Editor’s note: This history of the first River Cup is excerpted from The River Cup Papers. The Papers consist of some 200 handwritten pages found in the library of his grandfather by Dr. J. L. Moss of Richmond, Virginia, in 1947. Bequeathed to The River Cup Museum, they contain the only known description of the first rendering of the event in 1848 passed down through oral history by an early participant. All other documents tracing The River Cup’s history were destroyed in the River Cup fire of 1989, which consumed The Museum and the many priceless artifacts it contained. The Papers were spared as they had been removed from The Museum for editing shortly before the fire. The footnotes are those of the editor.
Chapter 1: Two Lives Meet
I cannot recall at this time the complete details of the River Cup’s history as it was related to me by my grandfather early in my life. What recall I do have, however, I deem to be sufficiently important as to require its being set down upon paper so that it shall not forever be forgotten. The reader will forgive, it is hoped, any departures from true events should any more contemporaneous history later be found. I know of none and so have nothing to draw upon in my rendering other than memories of my grandfather’s description which over the course of my years have become fainter.
Young Angus MacLeitch, known as such to distinguish him from his father Old Angus MacLeitch from whom he had taken his name, was the scion of a wealthy and well-respected Scottish clan. [Footnote 1]. During his early years in the beginning of the 19th century, MacLeitch entered a career in banking in Edinburgh, Scotland, where his family lived. He was well liked by all in the community for his personable manner.
During his early career in banking he developed a particular fondness for the still fledgling sport of golf, which he indulged on the greensward at the Links of Leith, just outside Edinburgh, where his forefathers before him had played the game. [Footnote 2]. His work suffered mightily as he attempted to hone his meager skills at the confounding game. Even more sadly, he became addicted to the thrill of a golfing wager and lost great sums in this fashion. In addition to this perhaps forgivable shortcoming, MacLeitch also suffered from an unquenchable thirst for the local distillery’s malt whiskey. All of this brought great disgrace on the family’s good name and his siblings, of which he was the eldest male, turned their backs upon him.
Over the course of his middle years, MacLeitch squandered his once sizeable inheritance on the game and failed to advance in his career in banking. Castle MacLeitch, which had served as the clan’s home for centuries and which he had inherited when his parents died, fell into disrepair as more and more of MacLeitch’s inheritance and limited earnings were assigned in the betting books of the Links of Leith to his golfing opponents.
In happier times, before his gambling debts had consumed the bulk of his assets, MacLeitch had taken as his bride a beautiful Scottish lass many years his junior. He was a devoted husband to the young Tully despite his passion for a game which would come to control his life. She, in return, was devoted to him and remained so even when this passion threatened their previously happy life together in Castle MacLeitch.
Despite the family’s worsening financial plight, MacLeitch continued to cling to the one avocation which allowed him to forget, if only fleetingly, the family’s squalor: golf. Forced to sell his fine golfing equipment to pay off his mounting gambling debts, MacLeitch crafted for himself a rudimentary set of clubs. He made his own balls, carefully stuffing feathers into their leather outer shells which he then dried in anticipation of his upcoming rounds. His once fine golf wear became ragged with use when he could not afford to replace it. MacLeitch was a sorry sight indeed when he arrived at the greensward on Saturday mornings to partake in the sole remaining pleasure of his decrepit life. Each Saturday morning, MacLeitch arrived hopeful of somehow escaping from the debt into which he had sunk by betting on the outcome of that day’s matches. Without fail, by the conclusion of the day’s matches the family’s financial condition had worsened as in all of Edinburgh, a golfer of lesser ability than MacLeitch could not be found.
MacLeitch complained bitterly to Tully that if only he could acquire a new set of fine clubs and improve upon the quality of the balls with which he was forced to play, he could most certainly improve his game sufficiently to defeat his opponents and lift the family from its poverty. Tully listened patiently to her husband’s excuses but knew in her heart that there was little hope that his game would ever improve. She also knew, though he tried to hide it from her, that her husband imbibed heavily during the day’s play, as each Saturday evening when he returned he reeked of whiskey and his eyes had been reduced to mere slits from which he could scarcely see. This, she knew, certainly was of no benefit in righting his swing. But Tully, a sweet girl, never complained about the time her husband spent at the local greensward knowing as she did the joy it brought to his otherwise sad life. Tully suffered mightily, but she suffered silently, consoling her wretch of a husband each evening with the warmth of her supple body in the cold dankness of the Castle’s bedroom. This, too, made MacLeitch’s existence bearable.
