suggests the U. S. economy is an ocean of prosperity,
there still exist...islands of stagnation.
Where growth...is at a virtual standstill.
we'll be back with more news
Forty bucks?
Unbelievable.
Every Sunday night, once the dishes were cleared...
My father would referee a battle between his income, and his outgo.
Sixteen-thirty-four for the damn phone company?!
And from the looks of it...
The outgo packed some pretty fair punches.
Who the hell's been leaving the lights on?!
Spectators who knew the circuit laid low.
Highway robbery...
By the time the final blow had landed,
that old income would be reduced to such a measly balance...
That in our house we had a word for that negligible chunk of change.
Allowance!
There's the word.
"Allowance". / One...
The lifeblood of adolescence.
Two..
Three...
The fine line between expectation...
Four.
And reality.
Four bucks? Again?
Not to imply that we weren't grateful for Dad's largesse.
We just...weren't.
Come on, Dad, give me a break, here.
I gotta live, ya know, eh - gas, girls...
But when it came to taking pity on our financial lifestyles...
Dad was impervious.
Ya know what the problem with you boys is?
Uh-oh.
You don't understand the value of a dollar.
When I was you're age...
I had to walk to school! Thirty miles! Blizzards!
Outdoor plumbing!
Under a barrage of this magnitude... Resistance was futile.
Four beans?
Still, no sense looking a gift horse in the mouth.
Especially one the size of my father.
Here, Dad.
One...
Two..
No gettin' around it... / Thanks,
The buck stopped here.
By the fall of ninth-grade,
poverty was making paupers of us all.
Most of us, anyway.
Whoa! Check out Kovinsky!
Mark Kovinsky. The Howard Hughes of RFK.
He had more money than General Motors.
Naturally, we all admired him.
I hate him.
That jacket must have cost a fortune.
What I wouldn't give for that wardrobe.
On our allowances?
Forget it!
In macro-economic terms.
Five bucks a week just doesn't go as far as it used to.
Wait a minute.
Did he say -?
Five bucks a week?
Pretty disgusting, huh?
Yeah - I'll say.
Pretty soon....I'll have to dip into my savings account.
Paul was building an investment portfolio,
while I was living on cold beans.
Dad and I had business to conduct.
Right here, Right now.
Or, maybe it can wait.
Hi, honey. Why so late?
Ken Stein.
New fool in management.
He's bustin' my hump, Norma.
Aw, Jack...
He's workin' me like a dog.
What does he think I am - his own personal lackey?!
But hold on!
Maybe this wasn't gonna be so hard.
Dad?
Maybe Dad and I were thinking along the same line, here.
Maybe he'd be sympathetic to the plight of the down-trodden.
It-it's about my allowance.
You know...I was thinking...
I'm in ninth-grade, now...and, uh, well...
OK...Time for a clincher.
Something telling...something tactful.
Paul's father gives him five dollars a week.
Uh-oh!
I'd just broken the cardinal rule... Of child-parent negotiations.
Never compare them to their peers.
You want a raise in your allowance?
Fine.
But you're gonna have to do some more chores.
Chores? / Chores? I can do chores.
I work hard for my paycheck.
You can work hard for yours.
Hard work?
No problem!
"Working In The Coal Mine"
Nope - hard work never hurt anybody.
Hard work - good for the body.
Good for the soul.
It's what this country was founded on.
But beyond all the blood, sweat, and back-breaking labor...
There was a sense of satisfaction...
Let's see...
Accomplishment.
One...
Two...
Impending wealth.
Three.
Chints.
I can't believe it!
I technically rebuilt the whole house!
Well, how much did he pay you?
That's not the point!
The point is...the guy's bustin' my hump!
The point is that - / You're working for your dad, huh?
Great - Diamond Jim Kovinsky himself.
Kovinsky - what do you know about it?
Adolescence is filled with great moments of revelation.
This...was one of them.
Where'd you get that?
On the eighteenth green at the Whispering Grass golf course.
You make twenty bucks caddying?
Cash tip. Not bad for four hours in the fresh air.
You've got two choices, Arnold.
Be like your dad...
or be your own man.
Seeya.
I had only one question.
Dad? Can I be a caddy?
Hah?
Well, see...there's this guy at school...
What do you know about golf?
Seemed to me, he was missing the point, here.
Well, uh..maybe I-I could learn.
Caddy?
A wuss like you?
Shut up, Wayne.
Honey? Don't caddies have to carry around all those heavy bags?
Seemed like everyone was missing the point.
Look, Mark Kovinsky makes twenty bucks a round, OK?!
There - 'nuff said!
The old bottom-line.
Try sayin' no to that!
I don't think so...
What?!
Hello?
I couldn't believe it!
Jack? It's Ken.
Here I'd laid out a plan for total lifetime solvency...
And he turns me down?
Yeah, Ken?
No, no, don't worry about it - that's what I'm here for.
Whatever you say, Ken...
Yeah, yeah. Bye.
And that's when it hit me - Kovinsky was right.
I had two choices. Be like my dad...
Or...Be my own man.
Where do I sign up?
A free-agent. A man of wealth.
A caddy.
Behold - the working man.
Whatever you say, Ken.
Behold - the future millionaire.
Saturday...
You sure we need to work on...
OK, fine.
Where?
By the next weekend, this much was obvious.
My Dad and I were headed in opposite directions.
Fine! Yeah. Bye.
Wish me luck, Dad?
Not that I didn't want his blessings.
Don't fall in the lake.
But, if that's the way he wanted it... I could handle it.
I was my own man, now.
A man among...
Many more-experienced men.
Tanner! Meet your golfer at the first tee.
Go get 'em... /Still, I wasn't worried.
I was a dedicated professional.
Culver! You're up!
