Tolley's Book*

Golfer Tolley, behemoth of Britain, open champion of France, onetime amateur champion of England, captain of the lately defeated British Walker Cup team, has, like many another sport notable, thriftily put his prominence to account. A book bearing Tolley's name on its spine has appeared in U. S. book stalls.

The first ten chapters, replete with graceful, pipe-in-mouth poses by the author, meticulously initiate the duffer into the serious mysteries of golf. Like any instruction book, this part is all very involved and reiterative, so eager is the teacher to tell all he knows and to be perfectly clear. He advances nothing new or profound, unless it is an emphatic command that the left toe shall "claw" the ground and the eye be fastened not upon the ball as a whole, but upon one particular dimple of the ball. The style advocated is the straight-armed, full-swinging British method and will not appeal greatly to Americans, who now favor the curt backswing with a short-shafted, large-headed club. In the U. S. there is not as much distinction between a "swung" wooden shot and a "hit" iron shot as Tolley makes.

A Chapter entitled "Why England Appears to Be Behind America" sets forth that Englishmen take too great delight in pounding colossal tee-shots, neglecting the rest of their game. Americans, intent upon complete mastery of whatever they take up, hold themselves in to "an old man's game" off the tees and "evoke admiration by their daring and skilful shots up to the flag." Americans take golf intensely, says Tolley; they spend more time and money on it, have orthodox professional stylists after whom to model their games. Not so the English. To them it is only a game, to be played "at."

A final chapter, "Experiences in America," obviously transcribed from a careful diary, "gives greetings" to Tolley's U. S. friends and, though somewhat overspattered with the first person singular, should help the book sell. Tolley's countrymen may feel that this chapter smacks of the alibi for its author's repeated failures abroad; the U. S. friends will find its humor well-meant but embarrassingly weak.

The Tolley humor is, in fact, a notable disappointment. Since he first hove into the public eye, Tolley has been touted as a merry, garrulous, quip-cracking links-wit. Tales are told of his Oxford days when, in postprandial exuberance, he would harangue a blithe gathering in his rooms upon his years of study at the science of propelling a spheroid. He would then tee a ball on the carpet and drive it smashing through a closet panel. Another feat was to loft balls from the lawn of University College to the sward of Queen's College over the walls and across "the High." A servant would then call at Queens, mocking politely: "Mr. Tolley's compliments to the gentlemen of Queens and might he have his golf balls back?"

In The Modern Golfer, the verve thus suggested seems badly buried in the bunkers of authorship. The garrulousness is there, but the wit runs so low that one joke, about a billiard player watching Vardon putt, has to be pressed into service twice.

*THE MODERN GOLFER--Cyril J. H. Tolley --Knopf ($3.00).