Tommy Naccarato and Noel Freeman gave me the sad news on Friday and I’ve been working through this loss all weekend. It’s a tough one.
Noel was my sponsor when I joined the YGC in 2007, and soon afterward I entered the orbit of the incomparable Dr. Childs. Tommy rightly points to Geoffrey’s advocacy for Yale and Split Rock (in the case of the latter, he was appalled at the graft and resource waste being poured into Ferry Point while Golden Age golf languished just a couple of miles up the road). Geoffrey was from the Bronx and when he got riled up about the way these golf courses were being treated his words could hit like a boxer pounding a heavy bag. But I have to say, golf architecture (and politics) were the only subjects where I ever saw that side of him. Most of the time he was a warm and gentle fellow—he loved talking about the Yankees, or his favorite Arthur Avenue salumerias, or hikes he and Jane (who he truly adored) would go on in the Hudson Valley. He had a fancy straight razor that he tried to sell me on once or twice--maybe because I’m a fellow bald guy! He did meaningful scientific work with Einstein. He was a thoroughly well-rounded person with intelligent perspective on just about anything you’d care to discuss.
I know I’m not alone on this site in having more than a few Dr. Childs golf stories. In the ‘00s, most of my golf with Geoffrey also involved Noel, and those two had a special bond. Playing golf with the two of them was like playing with a couple who have been married for 40 years. Their banter was impossibly dry and hilarious, and Geoffrey always knew the exact moment when Noel’s scorecard was about to go up in flames. After Noel moved to California Geoffrey and I didn’t play as much golf together at Yale—he was also dealing with various injuries and illnesses off and on—but we’d still see each other several times a year at various courses in NY.
One of my favorite Dr. Childs stories… Maybe six or seven years ago he and I went down to tee it up at Split Rock. It was perhaps the first warm, sunny spring morning we’d seen that year, and when we showed up Pelham-Split Rock was absolutely jammed. We pay our green fees, get paired up with another twosome, and then mill around the practice green for the better part of an hour. Our place in the queue was totally uncertain—this is not a high temple of organizational efficiency—but it felt like we might wait all day to get out. Eventually I got impatient and said, “Geoff, this is ridiculous. We need to get out of here. Let’s call Neil [Regan]. Maybe he’ll join us at Mohansic or Saxon.”
Dr. Childs agreed and I call Neil on speaker. He answers and we can immediately hear highway noise in the background. Before we can say much of anything, he says, “Hey! I just got on 684. I’m going down to Winged Foot…want to come out?” Geoffrey’s face lit up with the biggest smile. We grabbed our golf bags and started to leave. One of the guys we were (eventually) going to be paired with says to Geoffrey, “Hey, what’s goin’ on? You taking off?”
And Dr. Childs casually replies, “Yeah, we’re just going to head over to Winged Foot instead.” I didn’t see the guy’s reaction, but Geoff started cracking up as soon as we got to the parking lot. He was so delighted by the Cinderella turn of events. I’m pretty sure that this was also the day that he informed me of a serious health issue he was experiencing, but he was a scientist and (to me at least) was always optimistic about the future. He also knew that if his health kept him off the golf course, he had so many other outlets to enjoy life. I admired that about him.
Anyway, I remember he retold that Split Rock story after Neil passed away, and now that they’re both gone, I guess it’s just my little tale. One of many…
Geoffrey Childs was a mensch, a warm-hearted and caring friend to me for almost 20 years. I will miss him very much, and I send my sincere condolences to his friends and family.