It was a seemingly mundane question, but when Sidney Frank was involved, there was always a sense of urgency.
"What is your first available tee time?" Jeff Fujimoto, a professional golfer and a member of the liquor mogul’s team, asked the young man behind the counter at The Grove on London's west side. It was the fall of 2005.
The first available tee time for the following day was 10:10, but that wasn’t going to cut it. That’s because Frank and his team of hired golfers waited on no one. "Can we get out before the day's first tee time?" Fujimoto, who goes by Fuj, asked. Before the young man could reply, Fuj reached into the tattered black carry-on bag that Frank's entourage always had at hand for situations such as this. “My boss would like to take care of you,” Fuj said.
In the bag, among news articles about Frank's sale of Grey Goose Vodka, the Playboy with the Jagerette as the centerfold, the extra clothes for Frank and the defibrillator, was a wad of cash. A lot of cash. Fuj handed the young man $2,000 in crisp bills.
The stunned young assistant said he needed to run things by Spencer, his boss. Fuj stopped the assistant before he walked away. "Please tell Spencer that Mr. Frank would like to take care of him, too," said Fuji, who pulled another $2,000 from the bag.
Spencer emerged and greeted Fuj. "We have the 7:40 and 7:50 tee times available," Spencer said. Like that, Frank's group had secured the first two times.
With the tee times secured, Fuj approached the young men working outside services, a job he knew all too well. A few years earlier, Fuj had worked a similar job at a club in his home state of Colorado. After a solid junior career, Fuj spent a year at Scottsdale (Ariz.) Community College before returning to his home state and playing three seasons at Colorado State. There he amassed eight career top-10 finishes and still ranks first in winning percentage in program history.
After struggling in pro golf for a while, Fujimoto lost his desire to play professionally as Frank increasingly relied on him. (The compensation wasn’t bad, either.) The highly motivated and organized Fujimoto quickly became Frank's go-to guy.
He told outside services employees that a bulletproof limo would pull up in the morning and to have a cart waiting at the passenger door. Fuj would get out and spread a blanket on the seat, Frank would sit down, and they would head to the first tee. Then Fuj handed each employee $500. The young men accepted the biggest tip of their lives, and Fuj needed no assurances the cart would be at the ready. Everything was a tightly choreographed dance.
That’s the way it was if you were lucky enough to run in Sydney Frank’s circle. On almost every day over a six-year period, Frank created his fantasy world centered around golf. Golf on world-class courses in New York and California and abroad, multi-million dollar vacations, private chefs, extravagant purchases, and rubbing shoulders with world leaders and celebrities were just some of the things the Frank team experienced. Now for the first time since Frank’s death in 2006, the golfers who lived inside this world are sharing their stories.
Luke Bakke wasn't initially chosen for the trip to London, as he had just returned from playing in the U.S. Amateur. Bakke planned to take advantage of a precious few days off, so he flew from New York (where the team lived half the year) to see his girlfriend in Seattle. The visit would be short-lived.
Bakke's phone rang around 2 a.m. on his second night in Seattle. It was Fuj. "You need to get to London by tomorrow morning," he told Bakke. Fuj would inform him later that Ben Hayes had been sent home and Bakke was his replacement. Hayes had committed the mortal sin of telling Frank the final score of his beloved Yankees’ game before Frank had a chance to watch the replay.
A spot on the team was precarious. Revealing the Yankees’ score – or in Jonathan Dudley's case, getting a haircut Frank didn't like – might mean the end of the trip, or the end of your time on the team. Before this trip, Dudley had a cyst removed from his head, and while in London, he shaved his head. It was a costly decision. Fuj delivered the bad news. "I think it's best if you go back to New York and work on your game," he said.
Bakke immediately started packing while explaining to his future wife why he had to go. “I wasn't going to lose that job," he says. Bakke, then 24, like the other golfers, was making six figures for playing the game he loved. A lean 6-feet, Bakke had finished a solid career at Arkansas Little Rock and planned to embark on a pro career when Fuj brought him on board. Bakke had been part of the team long enough to know that plans changed as quickly as Frank’s mood, but explaining that to someone was hard to put into words. A few hours later, Bakke boarded his flight to Heathrow Airport.
Bakke landed early in the morning and was met by a car service that was tasked with rushing him to The Grove. Bakke was quickly escorted into the waiting SUV and the driver sped away. This was extraordinary even for Bakke, who had become used to the unusual in his time on the team. His middle-class upbringing in Arkansas hadn’t prepared him for this.
Meanwhile, at the Cadogan, a five-star hotel Frank had reserved, the rest of the entourage was getting ready to load into cars. Frank always rode in the bulletproof limo. It’s not that Frank was in danger and feared for his life. It’s just the way he rolled. “He basically didn’t want to wait at red lights,” Fuj says. Adds Bakke, “He did it because he could.”
"There were three cars: two bomb-proof Mercedes-Benzes and the bulletproof limo,” says Bakke. “The goal of the Benzes is to make sure the limo always has an out – a field, another road. These guys are wearing black suits and ear pieces." It was all unnecessary and over the top, but that was standard for Frank and his entourage.
Fuj climbed in the back of the limo and handed Frank the first of many throat lozenges to help offset his chain-smoking of Davidoff cigars. The cigars were wrapped with Frank’s personal logo and cost almost $40,000 a box. The six-foot high humidor that kept the cigars fresh was wheeled onto his private plane before each trip, even if it meant other luggage had to be offloaded.
When the limo rolled into the parking lot, the outside services employees had the cart in position. Frank casually greeted Bakke on the 1st tee, oblivious to the logistical tight-rope act that had been pulled off to get Bakke there.
