Gamblers on the Fairway

At 11 o'clock one night last fortnight the phone rang in a room in the St. Paul Hotel. "Sam Snead?" asked a man's voice. Golfer Snead allowed that it was. Another husky voice came on to inform Snead that "we have lots of money bet" on the final round of the St. Paul Open, to be played next day. Grunted the mystery caller: "Now you get in there and start playing. We don't want Mangrum to win." Slamming Sam, who at the time trailed Lloyd Mangrum by ten strokes, angrily snorted: "Do you know what time it is?" hung up and went back to bed. Half an hour later, in the same kind of call, Lloyd Mangrum got more ominous advice: "If you want to get out of St. Paul safe, you better not play so good tomorrow."

Were gamblers really trying to fix big-time golf as they had fixed big-time basketball? Next day, with a mild case of jitters, Mangrum played under an armed police escort, but blasted a 2-under-par 70 to take $2,250 first prize money (and to become the year's top money winner with $18,948.83). Later, he told newsmen it was not quite a new experience: two years ago, a man he knew (since "sent up the river for dope peddling or something") offered him a share "in cutting up $7,000" if he would finish no better than fourth in a West Coast tournament.

This week, in Chicago for the All-American Tournament at suburban Tarn O'Shanter Country Club, Sam Snead just scoffed at the "threats," declared: "I get calls from guys like that all the time." But as the tournament got under way, both Snead and Mangrum, playing under the watchful eyes of a convoy of cops and plainclothesmen, were clearly off their games. Mangrum wound up tied for sixth place; Snead was out of the running. The winner: former (1949) U.S. Open Champion Gary Middlecoff, with a 274.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.