FUNERAL ARRANGEMENTS AT BOTTOM OF COLUMN

Bob Goldwater was a beautiful man. Humble, charming, well-rounded and witty, he was the classic gentleman and one heck of a golfer.

That’s something that gets overlooked when Goldwater’s illustrious past is brought up – his golf game.

Sure, through his dogged determination and civic-minded nature he earned the honor of being “The Father of the /FBR Phoenix Open.’’ But as an amateur golfer in this state and beyond, he ranked among the best of his time.

Goldwater, who was healthy enough to stretch his life out for 96 wonderful years before finally succumbing to old age last Saturday at his home in Phoenix, was the runner-up in the 1925 Arizona Amateur at age 15. The following year, he set an Arizona Amateur record that still stands, winning the tournament at 16.

“I learned from my mom (Josephine), who was the state women’s champ at the time,’’ said Goldwater, who took up the game in 1920 at the age of 10. “ ‘Ma’ was a great player, probably the best in the family.’’

That Goldwater also captured the Arizona Amateur on two other occasions in different decades – 1935 and ’50 – shows his depth. That he won the prestigious Southwestern Amateur three times, and beat the No. 1 amateur in the country, Charlie Coe, in the finals of the 1951 Broadmoor Invitational, also speaks volumes.

Today, the Bob Goldwater Cup, which matches the top club pros and the best amateurs in the state, is played in his honor. In fact, the 46th edition of event takes place Nov. 27-28 at Superstition Mountain Golf and Country Club.

Still, there were two golf tournaments that Goldwater coveted even more than the ones he won – the PGA Tour stop he founded in Phoenix and the Bing Crosby Clambake in Pebble Beach, an event he was invited to play in 40 times.

LOVED PEOPLE

My last conversation with Goldwater came in March, when he received an award as Arizona’s Golf Ambassador at the Arizona Golf Association’s annual spring meeting, which was held at Moon Valley Country Club, a course he helped organize and build. Asked to say a few words, Goldwater opted to sing an old Hoagie Carmichael tune, “Huggin’ and a Chalkin,’’ and never missed a word -- or the beat! -- as he captivated his admirers.

His love for people, golf, song and drink preceded him. In fact, it’s what helped him recruit the best players of his time, and why they faithfully returned each year.

Among his closest friends and golfing buddies were Byron Nelson, Ben Hogan, Arnold Palmer and, of course, comedian Bob Hope and the crooner Crosby. Those legendary golfers and entertainers never let him down, as Goldwater cemented the tournament’s foundation.

Believe it or not, he once served as its chairman for 17 straight years (1934-51), a feat that never will be repeated. But that was just Goldwater, whose family owned the clothing store by the same name and whose brother, Barry, ran for U.S. president.

“Barry and I learned the game together as kids,’’ Goldwater said of his older brother by two years. “We thought it was like croquet, and that we were supposed to take turns, so we kept yelling, ‘It’s your turn!’

“Well, that went on for a couple of holes, and then after awhile Barry was a hole or two ahead of me, and we couldn’t hear each other yelling anymore. But Barry was a player, always a couple strokes better than me.’’

In every way, Goldwater was the rock to which the tournament clung in the early days. Players didn’t make much money back then, so fun things like the Phoenix Open, where you could make a little cash and meet influential people, became paramount.

“I remember we, that is the Thunderbirds, used to have a big steak fry down at South Mountain every year, and practically 100 percent of the field would show up,’’ he once told me while we were sunning ourselves on the patio at his home course, Phoenix Country Club.

“It was camaraderie that you would never find (on today’s PGA Tour). And we’d always have a big party at my house for the regulars – make our own music and sing and dance. It was one big family.’’

LIFE IS A PARTY

During that interview, I asked Goldwater about his well-known reputation of being able to party all day and night, and still run the tournament. His eyes welled, as they often did, and then they brightened suddenly.

“Well, I was a lot younger back,’’ he said, slowly unraveling the answer, “and times were different.’’

“But socializing, that was a big part of the tournament. In fact, I think there were only two players who wouldn’t take a drink in those days. Paul Runyan, and . . . I can’t think of the other guy.’’

Goldwater had a sly sense of humor, and somehow managed to stay sharp through his 96 th birthday, which he celebrated last summer on the Fourth of July (his real date of birth) at his other home course, White Mountain Country Club in Pinetop. As always, it was a day of revelry with lots of stories.

But of all the many tales that centered on Goldwater, my favorite was how he got the notorious nickname “Nine Holes.’’ Supposedly, it came about after Goldwater was the victim of an anti-Semitism incident during the late 1960s at famed BelAir Country Club in Los Angeles.

Goldwater had been invited to play, but when he got to the first tee, he was informed by the head pro at the time, Joe Novak, that Jews were not allowed on the golf course. Reportedly, Goldwater said, “Is it OK if I just play nine holes? I’m only half Jewish.’’

As it turns out, the tale was only tall and not true.

“I guess I made it up all of a sudden while I was introducing Novak as the new president of the PGA at their national convention,’’ he said of the “private joke’’ that went public. “All the club pros were there from all over the country, and by the next morning, it was all over the United States.

“It got so I couldn’t go anyplace without people saying, ‘You’re the guy who can only play nine holes,’ and then I became ‘Nine Holes.’ It happened so many times through the years, that it became fact. . . . But it never happened.’’

Years later, at a banquet for the 1980 tournament, the Thunderbirds dubbed him “The Father of The Phoenix Open,’’ a nickname that stuck. Ironically, it is also the perfect epithet for Bob Goldwater, a loveable man who taught us how to throw a party and still get things done.

ARRANGEMENTS

Funeral services for Bob Goldwater Sr., will be held Monday, Nov. 13 at 11 a.m. at Trinity Cathedral, 1 st Avenue and Roosevelt Street. The family has asked in lieu of flowers, please make donations to Trans Mississippi or Hospice of the Valley.