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Slices from the Past

Periodically, we will post a "blast from the past"​. Magazine articles, newspaper clippings, stories, videos, etc. That we think may be of interest to our readers. Do you have a topic from the past or article in which you think other members would be interested in? Email our editor!

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Life on the Men’s Tennis Circuit
Video by: Roger Dowdeswell
rrogerd1@aol.com
Video Intro: Jimmy Parker
prkrtennis@aol.com
December 2020

You are about to enter a time capsule when you set out to watch this fascinating 20 minute film made by NSMTA member Roger Dowdeswell over 40 years ago. In it, he interviews players on the ATP Tour, both well-known and not. He is interested in getting their feeling about life on the tour, (and off as well). It was especially interesting to me because I recognized most of the players, and would be interested in finding out what their lives have been about during the succeeding four decades! I suspect that many of their revelations would be equally true today if one were to interview modern tour players - journeymen and stars.

The Club Where It Happened:
Notes on the Origins of USTA Men’s 55+ National Tournaments
Chuck Maland
cmaland@utk.edu
June 2020

Despite the cancellations of many national senior men’s tennis tournaments this year—a pandemic year we’re unlikely to forget—we are enjoying a Golden Age of senior men’s tennis. The formation of the National Senior Men’s Tennis Association is just one indication of that fact. Even more significantly, the USTA now sanctions national tournaments in singles and doubles on all four surfaces—indoor hard court, hard court, clay, and grass—in every 5-year age group between the 55s and the 90s.

Yet it wasn’t always so. According to USTA history, this is when the first USTA national men’s tournaments in different age groups were staged:

90s — 1999
85s — 1983 (but then not held again until 1988)
80s — 1977
75s — 1973
70s — 1970
65s — 1968
60s — 1966

In many cases—though not all—just one national tournament was held in the first year in each of these age groups, usually on clay, followed by the next year when competitions in all other surfaces joined in. The USTA website lists the singles and doubles champions of all these tournaments here. (Unfortunately, you won’t find my name there, but you will likely recognize a lot of names, perhaps even yours. If my legs hold up, though, I’m going to keep trying.)

Not enough people know, however, that the first USTA 55+ National Men’s Tennis Tournament was hosted at the club where I most often play, the Knoxville Racquet Club. Here I’d like to offer a brief history of that first tournament and a few observations about how that tournament, despite many differences, is similar to many of the national tournaments that we play today. 

For those who don’t know the geography of East Tennessee, Knoxville is nestled in the foothills of the Great Smokey Mountains. Interstate Highways 40, 75, and 81 converge and go through the city; thus we’re within several hours’ drive of Lexington Ky., Asheville, N.C., Atlanta, and Nashville. It’s the home of the Tennessee Valley Authority, the University of Tennessee (where I’ve taught cinema studies and American literature for 42 years), and the Women’s Basketball Hall of Fame. The corporate headquarters of Regal Cinema and Pilot Oil are in Knoxville—Pilot’s corporate offices are a stone’s throw from the Knoxville Racquet  Club—and several video production companies, including Discovery, are active in Knoxville, partly because of lower production costs than in New York, Los Angeles, and Atlanta.

The Knoxville Racquet Club was then a recently established, member-owned club, having been founded in 1961. When the tournament was held in 1963, the club had 11 clay courts and some indoor hard courts: today, besides 12 clay courts, we have five outdoor hard courts and ten indoor hard courts. The clubhouse sits atop a Tennessee ridge—players have to drive two-tenths of a mile up a steep asphalt road off Lonas Drive to get to the parking lot. The courts were built on two separate tiers below the clubhouse, so anyone interested in watching matches can sit at the top of one of those tiers to watch competitions, which may have been one draw to hold the tournament there. Players walk down 18 steps from the clubhouse to play on the first tier of courts; the second tier goes down even farther.

The groundbreaking tournament was held October 15-21, 1963. To anchor this in history, it was two months after the historic March on Washington, when Martin Luther King gave his “I Have a Dream Speech,” slightly more than a month before John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, and about four months before the Beatles first performed on the Ed Sullivan Show.

However, the tournament was by no means the only big event in Knoxville that week. The Hollywood movie adaptation of James Agee’s Pulitzer-Prize-winning novel, A Death in the Family—retitled All the Way Home—had its world premiere at the Tennessee Theater, with star Robert Preston and producer David Susskind attending. (Agee grew up in Knoxville, and the semi-autobiographical novel is set in Knoxville in 1915.) The University of Tennessee football team was preparing for a road game in Tuscaloosa: the Saturday of the tournament semifinals the Crimson Tide crushed the Volunteers, 35-0. National Senior Men’s Clay Tournaments continued in Knoxville through 2004, but the tournament was always held in September or October on an open date or an away game for the Tennessee football team. (It kept hotel prices down for tennis players—home football weekends swelled Knoxville’s population and hotel rates!)

Both of Knoxville’s newspapers—the morning Journal and the afternoon News-Sentinel—gave daily coverage to the tournament. Roe Campbell was the chairman of the tournament committee. He and two other Knoxvillians—69-year-old Ebb King (the oldest entrant) and Dr. Alex Shipley—were entered, and the field also included Dr. Milton Bush from Nashville (one-time coach of the Vanderbilt University men’s tennis team) and Eldon Roark, Sr., a syndicated newspaper columnist at the Memphis Press-Scimitar. I’ll come back to Roark later. But it was an impressively national field for the first such tournament: it included players from California, Oregon, Texas, Oklahoma, Florida, South Carolina, Pennsylvania, New York, Ohio, and Minnesota, among other states.

Tournament play began on Tuesday the 15th. The singles draw had 52 players: 20 matches were played on the first day. The seeding worked differently at this tournament because all five seeds played the first day, while six more first-round matches were played on Wednesday. The seeds included: 1) Joseph Lipshutz from Philadelphia (who had been a four-letter athlete at Temple University and a high-school high jump champion); 2) Monte Ganger of Cleveland; 3) William Roeder of St. Louis; 4) Dave Freeborn of Tulsa; and 5) James Hodgkins from Santa Barbara. All won their opening rounds: Freeborn’s 6-3, 6-2 victory over Henry Rupp from Huntsville, Alabama, was the tightest of these five matches. (Alas, all the Knoxville entrants lost the first day.)

As in most of our national tournaments today, doubles and consolation play began the second day of the tournament. Three doubles teams were seeded: 1) Ed Leonard (a former NFL player) and James Hodgkins; 2) Joseph Lipshutz and Bernard Clinton; 3) William Roeder and Dave Freeborn.

The tournament started heating up and the seeds started falling on Thursday and Friday. Bernard Clinton, from Dallas, upset the third-seeded Roeder on Thursday, then knocked off the five-seed Hodgkins 6-3, 7-5. Dr. Milton Bush from Nashville, who was born with only one arm, rallied from deficits in both sets against fourth-seeded Freeborn, winning 7-5, 6-4 to reach the quarterfinals.

Top-seed Lipshutz told News-Sentinel reporter Bill Luther on Thursday that “there are seven players still in the singles that could take the title.” Noting that many of the players had been nationally ranked in their younger years, Lipshutz added that “a lot of college players would envy the way that some of them hit the ball although some are approaching 70.”

On Saturday Lipshutz finished Dr. Ford’s run with a 6-4, 6-1 semifinal victory, while his doubles partner Bernard Clinton upset his third-seeded player in as many days, knocking off second seed Monte Ganger, 6-4, 6-4. In doubles, all three seeded teams made it to the semi-finals. Top seeds Leonard and Hodgkins, from Portland, Oregon, won their semi-final match, defeating the third seeds Roeder and Freeborn. Unseeded Lyle McCannon and Monte Ganger were down a break, 1-3, in the first set against second-seeded Lipshutz and Clinton, but they rallied to a 6-3, 6-2 win.

The singles final on Sunday was a hard-fought match. Lipshutz got an early break and was up 3-0 and later 5-2, but Clinton won four straight to go ahead 6-5 and eventually won the set 9-7. In the second, Clinton got an early break to go up 3-1 and held the break to win the second set 6-3 for the coveted title. Following the match, the gracious Lipshutz told reporter Bill Luther that “Clinton is a mighty fine tennis player, and he didn’t seem to tire as much as I thought he would.” Clinton admitted to Luther that Lipshutz “really put the pressure on me. It looked pretty bad when he took the first three games of the opening set.”

The doubles finals generated at least as much excitement. Hodgkins and Leonard won the first set 6-3, lost the second to McCannon and Ganger, 7-5, and were tied at 7-7 in the third when the match was stopped because of darkness. Forced to return to finish the match on Monday morning, McCannon and Ganger got a hold and a break to win 9-7 in the third. So in the first national men’s 55+ tournament, unseeded players took home the victory trophy in both singles and doubles. (In addition, Clinton was 59 when he won the tournament: today he would have been in his last year of the 55s division.)

The day after the tournament ended, both daily newspapers in Knoxville congratulated the tournament committee and the club for a job well done, and 2nd-place singles finisher Lipshutz seemed to speak for the participants by complimenting the setting, the organization of the tournament and the people, adding that the tournament “was a nice as any I’ve ever played in.”

* * *           * * *            * * *

As I look back nearly 58 years, I can note significant differences between this tournament and the ones we’re playing today: the players all seemed to be in tennis whites (at least the ones who made it into newspaper photos). All the players used a wooden racquet, and none of those racquets had a head that approached 120 square inches; in fact, they all were 65 to 68 square inches. There were no third-set super tiebreakers. In fact, there were no tiebreakers at all, as witnessed by the 9-7 scores in the first set of the singles finals and the last set of the doubles final.

But there were similarities, too. Aches and pains were clearly there, as they are in our day: three of the opening day matches were decided by default. The camaraderie that we see in many of our tournaments today was evident in this first tournament in Knoxville. Some of the players were familiar with one another from matches in the past, good evidence of their continuing passion for the game.     

There was also a good bit of storytelling by players not on the court. I had to laugh at one comment by an unnamed player who told a Journal reporter: “The old tennis balls had more rubber in them than these modern ones—I remember 1927 as a year when they really took off when you hit ‘em.”

Senior tennis really began to take off after the inaugural 55+ tournament in Knoxville. By the end of the decade, Knoxville was hosting four national senior men’s clay age-group tournaments: the 55s and 60s at the Knoxville Racquet Club and the 50s and 65s at Cherokee Country Club. Multiple USTA Senior Champions like Bobby Riggs and Gardnar Mulloy became fixtures in the tournaments starting in the late 1960s. Later, the 55s and 65s continued to be a staple in Knoxville, though to my great disappointment—I couldn’t travel to national tournaments because of my job—the 55s moved to Atlanta in 2005, the year after I turned 55.

