The Real Story of the 1946
Davis Cup: Part 1
Gardnar Mulloy
In 1946 the Davis Cup competition resumed after six years of World War. I was part of the U.S. team that advanced to the final and then traveled to Australia to challenge for the Cup. The trek did not did not begin auspiciously.
The American governing body, then named the United State Lawn Tennis Association, ruled that no wives could accompany their husbands on the trip. But like so many other rules the Association made this one was bent and twisted.
When the team assembled in San Francisco early in November, Jack Kramer, Bill Talbert, Ted Schroeder and myself had left our wives at home. But Frankie Parker had brought his wife, Audrey, with him. (The sixth member of the team, Tom Brown, was unmarried.)
The Ultimatum
Apparently, though we didn't know it at the time, Frankie had issued an ultimatum--no wife, no go! Since the Association considered him indispensable for the singles, of which Frankie was well aware, Audrey came too. The subsequent events showed that the USLTA was badly in need of a new crystal ball.
The seventh and final member of our team was our non-playing captain, Walter L. Pate, a short, middle-aged Wall Street lawyer, with a tremendous enthusiasm for the game. In his younger days he had broken a hip, while playing a match and now walked with a limp.
Pate had captained pre-war teams, among them the one which had lost to Australia in 1938. It was a fitting gesture, therefore, to give him the opportunity to bring back the cup, and one for which his experience qualified him.
Loyal to his team with an aversion to hurting anyone's feelings, he could still put his foot down with unshakable firmness when necessary. These were qualities for which the boys adored him. Before the tour was over he was to become one of my best friends in tennis.
The fast Pan American Clipper flew us first into Auckland, New Zealand, where we played several exhibitions before journeying on to Sydney. Immediately we had a workout and got the press on our backs.
The Media Buzz
After a long trip we were not very impressive and' the papers told their readers that our team did not look so hot. In fact, the press took a hostile attitude towards the team, and me in particular, that grew more antagonistic as the tour progressed.
Prior to the Davis Cup match we participated in several tournaments and in the Victorian State Championships Billy Talbert and I reached the finals of the doubles. Half way through the match the rain came down. Quickly the court was covered with the canvas while we sat it out until the clouds c!eared.
When play resumed I noticed on my service side of the court a large wet patch, where the canvas had leaked. Finding that I skidded every time I followed my serve to the net, I requested the use of spikes. I was refused. Then I fell heavily a couple of times and again asked for permission to use spikes. Again this was denied.
Changing ends, Billy and I were hailed by Captain Pate who was sitting in the bottom row of the stand. I went over to him. "What’s the trouble, Gar?"he asked. I explained what had been happening.
"Right," he said shortly. "Go and put on your spikes. If they refuse to accept this, walk off the court and default. We did not come here just for a game of tennis but to win the Davis Cup. With that at stake I will not jeopardize the health of any of my players."
I walked over to the umpire and, coldly, word for word, repeated to him what Captain Pate had said and sat down to put on my spikes. No referee ever tried harder to enforce his authority.
"Mulloy, he drawled. "I have not given you permission to wear spikes. I am in charge of this match and I do not consider the court wet enough to justify their use."
I said nothing. Billy and I picked up our rackets and other gear and started to leave the court. The audience, already sparking off with remarks and cat calls, now erupted into prolonged, loud booing and hooting. The match was deteriorating into a fiasco.
Realizing this, and that our intention to default was serious, the umpire recalled us and granted me permission to use spikes. The match continued and the Australians, John Bromwich and his partner, proceeded to win.
Next morning's newspapers left me no doubt as to where I stood with the Australian press. They accused me of bad sportsmanship and bad manners; they said I had created for my own selfish ends a situation by which, if I could not wear spikes, I would not play.
There was no mention at all of my acting under our captain's orders. They said I was a rotten tennis player, anyway. Overnight I had become their number one hate, and from then on could do nothing right. Without any genuine provocation whatsoever the reporters pilloried me almost every day of my three months stay in the country.
The People
Nevertheless, this remains one of the best trips I have ever made, thanks to the Australian people, who were wonderful to us; and paradoxically the press were largely responsible.
Following the Victorian Championships and a few more tournaments we returned to Melbourne to practice for the Davis Cup tie. Now the country went wild with excitement and enthusiasm.
Every day pictures and editorial matter about us appeared on the front page of almost all the newspapers. Whatever we did was publicized in a sensational manner, frequently with only the merest concession to truth.
