AT their first sight of Mildred Didrikson Zaharias on the golf course, spectators often react like sideshow gawkers; they are first filled with awe, then with doubt, then with wonder. Obviously, they feel, no woman should be able to hit a golf ball so far (her longest drive: 315 yards).
But in 20 years of competition, this 5 ft6 in. phenomenon with grey-green eyes, slightly bowed legs and squared shoulders has accomplished feats which for sheer diversity have seldom been equaled by any athlete, male or female. She broke two world records at the 1932 Olympics, was twice selected All-America basketball forward, has pitched for the St. Louis Cardinals (in an exhibition game), and has toured the country giving billiard exhibitions. Anything that requires muscular coordination is her meat. She has excelled at tennis, swimming, diving, bowling, shot-putting, lacrosse, fencing and polo. She can type 86 words a minute and has been heard to say of her husband, George Zaharias, a 300-lb. ex-wrestler: "Yep, I threw him last night with a flying mare."
Today, going on 40, the Babe has forsaken all forms of sport except golf. She is star and chief drawing card of the women's professional golf troupe which last fortnight began its ten-month barnstorming tour in Tampa.
Babe stalks the fairway with a conscious sense of theater. She flips king-size cigarettes into the air and catches them nonchalantly in her mouth, then lights her match with her fingernail. Her hawkish, sun-toughened face is frozen for the most part in a thin-lipped mask, but she knows when to let go a wisecrack. When one of her tremendous drives sails out of bounds, she turns to the crowd and explains, "I hit it straight but it went crooked."
If she sinks a long putt, she is apt to fall to her knees and praise Allah; when she misses a short one, she may exclaim, "I feel like nuts & bolts rattling together." On a hot day, she once gathered a circle of women around her on the golf course while she shed her petticoat; another time she startled the gallery with a highland fling. She once insisted on being paid her tournament money in one-dollar bills ("It makes me feel richer"). She operates like a woman whose life is a constant campaign to astound people.
FOR ten months a year she plays in tournaments, has earned more than $100,000 a year from them, exhibitions, endorsements, etc. She lives on her own golf course just off Route 41, near Tampa. A sign saying "Home of Babe and George Zaharias" advertises its presence to all who wish to play there for a greens fee of $2. She and George bought the course two years ago and set up housekeeping in a pink stucco, remodeled caddy house just off the practice putting green. Babe takes her housewifely chores as seriously as her golf. She designed the modern, push-button kitchen which, like the dining room is painted a violent yellow. "Kinda loud," Babe admits offhandedly, "but you get used to it."