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 There is something special about a Muirfield Open. The course is an
architectural masterpiece - a supreme test of golf, rated number one
in the British Isles (2002) and the roll call of champions reflects
the calibre of golf required to succeed there. The East Lothian club
first hosted the event in 1892, when the amateur Harold Hilton from
Royal Liverpool took the Claret Jug. That year the tournament was
extended to 72 holes and there were just 66 entries. A hundred years
later when Nick Faldo won the last Muirfield Open of the twentieth
century and his second at the course, the entries totalled 1666, of
which 156 qualified.
In 1896 Harry Vardon won the second Muirfield Open, the first of his
six victories in the championship and James Braid won the first of
his five there in 1901. The other champions, with just one
exception, were all multiple major winners – the amateur, Harold
Hilton, Ted Ray, Walter Hagen, Henry Cotton, Gary Player, Jack
Nicklaus, Lee Trevino, Tom Watson (another five-time winner) and
Ernie Els who became the fifteenth champion in 2002. In 1935 the
winner was to be the exception – the only Muirfield champion who did
not win at least two major titles.
Walter Hagen had won the previous championship held at Muirfield in
1929, during which he had set the course record of 67, bettering the
first round 69 of Percy Alliss. It was a remarkable score in the
days when 70 was rarely broken. It was the last of his four Opens;
his last major title and it was the scene of another Hagen story
related by Bernard Darwin, which also involved Leo Diegel. The night
before the final days play the Haig was in a late night card game at
the hotel occupied by the American players, the Marine in Gullane –
not there now, it was to become a fire station. At around 3 or 4 am
one of his supporters thought it was time he got some sleep and
remarked that his nearest rival, Diegel, had been in bed for some
hours. “He might be in bed”, replied Hagen, “but he sure-to-God
ain’t sleepin”. That was probably true given Leo’s nervous
disposition. The Haig had said this on at least one previous
occasion and, like other Hagen stories, this particular incident is
recounted in many publications giving various versions of the
wording and different locations, but I think we can rely on Mr
Darwin.
A tremendous gale had come overnight and the following morning
Diegel shot 82 and Hagen had 75, a superb effort in the conditions.
He had another 75 in the afternoon to fulfil the winning scores he
had predicted the previous day. He was a wonderful fashioner of golf
shots to suit the occasion and he was able, in his words, “to use
the ground route”. At the dogleg 8th he had no truck with the
fairway traps and drove right - into the trampled rough, cutting the
corner and leaving a short iron to the green. A birdie was his
reward and he went on to win by six shots. A spinney was soon to be
planted to protect ‘Hagen’s hole’, as some of the locals had called
it.
The Muirfield scene I saw on television as I watched the 2002 Open
seemed light years away from my memories of 1935. The crowds were
much smaller then and there were no stands, no tented village and no
courtesy cars for the players. I was brought to the course from my
boarding house by one of the reps and I changed in the car park, as
did all the professionals. (Not allowed by most clubs now of course)
[Only those players with the title of Mr (or Dr) were admitted to the
clubhouse. A reported incident in July 1972 told us that dining
facilities were still not available to professionals nearly four
decades later. Just before the Muirfield Open a well known Scottish
pro was invited to play there as the guest of a member, but was
obliged to have lunch in the town and rejoin his host on the first
tee for the afternoon round - Victorian and embarrassing!, said
Golf International.]
The fickle weather brought an easterly wind, heavy rain and a
‘Scotch mist’ to test the competitors in the qualifying rounds.
Nowadays the fog would probably have caused play to be delayed, but
we played on with ‘Guides’ stationed at many of the holes. In the
lead at Gullane No 1 was Scottish born American Macdonald Smith, who
had been second to Jones in 1930 (with Leo Diegel) and again to
Sarazen in 1932. He was to be third twice, fourth twice and fifth
once, but was one of the great golfers who never won the title. He
had a 66 and the ‘snow specialist’, Cedric Sayner of Birkdale, was
in second place with a 68. Dick Burton’s 70 at Muirfield led by a
stroke from Henry Cotton and the ‘hitherto unknown to fame Arthur
Lees’, as the Times put it, who shot 71. Arthur, a Yorkshireman from
the Dore and Totley club near Sheffield, was to be one of our
leading players after the war and would play in four Ryder Cups. Joe
Ezar, ‘Showman and buffoon’, entertained the Muirfield galleries
laughing and singing his way round on his way to a 75. He really was
very like Trevino (who was to win at Muirfield in 1972) in behaviour
if not in scoring. He said to the crowd as he came off: “I wasn’t
really trying you know”. Perhaps Joe was a little too ‘devil may
care’ and his amazing skill could have
brought him as much success
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