I hope this has been an informative history lesson about the first national USTA men’s 55+ tennis tournament. I’ll close with a comment by Eldon Roark Sr., an award-winning columnist from the Memphis Press-Scimitar who won a couple of singles matches in the consolations in this 1963 event. Early in the week, he told a News-Sentinel reporter that tennis was a “profitable” game for him, then explained at some length, in words that I think many of us can appreciate:

“Tennis really paid off for me. I haven’t paid any money to doctors or missed more than two or three days of work in thirty years. Tennis is a game for a lifetime. There are men at this tournament up to 69 years old who still play remarkable tennis—and believe me, it takes co-ordination, stamina, and grace to play tennis.

A quick glance around these courts backs me up. There aren’t any fat men here. Tennis helps to burn up calories and keep men quick on their feet. Many of these men have been playing tennis for over 50 years. This is serious tennis for these men. They really mean business. You’ll find keener competition among these seniors than in any other division.”

As we look forward to the resumption of our senior age-group tournaments, it’s useful to look back to see earlier evidence of the same passion and appreciation for tennis that many of us share. Before you leave, see the plaque (left), placed by the USTA in 1982 at KRC.

* * *           * * *            * * *

Chuck Maland is a Professor Emeritus and former Head of the English Department and Chair of Cinema Studies at the University of Tennessee. Besides playing as much tennis as he can, he’s author of a number of books on American movies, including Chaplin and American Culture, and he most recently edited a volume that includes all of James Agee’s movie reviews and criticism: Complete Film Criticism: Reviews, Essays, Manuscripts. Thanks to Paul Fein for his careful reading of the essay and some good suggestions.

Davis Cup - Now And Then
Mark Winters
mwinters@nsmta.net
November 2019

Now that the “bigger must surely be better” version of the Davis Cup has concluded, it’s time to take a look at how the event itself has evolved over time. Initially, it was a clubby/chummy affair between the US and the British Isles, as Great Britain was known long before there was even a thought of Brexit. True, there had been international, country versus country tennis gatherings, such as England versus Ireland or England versus France, but that was in the 1890s. The “official” team competition wasn’t birthed until 1900 when the US and BI faced-off at Longwood Cricket Club in Boston, Massachusetts.

The visitors, who were supposed to be the creme de la crème of tennis because they came from Great Britain, were throttled by their upstart hosts, 3-0. One of the competitors on the winning side was a Harvard student  named Dwight Davis. Five years after the launch, Australasia (with players from both Australia and New Zealand), Austria, Belgium and France took part in what was called the International Lawn Tennis Challenge. Perhaps to downplay the seeming pompousness of the title, the competition quickly became known as the Davis Cup, a salute to the donor of the perpetual trophy. 

In the beginning, the competition was played as a Challenge Cup. The set-up allowed the winner from the previous year to sit on the sideline while the other countries battled for a spot in the final. The “wait and watch” was great for the title holder but the format proved to be an ultra-marathon for all the other participants. In 1972 a change was finally made, and play became a somewhat more sensible win and advance tournament.

Since then, the international competition grew so large that it became unwieldy and modifications were needed. None of those alterations have even come close to matching the November 18-24 Madrid extravaganza that was created by Gerard Pique, the former FC Barcelona football (soccer) star and his Kosmos team, supported by Hiroshi Mikitani’s Rakuten financing and sanctified by the International Tennis Federation.

Before going further, it must be stressed that the “old Davis Cup way” was really no longer working. But, bulldozing history to put up a new event demands an overwhelming amount of thought and even more insight.  Thus far, it appears that a “too much, too soon” approach has been built on a foundation that isn’t exactly sand, but something nearly as tenuous. In its first appearance, the set-up seems fragile. It is as if, Pique and his colleagues were trying to create a Tennis World Cup.

My first Davis Cup experience was in 1963 at the majestic Los Angeles Tennis Club. The US faced Mexico. I was new to the game as a player and even more of a rookie when it came to knowing about the Davis Cup. Being in high school, I didn’t have the necessary connections to be “gifted” a ticket to the matches. Though I wasn’t destitute, I just didn’t have the money for tickets to the three-day tie.

I was, however, bold. I wanted to see Chuck McKinley and Dennis Ralston take on Rafael Osuna and Antonio Palafox so I decided to “make an impression.” I wore a pale blue shirt, topped it with a tasteful tie, preppy khaki slacks and the footwear of the day – that wasn’t a tennis shoe – penny loafers. Carrying my blue blazer in the crook of my elbow, I arrived very early on the first day of the matches and went directly to the fence at the back of the LATC where the wire was sagging just enough to let me scale over.

Even though I was a Davis Cup novice, I remember being impressed by the sheer dynamic of the US facing off against Mexico. The backstory was even more interesting because as a 17-year-old Ralston had teamed with Osuna to win the 1960 Wimbledon doubles title. Now, Osuna was his opponent, but he was still a USC teammate. Together, they had practiced at the LATC , where USC played its home matches, and coincidently, won the 1963 NCAA doubles title. But, that didn’t matter at all for the three days of the tie.

The LATC center court seemed gigantic to me. As mentioned I was a rookie and this was my first glimpse of play on a big stage. The bleacher seating was on wooden benches surrounding the court. There was room for a couple of thousand people. Because I was so early, there were very few people around. I browsed around and noticed there were individual chairs at court-level on the west side of the court. They looked much more comfortable than the bleachers and my goal was to be close to the action. I wanted to taste it.

After all these years, I can still remember being a tad uncomfortable making my next move. But I figured after my Eiger Mountain entrance success, I managed to continue with my “I belong here” approach. After putting on my sport coat, I walked onto the court and went straight to the seating area…and was one of the few spectators there. In time others joined me. I exchanged greetings, trying to be friendly while attempting to be invisible. Just before the start of play, a small man, who was importantly dressed, came up and started to talk to me. For a moment, I almost swallowed my tongue.

 He was John Coman, who I later discovered was a Southern California Tennis Association Vice President and a close friend of Perry Jones, who was the “Emperor of  Tennis” in the section. During our brief discussion, he told me about his love of the game and his long-time involvement as a tournament official and umpire. (In fact, he would later invent the Coman Tiebreak, which Jimmy Parker said some senior players refer to as “The Roamin’ Coman”).

When the matches concluded, I bumped into Coman on the walkway outside the court entrance. He asked what I thought about the first day’s play. After we exchanged assessment, he asked if he would see me the next day. Believing that Friday had been a “one-off, I really lucked out” occurrence, I was eventually able to mumble “I hope so…” He then said when I got to the club to look for him at the SCTA office, which was in a nook on the east side of center court. 

For the next two days, I repeated my back fence climbing routine, watched the US dominate Mexico, 4-1 and received a wonderful tennis education thanks to John Coman.  

(An important aside, the US went on to defeat Australia in the December 26-28 final, on grass in Adelaide, 3-2. The Honorable Robert Kelleher, who I met through Coman at the LATC, was the team captain. He served as President of the United States Lawn Tennis Association in 1967-68 and was a driving force behind the advent of Open Tennis. The International Tennis Hall of Fame recognized all that he had done for the game when he was inducted in 2000. A Federal Court Judge in real life, over the years, he provided tennis players like Jack Kramer, Richard “Pancho” Gonzalez, Arthur Ashe and Billie Jean King with legal advice. He also played an instrumental role in Martina Navratilova’s gaining US citizenship after she defected from Czechoslovakia in 1975. In the years after our Davis Cup meeting,  “The Judge” became a close friend.)

The Madrid undertaking was bold and innovative. Still, with all the pre-tournament hype and sensationalism as fanfare, the end product came up short which opens the door to analyzing what actually took place in Year One. As the saying goes, “first impressions are almost always the most lasting.”

 A few of the issues on the “Could Have Done Better” list include:

 Match scheduling (the US  versus Italy finished at 4:00 a.m., just in time for the players to enjoy an early breakfast. (Nearly every match was almost nine hours in length.);

 Plodding ticket sales;

 Improvements in communication, with clarity for the fans, players and media. Keeping accurate information flowing so that speculation is not regularly brought into play.

With the old Davis Cup there were often gripping, edge of your seat, emotional contests in the “five matches, five-set” play. Home and away ties added crowd fervor which made the competitive recipe even tastier.

It’s hardly surprising that whenever Spain played on the Manuel Santana Center Court, with a capacity of 12,422, the crowd was raucous. The Arantxa Sánchez Vicario No. 2 Court, with room for 2,923 spectators, rocked on occasion. From time to time, Court No. 3 was loud too, but that was due more to having a mere 1,772 seats in an enclosed space than a collection of rabid fans.

Australian captain Lleyton Hewitt admitted that the atmosphere lacked feeling because of the neutral setting. French doubles standout Nicolas Mahut brought up how much his country’s fans ordinarily helped their team, but few were in attendance. Faithful support groups stayed away to show their unhappiness with the decision to scrap the old Davis Cup format.

I clearly understood what Mahut was talking about. I had been in Lyon in 1991 when the US faced France, on carpet, in the final. The atmosphere at Palais des Sports Gerland was electric, truly vibrant. The hosts were the underdog against US captain Tom Gorman’s team, which included Andre Agassi, the formidable doubles tandem, Ken Flach and Robert Seguso, and a 20-year-old making his cup debut, Pete Sampras. Les Bleus had not won the treasured trophy in 59 years. Prior to the tie, it seemed they could only hope for a three-day “Joan of Arc” moment.

 The revered Yannick Noah, the last Frenchman to win Roland Garros in 1983, had retired from competition in 1990. He was in his first year as Davis Cup captain. Though Guy Forget, who is now the Roland Garros Tournament Director, was solid, he was not in the same league as Agassi and Sampras. What’s was more, Noah was desperate to find a second singles player. He reached into his “magic bag” and selected Henri Leconte.

 Leconte was the poster boy for left-handers playing the game on the elite level. In essence, he could be wickedly brilliant and pedestrianly laggardly all within an eight-shot rally sequence. Ranked No. 143, after dealing with a collection of injuries that ravaged both his body and his confidence, he was an extremely risky choice. The final member of the team was Fabrice Santoro, a two-hand playing, shot-making magician. He had played in earlier rounds, but this was the final and he was only18.

Thinking back, my ears begin to ache as I recall the deafening support provided by the crowd of over 7,000. Initially, Forget was inspired and took the first set, 7-6 against Agassi. Thriving in combustible surroundings was nothing new for the American. He became more precise marching through the remaining sets 6-2, 6-1, 6-2. Leconte balanced the score edging a nervous Sampras, 6-4, 7-5, 6-4.

Flach and Seguso were never spectacular as a team, but they were reliably steady. Against Forget and Leconte, they appeared to by trying to escape the Titanic. The 6-1, 6-4, 4-6, 6-2 score reflected how unsuccessful they were at reaching the lifeboats.

