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Men's
Four-Piece Golf Suits
Carmoor-London Colors
in Scottish Woolen Weaves
oo
65.
A four-piece golf suit, tailored in gen
uine SCOTTISH WOOLENS, with the
new English lounge type of golf coat.
It gives you a combination bench and
bunker suit which can be supplement
ed with other appropriate garments and
accessories from our four Men's Shops
which are fully equipped to furnish all
your needs.
(genuine Scotch Woollens,
Made by the members of the
Scottish Woollen Association
SCOTTISH WOOLLEN
Men's Shops West 38th and 37th Sts. New York
On the Fairways
(By Sandy McNiblick)
The past week was a trifle dull in the way of golf. Many of
the links folk enjoyed the old game, but they played it. To the
conversationalist the week was a trifle haggard.
But wait. You haven't heard, maybe, about the hit it made with
"Bill" Kelly, Trenton, N. J., and his old links pal, "Dave" Edwards,
brother of Senator Edwards.
They are golfers from the word go and the main trouble betwixt
them and the dark night is that it is tough to play golf at night.
The other night in The Carolina, they were fretting, and we
joined the party. What is a mere night to us?
It was the eve of the Costume Recital at the hotel and the party
edged towards the door of the dance floor where the carryings on
were to take place. They didn't smoke in there but, as we'd just
finished a cigarette, and "Dave" insisted we take a seat with him
in there, we went. Especially as "Bill" had just lit a fresh cigarette.
The music went over big, especially with "Bill" out there in the hall.
He couldn't hear it. "Dave" left the hall after two songs had
been sung, as he said the singers couldn't be good golfers. They
came in, said he, but didn't go out.
"Bill" and "Dave" were much perturbed when the songsters
passed the hat for a collection, but the light soon dawned.
"Do you need a caddy tomorrow?" asked the main operatic
gazabo, when he saw "Bill."
"Now you're talking sense," answered "Bill." "I sure do?
Know anyone?"
"How about me?" asked the operatic hero. "That's what Ah
works at in de daytime."
"Oh," answered "Bill." But he was a little dubious about the
man's ability to carry a golf bag and follow the ball. He'd heard
him sing.
It was a great week for golf with the employees at The Carolina
last week.
Head-waiter Jimmy Maher and the head-waiter of the upstairs
crew, represented the dining room of the hotel against a couple of
birds from the golf shop at the Country Club. The latter pair
was Ed Coon, not as dark as his name, and Paul Nevens.
Maher had a 39-40-79, and his partner a 40-41-81, but Nevens
had a 39-35-74. They played on No. 1, and Nevens and Coon
won the match, one up.
As the result of the good golf scores of the waiters the hotel
management is now over-run with pleas from the golf guests there.
They all seem to want to become waiters.
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An accident is an accident. We know that. Even if it does take
more than a motor truck to make us hole out.
But there was nearly a calamity on the golf links here the other
day. E. D. Marsh, New York, was out there golfing and he's a
good one.
He teed off at the third hole of No. 1 course and got a pippin.
His second shot wasn't too good while his third on that long hole,
wound up behind a tuft of grass more than a foot high. Marsh
had the sole idea of getting the ball thence. He drew a mashie and
hit the ball a belt. He was 130 yards from the green, but wasn't
thinking about the green just then wanted to get out of that
bum lie.
Just then his caddy had the look of those things when they're
about to pass out.
"What's the matter ?" asked Marsh, registering grave concern at
once for the bag-toter.
"Your ball," gasped the darky.