Swan Song, Conclusion, Windup, Finis, Coda, Farewell …… Famous Last Words

 

 

 

“Many valiant men, how many fair ladies, breakfast with their kinfolk and the same night supped with their ancestors in the next world!”....    The Decameron, Giovanni Boccaccio.  

 

 

“Don’t worry, it’s not going to rain today.” The reflexive response is “famous last words”.

 

Once upon a time, “famous last words” was literally the notable final comments of someone before they breathed their last. The first use of the idiom was applied to Union General John Sedgewick (age 50) who proclaimed at the Battle of Spotsylvania in May 1864 that, “They couldn’t hit an elephant at this distance” just before he was shot by a Confederate sniper below his left eye and was rendered kaput.

 

Current colloquial usage, the one we often use, evolved during the 20th century, appearing in literature and popular culture as a sarcastic response to overconfidence or bravado which will be proven wrong or contradicted by subsequent events.  Some examples: “Hey guys, watch this.” “I’ve never had a flat tire.” “That marriage will last forever.”  “It looks sturdy enough for me.” “It will be easy from here on in.” “I'll never forget your birthday; I have it marked on my calendar!” “We have plenty of time to get to the airport.”  “You can't wake them up while they're hibernating”, and, yes, “Don’t worry. It won’t rain today”

 

Today, we’re going to take note of some closing perorations of the well-known as well as the obscure before they bit the dust. As we know, famous last words* was originally a factual reference to the well-known last words of some famous person especially those whose final utterances took on an ironic or poignant significance. The phrase evolved to famous last words of the not famous as their departing remarks would become famous. It is important to note that there had to be someone present to hear and record the parting words of the soon to be demised or at least to read their final diary entry.  You will notice as you peruse this composition that oft times the closing words were to a wife, lover, nurse, doctor, or servant.  Also notice the frequency that gunfire was involved.

 

During our study of notable final statements we expected something witty from some notably witty people such as Ben Franklin (1706–1790) - “A dying man can do nothing easy.” or the French philosopher, Voltaire (1694–1778) who affirmed to a priest who asked him to renounce Satan, “This is no time to be making new enemies”. However, as we shall see, the heretofore unknown also contributed to the lexicon of famed departing windups.  As expected, many of the well-known last words came from those in the world of the arts. 

 

In music, we have the adieus of composers and vocalists and one drummer. Gustav Mahler, (1860–1911) Austrian composer and conductor, noted for his 10 symphonies died in bed, conducting an imaginary orchestra. His last word was “Mozart!”  And speaking of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791), the legendary and prolific composer of operas, symphonies and concertos, including Symphony No. 40 in G Minor , Piano Concerto No. 21 (Elvira Madigan), and operas, The Marriage of Figaro and Don Giovanni, died saying to his sister, Constanze, "The taste of death is upon my lips. I feel something that is not of this earth." We cannot mention Mozart without mentioning German composter/pianist, Ludwig Von Beethoven (1770–1827). His most famous composition was Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67. Trust us, you know the first four notes. Beethoven departed requesting “friends applaud; the comedy is finished”.   Percy Grainger (1882-1961) was an Australian composer who, with his dying words, narrowed down his feelings towards people in general and said to his wife Ella, “You’re the only one I like.” Baroque era French composer Jean-Philippe Rameau, recognized for his harpsicord music, (1683–1764) had a rather negative reaction to a song being sung at his bedside. He said, “What the devil do you mean to sing to me, priest? You are out of tune.” 

 

American blues singer Bessie Smith (1894–1937) was known as the 'Empress of the Blues’. Her most well-known song was Down Hearted Blues and she died saying, “I’m going, but I’m going in the name of the Lord.” Frank Sinatra (1915–1998), known as ‘The Chairman of the Board’ or Ol’ Blue Eyes’ with numerous hit recordings such as My Way, Strangers in the Night, and Fly Me to the Moon, as well as many movies, died after saying, “I’m losing” according to wife, Barbara.  Our next two contributors, like General Sedgewick, and others did not know that their famous last words would be their famous last words. Once again, guns were involved. American R&B singer, Johnny Ace, (1929–1954) had a #1 hit with Pledging My Love. Note, he is always referred to by the media and disc jockeys as “the late great Johnny Ace” as if that was his full name. He died in 1954 while playing with a pistol during a break in his concert set. His last words were, “I’ll show you that it won’t shoot.” Not sure if the audience got a refund for the abbreviated show. Terry Kath, (1946–1978) was lead singer of the group Chicago on hits such as Color My World and Make Me Smile. Mr. Kath obviously was not familiar with the demise of the late great Mr. Ace as he intoned “What do you think I am going to do blow my brains out?” Kath was holding what he thought was an unloaded gun. Unfortunately, the gun was loaded, and Kath did blow his brains out. 

Drum virtuoso, Buddy Rich (69) legendary for his work with “Big Bands”, went defunct in 1987. As he was being prepped for a surgery from which he would not return, a nurse asked him, “Is there anything you can’t take?” Rich replied, “Yeah, country music.” Blues/Folk guitarist Huddie William Ledbetter, a.k.a. Lead Belly, (1888–1949) was the first to record the standard, Goodnight Irene in 1933. He correctly predicted, “Doctor, if I put this here guitar down now, I ain’t never gonna wake up.” 

On the last night of American/French resident, singer/dancer, civil rights activist and WWII spy, Josephine Baker’s (1906–1975) life, she left a party being held in her honor, saying, “Oh, you young people act like old men. You are no fun.”  The great guitarist, Bo Diddley (1928–2008) died giving a thumbs-up as he listened to the song Walk Around Heaven. His last word was “Wow.”  James Brown (1933–2006) The “Godfather of Soul” who sang, Please Please Please, Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag and I Got You, informed those around him, “I’m going away tonight.” Kurt Cobain, lead singer of Nirvana, (gunshot again) left a suicide note ending with “It's better to burn out than to fade away. Peace, Love, Empathy”. Cobain was quoting Neil Young’s Hey Hey My My…..Into the Black. And of course there’s Elvis (1935–1977). according to his “fiancé”, Ginger Alden his final words during a sleepless night were “I’m going to the bathroom to read.”  

 

Apologies to Irving Berlin (he died in his sleep at the age of 100), the world of show business has several notable contributors to our study because, as Berlin wrote “There’s No Business Like Show Business”.  Right up until the end comedian/movie star/television star, Bob Hope (1903–2003) had a quip. His wife asked him where he wanted to be buried.  He said, “Surprise me.” W.C Fields, comedian/vaudeville/movie star/drinker, (1880–1946) was famous for his crankiness and cutting humor and so like some of the other famous in this essay, he gets credit for several different famous last words. The most reliable seems to be “God damn the whole friggin’ world and everyone in it but you, Carlotta.” He was speaking to Carlotta Monti, his longtime mistress. Actor, Michael Landon, (1936–1991) “Little Joe” on Bonanza and star of Little House on the Prairie, and Highway to Heaven had his family gathered at his bedside and his son said it was time to move on. Landon said, “You’re right. It’s time. I love you all.” Movie star, John Wayne (1907–1979), The Searchers, True Grit, Rio Bravo, died in Los Angeles. The Duke turned to his wife, Pilar, and said, “Of course I know who you are. You’re my girl. I love you.” Actor, Humphrey Bogart (1899–1957), High Sierra, Casablanca, the Maltese Falcon, was a heavy smoker and suffering from cancer told his wife, Lauren Bacall as she was leaving the house to pick up their children at school, “Goodbye, kid. Hurry back.”  

Singer, dancer, actor, comedian Donald O’Connor (1925–2003), Singin in the Rain, and Francis, the Talking Mule, hosted the Academy Awards in 1954. When it was time to go to that big stage in the sky in 2003, he jokingly told his family “I’d like to thank the Academy for my lifetime achievement award that I will eventually get.” He still hasn’t gotten one. Jack Soo (1917–1979) was a cast member in the comedy police television series Barney Miller. There was a running joke on the show about Soo’s character making terrible coffee at the station house. As Soo was being wheeled into an operating room, cancer of the esophagus, he joked, “It must have been the coffee.”  Most of us have never heard of Charles Gussman (1913-2000). He was a writer and TV announcer who wrote the pilot episode of the soap opera, Days of Our Lives, among other shows.  He knew he was ill, and he wanted his last words to be memorable. When his daughter reminded him of this, he removed his oxygen mask and whispered: “And now for a final word from our sponsor—.”

