James Dodson - Ben Hogan: An American Life

CONTENTS

TO FANS OF THE HAWK

Every man's task is his life preserver.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON

Happiness is a thing of gravity. It seeks for hearts of bronze, and carves itself there slowly; pleasure startles it away by tossing flowers to it. Joy's smile is much more close to tears than it is to laughter.

VICTOR HUGO

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This story simply could not have been told as comprehensively as it is without the valuable assistance of many people.

To begin with, the author wishes to thank Valerie Hogan for being such a diligent archivist of her husband's remarkable playing career. Without her extraordinarily revealing scrapbooks and tireless efforts to preserve his legacy, the intimate portrait contained herein would not have been possible.

I wish to thank Valerie Harriman, her niece and a true daughter of the West, for showing me a Ben Hogan rarely seen, as well as her children, Lisa Scott and Sean Anderson, for their critical assistance in this project. Representing the Hogan estate, Fort Worth attorney Dee Kelly could not have been more supportive and helpful. I am grateful to former Sleeping Bear editor Brian Lewis, who conceived this project and helped convince the Hogan estate that the timing was right for a more comprehensive view of Ben Hogan's life.

Several of Hogan's closest friends were kind enough to go over the manuscript in part or full with a fine-tooth comb, offering vital insights and corrections, and I am deeply indebted to them. They include Gary Laughlin, Rayburn Tucker, Gene Smyers, Marty Leonard, Dan Jenkins, Mike Wright, and Sharon Rea. Dr. William Mallon, former Tour player and U.S. Olympic historian, was invaluable to this project from beginning to end. Former Golf Journal editor and U.S. Open historian Robert Sommers was extraordinarily thorough in his examination of this biography. His dedication and assistance are deeply appreciated by the author.

In addition, there are a number of other people who knew Ben Hogan on a personal or professional basis and contributed wonderful insights and information to this project. Among those who gave generously I especially thank Jackie and Robert Towery, Dr. David Corley Jr., Charissa Christopher, David Corley Sr., W. A. Tex Moncrief Jr., Dr. James Murphy, Ben Fortson, Elizabeth Hudson, Willie Mae Green, Pat Martin, Doxie Williams, Dawn Coleman, Nick Seitz, Barney Adams, Ronnie McGraw, Roger West, Rees Jones, John Griffith, Jules Alexander, Terry Freschette, Jerry Austry, Tom Stewart, David Chapman, Mike Murphy, Jody Vasquez, Wendell Waddle, Bobby Goodyear, and Patricia Robinson.

From Merion Golf Club I wish to thank John Capers, Dick Barush, Irwin Brooks, Scott Nye, and Peter Zimmerman; from Northwood Club, H. Bruss Billingsley; from Riviera Golf Club, Todd Yoshitake; from the Tarrant County Historical Society, Suzy Pritchett; from the Dublin Library, Janella Hendon; also Gene Meone of the Hershey Resort and Greenbrier pro Robert Harris and historian Robert Conte. Senior Minister R. Scott Colglazier of University Christian Church was most helpful.

There are many to thank from the world of golf, beginning with the other members of golf's greatest triumvirate, the late Sam Snead and the ageless Byron Nelson. I wish to thank Sam and Byron both for the generosity of their time and candor of their opinions over many years of conversations. The late Paul Runyan was also an invaluable personal resource, a little man with loads of charm and fabulously clear memories of golf's golden years. The world won't see their kind again anytime soon. Ditto Tommy Bolt, who was kind enough to sit for an afternoon and spin his marvelous tales.

Author Curt Sampson, an old friend and colleague, was generous with both his notes and his insights from his own expedition down the Hogan trail, and I am forever grateful to Herbert Warren Wind for the lunches and conversations we've had over the years regarding the golf world he helped illuminate better than anyone. Ditto CBS broadcast legend John Derr, a man I'm privileged to call a good friend. I am also grateful for the insights of the late Ike Grainger.

