Sport: The New Captain

The New Captain Before a hushed audience of a thousand or more attentive golfers, Francis Ouimet stepped soberly up to the first tee of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club at St. Andrews, Scotland. It was early for a round: not yet 8 o’clock. But Ouimet was not going to play even once around: all he intended to do was to hit this one ceremonial drive. Scotland’s Willie Auchter-lonie, who won the British Open in 1893, teed up the ball. The town clock tolled eight as Ouimet took his stance. Strung out in front of the tee, at various flattering—and unflattering—distances, were the St. Andrews caddies.

Ouimet smacked the ball crisply, 170 yards straight down the fairway, and an antique cannon beside the tee boomed a salute. It was the traditional “driving in” ceremony, performed each year—but not always so well—by the elected Captain of the Royal and Ancient, golf’s oldest and holiest shrine. Francis Ouimet, onetime caddy from the wrong side of Boston’s tracks, was the first American ever elected captain.

A $5 Gold Piece. Ouimet’s drive was retrieved by one of the more flatteringly distant caddies, who pounced on the ball and brought it back for the traditional reward: a gold sovereign (which in recent years has been specially struck by the Royal Mint for the R. & A.). Instead of the sovereign, Ouimet gave the caddy an old $5 gold piece.

Everybody agreed that picking Francis Ouimet (pronounced we met) for this rare honor was a happy choice and a nice gesture. Ouimet has been a name in transatlantic golf ever since the day in 1913 when, as a 20-year-old, he whipped Britain’s peerless pair, Harry Vardon (by five strokes) and Ted Ray (by six), in a playoff for the U.S. Open title. Since then, as a player or the non-playing captain of every U.S. Walker Cup team until 1949, Ouimet has won an unequaled place in the hearts of R. & A. members, surpassing even Bobby Jones.

“Golf, Futball, Schuting.” As captain (i.e., president) of the R. & A., Ouimet occupies a purely honorary post, serves as custodian, for a year, of the St. Andrews cross: two silver clubs joined together. But he joins a tradition almost as old as golf itself. Historians estimate that the natives of St. Andrews first began to use the links,* bounded by St. Andrews Bay and the estuary of the Eden River, around 1100. It was a natural golf course, and only nature has been allowed to change its contours. No man-made traps or bunkers have ever been permitted.

The Old Course, stretching like a shepherd’s crook across the dunes, still belongs to the villagers of St. Andrews—and they have the papers to prove it. In 1552, a parchment provided that the Archbishop of Hamilton might raise rabbits there if he also allowed the townspeople to continue their “golf, futball, schuting . . .” In the late 18th Century the town lost title to the land, but bought it back (for £5,000) in 1894. To this day, anyone with the price of the greens fee (three shillings and sixpence—about 50¢) can play at St. Andrews.

A Medal from the Queen. But not everyone can become a member of the R. & A., much less become its captain. In 1754, “twenty-two noblemen and gentlemen” formed the club and drew up the first working rules of the game—still, basically, in effect. The club did not get its royal sanction until 1836, when King William IV, after being badgered by a certain Major Murray Belshes of Buttergash, finally consented to the club’s taking the name “Royal and Ancient,” and gave the club a gold medal which became the prize for the annual autumn tournament. Two years later Queen Adelaide became the patroness of St. Andrews (she was already the Duchess of St. Andrews), and gave the club another medal, a silver one, for the captain.

Last week, wearing the Queen Adelaide medal around his neck, and dressed in the traditional red coat of the captaincy, Boston’s Francis Ouimet presided over the annual club dinner. Before him, hanging from the St. Andrews cross, were silver facsimiles of the golf balls “driven in” by former captains. Following the toasts and speeches, the members reverently filed past and kissed the silver golf balls, symbol of the Royal and Ancient’s venerable station as the father of golf.

*Old hands among the caddies (several are in their 70s) still recall the day in 1922 when the Prince of Wales “drove in” as captain. He topped his drive, it dribbled off the tee, and a golf historian has recorded that several of the caddies, anticipating such a dub, “stood disloyally close to the tee.” *Or linksland, originally meaning sandy soil.