 

And we turn to the comedy of the Marx Brothers, The Coconuts, Animal Crackers, Duck Soup  ……Groucho (Julius) Marx (1890–1977) was dying of pneumonia, and he let out one last parting wisecrack, “This is no way to live!”.   Chico (Leonard) Marx (1887–1961). He’s the one with the Italian accent, gave instructions to his wife as his last words: “Remember, Honey, don’t forget what I told you. Put in my coffin a deck of cards, a mashie niblick, and a pretty blonde.” A “mashie niblick” is a type of golf club, the equivalent of a seven iron. As for the silent Marx brother who never spoke, Harpo (Arthur) - 1887–1961, died after surgery, silently. And, yet another Marx brother, the German, Karl, (1818–1883) author of the Communist Manifesto was a barrel of laughs to the end as he said, “Go on, get out! Last words are for fools who haven't said enough”.

“Master of Suspense”, Alfred Hitchcock (1899–1980), Pyscho, North by Northwest, Rear Window, remarked as he was dying “One never knows the ending. One has to die to know exactly what happens after death, although Catholics have their hopes.” Famed reporter, Edward R. Murrow (1908–1965), who always had a cigarette in his hand when reporting the news or interviewing news makers, died while patting his wife’s hand. He said, “Well, Jan, we were lucky at that.” Movie star, Joan Crawford (1924–1972), Mildred Pierce, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, Trog, was nasty in life and nasty to the end as she berated a nurse praying for her, “Damn it! Don't you dare ask God to help me!".  Next, we have a case of optimism vs. pessimism with the latter being correct. Stan Laurel of Laurel and Hardy movie, The Music Box, Babes in Toyland, A Chump at Oxford, Sons of the Desert, fame (1890-1965) was told by his nurse that he would be fine in the morning. “I’ll be in Hell before you start breakfast!” correctly joked the comedian.  And a final show biz last words, actually two, “Codeine… bourbon…” said actress Tallulah Bankhead (1902-1968). Bankhead, Lifeboat, A Royal Scandal, was known for her flamboyant personality, lifestyle and sharp wit and drinking.

 

Naturally many authors couldn’t go without leaving something memorable. It might even be a requirement of the job.  Russian/American author Vladimir Nabokov (1899–1977), Pale Fire,  was also an entomologist whose particular interest was butterflies. His last words: “A certain butterfly is already on the wing.” One might think his final declaration should have been Lolita. Moby-Dick author Herman Melville (1819–1891) died saying, “God bless Captain Vere!” He was referring to his then-unpublished novel Billy Budd which was found in a breadbox after his death.  Joseph Wright (1734–1797) was a noted linguist who edited the English Dialect Dictionary. His last word? Fittingly, it was “Dictionary”.  George Orwell’s (1903–1950) last written words were, “At 50, everyone has the face he deserves.” The 1984 author—whose real name was Eric Arthur Blair—died at age 46 from complications of Tuberculosis. French philosopher/author, Jean-Paul Sartre -(1905–1980) said to his philosopher/author partner Simone de Beauvoir “I love you very much, my dear Beaver”. His pet name for her was based partly on her surname and partly on her notably busy work ethic. Among Sartre’s many books was Being and Nothingness and so he went from……to……..

Austrian Hungarian (now the Czech Republic) poet, Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926), known for his põem, Duino Elegies, said, “I don’t want the doctor’s death. I want to have my own freedom.” Irish poet T.S. Eliot (1888–1965), The Waste Land, which included the line, “April is the cruelest month” was only able to whisper one word as he died: “Valerie,” the name of his wife. He died in January, not April.  American, Wilson Mizner (1876–1933) was best known for his witty quips—including the lines, “Be nice to people on the way up because you’ll meet the same people on the way down” and “If you steal from one author, it's plagiarism. If you steal from many, it's research.”. He was also a successful playwright. On his deathbed, a priest said to him, “I’m sure you want to talk to me.” Mizner replied, “Why should I talk to you? I’ve just been talking to your boss.”  O.O. (Oscar Odd) McIntyre (1884–1938) was an American reporter. His daily column about the city, “New York Day by Day,” reportedly ran in more than 500 newspapers throughout the United States. He died at age 53, and spoke his last words to his wife Maybelle: “Snooks, will you please turn this way. I like to look at your face.”  English poet, Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–1861) famous for her Songs of the Portuguese, renowned for “How do I love thee. Let me count the ways”, said to her husband, Robert, “Beautiful.” Somehow, we didn’t think she’d call Robert, “Snooks”. British novelist, Jane Austen, (1775–1817, celebrated for her novels, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Emma, among others, died at 4:30 in the morning of July 18, 1817, with her sister, Cassandra at her bedside.  She said, “I want nothing but death.” according to a letter from Cassandra Austen to her niece Fannie Wright.

 

Then we have “My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go.” This was attributed  to Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) celebrated wit and author of The Importance of Being Earnest and Picture of Dorian Gray amongst others.  The “wallpaper” quotes have been Internetingly multiplied, divided, added, and subtracted ad infinitum. However, according to the book Oscar Wilde: The Unrepentant Years, he said this to a visiting friend a few weeks before went kaput in Paris. The correct quote is probably “I am dying beyond my means. I can't even afford to die.” as he lay, penniless, expiring in a dilapidated Paris hotel.  Before Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises, A Farewell to Arms,  (1899–1961) committed suicide, he told his wife Mary, “Goodnight, my kitten.” The ensuing shotgun blast probably ensured that she would not have a good night.  The Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Eugene O’Neill (1888–1953), author of Long Day’s Journey into the Night, and many others, was born in a room at the Broadway Hotel on Long Acre Square, now Times Square in New York City. He died at age 65 in the Sheraton Hotel in Boston and his last words were, “I knew it! I knew it! Born in a hotel room and, goddamn it, dying in a hotel room.”. Another hotel, another passing as Welsh poet, and noted heavy drinker, Dylan Thomas (1914-1953), author of Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night' and 'And Death Shall have No Dominion' proudly proclaimed “I’ve had eighteen straight whiskies… I think that’s the record” at the Chelsea Hotel in New York. The quote is probably true but possibly embellished. He then slipped into a coma from which he never recovered.   

 

Dominique Bouhors (1628–1702) was a 17^th century French Grammarian. He was a Grammarian to the end, devoted to the art of proper syntax as he said, “I am about to or I am going to either expression is correct”. Truman Capote (1924–1984), author of In Cold Blood and Breakfast at Tiffany’s was also known for his feuds, and scathing wit. He left this vale of tears saying, “Mama—Mama—Mama.” Artist, writer, and filmmaker, Derek Jarman’s (1942–1994) last words as he was dying of AIDS were “I want the world to be filled with white fluffy duckies.” Author of The Prince, politician/diplomat, Niccolo Machiavelli (1469–1527) offered a request before dying of a stomach ailment caused by medication he took for, yes, a stomach ailment.  “I desire to go to Hell and not Heaven. In the former place I shall enjoy the company of popes, kings, and princes, while in the latter are only beggars, monks, and apostles”. We’ve also seen Machiavelli’s final announcement as, “I am no longer afraid of poverty or frightened of death. I live entirely through them.” And then he didn’t.  Norwegian playwright,A Dolls House and Enemy of the People, Henrik Ibsen (1828–1906) was contrary to the end.  His wife remarked that his condition was improving. He said, “On the contrary.” Then he died.  “I feel nothing, apart from a certain difficulty in continuing to exist.” said French philosopher and writer, Bernard de Fontenelle (1657-1757). 

 

As for Irish playwright, George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950.), we don’t really know his last words, but as with many others in this essay, famous quotes from his life pop up as “last words”.  The most accurate seems to be "I knew if I stayed around long enough, something like this would happen." Among Shaw’s most memorable works are Pygmalion (you know the musical version as My Fair Lady), Major Barbara and Man and Superman.  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859–1930), the creator of Sherlock Holmes went kaput in his garden. He turned to his wife and said, “You are wonderful,” then clutched his chest and died. 

 

You might think that the most famous wordsmith of all, William Shakespeare (1564–1616) would have some famous last words since his plays are chock full of them. Sadly, there are none from him. His final written words are in his will, discovered in 1747.  They are “By me William Shakspeare”. He left his wife of 33 years, Anne Hathaway, “my second best bed with the furniture.”. We do not know the fate of his best bed.  Poet Emily Dickinson’s (1830–1886) final words were, “I must go in, for the fog is rising.” This echoed her poem, Because I Could not Stop for Death, published posthumously in 1890,  “Because I could not stop for Death – / He kindly stopped for me – / The Carriage held but just Ourselves – / And Immortality.” 

 

The world of science, technology and mathematics has given us quite a few parting bon mots. The great physicist, and author (Principia) Isaac Newton (1643–1727) died after saying “I don’t know what I may seem to the world. But as to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore and diverting myself now and then in finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than the ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.” Physicist, Albert Abraham ( 1852–1931), was more focused than Newton.  Michelson spent much of his career measuring the speed of light. He was the first American to win the Nobel Prize in Physics. As he was dying, he was still engrossed in measuring light. He wrote in his log: “The following is a report on the measurement of the velocity of light made at the Irvine Ranch, near Santa Ana, California, during the period of September 1929 to—.” And that was it. He went dark. Richard Feynman (1918–1988) physicist, Nobel Prize winner, author, (Surely, You’re Joking Mr. Feynman) musician, professor, and traveler died in Los Angeles in 1988. His last words? “This dying is boring.” Remember that quote when we get to Winston Churchill a bit later in this essay. 