To survive the almost total depletion of his assets other than the family home, MacLeitch was eventually forced to seek a lender willing to advance funds to him for the support of his family using the Castle as security. Unfortunately, no local banker in Edinburgh, nor anywhere in the environs of Castle MacLeitch, was willing to risk his money on MacLeitch, as word of his vices had traveled throughout Scotland.
Forced to seek a lender outside of Scotland, MacLeitch learned of a man near London who was willing to lend monies to those with whom no cautious lender would deal. Jay Langdon had earned a fortune selling various potions and supplies to the doctors of London. Though centuries removed from the heartless barbers of medieval times, these “men of science” were little advanced in their understanding of the science of healing. They used the wares which they purchased from Langdon in their often-cruel efforts to “heal” the afflicted. Langdon became the largest supplier of these goods in all the British Empire and acquired great wealth in the process. Though not a heartless man, he seemed not to know the suffering his wares caused to those upon whom they were used.
Langdon’s wife, a fetching English woman of high standing wed in her innocent years to the budding peddler, could not bear the constant absence of her husband as he travelled across the Empire to peddle his wares, though she was thankful for the comfortable living it conferred upon them. The beguiling Gaelyn eventually convinced her husband to remove himself from that tiresome endeavor as he seemingly had sufficient resources to support them both for many a year, although her tastes were well refined and required great sums to satisfy. Though Langdon often wished he could restrain her habits, the methods by which she satisfied his nightly cravings for her enraptured him and she was able to get all that she desired of him in this manner.
After several years of living off his previous earnings, it eventually became necessary to enter another form of commerce in order to support the lavish lifestyle Gaelyn craved. To support her excesses, Langdon struck upon the idea of lending his remaining funds to those desperate enough to pay high rates of interest for the use of his monies. A shrewd businessman, Langdon was as successful in this undertaking as in his previous peddling career. He soon became known among his borrowers as Langdon, Jew of London, and he was able to increase his wealth tenfold each year in this distasteful manner without leaving his London flat. He and Gaelyn again were well off, so much so that they were able to purchase an estate just outside of London in the village of Moss-on-Thames, and this served as their second home. This was well suited for Gaelyn, allowing her the opportunity to furnish a new home for the family from the resources her husband willingly supplied her. Langdon was also known as a sporting man with a particular fondness for the game of golf, which he had learned of in a trip to Scotland while peddling medical wares early in his life. [Footnote 3]. Later, when he had acquired his great wealth, he laid out a course emulating the Scottish greensward upon which he had first learned the game on land behind his country estate, with three of the seven holes running along the banks of the Thames.
To maintain the holes in playable condition, Langdon purchased a herd of sheep and hired a sheepherder whose responsibility was to lead the sheep to the course each day for grazing. The sheepherder, an industrious young lad of little intellect, never failed to do that which was instructed and soon became known as the best greensward keeper in all of England. [Footnote 4].
Due to the great wealth he had acquired, Langdon was able to practice his game every day, free as he was of any financial concern. After many years, though, his skills had improved only imperceptibly and the flight of his feathery ball continued to have an unsightly left to right look about it. [Footnote 5]. He nonetheless vainly considered himself the finest golfer in all of Moss-on-Thames. Indeed, he most likely was since very few Moss-on-Thamers engaged in what appeared to most Englishmen of the time as a frivolous and unwholesome undertaking.
To have sufficient numbers of golfers with whom he could engage in his almost daily rounds, Langdon introduced the game to many of his acquaintances, mostly his former doctor customers but also to the solicitors who prepared the notes by which his lendings were accomplished. Eventually, the game became the rage among Englishmen of high standing in their communities, particularly among the doctors and solicitors who had been the first introduced to the game on Langdon’s greensward. In his daily matches Langdon wagered great sums upon himself and due to the ineptitude of his opponents newly introduced to the game, he won a goodly portion of those bets.
