SARAZEN AND THE MAGIC RING - Did it help with the magic double eagle at the Masters in 1935?

This article has been excerpted, with permission, from the September, 1935, issue of the American Golfer

By BOB DAVIS

LUCK pieces, hunches, signs, portents, yes even jinxes, all have their places in human psychology. Superstition has played an important role in history. It is difficult to imagine a normal person who is not in some measure affected by these things. Read on!

Last April while attending the golf tournament at Augusta where the cream of amateur and professional players gathered in competition, I ran into my old friend Gene Sarazen. (right, click to make image larger) We shoot hands, too warmly, I fear. At least Gene detached his mitt from mine exclaiming, "Are you wearing brass knuckles?"

"Sorry, Gene, but I forgot the heavy silver ring on my third finger."

"Who made it; some blacksmith?"

"A souvenir from Mexico. The maker passed from this life more than a century ago. Concerning its history, if you care to listen . . . ?"

Yes he would; so I let the tale unfold. Originally the silver band was worn by Benito Juarez, first president and liberator of Mexico, the man who opposed the right of France to set up a monarchy on Mexican soil for the enthronement of Maximilian, who was executed by a Republican firing squad in 1867. That was an end to the French desire. Mexico continued free and a Republic.

"Now the point that will interest you, Gene," I continued, "is that the father of the present Premier of Italy, land of your forebears, and the birthplace of Sarazen, Senior, named his firstborn Benito in honor of the Mexican patriot. Three years ago when I dined at your home in Pelham, your dad discussing Mussolini, told me how II Duce got his given name.

"In view of the fact that this ring, once the property of Benito Juarez, linked vicariously with Benito Mussolini, is now in my possession, convinces me that destiny has set the stage for a ceremony to be performed, in the surrender of this ring to your keeping, in the hope that it will bring you good luck in the four days' competition on the Augusta National Course. Therefore I place in your keeping, with all the influence for good that may obtain, this silver relic once the possession of Benito Juarez."

Following this brief recital I removed the ring from my finger and handed it to Sarazen. That he was impressed is putting it mildly. Although reserve is not Gene's strong point when speech is justified, on this occasion he hesitated. "I'll accept it for my father's sake," he said finally, "not to be worn during play; it is the wrong shape for comfort and would interfere with my stroke, but to be carried in my pocket. I won't attempt to express my thanks. You know how I feel. Perhaps. . . Well, let's see what happens tomorrow."

"Go with confidence down every fairway, Gene. You can't fail." I slapped him on the back as he walked away, fingering the luck piece.

"Honestly, did that piece of junk ever belong to Juarez?" asked Tow Dewart, who had heard my whole conversation with Sarazen.

"Absolutely not, it was made by a modern Mexican silversmith and presented to me by Major Arthur Hamilton Gibbs last December."

"Well, what's the big idea in loading your friend Sarazen up with the fake history?"

"An experiment in suggestion. It may work."

"Suppose it doesn't. What then?"

"If he wins the tournament, it won't make any difference. If he loses, I'll tell him the truth and he will probably find some other reason for his defeat."

"When you tell the truth," said Tom, "that will be something new. I'll be interested to watch developments."

Sarazen slugged his way through all opposition with scores that were hung up on the front page wherever newspapers are printed. Not in the history of American golf has a more consistent performance been staged by any individual. On the fourth day the custodian of the ring rubbed its bright silver and sunk a double eagle, dropped a ball in two on a 485-yard hole that called for five strokes on the card. A sensational performance that gave Sarazen a tie with Craig Wood whom he defeated by five strokes on the following day. The silver ring was parked during the whole course of the competition in the plus fours watch pocket of the sturdy Italian whose father is an admirer of Benito Mussolini, named after Benito Juarez. As an additional stimulus to confidence I sent Sarazen the following telegram from Sprucepine, North Carolina, through which I passed the next morning, when he paired with Hagen in the fourth round.

At Roanoke that night I heard the news of the great victory and suddenly became smitten with the consciousness that I had pulled a preposterous fake under pretext of experiment. But after a night's sleep and a soaring conviction that perhaps the suggestion of power implanted in Gene might in the light of results be forgiven, and perhaps even applauded.

By Gene himself the whole truth will be known when he reads this page. And that's soon enough. In the interval I wrote Major Gibbs to whom I confessed without reserve, not forgetting to put in the plea of extenuating circumstances. I should have known that a man of his timber, schooled in the ritual of sportsmanship, would react according to Hoyle.
"I commend your audacity," he sternly wrote, "and ratify the transfer of the silver circlet. At least the ring is now on the hand of one worthy to wear it. I'm bringing you a duplicate as a reward for constancy. Gibbs."

I have a strong hunch that Sarazen will win the American Open Championship honors as well as the British Open, not because of this silver ring, but because of his iron heart.

A note from the blogist: Gene Sarazen had won both the US Open and The Open Championship in 1932. Unfortunately, he did not win those majors in 1935, nor ever after.