 

English surgeon Joseph Henry Green (1791–1863) was checking his own pulse as he lay dying. His last word: “Stopped.” Happy to the end, birth control advocate and Eugenicist, Margaret Sanger’s (1879–1966), parting shot was “A party! Let’s have a party.”  According to his sister Mona, Apple co-founder Steve Jobs (1955–2011), the computer virtuoso and entrepreneur’s last words were, “Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.” Thomas Fantet de Lagny (1660–1734) was a French mathematician. On his deathbed, he was asked, “What is the square of 12?” His last words: “One hundred and forty-four.” British economist and philosopher, John Maynard Keynes (1883-1946) regretfully noted “I should have drunk more champagne.”  He was referring to not enjoying more of life’s pleasures, a fitting end for a man famous for Keynesian Economics. “Don’t disturb my circles!” Greek mathematician and inventor Archimedes (c. 287-212 BC) reprimanded a Roman soldier who interrupted his mathematical studies in the sand on the island of Sicily.  The soldier killed him, thus disturbing his circles.  After 1093 patents, the light was going out for inventor, Thomas Edison, (1847-1931) as he said, “It's very beautiful over there”.  Leonardo Da Vinci (1452–1519) could be included in our scientists or our artists. At age 67 (we thought he was older…..he certainly looked older), he humbly noted “I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have.” Well, the Mona Lisa was pretty good though. 

 

We’ve segued to artists thanks to Leonardo.  Italian Renaissance artist Raphael’s (1483–1520), most famous work is “The School of Athens”, located inside the Stanza della Segnatura on the second floor of the Vatican Palace. He succumbed to, well, we’re not sure. There are some theories with the most popular being that his secrecy regarding his late-night outings…..seeking sex,…he was a bit of a horn dog, may have led doctors to misdiagnose his ailment and prescribe the wrong treatment that ultimately accelerated his death. Raphael’s (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino) last word was simply “happy.” Eccentric, surrealist artist, Salvador Dali (1904–1989) claimed he did not believe in mortality. Wrong.  He said “I do not believe in my death” just before his heart attack. Frida Kahlo (1907–1954) was a gifted artist and a walking United Nations, she had a German Hungarian-Jewish father and a mother of Spanish and Mexican Indian descent. She was famous for her eyebrows and the work, “The Two Fridas”.  She wrote in her diary "I hope the exit is joyful and hope never to come back.”

 

Turning our attention to the world of crime we find that some criminals faced the death penalty with a bit of humor. “How’s this for your headline, French Fries!” said James Donald French. (1936–1966).  French a convicted murderer made his prediction before facing his end at the electric chair. French kidnapped and killed a motorist who had given him a lift.  Following his arrest on that charge, he strangled a cellmate in jail. “Butterfingers” Thomas B. Moran (1896-1971) was an accomplished pickpocket. He reportedly stole as many as 50,000 wallets in his career but who’s counting. As he was dying, his last words were a complaint, “I’ve never forgiven that smart-alecky reporter who named me Butterfingers. To me, it’s not funny.”   Murderer James W. Rodgers (1910-1960) was put in front of a firing squad in Utah and asked if he had a last request. He replied, “Bring me a bullet-proof vest.” John Arthur Spenkelink (1949-1979) was executed in Florida in 1979 for the murder of a fellow criminal. He kept busy in his final days writing his last words on various pieces of mail: “Capital punishment means those without the capital get the punishment.” Convicted murderer, Thomas J. Grasso had a major menu issue with his last meal as he used his last words to complain “I did not get my Spaghetti-O’s; I got spaghetti. I want the press to know this.”. Charles “Lucky” “Charley Lucky” Luciano (1897-1962) was the most powerful “boss” of the American Mafia in the early 1930s and a major influence even from prison in 1936–45 and then after deportation to Italy in 1946. His last words were, “Tell Georgie I want to get in the movies one way or another.”  He was probably referring to actor, George Raft who was known for his friendships with gangsters. 

 

In the arena of sports, Hall of Fame football coach Vince Lombardi, (1913–1970)

whose Green Bay Packers won the first Super Bowl, was dying of cancer in 1970 and turned to his wife Marie and said, “Happy anniversary. I love you.”  Louisiana State University basketball great “Pistol” Pete Maravich (1947–1988) collapsed during a pickup game. His unfortunate last words: “I feel great.” Moe Berg (1902–1972) was a baseball player, a catcher who played for several teams, including the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Boston Red Sox. He was later a spy for the U.S Office of Strategic Services (OSS) reporting on the Nazi atomic bomb work during WW II. His final words to his wife were “how did the Mets do today?”…..They won. His ashes were scattered in Israel. NASCAR driver, Dale Earnhardt, (1951–2001), in what would be a final interview before his last race said, "Easy now, I'm not 50 yet. Just take it easy, guys. You know, I got a lot of years of racing left... When I go to start sitting on the porch a little more, then, you know, you talk about me being a senior citizen." His car crashed on the final lap, and he was killed instantly. Soccer legend, Argentinian, Diego Maradona (1960–2020), woke up one morning, was unable to finish his breakfast and said, “I don’t feel well”. 

 

We imagine that the famously disappeared mob connected labor leader, Jimmy Hoffa may have said “I’ll see you after lunch” as he was going to dine with some Mafiosi associates.  He never came back.

 

Historically, well-known famous last words, can be, as we’ve seen, poignant, funny, sad, weird, or mean—The last words can make quite the impact as folks shuffle off the stage of life and we were certain that historic figures had some historically famous final words, and they didn’t let us down. French astrologer and physician, Nostradamus’ (1503–1566) was the most widely read clairvoyant of the Renaissance. His final prediction was, “Tomorrow at sunrise, I shall no longer be here.”  Well, he got that one correct.  Harriet Tubman, (1822–1913)was an escaped slave, abolitionist, and the most well-known of all the Underground Railroad's "conductors”. As she  gathered her family around and they sang together; some have said her last words were “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” However, her actual last words were, “Give my love to the churches. Tell the women to stand firm. I go to prepare a place for you.” 

 

Monarchial parting words cover a range from resignation to being unaware that the end was near.  Anne Boleyn, the second wife of Henry VIII (there were six in all), gave a speech from the scaffold at the Tower of London prior to her beheading. “Thus, I take leave of the world, and of you, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. Oh Lord, have mercy on me! To God I commend my soul!” Always considerate, Henry had imported an expert executioner from France. One swipe with a very sharp sword and it was done.  The only daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, Queen Elizabeth I (1533–1603) of England reportedly said as she was exiting due to pneumonia in 1603, “All of my possessions for a moment of time!" Historians believe the statement to be apocryphal. As for her father, Henry VIII (1491–1547), he expired with the recorded last words, “I will first take a little sleep, and then, as I feel myself, I will advise upon the matter. “.  On the other hand, England’s King George V (1865–1936), was a bit incensed.  According to his physician the English monarch yelled “God Damn you!” at his nurse as gave him a sedative. Marie Antoinette (1755–1793), Queen of France, stepped on her executioner’s foot on her way to the guillotine at the Place de la Révolution, now the Place de la Concorde in, Paris. Her last words: “Pardonnez-moi, monsieur.” Her husband, the unfortunately dim Louis XVI, (1754–1793), addressed the crowd as he was prepared for the guillotine. “I die innocent. I pardon my enemies, and I hope that my blood will be useful to the French, that it will appease God’s anger...” Then, the drums……. hey, it was the execution of a king, of course they had a band………. began to roll loudly and Louis’ final words were inaudible.  Louis was killed on January 21, 1793. Wife Marie followed on October 16, 1793. Speaking of France, Louise-Marie-Thérèse de Saint Maurice, a confidant of Marie Antoinette happily noted, “Good. A woman who can fart is not dead.”, after letting loose with the same. Don’t put too much credence in that one as research into Madame de Saint Maurice yielded several Madame de Saint Maurices including one nun, all having had the flatulence quote attributed to them, but it was too good a quote to pass up.

