By Scoop Malinowski | @TennisNow | Sunday, January 5, 2025
Photo credit: Scoop Malinowski
Less than a decade ago, the tennis world welcomed
the rise of Jannik Sinner as he soared to the pinnacle of the sport as World No. 1. But did you know that 86 years earlier, another fierce competitor, the legendary Don Budge, made history with an unforgettable achievement?
In a stunning 1938 season, this American tennis hero became the first player—male or female—to achieve the elusive calendar Grand Slam. His triumph as a local parks player in Oakland, California, not only marked a significant milestone in tennis but also gave birth to the term “Grand Slam” itself.
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For those who have wandered through the halls of the International Tennis Hall of Fame, you might have marveled at one of its most cherished pieces—a life-sized oil portrait of Don Budge, immortalized mid-swing.
This piece explores the creation of that remarkable painting by artist, instructor, and tennis coach James Gwynne, alongside the profound bond he developed with Budge.
A few years back, a lunch with my old friend Drew Murray revealed an astonishing connection to tennis history—that James Gwynne, our neighbor from the 1970s, painted the iconic Don Budge portrait that now graces the media room at the Hall of Fame.
The painting is truly a masterpiece.
Hall of Famer Don Budge executing his trademark backhand. Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
Captivated by the Budge painting, I snapped a photo during my reporting at the Hall of Fame Championships, which I later featured on my Don Budge Biofile article.
Yet, as I delved deeper into the story behind the painting, I uncovered the remarkable friendship that blossomed between Gwynne and the celebrated Grand Slam champion during Budge’s twilight years in Eastern Pennsylvania.
I expressed my desire to connect with Mr. Gwynne to gain insights about his unique friendship with J. Donald Budge, leading to an organized exchange of emails.
Although my childhood memories of Mr. Gwynne are hazy—having lived just two houses down on Vreeland Road—I do recall that he played an instrumental role in my early tennis experiences. Though I never saw his daughters, Jennifer and Jeannette, play, they were both dedicated to the sport.
James Gwynne graciously shared his remembrances of Don Budge with me before his passing on New Year’s Eve at the age of 89.
This is the story, told through the artist’s own words, detailing how he came to paint Don Budge’s portrait—and the deep bond they formed.
Artistic Reflections: James Gwynne’s Memories of Hall of Famer Don Budge
James Gwynne: Absolutely, Don Budge was a gutsy individual. One of my favorite anecdotes involves how he would respond when someone introduced themselves: “That’s your problem.” He had a knack for rubbing people the wrong way, but I appreciated him as he was—a towering figure in the world of tennis, deserving of every quirk in his personality. A bit of background: I picked up tennis after completing my PhD at the age of 30 and quickly fell in love with the sport. Despite my history of lacking success in athletics, I found my footing in tennis and even earned trophies that led to my role as an unlicensed teaching pro at Panther Valley.
After a few years, I moved to West Milford, parted from my daughters when they reached adulthood, and eventually built a home in East Stroudsburg. A memorable encounter happened when I met a player from Dingman’s Ferry who owned a private tennis court—on that day, the iconic Don Budge was present. Instantly, I recognized him, and within moments we were on the court playing doubles. When it was my turn to serve, I intentionally directed the ball to his famous backhand; sure enough, he sent it past me with a stunning winner. At that point, he was around 74 or 75 years old. Our connection deepened swiftly, leading my friend Marielaine and me to socialize regularly with him and his lovely wife, Loriel.
James Gwynne: During one of our gatherings, I asked Don if he had any portraits made of himself; he mentioned he had one that tragically burned in a fire. Without a second thought, I offered to paint a new one. He eagerly agreed but insisted it couldn’t be “small like the little statue of Fred Perry at Wimbledon.” Thus, I committed to creating a life-sized portrait. In my studio, I sourced black and white photographs from the internet, aiming for a composition that showcased only him—no spectators—capturing the moment he strikes his renowned backhand.
It took me about a month to finish the painting. Once it was complete, I invited Don and Loriel over for the grand reveal. I hung the painting in my living room, covering it with a sheet for dramatics. They sat on the couch, anticipation palpable in the air. When I finally unveiled the painting, the gasps of delight echoed, although Loriel noted, “His hair was much redder.” Back to the studio I went, and a week later, I presented the revised painting; they loved it, but Don suggested, “It’s too big, let’s donate it to the Hall of Fame.” I was thrilled and we embarked on a drive to Newport, where the painting was warmly welcomed by the Museum staff upon arrival.
