In the world of Wall Street, Jimmy Dunne is a master of the universe, having enjoyed a successful career in that highly competitive and demanding business, most notably as one of the principals of the New York-based investment banking firm Piper Sandler.
A gregarious, high-energy soul who stands 5 feet, 8 inches tall, smokes Maduro cigars and guzzles unsweetened iced tea, James J. Dunne III, 65, holds just as elevated a position in golf. He belongs to some of the finest clubs in the world, among them Augusta National, Pine Valley and Seminole, where he also serves as its president. In that position, Dunne pays close attention to the club’s esteemed caddie program and works hard to ensure that it not only welcomes young men and women into its ranks but also helps them become first-rate loopers.
As is the case with many members at Augusta National, Dunne serves as a volunteer during the Masters. Not surprisingly given his affection for and connection with caddies, his annual assignment has him working the tournament practice facility, which also happens to be where the men and women who carry for the competitors hang out, in a rather splendid “caddie shack.”
The man can play, too, and in addition to winning championships at several of his clubs, he shares the course record at Shinnecock Hills with a 63. In 2018, Dunne qualified for the U.S. Senior Amateur.
His has been a life very well led, on and off the golf course. And when you ask the father of two sons (both of whom caddied as youngsters) and a daughter the secret to his success, he quickly cites caddying as being one of the keys. Following is his story, as told to Global Golf Post’s John Steinbreder, on how he got into that line of work as a young boy, what it was like and the many ways it helped him in later life:
It all started with my father articulating what he believed to be three critically important things in life. The first was to get my education at the best college I could get into. Second was to marry the right woman. And third was to get good enough at golf so as not to be scared to death when I stepped onto the first tee.
My father sold Arrow shirts. He liked to play golf but was not very good. And he wished he was, because he believed that being a good golfer was a way to get ahead in business.
He also liked the idea of caddying, for the way it introduced young people to the game while also providing a way to make money in the summer and do so in the outdoors. It was also a way to get stronger, stay fit and to meet people.
I was a South Shore, Long Island, boy and grew up in the town of Babylon. I was 11 years old when I started caddying at Southward Ho Country Club in Bay Shore, about 20 minutes from my home. But I told the caddie manager I was 14. My father had become a house member there and aspired to be a golf member. And I just wanted to work.
... the game is an incredible laboratory in human behavior, and everything you need to know about a person you will find out in an 18-hole round.
The caddie yards had a variety of characters. College kids who were good golfers. Older guys, too, some of whom were down on their luck. Other younger kids, like me, trying to find their way. There was a whole ecosystem with different social and economic subsets. And it was, for the most part, blue collar, with the better golfers and better caddies getting the best loops and the most money. Some golfers paid $5, and others $6 or maybe even $7. The most you could hope for was $10, and that was how we identified the members most times, by how much they paid, as in, “He’s a $5 bag.”
I went there with humility. I wanted everyone to like me and to be perceived as an up-and-comer. I knew a little about the game when I began, having played with my father at some of the local public courses. That helped me assimilate more easily in the caddie yard. I also learned to keep my eyes open and my mouth shut.
One day, I caddied with another guy for two doctors. And they paid us each $5. Neither of us was happy about that, and the other caddie, who was tougher and more senior than me, let it be known to the rest of the caddies how unhappy he was about that. My instinct was to shut up. I did not want anyone to know I had been paid only $5 because they would then think I was not worth a damn as a caddie. When one of the older guys learned what had happened and how I had handled it, he came up to me and said, “Kid, you were 100 percent right.”
Things changed for me in the caddie yard after that. I got some recognition. I got some respect.
Caddies could play on Mondays, and by the time I was 14 or 15 years old, my father had joined the club. I started to become a better golfer, and that elevated who I played with on Mondays, which were also money games. I started playing with one of the Black caddies, whose name was LeRoy Brown. And when he took me on as his partner, I became something of a made man.
I remember LeRoy and I winning a few times together. And after one of those games, he yelled over to me as I walked across the parking lot, “Kid, nice playing today.” It is still as gratifying a compliment as I have ever received.
I started playing gin rummy with the older caddies as well, and one time, after I had won a hand, one of the players looked over at me and then said to the other players, “You know what LeRoy says about the kid, he doesn’t play scared, and he doesn’t choke, in cards or in golf.”
That was one of the many things golf – and caddying – gave me. Confidence. Affirmation. It also afforded me the opportunity to meet a lot of people, in the yard, to be sure, and on the golf course when I caddied. One of those guys was J.M. Haggar, of Haggar slacks. He did not have a formal education but contributed to Notre Dame, and he helped me get into the university.
Playing golf is a kind of language. There are certain ways of acting, of doing things. It exposes you to people and places and gives you opportunities that would not exist if not for golf. In addition, the game is an incredible laboratory in human behavior, and everything you need to know about a person you will find out in an 18-hole round.
Golf also enables you to establish relationships. And in all businesses, in all aspects of life, relationships are key.
One of the most important relationships in my life came out of the caddie yard, for Southward Ho was where I met Chris Quackenbush. We caddied together, and we painted houses, too. He was a very smart, very nice guy, and I remember him talking to me about college when I started looking at schools. The dream was Notre Dame, but I started thinking of doing something different and going to Rollins College to play golf. Quack, however, thought that was a terrible idea. He said I would be a really good 75-shooter for a long time. But that was about it. I’d never win any money. I’d never win any big tournaments. So, what I needed to do was forget about Rollins, buy a good winter coat and get myself to Notre Dame. Which is exactly what I did. Years later, in 1988, we became partners at Sandler O’Neill (known today as Piper Sandler).
(Both men were still at that firm on 9/11. Dunne was playing in a qualifying round for the U.S. Mid-Amateur that morning, while Quackenbush was working in the Sandler O’Neill offices on the 104th floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center when the terrorists attacked. All told, 66 of the company’s 171 partners and employees died that day, including Quack.)
Looking back, I believe caddying was one of the most important jobs I ever had. And I caddied through college and until I started working on Wall Street. Caddying helped lead me to Notre Dame, and while it had nothing to do with my marrying the right woman, it certainly made me comfortable standing on the first tee wherever I played.
It turned out my father was right about all that, and I tried to teach the same lessons to my kids.
Top: Seminole president Jimmy Dunne poses with caddies at the Juno Beach, Florida, club.