When finally in his third season and 58th PGA Tour tournament Juan “Chi Chi” Rodriguez broke through for his first victory, the achievement arrived with an emphatic sense of showmanship that personified who he was.
The 27-year-old who grew up in dire poverty in Puerto Rico, and who was only a few years removed from a $12,000 sponsorship deal from Laurence Rockefeller that got his career going, didn’t just win the 1963 Denver Open. No, sir. He issued his resounding arrival with rounds of 68-74-65-69 – 276 against a field that included Billy Casper, Dave Hill, Al Geiberger, and Bob Rosburg.
“Man, I’m uptown now,” said the wispy Rodriguez who played his entire career between 115 and 130 pounds.
Long before analytics measured clubhead speed and ball speed it was as clear as the ocean water off of his native land that this loveable Chi Chi character could hit with such immense power.
The secret, he promised after being handed the $5,300 first-place check, would be revealed in a book.
Alas, there never was a book, but fear not because Marisol González and Alina Mogollon-Volk appreciate a great story when they see it. Chronicling the fascinating and poignant life of this remarkable man who went from spreading fertilizer on a sugar farm as a 6-year-old to caddying for 30 cents a loop to PGA Tour glory to enshrinement in the World Golf Hall of Fame, González and Mogollon-Volk have made a touching film that golf fans and those with warm hearts will love.
“Remembering Big: Juan ‘Chi Chi’ Rodriguez Story” is an elegantly-done 82-minute documentary that will be debuted at the 41st Boston Film Festival from September 19-22.
It has been four years since the poignant interview that is at the center of this film was conducted with Chi Chi and his brother, Julio Vicente Rodriguez Vilá, at the golfer’s home in Florida. The opening scene of the documentary is preciously tender, also, because it includes one of the last looks we had at the golfer’s beautiful wife of 56 years. Iwalani, a native Hawaiian who met Chi Chi in Puerto Rico while touring with a Polynesian dance troupe, is on camera for a brief moment, though she wore a warm smile. Sadly, Iwalani passed in November of 2021.
Not quite three years later, on August 8, 2024, Chi Chi Rodriguez died at the age of 88 but by then all those involved in the filming of this lovely story – most especially Chi Chi – had agreed that the show must go on.
Why?
“As Latinas, we feel genuinely close to Rodriguez’ story,” said González and Mogollon-Volk, filmmakers who are based in the New York City area. “And (we) feel compelled to tell it at this moment where we need hope and inspiration.
“Chi Chi’s story is not white and black. He had an entire range of colors that he brought with him to the golf course where he felt an obligation to entertain the masses.”
To appreciate what is the essence of the Chi Chi Rodriguez story requires you first pay homage to the numbers that tell of his golf talent (he won eight times in 591 PGA Tour tournaments between 1960-1997, then added 22 more victories on the PGA Tour Champions).
To many golf purists who turn their noses up to resumes that don’t include double-digit victories and a few major championships, Chi Chi’s career might be considered pedestrian.
But to measure Chi Chi’s career strictly by his wins is to overlook what defines this icon. He possessed a layers-deep indomitable human spirit and overcame long odds just to get into golf, let alone make a wonderful career at it, and if you can’t appreciate the brilliance of his journey, then shame on you.
In contrast to so many of today’s PGA Tour standouts who are sadly spoiled and went from privileged junior golf to privileged college golf, Chi Chi was of a bygone era that we should never forget. For several decades players were products of hard-scrabble caddie barns and less than affluent backgrounds, plenty of them connected to military service in WWII, Korea, or Vietnam.
Tough upbringings for many of them, yet Chi Chi’s story of poverty made them all look like they grew up in the Hamptons.
“We were poor, but we were happy,” said Chi Chi, referring to growing up in a house on a sugar farm in Puerto Rico. Two brothers, three sisters, and three cousins lived in the house and Chi Chi’s father worked about 12 hours a day, seven days a week for a grand total of $18 per week.
When he discovered the joys of being a caddie, Chi Chi also got a chance to swing a guava tree branch and hit cans. You, me, and our closest 100 friends have never swung a guava tree branch so we’ll have to take Chi Chi’s word that it was heavy and helped him develop speed.
