Beware the Quicksands

‘Beware the Quicksands’ is a short true story by guest author Peter Shaerf…

1925 was the last Open championship played at Prestwick and was perhaps more famous for the horrific collapse of native son Macdonald Smith than the victory of Jim Barnes, who with his win claimed his fourth of the modern majors.

Born into a famous Scottish golfing family in 1890 (his two older brothers Willie in 1899 and Alex in 1906 and 1910 were winners of the U.S. Open, the family having emigrated to the United States), Macdonald Smith would win 25 times on the fledgeling PGA Tour and placed in the top ten of major championships a total of 17 times.

But in 1925 Mac returned to Scotland to try to win that elusive major and the crown jewel of Championships that had eluded him so far despite third-place finishes in the two previous Opens.

After opening with a 76 in the first round, Smith rebounded with 69, only the third sub 70 round in Open history at that time. He led by two strokes going into the final day and the 36 hole finale.

Heading into that fateful afternoon of the final round Macdonald Smith had a five-stroke lead over Jim Barnes. Then it all unravelled!

As Smith headed out for his final round, with Barnes already in the clubhouse after a solid 74, Smith needed only a 78 to win. But when Smith teed off he was accompanied by, in the words of the great writer Bernard Darwin the “whole turbulent, enthusiastic Scottish crowd”.

I will let Smith’s own words take over:

“After a beginning 4 and then a 3 I was six strokes to the good over Barnes…what happened after this was a nightmare and a travesty of the law and order of the links. The gallery came pell-mell after us and I was soon lost from my partner Tom Fernie. The gallery had so completely shut off my partner that I could not see him play nor could he see me and (at the fourth) we both made our approaches at the very same time from the opposite sides of the green and the balls collided in mid-air…Everyone in the gallery seemed to have a bet on the match and a hundred times I heard words of encouragement such as “I’ve got two pounds on you, Mac, don’t weaken!”.

“The gallery was composed of men, women and children who were there more for curiosity than the love of the game…women wheeling baby carriages were often at the mercy of the crowd when they surged about the green and it was with difficulty that we managed to get a clear space to line up any of our putts…To cap the climax, on the fourteenth tee a man appeared with a violin and began to play for what few pennies he could collect.”

As Darwin so eloquently put it “The crowds are very keen and some imbued with the spirit of the miner on his holiday!”.

The rest is tragic. Smith staggered home, fighting the crowds and finished with an 82 which for the third year in a row would leave him in third place.

Macdonald Smith was bitter but not destroyed and over the next two years he won ten tournaments including the Western Open, the Canadian Open and the Metropolitan Open, all considered the top tournaments of the day.

Described by many as a humble man with the sweetest of swings he might best be remembered as one of the greatest players not to win a major championship.

Prestwick for its part never requested to host the Open again and yet remains as one of the greatest courses in Scotland and one that embodies so much of the history of this beautiful game.