gary’s face, the excitement in his voice, and the fact that he wanted to share that moment with me, right then and there.
I held him for a few seconds, not really thinking about where we were or what came next. I just
stood there with my son in my arms, and the noise around us faded into the background. It was one of those rare moments in life when everything feels still.
I glanced over to the side of the green and saw Barbara.
She was standing there, a few feet back from the crowd, and she was smiling. She had tears in her eyes—proud tears, the kind only a parent or spouse would understand. It wasn’t just about the golf. It was about everything we’d gone through to get to that point. Barbara and I had been through a lot together by then. We were raising four kids, and my
The Nicklaus Family at Canterbury during 1973 PGA Championship— Nan, Barbara, Gary and Jack
schedule was demanding. I was gone more often than I liked, and she was the one holding everything together at home—managing the house, getting the kids to school, making sure our family stayed grounded. I’ve said it many times and meant it: I couldn’t have done what I did without Barbara. That look on her face—it was pride, yes, but it was also love and partnership. She wasn’t just watching her husband win a major. She was watching the father of her children be embraced by one of them in a way that made it all worth it.
It’s funny—people talk about defining moments in a career. They usually mean the big shots, the clutch putts, the championships. But sometimes the defining moments don’t come from the sport itself. Sometimes they come from the people who share it with you. That hug from Gary told me everything I needed to know about why I played the game—and who I was playing it for.
green without worrying about what anyone else thought—it says a lot about the moment. It was real. We didn’t make a big deal about it afterward. I think Gary may have gotten a gentle talking-to from someone about staying behind the ropes, but no one minded. People could see what it meant. It was one of those unscripted moments that you couldn’t have written better if you tried.
In all the years since, through all the wins and honors, that day has stuck with me. It reminds me of what mattered most—not the trophies, but the people who stood beside me. The ones who lived through the ups and downs, who sacrificed their own time so I could chase mine.
That photo—me holding Gary on the green— ended up in a lot of newspapers. I still see it from time to time, and when I do, I don’t think about breaking a record. I think about that feeling of having my son run to me, not because I was Jack Nicklaus the golfer, but because I was just “Dad” to him.
He didn’t care about the scorecard or the record books. He just wanted to be there. And the fact that he had the guts to run onto the
Barbara has always been that anchor for me. And seeing her that day, watching me and Gary from just off the green, I knew she felt it, too. We didn’t have to say anything in that moment. We both understood what it meant.
I’ve been lucky in this game. Lucky to play it at the highest level. Lucky to win. But more than that, I’ve been lucky to share those moments with my family. That’s what I carry with me. That’s what stays long after the final putt.
And that hug from Gary—on a warm Sunday afternoon in Ohio—will always be one of the best moments of my life.
A Tale of Canterbury
THE FOLLOWING IS A TALE. It’s all true, but it is a tale nonetheless. A tale about a well-known golf club in Northeastern Ohio that recently celebrated its centennial anniversary. With a nod to Geoffrey Chaucer and his thirteenth-century classic, The Canterbury Tales, this is our own “Canterbury’s Tales.”
Our tale begins during the turn of the century when golf was just getting established in the United States. It quickly moves to a time period known as Golf’s Golden Age, when golf courses rapidly began to spring up as people began to look for more outdoor activity and economic prosperity was growing. And it was in Golf’s Golden Age that a group of men desired to create a special golf course on a special piece of land in the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio—a golf course that would later become known as Canterbury Golf Club.
These pages include tales of the golf tournaments that were held at Canterbury Golf Club over the years, the golf course superintendents who prepared the course for these events, the golf professionals and amateurs who competed in these events, and how this special golf club outside of Cleveland made its lasting mark in the history of the game.
The Tale of the Founding of Canterbury Golf Club
ANTERBURY GOLF CLUB was established in 1921 by John York, Lynn W. Ellis, and several other members of Cleveland’s University Club. The University Club was originally developed as a social club and did not offer golf. Canterbury was initially intended as a menonly club, but a women’s golf committee was active from the club’s start. And from the outset, Member’s wives, sisters, and unmarried daughters played and competed at Canterbury Golf Club as “Associate Members.”
The club’s prospectus, dated December 7, 1920, held that a new golf club was to be located between Center, Green, Kinsman, and South Woodland Roads near Cleveland. The Founders noted the
Opposite and following pages: The prospectus of Canterbury Golf Club
necessity for the club, referencing “the shortage of golf clubs in Cleveland and the demand for additional high class courses.” Two unnamed golf course architects evaluated the site and offered their opinion that, “The land selected offers the possibility, at much less than the anticipated expense, of making the finest [golf] course in Cleveland and one of the best in America.” (While unnamed in the prospectus, the two golf course architects who opined on the potential site were, in fact, Herbert Strong and Captain C. H. Allison.)
The prospectus continued with a detailed description of the property: The contours are ideal. The land is rolling, yet not rugged. The high point is 584 feet above the lake and the low point above 500. Several ravines, two creeks and two wooded spots, plus a small clear pond, already offer great possibilities, and another lake can easily be formed, giving permanent water hazard on either nine. The course is dotted with trees throughout, and some underbrush in low land can be utilized. …
Nearly all of the land has been farmed. The soil is well nourished, in good condition and well drained, promising excellent fairways. According to the
architects, Nature has done so much that construction costs will be low, and surprise is expressed that land of this character, so accessible, could be secured. …
The tentative layout of the course puts the Club house at the highest point, near the center of the 140 acre tract so that four tees and four greens will be within easy reach. The space is ample for eighteen holes, a practice tee, teaching ground, practice putting green and perhaps a few building sites.
The Founders settled on Canterbury Golf Club as the name of their new club. The name was chosen not as a reference to Canterbury, England (nor Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales), but rather to the birthplace of Cleveland’s founder, Moses Cleaveland, who was born in Canterbury, Connecticut, in 1754.
