Is the Golf Hole the Right Size

Safely ensconced in the 19th hole the conversations often turn to the state of the greens and the state of our putting. On a great day the hole can appear to be the size of a bucket. On other days we just can’t buy a putt. But is the hole the right size? If it was a different size would golfing history be changed? It is fun to speculate.

Imagine a slightly bigger hole. Would Doug Saunders have holed that ‘easy’ downhill three-foot putt, with a left hand borrow, on the last green at St Andrews to win the 1970 Open? It is a moment etched in the memory, which was described by Henry Longhurst as a ‘tragedy’ before he sighed ‘and there but for the grace of God.’ Would Tom Watson, 59 years young, have won his sixth Open at Turnberry in 2009? The list of crucial missed putts is endless and we will never know.

If you imagine a slightly smaller hole then that iconic Tiger Woods moment on the 16th at Augusta in the 2005 Masters might never have happened. It looked like the ball might come up just short, displaying the Nike logo for a perfect split second, but another half rotation was sufficient for it to catch the lip of the cup and drop. Queue fist pumping, ‘in your life, have you seen anything like that?’ commentary and presumably a massive party back at Nike HQ.

Through different eras, the size of the ball has not changed much for obvious reasons and it must have been a major influence on the size of the hole. The ball dropping below ground level into a hole is an essential part of the game but in the past the hole could be a different size on every hole let alone on different courses.

In the early 19thC the holes were cut by hand without any special equipment meaning that the hole size varied. It was cut using a dinner or other knife and sometimes a small earthenware or metal pot was used to cut around. If there wasn’t a pot then it has been suggested that a circle was cut around a clenched fist allowing some leeway for the sleeve of a jacket. (1) The size therefore depended on what was used. The diameter and depth of the hole changed over a few hours based on the turf conditions and on wear and tear. The practice of scooping sand by hand from the bottom of the hole to form a tee mound and then driving off within one to four club lengths of the hole cannot have helped its condition either. Horace Hutchinson, presumably with tongue firmly in cheek, paints a wonderful picture of players lying on the green to scoop out sand at arm’s length. (2) This meant holes became unplayable or even unidentifiable if grazing sheep had perhaps trampled them flat. Cutting a new one fell to the first players out who found a hole untenable (2)

Those greens, such as they were, identified themselves by the natural topography of the land. They were not distinct from the rest of the course nor specially prepared. They were often simply clearings or flatter dunes selected for their prominent position and well grazed turf. Before mowers and rollers were used they were at best areas cut with scythes by hand. Arriving there and surveying the scene, the option of simply cutting another hole – no doubt nearer to our ball -must have been sorely tempting. If your ball was ball stymied then even more so.

The game was very different then. There would be less of a premium on course strategy at least in terms of the greens. No one would be strutting around plumbing lines or trying to determine the subtle borrows, breaks and direction of the grain. The concept of a ‘putting green’ was relatively new until it made its first appearance in 1812 without definition, before being defined in the 1815 Aberdeen code as being within 15 yards of the hole. (3)

How did these earlier players know where to aim especially with a feather acting as the hole marker? Regular players would have used local knowledge and forecaddies waving flags to indicate direction would have helped. (3) Many courses such as Musselburgh only had 7 holes until an 8th was added in 1834 and a 9th in 1870. But the idea of a feather marking the hole on a windswept links is amusing. In 1828 Blackheath indicated that once the hole could be seen no one need stand near it to identify its position or for direction. The flagstick doesn’t appear in any early club rules until 1875 at St Andrews. (4)&(5)

As the game evolved and grew, course maintenance also improved and expectations changed meaning putting increased in importance. Early Greenkeepers were referred to as hole cutters because refilling holes and cutting new ones had now become an important task. The condition of the ‘green’ mattered more.

By 1857 the situation had improved considerably at least at St Andrews. Not surprisingly, it was Old Tom Morris who introduced sperate teeing grounds (6) although there is a reference to ‘golf stones’ in 1781. (7) This was probably to speed up play and to protect the greens. Coloured flags had also appeared and the greens had been re-turfed and overhauled (8)

Although putting must have been important the first instructional book on the topic did not appear until 1920 when Willie Park Junior’s ‘The Art of Putting’ was first published. Park was a renowned putter and twice Open Champion. The first written description of the golf swing was in Kincaid’s diary in 1687 (9) but putting is not mentioned.

The 1850’s and 60’s were a time of rapid change in the maintenance of golf courses with things like Shank’s newly developed grass mower. More attention was being given to the condition and durability of the holes. Hole liners, first mentioned at Montrose in 1825 were in use. (3) Old Tom Morris claimed to have invented metal cups to line the holes at St. Andrews sometime around 1847 with the High Hole the first on the Links to have a sheet-iron case put in to keep it in proper shape (6) So players were obviously beginning to notice and to complain about the state of the holes. Old Tom probably influenced decisions elsewhere because in 1874/75 Crail Golfing Society agreed to use 8 iron rings to protect the holes during the season. It would be interesting to know what diameter those rings and cups were. (3)

At Musselburgh in 1829 the state of the holes had become an increasingly important concern because of the growing number of players.

Presumably the March 1929 ‘Rules to be Observed’ were written before the invention of the hole cutter that same year as there is no mention of the hole size in them. Their concern over the state of the holes was however obvious:
‘Rule 2d. The green shall not be dug up for a tee, nor shall turf, sand, or clay, be taken from any part of it, within ten yards of the hole .’ (10) ‘In the club minutes of 1829 “Sergeant Scott is directed to “pay more attention to forming the holes and that he be occasionally on the Links when matches are played”. ‘They also state that ‘the Secretary was authorised to pay Robert Gay’s account for the instrument for forming the holes, the sum of £1.00.’

