I was to meet Bobby Riggs' Aspen Airways flight due in at 2:30
p.m., July 27, 1976. Aspen Airways was a small connector airline from
Denver to Aspen. With only a 7,500 foot runway and at 8,000 feet
altitude, only small corporate and private aircraft were permitted to
land there. Aspen Airways flew small, twin-engine turbo prop puddle
jumpers in and out continuously or as continuous as the weather would
allow. On stormy days they usually circled above the mountain peaks
until they found a hole in the clouds, and then descended rapidly,
spiraling down to the field. It was usually a traumatic event for
newcomers, but commonplace to locals. Even on a clear day the mountain
air could create a bumpy ride.
Fortunately today was a bright and
sunny summer one, not a cloud, just a gentle breeze down the runway. It
would probably be a mildly bumpy landing for the passengers. As the
little commercial flight touches down and approaches the terminal where
it will unload the passengers, I walk out onto the tarmac to greet the
Man. Several young and happy couples come out first, then a rather
smallish, disheveled mid-fifty-year-old man, who looks more like an old
hippy than a legendary tennis icon, appears in the doorway. He seems a
bit wobbly and is helped down the stairs by a fairly good-sized,
good-looking, buxom, thirty-something woman. He is wearing a bright
yellow 'Sugar Daddy' T-shirt Perhaps it is a one-size fits all, but it
is two sizes too small. A potbelly pops out where his belt should be. I
was stunned. This was my big event?
"Mr. Riggs, I'm Marv Moore
from the Tennis Club. We're so honored to have you here," I sucked it
up, hoping my disappointment was not evident. "I hope the flight didn't
completely do you in. It's quite beautiful flying through the Rockies
but they can be a little rough at times".
"Nice to be here," He
says, holding out his hand. "This is Nurse Nancy. She looks after me.
We've been looking forward to this trip. We've never been to Aspen
before. Thanks for inviting me. We'll have lots of fun." Fun! My God,
this could be a fiasco!!
"Nancy has some concerns about my playing
at this altitude at my age, but I'm sure that with a few days to get
acclimated before Sunday, I'll be fine." Nurse Nancy smiles.
This
is not at all what I expected. My heart sinks further when he adds fuel
to my fears, "You know I played a small exhibition in L.A. last week and
my elbow is still sore. Perhaps you could provide me with the name of a
good doctor where I could get a cortisone shot."
"Of course,
Bobby." So this was to be my "Great Event" to open the Club. My stomach
churned. How could a man fall into such disrepair in such a short time?
It was only a couple of years since he was at the top of his senior
tennis game against Billie Jean.
My, oh, my! This is how the Third Battle of the Sexes began.
Aspen
Airport is about four miles north of town and as we drive through Aspen
I try to displace my concerns by giving Bobby and Nurse Nancy a little
history lesson.
"Aspen was an old silver mining town in the 1800's
and many of the buildings are the original buildings, but they have
been meticulously restored to their charming Victorian state. I've
accommodations for you in our best condo at the Tennis Club, overlooking
the Roaring Fork River. But we will be dining each evening with some of
the most influential people here, to kind of build the excitement for
Sunday's match." Bobby doesn't look too happy about this. I babble on,
"That's the old Wheeler Opera House...the Hotel Jerome...the Red
Onion...the Ute City Bank...It's not really a bank, but a fine
restaurant...This town has only 3,000 permanent residences now, but in
the 1880's it was a great deal grander. It was wild miners and
honkytonks. We're going to hit several of these spots, a different one
each evening, with a different group, if you are up to it." I wasn't
sure he was up to anything, but I didn't want to give him an out so I
plowed on, "Everyone in town can't wait to meet you. The First National
Bank is co-sponsoring the event and has folks coming in from all over
the state to watch the match. Many are already here so the town is
buzzing.
Just then we pass under one the street banners used to
promote the event: 'Bobby Riggs vs. Sally Huss, Sunday July 31st in a
Battle of the Sexes'. "Nice touch, Marv," says Bobby, smiling graciously
as he rubbed his elbow. I could see he was checking it all out. Nurse
Nancy sat in the backseat, here to give any support he needed, I
suppose.
"The Tennis Club is on the south side of town leading up
to Independence Pass and the Continental Divide at 12,000 feet," I'd say
anything to keep my mind off of my troubles.
Several turns later
we entered the leichenstone gates of the new Tennis Club with our
beautiful logo in bronze announcing its name above an aspen leaf, all
embedded in wood. Trees to the right. Mirror Lake to the left and the
Roaring Fork behind.
