Greatness in Pajamas
When I was a young man and just starting to kick around at Golf Digest, I was often introduced as an “Evans caddie scholar.” Wrong on three counts, I’d protest. I had once met Chick Evans, but I was not one of his foundation’s award winners. I had never caddied in my life, if you don’t count the time I drove a getaway cart in a big-money match at the muny of my misspent youth. And by no means or description was I ever a scholar. While a journalism student at Northwestern in the 1970s, my curiosity led me to looking up Chick Evans in the Chicago phone book, calling him and visiting his Lincoln Park apartment on a fall afternoon. He was in his late 80s by then and greeted…
