That stutter.
It’s been 40 years, but Craig Stadler still hears that stutter.
“Y-y-y-you m-m-make it and I-I-I’ll take it.”
That was Ben Bussey’s signature line. He said it throughout 72 holes of the 1982 Masters – and one playoff hole, for good measure. You make it and I’ll take it.
The guidelines went as followed: Stadler was to make the putt; Bussey’s duty was to retrieve the ball.
When the duo conquered the field, they walked off No. 10 green, Bussey’s left arm around Stadler’s back. Neither knew it would be the final time Augusta National caddies would be a staple during Masters Week.
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Members embraced caddies despite decision
So, how’d it happen? How did a 46-year tradition of all Black caddies, an etched-in-stone policy of Chairman Clifford Roberts, get overturned? Inside the caddie barn, blame remains directed at Hord Hardin.
The St. Louis lawyer-turned-banker earned the title of acting chairman when Bill Lane fell ill in the late 1970s, and eventually was named Augusta National’s third chairman in 1980. Two years into the gig, on Nov. 12, 1982, a story made headlines: professionals would be allowed to bring their desired looper to Augusta.
Forty years later, few original Augusta National caddies are still living. Stovepipe, Pappy, Fireball, Eight-Ball, Iron Man, Cemetery and Willie Peterson are all deceased. Bussey suffered a stroke during the COVID pandemic and is confined to a Richmond County care facility. Yet a handful remain active and healthy, and have an unwavering opinion of 1982.
Jariah “Jerry” Beard, who piggybacked Masters rookie Fuzzy Zoeller to the 1979 jacket, spends his days slapping balls at Augusta Municipal. The local kid worked his first Masters in 1957 and said the majority of caddies relied on two annual events to pay bills: Masters Week and The Jamboree, a three day member-member bash held each March.
“The club is closed all summer, so caddies depended on those events to make ends meet,” Beard said. “Clifford Roberts always had our back. Mr. Roberts made sure we were taken care of. But when Hord Hardin took over, he turned his back on us real bad.”
Prior to Roberts’ death in 1977, Beard would occasionally caddie in the same group, and it wasn’t uncommon for the chairman to toss a putter to an employee in a white jumpsuit.
“We’re on No. 8 green and Mr. Roberts asks me to putt,” Beard said.
A stunned guest watched in disbelief, prompting Roberts to say, “How the hell do you expect him to learn the greens?”
Buck Moore began caddying at Augusta National in the early 1960s and remained in the profession for 55 years. He’s retired now, lives in Augusta, and holds a rare distinction of knowing each of Augusta National’s seven chairmen.
When current leading man Fred Ridley qualified for the Masters after winning the U.S. Amateur in 1975, Moore was assigned his bag.
“I’ll say this about Fred Ridley,” Moore said. “Fred Ridley was a real nice person. He treated me well. Sometimes people look nice on the outside but ain’t worth (it) on the inside.”
When it comes to Augusta’s chairmen, Moore reflects with esteem on the tenures of both Roberts and Jack Stephens, who replaced Hardin.
“Jack Stephens was one of the finest men out there,” Moore said. “Mr. Stephens and Mr. Roberts cared about us as people. They respected the caddies. Hord Hardin didn’t treat us like they did.”
After 1982, Moore said the membership at Augusta National would help recoup the difference. And none assisted Buck quite like University of Arkansas athletic director Frank Broyles. For 15 years, Moore handled Broyles’ bag, and the days weren’t easy. Broyles would tee off at daybreak and walk 27 holes before arriving at the patio for lunch.
“Mr. Broyles would say, ‘Eat on the fly,’” Moore recalled. “And then we’d get in carts and ride 27 holes in the afternoon.”
One day. Fifty-four holes. But if you played in a group with Coach Broyles, a hefty tip would follow.
“I was his right-hand man,” Moore said. “After the golf course closed in May, about two weeks later he’d send a $500 bonus check. He was a helluva man. He played well, tipped well, and treated caddies with great respect.”
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Marion Herrington carried Seve Ballesteros to victory in 1980 and, after spending his first 70 years in Georgia, recently retired to Charlotte with his wife, Peaches. Herrington started looping at Augusta National in 1962 and last caddied for amateur James Driscoll at the 2001 Masters. When asked when everything changed, Herrington’s answer is direct: 1982.
