as Trevino’s did, had he taken it more
seriously. He added a 73 to be five inside the 153 qualifying mark.
I qualified on the same mark as my brother Jack, on leave from his
club, Tolygunge (Royal Calcutta), and Alfred Perry. We got in with a
stroke to spare and Joe,
 Alf and I went on to join the sixty-two
players who made the cut, but Jack missed out, as did another
competitor who could have entered the record books in this
championship. He was an unnamed Scottish pro, who started 7,10,5,10
and reached the turn in 65. Another 10 followed at the 11th, and the
record for the highest score in an Open was on the cards, but he
retired on the twelfth after taking four shots in a bunker. His
chance of (dubious) fame was lost, but mine was still on course
after an opening 72.
After Henry’s inspirational performance the previous year and his
form in practise, there was a mood of confidence in the British camp
and he was a hot favourite to retain the title. He was leading
qualifier, with Dick Burton on 141, and he started well with a 68 -
a record for the altered course, but he had an indifferent week on
the greens and on the final day he drifted out of contention. I had
gone out in 32 in the morning and had played fairly steadily after
that to be level with Henry on 218. We were seven behind the leader,
Alf Perry, who had broken Cotton’s new course record with a 67 in
the morning round, matching the score of Hagen over the 1929 course.
(As I have said, scores under 70 were by no means common in those
days, but Perry’s 60 on his ‘own green’ at Leatherhead was rare
indeed!). Like the Haig Alf had an unorthodox swing and was known as
‘Slasher’ Perry, due to his flailing action. Allied to a
four-knuckle grip and a very wide stance, it was a combination which
seemed unlikely to succeed, but he had wonderful timing and was full
of confidence, hitting woods out of bunkers “as if he was in a
weekend knockabout”, as one writer put it. Peter Lawless, a well
known journalist of those days, had this to say about Alf’s swing:
“The right hand is carried far under the club, with the knuckles
pointing to the ground, and slides round the shaft as the left hand
swings the club back. Excellent footwork is the foundation of a
‘round-the-corner’ swing basically sound but marked with
idiosyncrasies. From address to follow-through he is extremely
mobile and hits the ball with rare fluency. Courage he has in
plenty, hesitating never and going all out for the biggest carries
and trying always to hole his first putt.”
A stroke behind in second place was Dunlop Southport champion and
England’s Captain in the International match - Charles Whitcombe,
the middle of the three golfing brothers (who would even outdo Perry
with a 59 on his home course of Crews Hill). Alf Padgham was lying
third on 216. In the final round that afternoon Perry took a
double-bogey six on the first hole and the door was opened a little.
Whitcombe was on the way to a 76 and lost his chance of an Open
title, meanwhile I was playing well. The par at Muirfield is 71
(bogey in those days), but we counted our score in relation to fours
and standing on the 14th tee I was four under fours and in with a
chance - if the leaders were to falter. “Of the possibles”, said the
Golf Illustrated reporter, “Bert Gadd came as near as any to
surprising everyone”. The Times said that Gadd “seemed to have
Whitcombe in the palm of his hand for out of the first 13 holes he
had 10 fours, two threes and a two”. I made my two on the famous
13th, regarded by Tom Watson as the best par-3 in the world, but I
then found bunkers at 14 and 15 and dropped two shots putting me
back to two under. A par three at the 16th, which caused so much
grief to Ernie Els, got one shot back against fours, but a bad break
at the par-5 17th was to put paid to any chance I had. I thought I
had got up with two good wood shots, but I could not see my ball
when I arrived at the green. My brother George, who was standing by
the green, told me what had happened. The pin was towards the back
close to a bunker on the left and my ball had rolled to the very
edge of the bunker, toppled over the lip and landed in a “cruel heel
mark”, as Golf Illustrated described it. Someone had climbed out of
the bunker and not repaired the damage. It could not happen now of
course, but there were no bunker rakers on duty in those days. Had
the ball rolled back down the slope of the bunker, George told me,
it would have been close to the hole – and a possible eagle. I had
yet to obtain a Sarazen ‘blaster’ but it would probably have made no
difference; I doubt if any man born could get out of a lie like
that, or even Gary Player who was born later that year. After two
shots in the bunker, I got down in six and was back to one under
fours. My 71 was the second best score of the round. Other 71s were
handed in by Alf Perry’s playing partner - Syd Easterbrook, Auguste
Boyer, Laurie Ayton senior of my future club South Shields, Jack
Jacobs of Lindrick (cousin of John ‘Dr Golf’ Jacobs) and Alf
Padgham, who totalled 287 to pip Whitcombe to second place.
Most of the field scored in the high 70s and low eighties in a
testing wind, but nothing like that dreadful Saturday of 2002.
Whitcombe finished third on 288 and I was a shot behind him in a
share of fourth with the amateur Lawson Little, whose 69 was the
best of the day. The famous American was a big powerful player and
had excited reporters by opening at Muirfield with a 380-yard drive
down wind, although it did him no good as
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