Pete McDaniel
Contributing Editor
African American Golfer’s Digest
Blog: December 2013
“The Amazing Charles Foster”
March 22, 1926- Dec. 1, 2013
Charles Foster’s hearty greeting never changed.
“Brother,’’ he would exalt with a most sincere display of all 32 of his pearly whites as he wrapped his strong biceps around my slender shoulders, muscles that belied his 70-plus years on every hard-pan driving range from East Lansing to East LA. His signature bear hug would have rendered most pups breathless if not for the Old Spice emanating from his always freshly shaved dome.
“How you been?’’ he would ask. “You look good.’’
I can still hear his distinctive laughter that seemed to make his entire body quiver with giddiness. Etched in my memory also are Charles’ exploits on the golf course—an arena he mastered from the 1960s until dementia forced him to put the clubs away for good a few years ago.
Charles was also a master showman who traveled the country entertaining the masses with his unique blend of trick-shot artistry, sleight-of-hand magic and caricature drawing. His rendering of me still hangs on the wall in my office. It was a gift after we had shared billing at a speaking engagement in Orlando, where I was living at the time.
He did it from a photo (necessitated because of our divergent schedules), a still shot of me when my hairline was in mid-recession leaving me no choice but to clean my plate, just like him. If you had 30 minutes to spare, though, he would sketch the caricature in one sitting and throw in a few card tricks to boot.
Charles was in a word “brilliant’’ that way.
Retired FBI agent Paul Shannon, a mutual friend, introduced us. Paul is a golf junkie and a Tiger Woods loyalist to the extreme. He was a frequent volunteer during Tiger’s clinics when a still-wet-behind-the-ears Tiger didn’t mind taking his game to the people. He helped set up more than 20 shows for Charles and counted the WWII veteran as one of his closest friends.
“Charles did up-close-and-personal magic tricks,’’ Shannon said. “You could see it and still not believe it. He loved to entertain. That was his passion as much as golf, I believe. He billed himself as “The Amazing Charles Foster’’ and he was certainly that.’’
One of Shannon’s favorite stories about his road buddy occurred as the result of a rained out tournament in south Florida where Charles was scheduled to perform. Apparently, the tournament organizer, in full improv mode, turned to Charles to entertain the golfers with his magic show. Of course, Charles obliged. But instead of his usual sleight of hand routine, he decided on full disclosure as to how the tricks worked.
“It was a riot,’’ said Shannon, “him disclosing the tricks of his trade, so to speak. However, it appeared there was a certain amount of skepticism as to whether Charles was really a skilled magician or just a bumbling one. So, near the end of the show Charles goes up to the front where he places a four-inch wide briefcase one of those tables with the curtain around the bottom.
“He starts pulling all these props out of it and discarding them; items that were obviously too big to fit in that briefcase. The audience is spellbound. Finally, Charles reaches down in that briefcase and pulls out a regulation-sized bowling ball, rolls it down the center aisle so as to prove its authenticity. He tells a man to roll it back to him, which he does. Then Charles takes the ball, puts it back in the briefcase, closes it shut and strolls out of the room, removing any doubt as to his skill.’’
The consummate professional who meticulously dressed the part, Charles never played for nearly the number of Benjamins during his short stints on the black golf tours as Tiger on the platinum PGA Tour. Nor did he play to the numbers of clinic-goers as Tiger. But he had no peer in his element among his fans—the wide-eyed boy and girl mystified by his ball striking and thrilled by the exploding golf balls.
He was also a big draw at retirement communities where audience participation brought laughter to a seasoned crowd, many of whom with very little to laugh about. His relevance crossed age, gender and racial lines.
A very private person, Charles rarely discussed his past or his accomplishments. According to his online bio, he studied commercial art at Meinsinger Art School in Detroit and was mentored by Jeff Hobson, one of the country’s leading professional magicians. After winning his share of amateur events in Michigan, he turned professional in the ‘70s. He also loved golf instruction and worked with many aspiring players having been influenced by some of the top player/teachers in the land, including his dear friend Moe Norman, Bert Yancy, Irv Schloss, Joe Norwood and legendary teaching pro Ben Davis at Rackham GC in Huntington Woods, Mich.
Charles was a legend in his own right, a pioneer who never sought self-aggrandizement. He might have been the first African American non-PGA Tour player to score an endorsement from a major golf club manufacturer when Lynx signed him to a deal in the 1970s. He was National Golf Clinic Representative for Lynx Golf, Inc. for 11 years. You might remember the other big-name player on the Lynx team—a fellow known as “Boom Boom’’ whose given name was Fred Couples.
Small in stature; humble to a fault, Charles Foster still stood tall in the history of African Americans in golf. When I told him I planned to include him in my book “Uneven Lies: The Heroic Story of African Americans in Golf,’’ he was so humbled he could barely speak.
He deserved to be included among those who contributed to our proud heritage in the game. He deserved to be remembered as much for the quality of the man as for the quantity of miles he put on that old Chrysler van he drove from coast-to-coast on his extended tour.
The last stop for Charles was a veteran’s hospital in Detroit. The man who could make a silver coin disappear before your very eyes couldn’t keep his mind from playing three card monte with his memory. He passed the morning of Dec. 2.
Charles was a gentleman and a golf scholar. He was a friend to many, including yours truly. But mostly, he was a friend to the game of golf. It will certainly be less entertaining without him.
A World War II veteran, Charles William Foster Sr. was born March 22, 1926 in Spartanburg, S.C. He died Dec. 1, 2013 in John D. Dingell VA Medical Center in Detroit after a lengthy battle with Alzheimer’s Disease. The father of 11 was 87 years old.
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Pete McDaniel is a veteran golf writer and best-selling author. His blogs and books are available at petemcdaniel.com
Comments on this topic may be emailed directly to Pete at: gdmcd@aol.com