“The policy that Mr. Roberts believed in was written in gold,” Herrington said. “It was never supposed to change. But Mr. Hardin allowed Tom Watson, Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer to get to him. I actually felt sad for Mr. Hardin because a lot of members objected to that change.”
For Herrington, losing guaranteed income during Masters Week added hardship on his family. After his mother died, the caddie struggled to provide for his three children. But, similar to Buck Moore, club members had Herrington’s back, none more than Minnesota business leader David Lilly.
After learning of Herrington’s situation, Lilly approached his personal caddie with an order.
“Mr. Lilly said, ‘You tell Peaches to go pick out a house and I don’t care what it costs,’” Herrington said. The caddie nodded with appreciation, but soon learned that he was eligible for an allowance through the GI Bill.
“I told Mr. Lilly, ‘I don’t need a house but sure could use a discount on a lawnmower.’”
Lilly, the president of Toro Company, had a machine delivered. “Mr. Lilly said, ‘Marion, we’re friends. Friends are supposed to help each other out.’”
In 1991, as Augusta National prepared to close for the summer, Lilly informed Herrington that he was taking a bone fishing trip to the Florida Keys and they’d reunite when the club reopened in October. Marion wished him luck, and was caught by surprise when Augusta National caddie master Freddie Bennett phoned the last week of May.
“Freddie calls and says, ‘Mr. Lilly’s here at the club,’” Herrington said.
There had been an executive committee meeting at Augusta National, where it was determined that Jack Stephens would succeed Hord Hardin.
“We were walking up No. 1 fairway when Mr. Lilly told me what happened,” Marion said. “I don’t believe in holding grudges, so I’m not bitter at Hord Hardin. But things got a lot better for us under Jack Stephens.”
Cold day leads to cold shoulder
Herrington, Moore and Beard may pinpoint Hardin’s reign as the turning point, but the 1982 players have opinions, too. Specifically, 7:30 a.m. Friday, April 9.
The dominos began to topple the afternoon before. Thursday had been a day from hell. A steady rain, coupled with near-freezing temperatures, forced play to be suspended at 4:23 p.m. The round was officially postponed at 5:30.
In a day-and-age when players left clubs at Augusta National, it wasn’t long before the bag room reached capacity. The racks filled first, and once those were taken, bags piled like cordwood, many dripping from the downpour.
“I’m watching the pile grow and thinking, ‘Oh no, they’ll all be wet in the morning,’ ” Carl Jackson said.
Jackson, who began caddying for Ben Crenshaw in 1976, took Gentle Ben’s bag into the dry and unoccupied member’s pro shop. He wiped off each grip and placed the bag in a merchandise closet.
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He arrived before sunrise Friday and, as he walked to the practice range, noticed white men shagging balls for competitors.
“I just remember how angry the players were,” Jackson said. “It was so chaotic. I’m looking around and I didn’t see any of my boys.”
Jerry Pate, winner of the 1976 U.S. Open, called upon his brother, Scott, to collect balls when caddie Sammy Tankersley was behind schedule. PGA champion David Graham asked Mike Sanders, his banker from Dallas, to perform similar duties.
As the clock ticked towards 7:30 a.m., Tommy Bennett, who was caddying for Andy North, was stranded on the corner of Fleming Avenue and Wheeler Road, waiting for his ride. Bennett didn’t have a vehicle, and by the time he arrived at the course, North was carrying his own bag.
“Everybody was running and cussing,” said Bennett, who took the bag from North shortly before 7:30 a.m. “The tee times were at 7:30 but we needed to be there at 6:30. That was the worst day of golf I ever remember. I knew we had messed up bad.”
Jackson and Bennett place the blame on transportation and communication. When play was called on Thursday, caddies were cold, wet and tired, and once they dropped their bag off, they fled the course.
“When I arrived Friday morning, (caddie master) Freddie Bennett was hot,” Marion Herrington remembered. “He said, ‘Y’all are gonna mess around and blow it.’ ”
And that’s what happened.
A year later, Bennett asked when Andy North would arrive for the tournament, but the two-time U.S. Open champion was bringing his own caddie. Nicklaus kept Willie Peterson for another year before pulling the plug. Beard, who won the tournament with Zoeller, was let go in 1983.
“Jerry did a great job for me,” Zoeller said. “He was never late, and deserves credit for what happened in 1979. But Mike Mazzeo was my regular caddie for 18 and a half years. Mike was family. I’m supposed to tell Mike he can’t come to Augusta?”
