$84,500 Worth of Practicality

Art Linkletter has his subdivision, Dean Martin has his restaurant, and somewhere in the U.S., at this very instant, some poor infant undoubtedly is being christened Rock Hudson Whosis. But Bing Crosby can go them all one better: he has a practical joke named after him. The Bing Crosby National Pro-Amateur golf championship is $84,500 worth of practicality and a barrel of laughs. Remember Arnold Palmer, who took nine strokes to get down on a par-three hole last year? And Bob Rosburg, who six-putted a green? And Bob Harrison, who joined the ranks of golf's mortals by firing an even 100 for the last 18 holes?

Last week's Crosby was the funniest yet. "Isn't this just great?" crooned the Groaner. "Isn't this just wonderful?"--as a 50-m.p.h. winter gale whipped across California's Monterey Peninsula. One TV tower collapsed completely, and the rest were shaking so badly that the players looked as though they were dancing the Tahitian hula on millions of home TV screens. ("Sorry, folks," the announcer apologized. "We just can't hold the cameras steady.") Arnie Palmer winced with pain as a cloud of sand from the bunkers blew into his eyes. Tony Lema huddled against his caddy for protection from the pelting rain, and Amateur Robert Hoag was almost blown over backwards by a gust of wind as he addressed his ball for a drive.

Kentucky Windage. On the Pebble Beach Country Club's seventh hole, normally an easy 110-yd. wedge shot, Eddie Merrins scored a hole in one-with a No. 3 iron. Paul Harney, one of the longest hitters on the pro tour (he once belted a ball 430 yds.), swung his driver twice (once on the tee, once on the fairway) on a 367-yd. hole and still wound up 30 yds. short of the green. Taking Kentucky windage on the oceanside 18th, Palmer sent a No. 3 wood angling out to sea, smiled happily as the ball blew back right in line with the flag. Scores skyrocketed: Don January shot an 88, and P.G.A. Champ Bobby Nichols checked in with a Sunday duffer's 90.

The most bewildered player on the course was Rocky Thompson, 25, who found himself leading the field by two strokes with 18 holes to play. "I didn't even make the golf team at the University of Houston," said Thompson--and faded back into obscurity by bogey-ing three straight holes on the last round. That gave the lead to an even less likely prospect: Bruce Crampton, 29, a stocky, stoical Aussie who has played in practically every tournament since he joined the U.S. pro circuit in 1957, and whose 1965 winnings, going into last week's Crosby, totaled exactly $0. But Crampton was taking lessons. And from whom? Jack Nicklaus. "Jack noticed that I was hooding my drives," said Crampton. "He adjusted my grip at the top, and that forced me to open my clubface at impact. Then he stood there and watched me hit for 45 minutes. I am grateful that a man of his stature should take the time with a nobody like me."

Tip from the Top. The wind died to a practically meek 15 m.p.h. for the last day, and the only casualty was a shock case: a golfer who was lining up his putt on the 14th hole when a deer came bounding across the green and continued on its way--leaping clear over the astonished gallery. Dressed in a pair of baggy nylon rain pants, fortified by his tip from the top, Aussie Crampton rolled in six birdie putts (including a 50-footer) and sloshed to a three-stroke victory worth $7,500 over Tony Lema. Nicklaus picked up $3,100 for third place--enough to finance a week of rest and rehabilitation in Mexico. Arnie Palmer went to Palm Springs, but after finishing 61st, he had to pay his own way.

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