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Remembering Janet Seagle, Former USGA Museum Curator
Janet Seagle was instrumental in building the museum collection during her tenure. (USGA Photo Archives)
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By Rhonda Glenn, USGA
Long before computers changed the way of doing nearly everything, Janet Seagle was the perfect guardian of the USGA's library and historical artifact collection at Golf House.
Refined (she loved opera) and well aware of her role as caretaker of some of golf's most precious books and artifacts, she was nonetheless an enthusiastic promoter of golf literature. Sadly, Seagle, lastly holding the title of Curator of the USGA Museum and Archives after serving as Art Editor for Golf Journal and as Publications Manager at the Association, died suddenly on Christmas Day at 79.
I met her for the first time in 1969 at the old brownstone headquarters of Golf House at 40 East 38th St. in New York. I was visiting the city and, having competed in USGA championships since 1963, I had traipsed a mile or so to what I considered to be golf's golden ground. Seagle seemed to be the only one in the building that day, but she graciously gave me a tour, pointing out the clubs that had belonged to USGA champions.
I can, in fact, point to that time as the moment when I became unafraid of the blue-blazered image of the USGA. "We all simply love golf," I remember thinking as Seagle regaled me with anecdotes.
In the 1980s, I began writing about golf and went to the new Golf House in Far Hills, N.J., to do research. I had contributed a number of short pieces to Golf Journal, so Seagle was a bit aware of my work.
I remember sitting at the lovely, long, brilliantly polished Queen Anne table in the library, the sun streaming through the window panes, and feeling so lucky to be in this place, surrounded by the world's greatest collection of golf writing.
Seagle strolled in and asked what I was working on. When I told her, she immediately went to the rows of books, pulling out one here, sailing serenely to another row and pulling another book. All from memory, no computer needed. She then left me alone to make my notes and dream my dreams.
In an hour, she returned. "We need a book on the history of the women's side of the game," she pronounced in what I like to think of as the "Golf House accent," a refined blend of proper English, good manners, and New Jersey strength. "We need it now, while so many of those who mattered are still alive. And you should write it."
I didn't know what to say. She left the room, returning with an armload of copied stories, pieces of articles and books, and plopped them on the table. "You can start with these," she said.
I felt as if I had returned to my high school English class and my teacher had just dumped a huge research project on my desk.
"Yes, Miss Seagle," was all I could think of to say.
"I will set up an appointment for you to interview Glenna Vare and you'll eventually need to go to England to talk to Joyce Wethered, Enid Wilson and the rest," said Seagle. "I'll write to them and let them know you're coming."
Things were moving fast. I had no advance. I had, in fact, no publisher. But golf needed something and Seagle was going to see that golf got it.
"Don't worry," she said. "You write it. We'll get it published."
So we began. I returned to Golf House several times. On each visit, she set huge stacks of books before me, obscure ladies' journals from the late 1800s and delightfully witty books such as Eleanor Helme's, "After the Ball."
"And you'll need this one," she said as she pulled up the library ladder and climbed to the top shelf, "and this one," as she skittered across the room to another treasure, "and this one," she said with finality, and sailed from the room.
When I was home in Texas, just incidentally trying to make a living as a newspaper reporter, I would receive sheaves of photocopied stories and short notes saying, "How is it going? Sincerely, Janet Seagle."
Over the next several years, I had a rather nervous meeting with Vare who, somewhat like Seagle, scared me to death. I went to England; I met Enid and enjoyed her wonderful stories and colorful profanity. I stayed at the home of the gracious Maureen Garrett, the former GB&I Curtis Cup player and captain. I talked to the sister of the late Pam Barton. I researched and tape-recorded and wrote, pursued by the little notes, "How is it going? Sincerely, Janet Seagle." It was going, but pretty slowly. Several years into the project, I was covering the 1985 U.S. Women's Open for ABC Sports at Baltusrol (N.J.) Golf Club. Discovering that Janet had never met any of the players, early in the week I took her up and down the practice tee, introducing her to Nancy Lopez, Juli Inkster and Beth Daniel, all of whom were very sweet.