A special thanks to Arnold Palmer, Ken Venturi, Harvie Ward, Jack Fleck, Mike Souchak, Jack Burke Jr., and Skee Reigelgentlemen who were extremely kind with their time and insights. Also thanks to Peggy Nelson, Dave Anderson, Ben Crenshaw, Fred Simmons, Tom Kite, Eldridge Miles, Shelley Mayfield, Ernie Vossler, Eddie Vossler, Bill Campbell, Frank Stranahan, Billy Casper, Laird Small, Eddie Merrins, Bob Rosburg, Jerry Pittman, Jim Finegan, Marino Parascenzo, Doc Giffin, Rand Jerris, Nelson Silverio (PGA Tour), Irwin Smallwood, Karen Bednarski, Bob Russell, Chris Doyle, Martin Davis, Ron Mack, Sandy Tatum, Frank Chirkinian, Julius Mason (PGA of America), Johnny Palmer, Tommy Albin, Patrick McDaid, Marty Parkes, Kris Tschetter, Bob Farino, George Peper, Bob Ford, Jim Langley, Lee Pace, Ben Wright, Craig Harmon, Alastair Johnson, Dow Finsterwald, Tom Weiskopf, Donald Steel, Tim Rosaforte, Tim Nehr, Barry Van Gerbig, Mike Towle, Brian Morrison, Jon Sager, David Desmith, Bryan Andrew, George Sine, and Larry Reid.

Finally, I am deeply indebted to Doubleday editor Jason Kaufman for his patience and impressive skill at bringing this tale to life, and to my longtime friend and agent, Virginia Barber of the William Morris Literary Agency, for her tireless work on behalf of this book. I also wish to thank my golf-mad wife, Wendy, who cheerfully put up with her husband living Ben Hogan's life these past three years.

PROLOGUE

Voices of a
Summer Day

Above: Ben Hogan, Winged Foot Golf Club, summer 1959 (Jules Alexander)

S OMEWHERE IN THE middle of the afternoon, Mike Wright glanced up from his pro shop counter and discovered Ben Hogan standing in front of him. Hogan was wearing one of his famous gray sweaters with the thinning elbows, clutching his flat linen golf cap and an old persimmon driver.

Mr. Hogan, he said with surprise. It's great to see you again.

Thank you, Mike, the old man replied quietly. Good to see you too.

It had been months since anyone had seen Hogan around Shady Oaks Country Club, perhaps even the better part of a year. Rumor had it that the club's most distinguished member had rapidly deteriorated since an emergency appendectomy and subsequent surgery for colon cancer. More discouraging to Wright, there were whispers that Hogan's mind had grown so frail, his memory so poor, that his wife, Valerie, no longer trusted him to leave the house even in the company of his full-time caretaker.

During this period of withdrawal, the great man's golf clubs had sat idly in their accustomed place at the back of the club storage room, looked after by Wright, awaiting their owner's return. Inside Hogan's double lockers stood ranks of powders and unguents, the boxed painkillers and salve heat rubs and elastic bandages that spoke of Hogan's long journey through life and golf, his rise from West Texas obscurity to worldwide fame. Extra flat linen capsthe Hogan signatureand his famous English-made golf shoes were there too, spit-polished to perfection, deeply creased by years of trudging fairways.

Would you like me to set up your golf clubs on a cart and get some practice balls for you? Wright proposed, remembering how it wasn't so long ago that you could set your watch by the Hawk's daily arrival from the Ben Hogan Company for lunch with his Shady Oaks friends. Over the years, only the faces gathered around him at the large circular table by the picture window changed slightly; the ritual itself never varied. Back then, when his friends returned to work, Hogan always set out for the little course, the club's par-3 course, or to a spot he favored between the 13th and 14th holes where he could spend hours hitting balls and testing golf equipment by himself. As a rule, Shady Oaks members knew better than to interrupt Hogan during these private interludes, for practicingshaping shots, tinkering with grips and swings, watching balls do precisely what he wanted them to do in the windwas Hogan's first and final love.