As the reader may have surmised, it came to pass that Young Angus MacLeitch and Langdon, Jew of London, became inextricably intertwined in golf’s history by the crying need of MacLeitch for funds and the ability of Langdon to satisfy those needs. Having learned of him from members of the banking community, MacLeitch corresponded with the lender seeking a loan to be secured by the Castle MacLeitch. From his travels in Scotland, Langdon knew it to be one of the finest in Edinburgh, although in great disrepair, and sufficient to secure a loan of a significant amount. As was the case in all his loans, the Jew of London expected to recognize a handsome rate of return on the loan of his funds. Despite the exorbitant return required by Langdon, MacLeitch had no alternative but to accept the terms proffered. After correspondence back and forth, a deal was struck and the loan extended.
Chapter 2: A Wager is Struck
For a period of several years, Tully and MacLeitch enjoyed a period of relative comfort, living off the proceeds of the loan as well as the measly stipend earned each week at the bank where he toiled. His banking career, however, failed to improve and soon the cost of maintaining Castle MacLeitch as well as the cost of his continuing wagering forced MacLeitch to begin paying off the loan from the principal originally extended. One could foresee the consequences: he soon was unable to meet his payments and Langdon anticipated taking possession of the security. Gaelyn as well looked forward to the acquisition of a third family home, which she could furnish to her liking and to which she could repair during the searing heat of the London summers. Langdon called upon one of the solicitors with whom he golfed to institute foreclosure, and being of a somewhat heartless soul himself the solicitor issued the evil papers shortly thereafter.
Upon receipt of the papers, MacLeitch was disconsolate. He feared mightily the loss of the clan Castle. He knew, though, of Langdon’s wagering propensities and in them he espied an opportunity to escape his unfortunate predicament. Believing it more likely his beautiful wife could convince Langdon to enter the appropriate wager than could he, he dispatched the seductive Tully to London to meet with him.
When they first met, Langdon could not help but remark at the beauty of his debtor’s wife. Though faithful to Gaelyn, herself a catch for any man, he allowed himself an occasional lapse into the thought of other women, though always returning to the knowledge that in Gaelyn he had all he could ever desire. Tully knew intuitively that her beauty had struck a responsive chord in her husband’s lender, but gave little thought to it at the time.
She raised with Langdon the nature of her bidding, proposing a golf match between her husband and Langdon, with the winner to take possession of the note secured by Castle MacLeitch. But though he enjoyed a sporting wager, he saw in this no possible gain for himself and thus refused the engagement.
Forlorn at the rejection of the proposal, Tully returned to her lodging to consider her next step. She felt she had little hope of arranging a wager, as her husband had little which could be offered to entice Langdon into a bet which might save the Castle. Lying awake late into the night, a thought struck her which she at first rejected but which she later determined, though against her desires, to be the only chance at salvation.
The next morning, she returned to Langdon’s city flat to make her proposal. He escorted her in and again gazed upon the lovely apparition before him. When asked the purpose of her return visit, Tully gathered her courage and proposed a new wager: if her husband could defeat him in a golfing match, Langdon would turn over the note; but if MacLeitch was defeated, Castle MacLeitch was Langdon’s without further legal proceedings and, further, she would agree to spend an evening of pleasure with Langdon. Devoted as she was to her husband, Tully was willing to wager even her honor on his behalf since she feared Langdon would consent to no other terms. She hoped the impression she had made upon Langdon was sufficient to entice him to undertake the bet.
Having been unfailingly true to Gaelyn despite many opportunities for straying during his travels, Langdon hesitated for a period considering these intriguing terms. He at first resisted his urges, but in a moment of weakness determined such an opportunity was one he could not let pass. Thus, a wager was struck. Tully determined to withhold from her husband the cost at which the wager would come as he would most certainly refuse to put his bride at risk of such a fate were it known to him.
