Open Warfare

Countdown for Blastoff, X-5 or 3, 2, X-1, Fire. From the far horizons of the unknown, come transcribed tales of new dimensions in time and space.

These are stories of the future. Adventures in which you'll live in a million could be years on a thousand maybe worlds. The national broadcasting company in cooperation with Galaxy's Science Fiction magazine presents X ticks ticks ticks15 minus, minus, minus, minus, minus,horn one.

Tonight, the time is 1965. The place, a golf course. The story, Open Warfare. You wouldn't believe it, but there are some people to think that Chaddie is a pet name for a big car. I mean, over those little wagons you pull around the course carrying their own clubs, there were people actually playing golf for years and have never

seen a caddy. As far as I'm concerned, you take the human element out of golf for any sport and what do you got left? Nothing. I mean, you could say I'm prejudiced and I kind of might be in a caddy, but that's the way I feel about it.

Besides which a caddy is a perfect observer of the passing parade of human experience. I give you, for instance. Now you take Jim Pearson. He won the U.S. Open in 1960, 61, and 64. Well, let me tell you about Jim Pearson.

He was the pro at the club here, and I remember when it all started. He was out playing with Mr. Hatcher. That Sam Hatcher, he couldn't break 90 if the ball had wings. In the locker room, he looked like a sack of flour that had been set down hard.

But he was loaded with money. Anyway, they were waiting for a force of a dame, so he shouldn't have been wearing slacks. When Hatcher turned to Jim and with a real sweet smile, he lowered the boom.