All over the country, real- life Caddyshacks have been replaced by

ACTOR MICHAEL O’KEEFE IS AS CLOSE
AS IT COMES TO A CADDY ICON, YET
HE TOO OFTEN TAKES A CART.
Where Have All
the
Caddies
by Ted Mann
Photographs by Stephen Schmitt
All over the country, reallife Caddyshacks have
been replaced by golf
carts. Yet Westchester’s
love affair with loopers
perseveres.
I
Gone
?
n the weeks leading up to the U.S. Open, wandering the grounds of Winged Foot
Golf Club is as disorienting as waking up in a foreign hotel room. Everything looks
distorted and out of place: The west course’s holes are stretched like elastic bands,
and the east course’s terrain has been turned into driving ranges, parking lots,
and hospitality tents. With a bewildering 68 corporate tents, a 30,000-square-foot Trophy
Club, and a 36,000-square-foot merchandise shop, the sprawling spectator city might be
the club’s most visible alteration, but a far more surprising, and subtle, shift is going on
next to the clubhouse’s pro shop, in the caddy bull pen. After fending off the infiltration of
golf carts for decades and showing an unprecedented degree of caddy patronage, Winged
Foot’s place as one of the last great American caddy strongholds may be in jeopardy.
www.intownconnect.com INTOWN 2006
•
57
Of course, no Winged Foot caddy in his
right mind would put it that way. At $80 per
bag per 18-hole loop—mandatory for all
golfers—the bag boys aren’t exactly looking to quit the golf biz. But consider what’s
happened in the last few years. First, there’s
the disappearance of caddy day, a treasured
perk in which they get to play the course for
free on Mondays—days that’ve now been
turned over to corporate outings. Likewise,
the retirement of beloved caddymaster Pat
Collins left many part-timers without a
spot in the new, more professional caddy
regime headed by David Zona. The most
glaring change, though, is the loss of the
caddy shack. Once located between the
clubhouse and the Dudley Lane entrance, it
has since been replaced with a USGA trailer
and facilities for agricultural grad students
studying soil drainage and golf turf.
This year, in particular, will be rough on
local loopers; with one course closed and the
other commandeered by the USGA, Winged
Foot’s caddy ranks have shriveled from what
was once an army of 150—to about 70. Is
this just a fluke, a U.S. Open–induced off
year? Dozens of similar Westchester clubs
use caddies; in fact, the county is one of
the few remaining bastions of caddy-dom.
But according to the Metropolitan Golf
Association (MGA), in the last five years, six
percent of Westchester clubs stopped requiring them. Not a precipitous decline, but
enough to make you wonder: Could the rest
of the golfing world be right? Are caddies
just a quaint artifact, no more essential to
the game than argyle knickers and ivy caps?
These are the kinds of suspicions that
gave birth to the golf-cart boom. Yet for all
their apparent merits (speedier rounds, huge
club profits, mobile GPS course computers), carts haven’t boosted golf’s popularity;
quite the opposite. According to one recent
study of 669 golf-industry veterans, by Foley
& Lardner LLP, 95 percent were concerned
about the declining number of golfers. And
what do they blame? Carts. Older players say they fundamentally alter the game’s
rhythm, turning it into a herky-jerky affair,
where you zip from shot to shot and wait
impatiently to hit. Which is precisely why
Westchester avoids carts like the avian flu—
58 • INTOWN 2006 sound shore
WINGED FOOT’S PAUL DILLON, FATHER OF
ACTORS MATT AND KEVIN, HELPED GROW THE
WESTCHESTER CADDIE SCHOLARSHIP FUND.
why 92 percent of county clubs have caddies
(as compared to 10 percent, nationwide),
and 62 percent require them. At clubs like
Winged Foot, there are no exceptions. Even
if you’re handicapped and require motorized wheels, you’re taking a caddy, too.
Ask Westchester golfers, though, and
they’ll say that caddy programs aren’t just
compulsory; they’re as essential as wooden
tees and astronomical greens fees. There’s
even a kind of brotherhood made up of
former loopers, mentors, and caddy academies. I set out to learn about this caddy
community and it’s fringe benefits—including a massive caddy college scholarship
fund—and to see whether its clinging to
golf’s past or looking to the future. To start,
I spoke with a man who is a bona fide caddy
icon, an actor named Michael O’Keefe—aka
Danny Noonan from Caddyshack.