The following day, I had the honor of presenting the painting to the Board of Trustees, which included legends like Stan Smith, Bud Collins, and Tony Trabert. Don introduced me as his doubles partner from Dingman’s Ferry, which sparked light-hearted laughter, while I nervously made a joke about colorful pants a la Bud Collins. After the gracious acceptance of the work, it was promptly hung in the museum. This gesture fortified the bond between Don and me; henceforth, he introduced me as the artist behind his portrait, easing any uncertainty people had about my presence alongside him.
James Gwynne: The year 1998 marked the 60th anniversary of Budge’s Grand Slam, and he received distinguished recognition at Wimbledon, where he sat in the Royal Box. He graciously invited Marielaine, Lee Miller, and myself to join him for the second week of the tournament. Alas, Don had been hospitalized the previous week due to an illness, and while he was still recovering and required a wheelchair, the perks were nothing short of fantastic. He secured us exceptional seats for matches throughout the finals, enjoying luxurious transportation each morning to and from our hotel.
We mingled with celebrities enjoying strawberries and cream, meeting tennis aficionados like Jack Nicholson and Chevy Chase. On one occasion, photographers requested Don pose with the Fred Perry statue; I assisted him there, though they initially wanted me to step back. I protested, saying, “But he might fall,” but they reassured me he’d be fine if he held onto the statue—indeed, he did, allowing for the perfect shot.
The highlights continued with an ornate Championship banquet, where players like Novotna and Sampras were present. A remarkable moment unfolded when Tracy Austin approached our table, asking me to capture a photograph of her with Budge, providing her address to send it over later.
James Gwynne: One of my most exhilarating experiences occurred on April 24, 1999. Adidas and the New York Yankees honored Don Budge with a special tribute during a game, and as he needed assistance walking, I wheeled him through Yankee Stadium’s corridors. We waited in the dugout alongside Coach Joe Torre and catcher Joe Girardi before that iconic moment arrived. On the field, I stood beside Don as the announcer shared his achievements, with Yankee pitcher “El Duque” presenting him with an autographed baseball. We then enjoyed the game from a special box, and I was filled with nostalgia as I soaked in every moment of this hallowed ground, echoing Lou Gehrig’s famous words about being “the luckiest man.”
Adding even more excitement, Budge recounted another time he was invited for a home run contest with sports stars, boasting he was the only participant to hit a home run!
James Gwynne: Another highlight was attending a Skylands baseball game with Don to meet his friend, Baseball Hall of Famer Bob Feller. We enjoyed the game from the box where Feller, in typical fashion, munched through several hot dogs. Feller was kind enough to sign two baseballs for me and my brother Jack, and I later gifted him a cartoon that he planned to showcase in his Iowa Museum.
Budge had a daily ritual of making a round trip to Milford, relishing his favorite breakfast, the “Don Budge Special” – bacon and eggs. But on that snowy morning, fate intervened when his Cadillac skidded off the road in a crash. Airlifted to a hospital, he spent his final days in Scranton; I visited but found him comatose, surrounded by Loriel and his sons.
The news of his passing shocked many; Bud Collins even reached out for updates. It was tragic yet preventable—a reflection of Budge’s fearless attitude towards life. At 85, he lived with an indomitable spirit.
In a heartfelt gesture, Loriel asked me to deliver his eulogy at the memorial service held in Milford. The presence of USTA staff made the day even more significant. Afterwards, they almost forgot his ashes as they departed, leaving “unknown” as his burial location, as noted on Wikipedia.
SM: Who were the players that Don Budge admired throughout the years, and which did he feel less favorably about? I recall Jack Kramer speaking quite highly of him.
James Gwynne: Budge was quite critical of many players, offering insights on Sampras—who he respected—yet mentioned he had an odd forehand elbow extension! Conversely, he held Vines in high esteem, declaring him the best, while also expressing admiration for his gentlemanly opponent, Baron Gottfried Von Cramm. I remember during a moment in 1998, he quipped that his mother could have beaten Ivanisevic, who would later fall to Sampras in an epic five-set final. I was one of the few lucky enough to play singles on the private court in Dingman’s Ferry, where Budge watched me. Despite my nerves, it was astonishing to play in his presence, even as he simply demonstrated his legendary backhand grip to my opponent, which transformed their game.