A highly trained specialist.
Holman!
Norklen! Fowler!
An obvious unemployable.
It was beginning to look like I was gonna lose money on the day.
Arnold!
What are you doing here?
Oh! I, uh...
I get it.
You're waiting for the big one, aren't ya?
Remember that twenty-dollar tip I told ya about?
Well...
That's the bag.
And suddenly, I knew.
That bag was destined for just one pair of shoulders.
Arnold!
Mine.
Yep! My fortune was made.
Thanks to patience, tenacity, and of course...
Ken Stein.
Looks like were together for eighteen.
Kevin.
Got a firm grip there, Kevin!
I like a man with a firm grip!
Let's see...Firm grip?
That'd probably be worth at least three-seventy-five right there!
Thank, Mr. Stein.
Call me Ken!
"Ken". It was a good name...
A golfer's name.
The name...
Son? We're gonna have a little working session.
You don't mind a little shop-talk, do you?
Of my father's boss.
Jack - come over here and meet young Kevin!
Kevin...
It was a critical juncture.
Jack...
But we handled it well.
Like total strangers.
Live, and let live.
Isn't he a little small... To be a caddy?
Make that - every man for himself.
Hey! I carry my weight.
That's the spirit I like to see...
Arnold? You want to do the honors?
So, the prelims were over. We were on our way.
Me, headin' for easy street...
My Dad...
Heading for the rough.
Tough way to start, Arnold.
You wouldn't mind if I kept score, would you?
Whatever you say, Ken.
Let's play golf!
Over the first few holes... It became apparent,
this wasn't my father's day.
I, on the other hand, was basking in the sunlight of future riches.
Nice shot, sir!
Ken...
Call me Ken.
Ken.
Yep! Twenty bucks a loop, four loops a week...
Carry the four...easy money.
Dag nab it!
For a guy who knew how to smooth out the rough spots.
You know, they don't clip these greens very well.
You're darn right.
Face it. When it came to dealing with employee-management problems,
I had a certain...flair.
Ah, nice...
I believe that puts us two ahead, Ken.
You know, I got my start as a caddy.
Really?
Yep. I felt kind of a kinship to this guy.
He reminded me of...me
- a real winner.
Damn!
In contrast to my previous role model.
In fact, by the time we reached the half-way point...
I was almost feeling sorry for the old man.
I figure you about seven strokes off the pace, Arnold.
Tell ya what - maybe I oughta play left-handed a few holes?
Whatever you say, Ken.
Ah, tell ya what...what say I buy us all some sodas, huh?
I'm alright.
You?
Sure!
That's the spirit.
A-ha...
Spirit, I had.
Plus a shoulder that was killing me.
How ya holding up?
What?
Big bag - must be heavy.
Well-well...
You don't have to kill yourself, ya know...
He can finish with another caddy.
Another caddy?!
So that was his game.
Hey, you don't have to worry about me, alright?!
Suit yourself...
And I would. I didn't need his help! / Here we go...
I had...upper-management.
Say, Jack...I've been thinking...
And then...Upper-management made one little mistake.
Maybe it's your clubs.
They're too old... Cheap, ya know?
Maybe if you put a little money in your bag...
You might...give us more of a match, huh?
And suddenly, all bets were off.
Well...
Let's just see what these old clubs can do.
Ouch!
Momma!
Goodbye!
Not bad there, Arnold!
Not bad? Not bad?!
Those old clubs had banged out some of the most beautiful shots
in the annals of golf.
And as Dad's game turned into gold...
Mr. Stein turned into...
Mr. Hyde.
Hell!
Ah..it-it was a-a difficult shot.
Look - when I want your advice... I'll ask for it.
Just...keep the clubs clean... will ya?
OK...
The funny thing is...the smaller my tip began to look, the heavier that bag got.
By the eighteenth fairway, I'd learned something interesting.
The Whispering Grass back nine measures exactly four-thousand miles...
Tee to green.
Caddy!
Let's hustle it up, huh?!
But I wasn't giving up.
I was gonna make that easy money or die trying.
Whichever came first.
Tough lie, Ken.
Still, there was no reason to panic.
It was the last hole.
And Dad was three strokes behind.
Make that - two.
Make that one.
And then...
It happened.
Damn it all!
But it was more than just a fifty- one-dollar, copper-faced...
Billy Casper All-Pro sand-wedge that disappeared into that lake.
Get it!
It was my dignity.
Pardon?
You heard me!
Bring...it...to me.
And suddenly, I felt very alone.
Well, son?
It was up to me. I didn't have to go fetch.
I coulda told this guy what I thought of him...right there, right then.
I...
But for some reason...at that moment...
I heard myself utter four words I'd heard somewhere before.
Whatever you say, Ken.
And so...after eighteen holes spent counting future riches...
it all came down to this.
You sink this one, and you beat me, Arnold.
Here I was, up to my knees in mud... while my work-a-day
Dad...Was about to carry off the prize.
It was the easiest putt... He'd had all day.
And he missed it by a good three feet.
But that wasn't all.
He missed the next one, too.
It's been a long, long day...
Sure.
And somehow, all of a sudden...
I understood why.
Ready?
Uh...yeah, ready...
That day...I began to realize something about this man...
I was trying so hard not to be like.
How ya holdin' up?
Well, I'm a little tired.
He understood the value of money.
And the cost of it.
Hey - it's too bad about that putt.
A putt's a putt.
Coulda made it, Dad!
Maybe.
I guess Dad knew he could lose a game,
and still not lose his manhood.
His pride didn't hinge on a stupid shot.
Or some shiny new clubs.
And I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted to use my money for.
Dad!
Can I buy you lunch?
Whatever you say, Kev.
It was the first time I ever really said thank you to the man...
For all he'd given me.