 

 “Oh God, I’ve been murdered” announced British Prime Minister, Spencer Perceval (1762–1812 ) after being shot by a deranged man, John Bellingham in the House of Commons. American industrialist Richard B. Mellon, (1858–1933) a multimillionaire, was the president of Alcoa. He and his brother Andrew had a lifelong game of tag going. When Richard was on his deathbed, he called his brother over and whispered, “Last tag.” Brother Andrew remained “it” for four years, until he died apparently having no one to tag.  William Seward (1801–1872), Secretary of State during the Lincoln and Johnson administrations, most famous for organizing the purchase of Alaska, known then as “Seward’s Folly”, was asked if he had any final words. He replied, “Nothing, only ‘love one another.’  George Washington’s (1732 – 1797) final speech was considerably shorter than his Farewell Address at Fraunces Tavern in New York. It was simply, “Tis well”. Franklin D. Roosevelt, (1882–1945) President of the U.S complained “I have a terrific Headache” as he suffered a brain hemorrhage that would prove fatal. President John F. Kennedy (1917 – 1963) and his wife, Jacqueline were riding with Texas governor, John Connelly, and his wife in the Presidential limousine in Dallas on November 22, 1963. During the ride, the Mrs. Connelly told JFK, “You certainly can’t say that the people of Dallas haven’t given you a nice welcome, Mr. President”, to which JFK responded “No, you certainly can’t.” He was then assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald.

   

Edith Louisa Cavell (1865–1915), was a British nurse and patriot executed by a German firing squad in Brussels, Belgium during WWI. She was killed for assisting Allied soldiers in escaping from German-occupied territory. "Standing, as I do, in the view of God and eternity, I realize that patriotism is not enough.  I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone." 

Sometimes famous last words are added posthumously. “Don’t let it end like this. Tell them I said something.” Pancho Villa (1878–1923) didn’t say it.  Actually, he didn’t say anything but it’s a nice story.  The Mexican revolutionary leader was shot in the head while traveling home in his car from a visit to Parral, Chihuahua, Mexico and died instantly. Speaking of being shot, “I wonder why he shot me” queried Senator Huey Long (1893–1935) of Louisiana. The “Kingfish” speculated on this after being hit by a bullet fired in the Louisiana State capital building, by Dr. Carl Weiss.  Then we have, “F--k, a bullet wound!” (there’s that gunfire again), cursed Antonio Jose De Sucre (1795–1830) Venezuelan independence leader and President of Peru and Bolivia. De Sucre articulated this candid expression of dismay in the middle of his assassination in 1830. Mass murderer, and architect of the Bolshevik Revolution, Vladimir Lenin (1870–1924) said “Good dog” to a dog that brought him a dead bird. Doctors had removed a bullet from a wound he received during an attempted assassination in 1918.  Things didn’t go well as he experienced the joys of Communist socialized medicine.  Pioneer pilot, Amelia Earhart’s (1897-1937) final radio transmission was "Gas is running low.  We are on the line 157-337.  We will repeat this message.  We will repeat this on 6210 kilocycles.  Wait." She and navigator, Fred Noonan were aiming for Howland Island, a minuscule island in the Pacific only 13,200 feet long and 2,650 feet wide during their “round the world” flight. Amelia and Noonan lost radio contact with the Coast Guard cutter Itasca, which could not return their communication. We’ll never know what Earhart and Noonan said to each other before they disappeared into the mists of history.  French designer and style setter, Coco Chanel, (Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel 1883–1971), of Chanel #5 perfume fame, was expiring at the Ritz hotel and said to her maid, Celene, “You see, this is how you die." Speaking of fashion, Mata Hari, (Margaretha Zelle, 1876–1917) Dutch exotic dancer, courtesan, and convicted of being a spy for Germany during WWI, was in front of a firing squad in Vincennes, France and said, “I am ready.” When offered a blindfold, she disapproved and said, “must I wear that?” Was a clash of colors the issue?  Lawrence of Rome, (226-258) aka St. Lawrence was martyred in 258 during one of the periodic persecutions of Christians, this time under the Emperor Valarian. As he was being burned alive, Lawrence’ parting request was, “Turn me over—I’m done on this side”.  Perhaps Jack Daniels (1846–1911) of the eponymous Tennessee sour whiskey brand would like to have met Dylan Thomas (see above in the authors section). Mr. Daniels kicked a safe in frustration. His leg developed an ultimately fatal blood infection. As he was failing, he asked for  “One last drink please”. 

 

Caligula, (12-41 AD), infamously murderous looney Roman Emperor, shouted “Vivo” (I live) as he was being chopped up by the Praetorian Guard. He was wrong. He didn’t live. Caligula was succeeded by his uncle, Claudius who was eventually poisoned by his wife, Agrippina, (sister of Caligula if you’re keeping score), who would in turn would be ordered murdered by her son, the monstrous, Nero.  She eliminated Claudius so that Nero would succeed him as Emperor. Nero is another of those whose famous last words may be famous, but they probably are not his last. “What a great artist the world loses in me!” (Qualis artifex pereo!).  Condemned to death by the Senate, Nero committed suicide by stabbing himself in the throat and exsanguinated as the Praetorian Guard were on on their way to carry out the sentence. Cicero (106 BC – 43 BC), Roman philosopher, statesman, and orator hated Marc Antony. Antony hated Cicero. With Antony in power, Cicero attempted to escape from Rome. Antony sent solders to kill him. They caught up with him. As they prepared to execute him, he reportedly said “There is nothing proper about what you are doing, soldier, but do try to kill me properly.” The soldiers brought Cicero’s head to Antony. 

 

On the other hand, Lady Nancy Astor, the first woman to serve as a member of Parliament, wondered “Am I dying or is this my birthday?” as she briefly regained consciousness and found her family gathered around her. Charles Darwin, (1809-1882) of Theory of Evolution fame, calmly said “I am not the least afraid to die.”  British General William Erskine (1770-1813), said, “Now why did I do that?” after jumping out of a window in Lisbon, Portugal. We go from the British Army to the British Navy and swashbuckling hero Admiral Horatio Nelson, (1758–1805. Having already lost an eye and an arm in naval battles, what was left of him died of wounds suffered during his victory at the Battle of Trafalgar declaring, “Thank God I have done my duty." Sir Winston Churchill (1874–1965), military hero, author, politician, British Prime Minister during WW II, was just about done with life saying, “I’m bored with it all.” On the other hand, Italian explorer, Marco Polo, 1254-1324), could keep a secret or two about his adventures and travels in Asia.  “I have not told half of what I saw.” Robert Falcon Scott and four others including Captain Lawrence Oates were seeking to become the first to reach the South Pole.  When they arrived on January 17, 1912, they found Roald Amundsen's Norwegian flag and tent already there. On the return trip from the pole after their failure to be first, Antarctic explorer, Oates, (1880-1912) informed his compatriots “I am just going outside and may be some time" as he went outside, barefoot, into a blizzard. His four colleagues died just four days later.  The bodies were found frozen in their tent by a search party. Oates' body was never found.

 

And finally, Todd Beamer (1968 – September 11, 2001), was a passenger on United Flight 93, September 11, 2001.  “Are you guys ready? Let’s Roll”.  These were his last recorded words at the end of a cell phone call before Beamer and others attempted to storm the airliner's cockpit to retake it from Islamic hijackers. The plane crashed near Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

 

You may be familiar with the expression, “Good-bye, cruel world”, it was written in an alleged suicide note printed in the St. Louis Daily Globe-Democrat on August 5, 1875, and the Chicago Daily News on September 26, 1879.

 

Sometimes I wish my first word was 'quote' so that on my deathbed, my last words could be 'end quote.'" —Steven Wright (comedian)

 

 

 

* Please note that these citations have been double and sometimes triple checked because as we know, the internet is not only never wrong, but also good at multiplication. One incorrect quotation will be copied and pasted multiple times ad infinitum. Meiosis and mitosis gone wild. Trust us, we know this from following quite a few ultimately false quotes down the rabbit hole. Still, as thorough and reliable as our research has been, it would be advisable to not rely on this essay as a primary source for your PhD dissertation.

 

Sources:

 

Last Words of Notable People: Final Words of More than 3500 Noteworthy People Throughout History

 

https://grammarist.com/idiom/famous-last-words/

 

https://worldhistoryedu.com/famous-last-words-of-historys-greatest-figures/

 

https://www.phrases.org.uk/famous-last-words

 

http://www.thehypertexts.com/Famous%20Last%20Words.htm

 

 

A Master Class in Mastering The Masters and Environs

 

 

“Oh, the places you’ll go.” – Dr. Seuss

Golf.  The mere mention of the word can cause open eye coma in many. It bores many people senseless. It can cause others to run out of the room, suddenly remembering that they forgot to fold their laundry.  Some people just hate it, often with an accompanying diatribe about effects on the environment. Well, this story is not about golf. It is about travel, fine dining, friendship, and the great outdoors.  Golf just happened to be the motivation, and this is the last time you will see the word, golf

First, to set the stage. In the world of competitive g--f there are four “major” tournaments. Since they are called “major”, they must be very important in some circles.  The four are: the Professional G--fers Association (PGA) tournament, the United States Open (tournament), the British Open (tournament), and the Masters. The first three are very significant in the world of competitive g--f but the Masters is probably the most prestigious. The other three are played at a different g--f course every year. The Masters is played at the Augusta National G--f Club in Augusta, Georgia every year. You just can’t show up and buy tickets. No, no, no. The demand is so great that the opportunity to purchase a ticket at $100 a pop is conducted via a lottery which you have.05% chance of winning after all the “special” people (and there are a lot of them), get their tickets because of their special privileges and because they’re just so special. The great unwashed, that’s us, must enter the lottery along with hundreds of thousands of others. Then you wait for the results and every year you get the “sorry, maybe next year but please try again” email. Every year, friends Jerry, Todd et moi enter the lottery.  Every year we get sorry………….. 