Langdon appointed his trusted sheepherder, Sinkler, the responsibility of corresponding with MacLeitch to establish the terms by which the competition would be staged. After much haggling, it was determined the match would be played on Langdon’s Thames greensward after the harvest time. Sinkler, scrupulously seeking to make the match equally fair to both sides, convinced Langdon to advance funds to MacLeitch to purchase new equipment with which to play the match thus improving his chances of success on an unfamiliar site. Sinkler established the match at seven holes only, once out over the holes laid out. The winner of the greater number of the seven holes played would be declared winner and take possession of the note secured by Castle MacLeitch. (Sinkler, too, was unaware of the true terms of the wager, else he would certainly have taken steps to avoid the indignity to the fair Tully should MacLeitch lose the match.) In the event neither party won a majority of the holes played, the match would be declared a draw and Langdon would take immediate possession of Castle MacLeitch.
Chapter 3: Preparations
With the funds advanced for the purchase of new equipment, MacLeitch searched for the greatest advantage possible. As it happened, a ball maker of his acquaintance had recently developed a new and improved golfing ball, called the gutta percha ball, the manufacture of which was not known beyond the village. He immediately purchased a sufficient quantity of the ballmaker’s gutta perchas for the playing of the match. [Footnote 6]
It’ also happened that a clubmaker in Scotland had begun experimenting with the use of hickory shafted golf clubs with an iron face. The clubmaker scored the faces of the clubs, using a nail to draw lines and then lightly hammered upon them with a ball-peen hammer to further indent the face of the club. This combination of scoring and dimpling was novel for the day, as all other club makers maintained a smooth face to their clubs, and the advancement seemed to improve contact between ball and club. [Footnote 7] It was rumored that these clubs, when coupled with the new gutta percha ball, allowed the player to put spins on the ball by which its flight could be controlled and which, upon landing, caused the ball to stop very near the point at which it struck the ground. This was a vast improvement for the day, particularly as the grounds on which the game was played were rough and thus any ball striking near the hole was likely to bounce away from it in erratic fashion when using the older, less reliable equipment. MacLeitch laid out the remainder of his funds to purchase a set of the club makers’ invention.
With his new equipment in hand, MacLeitch practiced day and night in anticipation of the match. He was soon able to make the ball go left or right at will and he was confident that his new equipment gave him sufficient advantage to save his home (and, unknown to him at the time, the honor of his wife.)
Meanwhile, at Moss-on-Thames, Langdon sought for himself any advantage he might gain. He called upon Sinkler to make every effort to graze the land around the holes severely to speed the motion of the ball across it. When this was accomplished, he practiced rolling the ball across the ground with a flat faced club of his own invention to determine the force necessary to roll the ball to the hole with sufficient speed to reach the hole, but no greater. [Footnote 8] He became quite adept at this after much practice and believed there was no need to seek improvement of his game between the teeing ground and the smooth area near the hole.
After furious weeks of preparation by the opponents, MacLeitch journeyed with his wife to London for the match which would decide their fate. Arriving several days earlier than necessary to become familiar with the area, Tully and MacLeitch spent the days intervening between their arrival and the day of the match by practicing with his new equipment. Soon enough, the day of the match was upon them.
Chapter 4: The Competition is Joined
As had been decreed by Sinkler in establishing the terms of the round, the match was commenced precisely at noon. Sinkler cast lots to determine the order of playing and MacLeitch was called upon to strike first. He struck the ball squarely but the ball landed in a bunker carved out in the middle of the greensward by the sheep used for grazing the land. MacLeitch invoked the deity’s name at his ill-fortune and moved aside as Langdon approached the teeing ground. Mounding up the dirt, upon which he set his feathery for striking, Langdon took a mighty swipe which resulted in his typical left to right shape, with his ball eventually landing barely inside a barbed wire fence which marked the boundary of the property.
Both players trod to their errant balls, accompanied each by their respective spouses who came along to encourage them. Had Gaelyn but known of the true terms of the wager, she would undoubtedly have been less supportive of her husband’s cause. Ignorant as she was of them, she lent him great support hoping to acquire in the process a third family home. The players were accompanied as well by Sinkler, who served each by lugging the leather bags in which their clubs were carried. He also watched carefully the flight of their balls so as ease the task of finding them in the peculiar locations to which they were often transported.
Upon reaching his ball, MacLeitch found it gruesomely sunken in a sheep’s hoofprint. Even his modern equipment was ill-suited to dislodging balls thusly mired, and it required three strokes to remove his ball from the gritty rough sand trodden into small craters by the sheep. He finally found the area near the hole with his fifth stroke and completed play of the hole in seven.
