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No red-blooded golfer's education is complete until he has played Old St. Andrew's with its crumbling fairways, hidden hazzards, gigantic greens, sharp burrows, and twisting contours. The weather is raw and the winds treacherous. It's said one can buck the wind all the way to the ninth hole, and then turn around and face it all the way back. The hallowed grounds of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrew's provide a fitting subject for LeRoy Neiman's latest serigraph. The artist's sweeping treatment provides a grand view of both the 18th green and the first tee, the venerable clubhouse, and the North Sea, all under the scowling Scottish sky. The devilish course is named for the first disciple to follow Christ, and has remained essentially unchanged since its founding in 1754. Neiman has depicted the clubhouse, built in 1840, in the brilliant afterglow of an August evening. The sun sets late this far North, and its fading rays have painted the clubhouse in rich warm shades of pink, orange, and yellow which contrast cleanly with the cool, soothing greens below. Golfers, caddies and spectators share the scene with a handful of wayward crows. Just in front of the clubhouse stand three Scottish guards, resplendent in their kilts, plaids, and tall, feathery, black headpieces know as busbys.
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