Juan Antonio Rodriguez Vilá, his birth name, was shortened to “Chi Chi” because he idolized the great Puerto Rican baseball player Chi Chi Flores and ran around ballfields proclaiming “I’m Chi Chi, I’m Chi Chi.”
And so he was, for the rest of his beautiful life.
Let’s just understand that the beauty didn’t come easily. The win in Denver in 1963 and the pair of triumphs the following season – the Lucky International and the Western Open where he shot 268 to beat Arnold Palmer by one – didn’t silence the critics or ingratiate Rodriguez to everyone.
A quote attributed to Chi Chi Rodriguez went as follows: "I never exaggerate. I always remember big." Hence the clever art work that accompanies publicity reports of the movie of his life.
Palmer, then the game’s brightest star, didn’t exactly offer the warmest of endorsements to Dan Jenkins for a 1964 Sports Illustrated story. “Personally, I like him,” said The King. “But I think a little of his clowning around goes a long way.”
In another article, Jack Nicklaus said he didn’t think the 5-foot-7 Rodriguez could keep pace with the best of the PGA Tour. “He’s just not equipped physically for it.”
Early in his career when Rodriguez made a putt he approached the hole and dropped his hat over the cup. Then he did a little dance. Fans loved it, players not so much. But reporters covering the Western Open win over Palmer played it up. “He strutted and clowned and he had every reason to live it up,” wrote the AP reporter. “No one had ever assaulted Tam O’Shanter like the Puerto Rican from Rio Piedras.”
Reacting to opponents who felt the hat dance was a bit much and added too many spike marks around the cup, Rodriguez adopted what would become his signature – brandishing his putter like a sword after making a crucial putt.
“I am a matador. The hole is a bull. When the ball goes in the hole I’ve already slain the bull,” Chi Chi told Golf Digest. “So the sword fight with the putter isn’t necessary except to flaunt my skill. I wipe the blood from the sword with my handkerchief and return the sword to its scabbard.
“Then I go to the next hole and look for another bull.”
Given that Rodriguez had a rock-solid PGA Tour career and an even more prosperous PGA Tour Champions run, he seemed to always be on the hunt of “another bull.” And because he was, the chilly atmosphere thawed and even Nicklaus led a choir of admirers.
“You’ve certainly got to respect Chi Chi’s ability,” Nicklaus once told Jenkins. “I realize we need Chi Chi’s kind of color in the game.”
Years later, after a handful of visits to help raise charitable funds for the Chi Chi Rodriguez Youth Foundation in Pinellas County on Florida’s west coast, Nicklaus helped to spread the gospel about his former competitor.
“Chi Chi was just a wonderful all-around person,” said Nicklaus when news came of Rodriguez’ death a year ago. “He always cared more about the health and welfare of others, especially children.”
Dr. Bill Mallon, the Massachusetts native who played the Tour in the 1970s before going back to Duke Medical School (brilliant move because he went on to become one of the world’s foremost orthopedic surgeons) saw that side of Rodriguez years ago.
“One day we were both at the urinal,” laughed Mallon, “and it was my third year on Tour. The first two had been pretty good, but the next two not so good. (Standing side by side) Chi says, ‘Bill, you used to be good. Now, you’re not so good. What happened?’ ”
Mallon explained some of his golf woes and the emotional struggle he was having to see if he wanted to stay in golf or not. “Chi Chi listened, then said, ‘Bill, if you need anything, money or anything, you let me know.’ ”
Mallon never did ask for anything from Chi Chi Rodriguez, but he’ll never forget the offer.
“Chi Chi was just a good, good man. I really loved him,” said Mallon.
When they interviewed him, González and Mogollon-Volk came to realize that small as Rodriguez was, he was a bigger man than most of his colleagues because he had to break barriers and ignore scents of bigotry. What empowered Rodriguez was a love of people, especially children.
“Why do I love kids so much?” he once said. “Because I was never a kid myself. I had to work from the time I was 6 years old. I was always a man.”
“Chi Chi would say that it was people of all races and backgrounds who helped him in life and it was all ranges of people who were detractors,” said the filmmakers. “We couldn’t be prouder to bring this story to the masses.”
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For more information on the Boston Film Festival and to purchase tickets for “REMEMBERING BIG: Juan ‘Chi Chi’ Rodriguez Story” go to bostonfilmfestival.org
