It’s Masters Week so I am of a golf mindset. I have a love/hate
relationship with the sport, quitting on several occasions only to pick it back
up again. It’s like the mafia.
I was exposed to the game at an early age. My grandma and her husband
Don golfed daily during retirement. One weekend my older sister and I stayed
with them while our parents were away and on Saturday morning we headed out to
Skyview Golf Course in Alliance, Nebraska. We stopped into the pro shop before
our round and Don bought us a set of Wilson junior clubs. Those clubs became
mine solely when I connected with my sister’s forehead during my back swing. At
that moment she quit golf entirely and I got pissed at her for messing up my
shot. My summers were usually occupied with baseball, but from time to time I
would take those clubs and hit the local links.
The Hemingford Municipal Golf Course, sometimes referred to as
Hemingford Country Club, is nestled on the northern edge of town, with train
tracks lining the left fairways of the third and fourth holes and grain
elevators towering over the first and ninth. Like Pirate’s Cove or Grizzly
Gulch, it was a golf course in name but it shared few similarities with Augusta
National or even The Sand Hills a couple of hours away.
HCC didn’t have a pro or a pro shop. It didn’t even have a full-time
employee. There was a box at the first tee with envelopes and a sign that read,
“Nine Holes $2; All Day $5.” For the most part, the green fees didn’t apply to
those 12 and under, at least depending on who was watching.
Right behind the first hole sat the clubhouse; a little white building
that at one time was a one-room schoolhouse. It was only open during
tournaments. There were no concessions, just a Pepsi machine outside of the
clubhouse that we would shake at night to see if we could get a Mountain Dew to
drop.
A Quonset building along the ninth hole served as the cart shed. There
were probably as many three-wheelers in that shed as there were golf carts just
as there were as many overalls and boots on the course as there were polo
shirts and spikes.
The first and ninth holes, those most visible from the street, were
actually beautiful. The fairways were green and manicured (we often sneaked on
the course to play football), the trees were pruned and the boxes surrounding
the clubhouse were full of bright petunias. The former owner of the hardware
store, Lamar Johnson, was a master gardener and volunteered much of his time in
retirement as the greens keeper. Since the course didn’t feature an underground
sprinkler system, other volunteers drug irrigation pipe around the course,
ensuring there were a few green patches on each hole.
So how does a course maintain greens without water? You don’t. HCC was
one of the few remaining sand green golf courses in the United States. Sand
alone wouldn’t last long in the western Nebraska winds, so oil was mixed to
help weigh it down and to provide a faster putting surface. It also made the
course smell like asphalt on a hot summer day.
The rules on a sand green course are relatively the same, but the
strategy is different. On approach shots you aim directly at the pin because
the ball is going to hit the sand and stop like a lawn dart. Putting is a
matter of firmness rather than reading breaks. Like bunkers on a regular
course, each green is equipped with a rake. The greens are raked in a circular
pattern, starting at the hole and moving out towards the edge of the green.
When all players in the group are on, you measure the distance from the hole to
your ball, using a club or string. The top side of the rake features a pipe
which is used for tamping or dragging. One simply flips the rake over and drags
the pipe, creating a smooth putting surface. Then all golfers place their ball
on the path at the appropriate distance. When everyone is finished putting, it
is sand golf etiquette to re-rake the green. During tournaments, my friends and
I would divide up holes and rake for tips.
It all sounds odd, but there was a time when sand greens were
commonplace. Actually Pinehurst in North
Carolina had sand greens until the 1930s. In the Midwest and north central U.S.
hearty grasses and irrigation systems were yet to be developed. So, as golf
gained in popularity, the masses were exposed to it through what they had. It’s
like your childhood sandlot where rocks and tires were used as bases. In
Hemingford’s case, the town sits just a few miles west of Nebraska’s Sand Hills
and sand was readily available.
A 2009 article in the Denver Post estimated that there were around 120
sand greens courses remaining in America. I suppose Hemingford is still
technically among those counted, though for all intents and purposes the course
has been abandoned. The city stopped watering it 20 years ago, the fairways
haven’t been mowed in at least a decade and the Chinooks have ridded the greens
of all of their sand.
The course’s demise came with that of its caretakers. When they passed
away, no one was left to carry the torch. People no longer mind traveling 20
miles to Alliance to play “real golf.” The EPA posed another problem . . .
something about pouring motor oil on ground above the Ogallala Aquifer (sand
greens courses now use vegetable or mineral oils).
It’s sad. I fondly remember gathering with my friends Mike, Eric and
Aaron after school for best ball matches. The customary wager was a bottle of
pop. Mike was the best golfer among us. Heck, he was one of the best golfers in
the county, even at the age of 12. I was the weakest golfer of the four so I
got Mike as my partner. The agreed rules stated that we had to use at least one
stroke from each player on each hole. I vividly remember Mike telling me to hit
a deciding putt firm. So, I hammered it. The ball hit the lip of the cup,
jumped a foot in the air and plopped down in the center for the win. Eric, who
we lost to cancer last fall, was pissed and refused to pay. That was payment
enough for Mike who was doubled over in laughter on the side of the green.
The Hemingford course is a perfect metaphor for this project which
hearkens back to a simpler time. I truly wonder if golf won’t come full circle
at some point. Courses around the country are closing as there are fewer and
fewer golfers. The truth is golf is too expensive. Also, with water issues
around the world, I tend to wonder if our best interest is keeping greens and
fairways lush. Perhaps there is a future for sand greens golf. I hope so.
Anyway, I found inspiration for the HCC design through a number of
sources. I enjoy the fact that it is the most unassuming golf course in the
world, yet people refer to it as a country club. At one time it truly was a
club, where the shared purpose of members was keeping the course alive rather
than playing golf itself.
I used a shield and banner as a nod to past logos from the U.S. Open. I
also wanted something hinting at the unique greens. When you hear “sand,” some
think of beaches. I think casinos. And since many courses use an animal in
their logo, I chose one that lives in the sand. At HCC, that’s a good thing.
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