Langdon was able to swing at his ball though it was preciously close to the fence defining the properties. His next stroke sent the ball even further right, eventually landing it in the property of the adjoining land owner. It lodged in an overgrown area wherein it may still reside, for all we know, as it was never found that day. Sinkler, who had become by default the arbiter of any disputes as to the course of play in unusual situations, allowed Langdon to play another ball from near the first’s original spot with an addition of one stroke as a penalty. Langdon bashed this one again right of, but nearer, the hole. His sixth stroke got his ball to where he could employ his flat faced club and he was able to salvage his seven with a deftly performed stroke which dropped the ball into the earth. Thus, no advantage was gained by either player on the first hole.
The second hole was a short one and MacLeitch obtained an immediate advantage when, having calmed his nerves sufficiently to control his stroke, he was able to apply a pleasing right to left flight to his gutty which struck and danced on the closely grazed ground, coming to rest very near the hole dug from the earth. His opponent, unnerved by the control applied by MacLeitch to his new-fangled ball, struck his now obsolete feathery poorly and could never recover from the deficit his initial stroke left him. One up for MacLeitch.
The third, fourth, and fifth holes were uneventful, with neither player gaining any advantage upon the other. On the sixth hole, however, Langdon overcame his poor ball striking and was able to reach the close hewn ground near the hole in only one more stroke than that required of MacLeitch. MacLeitch played the long hole magnificently, as the combination of the new ball and clubs allowed him to move the ball as necessary to follow the terrain upon which the hole was set out. Bending his ball around two curves in the path to the hole, he was able to reach the area near the hole in three strikes of the ball. Langdon required four but was confident of his ability to negotiate the remainder of the distance to the hole in fewer strokes than his opponent. Indeed, his confidence was well placed as MacLeitch failed to account for the speed with which the ball rolled upon the closely grazed land. Never in his golfing on the Links of Leith had he seen a ball roll so far with so little input from a club. He rolled his first effort further from the hole than the position from which he had started and took two strokes after that to complete his negotiation of the hole. Langdon, agile from the hours of practice with his flat faced club, stroked the ball into the hole on his first effort. All square.
Chapter 5: The Match is Decided
The seventh and deciding hole was a wondrous and anxious sight indeed to behold and one can only wish that a means of recording the events had been available at the time so as to allow us at this late date to watch it unfold. It cannot help but be remarked in advance of its recounting that the play would have been most comical but for the gravity of the wager dependent upon its result.
Langdon struck first, furiously lashing at his feathery (of which he complained loudly after seeing the new ball with which MacLeitch was advantaged) which took off on a flight of great height and duration but little distance, landing not far ahead of where he stood. Tully MacLeitch, watching from behind her husband, let out a muffled sigh of relief and prayed that her husband could take advantage. MacLeitch strode purposefully to the teeing area, placed his ball on a mound of dirt, and struck. A gloriously long and curving flight resulted in the ball landing in an accommodating spot midway between tee and hole. Seeing the handsome result and wishing to encourage her husband by letting him know again of her devotion, Tully whispered softly to her husband “you’re the man that I love.” Sinkler, standing nearby, overheard only the beginning of her soft words but was touched by the bond between the two.
The competitors and their supporters removed to their respective balls, Langdon reaching his well ahead of MacLeitch given the short distance it had travelled. He again took a mad swipe at the feathery, sending it on an ugly path only slightly off the ground and directly to the right of where he stood, striking a cow grazing in the vicinity unaware of the danger posed by the curious looking human swinging at the dirty round orb. [Footnote 9]
Langdon stalked to the offending ball and for a third time attempted to direct it to its ultimate destination. His third attempt was more successful than the first two, although little improvement was necessary to achieve that result. It flew off at an angle on a path to a large spreading tree which it struck squarely, causing the ball to cease its motion adjacent to its trunk.
Tully and MacLeitch watched these events with glee, believing themselves in good position to escape with the family home (and, in Tully’s thoughts, from the potential shame she had agreed to.) But as pride goeth before the fall, glee at a competitor’s misfortune goeth before tragedy. MacLeitch’s next stroke started off on an appropriate path, but he had failed to account for a quickening breeze which gained hold of the ball in mid-flight, directing it on a course for the nearby river. Tully’s heart sank as the ball rolled down the bank and into the river, although the water in which it finally immersed itself was only several inches deep.