I was amused that Seagle, who knew everything there was to know about women's golf, seemed suddenly shy and a bit overwhelmed.
Nine years into the project, I finally had enough material to find a publisher. I went to Golf House for a final time to share the news. For the first time, we sat down for a real chat.
She was, I discovered, a very fine golfer, playing in a number of events conducted by the Women's Metropolitan Golf Association and each winter traveling to a time-honored tournament in Bermuda. I later saw that she had a fine golf swing.
This was the week that Mickey Wright's portrait was unveiled. Seagle and Judy Bell had raised the funds to honor the four-time Women's Open champion with a portrait. They had lovingly planned the ceremonies, tea for a smallish crowd to please the shy Wright. Joseph C. Dey, Herbert Warren Wind, Frank Hannigan, David Fay, Betsy Rawls, Kathy Whitworth -- they were all there in an elite little group.
That evening Seagle had arranged a small dinner party and I prompted Wright, Whitworth and Rawls to recall some of the old stories I had heard from them while researching my book. Wright sat between Whitworth and Rawls and listened to their awe-struck commentary on her game.
"The only thing she (Wright) wasn't really good at was a short-range putt," said Rawls. "Yes," said Whitworth, "she wasn't very good from four to nine feet."
"Well, she wasn't that bad!" Wright retorted in her own defense, and we all burst into laughter. It was the sort of warm, wonderful evening you remember forever.
A consummate professional and stickler for accuracy, Seagle held various titles at the USGA. (USGA Photo Archives)
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The book, "The Illustrated History of Women's Golf," was published in the winter of 1991. It received some amazing reviews, including a very long, complimentary write-up in the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated, an interesting but ever so small nod to feminism, I thought.
The acknowledgements to the book dwelled mostly on Seagle's assistance to the project. I sent a book to her. She did not reply. A couple of weeks later I was signing books at the PGA Show in Orlando, when I looked up to see Seagle sailing down the aisle with her book clutched firmly to her breast.
"The book is wonderful, Rhonda," she said, exuberant and smiling. "It's really wonderful. You captured it all. But there's a mistake here on page (whatever). You misspelled her name. That really won't do. You must change it in future editions!"
I saw Seagle a few more times after our collaboration. She had retired from the USGA. Older now, she was ready to just play golf and travel, she said. She was a longtime member of the USGA Senior Women's Amateur Committee and when I played in the 2000 Senior Women's Amateur at Sea Island (Ga.) Golf Club, Seagle was standing guard on the hill next to the 10th fairway as a Rules official.
I was all square in my match and had hit a good drive. I saw Seagle, then hit a 4-iron so hard, yet so fat, that even the divot nearly reached the green with the ball. I felt Seagle staring at my back. ('OK, I'll get it right in the next edition,' I thought.)
Later that afternoon, she caught up with me in the clubhouse. "No, no," she said of that shot, "you just didn't quite have it when I saw you on 10."
Last February, I saw her for the last time when she came to a gathering of the Golf Collector's Society here in Florida. "Janet's here!" several of the collectors called to me, "Janet's here!"
We greeted each other with warm hugs. She looked absolutely elegant; beautifully dressed, her hair beautifully coifed. She was trim and energetic. I had her sign a few books (it was her book too), but after a few minutes she sailed away.
It would be a mistake to think that Seagle was stern or intimidating. When I bought a pound of coffee for the break room near the library, she sent an official USGA certificate to me thanking me for my "generous donation to the collection at Golf House!" I have it in my scrapbook still.
She could be jolly, and she had friends all over the world. She was extremely knowledgeable. She had a fabulous memory. She did things precisely and well and she had little patience for mistakes. But she represented something special to me: she was the perfect representative of the USGA and its adherence to the Rules and its mission to get things right. She was like a favorite English teacher, one whom you wanted to please very much.
Like all of us at Golf House, she believed that what she did was in some small way important to golf. She loved the game and with many, many other writers and me, she did a great deal to advance golf by advancing its literature.
She left an indelible mark.
Rhonda Glenn is the USGA's Manager of Communications. E-mail her at rglenn@usga.org with questions or comments.
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