It was like living in a goldfish bowl. And like goldfish, we became known by sight to everybody.
Billy Talbert and I roomed together and went everywhere together. We were treated like kings. At the cinema the cashier, on recognizing us, would hand over the tickets, saying: "Take these, boys. They are on us."
Then the usher would lead us down to the best seats in the house. If they were all occupied she would ask two people if they would kindly getup and allow Mr. Mulloy and Mr. Talbert to sit there. Naturally, we were very embarrassed, but there was never a refusal.
On several occasions in restaurants crowds collected round us for autographs; and at the end of our meal it was not unusual for the manager to come over and pick up the bill, saying: "Gentlemen, it was a pleasure to have you here. This one's on me."
Most of our bus rides were free, too. "The ride's on the company, boys,"said in a friendly Australian accent, indicated that the driver had recognized us. Added to all this spontaneous generosity was the round of official entertainrnents--cocktail parties, dinners, etc.
Here Billy and I differed. He was the party boy. He really loved them; and fortunately had the stamina for them. He could come in at five or six in the morning and still be up at eight for breakfast. He needed only one early night a week to catch up on sleep. One late night finished me for a week!
So, on these occasions, I left Billy to the festivities and joined forces with Tom Brown, who also disliked the social whirl. We had a fixed routine for cocktail parties. After accepting the first drink offered to us, we would work our way through the crowd to the kitchen, raid the ice box and retire in good order to less exhausting pursuits.
The number of official functions was so great that one evening Captain Pate found himself with a speech to make in two different places at the same time. Hurriedly I stepped into the breach, attended a dinner and made his speech for him. I think this endeared me to him more than anything else I had ever done.
The Unhappy Tennis Family
This joyous images of half-a-dozen American tennis players wallowing in bounteous Australian hospitality was, unfortunately, only one side of the picture. On the other side, the scene was not that of a happy tennis family.
The day we landed in Australia Captain Pate had outlined to us his plans. He said that every morning at breakfast the day's activities would be discussed; that he would frequently call players' meetings to seek opinions of who should play whom in both singles and doubles and that nobody had yet been picked for the team.
During the thirty days prior to the Cup match he would have test matches played each day. The two singles players with the best records would play the singles. The doubles combination with the best record would play the doubles. This seemed the pinnacle of fairness.
Then bombshell number one was dropped. Billy Talbert announced that he was not interested in playing the Davis Cup match. He would do anything to help the team but he preferred not to be included.
I was dumbfounded. We were the doubles champions of the United States. We had played together and won the three previous Davis Cup rounds against the Philippines, Mexico and Sweden. We had come here to play the doubles.
When I got him alone, I questioned him. "Listen, Gar,"he replied, "This thing is set. They don't want to use us, so I am giving them an excuse to gracefully refrain from selecting us."
"That's all baloney Billy," I retorted. "You heard Walter say that no one had been picked."
"Don't be so naive, Gar," he pleaded. "You know Davis Cup teams are always all Californian; and that means Kramer with Schroeder or possibly, Parker. Wait and see." 7StillParker Caption: Frankie Parker had the best doubles challenge record as my partner.
"Hell," I exploded angrily. "I don't know any such thing. Listen, Billy, I came down here to be on the team. Walter says the guys with the best record will play and I will hold him to it."
"Mulloy versus California." quipped Billy. 'Well, you just wait and see."
"Acting on the maxim, 'If you can't beat them, join them," I straightaway invited Frankie Parker to play doubles with me and he accepted. Why not? He seemed a certainty for the singles and now stood a great chance of playing right through the match.
It was this, I think, that stirred him to a degree of co-operation lacking in certain other instances. He never attended the breakfast meetings, a very sore point with the boys arid upsetting to Captain Pate.
Furthermore, he was getting a great deal of publicity from some fantastic workouts he staged with his wife, Audrey. He had her hang handkerchiefs on the net and distribute objects about the court. Then, as he hit balls at these targets Audrey would have ball boys chase about and retrieve them. The rest of us doubted the seriousness and practical value of these activities.
Of course, he joined me for the test matches that were played every day, and when the captain called us together to select the team, Frankie and I were undoubtedly the best doubles pair as we had beaten Kramer and Schroeder seventeen out of twenty two times.
Next in Part 2: The continued machinations and finally the actual Cup competition.