"Here we are. A three bedroom luxury unit
that's never been slept in yet. It looks out to the Club across the
river and has a nice spa and sauna in the master bath. I'd like to pick
you up around 6 to join our mayor and the event planners for cocktails
and dinner at the famed Crystal Palace. It's a landmark and the best
Aspen has to offer. Everyone is dying to meet you."
"Marv, if I
could beg off on this first night. I would really appreciate it. I could
really use the rest." Nurse Nancy nods in agreement.
I felt at
this point the match on Sunday was a wash and any mileage I could get
out of our investment would have to be had before the event. I didn't
want to tax the guy, but I had people lined up. "I really hate to ask
you to do this, Bobby, but even if you could just make a brief
appearance with this group it would get things off to a good start.
They're our key supporters. I'll get you back as soon as I can."
"OK,
but I may not last long. I really feel pretty weak. By the way, here's
an envelope. I would like you to handle this. It's a few dollars that I
would like to bet on the side. Even money, if any one thinks Sally can
beat me."
I hated to take the man's money. It was obvious he was
struggling to just make an appearance, let alone win a tennis match. I
was totally confused. Now I've become a bookie!
"One more thing,
Marv, could you find me a warm-up partner to hit with around 9? I really
need to see how this altitude is going to affect me, and see how my arm
feels. Don't forget the doctor. Don't worry by Sunday, I'll be fine!"
Don't worry?! That's all I could do.
Andy
Stern's law office was housed on the second floor of a beautiful old
restored Victorian building overlooking Main Street. Bookcases full of
law books and dark leather furniture filled the space. A Tiffany lamp or
two added to the casual elegance. Andy, a very dapper Jerry Seinfeld
type in his mid-thirties and son of a former Czechoslovakian Davis Cup
player was a fine player himself and was eager for our project to
succeed. He has been instrumental in the whole development of The Tennis
Club, wrangling through city council agendas and legal matters of all
shapes and sizes. He was a bright star in Aspen and I had turned to him
whenever darkness crossed our path. Today I needed some light.
I
slide into the leather couch in front of his desk and let out a deep
sigh, "Well, I picked him up and dropped him at the Club condo. Frankly,
I'm very concerned that he is going to be able to perform for us. He
looks overweight, out of shape and sickly. He can hardly breathe at this
altitude or hold a tennis racket because of a sore elbow. He needs
rest, a cortisone shot and a bookie! He gave me this envelope of money
to cover any side bets if anyone thinks Sally can actually beat him. I
don't quite know what to do about all of it. I can't be his bookie,
too!"
"Marv, relax, give me the envelope, I'll take care of it. Let's see what's in it."
Andy
slices open the envelope and lets the contents spill across his desk.
He shakes his head in disbelief. One hundred hundred dollar bills,
$10,000 in all. Then he smiles and so do I.
"Marv, this is
remarkable. This 58 year-old man coming up here in this altitude,
thinking he can beat Sally! Who did she play in the last couple of
weeks? Yeah, every male pro in town and she beat them all. With her
heavy groundstrokes and big serve, he doesn't have a chance. What is
she, a couple of years older than Billie Jean? But she's in great shape.
She'll be a big hero. Some of our locals will enjoy taking his money.
Let me handle this. He'll get his $3,500 appearance money, plus a chance
at the carrot of $1,000 prize money. What a dea!"
It is a small
price to pay, if he is presentable. It's the "if" that makes me
uncomfortable. "Andy, he's asked me to get him a hitting partner each
day to get used to the altitude. I think you should be the one. That way
we'll know exactly what to expect. We may have to get Sally to lighten
up on him on Sunday."
"Good idea." I feel a little better as I leave Andy's office.
Sally
is getting herself ready for the evening when I arrive at our
sod-roofed ranch house. I want to share my concerns, yet I don't want to
alarm her. She is fairly sensitive. "Hi, Honey. He's finally here. I
think you might actually have to carry him to make the match
interesting. He's in pretty bad shape physically. I'm a little worried
that he can play well enough to give the spectators their money's worth -
even if the event is free! Everybody in Colorado knows about this thing
and thousands are coming in for it."
"Don't worry, Honey," she says, smiling brightly. "It'll be fun!"
'Worry'
and 'fun', in my mind are mutually exclusive and I definitely cannot
rid myself of the 'worry'. So 'fun' is out of the question. I'm the one
who got this whole thing started, invested the money in bleachers and
advertising, and even talked my buddy at the bank into co-sponsoring the
event.
"He even tried to duck out of the first social event with the mayor tonight, but then agreed to make a brief appearance."
