A Man From Down Under Laughs It Up

America's pros figured to rule at Royal Birkdale, but the joke was on them when they vanished into the willow scrub and Peter Thomson won the British Open

by John Lovesey

Issue date: July 19, 1965

To American golf enthusiasts the results of the British Open last week read like a list of tourist-class passengers on board the Queen Mary. Peter Thomson, a hibernating, hay-fevery Australian, was first. A bulldoggish Welshman named Brian Huggett and a 40-year old Irishman named Christy O'Connor tied for second. Next came Argentina's Roberto de Vicenzo, who has been around so long that he seems like a survivor of the Hagen era. All of them were ahead of defending champion Tony Lema, who was second with two holes left to play but ended up fifth. Then, in the next six places, came Kel Nagle, Bernard Hunt, Sebastian Miguel, Bruce Devlin, John Panton and Max Faulkner. A dozen small Dunlop golf balls—the only ones the Americans didn't lose in the willow scrub—go to the person who can find an American in that group. And then came Jack Nicklaus—whom unchauvanistic British bookmakers had made a 3-to-1 favorite—followed by three more glittering golfing names, Hugh Boyle, Lionel Platts and Neil Coles, before you got to Arnold Palmer, who was a dismal 16th. Considering that the U.S. had never sent a stronger field to the British Open, the results added up to the most distressing performance by Americans overseas since the last sightseeing bus of Shriners took Paris.

Looking as pleased as if he had swiped it from Arnold Palmer's locker, winner Peter Thomson breaks into an uncharacteristic grin after reclaiming the British Open trophy he has held four times before.    (Hulton Deutsch/Allsport)

Through the first two days it probably seemed to those in the U.S. who were reading accounts in their local newspapers that the American stars were in control. Lema, after all, led the first round with a 68 and was tied with Devlin through 36 holes, with Palmer only one stroke behind. Nicklaus, too, was close enough to be a serious contender. But those on the scene at Royal Birkdale Golf Course near Liverpool knew better. They could not see that the famous old course—fast, dried out and narrow—was not suited to Americans at all this particular week and that the championship could easily be taken by almost any player who could stay in the fairways through the final 36 holes on Friday. Why, bookmakers notwithstanding, he could even be a non-American.

The player turned out to be the 35-year old Thomson, who had previously won the British Open four times and who is about as non-American as you can get. Although a fine swinger, Thomson quit the American tour in 1960 because he never felt at ease in the U.S. From then on he generally confined his play to the less lucrative tournaments of Britain and the Far East. "I have always been one to keep Americans at their distance," he explained on the evening of his victory, and his 74-68-72-71—285 was enough to keep them well away from him.

Hard by the Irish Sea, the Royal Birkdale course plays to a par of 35-38-73 and has for years been considered the finest links in England. Its sand dunes are great, undulating hills that poke into fairways and help the wind play sadistic tricks even with well-hit golf shots. Strewn in nightmarish jungles everywhere are willow scrub and gorse, some of it growing right to the edge of the greens. A 76-year old course, Birkdale for years had a drainage problem, and members often wore boots as they sloshed around. But that hazard was eliminated, and in 1940 the club was scheduled to stage its first British Open. World War II took care of that. Birkdale had to wait until 1951 for the honorary "Royal" to be added to its name and until 1954 to hold its first Open, when—you guessed it—Peter Thomson won. He did it by playing shrewd, careful, restrained golf.

Last week, while esteemed Americans like Doug Sanders were taking 9s out of bunkers and others were hitting balls off everything but the clubhouse roof, Thomson was going his shrewd, careful, restrained way again. He usually left his driver in the bag—"it's a bit of luck involved in using a driver, you know"—and contented himself with hitting cautious three-woods off the tees. That, plus good putting and much experience on British courses enabled him to take charge of the tournament with a steady 72 in the morning round on Friday.

The final 18 holes after lunch shaped up as a Birkdale battle royal among Thomson (214) and Devlin (215), the two Australians, and two of America's foremost shotmakers, Lema (215) and Palmer (216). No one really gave much consideration to Huggett, O'Connor or DeVicenzo, though it was Roberto who made the best show among those in the lesser group, four-putting the 63rd but still holding at the 70th where he trailed by only a stroke, but pars after that were not good enough.

"I am lazy," he sighed later. "No punch at all at the finish."

By the time the last 18 began, the spectators at Royal Birkdale had started to get a certain inkling about Thomson. For one thing, he was feeling well. The hay fever that had plagued him off and on for years was absent. For another, he was playing the best golf. Lema, on the other hand, arriving in England straight from the Western Open in Chicago, had managed to get little rest and not enough practice rounds. He had hung on this far by the fine thread of a wonderfully hot putter.

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Thomson held his one-stroke advantage through the first four holes of the afternoon as Lema matched him shot for shot. But Lema drove into a bunker at the 5th and bogeyed. A Thomson birdie at the 8th widened the gap. Thomson, wearing a gray pullover sweater and checkered cap, and catching his tongue between his teeth as he studied each shot more closely, went to the long back nine with a three-shot cushion.

Then, as in any major tournament, the strain began to take its toll. Thomson missed a putt from six feet at the 11th that would have all but eliminated Lema. When Thomson missed a two-footer and bogeyed the 12th, the American had every right to sense that his opponent was cracking. Lema, obviously aroused, got a birdie at the 13th, and Thomson's lead had dwindled back to one stroke. They parred the next three holes, learned of DeVicenzo's scores up ahead and felt sure, going to the 17th, or 71st, that the tournament belonged to one of them.

An enormous crowd, a television crew, the press and a corps of police moved in the vast tide of excitement to the 17th tee, and a Lancashire policeman, helping control the spectators, said to Thomson, "It's in the bag, I think." Peter put his tongue between his teeth.

It was right there that Tony finally missed a shot he could not afford. He hit his drive on 17 into the rough. He could not reach the par-5 hole in two, but Thomson did, to make an easy birdie, while Lema had to settle for a par. He then caught a bunker at the final hole, hit out dejectedly and three-putted for a 6 and a 74, while Thomson got a birdie again, a tidy 71 and another British Open crown.  

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