A Clown Act

Not so long ago we attended a performance in a vaudeville theatre and laughed through a highly amusing clown act. This mad fellow was provided with numerous accessories all of which failed him in doing the thing they were supposed to do. There was an explosion in his automobile when he cranked it, and, after he finally got aboard, the machine fell apart. He shot at a waddling duck with a tin blunderbus and a score of stuffed cats fell from the sky. Finally he demonstrated his skill as a golfer, with a club that did everything but hit the ball, wrapping itself around his neck, folding up, and as a finale, fell into fragments like everything else he had. Childish entertainment perhaps, but that clown made the folks laugh.

This has a parallel in the clowns of the day, who are wasting money in picking up the bargain clubs which are advertised and displayed for sale, exactly like the suit of clothes, marked "Nobby" on the show window card which further exhorts the yokel to "Take me home for six eighty-eight." And lots of them are taken home for the first rain to show up the shoddy.

The bargain clubs of the days of cheap prices are junk and their existence is explained away by blaming the well known depression for conditions which make low prices possible. In some few instances overstocking and the introduction of new models have in a measure justified some bargain offerings, but for the most part the clubs are junk. It is a clown act.

It is claimed that these new sets of "matched" clubs are putting golf closer to the grasp of the multitude. Personally, we believe that the "four million" crave a sound club for an honest blow, and that is precisely what they will have at a fair price for actual quality.

Certainly we have no personal interest whatever in the sale of golf clubs, but after taking in our hands some of these awful bludgeons, there comes rippling forth the laugh that followed the clown’s antics and any price, no matter how low, is much too high for such worthless material.

Not only is it necessary to use material of the very highest grade in building a true golf club, but experienced craftsman must have their hands in it, too. Quality and brains cannot have any part in the quantity production of the tin-atrocities. Of course the condition is merely temporary, but while it exists it is lamentable. If, however, it is just a clown act to make real golfers laugh, it is eminently a success.