Augusta, Atlanta, Bisher, and Bobby

Most days, it is hard for me to think of myself as anything other than a young man. Only when I have the pleasure of convening with NewClub members born in the 1990s, am I reminded that I am blessed with perspective. As I came of age in the ‘90s stories were commonly conveyed in print, and most prominently consumed from newspapers. I started the habit, since broken, of reading at least one hard copy newspaper every day. My hometown paper, the Tallahassee Democrat, carried a humor columnist by the name of Lewis Grizzard, by way of the wire services and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Grizzard continues to inspire me for his ability to make Raisin Bran fly from my dad’s mouth across the entire kitchen, a distance of some 20 feet.

Furman Bisher, 1918-2012

It was in a Lewis Grizzard book that I first read the name of Furman Bisher, whose column for the Atlanta Journal Grizzard called a “daily treasure.” According to Grizzard, “words from other writers marched drone-like. Furman’s dance.” He was right. Furman Bisher also wrote extensively for the Saturday Evening Post and became revered for his nuanced interview style and knack for capturing people behind their personae. That allowed him to compile an unparalleled list of subjects, particularly in baseball–including “Shoeless” Joe Jackson, Ty Cobb, Ted Williams, and Hank Aaron–and in golf–Jack Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer, Eugenio Saraceni (aka Gene Sarazen), Sam Snead, Ben Hogan, and Bobby Jones. His book about Hank Aaron was typical, discussing all aspects of the humble Aaron and his chase to break Babe Ruth’s record of 714 home runs, but ending the season before Hank hit his 715th.

Furman Bisher loved the Masters as much as Bobby Jones and Cliff Roberts. He covered every tournament from 1950 until 2011. The cover of his last book bears witness to his passion for posterity. As he did with Aaron’s story, Bisher’s writings on Jones leave out the highlight reel for the most part, perhaps because he assumes all Atlanta Journal-Constitution readers knew it, and because those major elements cast too much shade upon important details.

Bobby Jones, 1921

For those without the details of Bobby Jones’ career, he founded the golf team at Georgia Tech, where he earned a degree in mechanical engineering in 1922. In 1923 he won the US Open. In 1924 he earned a second undergraduate degree in English literature from Harvard. Somehow he had time to train for and win the US Amateur Championship again in 1925. Jones won a second US Open in 1926, and also the British Open that same summer. Taking time off to study at Emory Law School back in Atlanta, he passed the bar in 1927. Oh, and he defended his British Open title that year and picked up another US Amateur title. After starting practice in his father’s law firm, he “only” found time to defend his US Amateur title in 1928, and won the US Open again in 1929. Saving the best year as his last in competitive golf, Bobby Jones won the British and US Amateurs as well as the British and US Opens in 1930: the first and only golfer to win the traditional Grand Slam. After that, Jones effectively retired from competitive golf, choosing to concentrate on practicing law, lending his expertise to golf course projects, and playing golf as an active hobby. His allegorical honesty, intelligence, and focus were integral elements to all of these activities. His efforts created and left lasting institutions: the Masters Tournament, Alston & Bird LLP, and golf courses at Augusta National, Atlanta Athletic Club, Peachtree Golf Club, and–our own muni–Bobby Jones Golf Course.

Like Hank Aaron, Bobby Jones had been the most significant Atlanta sports figure of his time. It’s hard to imagine their accomplishments being topped. As prominent Atlanta citizens, they can only be bested in terms of impact by the great Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. More than 30 years after Jones’ death, Bisher wrote that “[h]ardly an angle of Bobby Jones’s life has been overlooked by historians plumbing his career in golf, his personal celebrity, and his role in creating the Masters Tournament. […] In all the historical pursuits of Jones’s emergence, his boyhood is generally overlooked.” Furman focused instead on Jones’ humanity; his childhood frailty, his relationship with his neighbors, his relationship with his father, the death of a friend, and his disability and atrophy as an adult. In so doing, he paints a portrait of Bobby Jones as much as an old Atlanta neighbor as one of its pillars.

The author with fellow NewClub members at Sweetens Cove.

As with all neighbors, breaking through their image requires consideration of who they actually were; for all their faults and fortés. Of Jones’ faults, only stories of his short temper are explicit. The rest is silence. We can assume more based on attitudes typical of men of Jones’ generation, position, and geographical origin; or the exclusivity of the clubs and courses he established. Nuance dies in the face of assumption though, and Jones was atypical if nothing else.

Most importantly, Bisher makes clear that Bobby Jones was both the product of and woven into a community committed to his success. If his parents hadn’t had access to medical care, he might have died in childhood, like his elder brother. If it hadn’t been for encouraging neighbors, he might never have picked up a club. If he hadn’t access to green spaces, he might never have had the opportunity to learn golf. If Jones’ dad and Perry Adair’s dad hadn’t taken turns driving their kids to tournaments across the region, he might never have played competitively. He certainly wouldn’t have become a legend without his community.

I think often about these great Atlantans, in our game and in others. As Atlanta golfers, all we can do is carry that community forward. As NewClub members, we are each committed to community and inclusivity—among other core values—during a sea change in our promising game. While we revere golf’s history it’s a game for the living, and it must be focused on the future. The game is best played in the moment, executing each shot in its turn, building each one off the last. What will we do with our shot?