Sampras was first up on Day Three and again seemed to be very tight. Forget took full advantage and secured a 7-6 3-6 6-3 6-4 victory. In was his country’s first Davis Cup final triumph since 1932 when the US also came up short. During the celebration, Forget said that he didn’t think the US team understood how much the Davis Cup meant to the French team and to the partisan crowd.

Years after the tie, Sampras admitted being overwhelmed by the crowd and reacting like a “deer in the headlights.” (He candidly said, “I choked…”)

Four years later he didn’t “choke” against the Russians. For me, being in the early December dungeon cold at Moscow’s Olympic Stadium in 1995 and watching the US prevail 3-2,  post-Cold War, against “new” Russia is a cherished recollection.

Captain Tom Gullickson was, as always, a discerning leader. Of course, he had a redoubtable group of players including Sampras, Jim Courier, Todd Martin and Richey Reneberg, who was a late replacement for the injured Agassi. The Russians had countered with Andrei Chesnokov, Yevgeny Kafelnikov and doubles specialist, Andrei Olhovskiy.

In what some called “Pete’s Cup”, Sampras, in a difficult to put into words encounter, survived a three-hour, thirty-eight minute slog against Chesnokov, 6-3, 4-6, 3-6, 7-6, 6-4 on ultra-slow red clay. The score, in and of itself, is still mesmerizing. But, seeing Sampras hit the match winning shot and collapse onto the court with severe leg cramps will always be a vivid memory.

As soon as he crumpled to the ground, George Fareed, the US team doctor, along with trainer Bob Russo sprinted to his aide knocking over some of the shrubbery surrounding the court. Sampras later admitted that it was humorous to see the two barreling toward him while he was thinking “all I want to do is straighten my legs.”

Once the medical rescue team and the patient moved to the locker room, Kafelnikov bested Courier, in the second, contest, 7-6, 7-5, 6-5.

Being 1-1 and playing at home with the backing of a vociferous crowd, the Russians appeared to be in the driver’s seat. This was particularly true with the doubles being the next match up. Kafelnikov was paired with Olhovskiy.  A steady, smart tandem, they were supposed to face Martin and Reneberg, who had never previously teamed up.

Keeping with the “Pete’s Cup” theme (and thanks to “Doc” Fareed’s icing and electrolytes treatment), Sampras was able to wobble around in the team dressing room roughly an hour after his singles match. He told Gullickson later that night he would see how he was feeling in the morning and if he was able to do so, have a hit and be ready for the doubles.

The team believed that Sampras was out, but as the captain said, with a “that’s Pete” look, “he came back from the dead”. Sampras admitted being quite sore before play began. Then the adrenaline kicked in. Martin and Sampras, who had won Queen’s that  June, managed to edge the opposition, 7-5, 6-4, 6-3.

I remember watching the match as if it was in slow motion. It overwhelmed my attention. Looking back, I don’t remember if I ever took a sip of the water I had brought with me to my media seat. I was absolutely engrossed. Actually, I was enthralled watching Sampras playing and doing it so amazingly well.

But, he wasn’t done. On the final day, he pulverized Kafelnikov, 6-2, 6-4, 7-6 to end the tie. Courier lost, what was an exhibition match, 6-7, 7-5, 6-0 to Chesnokov making the score 3-2. But, the real total was Pete Sampras, with an assist from George Fareed and Bob Russo, “3” and Russia “0”.

It is something I will never forget. Actually, I don’t think that anyone on hand could ever forget what unfolded during those three days.

In Madrid, ties were reduced to three matches (two singles and just one doubles) which made the contests Tweet-like. Instead of slashing the number of characters that could be used, the new look limited the essence of the product being proffered – Showcasing the players and their teams. The confusion became more profound on the rules front when it came to “play or don’t play” the doubles, the tie-break and translating the results procedure. It seemed only those with a mathematics degree could make sense of the situation. Additionally, with 18 countries participating, many fans, as well as players, ended up feeling they were meandering members of a “lost tennis tribe.”

Because of the venue’s layout, there was a chorus of comments about the need for trekking skills to traverse the architecturally pleasing Caja Mágica three court facility. Pathways and route planning came up short. Perhaps hosting such a huge spectacle at a new location brought about “never been there or done it” first experience jitters.

 Looking at the big picture, the most staggering aspect of the “new” Davis Cup has to be the 25-year agreement with $3 billion dollars at stake. How do tennis fans put these “Monopoly-money” like figurers into any meaningful perspective?

The quarter-century commitment and pledged funding are difficult to comprehend . The “unreal” combination of years and money brings to mind 1999.  That was when the staggering ISL (International Sport and Leisure) Worldwide-ATP marketing, broadcasting and licensing agreement for “elite” tournaments was made. It was a ten-year arrangement for $1.2 billion. Unfortunately, ISL collapsed in May 2001. Oops.

 Canada’s performance was stellar in reaching the final against Spain. Because of the “fairy-tale” quality that had been part of its success, “The Great White North” was looking to join Australasia, Croatia, Serbia, South Africa, Sweden and US each of whom took home the Davis Cup in its debut.

Unfortunately, having won the tie five times since 2000, the home country was a prohibitive favorite to earn number six. That Spain closed out the inaugural Pique/Kosmos/Rakuten/ITF Davis Cup, 2-0, wasn’t surprising. As a result, the Canadian first-timers joined Japan in 1921, Mexico in 1962, Chile in 1976, Slovakia in 2005 and Belgium in 2017 as debut finalists and history’s runners-up.

 With 24 years more to go, the new Davis Cup has potential. Still, the tennis world is trusting that the future offers more than just a quote from Bob Dylan, the 2016 Literature Nobel Prize winner.  Dylan, who many regard as the world’s poet laurate said, “Money doesn’t talk, it swears.”

 And a big budget doesn’t necessarily make it better. It just makes it happen. One can only hope that what seemed like a week-long exhibition will become more organized, less confusing and a tribute to the Davis Cup tradition.

A Special Remembrance
Mark Winters
mwinters@nsmta.net
November 2019

In 1954, Armistice Day became Veterans Day. It was a day to honor all the US military veterans who served their country. It should not be confused with Memorial Day, which recognizes all those who perished while safeguarding the nation. 

Armistice Day had originally been called Remembrance Day. It was first observed in 1919 in the British Commonwealth, recognizing the armistice that concluded World War I on Monday, November 11, 1918 at 11:00 a.m. The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month is especially significant because it ended what had been thought to be the war to end all wars. Sadly, it wasn’t, but the day has been set aside to honor those who helped keep the world safe from tyranny.  

An all-star collection of tennis players served their country during World War II. Few, though, could match the exploits of Gardnar Mulloy. He was a naval officer who commanded a LST32 (Tank Land Ship) in the Mediterranean during the European campaign. In 2015, the year before he passed away, he received the French Legion of Honor, an accolade presented for his involvement in the operations that took place in Italy and the Provence area of France. The recognition made Mulloy the oldest recipient of the order since it was created by Napoleon in 1802.

In “The Liberation Of Roland-Garros”, an article by Guillaume Willecoq that appeared April 4, 2018 on the website rolandgarros.com, Budge Patty revealed, “I experienced the liberation in Paris as a soldier in the 5th Army returning from Italy. I returned to the United States in January 1946…and soon hurried back here [Paris] five months later. I was 18 and wanted to be grown up - to study. I was actually heading to university when I got my mobilization orders. But after the war, you couldn’t hope to do that anymore. I lost two years of my life because of the war, and like all the young people in my generation, I had lots of things to catch up on.”

Patty offered Willecoq an interesting aside remembering, “At the time, you had to make do and mend, and we were certainly pleased to use the army-issue shorts as we had nothing else to wear.”

The long-time Lausanne, Switzerland resident was nicknamed “Budge” by his brother because, as a youngster, he was lazy and wouldn’t budge. In time, he became known for playing stylishly and dressing elegantly. He combined both of these attributes with movie star good looks. In 1950, he added his name to the record books by winning Roland Garros and several weeks later taking the Wimbledon title. Only Don Budge, in 1938, and Tony Trabert, in 1955, have achieved the same back-to-back slam double.

In 1957, at the age of 33, Patty added to his acclaim by teaming with Mulloy, who was, by the standard of the day, an astonishing 43 years old. They defeated Australians Neale Fraser, who was 23, and 22-year-old Lew Hoad, 8-10, 6-4, 6-4, 6-4 for the Wimbledon Doubles championship. The duo was the oldest team to claim a major title at that time.

The history of WWII is filled with captivating stories. One of the most endearing is about Tom Brown. He spent the much of the conflict in a tank… with a tennis racquet. He never really said if the racquet served as a constant reminder of his pre-war on-court success or if it was simply provided good luck or if it went on to inspire him at Wimbledon in 1946. However, after trading his Army khakis for white tennis shorts, he was a Wimbledon semifinalist, losing to Frenchman Yvon Petra 4-6, 4-6, 6-3, 7-5, 8-6. (Brown didn’t go home empty handed. He and Jack Kramer defeated Geoff Brown and Dinny Pails of Australia, 6-4, 6-4, 6-2 in the doubles final.)

Petra was the last Frenchman to win Wimbledon and the last men’s champion to wear long pants in The Championships final. In the trophy round, he defeated Geoff Brown, 6-2, 6-4, 7-9, 5-7, 6-4. It was a memorable outcome since he had been a German prisoner of war for two years after being captured in 1940, in Alsace, France during the invasion. Attempting to avoid capture, he seriously injured his left knee. Ironically, because he had competed in Germany before the war, he was known, which resulted in a doctor being sent from Berlin to treat his injury.

Lee Tyler, Brown’s longtime companion in his later life, responded to questions about the “tank racquet” admitting, “Tom Brown of San Francisco was the reigning tennis champ of Northern California when he joined the Army at the age of 20. He truly believed in tennis as a way to world peace. So, it was only natural that he packed his racquet along wherever he was sent. He was trained to be a mortar gunner and in February of 1945 was shipped to Europe with the 20th Armored Division of General George Patton’s Third Army. He was fortunate. The war was beginning to wane as they tramped through Southern Germany, Austria and France where he was assigned to a half-track.

“Nosing beneath the floor boards, he found enough space for his racquet. And there it sat, protected and ready for action. That summer his unit was sent home and he went to get his racquet. It looked okay but wasn’t. Two string settings had popped. Regretfully, he tossed it away.”

But there is more to the saga. Tyler happily recounted, “Tom’s army days also included condoms – they were free. Evidently the more the better. He built up a supply, thinking they might come in handy someday for something. True, they did just a year later. In 1946, he was named to compete at Wimbledon. He went over by ship, and had five racquets, all strung with the highest grade of expensive gut. How could he protect them from the wet sea air? Voila! He remembered the condoms. A friend helped him pull them over the racquet heads. First thing he did in London was to strip them off. The wooden frames and gut strings were just fine.”