Last June, 9 months before the most recent Masters Tournament would be held, the lottery result emails arrived. Todd got “sorry…….” I got “sorry”. Jerry got congratulations! Jerry won the lottery! If you “win” the lottery you may purchase up to four tickets. Evidently, there is a lottery within the lottery to decide on which day you win. There are three practice days before the tournament during which you may watch the Masters entrants practice. They are included in the ticket lottery allocations. The tournament itself is four days, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.  So, the practice days are the other three. When you “win” you win the opportunity to buy your ticket(s). You are assigned a day.  You cannot choose the day in which you wish to attend the tournament. Whatever day you get, you get.  There are no options. Take it or leave it.  Monday is the worst day as many golfers have not even arrived. Tuesday is a bit better as most tournament entrants are out practicing. Very informal.  Wednesday is better still as all the g--fers are out practicing.  They also feature a “Par Three” mini tournament with quite a few g--fers and their children playing for fun.  Some find it cute. Jerry “won” Wednesday. It was go Wednesday or don’t go at all and you may never get another .05% opportunity.  We took Wednesday. Our friend and fellow golfer, Bill, would join us.  So, Jerry purchased the tickets.  The four of us, Jerry, Todd, Bill and were going to the Masters. Actually, being guys, we have all acquired nicknames through the years so Gben, Coach, Little Bill (now abbreviated to L.B), and the Blade were going to the Masters.

A week later, it was still June, we decided that we should find a place to stay in Augusta the following April. Fat chance. Not only is every place booked within a 50-mile radius but everyone in Georgia and western South Carolina sees this as an opportunity to get rich. Prices for hotels were breathtaking. Prices for Airbnb’s were stunning. We (I) were not going to share bathrooms or bedroom.  Hotels were out.  Jerry and I spent days exploring and pricing and looking at Google driving directions for travel times in an ever-expanding radius of Airbnb’s. Four bedrooms and four bathrooms made it challenging at a price that did not involve taking out a home equity loan. Many places wanted immediate, nonrefundable, down payments. There were reasonably priced Airbnb’s in Oklahoma but that would be a bit of a drive.  We finally found lodgings that met our requirements in Prosperity, South Carolina on Lake Murray, a mere 69 miles or an hour and 15 minutes from Augusta. We took it. We would have a 2+ hour flight from Scranton Pa. to Charlotte NC.  Then a 2+hour drive from Charlotte to Prosperity which is a very appropriately named place as all the people providing at extraordinary prices, places to stay for Masters attendees will prosper. So now we had our $100 tickets and our multi hundred dollars Airbnb costs.  All we needed was airfare and a rental car but that could wait a few months.

 

Why the fuss?  Its website informs us that Augusta National is famous for its “immaculate conditioning, presenting impeccably manicured playing corridors, pine straw-lined fairways, flower beds dotted throughout, beautifully tended ponds – and wildly sloping putting surfaces.” The sand traps are not even sand.  They are white granulated quartz. If you are caught purloining a handful of sand (white granulated quartz) from a white granulated quartz (sand) trap they will arrest you. Really. Todd attended a few years ago and was able to sneak out some blades of grass which he framed and presented to me as a souvenir.  Really.  Since the course was once a plant nursery, every hole on the scorecard is named after a flower, shrub or tree that can be found across the property.  For example, we have Flowering Crab Apple, Magnolia, Camellia, Azalea…….There is one named Pampas but I don’t think that has anything to do with Argentina.  There are no holes named Pimento, but pimento is very popular on t shirts, hats and cheese sandwiches. 

Having secured the necessary airfare – Unfortunately, American is the only airline that flies non-stop from Scranton to Charlotte – and a rental car for the Charlotte to Prosperity to Augusta, back to Prosperity and returning to Charlotte travel, we were ready to go.   It was January. When April 8 came around, we were off to Scranton Airport at 8 for our noon flight, then to Charlotte Airport by 2:00ish where we met Todd who had flown up from Bandera, Texas. There was a long line at the Budget Rental Car desk. Keep that “long line” in mind.  It will come up again. Often. We were Prosperity bound, and we got to sample lots of nice North and South Carolina back country roads enroute. Driving directions featured a plethora of “5 miles and left at the stop sign”, “7 miles and right at Earl’s barn”, “3 miles and left just past the railroad crossing”………you get the idea. We were singing the Banjo music from the movie Deliverance. After the eighth, or was it ninth “right”, we decided that liquid refreshments for the evening would be in order for some relaxation after our Haj. The search was on for an “ABC Store” (named after the state Alcoholic Beverage Control commission that operates them), while in South Carolina they often say, “red dot stores,” because most liquor stores in the Palmetto State display three red dots on their signs. Finding one of them was easier than finding a breakfast on Thursday morning as we shall see. We were now supplied for the evenings to come. The Airbnb in Prosperity was beautiful.  Huge house right on the lake, contemporary open concept, ensuite bathrooms, gourmet kitchen, and a lanai….. on the lake. Could have been on HGTV. After unpacking, we walked down to the dock to admire the lake, and to sample the beautiful South Carolina evening. The decking of the dock seemed to be vibrating. Ten million insects, maybe more, traveling in clouds, were waiting for us. The insects attacked. We beat a hasty rather undignified retreat.  Well, Bill and Jerry ran back to the house and the safety of the Lanai. I did, too, but only after taking pictures of them running and waving their arms to ward off the attacking hordes. It was quite a sight. 

Safe and unbitten, the insects looked like mosquitoes but evidently weren’t, we now sat on the lanai, enjoyed the sunset and had a libation. Then we were hungry.  Very hungry. This was another recurring theme of our expedition. After the long day of travel, we wanted somewhere close by to eat.  “San Jose on the Marina and Dock”, 10 minutes away, sounded good.  Off we went. It was your typical small restaurant on a lake establishment. This one was Mexican. We discovered that the restaurant serving procedure was to enter and go directly to a counter, get a menu, take the menu to a table (you find the table), pick out your meal, go back to the counter, tell them what you want and get a beer. We did. Then we went back to our table. Then we sat down. Then Bill’s meal appeared. Talk about fast food! Within minutes, Jerry and Todd’s meals appeared. Mine took another 5 minutes. I felt neglected. Trust me, this was the fastest service you will ever have in a restaurant. No “fast food” restaurant could ever beat it.  The surprising thing was that the food was quite good plus we were quite hungry.  We chatted, ate our food, wondered at the speed of light with which the food was delivered, and watched the activity on the lake. It must be a deep lake as some guy was scuba diving. I wanted to return to San Jose for dinner the following evening to see if we this time we would get our meals before we ordered them. 

Augusta National G__F course and the Masters have very strict rules of behavior for the Patrons.  Note, at Augusta, you are not a spectator, you are a “patron”. No cell phones, (there are courtesy phones). You can wear smart watches and fitness trackers but you cannot use them for phone calls, emails, text messaging, or to record and/or transmit voice, video or data. No selfie sticks. No periscopes. No Monoscopes. No tripods. No cephalopods. No arthropods. No running. No cameras, although cameras but not cell phones are allowed on the Practice Days. Patrons can bring chairs or stools inside the grounds but must be collapsible with no arms. Most people find it easier to just buy a chair at the G--f Store. Jerry and Todd brought their chairs from a from previous Masters adventure. They were Masters’ veterans and were familiar with the course and usually helpful, guides. They were quite a sight with their bags and chairs boarding the flight to Charlotte. Evidently the Masters chair is recognized as a badge of honor by many g—fers and Jerry received several greetings from guys  both going and coming…..even in a men’s room on one occasion. “You going to the Masters?” Anyway, back to the rules.  No backwards ball caps. We saw security politely ask two geniuses to turn their caps around. No yelling. No souvenirs including g--f balls, flags, trees, flowers. That includes the granulated quartz (sand). In 2012, some worthy was arrested for trying to fill his cup with “sand” from the course. The ensuing tribulations cost him an estimated $20,000 between lawyer fees and a non-refundable Masters badge. Attendees are expected to dress in business casual or "g--f casual" attire. No tank tops, flip flops, spaghetti straps or ragged jeans. No g--f shoes with metal spikes. Backpacks, bags or purses must be no larger than 10”x10”x12”.  You get the idea. On the other hand, all, and there are a lot of them, the volunteers, security, and employees are exceedingly polite, helpful, and efficient and contribute to a delightful day in the great outdoors. 

