Judge — July 28, 1923 — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

©Keystone The Essex County Golf Club at Manchester, Mass. TOLD AT THE 19th HOLE by Walter Trumbull HERE is that about his swing Which dark recollections bring Of a cramp; Yet, we truthfu He's a man w He will lift his head, it’s true, And does not know what to do With his feet; ly can say d rather play Wire cool shade stretches toward the tee We fain would sit and rest If it were not within that tree That hornets build their nest. We'd like to stay and fuss around The cool and winding stream, But there mosquito hawks abound— In millions it would seem. But we play him when we can, For he is the only man We can beat. : « SLICE into the flowe y grass Before us in the July sun Our favorite golf course lies: To play around it would be fun— But, oh, my lord! the flies! * And stand to muse awhile; * * * No flower which grows there is, my lass, As sweet as is your smile. Thus with your charms I am engaged And I would tell you more nr Were I not startled by Rude bellowings of * * * EY hav strains of mus It is queer that they never have tried this in golf. found in the moving pictures that their actors play better to. the There was a man on our course Who made a fair amount Of golf scores which were very lov— Because he couldn't count. + * + It wasn’t that we lost the match, But what we thought was tough Was when he got his niblick out And holed one from the rough. GOLF AS A CURE FOR NERVOUSNESS “How about playing around with me this morning, Miss Millicent? ming, and I don't dive at all, but I'm a fair demon at heaping sand!” I'm not much at swim- HEN lying on the fairway smooth, A short pitch from the green, With no deep band of gripping sand Or tall grass in between, Most any sort of golfing man, Who'll mind his hands and head, Can toss one up beside the cup, Can pitch and lay one dea But he who has the fighter’s heart, ‘The man who * 7 Is he who'll grin and set his chin And play dead from the rough. * + + joes his stuf This, “I used to play a good game’ stuff doesn’t mean anything. It isn’t what you used to make—it’s what you make to-day. + * * Our idea of the perfect optimist is the woman who, when asked how she was going, said she was “only thirty-six over 4's.” + * & W: HAVE read a great deal about mental hazards. ‘The theory — is that you can not do a thing at’ golf because you visualize yourself as ing. There is a whole lot in The soothing music of a violin might straighten out a jerky swing. A long note from the trombone might result in a long brassie shot. Those in the rough might be comforted and calmed by the music of a harp. A putt could be 4 companied by roll of the snare drum, with a thump of the bass drum and a clash of cym- bals as the ball dropped into the cup. And then there is the skirl of the bagpipes. Surely they should be good for golf. the ns | this. We always have figured that the only thing which prevented us from walloping some of these stars the mental ard. Ti we will, we have never been quite able to visualize ourselves as trimming Walter Hagen. But now we think it has been our system which was at fault. So we have de- cided to give up golf lessons for lessons in mind control, As soon $104. TREATMENT TO DATE, $2,574 And then he has to join the merry gang at the 19th hole—$104. A fellow-member of the club confidentially introduces him to the official club bootleg- ger, And on opening his locker next day he finds a case of Scotch and bill. 10 as we finish the new course some of the birds and birdies had better look out. And they can’t. say we didn’t warn them. comicbooks.com