Be the Caddy
Show me an avid golfer, and I’ll show you
someone who can quote Caddyshack. From
Chevy Chase’s deadpan “I feel like $100” to
Bill Murray’s barbaric “It’s in the hole!” yalp,
the lines, like the classic film, bring a smile
to any duffer’s face. One of my personal favorites is a scene in which Chase’s Ty Webb
coaches his caddy, played by O’Keefe: “Be the
ball, be the ball, be the ball. You’re not being
the ball, Danny.” To which O’Keefe replies,
“It’s hard when you’re talking like that.”
The film is full of these ironic jabs. But
the greatest irony of all may be that Michael
O’Keefe actually was a real-life caddy, a summer looper earning $35 per bag at Winged
Foot, before becoming Danny Noonan. I’m
eager to ask him if the caddy culture portrayed in the movie—from 15-minute pool
privileges to bag boys beating members on
the links to scholarship showdowns—is at all
close to today’s Westchester reality.
For our lunch, O’Keefe chooses Nautilus
Diner, just a few blocks from Mamaroneck
High School, where he first earned his acting chops. Standing up in a pink booth, he’s
as tall as an NBA player, and his hair has
thinned since his 1980s feathered do. He’s
just finished filming a holiday movie with
George Clooney, titled Michael Clayton, a
story about lawyer redemption. He says this
last oxymoronic phrase with an impish grin
and skeptical eyebrow arch. It’s the same
look he used on Chevy Chase and Rodney
Dangerfield. The Danny Noonan look.
Though it’s been a long time since
O’Keefe’s caddying days, the memories come
flooding back. “I was a so-so caddy, but I
knew enough to know which end of the bag
goes on your shoulder, and I knew how to
club golfers,” he says. “It’s not rocket science.
Every club is a 10-yard difference, so if you
know how far someone can hit a 9 iron, you
know how far they hit a 3 wood.” But like
many of his fellow caddies—and the Noonan character—O’Keefe was more interested
in playing golf than in long-term bag lugging. “Good caddies are good golfers. And, if
I’d kept with it, I would have wanted to compete professionally. But the day I become
that level of golfer is the day you download
the golf Matrix—like in the movie.”
It’s an odd comment, especially to someone who’s seen Caddyshack a dozen times
and knows full well that O’Keefe has the best
on-screen stroke. “Well, Bill [Murray] has
become good since then. Looking at him
swing in Lost in Translation, he can crush the
ball.” But, O’Keefe finally concedes, “Compared to everyone else in the movie, I knew
my way around the golf course best.” This is
due mostly to Winged Foot club pro Tom
Nieporte and his assistant, Dave Schulz, who
gave O’Keefe a crash course for the film.
“The idea of any acting performance is
that you have to have some level of verisi-
militude,” he explains. “So when I wasn’t on
camera, I took golf lessons every day.” But
when I ask what part of the movie had the
most verisimilitude of all, he points immediately to the scholarship competition. While
the movie’s storyline may be remembered
more for Murray’s wacky groundhog obsession, the central plot actually revolves around
Noonan’s quest for a caddy scholarship.
“Initially, it was conceived as a rite-ofpassage movie for my character,” explains
O’Keefe. “As the name suggests, it was
originally a caddy movie, drawn from the
Murray brothers’ (Bill and screenwriter Brian) personal experiences at clubs in Chicago.
There’s a scholarship that’s associated with
the Western Open, and the whole premise of
caddy glossary
Airmail: A shot that carries completely over the green.
Clinton: A mulligan, or “do over.”
Looper: Alternate name for a
caddy, based on the 18-hole loop.
Misclub: Miscalculating a shot’s
distance and using the wrong club
(the cardinal sin of caddying).
Noonan: Another name for caddies, based on the character of
Danny Noonan in the 1980 film
Caddyshack.
Outsource: When one golf club
volunteers its caddies to
another club to help out with a
tournament or outing.
PHOTOGRAPH BY MARK VERGARI
Rabbit (aka Cart-Caddy): One who
carries a putter, while the players
ride in a motorized cart.
WINGED FOOT’S CADDIES ARE AMONG THE
HIGHEST PAID, THOUGH THEIR PLAYING PRIVILEGES AND CADDYSHACK HAVE VANISHED.
Trump: To fire a caddy. Usage:
“He airmails 18 and, because I
suggested a 3 wood, he’s so mad
he Trumps me on the spot!”
www.intownconnect.com INTOWN 2006
•
59
the movie revolved around Noonan winning
that.” In Westchester, O’Keefe says, there’s a
very similar fund that used to be run by a
family friend named Paul Dillon.