Fuzzy delivered the news the week of the 1983 Masters.
“I never asked Fuzzy why he did that,” Beard said. “I’ve got my pride, too. But I know what I did for him and he paid me well for it.”
Of the 76 players at the 1982 Masters, only Crenshaw stood by his caddie long term.
“I had the best one out there,” Crenshaw said. “No chance I was letting Carl go.”
For Jackson, he never forgot Ben’s loyalty, while a curiosity lingers as to why other players didn’t have a similar mindset.
Between 1977 and 1982, Tom Watson and caddie Leon McCladdie won twice and placed second two other times. Yet after the Friday incident, Watson wrote to Hardin requesting a policy change. He touched on Hardin’s legal career, asking how the chairman would feel if he wasn’t allowed to pick a secretary on his most important case.
Hardin sided with Watson, who never won another jacket. When asked if he regrets not keeping McCladdie, Watson said, “No, absolutely not. I wanted the caddie I relied on most.”
In his Nov. 12, 1982, press briefing on the decision, Hardin stated that while Augusta National had numerous elite caddies, they did not have the quantity to complete an 80-player field. Hardin believed that Bobby Jones, if alive, would have sided with him. He did not mention Cliff Roberts.
40 years later, Stadler embraces caddie Bussey’s role in win
Friday, April 9, 1982, can be summarized in six words: weather, miserable. Players, angry. Caddies, tardy.
Even Craig Stadler has mixed feelings about the week. Three months before the 2022 Masters, Stadler sat alone in his Jacksonville, Fla., home. His second wife, Jan, died in June after an eight-year battle with ALS, and the Walrus – for the first time in his life – was by himself.
“I absolutely hate it,” he said. “It just sucks. Some days are better than others, but it’s been very tough.”
Stadler mentions time. He says the 1960s feel like a million years ago and the 1990s seem like yesterday. 1982 is somewhere in between. Stadler shot a front-nine 33 that Sunday and led by six with nine to play.
“I don’t remember a single shot from my 33,” he said. “But I can tell you every one from my back-nine 40.”
And he did, starting with the poor lie in a bunker at No. 12. He failed to get up-and-down on 16. He three-putted Nos. 14, 15 and 18. After blowing the cushion, Stadler lowered his head on the 18th green and silently asked himself, “What the hell have you just done?”
Waiting for Stadler in the playoff was Masters rookie Dan Pohl, who entered the week hoping to play well enough to be exempt for next April, yet when Stadler three-jacked 18, he found himself in a sudden-death playoff for the jacket.
Pohl went 31 years without returning to Augusta, but was convinced by friends to return in 2021. He entered the grounds on Thursday morning, and before any player made the turn, Pohl walked alone down the 10th fairway.
“I thought about two things,” Pohl said. “First, ‘My god, this place is beautiful.’ Then I stopped where my drive landed in 1982. I thought about my six iron, and I could still see it drifting right.”
Forty years later, Pohl claims he tied for first instead of finishing second. He then released a half-serious laugh and said, “I think Augusta should have a dinner for all the runner-ups. Kite, Norman, Weiskopf. It’s a damn good list. Maybe they’d let us wear a green vest?”
As for Stadler, when asked about his victory, he admits, “I mostly felt bad for Dan.” After the awards ceremony, Craig’s first wife, Sue, became nauseous at the winner’s dinner hosted by Chairman Hardin. “I was worried about my wife,” Stadler said. Sue was pregnant with Christopher, their second child.
The Walrus had reminisced for 75 minutes. Through it all, there hadn’t been many laughs. But then he pivoted to Ben Bussey.
Bussey was tasked to read every putt at the 1982 Masters – holes 1 through 73. Craig noted his second-nine stumble and said none of the blunders belonged to Bussey.
“I questioned him a few times,” Stadler admitted. “Then I realized why I shouldn’t question him.”
Stadler asked Bussey to return for 1983, but the duo split the following April. The Walrus then broke into a thoughtful laugh, saying, “I’ll never forget that stutter. He’d say, ‘L-l-l-left edge.’ I’d say, ‘You sure?’ He’d say, ‘Y-y-y-yes sir.’”
You make it and I’ll take it.
This article originally appeared on Augusta Chronicle: Augusta National phased out local caddies after chaotic 1982 Masters