‘Unfortunately, there is no mention in the minutes of the order given to Robert Gay (a local blacksmith) so there is no way of knowing why he designed the device in the way he did.’ Gay was also a publican and adjuster of weights and measures, working from his forge at 83, High Street.’ (12)

Gay invented and produced an instrument that would cut holes that were 4¼ inch in diameter. He must have been given some instruction about size or had some local knowledge. Like many of these things there is myth mixed with fact surrounding the invention including the idea of it being based on a standard soil pipe that was either lying around in the workshop or out on the links. We may wish he had used something bigger but would it have been accepted? Whatever the truth, the diameter of hole it cut in time became the world standard.

‘There is no proof of this but it is likely that this size of pipe, which is commonly used in the building industry, was the predecessor of what is now a British Standard. In part of this Standard, a nominal 4 inch pipe has an outside diameter of approximately 4¼ inches.’ (12)

The original hole cutter that Gay produced exists to this day. It sits in a floor level glass display cabinet in the clubhouse of Royal Musselburgh Golf Club alongside one of the earliest golf bags full of hickories. Sadly, for something of such worldwide golfing significance, there is no interpretation.

Gay’s invention was not patented and it was copied. The earliest patent for a hole cutter appears to be in 1894 (30) . There have been many patents lodged since although the basic design has changed little. Gay’s hole cutter has its own story.

‘It was made in 1829 and kept in constant use until the 1860s, when it was acquired by an un-named friend of Harry Wood. (author of ‘Golfing Curios and the Like’). This friend kept the cutter in a ‘lumber room’ and used it to cut practice holes on his lawn. In the 1890s, the friend gave the hole cutter to Harry Wood ‘knowing of his craze for the acquisition of golf relics.’ It remained in Wood’s collection until 1908 when he presented it back to the Musselburgh Golf Club.(by now The Royal Musselburgh Golf Club). For this generous gesture, he was given honorary membership of the Club.’

It must be assumed that because the original hole cutter was out of use from the 1860s onwards many replicas were made and used by other clubs. Sadly, there is no record of these but their very existence would have undoubtedly helped to establish the standard of 4¼ inches for the diameter of the hole.’ (12)

The hole cutter cannot have solved all of the problems. By the time that ‘The Regulations 1834’ appeared, there was still with no mention of the hole size but they did have an amendment to include further instructions about the role caddies must play in helping to protect the greens.

Rule 2d. ‘The turf of the putting green shall not be raised up for a tee nor shall sand or clay be taken from any part of it; and no Caddy shall be employed who does not carry a bag with moist sand or clay for the tees.’ (11)

Musselburgh had standardised the cutting of its own holes in 1829 and other clubs followed suit but the first recorded mention of a rule or definition for the size of the hole was not until 1886 at The Royal Isle of Wight Golf Club, and it was for a smaller hole.

‘The Holes are circular, four inches in diameter, and about six inches deep; lined inside by an iron pipe, to preserve their shape, the upper edge of which should be half an inch below the surface of the ground. There should be a small flag in each, to mark its position; white going out and red coming in.’

They also prefaced their rules by calling for ‘a unified set of rules for all golf clubs.’ They were not the only club asking for this. ‘in 1885 the secretary of the Royal Wimbledon G.C. wrote to the R&A urging them to ‘form an association of clubs bound to accept one uniform code of rules.’ (13)(14 footnote 2)

The condition of the hole might have been improving with tins, hole cutters, teeing grounds and better maintenance of greens but until standardisation in 1891 there is evidence of confusion based at least on perception, if not fact, about the size of the hole. Those variances in the diameter of the hole from one course to another, according to various sources, might have been as much as 2 inches!

Larger holes were mentioned at Royal Aberdeen where they were obviously keen to speed up the game because they became the first to introduce the 5 minute limit on searching in 1873. (15). Their minutes refer to the use of 6 inch holes (3)

‘Peter Davies cites an 1858 newspaper article that refers to a six inch hole’ (16) Others with apparently bucket sized holes included Luffness where ‘a fair player will generally hole out from any distance short of three yards’ (17). At Carnoustie and Perth (for centuries) the holes were thought to be over 4¼ inches. (18) At St Andrews they were 4 to 4½ inches depending on which source you read (18) (19) ‘We believe them to be all wrong in their estimates. The correct size of the hole is 4½ inches.—EDITOR (20)’

Smaller 4 inch holes are mentioned and specifically at Sandwich where they ‘added at least 5 strokes per round’ according to one correspondent’ (17). ‘Mr Robert Forgan, a St. Andrews player, also stated in his handbook that ” the holes are about 4in. in diameter,”’ and the same description of the size of the hole was given by the late Capt. Eaton , of the Royal Isle of Wight Golf Club’ (20) ‘When Mr H. B. Farnie, for example, wrote in 1891 his interesting little text book of instruction on the art of how to play the ‘ game, he declared that ” the holes are about 4in. in diameter The Badminton volume dealing with the game defined the hole as the ” 4in. hole lined with iron”’ (20) (21)

Pouring over old golf photographs or golf paintings sadly does not provide solid evidence of the hole size. There are too many caveats for paintings especially. The initial sketch may have been done on site and finished off from memory in the artist’s studio. Although there is one photograph from around 1860 and one painting that does appear to show a hole that looks huge. As chance would have it, it was of players at Musselburgh. (22) (4) & (23)

It was 31 years after the first Open Championship was held, when the R&A adopted a new code of rules on 29th September 1891, making the 4¼ inch size hole mandatory.

‘Rule 3: The hole shall be 4¼ inches in diameter, and at least 4 inches deep.’(24)

There are no reasons given in any of the R&A Club minutes of the time or in any other related archives as to why they chose 4¼ inches as the standard diameter. However, by that time for most, but not all clubs, this would not have changed anything. Quite why it took fully 62 years from the introduction of Robert Gay’s hole cutter at Musselburgh to create a standard hole size is unknown. By that time the original cutter had been replaced. It may have been related to the R&A’s role rather than debates over the hole size. There was no governing body until the R&A took on the mantle in 1899 and beyond.