If the surname sounds familiar, it should;
he’s the father of actors Kevin (Poseidon, Entourage) and Matt (who was nominated this
year for an Academy Award for Crash). But
Paul Dillon is also a Winged Foot clubhouse
fixture and an unabashed caddy advocate, a
man who helped grow the Westchester Golf
Association (WGA) Caddie Scholarship
Fund into the second largest in the country,
paying out more than $3 million per year.
Celebrating its 50th anniversary in 2006, it
now sends 300 kids from 57 local clubs to 148
different colleges. He symbolizes the multitude of members who mentor caddies and
put them through college. As he explained
to me later, “Most of us [club members]
learned the game of golf by caddying. We’re
passing that on to the next generation.”
In Caddyshack, the scholarship angle
made it into the final cut, albeit as a subplot. “Once the filmmakers realized they had
these four comic forces on their hands, they
knew it would be wise to retool the movie
and lean on them,” O’Keefe says, matter-offactly. He isn’t bitter or annoyed about the
script change—or, for that matter, how he’s
still recognized on the street as Noonan. The
term “Noonan” has even become a synonym
for “caddy.” Sure, he was nominated for an
Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor
in The Great Santini (1979), and he’s had a
steady acting career with Kevin Bacon–like
reach and depth. But, like Norm on Cheers or
Newman on Seinfeld, he’ll always be known
by his pop culture doppleganger (what is it
about N-names anyway?). “Is it my favorite
thing? No. If I’m playing golf and someone
yells out ‘Be the ball!’ it’s not exactly inspiring,” he says with a smile. “Listen, I’m just
happy that, thanks in part to the movie, I’m
still getting regular work 35 years later.”
it’s a catered affair with nearly 100 kids, one
of the most diverse crowds (age, ethnicity,
sex) that I’ve ever seen. An African-American man looks to be in his mid-40s; another
Hispanic girl can’t be older than 12. They’re
not just from Westchester: Three middle
schoolers from the Bronx come escorted
by Peter Soans, an Eastchester resident and
Leewood Golf Club member. I grab a stapled
booklet entitled “Getting Started as a Caddy,”
and take a seat.
Brian Mahoney, the MGA host, stands
at the podium and starts by asking a simple
question: “Who here plays golf?” About four
hands. “Now, who here is interested in going
to college?” Every hand in the audience—
even the middle-aged guy’s—shoots up.
Mahoney reads off a PowerPoint slide
titled “Benefits of Caddying.” When he gets
to “scholarships,” the audience visibly perks
up, craning their necks to see the screen. Bob
Thomas, executive director of the WGA,
then takes the floor to explain the amazingly simple qualifications needed to obtain
a scholarship. “You must work two years at a
Westchester club,” he says. “That’s about it.
scoring the sidekicks
Caddies
Carts
average cost in Westchester (18 holes)
$54, plus tip
$25, up front
revenue that goes to clubs
0 percent
100 percent
wear and tear on course
Towel, apron with tees and balls
60 • INTOWN 2006 sound shore
Rain cover, GPS-enabled computers
pros
No attitude, always at work on
time, remain quiet during backswing, don’t smoke pot
Crack jokes, assist in selecting
clubs, funny nicknames, intimate
knowledge of course
Caddying for Dummies
Still curious about how exactly one gets hired
as caddy, I attended the MGA’s Caddy Academy at Fenway Golf Club in Scarsdale. Held
in the club’s conference room, a cliché of maroon-and-green plaids and framed golf ads,
Later, I corner Thomas and ask, incredulously, if there aren’t any other requirements.
“No,” he says. “We look at SATs and GPA,
but that wouldn’t usually disqualify anyone.”
What’s more, Thomas tells me, if you work
a year in the pro shop or other noncaddying
job, you’re still eligible. The award goes up
to $6,000 per year, yet for some odd reason,
the number of applicants dropped from 100
last year to 80 this year. “I’m not aware of any
qualified students who were denied.”
After the PowerPoint warmup, Caddy
Academy turns into an on-course primer,
Golf 101, with caddymasters from five local clubs teaching the basics. Rob Bucci of
Ardsley Country Club teaches how, on the
fairway, you can determine the distance to
the green by blue (200 yards), white (150),
and red (100) markers. On the green, a tan
and mustached Joe Barriero of Sleepy Hollow Country Club shows the proper form
for holding a flagstick—close enough that
you get a crook in your elbow to ease pin
removal, yet not casting a shadow over the
hole or a player’s putt. And Nick from the
MGA teaches bunker-raking technique.
cons
Expensive, sometimes expect free
lunch, often better golfers than the
people they’re carrying for
Give game a herky-jerky feel, ruin
grass on rainy days, deter players
from walking full course
Looper for Life
FORMER LARCHMONT LOOPER MATT NAGLE
STILL OBEYS THE UNWRITTEN CODE OF
CADDY-PLAYER CONFIDENTIALITY.
