A Part of Herstory Comes to LIfe

A part of herstory, my story, is history and a colorful journey through the time in which my parents grew to adult hood. 

The Golf Gypsy, Literally Letty

In July 1984, my home, the Tudor style clubhouse in Miami, Oklahoma burned to the ground. To this day, a part of me can walk through the clubhouse from the basement to the top attic home, where custodians of her history lived.  I walked and crawled through the empty attic and listened the sounds below. The children's room balcony, the bar, the locker rooms, the golf shop, and **snake pit my father dug out of the clay basement where golf carts were stored, all are part of my deepest memories.  My childhood and that of my sister's, Jonya Lea Stapp,  began there  in 1954 when our father and mother moved from Independence, Kansas to Miami to take the job as Head Professional Golfer and Instructor, along with greens superintendent, and manager of the clubhouse. 

In those days, the golf professional made his money from a salary, giving golf lessons to members, golf shop income, and in the middle fifties, dad bought the first set of gasoline golf carts. The income from the golf carts became the money that sent my sister and I to college. Mother became the book keeper for the golf shop, but the larger income from the social gathering aspect remained on different books, kept by a secretary accountant. The country club was privately owned and operated by its members, so my father reported to the President of the club from year to year. 

Because my parents shared so many roles in the running of the golf shop, my sister and I were practically raised there, even though we lived in town. As a result my childhood memories are filled with those colorful people and days.

The country club began in 1914, thanks to the foresight of a committee of men, and one major investor, George Coleman.  1914-1929 Rockdale Country Club

Our very first golf professional in 1921, was Ed Dudley, who went on to become the first Golf Professional at Augusta National Golf Club. He was hired by the most notable amateur to play the game of golf, Bobby Jones.  Ed Dudley's Golfing Career. Dudley designed the original four golf holes with sand greens. 

Pieces of Professional Golf History in Oklahoma began to fall into place as I read the newspapers from Miami, Ok, and Joplin, Missouri. One quick fact that caught my attention was this line from 1924 April 11:

1924 April 11    G. L. Coleman elected President of Rockdale CC by the seven directors: Ed Millner, Ross R Bayless, J.A. Robinson, A.C. Wallace, L.A. Thompson and R.W. Skinner.

Rockdale CC will become a member of the state golf association, which will give all members of the local club the right to play on the course of any other club in the state, which is a member of the association without having to pay a green fee.

Can we even imagine times like these? Women were playing golf and our local newspapers carried regular information on calendar events for both women and men.  

When the depression hit the country, citizens of Ottawa county and the Tri-State area, were not hit as hard as other areas of the country, because of the discovery of lead and zinc in the late 1800's. By World War I the Tri-State area of Oklahoma, Missouri, and Kansas became one the most prolific producers of lead and zinc that were needed for the war effort. As a result lead and zinc mining kept the area employed. Sadly, there were no government regulations placed on mining in those days, as a result our current history of my home area is darkened by the EPA reports of the poisoned Tar Creek area of Ottawa County. 

Between 1927-30 George Coleman a major investor in the mining area built one of the world's most  renowned theatres:  The Coleman Theatre which opened April of 1929. 

That same year in December the Rockdale Country Club opened its doors to the new Clubhouse.

This building c. 1929 became our home from 1954--1976 when my father retired. 

From 1928--1946 the Miami Golf and Country Club became a regular host for the Oklahoma PGA. However, reports vary on this particular golf tournament and records that might have explained when it was medal play and when it was match play burned in a fire a few decades ago. I found it quite exciting to read how involved the community of Miami became in the game of golf thanks to the newspapers coverage of the tournaments and the well-known names who came to town. A gallery was a regular at these events. Miami at that time had caddy's and a caddy shack located off the north side of hole #1. Oklahoma PGA Championships

Through the 1930's golfers in the tri-state area, including women, traveled often to play other golf courses. Often our Miami New-Record ran AP and other sports stories. This is one I found especially interesting:

1932 April 7 MNR The headlines read: Headaches May Help Lower Golf Score according to Dr. C. R. Griffith, psychological research director of athletics at U.of Illinois. "The golf player with a headache has the advantage over his companion who feels 'fit as a fiddle.' The headache keeps him from pressing and from experimenting. He is out merely to play the game and this means he is out to do that which he has been most in the habit of doing." "If a man goes into a golf game feeling fine, either of two things may happen. He may start to make each hole in one and thus be guilty of pressing. Or he may experiment. Pressing breaks up timing and rhythm. Experimenting may lead to disaster. The man who has a headache or is not at his best, will not be guilty of pressing. He will play his natural game."

There may be some hidden truth to this statement.

In 1934 funds were raised by a team of Miamians to purchase the debt of the Rockdale Country club and change it's name to the Miami Country club. 

