Bing Crosby’s Pals Continue to Party, Even Without Host

It started back in the 1930s as a gathering of Bing and his buddies, a chance to get together and swap stories, bend an elbow, play some golf.

The Bing Crosby National Pro-Am Golf Tournament has become big business, with national television and its attendant negotiations and maneuvers, committees, organization charts, armed guards, problems--everything associated with the production of a major sports event.

But it’s something more than a golf tournament, though it’s one of the most renown. It’s a social event. A happening.

It’s still the Crosby Clambake, a gathering of friends at one of the most beautiful spots in the world, the picturesque Monterey Peninsula. It’s still retains some of that original flavor, an excuse to get together, take medicinal precaution against the chill and swap stories.

Some of the best come from the XIX Hole, a watering spot in the posh Lodge at Pebble Beach where, not infrequently, Jack Lemmon holds forth.

Here’s one he tells on himself:

“It was pouring rain. I pulled a shot into a trap. I tried to stand over the ball. I kept putting my foot in the goo. Suddenly I realized the club was coming up under my adam’s apple.

“I was sinking. It was like quicksand. Finally, I hit the ball into another trap. Now the sand was around my anklebones. I was stuck in it.

“I held my club out and the caddy pulled the club as I hung on. Out I came. ‘But I left a shoe in there. The shoe had sunk. We never got it. So I played the last nine holes in the rain with one shoe on and one stocking foot.

“Shot 103.”

Then there’s one Tennessee Ernie Ford tells about the late Jimmy Demaret:

“Demaret and his amateur partner were on the practice tee. The amateur ran over to Jimmy and said, ‘Come over and look at my swing.’

“Jimmy said, ‘All right, swing.’

The amateur took a swing. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

“Demaret replied: ‘You look like an octopus falling out of a tree.’ ”

Jack Nicklaus tells a Tommy Bolt story:

“He was on the 11th green at Pebble Beach and had about a 15-foot putt. He asked his caddy, ‘Shouldn’t I play this about 18 inches to the left of the hole?’

“The caddy said, ‘No, this green is a little different. It doesn’t do exactly what you expect.’

“ ‘Is that the Pacific Ocean down there?’ Tommy asked.

“The caddy agreed it was.

“ ‘It’s supposed to break to the ocean,’ Bolt said. He putted and it was dead straight.

“ ‘Now, ain’t that the ocean?’ Tommy asked his caddy. Again, the caddy agreed: it was, indeed, the Pacific Ocean.

“ ‘Well,’ said Bolt, ‘if putts ain’t gonna break toward it, why don’t they cover the damn thing up?’ ”

Then there was another one. Nicklaus was having a birthday during this tournament years ago.

“A friend called at the hotel. Said he wanted to wanted to wish me a happy birthday,” Nicklaus recalled. “Then he said, ‘By the way, there’s a guy here wants to say hello to you.

“A voice came on the phone singing ‘Happy Birthday to You.’ I’m wondering what’s going on and who is this singing in my ear and I’m wondering why me?

“When he finally finished singing, I give him a very stiff, business-like ‘To whom am I speaking?’

“He said: ‘Bing Crosby. Happy birthday, Jack.’ ”