It was now MacLeitch who found himself in jeopardy. He pondered agonizingly over the appropriate course of action and finally decided upon an effort to dislodge the ball from the water by striking at it with a lofted club which would hopefully allow him to reach a more playable area of the course. But upon striking at the ball, the water displaced by the path of club was visited upon MacLeitch’s person and, more unfortunate still, the ball retreated deeply and irretrievably into the murky waters of the Thames. Seeking instruction from Sinkler, it was ruled that MacLeitch could drop another ball upon the ground near the point where the first had entered the river, adding one stroke to the three he had already taken. This on a hole which by its appearance should have required no more than a total of four to complete.
It was still MacLeitch’s go, and he moved quickly to the new ball which he had placed on the ground near the river, seemingly desirous of punishing it for the indiscretions of its now drowned brethren. Tully, sensing the possibility that her husband’s state of mind might lead him to abandon a true effort at completing the hole in the fewest strokes possible, decided to reveal to him the full extent of the wager she had struck in the hope that this would focus his mind upon the gravity of the moment. Upon its revelation, MacLeitch was enraged by the thought of such a ghastly fate for his beloved spouse, but touched by the devotion of his wife to have entered into such a bargain.
But Tully’s decision to reveal the fate which hung in the balance proved correct. Now realizing the true cost of the match, MacLeitch resolutely gathered his wits about him in an effort to concentrate upon the immediate problem which lay ahead of him. Trying as best he could to give reign to his emotions, he studied the trajectory required of the ball to enable it to reach an area near the hole with his next stroke. A stand of stately trees had interposed itself between him and the hole, and MacLeitch was unsure that his clubs could deliver the ball to the necessary height to scale it. He was also unsure whether even the advanced clubs in his bag could put sufficient spin on his gutty to bend it around the trees. Ultimately, he decided the latter to be his only hope of nearing the hole.
Recalling the many hours of practice which had made it possible for him to shape the ball’s flight to his desire, he took a club from the bag and struck a blow intended to send it on a left to right path around the stand of trees, the only available route to the hole. After an agonizing few seconds during which the ball seemed intent on flying in a straightaway path, the spin applied to the ball took hold causing it to careen sharply to the right, bouncing short of the hole but running up very near to where MacLeitch had intended. This, the most important shot of his golfing career, had been executed perfectly by MacLeitch. Sinkler, overcome by the success of the shot under such trying conditions, repeated loudly the words he had overheard Tully whisper to her husband, “you’re the man!”, leaving off the final words of her earlier incantation which had not been heard by him. [Footnote 10]
MacLeitch swelled with satisfaction as he realized that he had placed himself in position to save the Castle MacLeitch, preserving it for the enjoyment of future generations of MacLeitches, and that his wife Tully could still cling to the hope her indignity at the hands of Langdon could be avoided. But as he strode past the stately willow oaks trees which had previously posed a looming menace to his home and his wife, he knew from the tragedy which had befallen him just moments before that while now past the trees he was not yet out of the woods, as Langdon had a difficult though playable position from which to approach the hole.
He watched tensely as Langdon fidgeted over his ball, attempting several times to establish a position from which he could strike at the ball which was lodged precariously close to the tree of which we earlier spoke. In the course of his fidgeting, he struck a twig which had the effect of slightly displacing his ball. After much effort he found a stance accommodating to the lie of the ball and struck his feathery to within a short distance from the hole. Thus, it carne to a contest between MacLeitch and Langdon as to who could complete play in the fewest strokes on the closely grazed grass around the hole, as both had reached the same proximate location in four strokes.
MacLeitch had the first swipe at it and his ball approached the hole swiftly as he had again failed to account for the speed of the ground. It caught, but just barely, the edge of the rough hole dug in the ground and this stopped its course shortly thereafter leaving him within makeable, but trying, distance.
