HIGH POINT CONFIDENTIAL: High Point golf pro claimed national spotlight, then lost it

Jun. 20—HIGH POINT — Golf giveth, and golf taketh away.

If you don't believe it, consider the fate that befell poor Herbert Obendorf nearly a century ago, when his so-called "15 minutes of fame" turned out to be more like 15 seconds.

Obendorf was the first golf pro at the High Point Country Club at Emerywood, coming here in 1923 with solid credentials. "Obie," as his pals called him, had been the interscholastic golf champion of New York state for four straight years, and had coached the golf teams at Columbia University and the University of Pennsylvania. He held course records at golf clubs from New York to North Dakota.

Also, during the summer of 1917, Obendorf and golf prodigy Bobby Jones — a future Hall of Famer — played a series of golf exhibitions throughout the East, raising money for the U.S. war effort. Obie won a number of those head-to-head matches.

So anyway, when Obendorf arrived in High Point in 1923, the country was in the midst of a marathon craze. First it was dance marathons and then golf marathons, and the latter of the two was too tempting for the 23-year-old golfer to resist. He told his new hometown he intended to set a new golf marathon record.

The previous record had been set on June 21, 1923, by Texas golfer N.J. "Nick" Morris, who played 238 holes in a single day. The feat had made national headlines, and Obie resolved to steal that spotlight for himself.

So early on the morning of July 6 — and by "early," we mean 4:11 a.m. — Obendorf teed off from hole No. 1 at the new country club. For the next 13 hours and four minutes, the young pro played nonstop golf, walking — and occasionally running — more than 45 miles as he played the pristine course time and time again under a broiling sun that eventually reached 97 degrees.

Five caddies took turns carrying Obie's bag. Obie changed his damp, sweaty socks several times throughout the day, but wore the same pair of shoes all day, and his feet never blistered. He snacked on a dozen oranges, a few peaches and a supply of raisins, but reportedly drank very little water.

The day was grueling, but when Obendorf sank his final putt of the day, for a birdie, he had played 243 holes — a new world record! He even averaged 6 over par for his many rounds, not too shabby for someone playing marathon golf.

Obendorf was exhausted, but also exhilarated. The next day's Enterprise hailed his record as a crowning achievement, "a mark that should stand for many a day."

Um, not exactly.

You see, what the Enterprise reporter didn't know was that while Obendorf was playing his heart out at the High Point Country Club, a 31-year-old golfer named Rudolph Suppan was doing the same thing on a course nearly 400 miles away, in Cleveland, Ohio. Suppan finished the day with 257 holes, 14 more than Obendorf. Like Obendorf, he had started playing around 4 a.m., but he played until dusk — a few hours longer than Obie — and that made the difference.

The national wire services picked up on the irony quickly.

"Obendorf's elation over his feat was short-lived," one wire story reported, "for he soon learned that his lengthy performance was not a new record at all, Rudolph Suppan reaping that glory at Cleveland."

Just like that, Obie's spotlight had been yanked away from him.

There was one bright spot for the High Point pro, however. Remember how Obie played all day wearing the same pair of shoes? Well, those shoes landed him an endorsement gig with Sportocasin, the company that manufactured the shoes. Print ads across the country told of Obendorf's impressive feat — and his intact feet — crediting his Sportocasins.

"My shoes did it, and my feet are the only part of me that do not ache," the ads quoted Obendorf as saying.

And what became of Rudolph Suppan's marathon record? It didn't last, either. The original marathon golfer, Nick Morris, returned to the course and played 290 holes in an astounding 19 hours and 10 minutes.

Obie never achieved the golf fame of his former exhibition buddy, Bobby Jones, and after a few years he even quit playing for over a decade. It was another ironic example of how golf giveth, and golf taketh away.

Of course, considering Obie's brief moment in the national spotlight that summer of 1923, for him it was probably just par for the course.

jtomlin@hpenews.com — 336-888-3579