SM: Did Budge coach any players during his time? And what became of the astonishing collection of trophies he earned over the years?
James Gwynne: While he never specifically mentioned coaching, players always sought him out, eager for a chat or handshake. He truly was a deity in the realm of tennis. Regarding the trophies, I was asked to assist him in taking them down from various shelves—he had quite the collection. Ultimately, he transferred many to the Tennis Hall of Fame for around $50,000, which didn’t sit well with his sons.
SM: Did he often reminisce about his matches? What set apart Ellsworth Vines as the greatest in his eyes?
James Gwynne: He believed Vines possessed all the strokes required to defeat anyone, claiming the title of “King” before Budge’s own ascent. He often recounted matches—one in particular, where his opponent fainted after a grueling five-set battle. He was proud to share he bested Rod Laver in an exhibition after Laver had secured his first Grand Slam title. He fondly recalled that during his playing days, they took their training seriously, focusing on cardio and weight lifting while maintaining a diet of steak. He, however, could no longer indulge in steak by the time I knew him.
Interestingly, he didn’t drink until retirement; yet, he certainly made up for it post-career! He relished champagne, vodka tonics, and brandy, often leaving me scrambling to keep pace with him, as Loriel would advise me to curb his drinking—but I found myself caught in the balance, sometimes needing to help him to bed!
Don Budge (left) poses with his striking portrait, while artist James Gwynne (right) stands proudly beside it. Photo credit: International Tennis Hall of Fame & James Gwynne Estate
SM: It’s astonishing how a simple painting can evolve into such a meaningful friendship, brimming with extraordinary experiences.
James Gwynne: Some of my most cherished moments with Don Budge emerged while attending events at the Hall of Fame, particularly during the annual induction weekends. I introduced to many legends like Jimmy Connors, John McEnroe, and Martina Navratilova—all paying their respects to Budge while I humbly stood by as the artist of his portrait.
I’ll never forget a scene where McEnroe was on his knees playing with one of his children while chatting with Budge. Later, while enjoying drinks with John’s father and brother, I asked if John had always been so chatty. His father chuckled, saying, “Yes, he hasn’t stopped talking since birth.”
On another occasion, as we dined at our hotel, we were visited by the legendary Aussie trio—Rafter, Newcombe, and Roche, who stopped by our table to greet Budge. At the annual induction ceremonies, I shared a table with Budge, Bud Collins—who liked to call me “The Painter”—and other esteemed guests.
I remember once sitting beside Pancho Segura, eagerly asking why he parted ways with coaching Jimmy Connors. With a smirk, he replied, “Because that SOB wouldn’t pay me enough!” One particular highlight out in Boston, during a Davis Cup match, Budge required assistance navigating the stairs to our viewing box. Eventually, he grew frustrated with the relentless noise from the drums being played, prompting even more help as he chose to relocate to a more comfortable air-conditioned tent where tennis could be watched on television.
That evening, dinner featured a banquet attended by numerous former Wimbledon champions, all clad in their signature purple and green ties. I felt slightly out of place, yet relished the unique opportunity that unfolded before me, all thanks to my extraordinary tennis associate. Indeed, it was a memorable occurrence that few can ever experience—an incredible gift for an ordinary tennis enthusiast.
SM: Did Don have any notable rivalries, perhaps akin to McEnroe with Lendl and Connors or Pete with Andre? Did he harbor any grudges?
James Gwynne: I can’t recall Don ever expressing disdain toward any player. He once quipped that he had yet to meet an Aussie he didn’t like.
An amusing story comes to mind: while practicing one day, Fred Astaire appeared to watch and later complimented Budge on his gracefulness. They ended the day dancing on that very court!
SM: Even in his 70s and 80s, did you witness any semblance of Don’s competitive spirit?
James Gwynne: Not particularly, aside from his naturally spirited demeanor. He did mention that many players sought to play against him simply to say they had managed to win a set. He was at peace, knowing he had proven himself but still enjoyed participating in the sport.