Initially, Canterbury’s Founders formed two separate corporate organizations: The Canterbury Company and The Canterbury Golf Club Company. It was intended that The Canterbury Company would hold the real estate and assets making up the facility, and The Canterbury Golf Club Company would operate the facility, leasing the real estate from The Canterbury Company. On March 1, 1921, The Canterbury Company took title from the Van Sweringen
The crest
THE TALE of Canterbury Golf Club’s crest is rooted in the town of Canterbury, England. The bird on the crest is a chough, which is a member of the crow family found on mountain ranges and coastal cliffs spanning the United Kingdom through Southern Europe, North Africa, and Central Asia. Also known as the red-billed chough or Cornish chough, its literary references date back to Greek mythology where it was often referred to as a “sea crow.” The chough’s most legendary association, however, is the story that King Arthur’s soul migrated into the body of a red-billed chough with the color of its bill and legs stained by the blood of his last battle.
In relation to Canterbury Golf Club, the story of the chough turns to focus on Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Becket and King Henry II in the late twelfth century. The two were once close friends with shared ideas—Becket dutifully served the Royal Crown and did the bidding of the king routinely as chancellor of England, the most important position within the English government. But King Henry’s appointment of Becket as archbishop was a strategic move against the church with the king trusting that his friend would help him exert control over the church and its surging popularity. What Henry misjudged, however, was Becket’s own thirst for power and his increasingly fervent commitment to God and the church. He resigned his chancellorship, and when he refused to support laws that Henry passed in 1164 that would allow anyone found guilty in a church court to be punished by a royal court, Becket fled to France for his own safety.
Above: The Canterbury Golf Club Crest is a rendition of the coat of arms of the city of Canterbury, England, which dates back to city documents as early as 1380.
Right: Canterbury Cathedral, Canterbury, England.
Oil painting by Michael Angelo Rooker, circa 1778
Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Six years later, after the two had resolved some of their differences, Becket returned to England. But the détente would not last. King Henry chose to abandon tradition and anointed his son, Henry III, as heir to the throne in York, a privilege usually reserved for the archbishop of Canterbury. Becket refused to acknowledge the young man, purportedly prompting King Henry II to exclaim, “Who will rid me of this turbulent priest!”
On December 29, 1170, four knights of the Royal Crown rode to Canterbury and slayed Becket in the Canterbury Cathedral. King Henry II was horrified, claiming the assassination was not an order but rather a misunderstanding. The damage was obviously done, however, and the struggle for power between church and crown quickly intensified. Becket was widely viewed as a martyr. The crown was forced to surrender a portion of its power to the church. Just three years later, Thomas was canonized by Pope Alexander III.
Saint Thomas Becket was given a coat of arms consisting of three Cornish red-billed choughs. The town of Canterbury adopted his coat of arms topped by a heraldic leopard signifying the town’s royal status in the year 1380. To this day, the choughs are synonymous with both Thomas Becket and the town of Canterbury, England.
The legend of Saint Thomas Becket grew with the publica-
Opposite: The statue of General Moses Cleaveland by James G. C. Hamilton is located on Public Square in downtown Cleveland. Cleaveland was born in Canterbury, Connecticut
tion of Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales from 1387 to 1400. The stories are told of a group’s pilgrimage to visit the shrine of Saint Thomas Becket at the Canterbury Cathedral. Fast forward to the 1680s, when English settler fromCanterbury reached the shores of North America and settled in an area then known as Peagscomsuck in northeast Connecticut, which they would rename Plainfield. In 1703, a conflict over land resulted in some residents moving across the river and naming the area Canterbury in honor of their former home in England. And Canterbury, Connecticut, was the birthplace of Moses Cleaveland who founded the city of Cleveland, Ohio.
In 1921, Founding Members elected to name Canterbury Golf Club after the birthplace of the city of Cleveland’s founder and adopted the coat of arms of its namesake as their club’s crest.
Though over seven hundred years separate the events surrounding Saint Thomas Becket and the town of Canterbury, England, and Canterbury Golf Club’s founding, they are connected through the legends of a storied past and a revered bird—the chough. Canterbury was proud to identify as its centennial emblem and member logo a modern depiction of the chough looking back on one hundred years of club history.
Above: King Henry II
Left: Saint Thomas Becket was slain in the Canterbury Cathedral.
Company to 128.06 acres of land in eight deeded parcels.
The deeds included several restrictive covenants of note: First, The Canterbury Company committed that it would “within twenty-four months from the date of this instrument, expend in the construction and completion of a clubhouse on the premises the sum of at least Twenty-Five Thousand ($25,000) Dollars.” The Canterbury Company further committed to “construct a Golf Course consisting of not less than 18 holes on said premises, 9 holes of which said Golf Course shall be improved and in suitable condition for playing within 24 months after the date March 1, 1921, and the remaining 9 holes within three years from and after the date March 1, 1921.”
The Van Sweringens, or Vans as the two brothers were known, developed both Canterbury and Shaker Heights Country Club, as well as the relocated Country Club and Pepper Pike Club with the idea that Shaker Heights and the Country Club would be family clubs and Canterbury and Pepper Pike would be men only.
Longtime Canterbury member Ed Hull researched the original acreage purchased from the Vans and presented his findings to Canterbury member Robert E. Cook on March 29, 1974. “Starting at our present entrance on South Woodland, the boundary line extended west on South Woodland to Belvoir Boulevard, then south along Belvoir to Halburton Road, then East along Halburton to Old Green Road, then North along Old Green Road to a point north of our present No. 13 green, then west along a line paralleling South Woodland Road, up through the woods to intersect the line along the entrance driveway just back of our No. 13 tee, and thence along the driveway to South Woodland Road.” It was also originally intended that the building lots bordering the course along South Woodland, Belvoir, and Halburton could only be sold to members of Canterbury.
The club’s land purchase involved securing the parcel at an approximate cost of $175,000, with a $25,000 down payment. Financing of the balance of $150,000 was payable over fourteen years, with payments beginning July 1, 1924, and interest accruing at 6 percent per annum payable semiannually. The club also received options to purchase two parcels fronting on the proposed extension of South Moreland Boulevard.
Golf course architect Herbert Strong was hired to design the golf course and estimated that it could be built for $75,000. Three hundred members paying $600 each would create revenue. Payments would be distributed over the first year, and
Opposite: Cleveland Plain Dealer reports on the progress of Canterbury Golf Club in 1921-22.
dues of $100 per member would not begin until 1922, when the golf course was playable. In the opinion of experienced managers, this would be ample in view of the fact that clubhouse and social features would not be emphasized to the detriment of the golf course.