Art Larsen, who was nicknamed “Tappy” because of his habit of tapping things for good luck, played competitive tennis for therapy after WWII. A talented lefthander, he was mentally scarred because he participated in the landing at Omaha Beach on D-Day. Following the war, he recalled the terror of watching US planes mistakenly bomb US troops thinking they were German forces. He admitted after surviving without a scratch, his behavior became even more eccentric because he had witnessed the terror having served at the front for three years.  (Then they called his condition shellshock, but now it is referred to as PTSD.

It is impossible to adequately pay tribute to all of those who, over the years, have made their country better through military service. In early September, the US Open took a monumental step by recognizing those in the services by celebrating Lt. Joe Hunt Military Appreciation Day. (Hunt was the 1943 US National singles champion who lost his life when his Navy Hellcat, a WWII combat aircraft, went into a deadly spin on a training flight off the Florida coast in early 1945.)

But, there are so many others who have been overlooked. Individuals who put their lives on the line around the world, in places like Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf Wars and Afghanistan to name but a few of the conflicts since WWII. Each of these individuals, in their own way, are heroes. Over the years, many died but, and this the essential issue, so many returned. They have attempted to slip back into civilian life unsung and unrecognized, forced to ignore the scars that often don’t show. Anyone who served his or her country should be recognized every day, because they are the reason we can breathe free.

They are among us twenty-four/seven and deserve much more than one day a year worth of gratitude. They should never be forgotten because they sacrificed so much so that we can live.

Allie Ritzenberg - Washington D.C. Tennis Legend
Billy Crawford
billyecrawford@gmail.com 
November 2019

Albert “Allie” Ritzenberg  lived to be 100 years old. During his lengthy life he became a legend both on and off the court. 

Ritzenberg was born in Washington D.C. His father ran a hardware store and later a salvage business. His mother was a homemaker. He, along with brothers Hy and Nate, became outstanding tennis players. In 1936, Nate and Allie won the D.C. high school doubles championship, and Nate defeated Allie for the singles title. As an 18-year-old Allie won the Middle-Atlantic Junior Championship and a number of other local and regional tournaments.

In December of 1935, it was clear that he would be a success after a Washington Post reporter, said he had spied, “a barelegged young man in a pair of midsummer shorts and a pair of woolen gloves” scampering around a tennis court completely “oblivious to the twelve degree (above zero) weather.”

It wasn’t in the least surprising that the youngster was Allie Ritzenberg.

As the Depression was ending, Ritzenberg entered the University of Maryland in 1938 and graduated with a BA in Sociology in 1941. While in school he played No. 1 on the tennis team, losing only four intercollegiate matches.

With the start of World War II, he entered the Army Air Force as a private. After spending 27 months with the 380th Bombardment Group in Australia, New Guinea and the Philippines, he was discharged, having risen to the rank of captain. Following the war, he did graduate work in Sociology at George Washington University. He received a master's degree while continuing to focus on tennis.

"I was a ‘restless-youth’ type, twenty years before that style became popular," he told Sports Illustrated. "I wore my hair long, ate vegetables, batted around in scruffy clothes. I knew what I really wanted to do was stay with tennis."

 He established the first Washington area indoor courts in 1945 – Cabin John Indoor Tennis in Bethesda, Maryland. He was President and owner of the club until 1953. The same year (1953), he began the first of two years spent as the Georgetown University tennis coach. He was the Director and Head Professional at St. Albans School & Tennis Club in Washington, on the grounds of the National Cathedral, where he coached generations of students beginning in 1962. 

In addition to the boys at St. Albans, Ritzenberg shared his teaching magic with First Lady Jacqueline (Jackie) Kennedy, George H.W. Bush, Chief Justice Earl Warren, Kay Graham, Robert McNamara and other members of the city’s elite. He also spent time working with former Wimbledon champion Pauline Betz Addie. 

For more than eight decades, he remained a fixture in the Washington tennis world, working to popularize the sport. At one point, there was a ten-year waiting list to join his club, which was among the first in the Washington area to prohibit discrimination based on race, religion or sex. He went out of his way to democratize tennis in the inner city and the suburbs.  He trod on this same enlightened path on State Department tours to Haiti, Libya and other countries.

Along his journey, he authored numerous articles which appeared in the Washington Post, Tennis Magazine, Health, Recreation and Physical Education and the New York Times.

He served as President of the Middle-Atlantic Professional Tennis Association and Vice President of U.S. Professional Tennis Association (USPTA). He was elected to the following Halls of Fame: Washington Area Tennis Patrons Foundation in 1983; Middle-Atlantic in 1996; The Greater Washington DC Jewish Sports in 1995; Washington Tennis & Education Foundation in 2014.

In 2004, Ritzenberg completed “Capital Tennis: A Memoir”, which is a captivating read. In Chapter 4, he explained his interest in playing senior tournaments, saying, “Playing on the senior tour has  given me a chance to prove myself, because I became a teaching pro early, from 1962-2005, at St. Albans School & Tennis Club.

"I had to give up amateur competition and never had a chance to make it big. So, with the senior tour I decided to thrown my hat in the ring and play against and with some of the big names in amateur tennis.”

On the senior circuit, he won eleven International Tennis Federation World titles and earned the ITF Men’s 85 No. 1 ranking in 2005. He was a member of five USTA International Tennis Federation Cup teams including: Men’s 55 Austria Cup, Men’s 65 Britannia Cup, Men’s 70 Crawford Cup and Men’s 75 Bitsy Grant Cup. Over the years he played senior tennis in Switzerland, Israel, Spain, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Soviet Union, Poland, Monte Carlo, Brazil, England, Argentina, Mexico, France, Estonia, Australia, and Chile.

Throughout his adult life, Ritzenberg was devoted to tracking down and purchasing tennis antiquities and tennis-inspired art. Much of his collection is now on display in the International Tennis Hall of Fame in Newport, Rhode Island.  Nicole Markham of the International Tennis Hall of Fame, who is the Curator of Collections, pointed out that the Albert and Madeleine Ritzenberg Collection was acquired in June 2004. She said it covers virtually the entire history of tennis from the Renaissance through the 1930s. It documents both how far back in time tennis goes, and the extent to which tennis imagery has become part of our culture. The 2,250 plus objects in the Collection, gathered in half a century of travels around the world, represent the passion of [a] well-known Washington, D.C. tennis pro Allie Ritzenberg and his wife.

“When we first started collecting, it was because we loved tennis,”  Ritzenberg stated. “But as time went on I came to realize that we were building something original and that assembling this collection was a creative act.”

Albert “Allie” Ritzenberg, who was born November 11, 1918, passed away November 22, 2018 at his Bethesda, Maryland home due to respiratory failure, was a very rare individual. He, in the true sense of the word, is now a legend. 

J. Emmett Paré – Still Remembered
Billy Crawford
billyecrawford@gmail.com
September 2019

Every area in the country has players who have been outstanding on court and equally impressive working in the local tennis community. With the passage of time, many of these special individuals have been forgotten by all but a few.  J. Emmett Paré is an example.

In 1934,  Paré became the men’s tennis coach at Tulane University in New Orleans.  He held the position for 39 years (interrupted by World War II when he served in the US Navy as a Lieutenant Commander.)  After the war, he returned to Tulane and also served as Head Professional at the New Orleans Lawn Tennis Club.  During his tenure as the “Green Wave” coach, Tulane’s record was 285-61-19. In 1949 and again in 1957, the team was an NCAA finalist. In 1959, the school won the NCAA Team Championship.

Moving from team to individual success, his players won eight singles and two NCAA doubles titles. As good as the squads were nationally, they were even better regionally, securing 20 Southeastern Conference Championships.

William (Bill) Tilden, Jr.,  wrote this about Paré in Match Play and the Spin of the Ball in the second edition of his classic book published in 1925.  “I must mention at this place the sensation of the 1924 junior season – Emmett Paré of Chicago. [He is] in my opinion the first great natural player the Middle West has produced in over a decade.  He seems destined for mighty works.” 

True to the prediction, (the year the book was released) , Paré, a student at Saint Mel High School, a Christian Brothers all-boys school in Chicago, was the singles winner at the University of Chicago Interscholastic Tennis Tournament.

A year later (1926), he entered Georgetown University in Washington DC.  He eventually became captain of the tennis team. As a player, he flourished, winning the Western Indoor Championship, the Michigan state title and the Tri-State Tournament in Cincinnati.  In 1929, he and Georgetown teammate,  Gregory Mangin, reached the NCAA Championships doubles final.

After graduating from the university, he won the US National Clay Court Championship in 1930. During his career, he competed against many of the best players in the game. Among his opponents were future  International Tennis Hall of Fame honorees such as Rene Lacoste, Wilmer Allison, Frank Shields, Frank Hunter, John Doeg, Bryan “Bitsy” Grant and Tilden.

In 1931, Paré joined the original Tilden Tennis Tours, Inc.  He often opened the traveling tennis show playing the first match against Hunter. Tilden would then face Karel Koželuh in the feature contest.  The tour began at Madison Square Garden, February 18, 1931, with approximately 14,000 in attendance.  From there, matches (one-night stands) were staged in Baltimore, Boston, Cincinnati, Youngstown, Columbus, Detroit, Chicago, Omaha and Los Angeles.

Lester Sack, a Tulane tennis team member from 1955-1958, remembered Paré, “He was a very classy guy.  I remember he wore a coat and tie to practice almost every day.  Only when he went on the court to play did he wear tennis attire. He could play the game, coach the game and teach the game.” 

Ron Holmberg played for Tulane between 1956 and 1959. He wrote about Paré, noting, “I, for one, feel very lucky to have been able to play for such a coach. A very demanding taskmaster; a brilliant tennis mind to explain the game very simply to you; a person who held academics at the very highest priority and a friend all wrapped up in one very humble person who instilled striving for excellence on every occasion. He truly cared for and took care of his players.”

 Linda Tuero was the first woman to receive an athletic scholarship at Tulane. She played on the “men’s” tennis team. While in school, she also competed on the women’s professional tennis circuit, (but didn’t accept prize money in order to maintain her amateur status). 

She recalled, “I feel privileged to have had Emmett Paré as my coach and mentor.  I was fortunate to pass his ‘tryout’ at the age of 11, and I never forgot the opportunity I had been given and what was expected of me. To this day, I remember my lessons so very well.  His favorite technique was imitating your bad strokes.  If I pulled away on my backhand and let the racquet head drop, he would demonstrate it in painful detail.” 

Tuero continued, “He told me over and over and over – sixty percent of the game is footwork. All this help was instrumental to my winning the nationals at 14, 16 and 18.  I was honored that he was present at the 16s in his hometown of Chicago.”

 After Tuero graduated from high school, Paré offered her a scholarship.  It was a landmark decision and it made Tuero one of the few woman, in those days, to be part of a men’s tennis team. 

