In an exclusive interview, David Barrett, author of Miracle At Merion, talks about how he came to write the book and what Ben Hogan's story means to him:
DD: Tell me what your book is about.
It is the comprehensive story of the 1950 U.S. Open, one of the greatest events in golf history. To give the story depth, it goes into the background of the players involved and of life on the PGA tour at the time. Most prominently, of course, there is the story of Ben Hogan’s comeback from severe injuries suffered in a 1949 car-bus crash. The narrative of the book starts with Hogan’s victory at the 1948 U.S. Open, hits some key events in the two years leading up to the 1950 U.S. Open, and then gives a detailed account of the championship that proved Hogan was really back.
DD: What drew you to this story?
The touchstone is the inspirational story of Hogan’s comeback and the aura of Hogan in general. I also liked the idea of telling a detailed story about one of the game’s most historic championships. What actually sealed it, for me, was how many other great stories there were. Hogan wasn’t even the only player in the three-way playoff whose career nearly ended because of a crash. Lloyd Mangrum severely injured his shoulder when his Jeep turned over on him during World War II action in France, and was told he might not play golf again. Less heroically, Mangrum missed the first part of the 1950 season after reinjuring the same shoulder in a fight with a neighbor. The third man in the playoff, George Fazio, grew up in suburban Philadelphia, near where the championship was held, and had a scrap-metal business on the side. The tournament was nearly won by a player (Joe Kirkwood Jr.) who spent half his time as an actor, portraying boxer Joe Palooka on the big screen. The list goes on. It was also a chance to document the latter part of the hardscrabble, small-money era in pro golf before Arnold Palmer and television changed the landscape.
DD: What did you learn about Hogan in your research that surprised you?
Not too much about the man himself, since I had read his biographies. One interesting detail I learned was that when he first tried the West Coast part of the tour as a 19-year-old, he ended up subsisting for three days on some oranges he bought for 60 cents. Regarding his comeback, I didn’t fully appreciate that when he headed to California for the Los Angeles Open in 1950 he wasn’t sure if he was going to play or just make an appearance—at that point, he had only played three rounds of golf since his recovery.
There were some surprises about Hogan and the 1950 U.S. Open. For example, on the Saturday and Sunday before the Open, he played in a Pro-Celebrity Tournament in Washington, D.C. Another surprise is that, contrary to his reputation for precision, he actually sprayed the ball around in the third round and only remained in contention thanks to some good scrambling (he even hit a drive out of bounds). He did have putting woes in the final round, to such an extent that his brother, back in Fort Worth, sent him another putter via an airplane pilot friend. The putter arrived at Merion moments before the start of the playoff—but as he didn’t have a chance to warm up with it, Hogan didn’t use it.
DD: How did the accident change him as a person? As a golfer?
Hogan was genuinely moved by the outpouring of support he received from the general public after his accident—there were boxes and boxes of letters at the hospital. Before the accident, he was so grimly focused when he was on the course that he barely noticed the gallery. But at the U.S. Open playoff, Shirley Povich wrote in the Washington Post, “[Hogan] was gallery-conscious, and they liked it. For the first time in his career, he was probably trying to win for the gallery as well as for Hogan.”
As a golfer, there were comments from several observers after his first couple of tournaments back that he had changed his swing to account for less leg action. However, Hogan never talked about a significant post-accident swing change, nor, eventually, did commentators. The main difference was that, due to poor circulation in his legs, he had to limit his play severely. He entered 10 events in his comeback year of 1950, but found that even that was too many and halved that number in following years. But focusing on the big events might have helped him in the major championships—he won six of his nine majors after coming back from the crash.
DD: What’s the biggest difference between the U.S. Open as it was played at Merion in 1950 and today’s tournament?
There were no corporate tents then. Indeed, the idea that in the future there would be something called “corporate tents” at a U.S. Open would have been a hard concept to explain. No merchandise tent either. And a lot fewer people. Ticket records showed less than 10,000 sold for the final day. There was not a single grandstand on the course, nor were the fairways roped off.
There was no national television, but my research revealed the little-known fact that there was a two-hour television broadcast seen in select cities. Even in those cities, a lot of people didn’t have televisions. Whereas today the U.S. Open is viewed by millions, in 1950 it was seen only by thousands live—many of whom didn’t have a good view—and probably only thousands on the tube—watching a limited broadcast, with one camera behind the 18th green. There was a large radio audience, however.
DD: These events took place 60 years ago—why is the story relevant today?
It’s relevant because Hogan’s comeback victory at Merion is part of the fabric of the history of the game. It will be remembered for as long as the U.S. Open is played. And it’s relevant because Hogan still resonates. In fact, mine is not the only book about Ben Hogan to come out this fall.
DD: You’ve covered golf for many years. Are there any parallels to Hogan’s story in today’s game?
There will always be stories of golfers coming back from injury, though Hogan’s tale will be tough to top. Steve Jones won the 1996 U.S. Open after missing more than a year with a thumb injury that was not life-threatening but was career-threatening. And, interestingly, he credited reading Curt Sampson’s biography Hogan just before that Open for inspiring him.
As far as winning a U.S. Open on bad wheels, Tiger Woods in 2008 might have topped Hogan. Woods had severe ligament damage and a hairline fracture; his doctor advised him not to play on a leg needing major surgery that would cause an eight-and-a-half-month absence from the game as soon as that Open ended. But as far as Tiger coming back from a car accident, there’s no comparison there!
Read my review of Miracle At Merion posted yesterday.
Dave Donelson, author of The Dynamic Manager's Guides
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In 2008, the world watched agog as Tiger Woods won the U.S. Open on the 91st hole while struggling with a fractured left knee. In the excitement of the moment, little was said about a similar feat of physical endurance and mental strength by Ben Hogan in his epic victory at the 1950 U.S. Open, otherwise known as 
