University of Virginia Library

INTRODUCTORY

P. T. BARNUM immortalised Lincoln's language by often quoting him with: "You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can't fool all of the people all of the time." P. T. was an able judge of the public, and it is just this inability to fool all of the people all of the time that accounts for the sudden disappearance from the public eye of some one who only fooled all of the people for a little while. That person was a sham, a bluff, a gamester. He, or she, as the case may be, had no personality.

Personality needs no disguise with which to fool the people. It is not hidden in a long-hair eccentric being. That type is merely one of those who are "born every minute," as the saying goes. Personality is a dynamic, compelling force. It is a positive thing that will not be obliterated.

Personality is a sexless thing. It transcends sex. Theodore Roosevelt was a compelling personality, and his force and ability were recognized by his friends and enemies alike while the public, the masses, adored him without knowing why. Sarah Bernhardt, Eleanor Dusé, and Mary Garden carry

with them a force far more potent in its appeal to the public than their mere feminine charm. They hold their public by personality. It is not trickery, but art, plus this intangible force.

The great figures in the tennis world that have held their public in their hands, all have been men of marked personality. Not all great tennis players have personality. Few of the many stars of the game can lay claim to it justly. The most powerful personality in the tennis world during my time is Norman E. Brookes, with his peculiar sphinx-like repression, mysterious, quiet, and ominous calm. Brookes repels many by his peculiar personality. He never was the popular hero that other men, notably M`Loughlin and Wilding, have been. Yet Brookes always held a gallery enthralled, not only by the sheer wizardry of his play, but by the power of his magnetic force.

Maurice E. M`Loughlin is the most remarkable example of a wonderful dynamic personality, literally carrying a public off its feet. America and England fell before the dazzling smile and vibrant force of the red-haired Californian. His whole game glittered in its radiance. His was a triumph of a popular hero.

Anthony F. Wilding, quiet, charming, and magnetic, carried his public away with him by his dynamic game. It was not the whirlwind flash of the Comet M`Loughlin that swept crowds off their feet, it was more the power of repression that compelled.

I know no other tennis players that sweep their public away with them to quite the same degree as these three men I have mentioned. R. L. Murray has much of M`Loughlin's fire, but not the spontaneity that won the hearts of the crowd. Tennis needs big personalities to give the public that glow of personal interest that helps to keep the game alive. A great personality is the property of the public. It is the price he must pay for his gift.

It is the personal equation, the star, who appeals to the public's imagination.

I do not think it is the star who keeps the game alive. It is that great class of players who play at clubs the world over, who can never rise above the dead level of mediocrity, the mass of tennis enthusiasts who play with dead racquets and old balls, and who attend all big events to witness the giants of the court, in short, "The Dubs" (with a capital D), who make tennis what it is, and to whom tennis owes its life, since they are its support and out from them have come our champions.

Champions are not born. They are made. They emerge from a long, hard school of defeat, dis-encouragement, and mediocrity, not because they are born tennis players, but because they are endowed with a force that transcends discouragement and cries "I will succeed."

There must be something that carries them up from the mass. It is that something which appeals in some form to the public. The public may like it, or they may dislike it, but they recognize it.

It may be personality, dogged determination, or sheer genius of tennis, for all three succeed; but be it what it may, it brings out a famous player. The quality that turns out a great player, individualizes his game so that it bears a mark peculiar to himself. I hope to be able to call to mind the outstanding qualities of some of the leading tennis players of the world.

Where to start, in a field so great, representing as it does America, the British Isles, Australia, France, Japan, South Africa, Rumania, Holland, and Greece, is not an easy task; but it is with a sense of pride and a knowledge that there is no game better fitted to end this section of my book, and no man more worthy to lead the great players of the world, that I turn to William M. Johnston, the champion of the United States of America, and my team-mate in the Davis Cup team of 1920.