Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1954-12-10
The TumuIt and the Shouting
Jones Conquers His Temper
And Appetite in Climb to Top

And Appetite i
This is the ninth OF "a ar
ticles from Grantlahd Rice's
autobiography, "The Tun,ult
and the Shouting.")
By GrontIond Rice
I've known Bob Jones since
he was a 3-year-old. He's
the son of a good friend of
mine, Bob Jones, sr., a fine
lawyer in Atlanta. I played
baseball against his father while
he was at Mercer and I was at
Vanderbilt.
When Bobby was S he started
swinging a golf club. His FAM
lily lived just off the 18th fair
way at Atlanta's East Lake
course. At the age of 7, he was
swinging a midiron with better
form than the average club
champ.
Who started him? Himself.
But the fellow he often pestered
was the club professional, Stew
art Maiden. Bobby would watch
Maiden impart his wisdom to a
pupil, then go off to one side
and practice. The boy had a
large head on a smallish body
and the head served as perfect
anchor for those shots that later
would flow so flawlessly from
his clubhead. AS a result. by
the time the kid was IL. he had
hung up 10 at East Lake. He
had grown from a rather sickly
looking kid into a chunky,
broad shouldered youth with
thick, powerful wrists and big,
strong hands. At II he could
drive $40 or $50 yards.
Battle of Tempers.
When Jones arrived at Phila-
delphia's Merton Golf Club for
his first crack at the Amateur
title in 1916, he was 14!2 years
old. I was then SO and writing
my column for the New York
Tribune syndicate, having left
the New York Mail in 1913 at
the invitation of Mr.. Ogden
Reds offer of $3.50 a week.
Bob and I had breakfast to-
gether the morning of his first
match round. Having qualified
the previous day with a miser-
able 90, was to meet Eben Byers,
a very sound golfer and Amateur
champion in 1906-10 years ear
lier. Byers, also hot tempered,
wasn't averse to wrapping his
own hickory shafts around the
neck of the nearest tree.
mentioned this fact to Bob.
I recall one hole, particularly,
in the battle of tempers that
followed. 1t must have been the
fifth. Byers was straight down
the middle. Jones hooked way
off the fairway into deep rough.
After a short delay, Byers hit
his second shot and started
walking ahead.
Jones. deep in the morass,
called out, Fore, Mr.. Byers!"
I'm sorry" Byers responded.
Il thought you had picked up"
picked up, hell!" fired Jones.
"You just watch this one"
The recovery shot stopped
about 4 feet from the cup for a
birdie. That was a large meas
ure OF satisfaction for the hot
blooded Georgia kid. He won.
8 and /, because as Jones put
1t later, "Byers ran out of clubs
first"
Earns First Big Gallery.
That evening after finishing
my overnight-those Georgia
papers were thirsty for Jones
COPY had my own qualms
about Bob's going very far. He
had all the shots. but his temper
was on the verge OF throwing
him. Next day, however, a self
controlled. strong-willed Jones
went out and defeated Frank
Dyer, 4 and 2. and it was this
round that earned him the first
of the tremendous galleries that
were to become a Jones trade
mark.
It was in 1917 that young Bob
and his Atlanta pal. Perry Adair,
were sent north to play several
War Relief charity matches in
and around New York City.
Bob's dad wrote ahead. asking
me to sort of keep an eye on
the youngsters. Kit. of course,
insisted they stay at our apart
ment at $50 Riverside drive.
Those we're interesting eve
nings. While Floncy scampered
about and Kit bursted her but
tons to entertain Bob and Perry,
I'd bang away at the typewriter,
getting out my column. Our liv-
ing room reminded me of a set
from You Can't Take It With
YOU We enjoyed having two
partly grown-up SONS" about
the place. How Kit, Floncy and
relished their stay. One eve
ming took the entire brood to
Coney Islands great trip. We