Upon payment of the first installment on the purchase price, the property would be placed in the hands of a trustee—The Canterbury Club—which would lease it to the club for ninety-nine years at a rental of 6 percent (approximately $9,000) per year upon the balance of the purchase price. The trustee was to issue participating certificates to be held by the owners.
Beginning in 1924 and continuing until 1933, each member would be
required to purchase one of these certificates for $50 and thereafter receive the interest upon his investment. After the ownership of these certificates had passed to the members of the club, it was assumed that a market would be created by requiring new members to purchase ten certificates each in addition to common stock.
Eventually, were the club to so decide, the certificates could be retired by some plan that would vest the entire ownership in common stock. It was confidently predicted that in view of the growth of Cleveland and the present price of property in Shaker Heights, the common stock and its rights in these certificates would prove extremely sound as an investment, and that liquidation would bring
a splendid profit to the members.
An Admissions Committee was created to review all applications, which required sufficient endorsement and acquaintance to insure a high standard of membership. A Membership Committee was also created to act as a canvassing center, standing in relation to the Admissions Committee. Applications would be handled carefully and promptly, subject to double scrutiny. Indications at that time were that a waiting list would be established well in advance of the opening of the course, and the disadvantages of applying before the course opened and the waiting list was initiated would be more than offset by the greater ease of obtaining membership. Temporary and permanent organization was to be initiated as rapidly as possible after the organization meeting on Wednesday, December 15, 1920 at 7:30 p.m. at the University Club, at which the items of business outlined above were considered and approved.
During a Board of Directors meeting held on April 15, 1921, a report was submitted that the Canterbury Golf Club Company offered to enter into a fifteen-year lease on the property to be acquired. It was resolved to employ as landscape architect Herbert B. Strong, who would supervise the development of the property with maximum fee for preparation of plans, specifications, and supervision at an amount not to exceed $3,000 plus expenses. Subscribers to the capital stock of the company would be asked for payment of an additional $100 upon their subscriptions to be made on or before May 1, 1921.
At a special meeting of Canterbury Club Board of Directors on March 24, 1922, Canterbury Golf Club Company requested funds to erect a clubhouse on the property and offered to pay on or before April 1, 1923, the sum of $30,000 toward the construction of the facility. The balance would be added to the cost of the land and 6 percent would be added to the annual rental. A contract for the building of the clubhouse by The Drummond Miller Company was approved. In anticipation of the receipt of the $30,000, the Canterbury Company resolved to borrow an additional $30,000 from O. P. and M. J. Van Sweringen.
Canterbury’s chosen method of governance was lauded in an article entitled “How to Run a Golf Club” by Canterbury Founder, L. W. Ellis, in the May 6, 1922, edition of The American Golfer magazine, recognizing that the new golf clubs sprouting up were not bound by tradition and could explore more efficient ways to govern. The article stated that Canterbury would “open its course early in 1922 with all departments—club house, locker room, professional, greenkeeper,
herbert strong
BORN IN 1879 in Ramsgate, England, Herbert Bertram Strong was one of ten children. His father operated a bakery, and his children were often up by 4:00 a.m. each morning to help him. At an early age, Strong and two of his younger brothers left the bakery business and began working as caddies at Royal St George’s Golf Club in Sandwich. One brother, Leonard, eventually immigrated to the United States to become green superintendent at Saucon Valley Country Club in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. At Royal St George’s, Strong quickly became skilled at both playing golf and golf clubmaking. These were the days of hickory shafts and custom-made clubs, and Strong was good at the work; by the age of twenty-four he was running his own shop at Cambridge University.
In 1905, Strong left England to work at the Apawamis Club in Rye, New York, as the head golf professional. Strong remained at Apawamis until 1911, when he moved to Inwood Country Club in Far Rockaway on New York’s Long Island. Strong was quite the accom plished player and competed in tournaments throughout the greater New York area. He also competed in the 1913 U.S. Open at The Country Club in Brookline, Massachusetts, and was favored to win after his first two rounds but finished ninth overall.
During his time at Inwood, he remodeled the course over several years, eventually leading to the club hosting the 1921 PGA Championship and 1923 U.S. Open. Strong’s career designs include Saucon Valley Country Club’s Old Course, which has hosted numerous USGA events including the 1992, 2000, and 2022 U.S. Senior Opens, 1951 U.S. Amateur, and 2009 U.S. Women’s Open; and Engineers Country Club in Roslyn Harbor, New York, home to the 1919 PGA Championship and 1920 U.S. Amateur.
Strong was one the founding members and first officers of the Professional Golfers’ Association (PGA) of America. As part of a group of golf professionals invited to meet with Rodman Wanamaker for lunch at the Taplow Club in New York on January 17, 1916, Strong was named to the group charged with the responsibility of preparing the PGA’s consti tution. He was later appointed as the organization’s first secretary/treasurer.
Hebert Strong died of a heart attack on October 8, 1944, in Fort Pierce, Florida, at the age of sixty-four.
caddies—absolutely in charge of an executive secretary, or manager, who has the ‘hire-and-fire’ authority to make his management a fact. The directors reasoned that a club could and should be run as a coordinated business instead of by independent committees. They went further and employed as manager the member-secretary who had functioned as the binding link between committees during the formative and construction periods.”
The Board of Directors would oversee everything, with direct governance over the Admissions Committee, which would be made up of two Board members and three members whose identities were kept secret. A Membership Committee would report directly to an Admissions Committee. An Executive Committee would report to the Board and consist of a president supported by a first vice president, a second vice president, a secretary, and a treasurer. The club’s Bylaws, which were adopted by the Board of Directors, defined each committee’s duties and limitations. The two main committees, House and Green, would have one or more Directors on each and would establish their own rules, which would be ratified by the Board and enforced by the club manager, who reported to the Executive Committee. But the manager would be the one to hire and manage all employees.
“Canterbury believes that a competent manager, devoting all his time to it
Above and opposite:
The clubhouse under construction and after its opening in 19XX.
will operate the club far better than committees loosely held together by a volunteer president, and that he will more than save his salary while doing it,” according to the article.
