To Atlanta, Ga., journeyed dapper Walter Hagen, noisy Bill Mehlhorn, dour Bobbie Cruickshank, swart Gene Sarazen, with many another expert, professional wielder of wood and iron. They were to compete in the Southern Open Golf Tournament, suddenly of great importance because of record purse. They hoped with fervor for money; they also hoped for the almost unattainable honor of beating Bobbie Jones, amateur.
Over Jones's home course at the East Lake Country Club, they whacked their troubled way, eyes wandering from purse to Jones and back to purse again. For his first round the...
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