The lure of caddying has been compared with running away to join the circus and the comparison is valid, given the attraction of trips to exotic locations for eager young minds. Yet one of the most interesting caddying assignments in the history of golf never extended beyond one course.

As it happened, the Burnham Wood stretch in the suburbs of Chicago was no more than a modest nine-hole establishment. But the fact that it was developed in the middle of the Roaring Twenties, provides a clue to the excitement generated there for a young Irish-American caddie by the name of Timothy Sullivan.

Opened in 1925, the course attracted such unlikely golfers as "Machine Gun" Jack McGurn, Fred "Killer" Burke and a certain Alphonse Capone, who would play as regularly as twice a week. Sullivan, who was an impressionable 12year-old when he started caddying for Capone, retained a vivid recollection of meeting him for the first time.

The occasion is recounted in the remarkable book, Capone by Laurence Bergreen, in which Sullivan is quoted as saying: "He (Capone) was wearing a white silk shirt with his monogram, no tie, grey plus fours and a belt with a diamond buckle, and he was surrounded by his gangsters." There was also a bodyguard known only as "Banjo Eyes".

We are told of an occasion when Capone and McGurn played a match against Burke and another gangster named Jack Guzik for a side-bet of $500 per hole. Sullivan described how Capone hooked his drive into trees, causing the unfortunate caddie to go down on all fours in a desperate scramble to find it, fearful that "Al would lose his temper and hit me or maybe shoot me, but all he did was grin, pat me on the head and call me Kid".

Then and there, Sullivan decided that Capone was a kindly soul, not at all like his reputation. But he was an extremely poor golfer. "I don't think he ever broke 60 for the nine holes," he said. "He could drive the ball half a mile, but he always hooked it. And he couldn't putt for beans."

In the event, it appears that Capone lost almost every hole and when all bets were counted, Sullivan reckoned that the gangster quartet exchanged about $10,000 during the game. And he was even more astonished at the end of it all to be handed a $20 tip by his "master".

Predictably, they constantly cheated on each other, as one might expect from gangsters. And tempers could be rather fragile, like when McGurn caught Burke moving the ball to a better lie using the well-tried leather mashie (his foot).

That particular brawl lasted half an hour. Then there was the occasion when the caddie happened to recommend a certain club to Guzik to extricate himself from a bunker.

Having failed at the third attempt, Guzik grabbed his driver and went haring after Sullivan, screaming vengeance with every conceivable four-letter word.

We're told that on the following day Capone became an even greater hero in Sullivan's young eyes when he publicly humiliated Guzik, demanding: "What do you mean treating the Kid here like that?" He then insisted that Guzik offer a tip by way of compensation and when a single-dollar bill was proffered, Capone snatched the wallet, took out $20 and handed it to Sullivan. He then threw the wallet at Guzik's feet in disgust.

Meanwhile, anxious to please his master and aware that in the gangster way betting existed only to be fixed, Sullivan began to cheat. So, carrying a few extra balls in his trouser pocket, he could drop one near where Capone's ball had disappeared. Not surprisingly, Capone caught on pretty quickly, patting him on the head and saying "You're okay, Kid".

On one occasion, however, "Banjo Eyes" caught Sullivan in the act and enraged he proceeded to call Capone a liar. Whereupon Al roared: "On your knees and start praying." With that, Capone drew a revolver out of his golf bag and pointed it at the bodyguard. Terrified at what he was witnessing, Sullivan promptly burst into tears and pleaded with his master to put the gun away.

Responding to the pleas of his young caddie, Capone suddenly softened; the incident was forgotten as quickly as it had started and the game continued as if nothing had happened. But on another occasion, the gangster had reason to regret his penchant for carrying a revolver.

It happened during a match against Johnny Patton, the so-called Boy Mayor of Chicago, who was actually the owner of Burnham Wood. While the match was in progress, Capone casually picked up his golf bag only to have the .45 revolver concealed therein, go off without warning. The Chicago Tribune reported that the bullet "narrowly missed the abdomen and then embedded itself in his left leg."

As a consequence, Capone registered in St Margaret's Hospital under the pseudonym of Geary and took a suite consisting of five rooms, one reserved for his use and the others for his round-the-clock bodyguards who were ready to take care of any unwelcome visitors. In the event, Capone was back on the golf course within a week. But Sullivan noted that from then on, "the boys double-checked to make sure the safety catch was on before they deposited any gun in a golf bag."

Almost inevitably, the youngster's association with gangsters and their privileged lifestyle made him eager to join their ranks. And after secretly watching an orgy one evening through one of the clubhouse windows, he reasoned that there could hardly be a better life than to mix sex, golf matches and general mayhem.

So came the announcement to his master that he wanted to become a member of the Capone gang when he was older. Whereupon the man himself gave a fatherly smile and tossed the Kid's hair saying: "You're part of it now, aren't you? You're my caddie." But Sullivan insisted: "I mean for real. And carry a gun like the other guys."

Recognising the seriousness of the lad's intent, Capone spoke to him directly. "Nothing doing, Kid," he said. "I want you around a long time, all in one piece. You might get hurt. Most guys in my line of business do."

Timothy Sullivan continued to remain a loyal employee of Capone's. Indeed, we are told of an occasion when the young Irish-American and his sister, Babe, joined Capone along with two bodyguards at a showing of Al Johnson's latest movie The Singing Fool. But he never joined the gang. And he lived to tell a remarkable golfing tale.