"Kilted Golfer DENIED...." story in Scotland on Sunday electronic edition Sept 5 2010

[ForresterModern]

True to his word, this evening I received the following email from Dr David Purdie, who wrote the "Against" commentary to the original Scotland on Sunday article last week:

Dear Dr Foster ;

Fraternal greetings from Edinburgh. This is just to say that all right thinking Scots golfers were appalled at the events at Troon. A least you got to play the course - but in your 2nd choice of apparel. I come from Prestwick next door to Troon, and I do hope you’ll not be put off returning to the links of Ayrshire in future. We have the occasional dinosaurial attitudes which are gradually disappearing - but clearly there’s some way to go yet..

I wrote an article for our national Sunday newspaper in the form of an Open Letter to the Secretary at Troon - by Maj. Warren Dawlish . He is the (fictional) fiery Secretary of the (equally fictional) Royal St Luke’s Golf Club and his column “ The Major ” appears in the magazine Golf International ( not on sale in the US). The article , heavy with irony , basically tells Troon to get a grip.

There’s also a short poem on the subject of your treatment which I sent over to Jerry Tarde - a fellow member of Pine Valley - who’s Editor-in-Chief of Golf Digest in the States. You’ll see - and I hope enjoy it - in January. I leave for a lecture tour of the US on Thursday (sadly, not including Louisville) and I expect to get a wave of ribald comment from our fellow golfers about what happened to you ! I’ll cope.

Best wishes

Yrs sincerely,

David Purdie


Attached to this email is what I believe was the letter to the editor he spoke of, from his fictitional character "The Major":

Copy for; Tom Peterkin; The Scotsman.
Filed ; Wed; Sept. 8th.
Wds: 1260.



An Open Letter to the Secretary of Royal Troon Golf Club;


Dear Mr Secretary;
I was delighted to read, in Scotland on Sunday last week, of the principled stand taken by Royal Troon over the barefaced, or rather barekneed, attempt to play your hallowed course by an American clad, openly, in a kilt! This person had evaded the notoriously slack clothing checks at Muirfield and St. Andrews, but there are clearly no flies on you men of Troon! The chap's kilt was spotted immediately for what it was; he was challenged, halted and straightway trousered from the course. A few short centuries ago he'd have been lucky to survive. In Covenanting times an approaching kilt was known as a Gael warning and Ayrshire's stern Calvinists knew exactly what to do: put a sword through it! It has been argued that the kilt is our national dress, but this notion dates back only to Sir Walter Scott, stage-managing the descent of the gigantic King George IV on Edinburgh in 1822. The kilt is 'The Garb of old Gaul' i.e. the national dress of the highland Celt, not of we Lowlanders with our descent from fiery Saxons, Right Angles and arthritic Ancient Britons
You may face criticism for your courageous stand, but fear not; in the days of trial ahead of you, Royal St Luke's stands beside you to show that we're behind you. As I'm sure you know, this Club was founded in 1603 by King James who had just moved to the top of the new UK leaderboard following the death of England's Good Queen Boss. He did this selflessly, enduring a cut in his numeral from VI to I and despite the fate of his late mother, Mary Queen of Scots, the first woman known to have played the game. Indeed, it was Mary's repeated attempts to introduce golf south of the border that led to her execution at Fotheringay in 1587, her inability to keep her head down over the issue ultimately leading to her inability to keep it on.
On his way south from Edinburgh to London to complete the takeover, James paused to inaugurate this Club, leaving behind him 'Ane Coade of Dresse ' known to this day as the authorised version. Consequently, we have just over four hundred years of experience of dealing with attempted violations; let me tell you how we do it.
The key to dress control here is the Oldest Member; not the delightful character of the Wodehouse novels, but a person of raw executive power. The Oldest Member (OM) belongs ex-officio to our Star Chamber and is our guardian of tradition, standards and general rectitude on and off the course. Enthroned in his window seat in Founder's Lounge, he has both a geographical and a moral view around the club, where dress is naturally a major issue. He gave way some years ago over the popular “ Dirty Bar” where members may now take a restorative in golfing attire, but it’s still collar and tie for luncheon in the dining room. Indeed it used to be so for all other meals as well, a visitor from The Colonies once abreacting sharply on being told of the then strict breakfast dress code.
“Look here, OM, ” said he with some heat, “surely a gentleman could have his breakfast wearing a sports shirt, but with a tailored jacket on top and trousers. Surely ! ” And the OM had said,
“ Certainly, young man. A breakfast could indeed be eaten by a gentleman wearing a sports shirt, tailored jacket and trousers; but not here.”
Dress on the golf course is another OM responsibility. Our Starter is strictly charged not to let players drive off the 1st tee wearing (a) reversed or sideways-pointing baseball caps (b) round-necked T-shirts (c) any shirt in the colours of a Premier Division association football team and, most importantly (d) shorts unaccompanied by long hose to the patella or kneecap. In the latter case, the OM’s binoculars are kept handy to adjudicate. The player in question is made to stand facing the clubhouse and then to slowly pirouette twice, raising one leg at a time. With the Starter’s telescope trained on the clubhouse windows, the response is conveyed by the OM’s raising of a green or red handkerchief. His decision, naturally, is final.
The only exception we made to the football shirt rule was in the case of the late and excellent US Open champion Payne Stewart who was playing demonstration matches with our Professional. Stewart was then under contract to advertise the National Football League (NFL) of the United States by wearing the colours of one of its constituent teams. It had been patiently explained by myself to the OM that this was OK. American football was an evolved variant of rugby - despite its outrageous forward passes - and Stewart’s colourful green-and-white ensemble represented a Team.
“So, who is he today?” demanded the OM, gazing out at the brilliant spectacle.
“I am given to understand,” said I, consulting the events programme, “that this morning he is… a dolphin of Miami.”
“A dolphin of Miami,” mused the OM, “How extraordinary. Tell me, Mr Secretary, will he change into another team, or indeed mutate into another creature, for this afternoon's round?”
“He will indeed. I believe that after luncheon he will become a Ram of Los Angeles…”
The Troon membership is to be congratulated on holding the line by drawing the line and thus taking a firm line with their philibegged visitor. It could have been the thin end of the wedge, worse even than a thinned wedge. The links could have been swamped by had a stream of lederhosened Austrians, ponchoed Mexicans and Taiwanese ladies surmounted by giant conical lampshades.
One suspects, however, that what you actually had in mind the safety of both the player - and of other members out on the course. The SoS report carried trenchant observations from a medical professor that playing Royal Troon in a northerly gale could have serious health consequences. This is correct, as highlighted in a recent report from the Healthy & Safe Executive which warned that if a kilt is 'unaccompanied' i.e. not underpinned by a nether garment, the wind-chill from a Force 8 gale on the wearer's reproductive apparatus can progress rapidly to pelvic hypothermia. This could of course be detected by the caddy, as the player's voice, rising progressively from baritone to mezzo-soprano, announces the onset of exposure. However, such exposure may also have a social component. On the high and exposed tee of Royal Troon's famous 8th hole, The Postage Stamp, what Burns calls 'A blast o' Janwar win' ' could give a kilt a major upward whirling. The elements might thus expose the player's own elements to the view of scandalised ladies, with a consequent outbreak of tops, shanks and airshots.
Finally, Mr Secretary, perhaps your visitor should be encouraged to return next year to Royal Troon, this time taking the sartorial middle ground. Halfway between the trousers and the kilt lie the trews. Tastefully representing the family tartan, they are as acceptable on the golf course as on the dance floor. But as to the kilt - properly worn - perhaps not. After all, lurking in the rough surrounding Royal Troon and our other great links courses is the waist-high thistle and that ultimate terror awaiting the unclad posterior - the gorse…
I am, Mr Secretary,
Yours sincerely,
Maj. RJM Warren-Dawlish, M.C.,
Secretary, Royal St Lukes Golf Club.