The timing of 1891 is interesting and may suggest a conspiracy theory about whether the R&A knew in advance about the impending switch of the Open from Musselburgh to Muirfield. This was the first Open to be played over 72 holes and it was announced unexpectedly in 1892. More likely it was due to a general improvement in the quality of the greens and simply a confirmation of current custom and practice. Stroke play was becoming more popular and having different sizes of holes at courses would not do. Scores were becoming better as the quality of the courses, clubs and balls improved. In match play the stymie rule remained in place, with revisions until 1952 when it was finally abolished. It was also in 1891 that the first golf shoes were introduced with spikes that you could screw in. (25)

Despite the hole size being standardised it is interesting to note that there was no mention of a hole liner or tin or of its depth until September 1908, although these were clearly in use at St. Andrews and presumably elsewhere.
Definition 11 ‘The hole shall be 4¼ inches in diameter, and at least 4 inches deep. If a metal lining is used it should be sunk below the lip and its outer diameter should not exceed 4 and a quarter inches.’ (26)

The depth of the hole matters but that rule change came too late for a player at Bishop Auckland Golf Club whose putt from less than six inches struck an upright socket in the bottom of the lining and sprang out remaining on the lip of the hole to be holed. (5)

Not every club had hole liners or tins
‘Many links, especially those to which the general public had access, had no tins in the holes at all. A hole was made by the greenkeeper with the cutter, and, as a rule, the depth of it. was so shallow that a strong putt into it caused the ball to come out again. In the course of play, moreover, the iron flag was placed loosely in the hole, and was allowed to fray the edges, and considerably widen the dimensions of the hole beyond those originally fixed by the greenkeeper’s cutter. It must have been one of the most expensive items in the bill for green-keeping to provide a supply of tins with which to build up the hole and keep it rigid The first object upon which boys and gipsies exercised their predatory talents was the tin in the golf hole’ (22)

Those variances in the size of the hole were still the subject of discussion several years after the 4¼ inch hole had become standard.

There are many golfers playing to-day who must remember the diversity of practice that prevailed in those earlier years. ‘Some golfers will remember that when they played on their own green the size of the hole was fairly commodious, but that when they journeyed to another green in the same district the holes appeared to be very much more restricted in circumference.’ ‘(19)

‘nearly every golf green on both sides of the Border had holes on their putting greens which varied in size from those on neighbouring greens to the extent of an eighth of an inch. In the one case the holes were very difficult to putt at, or in the other case that they were so large that it was almost impossible to miss them at any distance (22)
‘Why they fixed four and a-quarter inches instead of four and a-half. I am strongly of opinion that the latter was, before 1891, the usual size ref’ (18)
‘As a general rule the prevailing trend of golfing opinion seemed to favour a hole which should be 4½ in. in diameter (19)

Some have continued to argue for a different hole size but the standardised hole diameter stuck despite various arguments in support of both bigger and smaller holes. Those in favour of a bigger hole often cited speed of play as the main benefit. The change in ball changed size from 1.62 inches in diameter to 1.68 which the R&A made mandatory at 1974 Open does not really feature in the story. Those advocating for a smaller hole claim it would help to protect older and shorter courses and would create more excitement although quite what it would do to speed of play is anyone’s guess.

Over the decades since standardisation of the hole size there have been several experiments using different sizes.

In 1933 Gene Sarazen, argued for an increase in the diameter from 4¼ inches to 8 inches. He reckoned that the bigger hole would see many more single putts from the top players from within 15 feet whilst the poorer player would still often two putt from 25 feet. His theory was put to the test at Tampa. Florida, which decided its annual open competition would have eight-inch holes and at the Miami-Baltimore Country Club open event they decided to try what became known as the ‘big bucket.’ They played the event using a six-inch diameter cup. Paul Runyan’s winning 266 was a whopping 25 strokes better than the winning score on the same course the previous year. What the big bucket proved is that the best players will shoot the best scores.

Many top players disagreed with Sarazen
J. H. Taylor, “In my judgment the hole is large enough to bring out the best skill of the player.” Sandy Herd ” Americans are always doing something upset the game. If they want benefit the skilful putter then make the hole smaller.” Charles Whitcombe, the British Ryder captain 1931” I think Sarazen’s suggestion absurd,”

Perhaps Sarazen was simply the master of publicity. Sarazen was a guy you listened to. His opinions meant something. In The Story of American Golf, Wind wrote ‘Gene had an understanding of publicity superior to that of any of his colleagues.’ (27 )

There is no evidence that, Ben Hogan advocated for larger holes. Some of his peers considered Hogan to be the greatest putter of all-time. But there were times when Hogan was putting so poorly he said he was embarrassed to be watched by spectators and even suggested getting rid of putting entirely. “I have always contended golf is one game and putting is another.” (28)

Jack Nicklaus had different reasons for experimenting with a bigger hole. In 2011, at Muirfield Village, the 12-hole tournaments played to 8 inch holes. Nicklaus wanted to encourage faster play and also try something different to attempt to attract new players to the game as well as retaining those already playing the game. Players were required to finish their rounds in 2½ hours. (29)

No stranger to putting woes or new formats of golf, Sergio Garcia played in a 9 hole Hack Golf in 2014 event to introduce a 15 inch cup. He was joined by Justin Rose. The aim was to create an easier, faster, more fun alternative to attract new people to the game. The results were a little surprising. Garcia shot 6 under, Rose 3 under and there were plenty of chip ins. In the main 18 hole event, amateurs fared better. Rounds took 3 hours and 45 minutes to complete on average and some golfers showed a 10-stroke improvement with plenty of “hero” shots: One woman chipped in seven times, another man shot a gross 58. (30)

In conclusion
We may never know the full truth behind why the hole is the size that it is. Those days when it seems to be the size of a bucket are, for most of us, sadly few and far between. The size won’t change, unless in fun events, but we could perhaps learn to change our perception of the size so that it looks bigger on the course. A psychological study as recently as 2017 looked at this. (31)

Some players subscribe to the theory of perception by putting to a smaller hole in their practice. Irish, golfer Jimmy Bruen the 1946 amateur champion and Walker Cup player was one of them. What was his secret? David, the second youngest of his six children, said in 2020 ‘he had the driving range and the putting green which he built himself … it had only one hole, with the contour delivering every conceivable type of putt. Interestingly, the hole was smaller than the normal diameter of 4.25ins, which meant that when you went to the course, the standard hole looked like a bucket.” (32)
 

