The Masters is just around the corner, and we will be reminded time and again by Jim Nantz, “The Masters is a tradition unlike any other.”
If you want to believe that, fine, but the fact is that once upon a time the Masters upheld a tradition that was quite common in certain quarters — specifically the official exclusion of Black participants. All the caddies at Augusta National Golf Club were Black, as were many of the service personnel. But Black golfers, however qualified, were not invited to the Masters.
You can read all about it in Peter May’s excellent new book, “Changing the Course: How Charlie Sifford and Stanley Mosk Integrated the PGA.”
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There is far more to the story. The fact is that for three decades the PGA itself was officially exclusionary. Article III, Section 1 of the PGA’s Constitution and By-Laws of the Professional Golfers of America was written in 1934. Under the heading of “Members,” it read, “Professional golfers of the Caucasian race, over the age of eighteen (18), residing in North or South America, and who have served at least five years in the profession (either in the employ of a golf club in the capacity of a professional or in the employ of a professional as his assistant), shall be eligible for membership.”
Got that?
What this meant was that Black golfers did the best they could competing for meager purses in their own circuit, known as the United Golf Association. Suffice it to say no one was getting rich.
May’s stellar reporting introduces us to Sifford, whom savvy golf fans probably know something about, and men such as Bill Spiller, Ted Rhodes, Pat Ball, and Howard Wheeler, names less familiar.
Wheeler was a fascinating guy who played golf cross-handed. In addition to his UGA earnings, he made a living hustling on the golf course, as well as being the chauffeur for the great singer Ethel Waters.
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But May’s primary focuses are on Sifford, arguably the best Black golfer of the 1950s and ’60s, and Mosk, who became California’s attorney general and who had ruled that racial covenants were unenforceable while sitting as a Superior Court judge in 1947.
The two first met at Hillcrest Country Club in Los Angeles, a famed lunch spot for, among others, George Burns and Jack Benny. Mosk was outraged upon learning of the PGA’s “Caucasian clause,” and the battle was on. Sifford could not have found a better ally.
You learn a lot in this book. I knew that Joe Louis loved golf. I did not know how much he loved golf, or that he was good enough to participate in tournaments or that he was a major patron of the UGA golfers. Nor did I know the role played in the lives of these golfers by renowned bandleader and singer Billy Eckstine.
The Caucasian clause was eliminated in 1962, but that was hardly the end of the story. America was America, and if a tournament happened to be in the South, this meant eating and changing clothes in the parking lot. You read that correctly. Understand, this was an America in which a superstar entertainer such as Nat King Cole could knock ‘em dead in a Las Vegas hotel and then be denied an opportunity to eat or sleep there.
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Black golfers were used to all sorts of indignities. There was an incomprehensibly disgusting moment in a Phoenix Open when a Sifford-led foursome got to the first green to discover the flagstick cup was packed with human excrement. Say no more.
Sifford would go on to participate in 12 US Opens and six PGA Championships, but he was past his prime when those opportunities presented themselves. He made it into the World Golf Hall of Fame and was presented with the Presidential Medal of Freedom by Barack Obama. But Sifford never played in a Masters, the honor of being the first Black participant going to Lee Elder in 1975.
In his 1992 autobiography, Sifford wrote, “To my mind, the Masters was the most redneck tournament in the country, run by people who openly discriminated against Blacks.”
May has given us irrefutable history with this important book. The last word goes to Gary Player, who wrote the foreword.
“I hope by reading this book,” said Player, “you will come to understand that Charlie’s struggle was not just about getting to play golf, but was one of the great civil rights struggles of the time.”
Bob Ryan can be reached at robert.ryan@globe.com.