 “But Coach Paré was courageous enough to do that,” she admitted. “He would still work with me in the summers and was instrumental in my winning the National Women’s Clay Courts in 1970.  He continued to work with me after I became a professional.  I was a quarterfinalist at the French Open (Roland Garros) in 1971 and won the singles title at the Italian Open in 1972. I would return home to New Orleans with my ‘scrapes and bruises’, and he would re-adjust my game back to the fundamentals he had given me.  I am certainly proud to have played at the top of my profession, but I don’t for an instant think I could have done it without Coach Paré’s direction.

“I treasure so very dearly all my sessions with Coach, and he has left an indelible mark on my life.  I know for a certainty that his teaching philosophy, personality and courageousness were what inspired me to reach my lifelong goals in tennis – both as an amateur and a professional.  That influence has lasted my entire life.” 

Paré, who passed away in New Orleans on October 8, 1973, was inducted posthumously into the Southern Tennis Hall of Fame in 2012. He joined the following former players from his Tulane teams who have been similarly honored including Hamilton (Ham) Richardson, Clifford Sutter, Crawford Henry, Wade Herren, Linda Tuero, Ernest Sutter, Leslie Longshore, Lester Sack, Ron Holmberg and most recently Jack Tuero.

​US Open Military Appreciation Day – A Story About “Two Joes”
Mark Winters
mwinters@nsmta.net
September 2019
This article was originally published on UBITennis.net, September 9, 2019

In early July, the USTA announced that it would recognize a former champion on the day it annually fetes those who have dedicated portions of their lives to serving the country. There is a great deal more to story about the decision for the US Open to celebrate Lt. Joe Hunt Military Appreciation Day. It is much bigger than resolving to honor the 1943 US National singles champion whose extraordinary accomplishments have, for the most part, been lost to all, but a few who cherish the game.

In truth, this is a story about two “Joes”. But, it is much more meaningful then the days when “Joe” was slang for a good guy. It is more significant than a reference to an American soldier, and it surely does not relate to a mere cup of coffee. These Joes are special. They are distinctly different, yet very much alike. One easily could be a movie character straight out of Hollywood’s “Golden Age.” The other seems to be a regular Joe but has proven to be much, much more.

The first Joe is Joseph (Joe) R. Hunt. He was born in San Francisco, California but raised in Los Angeles. He had it all. Based on his looks alone – he was blond and blue-eyed and built like he worked out at Muscle Beach in Venice, California rather than on the Los Angeles Tennis Club courts-he was ready for the “Big Screen.”

However, there was a problem. He was also a great athlete. He won the National Boys’ 18 and 15 titles. By the time he was 17, his playing ability earned him a 1936 US Men’s Top 10 ranking. Playing No. 1 for USC, in 1938, he never lost a team singles or doubles match. He rounded out the season taking the NCAA Doubles Championship with teammate Lewis Wetherell.
He teamed with Jack Kramer in the 1939 Davis Cup against Australia. With the US leading, 2-0, the youngsters came up short in the critical match. John Bromwich and Adrian Quist, a veteran duo, triumphed 5-7, 6-2, 7-5, 6-2. (Australia, in the only time the country ever trailed 0-2 in the final, ended up claiming the Cup, 3-2.)

​At the US National Championships played in Forest Hills, New York, that same year, Hunt was a singles semifinalist losing to Bobby Riggs, the tournament winner, 6-1, 6-2, 4-6, 6-1. In 1940, he was again a semifinals and Riggs again ended his run, narrowly slipping past him, 4-6, 6-3, 5-7, 6-3, 6-4.
Hunt was almost too good to be true. Besides his good looks and being a stellar player, he had charisma. And, people really liked him. What’s more, he was exceedingly realistic. He was aware of what was taking place in the world during the late ‘30s. His concerns led him to leave USC and transfer to the Naval Academy in 1939.

Two years later, Hunt was able to garner time from his duties and became the first (and only) player from the Naval Academy to win the NCAA Singles title. His military commitment kept him from participating in the US Nationals later in 1941 and again in ‘42.
But, he returned to Forest Hills in 1943. World War II was ravaging Europe and the Far East, so the US was only Grand Slam tournament held that year. As it turned out, the final between Hunt and Jack Kramer was a contest between two players on “leave”. Hunt represented the Navy and Kramer, the US Coast Guard.
​
On a brutally hot and humid day, the Naval Lieutenant downed the Coast Guard Seaman 6-3, 6-8, 10-8, 6-0. For both players, it was a heroic performance. When Kramer’s last shot sailed long, Hunt collapsed on the baseline of the worn grass at the Forest Hills with leg cramps. His opponent, who had suffered a bout of food poisoning during the tournament, slowly made his way to where the winner was sitting to shake his hand. It was a dramatic end to an unforgettable match.

The second Joe is Joseph (Joe) T. Hunt. He is the great-nephew of the first Joe. As is the case with almost all of those in the family, he grew up playing tennis. For him, it was in Santa Barbara, California. By trade, he is a lawyer, and practices in Seattle, Washington. He is also a member of the Pacific Northwest, (one of the 17 USTA sections), Board of Directors and serves as the Section Delegate.

Whenever he has an opportunity, Hunt heads to the court – not the legal one – but the one where he can play. He is as passionate about the game as he has been in leading the family’s effort to ensure that the first Joe isn’t forgotten. His dedication to this quest has been “Clarence Darrow-like.” As the clever 20th Century lawyer, pointed out, “Chase after the truth like all hell and you’ll free yourself, even though you never touch its coattails.”

Initially, Hunt sought to have “The Original” Joe’s name added to the Court of Champions, located between the South Plaza and Courts 10 and 13 at the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center. According to the USTA website, “The US Open Court of Champions celebrates the legacy of the greatest singles champions in the history of the US Open and US Championships. Each champion defines the essence of the talent and the character required to win at tennis’ ultimate proving ground. Inductees, selected by media from around the world, represent the tournament’s all-time greatest “the best of the best” whose electrifying performances have contributed to making the US Open one of the world’s top sporting events.”

The facts reveal that the Court of Champions was launched in 2004 and prior to 2019 only eleven more enshrinements had taken place recognizing ten men and eight women.
Joseph R. Hunt was killed on February 2, 1945, fifteen days before his 26th birthday. He was on a training flight when his Navy Hellcat, a WWII combat aircraft, went into a spin at 10,000 feet. It crashed into the ocean off the coast of Florida. His body and the plane were never recovered.

​The second Joe has done his utmost to see that the first Joe would be remembered. It hasn’t been an easy. He has been focused on the task since 2013 and has been aided by the entire Hunt family. Still, it has been a slog. Borrowing from Navy slang, throughout it all, he has always been “Above Board.”
As an example of the way he is, Hunt delighted in revealing, “I know that Joe was not the only player to not have a chance to defend his US National title. Ted (Schroeder) won it in 1942 and was not able to defend in 1943. They both were Navy pilots stationed in Pensacola, Florida. Neither was granted leave to play Forest Hills in 1944 so they both entered a Pensacola tournament held at the same time as the National Championships. Of course, the local tennis community couldn’t believe their lucky stars to have the 1942 and the 1943 champions playing a local event. It was billed as the ‘Clash of Net Champions’ and would supposedly determine the true No. 1 player in the country, despite that ‘other’ tournament taking place in New York.

“Joe and Ted both reached the final where ‘urban legend’ has it that they played their match in front of thousands of spectators on September 4, 1944, while Frank Parker was playing Bill Talbert in the final of Forest Hills – and winning 6-4, 3-6, 6-3, 6-3. I have spent hours trying to vet the truth of this story.

I know that it is true, I just don’t know if it is 100% true that the two finals were played simultaneously. In any event, Joe beat Ted 6-4, 6-4. Despite what many have written, this was, in fact, the last tournament match of Joe’s life.”

Hunt pointed out, “Joe went out for football at the Naval Academy because he loved that sport too and wanted to be part of a team…”

But, as it is with many of the stories about the first Joe, there is much more to the tale…Imagine, in 1939, being one of the best tennis players in the country and, in the world for that matter, then deciding to play football and being assigned to the junior varsity. That’s what happened to Hunt. The next year, he played halfback on the varsity and was good enough to help the team achieve a six win, two loss, one tie season. In 1941, he was a standout on a team that finished with seven wins, one loss and one tie, and ended up ranked No. 10 by the Associated Press. Hunt played so well in the game against Army, (the Midshipmen’s third win in a row over the Cadets) that he was given a game ball signed by the entire team.
As mentioned in the beginning of this piece, Joe R. Hunt’s life, ( his death aside), was fairytale-like. As the second Joe recalled, “…He left his immensely successful life in Southern California to enter the Naval Academy, knowing that it would make it nearly impossible to achieve his dreams of becoming a great tennis champion… He put the right things ahead of the game.”

All of the Hunts are pleased that US Open Lt. Joe Hunt Military Appreciation Day will recognize a one-of-a-kind former tournament winner. Speaking for the Hunts the second Joe said, “The family of Lt. Hunt will be forever grateful to the USTA and the US Open leadership for taking this action to honor Joe by permanently assigning his name to the annual Military Appreciation Day.”

He further noted, “Connecting a real person to Military Appreciation Day will help the US Open achieve its inspiring purpose for the event, and there is no more fitting figure in the history of tennis to connect with the sport’s ideals of patriotism and sacrifice than Lt. Joe Hunt.”

Joe T. Hunt continues to believe that the first Joe’s life and the sacrifice he made for his country has earned him a place in the Court of Champions…and he also looks forward to collaborating with the USTA regarding how best to memorialize the lost aviator and other military service veterans at the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center.
Simply said. during a divisive period in the world, people like Lt. is Joseph (Joe) R. Hunt need to be remembered and not covered by the dust that results from the passage of time.

Turville And Neely Started The First ATP Satellite Circuit
Keith Richardson
krichardson19@gmail.com
June 2019

In the early 70’s, the up and coming tennis player who wanted to try his hand at professional tennis faced a dilemma – How to get into the big-time prize money tournaments requiring an ATP ranking. The big-time tournaments were the only events that offered the elusive ATP ranking points. It was a vicious cycle indeed. Thankfully for the 300 plus players worldwide that were unranked, Larry Turville and Armistead Neely came to the rescue.

It all began in 1972 when Turville and Neely realized there was no clear path to breaking into the major tour other than showing up at a qualifying event prior to the tournament. Even then it was difficult to qualify for the qualifying event without points or without having an “in” with the Tournament Director. Ironically, Tournament Directors preferred foreign players who they thought were a better draw for spectators. The talent, in this second tier of aspiring pros, was unbelievably strong. Every player, including Turville and Neely, felt that on a given day they could compete with the big boys if they could just get into the big tournaments.