REFERENCES:

1.David Stirk ‘Golf. History and Tradition 1500-1945’ extracts published in Through The Green (golfcollectors.co.uk) June 2001 ‘Why Four and a Quarter Inches?’ by Tony Barnie-Adshead page 31
2.The Project Gutenberg eBook of ‘Fifty Years of Golf’, by Horace G. Hutchinson
3. https://crailgolfingsociety.co.uk/blog/the-hole-story
4.Through The Green (golfcollectors.co.uk) March 2022 Evolving Rules: The Flagstick Michael Sheret reviews historical rules and definitions. (Image: Driving within the requisite number of club-lengths from what appears to be a very large hole, circa 1860)
5.Reference On the Putting Green (ruleshistory.com)
6.Tom Morris of St Andrews The Colossus of Golf 1821-1908 at Chapter 43 David Malcolm and Peter E. Crabtree 2010 ISBN:978:0-85790-107-1
7. https://www.scottishgolfhistory.org/oldest-golf-clubs-societies/1780-royal-aberdeen-golf-club/#Stones
8. Reference – https://www.scottishgolfhistory.org/origin-of-golf-terms/coloured-colored-flags/
9. Kincaid T. An Edinburgh diary (edited with introduction and notes by HW Meikle). Extracted from the twenty-seventh volume of the book of the Old Edinburgh Club, December 1949. Edinburgh;1954.
10. http://www.ruleshistory.com/rules1829m.html
11. http://www.ruleshistory.com/rules1834.html
12. Through The Green (golfcollectors.co.uk) September 14 ‘The Hole Story’ Michael Farmer
13www.ruleshistory.com/rules1886.html
14. Through The Green (golfcollectors.co.uk) 2022 Evolving Rules: The Hole Michael Sheret
15. http://www.royalaberdeengolf.com/
16. Peter Davies The Historical Dictionary of Golfing Terms from 1500 to the Present
17. The Field, in 1888
18. Golf – Tuesday 24 July 1894
19. 1906 Saturday 07 July in Field & “Golfers’ Handbook 1881,” Mr. Robert Forgan
20. Golf 4th September 1891
21. The Badminton Volume Horace Hutchison The Badminton Library of Sports and Pastimes – Golf (1890)
22. 1904 Saturday 03 December Field
23. Photos and Art appearing to show larger Holes: Water colour by William Douglas (British 1780-1832), painted in 1809. ‘Two boys with golf clubs and a dog on Old Musselburgh Links
24. http://www.ruleshistory.com/rules1891.html
25. http://www.golfhq.com/blog
26. http://www.ruleshistory.com/rules1908.html
27. 1933 Monday 23 January Dundee Evening Telegraph & the_hole_truth_about_the_big_bucket.pdf (weebly.com)
30. https://www.golfcompendium.com/2022/01/ben-hogan-eliminate-putting.html
31. A Labor of Love – Nicklaus Design
32. https://www.golfwrx.com/202387/hackgolf/
33. Skinner Monier Williams GB189404586TA·1894-03-05 Putting to a bigger hole: Golf performance relates to perceived size – PMC (nih.gov)
34. Jimmy Bruen was among the best golfers to grace the game on these islands – Independent.ie

There and Back Again – Tucker Travels PART TWO

My Great Granddad, James was born on the 6th June 1880 to David (a rope maker) and Helen Tucker. He had two brothers, Andrew and David. Andrew was sadly killed by a sniper near Ypres (Wipers) in 1915. His name is in the Great Book of Remembrance at Edinburgh Castle. There was no grave but a circle of headstones now mark the spot.

James married (Margaret Docherty) in 1990, perhaps in a shotgun wedding, as in July that year their youngest, Lisa was born. This was the year before the great walk. They lived in a crammed flat in the Fountainbridge area Granddad John (Jock) arrived in 1902 and William (Willie) came along on 1904. Lisa sadly died from Appendicitis. About two years later, Margaret died and as he couldn’t look after 6 year old Jock and 4 year old Willie, they were taken into an industrial home.

The quiet gentle man that was my Great Granddad was a hard strong man in his youth who liked a drink and possessed a quick temper. He was brought up near the West Port in Edinburgh.. At age 11 he became an Apprentice Mason. He must have kept this up for a few years because in 1910 he was walking to Corstorphine daily from his married home in Freer Street (7, 8 & 9) near the canal to help in the building of Edinburgh Zoo. Perhaps it was that lengthy walk that caused him to return to the family trade of rope making. James also got into a few scrapes but could hold his in a fight. One story has him being accosted by two Italians who picked on the wrong man and were laid out cold.

He served in the Royal Scots in Belgium, France Egypt and Palestine enduring many long marches. When the British took Jerusalem on 17th December 1917 he was outside the city. He claimed that only the officers were allowed in but my Uncle George has been to Jerusalem and explains that the extremely narrow streets were probably the reason. James said he had a gun and used it without ever knowing if he hit anyone. He said he’d told them that he had only one good eye and was met with the response ‘that’s ok, you close one eye to shoot!’
He often told a story that some relative had allegedly gone to India and taught a Maharaja’s son to play cricket thereby building a great bank book. He had died of dysentery or cholera without a will so the Tucker family couldn’t get hold of the money. This was however a fairly common story at the time.

In later life he would take his military experience and shine the brass buttons on his grandsons’ Boys Brigade uniforms so well that the Tucker boys were singled out for looking the smartest.

But in 1901 he went for a walk.

The Glasgow International Exhibition of 1901 took place at Kelvingrove Park between 2nd May and 4th November. It took place during a period of half mourning requested by King Edward VII following the death of Queen Victoria. Interestingly, Charles Rennie Mackintosh’s designs for the major exhibition halls were rejected, perhaps for being too different.