The manager would be advised by the Green Committee and golf professional in his oversite of the greenkeeper; by the Contest Committee regarding the training and “welfare” of the caddies; and by the House Committee regarding any “house affairs.” Beyond that, “It is up to him to form the operating organization and operate the club.”
Any penalty against a member would be imposed by the committees or Board of Directors, if so deemed, but the manager would be the one to carry it out: “He will simply report and ask for instructions in the matter of members’ discipline, but with regard to any club employee he may act at once and with finality.”
Golf course architect Herbert Strong hailed from England’s Sandwich area.
After working at Royal St George’s Golf Club in Kent, Strong immigrated to the United States and began working as the club professional at Apawamis Club in Rye, New York, in 1905. In 1911, he moved to Inwood Country Club in Far Rockaway, New York, which he redesigned over the course of several years. He then was hired to design The Engineers Country Club in Roslyn Harbor on Long Island’s
North Shore in 1917. The Professional Golfers’ Association selected Engineers for the 1919 PGA Championship and Inwood as the site of the 1921 PGA Championship. The USGA in turn chose Engineers for the 1920 U.S. Amateur and would name Inwood as site of the 1923 U.S. Open.
Canterbury members took note of Strong’s experience in designing championship caliber golf courses and selected Strong to design their new club. Drawings and models were to be completed over the winter of 1921, with course construction throughout that year and an opening predicted for June 1922.
The golf course officially opened for play on July 1, 1922, with a golf tournament and inaugural dinner with 176 members in attendance, although not all participated in the golf. The day’s blind handicap event was won by members R. C. Allen and A. C. Teare, who each posted scores of 85. The low gross scores of the day were turned in by M. B. Johnson with 38-41–79. The clubhouse was not yet open, but members and guests celebrated under a canvas tent with a dinner mainly consisting of fried chicken. They remained until the last bit of food was consumed, proclaiming what a great golf course they had, including the 582yard 16th hole, the longest hole of any Cleveland area club, and the 18th green, believed to be the largest green in the Cleveland district.
While golf was first played at Canterbury on July 1, 1922, it took five years for a sub-70 score to be recorded. This finally occurred during a visit of the first British Ryder Cup team to Canterbury in June 1927. The inaugural Ryder Cup Matches were conducted between a team representing the United States captained by Walter Hagen, and a team from Great Britain captained by Ted Ray, a Brit born on the Isle of Jersey in the English Channel who was the winner of the 1912 Open Championship at Muirfield and the 1920 U.S. Open Championship at the Inverness Club in Toledo. The matches were held at Worcester Country Club in Worcester, Massachusetts, June 3–4, with the U.S. team prevailing over Great Britain, 9½ to 2½.
With the 1927 U.S. Open scheduled for Oakmont Country Club in Oakmont, Pennsylvania, June 14–17, the British visitors sought exhibition opportunities to earn extra money before the championship. Canterbury’s membership offered them just that, having raised $2,200 to encourage them to travel to Cleveland and play an exhibition at the course. Canterbury’s Challenge Matches took place between the eight members of the British Ryder Cup team and a group of
Cleveland area pros on Wednesday, June 8.
The Brits did not disappoint. Accompanying team captain and playing member Ted Ray were Art Havers, winner of the 1923 Open Championship at Royal Troon; George Duncan, winner of the 1920 Open Championship at Royal Cinque Ports in Kent; Fred Robson; Aubrey Boomer, who would tie for second in the 1927 Open Championship behind Bobby Jones at St Andrew’s and was a three-time French Open champion at that point; George Gadd, who did not play in the Ryder Cup Matches; Charles Whitcombe, who won the 1928 and 1930 British PGA Matchplay Championship and the 1930 Irish Open; and Archie Compston, who would win the 1927 British PGA Matchplay Championship defeating Walter Hagen, 18 and 17, in a seventy-two-hole match.
Great Britain’s Aubrey Boomer, who grew up on the Isle of Jersey like his Ryder Cup Captain Ted Ray, was in full form and shot the low score of the day, setting the Canterbury course record with a 69. The exhibition was played over the Canterbury course as it was originally laid out, a 36-35 par 71. (The anticipated renovation to the back nine was completed shortly after this exhibition.)
Behind Boomer and his course record came grizzled and gray-haired Ted Ray, who fashioned a 38-35–73, and was paired with Robson. Only two of the Brits failed to impress—George Duncan, who needed 78 shots to complete his Canterbury round, and Charles Whitcombe who, after picking up on two or three holes, turned in no card. Other British scores included George Gadd with a 75, and Archie Compton and Fred Robson who both turned in a pair of 74s.
Ted Ray’s giant drives were present that day, but they had some local competition. Lloyd Gullickson of nearby Wickliffe planted his ball beyond Ray’s on several holes. Gullickson and Harry Rees of Westwood gave Ray and Robson quite a battle. They stayed even with their British opponents for seven holes, but the Brits had a 3 and 2 triumph. The locals did capture one of the four best-ball matches with Bob Shave of Aurora and Grange Alves of Acacia teamed up, scoring a 1-up victory over George Duncan and Charles Whitcombe.
In the other two matches, Havers and Gadd trimmed Rudy Fielitz and Albert Alcroft, 3 and 2, and Boomer and Archie Compston beat Bill Livie and Tom Rackletts, 5 and 4. For being low medalist, Boomer pocketed a hundred dollars with Ted Ray earning fifty dollars for second place. The long-driving contest preceding the matches went to Charles Whitcombe who made 23 points.
The Tale of the Western Opens
1932
N THE MIDST of suffering through Depression-based financial difficulties during which the club closed for four months—from December 1931 through March 1932—Canterbury Golf Club agreed to host the 1932 Western Open. After meeting with Western Golf Association officers President R. A. Wood, First Vice President N. B. Freer, Second Vice President H. C. Gifford, and Secretary H. C. Bartolomay (all of whom traveled to Cleveland for the meeting), Canterbury Club President E. B. Roberts announced on January 23, 1932, that Canterbury would host the 1932 Western Open. It was forecasted to take place on the last week of June or the
first week of July and was expected to attract a field of 125 to 150 of the leading amateurs and professionals of the day.
