Lessons from Canadian PGA Professionals – The Final Putt
A Canadian PGA Professional has many roles but surely one of the most important is to help golfers improve. Canadian PGA Professionals have helped me over the many years I’ve been playing the game. If I’ve improved, it’s because of what they taught me. If I haven’t, it’s because I didn’t work hard enough or long enough at what they suggested.
My first lesson was a playing lesson, with the Canadian legend Bill Mawhinney. This was at the old Northwood club in Toronto, which has long since been turned into real estate. My dad knew of Mawhinney’s reputation as a player—he had defeated Nick Weslock 6&4 to win the 1950 Canadian Amateur—and as an instructor. We played nine holes and Mawhinney told me posture was my major issue. I was 15 and already over 6’ tall. Mawhinney, who eventually moved to British Columbia where he won the provincial Open in 1957, awakened me to the truth that the swing could go wrong because of something at address. I’ve been aware of my posture since.
Next came instruction from Kenny Jacobs, the Head Professional at the Glen Shields Golf Club in north Toronto—also long gone. Kenny was built close to the ground and could hit the ball miles. He advised me to hit the ball hard but to always remain in balance. On many summer evenings I hung around the pro shop while we talked golf. Kenny told stories of his playing the winter circuit in Florida. I’m sure this is where I first heard stories about Ben Hogan.
I was a decent junior player and Kenny invited me to play a tournament called the Hulbert Memorial. Teams included the club pro, two amateurs and a junior. Our team won. Kenny was so happy for us. But he died far too young. His fellow Canadian PGA Professionals remember a man who was full of life and had a swagger about him. Kenny loved his job and he had a smile, a swing tip and a story for every member.
My dad and I soon moved slightly east and north to another club, Richmond Hill, where I met lanky Wally Byers. Wally wondered why tall golfers had to hunch over their clubs, especially the irons. In the early ‘80s, Wally made a set where the length of each club allowed for a constant hand position. That was Wally, always trying to find a way for golfers to feel more comfortable over the ball. He helped me understand that not any clubs would do. They had to fit the individual.
Soon I joined Uplands, The funky old Stanley Thompson design provided all the golf one could want even though it was less than 6,000 yards. There were a lot of smiles around the pro shop when a few extra yards were found so that the scorecard could read 6,001 yards.
The pro shop was right behind the first tee. I wouldn’t let a round start without spending a few moments with the club pros: Bob Barr, Bill Baker, Gary Haines, Leon Decaire, and David Dean. Uplands was a golfing feast. The Eager Beaver tournament there effectively started the Ontario amateur season. All the top amateurs played. Moe Norman, who had won the Beaver before becoming a pro, delivered an annual clinic off the first tee. I’d already seen Moe hit balls at the Dehavilland range in Toronto, which was five minutes by car from my home. Moe impressed upon me the value of extension through the ball. Later he would say something that has always stuck in my mind.
“Most people swing around the course, not through the course,” Moe would say. “You have to swing through the course, not around.” Extend to the target, that is.
It wasn’t only at the clubs themselves where I met club pros. Toronto had a few winter golf schools, and I spent many evenings hitting balls into canvas and drinking lukewarm coffee while listening to pros tell stories. I liked to nose around Bert Turcotte’s Eglinton Golf School above a grocery store in midtown Toronto. Irv Lightstone ran the Toronto School of Golf in Lawrence Plaza, at Bathurst St. and Lawrence Avenue. Irv made sure there were plenty of golf publications around. Those were the days of Ontario Golf News and the small-size Golf Digest. Irv also set up a separate room to videotape swings. This was in 1968, and it was considered a teaching innovation.
I’d hit balls and listen to Irv’s stories of playing tournaments with Moe, George Knudson, and Al Balding, and Moe Norman, and then settle in for 15 or 20 minutes of serious golf reading. But winter schools soon faded from the scene. The Toronto School of Golf closed in 1970. Meanwhile, Irv was the Head Professional at the Maple Downs Golf and Country Club north of the city—his home for 45 years. I’m a member at Maple now, and it’s good to see Irv when he shows up to bat the ball around. The man’s a natural storyteller and a repository of Canadian golf history. It’s a rich history. Irv helped me become aware of it. I absorb more of this history at the annual Maple Downs pro-am, where club pros play and tell more stories.
Kenny Jacobs and Wally Byers are no longer with us. I miss Joe Rice, who we used to call the human one-iron because he was thin and tall. I miss Ben Kern, who advised me to keep my left side moving through impact. I miss George Clifton, who gave me a lesson at Bayview in Toronto. He noticed my habit of picking the club up quickly and advised me to take it back lower to the ground. Extension back, that is.
