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||C 32 THE SOUTHERN ISRAELITE April 21, 1978
Golfing with Golda and
by K. Jason Site well
This is mostly about my
experiences as special golf
instructor to Prime Minister
Golda Meir of Israel. But the
beginning of this story concerns
Ben-Gurion.
In 1958, when I first became
involved in the Israeli golf scene,
Ben-Gurion was Prime Minister.
Some of Ben-Gurion’s foreign
policy advisors were under the
impression that Israel was at a
disadvantage in its dealings with
the U.S. because it lacked golf
capability. Eisenhower was then
president of the U.S. He liked to
bring his eminent guests to Camp
David where the official
proceedings would be interrupted
at least once a day for a round of
golf. Some of the most fruitful
discussions were held in a golf cart
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or in the clubhouse.
The clinching argument for Ben-
Gurion was that a photograph of
him playing golf with Ike would
confer great prestige on Israel in
the community of nations.
Ben-Gurion was then told that it
would be in Israel's national
interest to build a golf-course—not
just as an international status
symbol but as a tourist attraction.
Israel was putting millions of
dollars each year into tourist
advertising but kept bumping into
complaints from travel agents who
said their customers might be more
interested in visiting Biblical sites if
they were adjacent to a golf course.
At this point my own
involvement began. I received a
telephone call asking me to come
to Israel both to teach Ben-Gurion
how to play and to help design an
18-hole course. The venerable
Israeli leader had a large shaggy
head, into which were set small
eyes that struck sparks every time
they twinkled. He was blunt and
hearty and said he thought taking
up golf was a lot of foolishness but
that he would do anything to
improve Israel's trade balance.
My first job, he said, was to help
design a golf course, for which the
government would provide land at
Caesarea, famous site of the old
Roman ruins. He wanted me to
take as much time as required.
Then I would return to Jerusalem
to give him golf lessons, which
would be top secret until he was
ready to be put on public
exhibition.
Four months later, having
fulfilled my mission in Caesarea, 1
set about the second and more
consequential part of my
assignment—teaching golf to a 73-
year-old man who never before
had even touched a golf club. My
first five meetings with Ben-
Gurion were unforgettable. He
discoursed on history, philosophy,
anthropology, astronomy,
biology, zoology and architecture.
He was the most energetic
storyteller 1 ever met. One way or
another he contrived, week after
week, to defer his golf lessons.
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Finally he Jet the cat out of the
bag. He took me into his inner
office, shut the door securely,
turned off the phones, sat me down
on the couch reserved for visitors
of state, and shared his big secret.
He had never intended, he said
to go all the way. He had agreed to
the scheme because of something
he alone knew. He had made up his
mind six months earlier that he
was going to resign at an
appropriate time—certainly no
later than the spring of 1959.
Therefore there would be no point
in his learning to play.
I asked the obvious question:
Why, then, did he agree to the
scheme in the first place?
He threw back that beautiful
shaggy head, then his face broke
wide open into the most appealing
grin I had seen since 1 first saw a
picture of Will Rogers.
about 90 minutes, describing the
dynamics of the golf swing and
drawing little sketches to show her
the different elements involved in
hitting the ball accurately and in a
way that was smooth and graceful.
At our third session, she began
asking questions.
“Why do you say you want me to
concentrate on keeping a firm left
arm, using the right arm just to
steer the club?”
“Because experiences going
back over many years by the
world’s best golfers have
demonstrated that the firm left
arm is the best way to transmit
power to the ball and keep it from
veering off line,” I said.
“In that case,” she countered, “I
could get more power by playing
with left-handed clubs, and hitting
the ball with a firm right arm from
7 knew that my successor would be
Golda Meir... And every time I think of
Golda playing golf, it makes me feel
good all over’—David Ben-Gurion.
“Simple,” he said. “I knew that
my successor would be Golda
Meir.I wanted to create a
precedent that would be binding
on her. I would be involved in this
project just long enough to commit
my successor as well. And every
time 1 think of Golda playing golf,
it makes me feel good all over.”
“What makes you think she'll do
itr I asked.
“She would have no way of
refusing—not when all the
advisors go to work on her the way
they did on me. It might not even
be necessary to bring in the
advisers. 1 think I can do it all by
myself."
He squinted at his watch. “It is
now 10:45 a.m. I telephoned her
yesterday and asked her to come to
my office at 11. I want her to meet
you, just so she’ll know how
serious I am."
A few minutes later, Mrs. Meir
arrived at the Prime Minister’s
office. Her greeting was brief,
almost curt.
Ben-Gurion said he intended,
at the end of the month, to
announce his retirement and that
he would throw all his weight
behind her as his successor.
For maybe an hour they
discussed the problems of
government and the obvious need
to make the transition as smoothly
as possible. Then, without the
slightest change of inflection in his
voice or expression, he said he had
accepted the advice of the top
people in the government about
the considerable advantage to
Israel of a Prime Minister who
could play golf with the American
President if need be. And that was
why they had brought me to Israel.
