“Good grief”and “Rats”are about the strongest expletives ever used by Charles M. Schulz, whether in his famous comic strip “Peanuts”, in his studio, or on the golf course. Let no one suppose, however, that these mild expressions reflected a bland, uncompetitive nature, whether one looks to Charley Brown or Charles Schulz. Obviously, there is much of Charley Brown in Charles M. Schulz (and vice versa), but the two are by no means mirror images. The two characters diverge, for while Charley Brown never wins anything, Charles Schulz was not only a huge artistic, commercial, and philanthropic success but also a decent athlete and a very good golfer who had his share of modest but significant triumphs.
Perhaps because of the Minnesota culture he grew up in, or perhaps also because of his inherent nature, Charles Schulz did not easily or directly reveal his deeper feelings and emotions. Some of these were given sublimated expression in the characters he created for Peanuts, but it is too easy—and misleading—to think of Charley Brown simply as Charles Schulz’s alter ego.
It has long been a truism that golf is a prism through which character and temperament reveal themselves. And parts of one’s history too, if the record is full enough. One cannot claim to see the whole person through that prism, but we are fortunate that Charles Schulz spoke often, over several decades, about his life, his work, his values, and his interest in all sports, including golf.
These fragments tell us much and imply yet more about his life and the way golf was embedded in that life: about how rapidly he improved and how much the game absorbed him; about how, as a teen-ager, golf—like cartooning—gave him relief and escape from uncomfortable social and school life; about how golf helped fill a void after his return from Army service at the end of World War II, when, like millions of other veterans, he was at loose ends; about giving up the game for a time; about heroes and what they meant to him.
In piecing together these golf-related fragments, a mosaic emerges, one that depicts in his own words this straightforward yet complex man who contributed so much to the way we see our world and ourselves. —LVS
On getting started with golf: “I had seen a Bobby Jones movie short when I was 9. I was fascinated by that. But my dad (a barber) didn’t play golf. He loved fishing. I never really cared much for it; didn’t like sitting out on the lake in the cold. I guess I was kind of a disappointment to him. When I was fifteen, I finally got to play golf. A friend and I went to a public course and I shot 156 with a miserable set of three or four clubs. I never got the ball off the ground. But I thought, the next time I’d do better. Two days later I shot 165...Well, I became totally immersed in the game. The next spring I started playing again, and within a month or so, I had a 79. I improved very fast. And I played for the Central High School team when I was 17.”(2)
On good kids, bad kids and the solace of golf: “We used to play cops and robbers, and cowboys and Indians, and run around the neighborhood and go to the movies and all of that. But there were also unpleasant episodes. There were always some nasty kids around that would spoil things. If everybody left us alone, we had fun. Later on, when I became a teenager, my whole life was just reading comic
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