I’ve been fortunate to learn from so many Canadian PGA Professionals. They’ve been an important part of my enjoyment of the game, and my understanding of it. They taught me decades ago. They teach me now.
Lorne Rubenstein
Canadian PGA
My first lesson was a playing lesson, with the Canadian legend Bill Mawhinney. This was at the old Northwood club in Toronto, which has long since been turned into real estate. My dad knew of Mawhinney’s reputation as a player—he had defeated Nick Weslock 6&4 to win the 1950 Canadian Amateur—and as an instructor. We played nine holes and Mawhinney told me posture was my major issue. I was 15 and already over 6’ tall. Mawhinney, who eventually moved to British Columbia where he won the provincial Open in 1957, awakened me to the truth that the swing could go wrong because of something at address. I’ve been aware of my posture since.
Next came instruction from Kenny Jacobs, the Head Professional at the Glen Shields Golf Club in north Toronto—also long gone. Kenny was built close to the ground and could hit the ball miles. He advised me to hit the ball hard but to always remain in balance. On many summer evenings I hung around the pro shop while we talked golf. Kenny told stories of his playing the winter circuit in Florida. I’m sure this is where I first heard stories about Ben Hogan.
I was a decent junior player and Kenny invited me to play a tournament called the Hulbert Memorial. Teams included the club pro, two amateurs and a junior. Our team won. Kenny was so happy for us. But he died far too young. His fellow Canadian PGA Professionals remember a man who was full of life and had a swagger about him. Kenny loved his job and he had a smile, a swing tip and a story for every member.
My dad and I soon moved slightly east and north to another club, Richmond Hill, where I met lanky Wally Byers. Wally wondered why tall golfers had to hunch over their clubs, especially the irons. In the early ‘80s, Wally made a set where the length of each club allowed for a constant hand position. That was Wally, always trying to find a way for golfers to feel more comfortable over the ball. He helped me understand that not any clubs would do. They had to fit the individual.
Soon I joined Uplands, The funky old Stanley Thompson design provided all the golf one could want even though it was less than 6,000 yards. There were a lot of smiles around the pro shop when a few extra yards were found so that the scorecard could read 6,001 yards.
The pro shop was right behind the first tee. I wouldn’t let a round start without spending a few moments with the club pros: Bob Barr, Bill Baker, Gary Haines, Leon Decaire, and David Dean. Uplands was a golfing feast. The Eager Beaver tournament there effectively started the Ontario amateur season. All the top amateurs played. Moe Norman, who had won the Beaver before becoming a pro, delivered an annual clinic off the first tee. I’d already seen Moe hit balls at the Dehavilland range in Toronto, which was five minutes by car from my home. Moe impressed upon me the value of extension through the ball. Later he would say something that has always stuck in my mind.
“Most people swing around the course, not through the course,” Moe would say. “You have to swing through the course, not around.” Extend to the target, that is.
It wasn’t only at the clubs themselves where I met club pros. Toronto had a few winter golf schools, and I spent many evenings hitting balls into canvas and drinking lukewarm coffee while listening to pros tell stories. I liked to nose around Bert Turcotte’s Eglinton Golf School above a grocery store in midtown Toronto. Irv Lightstone ran the Toronto School of Golf in Lawrence Plaza, at Bathurst St. and Lawrence Avenue. Irv made sure there were plenty of golf publications around. Those were the days of Ontario Golf News and the small-size Golf Digest. Irv also set up a separate room to videotape swings. This was in 1968, and it was considered a teaching innovation.
I’d hit balls and listen to Irv’s stories of playing tournaments with Moe, George Knudson, and Al Balding, and Moe Norman, and then settle in for 15 or 20 minutes of serious golf reading. But winter schools soon faded from the scene. The Toronto School of Golf closed in 1970. Meanwhile, Irv was the Head Professional at the Maple Downs Golf and Country Club north of the city—his home for 45 years. I’m a member at Maple now, and it’s good to see Irv when he shows up to bat the ball around. The man’s a natural storyteller and a repository of Canadian golf history. It’s a rich history. Irv helped me become aware of it. I absorb more of this history at the annual Maple Downs pro-am, where club pros play and tell more stories.
Kenny Jacobs and Wally Byers are no longer with us. I miss Joe Rice, who we used to call the human one-iron because he was thin and tall. I miss Ben Kern, who advised me to keep my left side moving through impact. I miss George Clifton, who gave me a lesson at Bayview in Toronto. He noticed my habit of picking the club up quickly and advised me to take it back lower to the ground. Extension back, that is.
I’ve been fortunate to learn from so many Canadian PGA Professionals. They’ve been an important part of my enjoyment of the game, and my understanding of it. They taught me decades ago. They teach me now.
Lorne Rubenstein
Canadian PGA