For Sam The Price Is Always Right

"Nobody. Nobody knows more'n me about golf. I go to somebody about my insurance and about my teeth. But I don't go to anybody about golf."

They got ready to leave. Audrey said the big house had gotten a little lonely for her, but that their miniature pinscher Jo Jo was good company. "We got a Doberman at the farm," Sam said. "He wouldn't harm a fly."

"Yes he would," said Audrey. "He'd bite."

"No, he wouldn't, Audrey. He's a cream puff."

Their son Jack had lived there until he was married, commuting to Miami to finish college, Audrey said. She still kept his room the way it was, with his yearbooks and pictures. There was a photograph of Jack with Sam in Africa. The picture showed a handsome young man with slightly crossed eyes. Audrey Snead said both boys, Jack, now 30, and Terry, 22, were born cross-eyed, and they couldn't understand it because neither she nor Sam had eye trouble or even wore glasses.

Jack was married and had two kids now, she said, and worked for his daddy in Hot Springs.

What about Terry?

"Terry's retarded," Snead said without hesitation. He said there had been a high fever at an early age. Terry had been in a home since he was five.

"He's a strong, fine-looking kid," said Snead. "You look at him, and you'd think he was perfectly normal. He recognizes me when he sees me, but that's about all."

"He loves his daddy," said Audrey.