Working men all over Scotland were encouraged to visit the exhibition. Perhaps some incentive was given. James and his pals set off for their day out, most probably from Haymarket station to Glasgow Queen Street station. New Waverely Station and the North British (NB) hotel wouldn’t be completed for another year which was to be the year that first Ibrox disaster happened and Edinburgh rivals Hibs last won the Scottish Cup. Trams were cable pulled and horse drawn as the first electric ones were a decade away as were the building of the Usher Hall and Edinburgh Zoo. Edinburgh was only half the population it is today.

11.5 million people attended the exhibition including 173,000 on the last day. We will never know if young James was one of them! The weather during the period of the exhibition was excellent with prolonged spells of sunshine. This no doubt increased James thirst. That thirst was duly quenched and in his inebriated state he managed to become separated from his pals. I admit to having been in a similar state on occasion but my decisions to walk home were usually due to feeling a bit too worse for wear to be comfortable on a bus and not being willing to pay for a taxi. The furthest I ever walked was around 6 miles arriving tired, sometimes soaked and suffering sore feet and legs the next day. James had 44 miles in front of him. He knew the Union Canal which connects at Falkirk to the Forth and Clyde Canal so he probably took that route.

I have tried many times to imagine that walk and the sights and sounds my Great Granddad would have encountered. There would have been some hours of darkness even in mid-summer unless there was a full moon. Certainly there wouldn’t have been any orange glow of street lights and it must have been extremely quiet once out of the city. Cars were few and far between so he could hardly have hitched a lift. There were no planes overhead either. As daylight broke whilst he trudged wearily along he wouldn’t need to look for a sight of Arthur’s Seat to tell him he was getting closer. He would be able to smell Edinburgh before he could see it.

Perhaps he spent or gambled away his money or lost his ticket home. Whatever the truth, he was alone in Glasgow in the early evening with a working day ahead of him.
Somehow he made it back but with feet so severely blistered that he missed several days work with no pay!

Key:
(7) Corpy- City of Edinburgh Corporation
(8) Lobby – a hall, foyer, or waiting room at or near the entrance to a building.
(9) Ginger – a term used for any carbonated soft drink, probably derived from Ginger Ale or Ginger Beer
(10) Ben the –inner part of house; in; inside; into; through; within
(11) Scullery -a room in a house traditionally used for washing up dishes and laundering clothes, or as an overflow kitchen when the main kitchen is overloaded
(12) Bunker – kitchen work surface.
(13) Freer street – Freer Street has long gone. It was off Fountainbridge, just west of where Fountainbridge used to go over the Union Canal. it is almost in the centre of the following
map from the 1890s. http://maps.nls.uk/townplans/view/?sid= … &layers=BT It was probably demolished in the 1960s while the breweries were expanding in that area. The new Freer Street development plan that can be found online looks like it is proposed to be approximately on the site of the original Freer Street. http://cc.tollcross.org/Home/planning-and-development/new-freer-street-fountainbridge (Note: Another coincidence? On the day that I added this information I went for a look at the canal and parked with my daughter briefly in this exact street at Edinburgh Quay!

(14) Old photos of Freer Street http://www.flickr.com/photos/sixtiesedinburgh/6878824592/in/set-72157630492780496 http://www.flickr.com/photos/sixtiesedinburgh/6867277016/in/set-72157630492780496
(15) Freer Street was a small street off Fountainbridge, at the bottom of the street was Freer Street Terrace where the tenement windows looked onto the canal basin. Also there was a mission hall which belonged to St Cuthbert’s Church on Lothian Road. Fountainbridge was a very busy street then. The Rubber Mill, McEwans Brewery, Mackies Sweet Works and Isa Wass, Rag and Metal merchant, and many different shops to serve everyone’s needs.
Further Notes:
Great Glasgow Exhibition 1901:
This was the second of Glasgow`s great exhibitions. It built on the theme of the 1888 International Exhibition – manufacturing – and the colossal Industrial Hall was the exhibition`s main building. This sat on the southern side of the River Kelvin alongside the newly completed Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum.
There were a number of foreign pavilions and, while some of these were from parts of the British Empire, others were from places like Japan, Persia and Russia. All of these structures were temporary buildings but the two Sunlight Cottages were designed to be permanent and they still stand in their original place in the park.
As well as being educational in many ways, the exhibition also had lots of amusements, ranging from musical events to the Canadian Water Chute. There were also gondolas plying the River Kelvin.
The outstanding features of the Exhibition were its Industrial Hall with a great golden dome on which a Statue of Light ‘floated’, with only the great toe of her right foot resting on the dome; the Concert Hall, with its magnificent organ later transfered to the Art Galleries; the electric lighting and the electric lifts; a gondola in the Kelvin with two gondoliers from Venice, known in Glasgow as Signor Hokey and Signor Pokey; a “Sunlight Cottage”, showing how people were to be housed in the future, and some international pavilions, notably seven organised by the Russian Government as a gesture of friendship to Great Britain, but built so slowly that they were first opened six weeks after the rest of the exhibition.
Web References:
http://patlibros.org/gie/showprd.htm
http://www.studygroup.org.uk/Exhibitions/Pages/1901%20Glasgow.htm

There and Back Again – Tucker Travels PART ONE

Excitedly, I bounded up the steps to Gran and Granddad’s front door at Saughton Mains Drive, Edinburgh. Mum, Dad and my big sister, Jenny lagged a few paces behind. It was Friday 30th December 1966 and I was 6 years old.

I don’t remember how we had travelled from Glasgow but as we didn’t have a car I guess it must have been by train and then a ‘Corpy’ (1) maroon and white bus from Haymarket station. It would have been a number 3, 33 or a 22 which took us to the stop at Calder Road, near the scary prison. I had pressed my face against the window of our train carriage compartment looking out excitedly for the first site of Arthur’s Seat which would tell me we were nearing our destination.