Tully and MacLeitch knew that all rested on Langdon’s next stroke. MacLeitch now lay five, with a chance at best of six. Langdon lay four and seemed destined for five. They feared the outcome as Langdon had proven himself in earlier play to be a sorcerer with his flat faced club, the likes of which they had never before seen. Langdon stood over his ball briefly and then placed a gentle stroke upon it, sending it upon its course to the hole. It crept softly to the hole and dropped gently over its edge, coming to rest at its bottom.
Tully and MacLeitch looked at each other sadly, without speaking, realizing the magnitude of their loss. Langdon attempted to restrain his satisfaction in deference to the ill-fortune which had befallen them, but could not help but let a brief shout of joy erupt. Gaelyn gave him an immediate embrace and looked forward to her first visit to her new possession.
Chapter 6: Salvation
Standing nearby, Sinkler was confused by the scene unfolding. “Langdon, that’s seven for you by my count,” he half-stated, half-inquired. “Five only by mine,” was his employer’s reply. “And a penalty of two for the ball’s movement as you selected your stance on the previous stroke?” “A penalty of one only if that be your point,” an irritated but contrite Langdon conceded. “But sir, you failed to replace your ball in the position from whence it had come, and in fairness you must incur the additional stroke’s sufferance for striking the ball from a lie other than that given you by your previous stroke. [Footnote l1]
Realizing his sheepherder had fairly determined the appropriate penalty for his indiscretion, Langdon in a fashion befitting the sport that he was conceded the error, thus allowing the opportunity for MacLeitch to grasp from defeat a victory of great import. MacLeitch lying five now was required to complete the short but treacherous distance from his ball to the hole in one stroke to gain victory. His eyes lingered momentarily on Tully as she cast him an encouraging glance. He hovered over his ball for a moment when from behind him he heard Langdon invoke words most sweet to a golfer’s ear, “Pick it up, sir, ’tis well enough done to satisfy me.”
Tully and MacLeitch looked on in some disbelief, but indeed their former nemesis revealed himself in this moment to be a man of great honor. And in the moments which followed, Langdon’s agreement to the wager most foul was forgiven, as MacLeitch knew his wife’s beauty was such that no man could have resisted the opportunity presented. Tully for her part understood the temptation she had visited upon Langdon and owing to her forgiving nature also looked past his weakness in light of the sportsmanship shown at this most critical juncture.
Gaelyn never learned the full terms of the wager and would appear to be the greatest loser in all of this, as her heart had been set upon the Castle MacLeitch. But Tully, recognizing this, offered her the run of the Castle during the summer months if Gaelyn would desire it. To this she quickly consented.
Chapter 7: The River Cup
So our story has a happy ending. Perhaps happier than the reader yet knows. For in the years to come, the MacLeitches and the Langdons became fast friends. Langdon established MacLeitch in a position of responsibility in his lending endeavors, charging him with the management of his Scottish enterprise. MacLeitch convinced Langdon of the error of his past ways and Langdon agreed to the establishment of fair rates of return on his lendings.
MacLeitch prospered in this new position and, understanding the great shame he had brought upon his family’s good name, he undertook to abstain from his wagering vices and became exceedingly moderate in his use of spirits. His family, seeing the transformation in him, reconciled with him and came to live in Castle MacLeitch, which was restored to its original splendor with the aid of Gaelyn. Tully brought joy to her husband’s life when she delivered to him a daughter of exceeding beauty and he showered his women with great love for the remainder of his years.
For his part, Langdon became a respected member of the financial community. With the assistance of MacLeitch, his enterprise prospered and he was able to maintain Gaelyn in the fashion she deserved. She bore him a fine son who took his father’s name and who carried on the family business when his father retired to spend more of his days on the greensward of his country estate. Each year, the Langdons took advantage of the kind offer of hospitality extended by Tully on that fateful day, summering at the Castle MacLeitch.
In recognition of the match which had brought them together, the MacLeitches and Langdons established an annual ritual, replaying their original match at alternate sites each year: in odd years upon the greensward at the Links of Leith; in even on the course at Moss-on-Thames. Over the years, it became a competition of great rivalry and they elected each year those from among their acquaintance who merited inclusion in its playing. The trusted sheepherder Sinkler was invested with the responsibility to see the matches were conducted on terms fair to all and for his devoted service was eventually granted a playing position in the matches, though his abilities for the game were scarce worthy of such.