Though most of the sports writers used very descriptive language and vocabulary there were a few writers who gallantly took time to rib the local golfers and their status in the community, many of the events that would presently make Facebook news:

 George Coleman, Jr, club president, has suggested that the Miami membership stage a big stag party on the eve of the pro-am, draw names of the amateurs with the pros and form a Calcutta pool. A percentage obtained from the pool will be used for cash prizes for the pros and merchandise for the "simon pures." (Men of  financial means were sarcastically called 'Simon Pures' by the press or media. They were considered men who could play golf six days a week pick up a little cash, and call themselves amateurs.)

The women golfers were also active social ladies and bridge club members. They took on the roles of organizing seasonal decorations and dances, selecting area bands to play for entertainment, helping with various local groups. Well into my childhood through the 1960's I remember the earnest attention they gave to decorations and modeling of the newest décor. 

St. Patrick's decorations, spring violets and an abundance of good food, together with the hospitality extended by the three hostesses, Mesdames H.B. Coban, Carl Britt and Lloyd Newton, made the ladies' day at Miami Country club one of the outstanding of this season. Potted Shamrocks, green tapers and crepe paper were used on the luncheon tables. High score at the bridge was won by Mrs. A.C. Wallace. The sewing prize was awarded to Mrs. Roy Green. The next luncheon will be served by the club cateress and the hostesses on the occasion will be Mrs. L.A. Wetzel and Mrs. Matt Connell.  Members playing in foursomes are urged to have lunch with the group and play at reserved tables afterwards. There will be no additional charge for such reservations.

Note that the women were referred to as Mesdames through the 1940's. First names of the women were rarely if ever used in reference to golf tournaments and scoring. They went by their husbands names. This piece of history can be seen on the trophies of the era through the 1970's. 

This small red tee, only one inch and a half long, is a personal souvenir from a thirteen year old golfer and Bing Crosby fan, Sarah Hilliard Mirjanick. Sarah received this autographed tee from Bing Crosby on the day he played golf in Miami. (September 25, 1942) The picture of the tee is shared by Sarah's daughter, Rebecca Mirjanick Davis. 

**Stay tuned for the TIMELINE and personal stories that I can add through the 1950’s and 1960’s. Use this URL to access any of the Miami Golf and Country club blog:  <https://mgcchistory.blogspot.com/>

** The snake pit might have seen snakes wonder through it, but it was built or dug out for the purpose of practicing golf during the winter. My father set up a mat and a large indoor/outdoor net that held the golf balls hit from a player on the mat. There was room for only one player (or one couple hiding behind the net and kissing). It also stored hidden beers and liquors that were illegal in Oklahoma in the 1950's-early 1960's. 

*** To read more stories from the early days of golf in Oklahoma and the Miami Golf and Country Club TIMELINE please click on the following links.

1914-1929 Rockdale Country club  Later Rockdale became the Miami Country Club

1930-1934 Miami Country club 

1935-1937 Miami Country Club

1938 The Club Enters a New Era

1938 Miami Country Club

1939 Miami Country club

Ed Dudley's Career

Tee Shots: Golf Lessons

Oklahoma PGA Champions

Golf's Man of the Decade 1930-1939

1940 Miami Country Club's Course Layout

Taking Center Stage: A True Story 1958

 

Tom and Virginia Lee Wilson’s Dance Recital memory

Miami Memories

 

View from the balcony (where the lovers used to meet).

        Before the floodlights and spotlights brush the stage, before the music begins and the plush burgundy curtains part, a world appearing in crisis is scurrying back stage, but the black and white photo of three future Rockettes shows childhood confidence and pride moments before the curtain call.  Three little girls are posing by the stage door, proudly grinning ear to ear in their colorful neon orange costumes, standing like Rockettes with an outside arm on the hip and the inside arm over shoulder, arm over shoulder, arm over shoulder and closed by an outside arm on the hip.

        Much of the excitement of that dance recital so many years ago is lost in the black and white shades of the Brownie Kodak camera photo (now lost on paper but not in my memory).   Our boots glistened pure white and silver tassels hung from the boot top.  Our white cowboy rolled hats were placed squarely on our heads with chins straps securely holding the hat in place.  Two blue eyed blondes adorned my sides while my shoulder length brunette hair hung to my shoulders.  No braces, no glasses, no earrings, no curves to our bodies, shapeless, yes, but lips flashed of Elizabeth Taylor red. Many of our mothers who never let us wear makeup allowed Virginia Lee and her mother to carefully line our lips and make us shine on stage.