The Augusta National grounds open at 7:00 and course opens at 7:30. We decided to leave at 6 a.m. which would get us there at 7:15 and we would stroll right in and go to the G--f store first, get that out of the way and enjoy the rest of the day at our leisure. That morning featured the unpleasant discovery that as beautiful as the house was, the plumbing left a lot to desired. One toilet tank had no water. This was after a toilet use that required it to fill with water on flushing.  A water bottle filled multiple times at the sink and emptied into the tank solved the problem. Water pressure in the showers was just about the same as a wateringcan nozzle. One (extra bathroom) had no water at all and there was no mirror above the sink in my bathroom. This was to confuse me several times during as our stay. Think of how often you look in your bathroom mirror. 

So, by 6:00 we were off to Augusta.  Unfortunately, a few thousand other people in the surrounding areas had similar ideas about arriving at 7:15. We all arrived at the same time.  The roads on last 2 miles to the course took 20 minutes or so to navigate but at least as we sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic, we got to see a few dozen large tents and stands offering “Masters Tickets”. I have no idea as to price or legitimacy, but I wouldn’t buy a ticket there if I were you. The entire parking experience, when we finally arrived at the “promised land”, like the rest of the day was very well organized. We were directed to a parking spot. I noted the spot on my small leather covered notebook that is inscribed “Secret Plan for World Domination (I take it on for every tour) so we could find the spot later.  We were ready to go.  So was everyone else.  We were at the South Gate.  There is also a North Gate. The line for the South Gate was 100 yards long and 4/5 people wide. From afar, it looked like the migration of the wildebeest on the Serengeti Plain. We moved, but slowly. It was 47°. I was in shorts. The guys were dressed for the colder weather. The people in line seemed to be evenly divided between “I’m in Georgia in April for the Masters and I’m going to wear g--f attire no matter what” and “it’s cold! I don’t want to be cold. Multiple layers are called for”. Being surrounded by a sea of humanity helped us g--f attire gang stay warm. As we slowly moved towards the entry gate, we noted the sniffing dogs in and out of the crowd, heavily armed swat teams (only then, did we think of terrorists), and helpful volunteers reminding us that our tickets had to be displayed hanging from a button on a shirt, lanyard, or shoulder strap for some ladies but NOT on a hat or belt. Adjustments were quickly made. The entry itself was like a toll booth on a highway with several available lines.  At the edges were special lines for those special people. Naturally, they moved quickly. As for the rest of us, friends were made. “Where are you from?” “England” and then forgotten. That’s the thing about lines. In many ways they are like sitting next to a stranger on a plane flight but in digest version.  People become acquainted they talk. Then when you are in or landed and off you go. That’s except for when they meet and then get married but that’s another essay involving the Hallmark Channel. However, we digress.  Here at Augusta National, there are lots of special lines and places on the course for special people and everyone’s ticket has little rectangles of different colors so security knows who belongs where and who can go where. Most of us were among the riff raff with just 4 different colors.  I noted later that some special people had as many as 8.

So, at last, our tickets were scanned. We were in! We now officially “patrons”. Why patrons? If I go to any other sporting event, I’m a spectator. Clifford Roberts, and Bobby Jones, founders of the Masters Tournament believed that the attendees were not mere spectators but consumers of an experience, much like restaurant or opera patrons. Attending was an experience.  I felt a special glow now that I was officially a patron.  In fact, after we returned home, I had “Masters Patron” t shirts printed up for the boys. Why printed? Why not at the actual course? I’ll tell you about the on-site g--f store in a little while. 

What to do next? Naturally, after one leaves the entry area one is funneled through a shady (and chilly) path bordered by azaleas and magnolias towards the Masters G--f Shop.  There are two large ones. One is at the South Gate and the other at, yes, the North Gate. You have to pass by them to get to the rest of the course. There are several smaller stands on the course but only at the “G--f Shop” can one get items such a Masters Gnomes, Masters ties, or Masters folding chairs. The g--f shop was my main target. “Let’s buy our stuff” and then enjoy the day. We encountered a gentleman in front of a large group of people forming a rather long zig zag line holding a sign, “Wait time for g--f store 45 minutes.”  Well, that was out. Conveniently there were rest rooms nearby. The line for the men’ side was as long as the line for the women’s side and extended out of the restroom and about 10 yards down the path.  No one was holding up a sign that indicated wait time for urinal 45 minutes. There was also a Concession Area.  That meant food. There was a line for the Concession Area. No “restaurants” or “cafeterias” at Augusta National, just Concession Areas. No sign for wait time. We were hungry, again. Leaving at 6 a.m. meant no breakfast. The line seemed to be moving quickly. We joined it. The Masters is famous for low priced, but good food.  Sandwiches, $3.00 or less. Beverages 1.50. Beer, $5.00 but it was a bit early for beer. The food is served cafeteria style. Sandwiches are wrapped and you grab what you want as you move along the counters. Quick and painless. After you get your food, there are metal high-top tables for you to stand and consume your food. I got a “breakfast sandwich” which I found when I opened the bag to be a sausage patty, egg, and cheese on a bun.  I was hungry. It was tasty.  So was the coffee. The high-top tables even had little Masters logos - a map of the U.S with a Masters flag plonked on to northeast Georgia in case you forgot where you were. Beverages were served in plastic tumblers with the Masters logo. We later noted that people were collecting them, walking around with stack of seven or eight. Some were actually dumpster diving, looking for them in trash bins. Bill mentioned herpes. 

By now we were well fed and the sun was up and so was the temperature. Even though we were still in the shade of the magnolias and azaleas, and temporary bleachers we g--f attire patrons, having endured an hour or so of chilly weather, were now properly attired.  As Bill said, later in the morning, “I never thought I’d be sweating today.” 

When I was 7, my father took me to my first baseball game at Yankee Stadium. One of my principal memories of that day is walking up a covered ramp towards the field and suddenly, then there it was, a beautiful green sunlit baseball field spread out before me.  It was magical.  It don’t remember much about the game (the Yankees lost) but I’ll always remember my first site of the field. And so, as we walked out of the shade of the bleachers there, bathed in bright sunlight, was the Augusta course spread out before us in all directions. It was warm.  It was magical.  I’ve read that there are as many as 300 shades of green. I think they were all there. What wasn’t green was the white to purple, pink, red, orange and yellow of azaleas. They are always in full bloom at the Masters.  They wouldn’t have the nerve not to be. 

This was when I was almost brained by a g--f ball. As I was to learn, patrons may walk across the fairways. They may not walk across a fairway when the volunteers put up temporary rope barriers while the g—fers are hitting. There I was, admiring the course and thoughtfully, all the people around me moved out of the way so I could get a better photo of the 13^th g—-f green. A volunteer asked me to move. I looked around.  I was the only one there. I apologized profusely and moved to safety. Shortly afterwards a g—f ball flew by.

We were in a section of the g—f course called ‘Amen Corner’. Amen Corner is the most famous section of the course and consists of the 11^th, 12^th, and 13^th holes. They are very challenging. It received its name from a sports journalist, Herbert Warren Wind, in a 1958 article for Sports Illustrated titled “The Fateful Corner.” Wind got the name from a jazz song by Mildred Bailey titled Shouting in that Amen Corner. How strange to see the area that we had seen for years on TV in person. Oh, and there were g--fers out there practicing. It was difficult to identify them until they got close enough for us to read the name on the back of caddy’s uniform. Rory McElroy was easy to identify but not easy to see since he drew the largest crowds. However, for us, seeing the golfers took a back seat to seeing and being on and walking the course. It was perfect weather on what is surely the most beautiful g—f course in the world. The practice days are for the entire course experience as much as to see g--f. Perhaps more as the crowds are much smaller and spread out. It is a beautiful day in the country. Sometimes we would stop and watch the g—fers. We were about five feet behind one named Brian Harman at “Juniper” (hole #6). He swung.  He hit the ball. It landed 165 yards away just inches from the hole. He turned towards us, held out his arms, and said “nothing to it”. 