The tournament was ultimately held Thursday, June 30 through Sunday, July 2, the week following the U.S. Open, which was played at Fresh Meadow Country Club in Flushing, New York, and won by Gene Sarazen fresh from his Open Championship victory at Prince’s Golf Club in Sandwich, England, earlier that month. On the final day of the U.S. Open, Sarazen began the third round with a first nine of 38, which appeared to shoot him out of the event, but he fol lowed that up with a fourth round total of 32-34–66 to defeat Bobby Cruickshank by three shots. Despite having been one of the first competitors to register to play in the West ern Open, Sarazen ultimately withdrew citing exhaustion.
Among the competitors at the Western Open was defending champion Ed Dudley who’d won his 1931 title at the Donald Ross-designed Miami Valley Golf Club in Dayton, Ohio. Miami Valley has the distinction of being the host club of the last match-play format of the PGA Championship in 1957.
Prior to the 1932 Western Open, Dudley had never played golf in the Cleveland area,either in a tournament or an exhibition match. Dudley was a native Georgian who would be selected by Bobby Jones as August National Golf Club’s first head professional when the course opened in 1932. Dudley remained at August National until 1957 and would be remembered years later for not only his playing career but his impressive list of celebrity pupils including singer Bing Crosby, entertainer Bob Hope, and President Dwight Eisenhower. Indeed, to this day, Dudley is credited with curing Eisenhower’s slice. Dudley led the PGA Tour in 1931 in scoring average with a 71.39 compiled over thirty rounds. In addition to winning the 1931 Western Open by shooting a 4-under par 280 in the searing Dayton heat, Dudley also captured the 1931 Los Angeles Open and its $3,500 winner’s check. Despite being struckby lightning during the Philadelphia Open that August, Dudley finished second in that event.
Notable among the expected competitors at Canterbury was Tomekichi Miyamoto, a 130-pound head pro from Ibaraki Country Club in Osaka,
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Japan—the first Japanese golfer to ever seriously enter international golf competition. He competed in the British Open at Sandwich and at the U.S. Open at Fresh Meadow prior to coming to the Western Open at Canterbury where he shot 311 to finish in a tie for forty-ninth place.
An admissions fee of one dollar was charged for the first two days of the tournament, which increased to two dollars for the final day’s thirty-six holes of play. A ticket for the three days of practice rounds could be obtained for three dollars. The tournament entry fee for amateurs was set by the Western Golf Association at twenty dollars (despite the fact that the entry fee for the U.S. Open was only five dollars), and the amateur handicap limit was 5.
Spencer Duty (who had assisted Head Professional/Greenkeeper Jack Way in renovations to the course between 1927–28) and the Green Committee where Duty served as special assistant to Chairman Russell S. Begg (historical documents disagree as to whether Begg or Duty actually chaired the Green Committee) carried out certain minor course modifications recommended by WGA officials and Jack Way. Commenting on the course as it was prepared for the tournament, Duty said, “At first sight, the course is somewhat deceptive and is apt to give the impression of being much easier than it really is. Sand traps are not the dominant feature of the landscape. The fairways are broad, the greens of ample size and generally with open, inviting entrances. Nor are the greens in the least bit tricky with the possible exception of No. 2. However, low scoring does not prove to be quite as simple a matter as was first supposed, often leaving the player a bit bewildered as to the reasons, and with a firm conviction that another trial will bring home the bacon.”
Duty went on in further detail to describe what competitors would find
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at Canterbury: The course has not been based to any great extent on artificial hazards but rather on the natural character of the ground. Other than the tees and greens there is hardly a flat place on the course, and while not hilly, still the ground twists and rolls, at times abruptly and then fading out into a deceptive appearance of being level. …
While the main part of the greens are as nearly level as well may be, still there is enough grade to provide surface drainage and this slant is not always toward the middle of the fairway. Thus, No. 4 hole bends to the left, but the slant of the green is toward the right of the fairway. The short way to the hole may prove to be the harder way, especially if a strong breeze is blowing. …
The fairways do not go directly over the hills but may follow along the side of a grade, giving a stance where the ball is at a different level from the feet, and one foot is slightly higher than the other, often resulting in the ball flying to an unexpected place. No. 16 is a good example as the ground from the tee to green slants in every possible direction. …
The approaches to the greens maintain this character and if not carefully played may turn the ball to one side. …
Play during the tournament will be from nearly the rear of the tees which will give a length of about 6,600 yards. If there is a typical Canterbury breeze, this distance will be ample for the most exacting, and it might even be advisable to, in some cases, move the tee plates forward. …
It is not generally realized that the Canterbury course is over 1,100 yards above sea level, or nearly 600 feet above Lake Erie, both the lake and the city being visible ten miles to the west. To the south, the hills on the far side of the Cuyahoga Valley, fifteen miles away, loom up. As a result, if there is a breeze anywhere in the vicinity Canterbury gets a strong wind. Any consideration of possible scores is of necessity influenced by the probability of wind. During much of the year this is one of the important hazards, which has had a very considerable effect upon the design of the course. …
There have been no changes made because of the tournament and if any are made they will be slight in character. Canterbury has been developed to provide enjoyable golf to all, and it is not proposed to alter this condition. Other than moving the tee markers back, the conditions will be identical with what usually prevails. …
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Following Canterbury practice, the cups will be placed with absolute fairness without the slightest attempt to make the greens tricky. …
Whether the scores be low or high, we believe that when the returns are in it can be said that the winners have not played dumb golf. Not only must the play be good but it must also be such as to meet the varying conditions.
The weekend prior to the tournament saw heavy rains fall on Cleveland, which helped to alleviate the unexpected June drought conditions encountered by Canterbury Green Superintendent Mal McLaren and other area greenskeepers, the effects of which McLaren was able to lessen by watering portions of fairways through hose connections.
The prior weekend’s rain would not stick around for the start of the tournament. The first round begun in sunny, eighty-two-degree temperatures and saw twenty-three-year-old Inverness Head Professional Alfred Sargent (son of 1909 U.S. Open winner George Sargent) celebrate his honeymoon by making five birdies on his way to a 69 and a one-shot, opening-round lead. Following closely were defending champion Ed Dudley, Harry Cooper, Al Zimmerman, and Waldo Crowder. At the time, Crowder was assistant to Head Professional Art Boggs at nearby Kirtland Country Club and would later serve as Canterbury’s assistant professional. Two shots out of the lead after the third round, Crowder shot 290 to finish three shots behind the winner in a tie for fourth.