        Our short dance dress costumes were sewn in the newest shiny neon material (never before seen on stage).  Mine a brilliant orange while my bookend friends are dressed in contrasting chartreuse green.  We could have passed for characters in Alice in Wonderland with those flashy colors.   The bodice of our costumes was fitted with darts and little puff sleeves.  I was mortified that I had darts, for I certainly didn’t own a bra, wear a bra, nor would I ever be caught dead in a bra.  Just the same I had darts up from the waist and arrowing across my flattened chest, but a giggle from some of us echoed that it was about womanhood.

        The twelve inch circular skirt was sewn to the bodice with a long zipper going up the back.  Unlike the surrey in the play Oklahoma our skirts had a fringe on the bottom.  Not just any fringe but silver glistening threads that sparkled in the flood lights.  When our dancing legs kicked in line our matching bloomers showed, and our conservative parents laughed.  The motivation to kick high came easily in our costumes.

        Now the Wilson Dance Recital was upon us.  A covey of nervous young girls huddled back stage awaiting the musical cue, but in the stilled silence of the dancers nervous breathing we could smell the stench of rotten fish emanating from a nearby unknown source.  Not a breath of air circulated back stage on that sultry June evening.  The sounds of “ Pee—ew” grew louder as the stench grew stronger the closer we all gathered.  Eyes scanned the area on the floor looking for the source of the sickening smell.  Mothering stage hands flew to our huddle to silence our fears, but nothing could silence the smell so strong that flowers could wilt and eyes could tear.   Suddenly, a whispered screamed and finger pointing explosion came my way.  “It’s you.  It’s you.  It’s on your back.” 

        “Smell it.  It’s on your back! Ugh, Letty.”

        “On my back,” I whispered in angry humiliated tones.  Nearly wrenching my neck peering backwards. I begged,  “Get it off whatever it is.”  All I could imagine was a dead stink bug stuck to my neon orange costume.

        No, the black and white photo does not show the oval tent shape of an iron left too long in place on the back of a costume from my mother's attempt to iron the wrinkles, nor the stench that arose from that never before used shiny neon material.  Nor does it show the disgust and moans of the dancers around a young girl when it was discovered that I was the source of the unusual odor only seconds before hearing our queue.  Before I could run and hide the music began.  My head snapped up and my heart dropped like a heavy bucket to my stomach.  The dance must go on. 

        Dancers pranced and giggled off stage and in seconds the three future Rockettes lined up proudly with hats squared.  Marching like well trained horses, one smelling of manure, we appeared on stage smiling ear to ear.  We strutted magnificently that night on stage at the Coleman Theater with tassels glistening making our parents proud.

        And yes, one little girl was made stronger that night by stepping onto center stage and kicking those tasseled boots high into the flood lights.

On stage about 1960. left to right young girls: ?, Lynette Rains Kemp, ? Nancy Owens, ? Letty Stapp Watt, Dottie Miller, Nancy Adams, Beverly Gaines. 

Letty Stapp Watt

I would love to hear your  memories or stories of the Coleman Theater or  in The Wilson Dance Recitals of the 1950's--1960's.  Please use the comment section below. 

*The original Coleman Theater was built by George Coleman and opened in April 1929. In my childhood the glory remained but had begun to fade. Now thanks to the Friends of the Coleman Theater it has been completely restored, and is the most magnificent theater that your mind can imagine.  Come travel Route 66 to Miami, Oklahoma and visit this stunning showcase. 

This photo of the replaced original carpet and shows the insignia of 
George L. Coleman Sr
Click on the link below for more information on the Coleman Theater
The Coleman Theatre

Route 66 -- Times Gone By

Original backdrop to the stage productions from 1929.

Lobby of theatre with Mr. Dillon

An afternoon tour of the historic Coleman theatre, on Route 66 in Miami, Oklahoma, opened my eyes and filled my head with layers upon layers of stories about the wealth that came out of the lead and zinc mines in Ottawa County from 1910--1950's.  Learning that George L. Coleman believed that he could draw the world to Miami, Oklahoma if he built a stage to match the elegance of the European theatres. Which he did in 1928-1929. The magnificent Spanish Revival era Coleman Theatre was built to match the style of Louis XV, complete with gold leaf trim, hand woven carpet with the Coleman insignia of a pick and shovel, velvet curtains from Belgium, and a crystal chandelier from Czechoslovakia. I found myself and friends spellbound with every story shared that day by Danny Dillon. 

Ceiling and staging

However, George L. Coleman also built a golf course, as a place for his son George to practice, and for Hollywood stars to play on when they visited the Coleman mansion on Rockdale Blvd. In the early 1920's Rockdale Country Club was built. During my childhood in the 1950's I met Ben Hogan, Patty Berg, Mickey Wright, Mickey Mantle and other great golfers and performers. These celebrities, I began to realize, all visited my home golf course thanks to the connections of the Coleman family and my father, Johnie Stapp. 

