by R. M. DOUGLAS

Created on: February 05, 2007   Last Updated: May 15, 2007

Hickory Shafts
Walking out of the pro-shop, Harry Dillon looked like he could be getting paid for teeing it up every week the Senior Tour. His hair was mostly gray, but even as a young man it has been palomino gold. The extended hand was large, the size of a baseball infielder's mitt. The fingers were long and thick, and crooked in wandering arthritis dictated angles.

"Welcome to Diamond Heights, Mr. Martin."
"Sam, please."
"Okay, Sam. Call me Harry. Have you played our course?" Harry was dressed in pale green collared shirt, and crisply pressed tan slacks.
"Afraid not, my game belongs on a 6200 yard Muni."
"This way please. I have a table reserved in the Cypress Room, we can have lunch later."
"Thank You."
He lightly held my left arm and ushered me into a windowless room paneled in dark mahogany. Golf themed artwork decorated three walls, with a big screen TV tuned to the business channel taking up much of the fourth. The sound of muted cool jazz dripped from overhead speakers. The Cypress Room was empty but for one table occupied by a weekday foursome, likely doctors or dentists, having coffee before making the turn.
A waiter in the same pale green shirt and red bowtie appeared before our chairs were still. "Good mornin' Mr. Dillon, may I bring ya'll somethin' to drink, lunch won't be served for two hours-today's special is the Reuben sandwich." The accent was warm Alabama, or maybe Mississippi.
"Sam, what's your pleasure?"
"Coffee-black."
"Make it two, Donny."
The coffee arrived in bone china cups resting on saucers bearing the green Diamond Heights club logo. The spoons, cream pitcher and sugar bowl were recently polished, and heavy enough to be genuine silver.
"I've read several of your pieces, particularly liked the one about the baseball player-but the name escapes me at the moment."
Martin replied, "The Big Chew."
"Yes, I remember now. You write like the old-timer-Jimmy Cannon, Dick Young or Red Smith. Is writing your full time occupation?"
"I appreciate your comment, but no, writing is just a hobby of sorts."
"What's your day job."
"I'm a consultant, personnel matters mostly. I also own a book store in San Francisco."
The foursome finished their coffee and stopped by our table on their way to the 10th tee. The shortest of the four said, "Good morning, Mr. Dillon, will you be playing this afternoon?"
"No, not today Frank, I'll be with Mr. Martin all day, he's writing a piece for Golf Magazine."
Frank nodded in my direction and said, "Welcome to Diamond

• 1
• 2
• 3
• ...
• 7
• Next Page >>