Everything in Edinburgh was different, exciting and usually windy. It was like entering an enchanting world, full of strange smells and fascinating people who spoke with a strange language. Glasgow could have been on a different planet. Years later I’d marvel at how medieval romance combined with 18th century elegance all in a 360 degree turn of your head. At age 6, all I noticed was that it smelled different. It was a sweet intoxicating hop filled air that seeped into your nostrils; left you slightly light headed and stayed in your system for days after you left. This came from all the breweries in the city centre. I loved it! I had always assumed this was why it was called Auld Reekie until I learned years later it was so called because of the coal and wood fires whose chimneys spewed thick columns of smoke into the air. Ten years earlier the Clean Air Act of 1956 had begun to address that.

I had complained on the short walk from the bus stop and been told ‘stop moaning! Just remember, your Great Granddad once walked all the way from Glasgow to Edinburgh!’ That silenced me.

I was scrubbed up for the visit, all blue eyed and innocent with my red hair combed slickly over my freckled face. I had my ‘Hunting Chisholm’ kilt on, which had been acquired for Dad’s youngest brother, George’s wedding earlier that year. That was the day England won the World Cup. It was the only unfortunate incident that day. On top I was wearing my huge grey jumper that Gran had knitted for me and which probably wouldn’t fit for another 6 years.

The door opened and there were Gran (or Ma as she was called) in her blue apron (or was it a blue housecoat?) and Granddad with his red braces and glasses. ‘Get a haircut’ he said, which was his usual greeting, as I squeezed inside the ‘lobby’ (2) I think only a military crew cut would have done it. I pushed ahead into the living room where Great Granddad was seated on a big armchair, next to the roaring coal fire puffing contentedly on his pipe. He was a gentle old man but I don’t recall him saying very much. The air was like a wild sea full of waves of blue smoke that hovered and danced over my head. The Geraniums and other plants by the big single glazed windows fought vainly to replenish the oxygen. Occasionally he would hack up some phlegm and spit it into the fire where it sizzled. On the beige tiled mantelpiece I was fascinated by the coloured plastic milk Co-op milk tokens.

In those days milk was delivered by horse and cart, a practice which continued until 1985. My Granddad worked alongside Tam Connery senior at the North British Rubber Mill and knew him fairly well but didn’t ever claim young Tam (Sean) delivered his milk. Bond, as he was to become was probably too busy delivering for the hundreds of thousands of others who did claim he was their milkman.

In the living room, my eyes took in the semi circular glass cabinet by the door which had a lovely old wooden clock on top of it. It was full of wonderful glass treasures and photographs. Gran and Granddad’s black and white wedding photo was always my favourite. He looked so smart in his suit and she looked like a 20’s flapper girl.
Once we had settled, Granddad took us over to the drinks cabinet. He was very proud of that. The curved wooden door folded down and a light came on as if by magic with a mirror behind reflecting the glasses. He opened and closed it a few times much to our delight. It seems strange to remember how this amused us. For a bit of fun a family member once either removed the light bulb or taped down the switch. Granddad opened and closed the door not quite believing why the light wouldn’t come on until everyone fell about laughing.

We were offered a glass of ‘ginger’ (3) in strange glasses with a frosted finish. Jenny and I giggled as we sat on the big orange sofa bed sipping our drinks, the bubbles going up our noses. When we’d finished Gran told us to put the glasses ‘ben (4) the scullery’ (5) on the ‘bunker’ (6).

They had a black and white television back (the BBC didn’t start transmitting in colour until the following year). We didn’t have a television just yet so it was magical watching it. Patrick Troughton had just taken over from William Hartnell as the second Dr Who. I was also excited about seeing Andy Stewart, in the White Heather Club. I loved ‘Campbeltown Loch’ when Dad’s friend Drew used to play it on an old record player, especially the bit where he sang ‘its the polis afloat on a dirty big boat.’

Whilst the adults chatted, Jenny and I ate at a green card table which had been laid up specially. Gran was always bustling around and when she stopped to eat it was on her own just inside the kitchen door in a corner at the table next to an open shelved pantry. I always found that peculiar but when the men of the family came home to eat they had little time so she bustled about serving their food and grabbed her own when she could. This then became a quaint habit.

Later the men headed out to the pub but not before great Granddad had slipped us half a crown to get a ‘slider’. The Silver Wing, which is still there to this day, was the favourite hostelry. By all accounts it was a real ‘spit n sawdust’ kind of place. Mum once had to discreetly intercept a bar of chocolate that Great Granddad had brought back for us because it had been nibbled at the edges by mice in the bar.

Gran went outside to fill up the coal bucket from the bunker and we heard the magical tinny tune of the ice cream van nearby. Later we had a bath in the freezing bathroom that always smelled of carbolic coal-tar soap. A paraffin heater took some of the chill off.
When the men returned Great Granddad took us up the creaky stairs to his room see his coin collection which he kept in little gold box. Like many previous generations of Tucker’s he had been a rope maker so it was no surprise when he gave me a rope bag he had made to put a football in. Years later that became my bedroom for my first year at Heriot Watt University.
Jenny and I slept in the next room in a huge big bed with a separator down the middle which we always fought over. It always ended up nearer my side than hers. There was a cardboard box in the corner of the floor which contained bags of sugar, toilet rolls and tins of soup. This was presumably a hang over to the days of rationing, my Gran never really believing that the St. Cuthbert’s Co-op wouldn’t one day run out.

New Year’s eve and Hogmanay (Auld Year’s Night) provided an excuse for Great Granddad to make his annual statement to us. He peered down at us with a twinkle in his eye and said ‘I just saw a man with as many noses on his face as there are days left in the year!’ Jenny and I had bizarre images pop into our heads of a man with a face full of noses until he laughed and said ‘there’s only one day left in the year!’
Hogmanay didn’t really start until late afternoon with the arrival of Dad’s younger brothers, John and George along with Aunt Heather and Aunt Wilma. John, the electrician, was busy fixing something in the kitchen. George, my Godfather and the baby of the family, with his cheery rosy face and lilting Invernesian accent was bemoaning the fortunes of the Hearts who had been beaten at home 2-1 by Motherwell. (Rather bizarrely, as I write this, the 2013 Hearts team have just lost 2-1 away to Motherwell!). The previous season 37,275 fans at Tynecastle had witnessed Hearts losing 2-0 to Kilmarnock to miss out on the first division championship by 0.04 of a goal under the old goal average system. It was a few years later before I saw the light and became a Hearts fan after following Jock
Stein’s Celtic in my youth.
The Tucker men were all Hearts fans having lived for many years in a small crammed flat with a toilet on the landing, in McLeod Street. Great Granddad had been taken in to live with them in 1940 at the age of 60 when his 2nd wife died during the war. The new Tynecastle High School now marks the spot. Many new houses were built after the war and when the rent in McLeod Street was going to double to 14 shillings a week in Gran had persisted in pressing for a move. Saughton Mains Drive in 1950, with its indoor bathroom and 3 upstairs bedrooms must have seemed like another world.

