“Granny,” as some friends called him, was a widely syndicated scribe who, in 1924, almost single-handedly put Notre Dame football and Knute Rockne on the map by typing the most famous first sentence in the history of sports: “Outlined against a blue, gray October sky, the Four Horseman rode again.” It was no small bit of genius on the part of Jones and Augusta National co-founder Clifford Roberts to schedule the inaugural tournament during a time when many leading writers would be returning home from spring training, almost certainly by train and almost certainly through Georgia.Įven today, of course, the Masters isn’t the championship of anything - it’s a private club’s invitational tournament, which was clearly Jones’ intention all along. The golden age of American sports was waning by 1934, but the Golden Age of Sportswriting, led by Rice, was still going gangbusters. the world? Jones saw the benefit of playing along, and it helped make the Masters the mythical tourney it is today. He wanted to play in the tournament, but he also knew he had to play and play along with a narrative not of his own making, namely that he had issued invitations to the world’s best players to come to his course and his tournament to see if they could defeat the man Grantland Rice and others sometimes referred to as the Emperor - Bob Jones his own self.īobby vs. As co-creator of the Augusta National Golf Club and co-designer of its course, he was also the host of the first Masters, a job he took seriously. It can be argued with some merit to this day that he is the greatest player in history. He retired from competition at age 28, with no realm left to conquer. He was the winner of the Grand Slam in 1930 and nine other major titles dating back to 1923, a quarter-finalist in the U.S. One was Babe Ruth, who, at that moment, was playing Grapefruit League ball, preparing for his final season as a Yankee.Īt 10:35, the other megastar of the era’s sporting scene would step onto Augusta’s first tee and into the arena for the first time in four years. at the time could have inspired more than a few hundred people to turn out at Augusta National. Instead, as the opening round was being played in Georgia, Goodman shot 70 in a spring outing of members at the Field Club of Omaha. Open, stayed home in Nebraska, likely because he didn’t care to make the trip to Augusta or couldn’t afford it. Goodman, who today remains the last amateur to win the U.S. The week of the Masters, Sarazen departed for a global exhibition tour. Not so Gene Sarazen, who would have added juice to the star power of the invitee list, nor reigning U.S. Walter Hagen was a draw, of course, and he was there at age 41. An eight-day pass (including four days of practice rounds and other events, such as a long drive contest) went for $5.50 - that kind of dough could buy a lot of food at a time when people were so busted and spirits were so broken that some citizens cheered on the criminal and occasionally violent antics of Bonnie Parker, Clyde Barrow and John Dillinger, all three of whom literally bit the bullet the same year.Īugusta, Ga., had a population of about 60,000 in 1934, and not too many folks were going to travel from Atlanta and pay to see the likes of Paul Runyan and Horton Smith, even if they were very fine golfers. Spectators did not turn out by the tens of thousands. economy was just starting to creep back from rock bottom during the Great Depression, but it still had a long way to go. However, in 1934, the tournament was no shoo-in to reach its current exalted status, let alone be considered the fourth major championship of golf’s modern era. The two relatively unknown professionals hadn’t merely pushed the start button on what would become golf’s annual rebirth and legend factory, they had triggered a 35-minute countdown to the competitive return of the self-exiled ruler of the golf world.Įleven years from your reading of this, the Masters will celebrate its 100th birthday (if not its 100th playing). Once Stonehouse, playing out of Indianapolis, and Kinder, out of Asbury Park, N.J., put the lash to it at 10 a.m., the first Masters Tournament was underway. When Ralph Stonehouse and Johnny Kinder stood on the tee of what is now the 10th hole at Augusta National on Thursday, March 22, 1934, the most interested onlookers were likely perched upon nearby tree branches, chittering about spring.
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