Dave Marsh, Mickey Mantle, Patty Berg, Johnie Stapp 1956

Pondering those pieces of times gone by an epiphany occurred. I discovered my next writing challenge. It became apparent that this colorful history of a golf course built by a visionary man in the 1920's needed to be recorded--through research and through the eyes of child who witnessed part of this history.  Slowly, I began to dig and sort, through the NewsArchives, notes I'd taken, and stories collected. Then one night, my puzzle pieces began to fall into place, when much like George L. Coleman I found a jewel of a story.

Ky Laffon, a champion golfer, who learned to play golf in Miami at the tutelage of Ed Dudley, spent decades crisscrossing the country playing professional golf, returning to Miami from time to time. My father willingly told stories of Ky, and I'm sure I retold some tall tales in the classroom after his visits. 

It is recorded that Ky's uncontrollable temperament more than likely kept him from winning more first place trophies in professional tournaments, but it did secure his place in history through his legendary act of "club-icide."  After watching his putt lip out on the 18th hole, and numerous other putts that didn't fall that day, shaking with anger he walked off the golf course carrying his putter.  Reaching the trunk of his car he pulled out a gun and proceeded to shoot his putter three times, yelling in a colorful slang the entire time.

Ironically, the same weekend I visited the Coleman Theatre I also laid a personal story to rest. Thanks to John Finley, Rob Kimbrough, and others at the First National Bank of Miami, we were able to lay my father's "Pro Emeritus" stone to rest outside the Dobson Museum in Miami, Oklahoma. It originally had been placed by the putting green at the old Miami Golf and Country Club, after my father died in 1989.  The putting green where many a man won and lost bets during an evening a friendly putting contests, where hundreds of people took lessons from the pro, and where famous stars once walked.

Where one story may end, another begins.  

Letty Stapp Watt
Johnie Stapp's daughter and historian

Golf Gypsy In a Pickle

It's one thing to stretch and rub a leg cramping while walking or playing golf, but it is a moment of agony to wake up in the middle of the night with three toes cramped tight, turned under and sideways while the left calf is pulsating knots of pain up and down the leg.  Screaming, grabbing, and yanking myself out of bed to stand and push the pain away, as tears of surprise and near anger flowed down my cheeks, is one way to handle the moment. Actually, I didn't stop to think of a better way. 

Options in the past for recovering from summer's heat, and the perspiration my body exudes when exercising have been to drink "Smart Styx" replenishment supplements, 60-100 oz of water daily, eat a banana, or drink a nice cool beer in a frosted mug with salt on the rim, and continue to take daily doses of calcium, potassium, and magnesium pills. 

I mentioned my agonizing leg cramps to my physical therapist, Natoshia, Therapy in Motion. Immediately, like a chorus to a song Natoshia and another therapist chimed in "You need to drink pickle juice!"  They looked at each other and laughed.  She continued, "You need to drink pickle juice or eat a dill pickle everyday, and eat a banana before you play golf or go for long walks." 

"I've never heard of pickle juice as a cure," I retorted and then laughed, "Unless it was to drink with Crown Royal shots after you've lost a golf match." 

Naturally, that line was a stopper. They listened as I recalled the time Manon and I were beat early in a "Horse Race" at a golf tournament at Smoky Hills Golf Course in Hays, Ks.  As spectators, the cart girl came by offering us drinks.  Our friends who'd also lost suggested we try Crown Royal shots and dill pickle juice.   I can assure you that I did not suffer leg cramps that weekend, nor did I suffer a hangover, but we sure laughed a lot. 

But I digress.  

Being a dutiful student, I bought a 6-pack of Pickle Juice at Academy Sports, and bananas at Braum's, plus Ice Cream bars just because. I ate the banana before I drove in the driveway. That afternoon while relaxing on the patio, I discovered that I enjoyed the flavor of the nutritional bottle of pickle juice, loaded with sodium, vitamins, calcium, zinc, iron, and potassium.  For those, like me, who can eat a healthy dose of salt consider sprinkling salt on bananas, grapefruit, and cucumbers instead of sugar. 

Most recently, I rediscovered the old fashioned giant dill pickle that spurts juice everywhere when I take a bite. For a brief moment, I'm back at the Coleman Theatre on a Saturday afternoon with friends where I could buy a large dill pickle out of the jar for only a dime. Coleman Theatre


Did the pickle juice and banana help? Yes.  So far no leg cramps in the last three weeks.

I'm not recommending this pickle juice/banana regime for everyone, because I have low blood pressure, perspire measurably, and can handle salt.  I've always been a salt lover, while my husband can thrive on chocolate. If I eat ice cream I often follow up with a saltine cracker and smile. 

In reflection, perhaps it is the salt of the earth that helps us to endure.