"It'll be fun," says Sally again. Sally was always into fun, but I didn't need a flop to open the Club.
The
Crystal Palace dates back to the silver mining heydays of Aspen. It is
one of the original two-story brick buildings that is a work of
restorative art inside. To honor its name it has large crystal
chandeliers bouncing light everywhere. There are Long, narrow dining
tables, a big stage for follies-type entertainment and great cuisine. We
have invited all the local dignitaries to be the first to meet the
great Bobby Riggs.
The Palace is jammed this night as it is every
night. Word spreads as we enter that the man is here. Everyone stands
and applauds. Bobby is charming, stops to chat or sign autographs as we
make our way to our reserved table. It is hard to believe that an
old-time tennis player could garner such admiration, but he created his
real fame in his moment of glory as he went down in flames to Billie
Jean King. He played the part of the likeable buffoon then. What kind of
a part is he playing now? I'm thinking, "Alright! This is a good
start!"
The phone rings in my office the next morning. My secretary Julie answers and indicates it is for me.
"Hey, Andy, how did the hit with Bobby go? What's the verdict?" My anxiety had still not subsided.
"Marv,
you were right. He could only hit for 20 minutes and had to sit down.
He's short of breath. He doesn't run very well and he was spraying the
ball everywhere. He couldn't even handle my pace. It was a real struggle
to keep a rally going. He apologized profusely and said his nurse was
going to take him to see the doctor to get some relief for his elbow. He
just wanted to take it easy the rest of the day. I agree with you that
we might have a problem with him making a decent showing. He's got to
get a whole lot better by Sunday. I'm hitting with him again tomorrow.
Let's see if he improves. He did say that he and Nancy will be at our
dinner tonight at the Ute City Bank. I'll see you there." That was it.
My fears were confirmed. The event might really be a disaster. So we had
to do the best we could with the people we were entertaining each
evening to make sure they liked us and liked what we were doing as far
as the Club was concerned.
The Ute City Bank still looks like the
old silver mining depository of yesteryear on the outside, but like the
Crystal Palace, the inside has been beautifully restored into a fine
restaurant, including a vault for a wine cellar. The streets outside are
full of tourists and many of them here for the big match. As we pull up
to the restaurant the crowd spots Bobby and they start shouting,
"Bobby! Bobby! Bobby!" and as he disembarks the van he is mobbed.
Everyone wants to talk to him, kid him about being a chauvinist pig,
find out why he lost to Billie Jean or how he was going to beat Sally.
Inside the restaurant, he receives the same attention, a standing
ovation, and some catcalls from the women in the room.
At the
table he is seated next to Sally. It is the first time they have met.
His eyes twinkle behind his glasses and his smile denotes a twinkle
within, "So you're my date for Sunday! I've heard a lot about you,
Sally, from your old coach at the L.A. Tennis Club, George Toley. And
too from Billie Jean. She said she was 15 when you won the U.S. and
Wimbledon Juniors. You were her idol. The number one Junior player in
the world, then a semi-finalist the next year at Wimbledon, barely
losing to the Brazilian Maria Bueno. Now, I hear you just beat the
number four player on the Slims Tour, Wendy Overton. Well done. Well
done. I'm very impressed, Sally. We should have a lot of fun!
Sally smiles sweetly, maintaining her poise. She was cautious in receiving his compliments.
The
mayor slides into the seat next to Bobby on the other side and they
engage in a conversation about golf. Andy and I sit opposite him and
watch the proceedings with great interest. Andy leans over to me and
whispers, "Marv, you'll be happy to know that 5 different supporters of
Sally have already covered half of Bobby's money. We should have it all
down by Friday. They see it as easy money. Gotta think they're right. If
I were a gambling man, I'd take a piece of it myself."
Bobby
leans forward and asks me, "Marv, Mayor Stevens here has asked if you
don't have anything for me Friday afternoon some of his friends would
like me to join them for nine holes of golf over at Snowmass. He says
the drives fly long at this altitude, 300 yards or more. This I'd like
to see. Might help me get acclimated a little faster too."
"Sure, Bobby, just don't hurt yourself. You're our main attraction."
"No
problem, Marv. One other thing I meant to mention to you last night. I
would be happy to put on a tennis doubles exhibition for you Saturday to
help build interest for Sunday. Maybe a couple of one-setters, with
anyone you want. You'd be my partner to even things out. Maybe to make
it interesting each player could put up $250. Winner-take-all. I'll
cover you. Could be fun. Everyone wants to say they took money off of
me. Might even fill the stands on Saturday, a bonus event. What do you
say?"
