“Do you know whose house you just hit?”Don Cherry’s chuckling as he spits the words out. We’re standing on the 7th tee box at Las Vegas Country Club, Don’s home course - he and his wife, Francine, live but a sand wedge from the par-3 7th. A Las Vegas resident since 1967 and having lived at the Country Club since ‘72, he’s played this track more than 1,500 times - his estimate, and a conservative one at that - with playing partners that have often included some of the world’s biggest celebrities, from Dean Martin (a best friend for 11 years) to Joe Pesci (the two played here a few weeks back).

I’m guessing in all those rounds, Cherry’s never seen a slice like the one I just uncorked off the tee, a screamer that flew over one home and clanked off the one behind it. Not even Deano - about a 10 handicap - ever shanked one like that.

“No, whose house is it?”
“That guy who owns the MGM and The Mirage. What’s his name?”
“You don’t mean Kirk Kerkorian?”
“Yeah, that’s it!”
Cherry laughs again. I can’t help but do the same as I ponder the possibility that a billionaire might soon bill me for a broken window. You’d think seven holes into this round that I’d have learned a little something from one of the straightest hitters to ever carry a PGA Tour card. Even now, at 81, Cherry’s accuracy remains as impeccable as, well, his voice. Yes, his voice.

Indeed, as an early spring storm hovers overhead, Cherry breaks into song, belting out a few bars of Frank Loesser’s “Spring Will be a Little Late This Year.” The short acapella rendition is so good, it’s difficult to determine what’s in better shape, Cherry’s vocal chords or his golf game. It’s hardly a new debate. Don Cherry’s been pulling double duty as a singer and golfer his entire life, and nobody has managed to successfully navigate both endeavors the way he his.

“People have often said, ‘If you had just focused all your time and energy on one - golfing or singing - and given up the other, you could’ve been big.’ And they’re probably right. But I just could never do that. I’ve loved doing both too much.”

Judging by the photos that adorn the walls of his living room and the contents of his scrapbooks, it’s safe to say Cherry made the right call. There’s Don - a three-time Walker Cup player and champion - posing with one of his teammates at the time, a baby-faced Jack Nicklaus, and, in another black-and-white shot, singing into a microphone with Arnold Palmer. (Both are close friends and big fans of his music.) There’s Don shaking hands with President George H. W. Bush during their induction into the Texas Golf Hall of Fame (along with a personal note sent years later from the 41st president). There’s Don on the golf course with Willie Nelson (the two recently recorded an album together) ... and with good friend Mickey Mantle ... and with Shecky Greene ... and on and on.

“You can’t believe the people I’ve been able to meet and become friends with in my lifetime,” Cherry says in semi-astonishment. “It’s been unbelievable.”

Born in Wichita Falls, Texas, in 1924, Cherry was pushed into singing early on by his mother and immediately fell in love with it. His affinity for golf followed in his teenage years, and by the time World War II ended, he was singing with the Jan Garber Orchestra and racking up amateur golf titles (he won 14 titles in nine years). And “The Singing Golfer” was born.

When he wasn’t recording with such luminaries as Tommy Dorsey and Attic Shaw or making hit records such as “Thinking of You” and “Band of Gold” - which sold more than a million copies - he was swinging away at Augusta (he played in nine Masters as an amateur from 1952-61) and the U.S. Open (he competed in eight), and making friends with legends such as three-time Masters champ Jimmy Demeret, whom Cherry considered a father figure.

Cherry’s most impressive moment on the Links? That came during the 1960 U.S. Open at – appropriately - Cherry Hills. Playing with the likes of Palmer, Sam Snead, Ben Hogan and fellow amateur Nicklaus, he entered the final round tied for the lead. Coming down the stretch, he was within one shot with two holes to play, but he couldn’t get over the hump. Palmer held off Nicklaus to win the tournament - widely considered one of the most thrilling in golf history - while Cherry finished tied for seventh, four shots back. That accomplishment left him as the only man to ever have a top-10 record on the charts (“Band of Gold”) and a top-10 finish in the U.S. Open.

Cherry finally turned pro two years later, but his game never really took off because his singing career did, thanks in part to a fellow named Dean Martin. Cherry, who first performed in Las Vegas in 1952 when he opened for Peggy Lee at the Sands, was introduced to Martin in the late 1950s when both were playing the Sands. They struck up a conversation and became instant golfing partners and best friends, to the point that they were virtually inseparable for 11 years. Countless times, the duo would play Las Vegas Country Club by day, then head over to the Sands at night, where Dean would perform in the showroom and Don would croon in the lounge. They’d travel to other cities to perform together and also frequently appeared on Martin’s television variety show.

“We were so close,” Cherry recalls of Martin, “that if I mentioned how much I liked his shoes, he’d immediately send somebody to buy me a pair. Just a great guy.”
Cherry, who, according to Ed Sullivan, was one of Elvis Presley’s two favorite singers, continued to cut records throughout the 1960s and ‘70s, during which time he was a fixture in Las Vegas lounges, performing in such venues as the Sands, Desert Inn, Tropicana, Riviera, Sahara and Golden Nugget.

These days, Cherry still records new material and performs occasionally in other cities, but he rarely takes the stage in Las Vegas because, he says, “They just don’t have a place for someone like me anymore, I guess.”

And what of his other passion? Does he still hit the links regularly?
“Nah. I really don’t play much at all.”

Just as he says this, the 81 -year-old singing golfer grabs his driver from his bag, shuffles over to the tee box and smacks a shot about 180 yards, and it lands right in the center of the fairway. I shake my head in amazement. “You know,” he says, “I never had a lesson - singing or golf.”
Go figure.

-Matt Jacob