We were allowed to stay up for ‘the bells’ and Dodd and his wife from next door came to first foot with a lump of coal and a piece of black bun. Dodd wasn’t exactly tall dark and handsome, more yellow haired with deeply nicotine stained fingers. A few years later I recall him sitting with us playing with a zylophone which had been advertised on TV by Rolf Harris. The drink was flowing and old Scottish songs were being belted out. Gran did her rendition of ‘The Bonnie Wells O’ Wearie’, Dad sang a song about ‘looking for job with a sky high pay, a four day week and a three hour day’ whilst Granddad gave us ‘Do you take this woman for your lawful wife.’ We still have an old tape recording somewhere of Granddad singing one New Year.

Tucked up cosy in bed, with a ceramic hot water bottle the walls reverberating with the singing from downstairs I thought about my Great Granddad walking from Glasgow to Edinburgh. Like Dad and his brother’s before me, it was to be a few years before I found out the truth behind that famous walk.

Key:

(1) Corpy- City of Edinburgh Corporation
(2) Lobby – a hall, foyer, or waiting room at or near the entrance to a building.
(3) Ginger – a term used for any carbonated soft drink, probably derived from Ginger Ale or Ginger Beer
(4) Ben the –inner part of house; in; inside; into; through; within
(5) Scullery -a room in a house traditionally used for washing up dishes and laundering clothes, or as an overflow kitchen when the main kitchen is overloaded
(6) Bunker – kitchen work surface.

THE GAME

Hold closest to you
That which you cherish
Hold dear
That which you want
For you want not nor need not
Except in your mind

When it comes to you
In a blinding flash of glory
Like the morning sun
Rising over the bay
And the waves lapping onto
The sandy shores of
Yet another summer’s day
Think hard then

I thought of you then
Did you really follow my drift?
Was I in your mind too?
Or were you just playing with time?

You only mean to me
Exactly what I want you to mean
But I will never try to change you
It is now or never
Perhaps I always wanted it that way

Anyway I’m happy
if you are happy too
That’s all there is to say

Play the game longer
If it is a game
If it’s more than that
Time will tell us
But hold me close
As I do you
And let’s live through it all
Just for the hell of it.

OBEY

This way please
Keep to the left
Follow the arrows
Can’t you read the signs?

This way please
Do as I say
It’s a single file world
Follow the leader

You played it often enough as a child
But you followed then for fun
Each daring further than before

Can’t you play it for real now
Or is blind obedience
Not part of your game?

This way please
There’s no way back
You’re too far in now
The doors have closed

This way please
I’ll control your life
Don’t think for yourself
I know what’s best for you
Just do as you are told

Up the stairs
Past the No smoking sign
Private doors – no way in
Ushered into a room
Partners in crime

Into an office
With all the other fools
Soon you’ll be taught
To live by their rules

REMEMBER?

Yesterday, I seemed a million miles away
Lost in a timeless cloud of tiredness
You were there too somewhere in that dreamy mist
Though I couldn’t tell the year

If you find yourself wondering someday
How come it all went so fast?
Perhaps it didn’t really
Wasn’t it just a moment
Dreamt in some other lifetime?

The chasm created by that single thought
Expands my mind
And I can’t think clearly now
Yet as my mind plays on this
I find that I’m still here
And only minutes have passed

I’ve soared over years thinking of days
Seconds in a life short lived
Yet full of opinions
And other peoples experiences

Time probably only exists
If it is measured
But otherwise doesn’t happen

There has to be an answer
Because it is just too basic
Meeting by walking to where we already are
Or communicating
By saying what we already know we mean

Our whole lives cant possibly be meant
To do only the simple things of living
From day to day
Thinking of past fun and future pleasures
But never reaching now

Because now is not a moment in time
It is always only now
Never yesterday or tomorrow
So time can’t exist
Can it?
Because we are standing still

So what is moving if time is stationary?
Billions of minds in billions of heads
Forming ideas that don’t mean anything
And fall only to be scorned by those
Who can’t see their true destiny
Because there isn’t one

I thought as I came into today
That I’d gained a thought I could hold
And finally understand
But I woke to find
That I’d been here all the time.

THE CLOCK

Midst the cloudy consciousness of my mind
A bell rang
Somewhere in the night a clock chimed twice
Turning, I tried to hide beneath the blankets
But was smothered by my anguish

Friend, you gave me hope
And in return
I gave you my depression

Mother gave that knowing smile
And said it would be worth it in the end

The tears
The pain
The humiliation, keeping me from sleep
The nights are my only day now
As I try desperately to build a future

The clock apologetically cried three
And a gull landed on a far off island
Safe from the shoreline flock
It will wait
Though it can’t tell why

The blankets provide me no shelter
From this pain
So rising
I cross the room to my window on the world
And watch the night

I see a child on a hilltop
Laughing freely
It was all so easy then
Not knowing
Or caring

Many miles from here a timing device
Is set in yet another bomb
Whilst the timing device nearby
Shouts four

Mother gave that knowing smile
And said it would be worth it in the end

Shall I please them or
Please myself?
Why don’t I know
The right thing to do?

Happiness is in the future
Work for it now
Will it be worth waiting for?
Why do some die still waiting for that day
Never knowing why
But blindly led by the beliefs of others?

You would tell me to listen to my mind
If only I could hear it cry my truth
But it is obscured by the tales of others
And the scream of five!