A cup from the country estate of Moss-on-Thames was established as the stake for each year’s rendering and came to be called The River Cup. Their descendants continue this tradition today in the new world, where by good fortune they have settled in close proximity so as to allow its continuance. Though changes have been made in the conditions under which the matches are now conducted, it is nonetheless the direct descendant of the outing described above wherein the MacLeitch family’s future was restored by the sporting gesture of Jay Langdon of Moss-on-Thames.
Footnotes:
- MacLeitch was born sometime between 1810 and 1815. There is no known historical documentation of his birth.
- MacLeitch’s great-grandfather, Archibald MacLeitch, was a charter member of the first private golfing club, The Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers, which played at the Links of Leith. Established in 1744, it predated by some ten years the founding of the Society of St. Andrews Golfers.
- It is believed that Langdon was introduced to the game on the links at North Berwick, a seven hole course which was among the first links courses in Scotland. His seven hole course remains today and is known as The Thames River Course, although its greens are currently unplayable. Funds for the restoration of this historic course have been set aside and it will be opened for limited play in the mid-1990’s.
- The young sheepherder, a member of the Scottish Sinkler clan, had migrated to London when he could find no work in the village of his family. He had no formal training in the science of golf course maintenance or construction, although in his youth he had watched the men who kept up the greenswards of St. Andrews, Scotland, from whence his family came. He is credited with many improvements in the science of course construction. His most notable achievement was the invention of the flagstick, used to mark the location of holes to which golfers played. When first employed by Langdon, he was used as an aiming point for his employer and despite the proclivity of Langdon to miss his mark to the right on most occasions, it was not uncommon for his ball to strike the young Sinkler as he stood near the hole. This led Sinkler to invent a less hazardous method by which the golfer’s target could be identified. It is suspected that the pelting of Sinkler by Langdon also caused considerable brain damage to Sinkler, which is believed to be the cause of the strange and erratic behavior exhibited in his declining years.
- In an effort to prevent the unsightly left to right flight of his ball, Langdon sought to cure this defect by placing small nicks in the covers of his feathery balls with a knife. Langdon had noticed that when balls with nicks on them were struck they behaved differently than smooth balls. This failed to improve the ball’s flight, however, and in fact exaggerated its left to right tendencies. His fellow golfers began mockingly referring to this shape as a “slice” due to their belief that it originated from the nicks, or “slices”, he had carved into his featheries. This nomenclature for a left to right ball flight is directly traceable to Langdon and remains with us today.
- The ballmaker had nothing with which MacLeitch could carry the balls and, as his kilt had no pockets in which to place them, he was forced to stuff the balls down the sleeves of his shirt to transport them home. Balls are now traditionally sold in boxes of three, referred to as “sleeves” in recognition of this event.
- The clubs, called “dings” for the markings made by the ballpeen hammer, were thought by some to give unfair advantage to the limited number of golfers who could acquire them. Made entirely by hand by a sole craftsman able to properly score and dimple the face of the clubs, few sets were available and much controversy erupted among the golfers unable to acquire a set. MacLeitch is reputed to be the first golfer to use a set in competition.
- Sinkler encouraged his employer as he practiced with this new flat faced club by pointing at the hole and calling out “put her right here.” Eventually, this admonition was abbreviated as “put ‘er here.” Soon, the two began referring to the club as a “putter” and it has been called such ever since.
- The cow was struck in the right hind leg, or “shank,” and this term has been bequeathed upon the ball flight described above. It is considered to be the most offensive of golfing ills, and its father, Jay Langdon, was afflicted with it throughout his golfing career.
- His incantation, often understood at far distances as ”you ‘da man,” is still heard at competition sites around the world, though mainly in the United States. Its first utterance at the match described herein causes consternation among descendants of the original competitors as it is the only tradition begun by their forefathers considered to be disruptive of the game.
- Sinkler, considered by some at the time to be a sniveling sort due to the unctuousness with which he pronounced his rulings, later became recognized as an authority on the conditions under which the game should be played. He was introduced by MacLeitch in later years to the Captain of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews and for many years thereafter served as advisor to the R&A in its efforts to establish uniform rules for the conduct of the game worldwide.
The River Cup 