BOLT from the PAST : Flashes of an Open champion, 43 years after Southern Hills

Golf Digest, June, 2001 by Tom Callahan

A lesson in 'serenity'

The 22-year-old runner-up, Gary Player, seems to remember: "Some minister had told him something about 'serenity.' I wish I could have gotten my hands on whoever it was." That would be Bishop Fulton J. Sheen.

Playing with Hogan for the first time--playing in the U.S. Open for the first time--Player started with a 75. So did Ben, who would tie for 10th. All of the other golfers in the field, except Bolt, would have at least a 75 before they were through.

"Son, you're going to be a great player someday," Hogan told the young South African as they dressed in the locker room. "How much do you practice?"

Player replied at his usual length, staring into Hogan's stare and finally understanding why they called him "the Hawk."

When Player finished recounting his many hours in the salt mines, Hogan tersely said, "Double it," and walked away.

Bolt's one-stroke lead after 36 holes puffed to three in the first of the Saturday rounds as Gene Littler (three years away from his own Open triumph) joined Player and Boros in pursuit.

"I just kept leaving those flags in," Tommy says. "Remember, you were still allowed to putt at the sticks in those days. Those little old flimsy sticks couldn't keep the ball out and they helped you draw a straighter line."

As Bolt rolled on, printing presses dashed off heat advisories, among other human-interest stories, on topics as varied as:

* "Richard Thomas was the only Negro competitor. Eleven years ago he caddied for Sam Snead in an exhibition at Annapolis. He's an elementary school teacher now near Annapolis. He scored 76-82--158, four higher than the cutoff";

* "At the fourth hole, a nest of baby rabbits was staked off by the USGA and the contestants were permitted to lift the ball, if within this area, to protect the babies";

* And: "Pro wrestler Danny Savich was an everyday visitor, usually with Dutch Harrison. For the last round, Savich wore Bermuda shorts."

Bolt's last round was a medley of his specialties, long irons too solid to be long irons and fairway woods too straight to be fairway woods. At the 465-yard 12th, the hardest par 4 almost anyone had ever played, Tommy hit a 3-iron out of the rough and parred the hole for the first time all week. His other three scores were birdies.

"The son of a bitch played 12 in three under," muttered Dutch Harrison in the locker room, staggering around in a kind of delirium, trailed by an exhausted wrestler in Bermuda shorts.

A 4-wood to 20 feet at 15. A 3-wood to 25 feet at 16. Tommy was at peace. "All I had to do then was hold on to the golf club," he says. At the 468-yard 18th, without shedding a drop of sweat (most of the field looked like revolving lawn sprinklers), Bolt hit a good drive and a final 4-wood, putted it four feet by and made the par coming back. "The funny thing is," he says, "I can't remember now how it felt taking the ball out of the cup. I know it was good, but I just can't bring the feeling back."

He remembers the look on the face of his caddie, an American Indian boy of 15, who tendered not one word of advice all week long, per their agreement, but just wiped the clubs and smiled. Tommy remembers giving the boy $500. But he doesn't remember the feeling.