Golfery

December, January, February, March. A thousand golf courses lie in expensive desuetude. Eighteen thousand fairways, as many close-clipped greens, countless traps and bunkers are sheathed with ice and snow. Investments totaling $180,000,000 (interest at 6%, 120 days, $3,600,000) yield no return save wistful hopes for an early spring. Two hundred thousand livers, in torsos bound to northern swivel chairs, become torpid, cause unfortunate changes in blood. Club dues continue. Last week four men set out over the difficult Mayfield course, scene of many championships, near Cleveland. A blizzard had just passed that way. Yet three hours later they plodded up from the eighteenth green, tired, satisfied, proud of scores. One had a card of 66, another 68; the other two were under 80. Par for the course is 72.

They had not cheated. They had played with bow and arrow instead of club and ball. Standing on tees they had shot arrows toward greens. Walking to where the arrows had landed, they had shot again. Regulation archery targets had been set up on the greens, substitutes for ice-filled cups. A bull's-eye had meant a "dropped" putt. A shot anywhere on the target had meant that the next putt would be automatically conceded.

Archery-golf was originated four years ago in San Francisco, not for meteorological reasons. A big game hunter, archery enthusiast, held golf in low esteem, challenged a golfing friend, each to use his favorite weapons. Last year it was introduced in less favored climes as a winter sport. It "caught on." This winter has seen the game in high favor at Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland, other snowbound golf centres.