Tony Lema
“Tony Lema,” I said to Angus Mars, head of the caddie committee for the St. Paul Open in 1965. It was a big decision, after finishing second in the annual caddie ticket selling contest, which determined the order of the caddies selecting players for the tournament. The 1965 edition of the St. Paul Open had the “strongest field in 30 years,” according to the press. Headlining the event were Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, Tony Lema and Billy Casper, the top 4 money winners on tour.
I’m not sure why they all showed up this particular year, maybe because the purse had been increased to $100,000 which made it one of the 6 richest on tour. As Phil Rogers said, “When you get big money you get big golfers.” Also, the date had been moved up to June 24-27, away from the British Open, where it had been for several years. For whatever reason, it was exciting to have the great players in St. Paul.
“You took Tony Lema?”, Homer Martinson inquired when I returned to the club late Monday afternoon.
“Well, my idol Arnold was taken first,” I said. Great players like Sam Snead, Gene Littler, and Billy Casper were in the field. In addition, Kel Nagle, whom I had caddied for in 1964 was entered but at Bellerive in St. Louis in a Monday playoff for the US Open. I was concern about his withdrawal. However, the decision came down to Jack Nicklaus or Tony.
Between 1962 until his death in 1966, Tony Lema won 12 times on tour, finished second 11 times and third three times. In that period of time, Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer each won 13 times, while Gary Player won six times. Lema did not miss a cut in those four years. He finished in the top ten in 50% of the tournaments he entered. In addition, he had won two weeks previously at the Buick Open. He won the British Open in 1964 and finished in the top ten in eight of the 15 majors he which he played. He was on his game. Had he not been killed in 1966, history might have been written about the big four, Palmer, Player, Nicklaus and Lema, not just the big three.
My decision was made on the personality. “Champagne” Tony Lema was extremely popular and had a big personality. He got his nickname when he brought champagne to the press tent after his win at the Orange County PGA event in 1962. On the other hand, “fat” Jack Nicklaus was not particularly popular, as he was considered a chief rival to Arnold Palmer, the biggest name in the game. This was not fair and probably similar to the Mickey Mantle-Roger Maris media-driven rivalry. Mickey was the darling of baseball while the more reserved Maris went about his business at being a great home run hitter.
So it was with Arnold and Jack. I was in the locker room on Saturday afternoon of the tournament and watched Arnold, Jack and Tony chatting, laughing and having a good time. They were laughing as Jack had just received a new pair of Foot Joy shoes, bent them backward and was sitting on one to stretch out the last. To this day, I have never seen or heard of anyone doing that to stretch shoes, but Jack did. They looked like good friends to me.
Tony Lema was standing next to his opened trunk as I approached and introduced myself on Tuesday morning after his drive from St. Louis on Monday. He was about 6’ tall, 31 years old, fit and smartly dressed. He was handsome.
Oh, but what was emerging out of the passenger side door?
“Cal, this is my wife Betty,” he said.
“Betty, nice to meet you,” I said. Betty was 28, drop dead gorgeous, with auburn hair and blue eyes. There were not ladies like Betty at the Wayzata Country Club. The figure, the clothes, the makeup. Wow! Betty must have made Tony’s drive from tournament to tournament very pleasant!
In fact, Tony’s career changed after he got married to Betty. Known as a big partier and skirt chaser when he first got on tour in 1959, his career was marginal until 1962 and his marriage. Betty had been very good for Tony.
Tony & Betty Lema
He was cordial as we headed for the practice tee. “You look like a good man. We’re going to do some good this week,” he commented as we walked, me carrying his big leather tour bag over one shoulder with the shag bag in the other hand.
It was an arduous, inconvenient walk to the far side of the first fairway at Keller, down the sloping fairway, and up a steep slope to the practice tee. Comparing Keller’s practice tee to today’s tour practice grounds is like comparing a model T Ford to a new Mustang. They are both cars but the comparison ends there. Uneven ground, weeds, dirt, little good grass, certainly with no irrigation.
None the less, the players worked on their games and readied for the event on this patch of ground called the practice tee. It did not seem to bother Tony. In all the years I shagged balls for tour players, Tony was the best ball striker I saw. Tony made shagging easy.
With many players, it was a track meet, madly chasing down wild shots left and right, dodging balls from every direction. With Tony I simply stood in back of the bag and with every club, took a step to the left or a step to the right, caught the ball on one bounce and dropped it into the bag. He hit high soft shots. Easy as pie.
This would be a good week, I thought. Tony was a spectacular ball striker. I knew I would not be spending endless hours chasing down bad shots at the practice tee, after a poor round. It was no accident that Tony Lema had finished in the top five on the money list for the previous three years and had not missed a cut in that time. Johnny Miller would say later of Lema, “he had an elegant swing of rare beauty.” Tony Lema was the best player I would ever caddie for.
Pro-am day, Wednesday arrived bright and sunny as I drove across town in my green 1953 Plymouth Belvedere for our 1:04 starting time. The course had been lengthened to 6,700 yards which was a comfortable length for most tour players. Tony played a very easy round of 68 as I gathered yardages and helped his amateur partners with club selection and reading greens. Although his team would not win, amateur partner Sol Kronick would tell me after the round he had a great time with Tony and was a big fan. Tony was a good pairing for a pro am.