In the first year, Turville and Neely were able to enlist the help of Bill Riordan, President of the Independent Players Association Tour (IPA), which was an alternative to the ATP Tour. Riordan was intrigued by the idea of a circuit of tournaments that would wind throughout Florida from January to March with the winner and runner-up gaining entry to his Indoor Circuit the next week. Each tournament would have a draw of 32 players and would offer prize money of $2,500 (half from the host site sponsors and half from player entry fees, plus $500 from Riordan). The first year, the top twenty-four American players were directly accepted into the main draw based on their National ranking. The rest of the players, including the foreigners, were thrown into a qualifying tournament where the final eight players would gain entry into the main draw. Riordan liked the idea because he could count all the players on the Florida circuit as his associate members.

After operating as The Florida Professional Tennis Tour in 1973, Turville and Neely changed the name of the tour to “The WATCH Tour.” The acronym stood for “World Association of Tennis Champions,” and it became a badge of honor among players to say that they had played The WATCH. The new satellite tour was a success at the host sites because fans were getting a preview of some of the players that would soon be on the major tour. Even more important was The WATCH philosophy which stressed that the players needed to give back to the game to show their appreciation for the clubs hosting the events. To do this, each week there would be a Pro-Am, (which players were eager to play because they were guaranteed $50), and with some arm twisting, the players would give two free clinics a week, one for kids and another for women.
The circuit was an immediate hit with the players as they were able to hone their games during a usually dormant time on their schedules; get housing; and win a little money to boot! However, an important piece was missing: the chance to accumulate ATP points, providing a path to the major circuit. Turville flew to Los Angeles and met with Jack Kramer, President of The Association of Tennis Professionals (ATP), the organization that awarded points in the major professional tournaments worldwide. After Turville’s pitch, Kramer agreed that The WATCH warranted ATP points and asked Larry to draw up the format for how many points would be awarded based on the amount of total prize money for the circuit and number of tournaments.

A booklet was created detailing points, prize money, and the number of events needed to have a circuit. The minimum would be four tournaments and the max would be ten, followed by a Masters tournament for the top 16 finishers. After the completion of the Masters tournament, ATP points would then be distributed to the top 16 accordingly. The idea was that now countries all over the world could create these circuits. Finally, there was a way for the up and comers to get their first ATP points and, in time, move up to the major tour. The following year over a million dollars in prize money was available in satellite tournaments all over the world.

So, as the saying goes, the rest is history. At the same time, it must be remembered that The WATCH circuit ran for six years and was the first ATP recognized satellite tour. In the beginning Turville and Neely just hoped to have a place to play in the winter, but with the help of Bill Riordan and then the ATP, their vision created a clear path for players such as Johan Kriek, Heinz Gunthardt, Tim Wilkison, Tim and Tom Gullikson, and Andres Gomez to move from The WATCH to the major tour. It also allowed countless other players a chance to gain entry into tournaments all over the world and live the dream of becoming a touring pro.

The USTA first provided assistance in 1976 by funding a Tour Director position and took over running the circuit in 1980. David Grant, the Orlando Tournament Director, replaced Neely in 1974 and became the Executive Director of the Circuit. Shortly thereafter, Grant became President of PENN Tennis Balls and helped sponsor the circuit in 1976. Turville continued as the Tour Director until 1979. Today, there are no longer any satellite circuits like The WATCH, but maybe there should be a call for one like the one that Larry Turville and Armistead Neely began.

US Open’s Significant Numbers
Mark Winters
mwinters@nsmta.net
March 2019
This article was originally published on UBITennis.net, August 27, 2018

One of this year’s major US Open stories is in the numbers. The tournament is the fiftieth of the Open Era and the fortieth time it has been staged at the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center. But, for a select group of tennis devotees the August 27th until September 9th event is even more significant. It offers a “Lookback” opportunity, in truth a celebration, of Joe Hunt’s championship victory seventy-five years ago.

In 1942, Ted Schroeder slipped past Frank Parker in the US National Championships singles final, 8-6, 7-5, 3-6, 4-6, 6-2. A year later, Schroeder, in the military because of national preparation for World War II, was unable to defend his title. Joe Hunt took full advantage of the situation. In another All-American contest, on a brutally hot and humid afternoon, he defeated Jack Kramer for the title 6-3, 6-8, 10-8, 6-0 on the grass at the West Side Tennis Club in Forest Hills, New York.

When Kramer’s last shot traveled long, Hunt collapsed on the baseline and simply sat there, because he had leg cramps. His opponent, who had his own issues dealing with food poisoning during the tournament, was similarly exhausted. He, nonetheless, hopped the net then sat down next to the winner, and shook hands with him. Many years later, Kramer jokingly commented that although he was weak, if he had been able to last a bit longer, he may have triumphed by default.

Seventy-five years ago, the world was different. Beginning in 1939, World War II had devoured borders and changed Europe and Asia, (and not for the better). There were food and production shortages, and lifestyles were frequently altered. From a tennis standpoint, the annual fortnight in New York became a six-day tournament. The singles draws featured 32 players while the doubles had 16 tandems. Since many of the men were involved in military service, those participating in the event were not “match fit”. They hadn’t been competing since it was next to impossible to get leave from military commitments and, coupled with travel and gasoline restrictions, players were not focused on playing tennis tournaments. In fact, the US National Championships, (the only one of the four majors to be held during the war), had to rely on the government to release “limited amounts” of reclaimed rubber so that tennis balls could be made.

(Hunt would subsequently die fifteen days shy of his 26th birthday on February 2, 1945 when his Navy Hellcat, a WWII combat aircraft, crashed into the ocean while he was on a training flight off the coast of Daytona Beach, Florida.)

Hunt’s great-nephew, Joseph (Joe) T. Hunt grew up playing tennis in Santa Barbara, California. He is now an attorney practicing in Seattle, Washington and he takes advantage of opportunities to get on the court regularly. More important, he has led the family’s effort to ensure that Joe Hunt isn’t forgotten.

“I have to really spend some time to gather my thoughts on what the Seventy-fifth Anniversary of Joe’s victory means,” he said. “I have so many of them. Joe was a patriot from what is considered the greatest generation of our nation. He is the only American tennis champion to lose his life serving his country in a time of war. We lost him so early and so young. He never had a chance to reach his full potential, yet he accomplished so much by the age of 25. He was a remarkable young man, devoted to tennis, devoted to his family and devoted to his country. The family lost him, and tennis lost him. Over time, while the family continued to grieve the loss of our uncle, brother and son, tennis seemed to forget and not consider the meaning of this loss to the game.”

Tennis historians credit Kramer for developing the “Big Game” – meaning being a serve and volleyer. According to Bobby Riggs, a contemporary of his, Hunt used the tactic before the iconic Kramer.

“As maybe the first true serve and volleyer, Joe was changing the game itself,” his great nephew said. “He never had a chance to tell his story from his perspective. I feel I have been his only voice in trying to tell the tennis world who he really was and what we all lost.”

The original Joe Hunt was one-of-a-kind not only because of his athletic ability, but also because of his blond good looks and his marvelous charisma. As a junior, he was a star, winning the National Boys’ 15 and 18 titles. By the age of 17, his success on court earned him a US Top 10 ranking. In 1938, he was USC’s top player and didn’t lose a singles or doubles match. He enlisted and transferred to the US Naval Academy. In 1940, he was a halfback (American football) and played against Army that season, earning a game ball for his outstanding performance. The next year, he became the only competitor [ever] from the Naval Academy to win the NCAA singles championship.
​
Hunt continued, “Joe went out for football at the Naval Academy because he loved that sport too. He also wanted to be part of a team. He was the most famous player on the football team by a mile, and it wasn’t for football.” But, with all his stardom, he spent the hot summer and chilly fall getting pushed into the mud by seasoned players who wanted to make sure he knew he was no ‘star’ on their field. And he was fine with that. When he had the choice of skipping football practice so that he could play Forest Hills and possibly win it, he went to football practice. He would not let his teammates down, even though he was destined to spend more time on the bench than on the field as a backup running back. But, those on the football team respected him for it. They knew Joe’s tennis hands and legs were Davis Cup commodities and they saw Joe give them up for the team they were on. That is why they gave him the game ball for the 1941 Army Navy game, and every teammate signed it for him.

“Now, after seventy-five years, the last remnants of the greatest generation are bidding farewell, and we as a nation are at a moment of moral truth. How are we to say goodbye to them? How are we to remember and honor them? How are we to protect their legacy of saving the world for future generations? Each soul lost in the war effort is a part of that legacy. How will tennis address this? We just saw a great remembrance of the return of the bodies of men who gave their lives in the Korean War. Bringing home, the bodies after so many years was hugely significant to the families and the nation. I think of Joe’s body, never recovered, at the bottom of the Atlantic with his plane. It’s a sadness our family still bears.”

The times were unparalleled, which makes it no surprise that an unmatched backstory resulted. “I know that Joe was not the only player to not have a chance to defend his title, because Ted (Schroeder) won it in 1942 and was not able to defend in 1943,”Hunt pointed out. “They both were Navy fliers stationed in Pensacola, Florida. Neither was granted leave to play Forest Hills so they both entered the local Pensacola tournament held at the same time as the National Championships. Of course, the local tennis community couldn’t believe their lucky stars to have the 1942 and the 1943 champions playing in the tournament. It was billed as the ‘Clash of Net Champions’ and would supposedly determine the true No. 1 player in the country, despite that ‘other’ tournament taking place in New York. Joe and Ted both reached the final where ‘urban legend’ has it that they played their match in front of thousands on September 4, 1944, while Frank Parker was playing Bill Talbert in the final of Forest Hills (and winning 6-4, 3-6, 6-3, 6-3). I have spent hours trying to vet the truth of this story. I know that it is true, I just don’t know if it is 100% true that the two finals were played simultaneously. In any event, Joe beat Ted 6-4, 6-4. Despite what many have written, this was, in fact, the last tournament match of Joe’s life.”

Seventy-five years was too long ago to remember for most of us. Memories and treasures from that time are scattered here and there. Some are lost forever. In the case of Joe Hunt, his accomplishments, along with the individual himself, should not be left covered in dust and diminished by the passage of time.

Great nephew Joe Hunt said, “I think of a young man who stood for literally everything that is true and good in sport. An amateur who wasn’t seeking to profit off his game. He left his immensely successful life in Southern California to enter the Naval Academy, knowing that it would literally make it near impossible to achieve his dreams as a tennis champion. He intrinsically understood sportsmanship, camaraderie and good will. Everyone loved Joe. He played for all he was worth, but never took a ‘win at all costs’ approach to tennis. He put the right things ahead of the game.”

Remembering Tennis' Own "Green Book"
Mark Winters
mwinters@nsmta.net
March 2019
This article was originally published on USTA.com, February 28, 2019

The motion picture, “Green Book,” which recently won the Academy Award for Best Picture of 2018, reopened the public’s eyes and hearts when it was released last fall. The movie tells the story of an African-American pianist, Don Shirley (played by Oscar winner Mahershala Ali) and his white driver/bodyguard, Tony Vallelonga (played by Viggo Mortensen) as they undertake an eight-week concert tour through the south during the Jim Crow days of 1962.

