Page 65 - Golf World (February 2020)

Archie Baird
N
Niblicks, cleeks and featheries weren’t on
Archie Baird’s mind as he courted Sheila
Park while at Edinburgh University in the
early 1950s. He was falling in love and
showing just about enough interest in his
academic work to qualify as a veterinary
surgeon, becoming the fourth generation
of Baird to do so.
FinalexamsoverforbothheandSheila,
who had read medicine, they resolved to
get married and began setting up home in
Scotland’scapitalcity.Aflatwasinherited,
but it required furnishing. With money
tight as the young professionals started
‘Willie Park sNr’s clubs Were
beautiful
i Picked them uP
out, they scoured the secondhand shops
for pieces of furniture others had tired of. the idea for the museum came to mind.
One such excursion to the auction lane
sales changed Archie’s life forever.
Noticing a canvas bag stuffed full of old-
fashioned golf clubs, he wiped away the
dust to reveal the words ‘W. Park,
Musselburgh’. Willie Park Snr was the
first winner of the Open Championship
and as well as being the finest player of his
generation, he designed courses and
crafted clubs. He also happened to be the
great grandfather of Archie’s new wife.
“I thought, ‘I must have these clubs’,”
remembers Archie. “They were beautiful;
craftsman’s creations. They were over 100
years old, long-nosed clubs – but nobody
wanted them, so I got the whole bag for
only five shillings.”
That sliding doors moment began for
Archie a consuming passion for golf and,
in particular, its history. This love
manifested itself in a private museum,
‘The Heritage of Golf’, which opened in
1980 and was located beside the pro shop
at Gullane, the small town in East
Lothiansosteepedinthegame.“Irealised
it would be a fascinating hobby to collect
old golf clubs,” he told Golf World in this
2011 interview. “It was rewarding, too,
because every junk shop in Edinburgh
had them and nobody wanted them. So I
went round looking for Willie Park clubs.
But the blighters eventually realised what
I was doing and put all their prices up.
Soon, they were often over 10 shillings. I
continued, though, and began to realise
there were a lot of clubmakers I had never
heard of. So I also bought all the golf
books I could find to help me.
“I haunted the auctions and used to bid
other people off the park. I backed up
purchases with a good deal of knowledge,
though. I wasn’t just buying any old
rubbish. I’ve no idea what it has cost me to hickories to all manner of artworks and
assemble but it has provided me with a
modest business and I love doing it and
showing people it. I have no pension, but
I have a collection.”
Decades of collecting while running his
city centre veterinary practice had resulted was looking you could have a hit.” Next
in a vast array of memorabilia. So when
Baird retired he moved to East Lothian to
enjoy the game he had become absorbed
with. He joined Gullane and later became
craftsmaN’s creatioNs,
for five shilliNgs’
the club’s captain, and it was there that
The club granted him use of a small annex
on the side of the pro shop, which has
become an Aladdin’s cave of golf artefacts.
His collection has charmed visitors and
historians from all over the world.
In the early days, the room was more
primitive. It had a mud floor and there
were bare rafters from which he hung his
clubs. Today it is a little more polished,
but still compact and neatly organised.
An historic howitzer
Squat, thick-set and charismatic, Archie
Baird was also bold, engaging and
brusque. The perfect historian host in
what so many claim is the ‘Home of
Golf’. “The Dutch played a game like golf
way before we did. I have evidence going
back to 1300,” he states, in a tone which
seeks to end an argument before one can
begin. “There is no mention of golf in
Scotland before 1450. But, the Dutch
neither developed the game nor did they
keep it going. It died out totally by 1700
because they couldn’t make good clubs;
the shaft was hazel, which was far too
whippy, and they had no hardwood, so
the heads were made of lead. This is a
head made in about 1680 with some hazel
still inside it,” he says, thrusting a black
object in my hand. “It was found in
Amsterdam harbour. That was a Big
Bertha of the day. But they didn’t need to
hit the ball a long way. They always played
on the ice and to a stake. Luckily, the
Scottish wool merchants went across and
picked the game up. This is the painting
of Haarlem cathedral which proves it,” he
adds, motioning to a beautiful print.
What follows over the next hour or so
is a chronological tour through the annals
of golfing history, from featheries and
artefacts. Suddenly, he pulls out a secret
Sunday club. “Presbyterians did not like
golf on a Sunday, he explains. “So you
could have one of these small clubs which
look like a walking stick and when no-one
comes what looks like a liquorice-covered
walking stick. “This is the rarest club in
here,” he announces. “I know all the great
collections and nobody has one of these.
It is a club encased in gutta-percha which
means it can withstand any weather.”
Shortly afterwards, however, and without
warning, the tour comes to an end –
somewhere around the late 1920s.
“Aluminium entered the fray,” he says.
“Here is an aluminium-headed club from
America from about 1930. Then there
were steel-headed clubs, though they had
problems with swing weights. And then
titanium and graphite came along and I
lose interest... Ask me any questions – I’d
be delighted to try to answer them. And if
you wanted to argue with me, I would be
pleased also.”
It is an abrupt end to a fascinating tour,
one that leaves an awkwardness in the air
and an elephant in the room. Why did the
1920s lead Archie to lose interest?
“Well, it all became mass production
and you get clowns like Tiger Woods
who are disagreeable human beings,” he
growls. “I like the nice guys, though, such
as (Bobby) Jones. The game became so
commercial. But I still love playing
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