Enlightening as all this is, the would-be
caddies only start asking questions and making eye contact when they reach Fenway’s
pragmatic Gene Roberts. Wearing a black
hat, black shirt, and black pants, the caddy
manager starts on the black-and-white issue
of money. Officially, caddies are independent contractors—not club employees—
but Roberts says to look at the situation like
entrepreneurs. As he puts it, every fee and
tip is pure profit. Wiping down a player’s
clubs and ball on each hole? Fat tip. Having your cell phone ring during someone’s
backswing? No tip. Most interesting of all,
he answers one 15-year-old’s question of
where to look for a job. This, after all, is the
point of the Academy, and Roberts is blunt:
“Not here. We’ve got lots of construction,
and not enough play. Same for Winged Foot
with the U.S. Open. Avoid them. Westchester Country Club [in Rye] and Ridgeway [in
White Plains] are much better bets.”
The boy who asked that question was
Devon Brown, a bushy-haired cargo-panted
Mamaronecker, who I remember as one of
the four caddy hopefuls who actually play
golf. “I just started a year ago, but I want to
learn more,” he tells me. “Playing privileges
are really important to me.” I ask Devon if
he’s heard about some of the clubs cutting
back on caddy Mondays, and he shrugs. “I’m
going out next week with a senior caddy at
Westchester to do an interview. I’ll ask him.”
Back inside the conference room, the savvier kids cozy up to caddymasters Roberts,
Bucci, and Barriero—all in the hopes of
making it to round two of Caddy Idol. After
today, most clubs will host their own more
rigorous training course, by invitation only.
Bucci’s program at Ardsley will have 20 kids,
training after hours (5–8 p.m.) for six to seven weeks. Barriero is taking on only 10 kids
for his May class, but that’s partly because so
many of his 85 total caddies are returning.
“When I started at Sleepy Hollow in
1973, there was no rule requiring you to use
caddies,” he says. “In 1976, they decided to require it, and I’ve been recruiting ever since.”
In those 30 years, however, he’s had only two
female caddies who can handle the hilly terrain, and only a few regulars who don’t love
golf. “The truth is, it’s not a great moneymaking job. Some days you don’t make any,”
says Barriero. But, adds Bucci, “For the kids
who know nothing about golf, caddying is
still one of the best ways to learn.”
“For 11 years, caddying was the joy of my
life. I had a great tan, was fit, my wallet was
full, and I got to hang with my friends all
day,” Matt Nagle tells me, walking somberly
around the USGA/grad student village that
used to be Winged Foot’s caddyshack. Like
many loopers, Nagle got started at age 13
through a kind of extended nepotism (his
uncle was a member), and quickly found that
the job was far better than waiting tables.
Though he’s lugged bags for everyone
from Donald Trump to Denis Leary, Nagle
refuses to share anything they said or did.
“There’s a kind of doctor-patient confidentiality,” he says. “Sure, there’s gossiping. You’ll
hear about who’s cheating on whom, who’s
getting indicted. But what happens on the
course stays on the course.” Perhaps this explains why, when we run into one of Nagle’s
former caddy colleagues, Omar, a Jamaican
journeyman of nine years, he isn’t talkative.
Nagle also caddied at the U.S. Amateur—
an experience that got him on ESPN—and
later earned a WGA scholarship to attend
Fordham. When he revisits Winged Foot
now, postcollege, he’s overcome with a mix
of nostalgia and giddiness. “When I was 16,
this place really did resemble Caddyshack,
with kids hanging out in windpants and
trading stories,” Nagle says. Gradually,
though, the number of caddies dwindled.
“Honestly, there were too many before,”
he says. “It’s supply and demand, and the
club needed an equilibrium.” Plus, he adds,
“Serious golfers want serious caddies. That
means guys like Omar, who do it full-time.”
But for home-grown Westchester caddies, the job isn’t long-term. Nagle has since
gone on to become a financial analyst, and
O’Keefe, in addition to acting, is getting an
MFA in creative writing. Yet they’ll always be
proud members of the former-caddy fraternity. For evidence of its size in Westchester,
just look at the bag tags on the rack of any
local course. You’ll see dozens of plastic
medallions depicting a mortarboard-wearing caddy—the logo of WGA scholarship
fund recipients. They seem to echo a shared
sentiment: No matter how speedy or gizmopacked or profitable EZ-Go carts get, they’ll
never replace our beloved Noonans.
www.intownconnect.com INTOWN 2006
•
61