Friend you know it will be worth it
In the end
I sleep and let time heal.

I WISH

I wish
I wish I was

If I was
I would be
Not were

Then I’d be free
And I’d be me
And all the smiles I’d give
Would all be true
And the life I’d live
Would be just for you

Red Bull, Vodka, Russian Women Pole Dancing and Pool

My waking thought was ‘did last night really happen?’ Even through the mosquito net the morning sun was assaulting me square between the eyes and I became slowly aware of a fur like foreign object in my mouth. It eventually dawned on me that this was indeed my tongue. Meanwhile, my head was dancing to a strange tune of its own and my eyes were burning. I attempted to move and regretted it immediately. I remember you. Long time no see I told my hangover. It took a few alka seltzers, several coffees and a further nap in the Polish sun to even remember how to walk. Steve was even worse for wear and it took most of the day to piece the previous night together. But what a night it was.

It was the summer of 1999 in Warsaw, Poland. Steve was Finance Head of a major oil company’s Eastern European operation. He and his wife and family had the use of a beautiful 4 storey apartment on the outskirts of the city. I had known Steve since University days in Edinburgh. We lived near each other as students about 3 miles from Edinburgh City Centre and often made the semi sober walk or jog home together whilst singing ‘Thunder Road’by the Boss. I was now coming up for ‘life beginning at forty.’ We were nearing the end of a long relaxing family holiday when he delivered the news. ‘We have a free-pass and we are going out with a crowd of ex-pats tonight.’

He had told some pals that his buddy from Scotland was staying and needed a good night out. ‘Leave it to us’ they had replied, so he did. That was how about ten of us started our evening, by drinking pints of Murphy’s Ale in an Irish Themed pub whilst a Polish Band played Irish Folk Music and performed a mini river dance. It was quite bizarre.

After several pints, one of the ex-pats led the entire bar in a very bad rendition of ‘the Fields of Athenry’ and my new Polish /Irish buddies and I sang along heartily bedecked in green and gold. The drinking munchies started to kick in so I was pleased to learn that we had a table reserved in an interesting restaurant. Our gathering had grown and we were now a multi national group. I’m still not sure if everyone there knew someone else in the group or not. However I happily rolled my chicken fajita threw back my tequila and took it all in my stride even when another Polish band appeared at our table and began playing Mexican music.

I don’t think twenty tequila’s would have made the taxi ride to the next establishment any less ‘thrilling’ but at least the drink enabled me to observe it as though separated from my body , which I’m sure I nearly was. It was like being in a scene from a James Bond movie. The journey involved two pavements, a couple of kerb hits, two slight bumps and much swearing. I think we went over traffic calming measures at one point doing 50 mph because my head kept hitting the roof and someone said ‘those speed bumps really slow things down.’

We swung into an enormous park that reminded me of Russian spy films and a few miles later screeched to a halt beside what can only be described as Fred Flintstone’s house. The bar was in the middle of the park which looked like a huge round stone with windows. Outside were stone tables and chairs and little camp fires with groups playing guitars and singing. Inside there was a huge flagstone floor and a solid stone sweeping counter.

Another ex-pat thought now would be a good time to introduce ‘the Scotsman’ to Russian Vodka. I had a brief moment of worrying about a hangover but was quickly assured that Red Bull was the thing to prevent that. I thought he meant later or the next morning but he was nothing but efficient in pouring it straight into the vodka. It gave me wings of course and we embarked on an evening making more friends and destroying Irish, Mexican, Polish, Russian and most other nation’s best loved songs and dances whilst the Red Bull kicked in alongside the vodka.

I don’t know when we left the bar and I assumed we were heading home through the park. Apparently, relieving yourself in bushes in Warsaw’s parks could have caused a diplomatic incident. Fortunately I got away with it.

Somehow we miraculously arrived at the door of yet another establishment. ‘Let’s try this place’, someone said and I drunkenly found myself inside the bar, arm in arm, with two stunning looking Eastern European ladies both of whom were acting like I was the best looking man they had ever seen. ‘This is incredible,’ I slavered to Steve who merely winked and headed to the gents.

I plonked myself down on a bar stool and put my head in my hands on the counter for a little rest. I was aware of music then of wondering hazily why the barmaid was walking along the bar counter. I noticed the heels just in front of my hands, her ankles; her legs clad in fishnet hold ups and then almost fell off my stool. We were in a lap-dance bar.

This had of course all been planned by Steve’s pals. The currency exchange rate was very favourable at the time and everything was incredibly inexpensive in Poland. Drink was very cheap. I’m sure the ‘rules’ in this bar were slightly different to those in the UK because buying a drink for one of the girls meant she sat scantily clad on your knee for around an hour. I found that out when one of the gang bought a girl a drink ‘for me.’ Mind you, by that point, almost every guy at our table had a stunning girl sitting on his knee. Lap dance rules were clearly different too, in that ‘allegedly’ an element of light touching was not just allowed but positively encouraged. I found that out, when one of the girls unexpectedly started performing in my face at our table and then on our actual table. One of the lads must have thought I’d like that.

At this point in my tale, I must point out that nothing untoward took place. I wasn’t quite THAT kind of place and I’m pretty sure we weren’t THAT kind of group of guys. Steve and I did however have a fabulous game of pool with two of the most beautiful Russian girls I have ever seen. Strangely, by this point in the evening, the fact that they were topless did not distract us much, well at least not until they placed a breast in a pocket just I lined up a shot.

That was my last memory of that night. I do not remember the journey home and all else is blank until I was woken by the band playing drums on my skull.

AND THEN SOME

The heart was heavy but the words
Wouldn’t come
I felt like I had died
And then some

Sun on my face yet
I wanted to scream
As the pressures piled up
And destroyed our dream

Compartments built up
Deep in my mind
I placed my guilt there
For no one to find

Summer passed by and I
Turned a page
But reality threatened me
With middle age

Little words spoken
That I’d one day rue
Devastation delivered with
A simple ‘Irn Bru?’

An emotional recipe
Known only to one
And still my heart aches
And then some