After flying in from Detroit the morning the tournament began, Hagen had arrived about 1:00 p.m., putted a while on the practice green, asked his Argentinian traveling companion and fellow golfer Joe Jurado where the first hole was, and walked straight to it. Not having played any practice rounds, Hagen shot a 72 missing four putts of three feet or less. T. Phillip Perkins, runner-up at the recent U.S. Open, missed at least six fairly easy birdies on his way to a 75.
Hagen set the pace on day two. Out early with Jurado, he was 2-under par after seven holes. On the eighth, he hooked his drive into the woods and was three off the tee on his way to a 6. Hagen recovered by birdieing the par-5 ninth, making the turn in a 1-under 35. Birdies at 13 and 14 got him to 3 under for the day as he climbed onto the 16th tee. There, Hagen confronted the power of the Cleveland wind, which led him to pushing his iron shot to the right of the green. He chipped up from there and with two putts carded a bogey 6. Recognizing that the wind would affect many of his fellow competitors, Hagen realized
that the 6 would not destroy his chances. With pars on the final two holes, Hagen hit 70—the low round of the day—despite showers of rain.
Meanwhile, Waldo Crowder, the slender Assistant Professional at Kirtland Country Club, went out strong in his second round making the turn in 2-underpar 34. He began the back nine 3-3-3 (birdie, par, birdie) and was 5-under par for the day standing on the 15th tee as he turned into the teeth of the wind. A missed putt on 15 cost him a bogey. After a fine drive on 16, he pushed his second shot into a bunker alongside the fourth green. His shot out went into the trees, and his fourth shot glanced off another tree and into the heavy rough. Flubbing a mashie-niblick, he finally made it to the green and holed his tricky second putt for a triple-bogey 8. Crowder would conclude the day with an even-par 72, good for a two-round score of 142, tying Hagen, Sargent, and defending champion Dudley for the halfway lead.
The 16th hole also caught Sargent when he hit his third shot, an approach to the green slightly off to the left, for a bogey 6. The 18th hole cost him the outright lead where the wind blew his approach shot over the green leading to another bogey.
Of the leaders, defending champion Dudley was one of a handful who safely navigated 16. Two fine blows and an accurate iron shot got him safely to the green where he just missed his birdie putt and settled for his par 5.
The cut came at 155, with sixty-eight of the original starting field of 135 surviving. Among those missing the cut was seventeen-year-old Canterbury member and amateur Eddie Meister who shot 78-81–159. Eddie’s father E. G. K. Meister was an original Founder of Canterbury, serving later as president in 1943–1944 and as general chairman of the 1946 U.S. Open when it was held at the club. Canterbury Head Professional Jack Way described Eddie Meister’s golf: “That boy isn’t afraid of any of them. He would just as soon
be playing Bobby Jones. Nothing seems to affect his own peculiar style of play.”
Meister would go on to have a notable golf career playing in numerous national events including both the U.S. Amateur and Masters Tournament on several occasions. Perhaps his crowning achievement was in 1954 when he played Arnold Palmer in a thirty-nine-hole semifinal match before finally succumbing 1 down in the longest U.S. Amateur semifinal match ever contested.
Playing together in the final round were leaders Olin Dutra—who would win that year’s PGA Championship less than two months later—and Walter Hagen with Dutra shooting 36 on the front nine to Hagen’s 35.
Hagen made a par 4 on the 10th hole after Dutra missed a two-foot birdie putt. When Dutra dropped a twenty-five-foot birdie putt on 11 and Hagen made a par, Dutra forged two shots ahead. Both made par on the 12th and 13th, although Dutra struggled on 13 driving into the bushes on the left and nearly in the deep forest.
On 14, Dutra got up and down from the front of the green, chipping close. Hagen took three from the front of the green, chipping six feet short of the hole and missing the putt, making a five. Hagen was now three shots down with four to go. Coming to the 15th tee of the final round, Hagen found himself three shots behind Dutra with a cold gale raging around him and a throng of fans surging to his sides and ahead.
On 15, Hagen rolled in a thirty-five-foot birdie putt up to the back level of the green where the hole sat. Dutra, a bit further away than Hagen, chipped thirty inches past the hole, then missed his putt for par. Hagen was now only one shot behind.
The players proceeded to the 618-yard, par-5 16th hole, which they played into the teeth of the gale they had faced all day. After hitting the longer of the two men’s drives, Hagen rifled a beautiful second shot most of the way up the hill but still ten yards away. After topping his second shot, Dutra hit his third shot to within ninety yards of the green. Hagen’s third spoon shot ended up on the left side collar of the green, while Dutra’s fourth shot with his mashie-niblick found the green. After chipping to within two feet, Hagen made the putt for
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par (his only par on the 16th hole all week). When Dutra took two shots to get in with a six, the two were all even.
Hagen and Dutra walked to the tee of the 230-yard, par-3 17th hole with the wind squarely at their back. Hagen chose a 1 iron, and his tee shot stayed under the wind, hit just short of the green, and ran to within six feet of the hole. Dutra’s tee ball hit short of the green and bounced to the left into a grassy bunker. From there, he chipped to within five feet and made the putt for par. Hagen knocked in his birdie putt for a one-shot lead.
Both made par 4s on the final hole. Dutra missed his thirty-foot birdie by an inch. Hagen, much closer after his mashie-niblick second shot to the green, got down in two putts, emerging with a one-shot victory for which he received $500 as the winning purse. For finishing second at 288, Dutra, the head pro of Brentwood Country Club in Los Angeles, received $300.
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Four and a half years after Walter Hagen sank his final putt on the seventy-second hole to win the 1932 Western Open, the Western Golf Association announced the tournament would return to Canterbury in 1937. Instead of the early July date of the 1932 tournament, the 1937 event would be conducted in late August or early September.