I am not sure if it has been published yet but if so I would appreciate hearing about it from anyone who finds it.

I wrote back thanking him for his tongue in cheek style of support. Hope to hear more from him in the not too distant future.

jeff

[artificer]

Clearly, Mr. Purdie is a man of razor-sharp wit (and tongue).

This is a work of genius in the best tradition of British humour, up there with Monty Python's "Letters to the BBC" from The Flying Circus.

I'd hate to be on the receiving end .

A hard copy will certainly a treasure for the scrap book your very patient WIFE is putting together.

[Jock Scot]

Er, I think that was me, sending the copy of the paper, I certainly sent you one and the note that was supposed to be with it is still on my desk!

[ForresterModern]

Er, I think that was me, sending the copy of the paper, I certainly sent you one and the note that was supposed to be with it is still on my desk!

Thank you again, Jock. It arrived with no return address or note, only postage and my address. I figured out it was you after the reporter (who was also going to send an original copy) wrote me afterward that he was going to put his in the mail the next day (after I already had yours in hand). Please PM me with your costs and I will reimburse you---otherwise it will be a great debt I will have to work hard to repay by visiting Inverness-shire sometime, not an entirely unpleasant option. ;)

jeff

[KFCarter]

Mr Purdie's "Maj. RJM Warren-Dawlish, M.C." could have, in an earlier day, inhabited a Gilbert & Sullivan comic opera; perhaps "Yeoman of the Links -- or the Kilted Duffer of Troon."

Great stuff, Mr. Purdie.

[Jock Scot]

Well done Mr Purdie. He is obviousely a keen observer of people. I can even put real names to people that he has described! Actually they are(were mainly now) not bad people at all ------just out of touch.

[ForresterModern]

Another email from Dr Purdie today (the "Against" commentary in the Scotland on Sunday article) who says his commentary there was indeed intended as tongue in cheek. Seems the letter to the editor quoted above got "spiked" (his words) by the editor, os did not get printed, at least not yet.

Also, if he can locate a new stock copy of his book at his publisher he is going to have it forwarded to me with his compliments. Nice guy. And he is definitely a supporter of the "cause".

Jeff

[Jock Scot]

Oh don't worry about it Jeff, buy me a drink sometime.