As February—and Black History Month—come to a close, it’s an appropriate time to look back at the happenings and heroes of that time—not all that long ago.

“The Negro Motorist Green Book” was first published in 1936. It was designed to provide African–Americans with tips on how to avoid discrimination in their travels, when it came to places to stay, dine or even how to find welcoming roadways on which to journey. In essence, it was the travel bible used by countless individuals and families as they drove the North American highways and byways – not just in the South.

Few realize that tennis had its own Green Book. The information was never published; rather, it was more of a word-of-mouth sharing, as those in the know offered insight for African-American players as they drove from place to place in order to play American Tennis Association (ATA) National Championships and other tournaments.

“When the Green Book movie came out, I began recalling the days of my travel from Southern California with Mrs. (Eleese) Thornton and Earthna Jacquet, who was an outstanding player,” said Beverly Coleman, whose talent as a Southern California junior player put her on the road at a young age to compete in a variety of tournaments. “I was only 15 and travel was new to me. I did not have to make the arrangements or plans – Mrs. Thornton did all that.”

You see, for Coleman’s journeys—and for the travel of so many others—Thornton served as a living Green Book. An all-around athlete, Thornton (pictured above, third from left, with Roumania Peters, Eoline Thornton and Margaret Peters) was born and grew up in Kansas City, Missouri. As a youngster, she ran track, played women’s baseball and was an accomplished bowler. She was introduced to travel at a young age, spending summers with her aunt in Colorado. In 1926, Thornton, along with two of her best friends, moved to Los Angeles. After eleven years in her new home town, 1937 to be exact, she taught herself to play tennis. A few years later, she entered her first tournament, the ATA Championships, held in Orangeburg, South Carolina, where she won the Women’s 40 singles.

Coleman points out, “All I knew [when we traveled] was that homes for us to stay in – with tennis enthusiasts, or relatives—were lined up. People anxiously awaited the arrival of ‘the great ones’ who were driving all the way from California to ‘champion’ their local ATA tennis events. As is the custom throughout the south, our hosts prepared elaborate and filling meals for us.”

As a junior, Coleman was touted as the “next Althea (Gibson).” She went on to become a successful adult competitor, but she, like so many others, never became another Althea. Instead, Coleman focused her attentions on both healing and mental health. A resident of Sedona, Arizona for the past 24 years, she now draws on what she calls on her, “giving back experiences with Thornton,” as she operates Beverly Coleman’s Wellness Services, where she practices acupuncture, and provides herbal and wellness care advise.

Jean Richardson, who is now in her 90s, was talking with her good friend, Delores Simmons, a long-time Los Angeles based community tennis activist, about her experiences traveling with Thornton. Richardson told Simmons that their first trip together was to Albuquerque, New Mexico, “where Eleese had friends who took us in—as did their friends.” Over the years, they traveled to several other tournament locations throughout the country, and at every stop, Thornton would make the arrangements, ensuring a warm and welcoming reception for the young competitors. Richardson said, “Eleese always had friends that took care of us….”

As Coleman brought up, (and Richardson verified), “Eleese was the person who made all of the plans. In her ‘notes’, she had information about families that would provide housing.” Simmons, who knew Thornton well, noted, “She logged thousands of miles by car driving across the country to play tournaments. She knew so many people.”

For players of color, making a “road trip” during the Jim Crow era was very different than going on an excursion today. Looking back, Richardson told Simmons, “When we were on the road and got tired, we would pull over and sleep for short periods. At night, we often would go to gas stations, park in the back and sleep in the car. The next morning, we would use the facilities, wash up and continue on our way.

“While we were in different cities, we met people that would offer us housing, so we were able to build friendships and enjoyed the hospitality of the tennis community.”
Simmons admits, “Everyone understood the racial climate. The black community knew it well and this made the tennis community receptive to the tennis players coming to town.
And it wasn’t just in the Deep South where blacks felt the ugly hand of discrimination. Simmons says, “My parents were from Marshalltown, Iowa. My mother told me many stories about folks who stayed in her parents’ home when she was young. My grandfather worked on the railroad and the family had a large house, so when black entertainers came to town some stayed with them. The Mills Brothers did. I remember, as a teen, seeing a calendar with the picture of a man who became president of a black college and showed my mother. She said, ‘He lived with us for a while when he came to Marshalltown. Blacks couldn't even stay at the hotel downtown; they only worked as maids there.’ So, you see, it was not only in the south that discrimination was alive and well.”
Coleman recalled, “As a junior I also occasionally stayed at the local Black college dorms and did the same thing when my Tennessee State A&I tennis team traveled through the south. We stayed on campus.
“I have only one recollection of direct confrontation with white culture. It happened when we once had to go to the back of a restaurant and order our food ‘to go.’ I remember always having food in a cooler in the car – how it got there I don’t recall except that my parents had contributed money to Mrs. Thornton for my trip expenses. My mom regularly made a big box of food for us because we were aware that black people had difficulty getting food and accommodations on the road. We slept in the car while the two adults took turns sleeping and driving.
“Now, as I recall, I used to hear the black tennis players saying they often slept in their cars when they travelled the tennis circuit; that is, unless they knew someone who offered them a place to stay. I never heard them mention the Green Book.”
But to this day, many people of color who spent time on America’s highways as youth playing the sport that they loved will mention Eleese Thornton—a pioneer who became an icon to those she helped and to the sport that she loved. She was indeed a living, breathing “Green Book,” who worked tirelessly to help assure that those who wanted to compete in tennis could compete wherever they chose to.

As Simmons says, “For Eleese, tennis was life.”

Allen Fox – Ph.D. Candidate Who Played In The First Grand Slam Of The Open Era
Mark Winters
mwinters@nsmta.net
February 2019

On the 50th anniversary of the Open Era in grand slam tennis, a former player talks about his experience at Roland Garros in 1968.

The entire month of May, in Paris, fifty-years ago was a memorable and perplexing time. The local civil disturbance led by university students and workers eventually enveloped the entire country and nearly brought France to a virtual standstill. The police used heavy handed tactics in an attempt to clear the Paris streets of all of those who were seeking “individual rights”. (In truth, the reasons for the uproar were much more complex.) French President Charles de Gaulle stood strong and refused to resign. He finally decided to disband the National Assembly and hold elections on June 23rd. Though the voting made his Gaullist Party even stronger as it earned 353 of the 486 legislative seats that were available, de Gaulle lost. The French people made it clear that they believed the World War II hero had grown too old, too egocentric and much too out of touch with the times to continue as their leader.

While the riots were raging, tennis history was being made. Roland Garros, contested from May 27 until June 9, 1968, was equally revolutionary. It was the first Grand Championship of the Open Era. Allen Fox took a break from completing his Ph.D. in psychology at UCLA in Westwood, California to play the tournament. (It is ironic that the tumult in the work places provided the people of Paris with free time and looking for a diversion, they came in record numbers to Stade Roland Garros.)
​
The recollections of Fox, a regular U.S. Top 10 performer, offer “looking back” insight on a period when the game, much as the world as a whole, dramatically changed its course.

In his first-round match at Roland Garros, Fox routed Alfredo Acuna of Peru 6-2, 6-1, 6-0. “Alfredo was a great guy and became a good friend of mine”, he remembered. “He actually became the best player in Peru, but he was young then, and I was especially tough on young, inexperienced players. I don’t think I realized how good he was, so I was loose and confident. I always played matches at 100%, so I wasn’t about to ease up on him in a major championship.”

John Alexander was Fox’s next opponent. Soon to be 17, he was an Australian star in the making. “He was young and talented, and though I didn’t realize it at the time, I was slightly over the hill by 1968. But I thought I would beat him anyway because the clay slowed his attacking game down.”

As a UCLA undergraduate, Fox was a three-time All-American, between 1959 and ‘61. He won the NCAA doubles title with UCLA teammate Larry Nagler in 1960 and was the singles champion in 1961. While these are impressive tennis statistics, he was more fulfilled by his academic accomplishments. As a senior, he earned All-UCLA and All-University of California Athlete of the Year honors, which were presented to the Best Scholar-Athlete in the University of California system.
With all his “educational smarts”, Fox made a critically bad choice the night prior to his match with Alexander. He recalled, “I had never played him before. But I went out the night before the match and ate sausages and sauerkraut for dinner. Then I was up all night with diarrhea and vomiting. It was a hot day, and by the fifth set I was starting to cramp. I played ‘within myself’ to avoid the cramps, but when I got an easy volley and put it away for double match point, I got excited and really cramped. I was up 40-15 on my serve and laying on the court with cramps all over my body. Alexander was kind enough to give me five minutes to work them out, which I barely did. When I was finally able to serve, I ‘pushed’ it in. He returned it and came to net, and I choked on a backhand passing shot. On the next point, I came to net and he lobbed. I couldn’t jump, so I just stood there as the low lob simply went over my head. At 6-6, I finally had to retire”.

The score that went into the Roland Garros record book was 3-6, 6-3, 3-6, 11-9, 6-6, Retired. Fox added, “I was lucky I didn’t end up in the hospital. I was so dehydrated.”

He made his Roland Garros debut in 1965, and explained, “That was the year I traveled with Donald (Dell, who would go on to found ProServ, the agency that represented players like Arthur Ashe, Stan Smith and Jimmy Connors to name just a few of his clients). We spent six months in Europe and six months in Africa.”

In his first match, Fox played Billy Knight of Great Britain in the second round, (because both players had first round byes). After winning the first set 6-0, Knight took control and closed things out, 6-2, 6-2, 6-2. “I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember that he had a big topspin forehand, flaming red hair, and moved fast around the court. As an aside, I generally liked playing lefties (as Knight was) because they served into my backhand which was my best side, and they tended to slice their backhands (which Knight did) and I could get to the net attacking that side. Clearly, it didn’t do me much good against him.”

In 1966, a year later, Fox accomplished a never to be equaled triumph. Having just begun graduate school at UCLA, he rode his motorcycle each day from the university to the Los Angeles Tennis Club, in West Los Angeles, to participate in the Pacific Southwest. Eight of the world’s top 10 players were in the draw, and he scored a “personal Grand Slam” defeating Wimbledon champion Manuel Santana, Roland Garros titleist Tony Roche, U.S. National winner Fred Stolle and Australian titleholder, Roy Emerson. (The tournament was held annually the week following the U.S. National Championships in Forest Hills, New York, and Los Angeles served a stop-over for Australian and other international players who had played at Forest Hills and were on their way home.)