There were still sites to see. Among them was Founders Circle. One must have one’s picture taken at Founders Circle at the end of Magnolia Drive in front of the Clubhouse. At the time we had no idea what Founders Circle is but the guidebook insisted that we have our photos taken there. We later learned that it is a plaque on a flagpole at the end of the main entrance, in front of the Clubhouse. We wended our way at a leisurely pace, stopping occasionally to watch g—f and to take pictures, towards the first hole, the clubhouse and Founders Circle. At the first hole, we saw the top of Rory McElroy’s head as he hit his first shot.  Founders Circle photo ops ended at 10:30.  It was 10:15. We asked a security guard where Founders Circle was. She was the only nasty person we met all day as she informed us that we were too late. The “line is closed”.  Discouraged, we ambled towards the clubhouse where we met another security guard. Feigning ignorance, we asked him where Founders Circle was and he pointed and said you we should get in line right away as it was “closing soon”. We didn’t have far to go to get in line since it was a 50-yard long line and it ended right in front of us.  We got in line. Twenty minutes later, having made friends with people from New Jersey, we had our photo taken at Founders Circle. Photo process took 30 seconds, tops. Saw the flagpole, never saw the plaque.  You pose, someone takes the photo, there were five such group poses simultaneous going on left to right in front of the flap pole.  Assembly line photo ops. Then they give you a card with a QR code and you can download the picture. It is free.  If you go to the Masters, skip it. It’s not worth the wait unless you like long lines. 

Having wasted 20 or more minutes standing on another line, we resumed our tour. Photos were taken.  After a while, Jerry and Todd’s chairs came into use for the first (and only) time. A bad back and a bad foot required a bit of a rest for Bill and Todd. They sat alongside a fairway and enjoyed the golf. Jerry and I set off in search of some bleachers so we could all sit. The bleachers were fairly close by and empty, (they would not be empty during the actual tournament), and we all sat and watched g—fers practicing their putting at the green below us. There was a touch of irony with Jerry and Todd bringing their chairs to sit on the bleacher bench. I had my Secret Plan for World Domination notebook out and was making notes on our adventures thus far. A security guard joined us. Having seen my notebook, he took out his own notebook and showed me some of the notes he had made over his 9 years of security guarding at Augusta. He was quite informative, and we had a pleasant chat.  He told us that the average patron spends $1,000 at the G—F Shop. Some spend $2,500.  Later in the day we would see how this can happen. We learned that each Concession Area averages 56 kegs of beer a day at 16 gallons per keg. Unlike coffee, which they stop serving at 10 a.m., they never turn the taps off. He told us more tales of g--fers and g--f, notably the location of the secret g--fers only Portosans. I was determined to find one and take a picture. We had a great conversation and eventually he decided he should get back to work defending the empty bleachers.  He left us with a g—f joke (there are too many to count). It was a bit off color and does not warrant repeating. I, being me, decided to leave him with a g—f joke.  It is a bit off color and does not bear repeating. He laughed heartily and we all said goodbye. Perhaps he would return to the bleachers when he saw someone else with a notebook. After the bleachers, I had three goals: a savory tomato sandwich, the G—f Shop and seeing the Players Portosan.  Off we went but first, Bill and Todd would require some Motrin for pain relief. We were probably on our feet for 95% of the time we were there. Thus began the Great Motrin Quest. We asked a security guard where we could obtain some.  As Bill asked the guard, he was overheard by another patron. The man turned around and kindly gave Bill a small, sealed packet of Motrin. Meanwhile, the security guard, having carried out his Motrin Location duties began talking to us.  Within the next few minutes, we learned that he was an ex-marine and his son ex-army and his son (there was more) had become acquainted with former Masters Champion, Sandy Lyle, a Scotsman.   When his son went to Scotland on his honeymoon, he met up with Sandy Lyle again and they all went to lunch.  His son e-mailed him that he was having lunch with Sandy Lyle and he was sorry dad couldn’t be there……..But he could have been there if his son had told him about the plans.  We were now getting hungry again and we still needed more Motrin and the Concession Area was just ahead. We bid farewell to Sandy Lyle’s friend in law, and we thanked him for his service and got in line for lunch.  I was looking forward to a “Savory Tomato Sandwich”.  Everyone got sandwiches and a beer except for me. There were no “savory tomato sandwiches” to be seen.  One had to keep moving in line and before I knew it, I was at the check-out.  That’s where they keep the Motrin. They now had lunch and Motrin.  There was just one problem. We could not open the little packet of Motrin. The tear off did not work. No tearing anywhere would work. The four of us took turns and spent quite a bit of time at this. Nothing. Everyone ate their lunch, and I repaired to the utensil area to continue attempts at Motrin liberation.  Plastic knives, forks and straws do not work.  Finally, Bill, having finished his lunch, suggested stabbing it with a pen tip. It worked. Everyone got their Motrin and off we went.  

It occurred to us that with people being at lunch and the popular Par Three Tournament now taking place, that it might be a good time to visit the G—f Shop.   There was just one minor problem.  We were somewhere in the middle of the course.  Where was the G—f Shop? A volunteer pointed us back to the Clubhouse. It seemed to be pretty far away. There were people carrying see-through shopping bags from the G—f Shop.  I asked two of them.  Simultaneously, each pointed in a different direction.  However, most people with the see-through bags were coming from the same direction. It was towards the South Gate where we had first entered. That’s where we went. Finally, after asking at least four more people where the G—f Shop was, we found it! The wait time was 15 minutes according to the volunteer at the end of the zig zag line with ropes and stanchions outside the G.S. 15 minutes was a mere pittance. On arriving at the course so many hours ago, I was looking forward to the G—f shop, mainly for souvenirs and mainly because I thought the prices would be like the food…….bargains.  When I mentioned this to Masters Veteran, Jerry, he quickly disabused me of that foolish notion. No, prices at the G—f Shop were on a “par” with pro shops at any expensive g—f course. On entering, we quickly saw how people could drop a grand there and drop it quickly. One buys items for oneself, one’s family, and one’s friends. “Going to the Masters? Can you get me a…………” You name it, they had it.  During our mission to find the shop, we observed what people were buying by looking at the see-through shopping bags. Masters Gnomes? Really?  Inside the shop they were $50 each. People had multiple gnomes. There was apparel galore. Equipment galore, glassware galore.  Bargains galore? Not so much. There were at least 3 counters for hats alone. Along with the crowd and the cacophony of sounds, “I got five sweaters” (note – sweaters were $249 plus tax each and there goes a grand) said a woman in line behind me.  It was almost overwhelming. Service was quick and easy. I left with one hat $34 one shirt, $89, one Masters refrigerator magnet for myself and gifts for friends and family, Masters G—f towels and Masters ball markers, and $174 less on the debit card. Note, everything at the Masters is cashless so bring cards. We all met outside, partially stunned at the amount of money we had just spent. We did get the see-through plastic Masters shopping bags for free and there was no line for the Men’s Room.

Exhausted from our search and shopping spree, we found another Concession Area and bleacher at the 16^th hole.  No “savory tomato sandwiches”. I was concerned that my “savory tomato sandwich” pursuit was doomed to failure. They didn’t even have any Pimento and Cheese sandwiches left as a consolation prize. Coffee, as we have mentioned was no longer available. We watched some patrons dumpster diving for beverage containers. There was plenty of beer though. On our way to the bleachers, I spotted it. It was The Players Portosan! It’s not actually a Portosan, it is a small shack located in a shady spot built of dark wood with a wooden plaque on the door saying, “Players Only”. There is a stool outside where I presume a volunteer guards the premises against non-player would be bladder emptiers, or worse. I thought the stool sample outside was a poetic  touch.  I took a picture.  We could do anything. Go anywhere.  We decided to sit in the bleachers again. This time we sat at the tee box at the 16^th hole (Redbud Tree). Indulge me, non g—fers and g—f haters. The tee is where g—fers hit their first shot. The 16^th hole is a par 3 meaning it should take the g—fer three shots to get the ball in the hole. For the first shot on this hole, they must hit over a long pond. But this was a practice day so there was fun involved. There were three g—fers. They hit their initial shots but then came the treat for the crowd. With all of us in the crowd cheering them on, the three lined up side by side and in tandem they hit shots designed to skim across the water the way one would skim a stone on multiple bounces on water. All swung at once. All hit the ball simultaneously. All had multiple bounces across the water. All failed to get their shots across the water onto dry land. The crowd groaned and then the crowd cheered again. A light human moment shared by competitors and spectators patrons. They acknowledged our cheers.   

These were about the last g—fers we would see today as by this time almost all the g—fers had finished practicing. We then watched patrons taking pictures of each other down at the tee box. Eventually, we did too.

 Close by was the beautiful 15^th hole (Firethorn Flower) surrounded on three sides by Firethorn flowers and the de rigueur azaleas. There was a bleacher for us to sit in (on?) and we watched g--ferless caddies walking around with g—f GPS thingies taking measurements of distances and slopes for the worthies who were now resting somewhere in anticipation of tomorrow’s opening round.  We took more pictures. Bill said, “what do you want to do now”?. I said, “let’s go stand in a line.”  A lone g—fer approached. He must have not gotten the memo about finishing practice by 1:00. We would watch him putt. Two men approached him. They must have been officials. They chatted. We waited.  They chatted. We took more pictures.  They chatted. We waited. The g—fer finished chatting. He picked up the ball and walked away. Never did putt.  We decided, in Jerry’s words, to “just walk around and enjoy the Masters experience.” That included another Concession Area. No “savory tomato sandwiches”.  In fact, by 2:30 there was no savory anything except beer and a bag of sliced apples. We wandered a bit but we stayed close to the “back nine” rather than walk a mile back to the environs of the Clubhouse.  By 3:00 we were just about done and it was time to trek to the parking lot and attempt to find our car. Everyone else had the same idea.  As we left, there was a caravan of grounds crew in carts loaded with gardening tools headed for the course in the opposite direction to prepare it for tomorrow.  Surprisingly, as we left, there was still a trickle of people entering.  I suppose it was because the line for the G—f Shop was very short. Beer could not be taken past the exit and a security guard stood there exhorting people to “don’t guzzle” as they tried to finish their beer before the exit.

