1964-68 Mornings at the Club--A Personal Story, part 1

 

Letty and Faye Berentz, 2013 Such stories we could tell....

     Often my mornings began with a cheerful boot out of the car and my mother’s words, “Smile and be kind to everyone today, Letty.”   With sleepy eyes I wondered toward the golf shop.  The sun was usually on the horizon, and the grass was wet with morning dew, as I stumbled toward the golf shop scratching my tight pony tail.  Old Bill would already have the shop doors open and the basement wall fan turned on sucking in the cool morning air like a giant windmill.  I did my best to give a cheerful “Hi, Bill, how’s it going?” but was most often met with a reply “Morning.”  His words rolled from his mouth like thick molasses.

I was fifteen the year I began to open the golf shop and work from early morning till 2:00 Tuesday through Saturday in the summers. Prior to turning 15, Westphal's opened the shop and I showed up between 7-8, but now they had retired. On busy summer days one of the boys would work the morning shift with us. My favorite co-heart was Bobbie Ballenger, but it was a young man named Dale who sent me my first flowers. I think he had a crush on me.

 My first job was to help Bill set out clubs of the early morning regulars, the dew sweepers as we called them.  Hattie, Evelyn, Faye, Yvonne, LaRue and the men from Goodrich who played golf immediately after their night shift were the first ones for which we prepared.

          If Hattie’s clubs weren’t out front when she arrived, her brisk strut and mannerisms barked, “Where are my clubs? You knew I was coming out to play early!”

Old Bill’s response was simple, “Umph!,” then he would duck his head, stoop his shoulders forward with eyes looking at the ground, and ever more slowly stepped down into the club storage room to retrieve her clubs.  I secretly chuckled when he grumbled, “That woman!  She’s never happy, never.  Couldn’t make her happy.”  

I held my words and quietly talked in my head, “Haven’t you ever heard her laugh with the women downstairs after a round of golf.  She giggles like a silly child.”

          One early morning I had the clubs lined up and Bill was working on golf carts in the back when a member growled at me, “Letty, I don’t see my clubs set out.  Didn’t you pay attention to the tee times?”

          My head, too, ducked, but then I regrouped and replied gaily, “They’re out there.  You just didn’t seem them.”  I was to learn later that day that that was not the correct response.  I learned to say, always with a sincere smile, “I’m sorry.  Let me check.  I may have overlooked yours.”

 The club house, an old Tudor style brick building, had no fresh air breathing through it.   The golf shop, club storage, and cart storage covered the north side of the bottom floor.  The men’s locker room faced the east and the ladies locker room simply was another two steps down into the center of the basement or lower floor.  On those steamy hot mornings when the wind didn’t stir, I would dash through the basement and up the connecting stairs to the main entrance South doors, leaving all the doors open behind me and I used cases of beer hold open the South doors.  Once a breeze was created and fresh air traveled through the lower portion of the building I could breathe.  Without the fresh air from South to North the building smelled of stale smoke.     

          Somewhere between 8-9am there would be a break in the action, and I would trot upstairs to pick up a fresh glass of ice tea made by the Garsky’s, the couple who cleaned the clubhouse and lived upstairs.  There was nothing better in the world than fresh brewed tea on a crisp summer morning.  So began my delightful addiction to the world of teas, fresh brewed only.  I realize now that the tea was another way to set myself apart from my mother’s bridge club and her world of coffee, mints, and women’s talk.  Such a simple peaceful way to set myself apart.  The Garsky’s were a firm stalwart couple who never had much to say, but always greeted me with a smile.  Some mornings I actually sat down on the second floor screened in porch where children could sit in wet bathing suits to eat lunch.  I would look out at the golf course and swimming pool, just watching and dreaming.  I felt so grown up, acting as if I were in charge.