Canterbury prepared for the event by adding seven new tees, as well as fairway watering on holes 10 through 12. Among the amateurs who competed were locals Bob Morrissey of Manikiki Country Club and Wayne Lewis of Pine Ridge Country Club. Morrissey, who shot 84 in his one tournament round, would subsequently join Canterbury, win its Club Championship in 1950, and herald a family membership heritage that includes his son, former club President James Morrissey, and his grandchildren. Lewis, who shot 85 in his one tournament round, also became a Canterbury member winning the 1943 Club Championship. In fact, Canterbury’s Senior Club Championship Trophy is named in his honor. Also competing as an amateur was Olympic gold medal swimmer and Hollywood’s “Tarzan” Johnny Weissmuller who shot 172 to miss the cut by eleven shots.
Another notable amateur competitor was Chick Harbert, a twenty-twoyear old from Battle Creek, Michigan, who set an all-time low seventy-two-hole tournament score of 268 in winning the Michigan Open by eighteen strokes. Harbert, whose golf professional father had named him Chick after renowned Chicago-area golfer Chick Evans, shot 305 for the Western Open finishing as second low amateur three shots behind low amateur Maurice McCarthy of Cincinnati. Local golfer Jim Toth, who shot a first-round 74 and had a seventy-two-hole score of 316, was joined by other amateurs who made the cut including two-time Canterbury Club Champion Eddie Meister Jr. who joined Toth with a tournament score of 316. Tommy Whiteway, who would subsequently become a member of Canterbury and win nine Club Championships and five Northeast Ohio Amateur Championships, returned a seventy-two hole score of 320. Dick Meister, Eddie’s brother, also competed in the event but missed the cut by three shots.
Canterbury President Edward B. Roberts traveled to the U.S. Open at Oakland Hills Country Club in Detroit that June in an attempt to convince some of the leading professionals to compete in the Western Open. He reported receiving commitments from Sam Snead and Ed Dudley. Gene Sarazen, who did not compete in the 1932 Western Open despite capturing the U.S. and British Open titles in the weeks leading up to that event, indicated he would likely play if a tour of the Orient did not materialize. While it was hoped that the 1932 Western Open Champion Walter Hagen would compete, he was touring Africa with Joe Kirkwood. Among other professionals expected to compete in the event was Henry Picard the recent winner of the PGA Hershey Open (conducted at Hershey Country Club where Picard was head pro) who would later become Canterbury’s head professional in 1946.
Ralph Guldahl was scheduled to compete as well as Harry Cooper. Despite having won the 1936 Western Open at Davenport Country Club in Davenport, Iowa, with a final round of 64 for a three-shot victory and having just won the 1937 U.S. Open at Oakland Hills in Detroit setting an Open scoring record of 281, Guldahl was not viewed as the pre-tournament favorite. Instead, the odds established of Guldahl winning the event were set at 8 to 1, odds shared by Sam Snead, Ray Mangrum—runner-up to Guldahl in the 1936 Western Open—Jimmy Thomson, Ky Laffoon, and Paul Runyan. The favorite—at 5-to-1—was “Lighthorse” Harry Cooper to whom Guldahl had finished runner-up in the Canadian Open at the St. Andrew’s Club in Toronto the week prior to the 1937 Western Open at Canterbury. Cooper—who got his nickname “Lighthorse” from famed sportswriter Damon Runyon because of the speed of his playing style in winning the first Los Angeles Open in 1926—was not only coming off a victory in the Canadian Open, he was the leading money winner of the year having amassed over $12,000 in earnings with victories in the Los Angeles, Houston, and St. Petersburg Opens.
Among the local professionals who competed were Canterbury Assistant Professional Waldo Crowder and Billy Burke. Crowder shot 307 for the event, finishing in a tie for twenty-fourth. Burke, the head professional at The
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Country Club in Pepper Pike, won the 1931 U.S. Open at the Inverness Club in Toledo, Ohio. In the 1937 Western Open, Burke shot a tournament score of 302, which tied him for eleventh place.
On his way from competing in the Canadian Open to attend a business meeting in Chicago, Sam Snead got in a practice round at Canterbury with Youngstown resident Bill Carson on September 13. (Carson competed in the 1937 Western Open, shooting a first round of 89 before withdrawing.) After completing his practice round, Snead pronounced the course to be in excellent shape, a testament to the efforts of Canterbury Professional Jack Way. These comments were echoed by up-and-coming PGA Tour star Ben Hogan who
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played a practice round with Crowder. That Jack Way had the course in this sort of shape was little short of miraculous given that the months prior to the tournament presented him with many of the hardest battles in his career. Indeed, early in August, at the climax of a series of cloudbursts, the course was almost completely flooded.
The damage was so heavy that the course had to be closed for play for a day. Several greens appeared to be ruined. Way, a turf expert of the highest order, set to work with his crew and battled to save the fairways and greens through the month of August, which was always the hardest to keep up on the course. Just in time for the tournament, the grass began to perk up, and the indications were that the tournament would be in its normal sparkling condition.
A long-drive competition was held at Canterbury on the day prior to the event’s start. Long-hitting Jimmy Thomson finished runner-up to Sam Snead. Into the teeth of a biting wind, Snead uncorked drives of 261, 278, and 285 yards to outdistance Thomson.
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Fans follow the action at the Western Open
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Despite a cold and heavy wind, firstround leader Sam Snead compiled an opening-round 68 with a four-birdie no-bogey performance. Second to Snead at 2-underpar 70 were Chicagoan Dick Metz making his first start since an auto accident in the spring, and Jimmy Thomson the runner-up to Snead in the pre-tournament long drive competition. Two strokes further back at even-par 72 was Ky Laffoon who followed up a 33 with a 39. Others shooting a first round of even par were Ben Hogan who limped home in 38 after playing the front nine in 34 shots; Paul Runyan who struggled to a back-nine 39 after playing the front nine in 33 shots; and eventual playoff participants Ralph Guldahl and Horton Smith. Smith, from Joplin, Missouri, who was referred to as the “Joplin Ghost,” won the inaugural Augusta National Invitation Tournament in 1934 and again in 1936 (the tournament would be renamed, The Masters Tournament, in 1939).
