The British plane was flying low as it traversed Metropolitan Golf Course in March, 1954.
Dr Springthorpe, high profile Melbourne psychiatrist, about to hit off, throws his hands and
club in the air, yelling ”I can’t hit a golf ball with that bloody plane just about touching my
head!”
I was a ten year old caddy with one whole year of experience. I’m now accustomed to
these wealthy golfers and their strange behaviour such as stopping off at the water taps
All four players and the caddies shade our eyes and crane upwards. The plane has Union
Jacks and Royal Crown insignia on the wings and tail. The recently crowned Queen
Elizabeth 2nd was on board as it flew low over the suburbs heading for Essendon airport.
This was the first visit to Australia and New Zealand for our twenty seven year old Queen
after being crowned in June 1953. The nation was thrilled and the flag waving crowds
were expected to be gigantic for the motorcade in the city.
Our group of four players made their jokes about stopping their golf for the Queen but
nobody else, when Dr Springthorpe, who was seriously eccentric (to say the least), did a
little jig in his plus fours. Dancing down the 2nd hole par three tee he then pulls his cap off
his head and sits it on his five iron like a head hunters trophy. Hoots of laughter and
dotted around the course. A quick gathering of the group. Whiskey nip, add water, down the
hatch, and off to the next hole. I’m also getting used to the big bets they seemed to have on every second or third hole.
“So this is how adults behave” I thought to myself.
Shrieks and wise-cracks follow as the plane drifts out of sight over the trees while our
spritely Doc dances around. Finally he settles down. “Quiet Gentlemen this serious. Back to golf!” But the good doctor is not quite finished as he addresses the ball. Up and down, front and back. He has a bizarre habit of jiggling his club over the ball. It appears to us caddies that he couldn’t convince himself to hit the ball so he kept jiggling. Then he suddenly pulls his cap off his head again, does a very low bow towards the green and the direction the plane had taken.
“To Her Majesty!” he screams as he shakes his cap and his club at the clouds. Then we all
stand in silent disbelief as he jiggles and jumps his club another sixteen times. Mercifully
he swings and hits it. The ball soars towards the deep right hand bunkers but draws back
to catch the edge of the tiered green. It rolls seven metres, has a look at the hole and
pops in like a mouse going home! The screams, laughs and hoots of joy are heard all over
the course. Out comes the whiskey and the shot glasses and Dr S wants to give a speech but now there are sixteen golfers on the tee. He warns them all they will hear all about it in the bar later that afternoon. So we all tried to recover ourselves and played on but the hole in one didn’t help his final score as he finished with ninety four and continually blamed the Queen for losing his concentration! Then he paid me seven shillings for the four and a half hour round and didn’t tip me. But I wouldn’t have missed it for quids.
John A Wilson, April 2014
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