End of an Era

 

I was saddened to hear that Phil Harris had died. I knew the man. You might say we were old friends.

As a matter of fact, we first met in 1954 in Monterey, California. I was attending the Army Language School, learning Russian, and Phil was playing in the Bing Crosby Pro-Am tournament. His professional partner was Dutch Harrison, a good ol’ boy from Arkansas, who was leading the pack on the final day and coasted to an easy victory. During this last round, Harris was anxious to keep out of Harrison’s way, because Dutch, who was amiable but aging, could clearly use the win.

On the back nine of Pebble Beach, while Harris was looking for his bail, Harrison hit a shot that disappeared over a rise in the fairway. When Harris had played his own shot, he thought about Harrison. Seeing me standing there, he walked over and asked in whisper, “Has Dutch shot?”

“Yes sir, “ I said.

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