“In the round of 16, I played Santana,” Fox said. “It was a hot and smoggy day. I had grown up in Los Angeles, so I had ‘leather lungs’. I won a close first set, and Manuel didn’t have much left in the second. I look on it as a ‘cheap victory’.”

Roche was next up. “I started very well and began feeling I could play with these guys,” Fox noted. “I won the first set and was up 4-1 in the second and serving, when ‘the incident’ took place. On the first point, I hit the best backhand passing shot I had ever hit. On the next point, he hit a return and I scraped a backhand volley off my shoestrings. I hit it up the line and it was just in. Roche got to the ball and hit it two yards wide. In those days, the linesmen called the line through the length of the court. The guy making the call went into some sort of ‘psychic trance’ and signaled my shot was good. He forgot to call Roche’s out. The umpire, thinking the lineman had called Roche’s shot good, said the score was 15 – 15. I went crazy. I started jumping up and down in protest. Roche, who is one of the classiest guys you will ever meet, walked up to me and said, ‘I’ll throw you the next point’. I said, ‘next point, I want the next two, I should be up 30 – 0’. I really wanted to win the match because the semifinal was going to be on television and it would be seen in Los Angeles.”

After downing Roche in straight sets. Fox, who was half way through his own Grand Slam, faced Stolle in the semifinals. He remembered, “For whatever reason, I used to beat him regularly. Though the public considered me the underdog, I was confident. I had defeated him the year before at the Southwest, and felt I was the favorite. Because I was so confident, I didn’t play well. I played safe. It was a ‘hold on’ win.”

With another straight set victory in hand, Emerson was his final round opponent. “Prior to the start of the match, I would have bet a lot of money he would beat me,” Fox admitted. “He won the toss and elected to receive, figuring I would be tight. I won the game at love. In a short time, I realized I was playing very well. He had a tough serve, yet I would hold mine at 15 and would take him to deuce or have ads. The ball seemed to be coming ‘so slow’ I could do whatever I wanted. Years later I realized I was in what people have called ‘the zone’.”

Fox won the first set 6-3 and was up 5-3 with Emerson serving in the second. “I did get a bit nervous in this game,” he recalled. “I got the score to deuce and he served wide. I was outside the doubles alley and bunted back a chest high return that he volleyed into the open court. Ordinarily with Emerson, on a shot like that, the point was over, and you just moved to the other side to receive his next serve. But I ran it down, my legs were moving with lightning speed, and threw up a very high lob. He was on the sunny side [of the court] and missed it.

​“On my first match point, he ran a serve off the line and I hit the return into the net. On the second deuce, he served wide again, I just got my racquet on it, ran his volley down, tossed up another very high lob and he missed the overhead again. After missing his first serve, he played it safe spinning the second one in. It was short, and I really hit it. He ran wide, just got to the ball and floated a ‘duck’ back to me at mid-court. I remember running to the ball thinking I will never, in my life, have an easier shot to win the Pacific Southwest. I also remember not being able to feel my arm. I was so tight, but I hit the ball as hard as I could with as much top spin as possible. Thank God it went in.”

Fox remembered, “The crowd went wild. I got a standing ovation because I was such an underdog.”

After he completed his education, Fox became a widely recognized sports psychologist, and has worked with a host of players on the tour. He authored a number of highly respected books including “Think to Win: The Strategic Dimension of Tennis”, “If I’m The Better Player, Why Can’t I Win?”, and “The Winner’s Mind: A Competitor’s Guide to Sports and Business Success.” He also served as the men’s tennis coach at Pepperdine University in Malibu, California, for 17 years. Among the performers he guided were Brad Gilbert, Kelly Jones and Martin Laurendeau, former Canadian Davis Cup team captain and current coach of Denis Shapovalov.
​
“Looking back for players like (Rod) Laver, (Ken) Rosewall and (Richard “Pancho”) Gonzalez, Roland Garros in 1968 was very important,” Fox concluded. “It was significant because they had been excluded for so long. Now, all the good players could compete. The reaction of the amateurs was simple. With Open Tennis, there were more good players to worry about.”

Fifty years may seem like a very long time when one is young and hopeful. Looking back on those years is a curious mix of eye-opening reminders of a life well lived and every step that it took to arrive at today. The Terre Battue of Roland Garros was the red carpet that opened the door to countless players who spent years perfecting their skills and now, today’s players are able to take full advantage for their labors. Open Tennis provided that platform, and it all began fifty years ago.

Thirty Years Ago ...
Jimmy Parker
jparker@nsmta.net
November 2018

As they said at the beginning of every Lone Ranger Show (how many of you go back that far?) "Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear!" So that's what we're going to do. Almost thirty years ago, the tennis world was a different place. World Tennis Magazine was still preeminent, and its cover story posed the question "Who's the Best Ever?" The age-old question.

Open Tennis was only twenty years old at that time, and so the list of the Greatest Ever went back to the time of Tilden and before. With Sampras, Federer, Nadal, and Djokovic yet to appear onstage, the list looks radically different than it would today. We all know it's difficult to truly compare players of different eras, but this list looks strangely warped toward the old-timers to me. I find it interesting that with McEnroe at the top of the list, Connors and Borg don't even make it into the Top Ten! Nor Emmo or Rosewall!

And so here it is:

1. John McEnroe

2. Bill Tilden

3. Ellsworth Vines

4. Rod Laver

5. Lew Hoad

6. Jack Kramer

7. Ivan Lendl

8. Don Budge

9. Pancho Gonzalez

10. Fred Perry

Whaddayathink?

USTA Press Release on WATCH Circuit - 1978
Larry Turville
lturville@msn.com
November 2018

1960s U.S. Indoor Tennis at Its Finest
W. Newton Jackson, III
​twohandforehand@gmail.com
​November 2018

Beginning in 1964, the U.S. National Men’s Indoor Tennis Tournament was held in Salisbury, Maryland on the Delmarva Peninsula. Bill Riordan, a local merchant and transplanted New Yorker, had convinced the United States Lawn Tennis Association (as it was then called) to move the tournament from its site at the Seventh Regiment Armory on Park Avenue in New York City while that facility underwent renovations. The move was intended to be for only one year, but the tournament met with so much success in Salisbury that it stayed for over a decade.

​Every February for a dozen or so years, Salisbury took on a festive air when players from all over the world, including Chuck McKinley, Dennis Ralston, Manuel Santana, Cliff Richey, Arthur Ashe, Rafael Osuna, Thomas Koch, Stan Smith, Tom Okker, Jimmy Connors, Ilie Nastase, and Manuel Orantes—just to name several out of hundreds—arrived to play on the two canvas courts strapped to the floor of the Quonset-hut wooden civic center. The 32-man singles draw began play on a Sunday, and the singles and doubles finals took place on the following Sunday.

The viewing of matches was spectacular, because the bleachers practically touched the outside lines of the courts. Most of the players stayed with host families. Local kids acted as ball boys. The Jaycees acted as ushers. High school students came in buses from school to watch afternoon matches. Each night there was a tournament party at one locale or another, and, from some accounts, they were bacchanalian affairs.

​In 1965, the men’s singles draw listed one William C. Higgins, Jr of Lawton, Oklahoma. He played Francisco Gúzman of Ecuador in the first round. I do not know how Billy fared in the tournament, but, even if he had gotten through the first few rounds, he would have had to face McKinley, who won the tournament in 1964, as well as Wimbledon in 1963.

​One thing Billy Higgins did accomplish in Salisbury that February was to meet a local girl and, at some stage in their relationship, leave her in kindle. (For those unread in British literature, this expression has nothing to do with the software used to read e-books.) In any event, Billy and Jill married, and she and the baby followed him throughout the U.S. and Europe while he played the tour. In 1969, he was ranked 25th in U.S. men’s tennis—an excellent tennis player by all accounts.

​Moving forward to 23 October 1976, on that beautiful Saturday afternoon the undersigned was playing doubles in a tournament called the Salisbury State College Open. My partner and I had gotten through the first round and in the second round were to play C.J. Travers, a local teaching pro, and someone by the name of Billy Higgins. When I saw the draw sheet, I said to myself, “No, it couldn’t be.” Sure enough…when I walked onto the court, it was the Okie from Lawton (not Muskogee) and sure enough…out we went 6-0, 6-1. (I was able to hold serve one time.)

Billy and his partner eventually won the tournament, to no one’s surprise.
​The point is not to suggest that Billy Higgins’s career was in a state of decline because he was playing in a local tournament or that I had ascended to Mount Olympus to hurl lightning bolts at the other tennis gods. Rather, Billy happened to be in Salisbury because his in-laws lived here: he was visiting them; and he wanted to get a little tennis in.

​Moving forward into the 1980s, I got to know a fellow by the name of Jim Bochte, who was the summer-time tennis professional at Buck Hill Falls in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. One day I happened to ask him if he had ever heard of Billy Higgins. He got a big smile on his face and spent the next hour talking about him—all favorable. Every summer when I returned to Buck Hill, he would ask me if I had seen Billy, which unfortunately I hadn’t.

​Jumping still forward to 2012, I was playing in a USTA-sanctioned, 65-and-over clay court tournament at Belle Haven Country Club in Alexandria, Virginia and had made it through the first round. Afterwards, the club pro Steve Fiske introduced me to my second-round opponent, David Schermerhorn, who was living in Colorado. Unknown to me, David had grown up in Oklahoma. I launched into my “Okie from Lawton” story, and he quickly said, “That’s where I’m from, and Billy Higgins was one of my brother’s best friend growing up.”

​Small world, indeed

Inaugural Issue of Watch Tennis News - Summer 1974
Larry Turville
lturville@msn.com
​January 2018

ARCHIVES

Life on the Men’s Tennis Circuit
Roger Dowdeswell
December 2020

The Club Where It Happened: Notes on the Origins of USTA Men’s 55+ National Tournaments
Chuck Maland
June 2020

Davis Cup - Now And Then
Mark Winters
November 2019

A Special Remembrance
Mark Winters
November 2019

Allie Ritzenberg - Washington D.C. Tennis Legend
Billy Crawford
November 2019

J. Emmett Paré – Still Remembered
Billy Crawford
September 2019

US Open Military Appreciation Day – A Story About “Two Joes”
Mark Winters
September 2019

Turville And Neely Started The First ATP Satellite Circuit
Keith Richardson
June 2019

US Open’s Significant Numbers
Mark Winters
March 2019

Remembering Tennis' Own "Green Book"
Mark Winters
March 2019

Allen Fox – Ph.D. Candidate Who Played In The First Grand Slam Of The Open Era
Mark Winters
February 2019

Thirty Years Ago ...
Jimmy Parker
November 2018

USTA Press Release on WATCH Circuit - 1978
Larry Turville
November 2018

1960s U.S. Indoor Tennis at Its Finest
W. Newton Jackson, III​
November 2018

Inaugural Issue of Watch Tennis News - Summer 1974
Larry Turville
January 2018