Thursday is the best day of the tournament. All the preparation, anticipation, and anxiety come to a head on Thursday. “On the tee from San Francisco, California, Tony Lema,” the starter announced at 12:32 on a breezy Thursday afternoon. He was paired with Bob Rosberg, (Mr. Crabby), and Dave Ragan, a good journeyman professional.
It would be a long 2 days listening to the complaining and whining from Bob Rosberg. Born into a well-to-do family and carrying a Stanford degree, somehow Bob Rosberg never felt he had anything good happen to him, particularly on the golf course.
Standing on the fourth tee, a slightly downhill par three Tony asked, “What have we got here?”
“148 to the hole, downwind,” I responded.
With that he pulled an 8 iron and hit a beautiful shot….right over the green.
“You got a bad number,” he said, clearly irritated.
I was shocked at what happened. I stepped all yardages on Tuesday, rechecked them Wednesday and had checked hole locations early on Thursday. How could I have gotten it wrong?
This was a huge problem. If in fact I was wrong, he would lose confidence in my numbers and I would simply be carrying his bag for the rest of the tournament.
I had to find out if I was wrong. With Tony stepping out in front of me fuming as he walked down the slight hill, I followed rechecking the yardage.
148, right on the number.
“Mr. Lema, I rechecked my number and I was right on,” I said to him walking to the next tee, after he made a bogey four. I don’t know if he caught a bit of wind, hit it particularly flush or misjudged the downhill, but it ended in a spot where he could not make a par. I don't know if talking to him was the right thing to do, but I did it and he seemed to get over it.
It was a frustrating round of 70. Good ball striking but never enough putts going in.
I was optimistic as he teed off at 8:16 Friday morning, but it was again not to be the great round he was so capable of having. Beautiful shots, average putts. As we walked to the eighth, a downhill dogleg right par four, I took out the three wood and offered it to him. He had hit the three wood on Thursday and the two practice rounds.
“Put that back. I’ll pull the clubs,” he snapped. Whoa, that got my attention.
Maybe the bad putting was getting to him. Maybe Bob Rosberg was getting the best of him. Maybe he just thought I was not a very good caddie. Whatever it was he did not play any better the rest of the round. With Rosberg whining all the way to his 74, Tony ended with another 70 and a two round total of 140 in 27th place.
Saturday awakened to overcast skies and threatening conditions. By the third hole it was raining. I was almost hoping that it would rain because, as part of his lore, he wore a bucket hat in the rain. While common today, the hat was called the “Tony Lema Rain Hat”. Out of the bag it came when it started to rain. Tan in color, it was just a simple bucket hat, but different than other styles of the 60’s.
I had read about the hat. Like the hats or caps that Payne Stewart and Ben Hogan wore or Ricky Fowler wears today, it was part of his persona. But this hat only came out in the rain.
It’s never easy to caddy in the rain in a tournament. It’s the caddie’s responsibility to do everything to keep the player and his equipment dry. There are towels, an umbrella, maybe a bag cover and dry gloves.
As we walked to the 12th tee it was raining pretty hard. I had pulled the driver out on the long par 4 and was waiting for him to take it from me. For some reason, that to this day I cannot comprehend, I was keeping the head of the club dry with the grip out in the rain. Just a complete brain freeze.
“What are you doing? Get that grip under the umbrella!” he said as sternly as he could under the circumstances. I quickly realized what I had done and corrected the situation, drying the grip. However, the mistake hung over me the rest of the day, like the dark cloud that was over us. I felt stupid, embarrassed and simply terrible. I was very upset at what I had done and how strongly he had spoken to me.
Tony shortly realized that I was not in a good place over the incident. I did not want to have him distracted because of me and not focused on the round. After what I had done, I could not be the cause of him dropping a shot. As bad as I felt I needed to keep a positive face on the round and did so.
“You’re doing a good job, don’t worry about it,” he said as we walked off the tee. I think he felt bad about the tone he used with me. The rain, the towels, the umbrella, struggling with the clubs were tough. He probably realized that.
After the round we walked down the stairs of the 1920’s clubhouse into the locker room. No fancy wood lockers with beautiful classic walnut card tables and chairs here. Just the old green metal lockers with the metal mesh doors at Keller. I dried the clubs and the balance of his equipment the best I could. He had shot 71 on a tough day, a competitive but not a great score.
“You’re doing a good job,” he repeated to me. It made me feel better, but it could not heal the self-imposed scar from the incident.
On a windy Sunday, where any score under 70 meant a big move up the leader board, Tony finished with a one over par 72, to only tread water. Paired with long hitting Paul Bondeson and Tom Shaw, he finished 14 shots behind winner Ray Floyd. He made $875 from his 22nd place finish. Jack Nicklaus finished 5th, with Palmer 7th.
It was a thrilling but disappointing week for me. I caddied for one of the best players in the world when he was at the top of his game. I had not done a good job for him and he had not played the way he would have liked.
One year later he died along with his wonderful wife, Betty, and two pilots in a plane crash on the north side of Chicago. It was a Monday and he was coming in to play an exhibition from Akron after the PGA. The plane reportedly ran out of gas and crashed into a lake on a golf course, 1 mile short of the air field.
It snuffed out the life of an extremely talented player, who was loved by the fans and on the fast track to being one of the great players in history. As with the death of Payne Stewart, Tony Lema’s death was a great loss to the game. His success was only beginning. How many tournaments might he have won?
Caddying for Tony Lema was an honor and one of the most memorable weeks in A Life of Golf.