Despite adding a 74 to his opening-round 68, Snead maintained a one-shot lead at the halfway point. His clubs blew hot and cold on the second day, and he was fortunate to log a 74. After carding a front nine of 39, Snead found additional struggles at Canterbury’s short but challenging par-4 15th hole. There, Snead put his tee shot behind a clump of trees. Attempting to clear those trees, he landed his ball in the rock-strewn ditch at the end of the fairway and at the bottom of the hill leading up to the green. From there, he chipped safely backwards onto the fairway. Although bothered by a water pipe, Snead landed his fourth shot on the green ten feet from the hole and sank his bogey putt. One shot behind Snead at 143 was Smith having gone around Canterbury in 72 and 71 shots. Two shots further back, at 145, were Laffoon and Guldahl. And one shot further back at 146 was Paul Runyan, the short-hitting short-game wizard and World Golf Hall of Fame inductee who won the 1934 and 1938 PGA Championships. Others rounding out the leaderboard were Harry Cooper and
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Jimmy Thomson with 147, Ben Hogan with 149, 1935 U.S. Open winner Sam Parks Jr. at 150, Ray Mangrum at 151, Billy Burke and Waldo Crowder with 152, and Lawson Little with a score of 153.
The final two rounds on Sunday, September 19, were played in lashing cold wind, memorable more of November weather than September. The temperature had dropped ten degrees from the day before, to a cool fifty-eight. Smith and Guldahl tied with identical seventy-two hole, even-par scores of 288. Finishing one shot back were Sam Snead and Paul Runyan. Snead missed a three-foot par putt on the 17th hole, a miss that would later cause him to comment that he’d rather face a rattlesnake than a downhill, two-foot putt at Canterbury. Once again, Canterbury’s 15th hole would bedevil Snead. Three shots further back at 292 was Jimmy Thomson, while Dick Metz would finish a shot further back at 293.
For three hours, with the lead switching back and forth and four thousand onlookers clambering for viewing vantage points, the Guldahl/Smith duel wound down to the final hole and the last putts. Guldahl hit a brilliant chip shot to a foot from the pin, making that putt for par and a seventy-two-hole score of 288. Guldahl’s tournament chances almost ran aground on Canterbury’s 16th hole, a daunting par 5 of six hundred or so yards. Guldahl followed a good drive with a poor second shot that was pulled badly to the left. Behind a hill with a blind uphill shot of 175 yards, Guldahl hit his third much too strong blowing it over the back of the green by twenty-five yards and out of bounds. His replay was far from perfect floating down to the left front of the green, landing on a spectator’s grey felt hat, and bouncing down into a little hollow barely avoiding landing in a bunker. It was the second time in three holes that one of his shots hit a spectator. (On the 14th hole, Guldahl ricocheted his drive off a spectator’s head into a bad lie. From there, he played a perfect recovery barely missing a birdie). From that hollow, he chipped to within fifteen feet, and from there he ran in the putt for a bogey 6.
Guldahl rebounded to knock his next tee shot onto the 17th green almost sinking a long birdie putt and settling for an easy par. He then pulled his 250yard drive on 18 left behind the only tree standing on the hole. From there Guldahl whistled a masterful shot past the tree without touching it. His shot landed on the green, and then ran over it into rough behind the green. Guldahl chipped his ball with a niblick stone dead a foot from the hole. With the gallery whooping, he calmly sank the remaining putt for a par 4 and a tournament total
of 288.
Meanwhile, Smith, having carded a 37 on the front nine, caught fire on the back nine. After making a bogey 5 on the 10th hole, he landed his tee shot on 11 just one foot from the hole for an easy birdie 2. He followed that with birdies at 12 and 13. After making a bogey on 14, he dropped in a ten-foot birdie putt on the 15th. Standing on the 16th tee, Smith needed only par for what would have amounted to a two-shot victory with a tournament total of 286. Unfortunately, Canterbury’s final three holes would not permit that.
Hitting his approach shot over the 16th green, he settled for a bogey 6. After a par 3 on the 17th, Smith was on track for a tournament total of 287. He needed only a par on the last hole to claim tournament victory, but he obliged Guldahl’s out-of-bounds shot on his 16th hole with one of his own, slicing a long drive on the final hole out-of-bounds by a yard. Able to make a bogey 5 off his second drive, Smith settled for a tournament tying score of 288. [Author’s note: At the time of this tournament, the Western Golf Association maintained its own “Rules of Golf” and did not adhere to those of the USGA and R&A. As a result, the penalty for an out-of-bounds shot was counting the out-of-bounds shot and replaying it. It did not include the additional penalty stroke as written in Rule 27-1 of the USGA’s Rules of Golf.]
Paul Runyan stood at 219 after three rounds and was considered out of the running. Eventually firing a fourth-round 70, Runyan needed only an eighteen-foot birdie putt to fall on the final hole for 69 and a place in the playoff but missed by a couple of inches. While Guldahl’s third-round 69 appeared to put him in the driver’s seat, he found himself just one shot ahead of Smith who returned an even-par third-round score of 72 for a fifty-four-hole total of 215.
Snead, enjoying at least a piece of the lead for the first two rounds, slipped to a third round of 75, the result of faulty putting, leaving him at 217.
Having tied at even-par 288 for the tournament, Guldahl and Smith participated in an eighteen-hole playoff on Monday, September 20, starting at 10:00 a.m. Guldahl grabbed the lead with a bogey 5 on Canterbury’s second hole where Smith made a double-bogey 6. After a par 4 on the eighth hole, Guldahl built a six-shot lead over Smith who recorded another double-bogey 6 at the eighth. Smith had lost six shots to Guldahl in Canterbury’s first eight holes. He trimmed Guldahl’s lead to five shots by birdieing the ninth, which Guldahl parred. He then trimmed one more shot off Guldahl’s lead on the back nine
shooting a 1-under-par 35 and recording birdies at the 10th and 12th holes. Meanwhile Guldahl fashioned his second even-par 36 for the day.
Smith’s erratic play that day left him without a serious chance of winning the playoff—he missed the fairway with thirteen of his drives spending much of the round in Canterbury’s rough and bunkers, while Guldahl played from the fairway all day offsetting bogeys at Nos. 2, 10, and 17 with birdies at Nos. 5, 13, and 14. Guldahl captured his second consecutive Western Open title beating Smith by four shots and shooting an even-par 72 to Smith’s 76. Guldahl’s winner’s share was $500 plus 50 percent of the playoff gate, while Smith pocketed $300 as runner-up.
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