Then he sat back in his seat and,
with a straight face, waited for the
message to sink in. Mrs. Meir
wasn’t fazed.
“That makes good sense,” she
said after only a few seconds.
Then, looking squarely at me, she
asked without the slightest sign of
any incredulity: “When do we
start?"
An easy student she was not.
At our first session, she said shtf
didn’t want to do anything except
hear me discourse on the theory
and practice of golf. This I did for
the right side. Since I am right-
handed, I am bound to hit more
accurately that way and I could
probably hit it farther, too."
I made the mistake of trying to
refute the argument before
thinking it through by saying that
it was unnatural for a right-handed
tennis player turning to his left
when hitting a back-hand shot.”
As I thought about it, I knew she
had all the logic on her side, so I
decided to simptify the argument.
“Very well," I said, “we will have
two sets of clubs, one lefty, the
other righty. I think you will find
that using the right-handed clubs
will be much easier.”
“I don’t think so,” she replied.
“There’s no point in being
extravagant. One set of clubs is
enough. And if we start the correct
way—that is, using clubs that I can
hit with my right arm—then we’U
develop good habits all thq way.
“Now, what did you mean when
you said that I had to concentrate
on swinging slowly?”
“Just that there was no direct
connection between a fast swing
and the distance traveled by the
ball,” I replied.
“How can you say that,” she
asked, “when Arnold Palmer says
in this book right on the top of my
desk that you really got to take a
good cut at the ball, as he puts it?”
“Well," I said, “the professional
players have been able to groove a
pretty fast swing and they know
how to control it.”
“But that’s not what you said
earlier,” she said abruptly. “You
said there’s no connection between
a fast swing and distance.”
“That’s still correct," I said.
“The important thing is the power
that’s transmitted to the ball at the
instant of impact. That means that
legs, hips, shoulders and arms all
have to be synchronized in a power
flow to the ball."
So a fast swing is not necessary?"
"No."
“Then, why are the American
professionals turning to lighter
clubs? My assistant underlined an
article for me which said that Jack
Nicklaus was using very light clubs
because he could generate more
clubhead speed."
B.G.
1 pointed out that what was
good for Jack Nicklaus wasn’t
necessarily good for beginning
players.
■ “Oh, so you think I should use
heavy clubs?" she asked.
I was beginning to get a little
weary. “What I mean is,” I said, “I
want to use very little clubs so that
you can handle them more easily
than heavier clubs.”
“You haven’t seen me handle
any clubs. What makes you say 1
can’t handle the heavier club?"
I decided to concede that
particular point. “All I’m trying to
say is that just because a
professional player does things a
certain way doesn’t mean it’s good
for everyone. For example, the
pros use clubs with stiff shafts. The
average player uses a club with a
whippy shaft.”
“Why is that?"
“The whippy shaft gives the
average player more distance. The
stiff shaft provides more accuracy.
The professional player gets plenty
of distance and wants the
additional accuracy.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Shitewell,"
she said, “but I find it difficult to
follow your logic.”
Like most mortals, I don’t like
having my name mispronounced.
“The name is Sitewell," I said.
"Please tell me what is so illogical
about what 1 just said.”
“What would you say is the
greatest problem of the average
player?" she asked. “Accuracy or
distance?”
“Accuracy, of course.”
“Then why shouldn’t the
average player use a stiff shaft for
accuracy, and leave the whippy
club to the professional who ought
to know how to hit a ball straight
and who can probably use the
extra distance? Haven’t you got the
whole thing turned around?" I
suddenly felt homesick.
“Mrs. Meir,” I said, with as
much courage as I could summon
in my dispirited and depleted
condition, “1 really think you’ll do
much better without a teacher.
You’ve thought about this game in
far more basic ways than many of
those who play at if for a living or
who, like me, teach it and write
about it. I have no doubt that
whatever you do will be right for
you.”
“I would appreciate your
resignation in writing," she said.
“After all, I acquiesced to the
urging of my ministers only
because I wanted to do the right
thing by my country. But if the
person they selected to teach me
thinks it is in the best interests of
Israel that I give up the game, then
I am in the clear, am I not?"
And that was the way it ended.
Only when I was in the plane over
the Atlantic did I realize that the
new Prime Minister was a chip off
the old Ben-Gurion block. She
never had any more intention of
going through with the scheme
than he did.
If anything, she outfoxed the
wily old Ben-Gurion by putting
herself in a position where she
could reluctantly withdraw from
the enterprise only because 1 gave
up on it myself, thus relieving her
of any charge that she was
unwilling to serve her country.
Anyway, the project wasn’t a
total loss. At least the Israeli
Tourist Bureau got p golf course
out of it.