I was a decent enough player, but his chances of winning
with me as a partner against the better players in town had to be slim.
Why am I worried again? He has only been here two days and it could cost
him his appearance money and his own bankroll. I don't understand him.
But I loved the idea!
"I'm not sure what to think of this guy," I
tell Sally, as we return home. "For a semi-sick, worn-out old man, he
still certainly draws a crowd. Andy told me that it's his understanding
that the mayor's golf friends are 'high-rollers' from Vegas. That
doesn't make me feel too comfortable. Like flies to honey.
Regardless, the town is humming and our event is really ramping up. I'm very pumped about that part."
Sally
smiles a knowing smile, "Marv, don't underestimate him. I've known of
his hustles for years -- playing with a frying pan or an ashtray instead
of a racket. Playing left-handed. Tying a chair to his leg and when the
bet was on, he could still beat the guy. He's legendary for these
antics at the L.A. Tennis Club. No matter what his condition, he's still
a very fine tennis player. I'm going into this like he's a really tough
opponent and it's a really tough match. Don't get me involved with him
anymore than necessary until after the match, please.!"
Andy and I
usually meet for strudel and coffee every Friday. To get to Gretel's
you have to take the chair-lift up Ajax in the summer. During the winter
we would always go up on the first chair-lift of the day to the top and
ski down, breaking the new snow and stopping half-way at Gretel's
mountain chalet for some of her famous, tasty pastry. Here we would
recap the Tennis Club building progress for the week. That was the life
of a businessman in Aspen. Today was different.
"Well Andy, did
you hit with him again this morning? Has he recovered from his flight
and last night's activities? Is he hitting any better?"
"Marv, I
would say that he's a little more acclimated. He's hitting the ball a
little stronger, but way below anything that will give Sally a real
match. But I think he'll look good enough for the crowd. He's still not
able to handle my pace, but he'll be able to go two sets, definitely not
three." I feel a sense of relief. Then he continues, "Right as we were
finishing our warm-up, the mayor and his Vegas friends showed up. They
took him over to Snowmass for some golf. Looks like 'fresh meat' for the
sharks to me. Obviously he's feeling better. He didn't beg off. By the
way I've got some good news. Tom from the bank reports that we are going
to have a full house on Sunday. The branches throughout the state
report over 1,000 new savings accounts already. At $5000 each, that's
over $5,000,000. You can bet the bank's very happy and we have 2000
ticket holders on-the-way. Not bad. Not bad at all! They're coming from
Denver, Colorado Springs, even as far away as Fort Collins.
Congratulations, Marv. The event is already a huge success. Stop
worrying!"
I still just shake my head. Bad news! Good news! What's next?
Sally
and I lead Bobby and Nancy, through the jammed streets and into the
over-crowded restaurant. The Red Onion is another restored relic from
the 1800's. It is not as classy as the Crystal Palace, but a big
favorite among the locals. During the ski season you need to make a
reservation a season in advance or you can't even buy your way in during
your stay. Bobby seems in great spirits. Perhaps the action on the golf
course did him some good. I give Sally a squeeze and decide I'm finally
going to enjoy the evening. Bobby is his ever gracious self,
chit-chatting with everyone, shaking hands with the jocks and kissing
cheeks of the ladies. Nurse Nancy keeps her eye on him, not allowing him
to roam too far from her side. More than a nurse we could not say, but
she is far too pretty to only be handing out pills with her bedside
manner. Just like Nancy, the crowds love him.
Our guests tonight
are business owners from the hotels, restaurants, sporting good stores,
high-end jewelry and clothing boutiques. All of them were benefiting
immensely from Bobby's visit. I sit across from Bobby, but Sally chooses
to sit as far away as possible. As the fawning activity settles down, I
lean over to Bobby and ask, "How did the golfing go today?"
"Marv,
the two guys with the mayor were real hustlers. The mayor's a nice guy,
but where did those two come from? They were serious golfers and
serious gamblers."
Gad, I thought, more bad news, "What happened?"
"Well,
in just nine holes, I lost $1,500. I really didn't have a chance. Not
only was I not feeling great, but the ball at this altitude doesn't do
what I think it's going to do. Now, they've got me committed again
Saturday after our doubles exhibition. I've got to try and get my money
back. At this rate I may lose all of the money I'll win by beating beat
Sally. I'm not feeling too good right now. I would really like to cut
out early tonight and go back to the condo and rest up. I'm going to
need a miracle for tomorrow! Tell Andy that the doubles will be enough
warm-up for me, so I don't need him until Sunday about 10:00 a.m. OK?"
Copyright 2008 Marv Huss