Now, to find the car. There was a sea of metal as far as the eye could see.  We had written the location. We walked.  It seemed to be further away than this morning.  We walked some more. We followed the letter/numbers looking for E 14. We finally arrived at E 14. The car wasn’t there. We were all agreed it was E 14.  We had a white car.  There were a few white cars. None of them was ours. It was time to push the key ring, wave it around and follow the beep.  Standard procedure for when you can’t find your car. No beep.  We were at the correct location but wait……there seemed to be a location annex. Our location resumed on the other side of a wide aisle and there was our white car, a Chevy Impala ……. didn’t know they still make them.  We joined the slowly moving conga lines of cars exiting as all merged onto a single lane road. Then, a left turn, past the Masters Tickets tents, a right turn and we were on the highway headed back to Prosperity. This was when Todd decided to channel his inner Forest Gump and our return trip featured a litany of Forest Gump quotes complete with Todd’s very accurate accent.  "Stupid is as stupid does."….. "Momma always had a way of explaining things so I could understand them."…….”I may not be a smart man but I know what love is”…, the inevitable, “Mama always says life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you may get”. He is quite good.  Take a ride with him someday. 

Back at the Airbnb, we were thirsty and hungry. The insects hovered in clouds outside the lanai daring us to go outside. Thirst came first. Again, we did not wish to travel far for our dinner. Perhaps the San Jose at the Marina and Dock already had our meal ready for us? We decided on The Steel Horse Smokehouse. It was reasonably close and, in the event, turned out to be a small, and typical BBQ restaurant with the typical BBQ restaurant ambiance, or lack of, and seating.  The front room was dominated by a huge Harley Davidson parked against one wall. It was a display. There were no customers in the front room. Probably too intimidating.  A waitress welcomed us, showed us to our table in the middle of the main room. I asked for separate checks. Apparently, this stunned her. Had she never had that request before? “Four tickets? You want FOUR tickets?” She was a rather large woman and for a moment we were afraid she was going to hit me over the head with a chair, but she quickly calmed down, gave us our menus, and disappeared into the kitchen muttering “four tickets”.  When she reappeared, she had decided to be our friend. We placed our orders, mostly. I asked for Blue Moon beer. “We ran out of it Saturday”. Jerry asked about an entrée. “We ran out of it Saturday”.  Todd asked about a dessert. She said, “we have a bakery”. “Really?” Said we? “You have a bakery?” She responded, “This is a BBQ place honey. Does it look like we have a bakery?” We chuckled at her joke. We think it was a joke. Todd asked about cheesecake. “We ran out of it Saturday”. My advice to you if you go to the Steel Horse Smokehouse, go on a Friday.  Jerry ordered a pulled pork dinner with two sides, green beans and baked beans. She said “two sides of beans? I sure don’t want to be in the car with you going home sugar. You’ll be toot tooting all the way.” Off she went.  A while later, after normal restaurant wait time, not San Jose at the Marina and Dock wait time, the door to the kitchen opened and a robot came silently rolling out with our food. It looked just like R2 D2 from Star Wars (back when the Star Wars franchise was quality entertainment) but with two big round eyes in the front of its blue “head” blinking lights running up and down the sides with four shelves in the white torso/body containing our entrees under heating lamps. Oh yes, with Easter not far away, it also had giant pink bunny ears attached to its head.  It was quite a show. None of us had ever been served by a robot in a restaurant. Subsequent research indicated that this is rare but not uncommon but having this thing come at us with flashing lights in a rather lackluster BBQ place in the backwoods of South Carolina rendered us temporarily speechless. I even forgot to take its picture. Our waitress accompanied the machine, and she placed our plates on the table.  Since she was now our friend, she also placed herself on the table, resting a rather large hip on one edge as she chatted about the robot as if we were old friends. We answered in monosyllables because we had our food and were ready to eat and the robot looked threatening. Eventually, she and the robot went back in the kitchen. As the robot was entering the kitchen, another waitress emerged.  The robot swerved around the heavily tattooed server, narrowly missing her.  I said, “it almost got you.” She, looked at me and said, “it don’t mess with me sugar.”  Dinner was anticlimactic. After Todd’s dessert, served by a human, it ended up being key lime pie, which had evidently survived Saturday. We had another brief chat with our waitress as we received our individual “tickets”, and we were done. As we departed, we waved goodbye to the giant motorcycle taking up 1/3 of the front room and it was back to the Airbnb for some libations at the end of a very long, tiring, and just about perfect day.  It was everything we could hope for and more. Perfect weather. Have I mentioned that? We saw Augusta National up close and personal, we saw g—fers, we visited the G—f Shop, spent a bit of money, ate well, although I didn’t get my “savory” tomato sandwich,  stood in quite a few lines, and even met a robot. 

Our flights on Thursday were around 2 p.m. so we decided that we would leave early and stop on the way for breakfast. Surely there would be a place to stop for breakfast between Prosperity and Charleston Airport.  The first hour of our 2 + hour drive to Charleston was a repeat of Tuesday’s 3 miles and left at the stop sign, 5 miles and right after the railroad tracks…….we would be passing through several towns. There was not a single diner, café, breakfast place, restaurant, food truck on the entire route. None. Nada. Zilch. And we looked. Where do these people dine out?  Do they dine out? Each time we approached what looked like civilization, conversation stopped, and four sets of eyes scanned the area for anything resembling a dining establishment. Alas, as Dorothy Parker said of Oakland, there was no there there. There were many more lefts and rights and small towns, and we were getting hungrier and as we passed a school we wondered if perhaps they had some breakfasts left. We were very hungry. Did I mention that? We traveled for 90 minutes past garage mechanics, cemeteries, a Chevrolet dealership, lawn and gardening centers, vape shops, more schools, churches, pet groomers, thrift shops, and the occasional gas station. Finally, on the highway, there was usual assortment of fast-food outlets but nowhere for four very hungry boys to sit down and have the breakfast we deserved. At last, we finally found a Cracker Barrel. It was our last, best hope. We were 30 minutes from the airport.  We were weak from hunger and barely had enough strength to exit the car, walk across the parking lot, navigate the usual chorus line of rocking chairs on the front porch, go through the usual “store” overflowing with apparel, furniture, and the customary vast assortment of tchotchkes, entered the restaurant and were shown to a table. Our server’s name was Tabitha. We refrained from making any Bewitched comments as Bill reminded us, she had probably heard them all of her life. Besides, we were hungry. Ordering the food took quite a while as there was lots of food to order.  Tabitha and the food arrived as we were getting weaker from hunger. It looked like we might need a bigger table for the breakfast.  There were a lot of victuals. Too many for the table.  We had to do some stacking and plate combining.  Then, seemingly in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Those boys can eat. 

Sated, we lumbered out of Cracker Barrel and resumed our ride to the airport. The rest was the usual airport challenges and hurdles. Charlotte’s security lines were manageable. There was a minor crisis as Jerry noted that the bottom was falling out of the cover for his Masters Chair that he had brought, carried all over the g—f course but never used. To protect the chair that he never used, he decided to bring it on the plane and stow it in the overhead compartment where he would again not use it, and gate check his rolling bag instead. Naturally, our flight was delayed 30 minutes but at least we weren’t hungry.

Todd left for Texas, and we arrived at Scranton around 5:30. Jerry’s chair didn’t fall out of his case. South and North Carolina were sunny, green and lush and mostly warm. It was the way weather should be. Pennsylvania, welcomed us with cloudy, cold, windy, raw and miserable with the bonus of imminent snow. We had tales to tell and gifts to give.  After a minor glitch exiting the parking lot, I kept trying to put my parking ticket card in the credit card slot, several times, much to the chagrin of the people lined up in cars behind us, we were home by 6:30ish since we no longer had to look for somewhere to eat breakfast.  The snow came at 8. On Friday there was 3” of snow. It was sunny and warm in Augusta. 

Two days of flying and driving, bookending nine hours of walking (and standing in line) on the most beautiful g--f course/former plant nursery in the world. A once in a lifetime experience and we enjoyed all of it, although about those savory tomato sandwiches…………