GOLF ARCHITECTURE
[Illustration: THE 140-YARD SHORT HOLE AT SITWELL PARK: a fiercely
criticised green that has become universally popular.
_Frontispiece_]
GOLF ARCHITECTURE
ECONOMY IN COURSE CONSTRUCTION
AND GREEN-KEEPING
BY
DR. A. MACKENZIE
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY
H. S. COLT
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON,
KENT & CO. LTD., 4 STATIONERS’
HALL COURT : : LONDON, E.C.4
_Copyright_
_First published 1920_
INTRODUCTION
My partner, who is the author of these short essays on Golf Course
Architecture, has asked me to write an introduction. This is, however,
hardly necessary, as the name of Dr. Mackenzie is so well known in
connection with this subject.
Many years ago now the idea came to him, as to a few others, that it
might not be impossible to create a golf course without doing damage to
the natural attractions of the site. Up to that period the courses which
had been designed by man, and not by nature, had in great measure failed
in this direction, and although no doubt they had provided necessary
opportunities for playing the game, the surroundings in many cases proved
a source of irritation rather than pleasure.
I vividly remember meeting my present partner for the first time. I had
been asked to go to Leeds to advise about the design of the Alwoodley
Golf Course, and stayed at his house. After dinner he took me into his
consulting room, where, instead of finding myself surrounded by the
weapons of his profession as a Doctor of Medicine, I sat in the midst of
a collection of photographs of sand bunkers, putting greens, and golf
courses, and many plans and designs of the Alwoodley Course. I found that
I was staying with a real enthusiast, and one who had already given close
attention to a subject in which I have always been interested.
And it is this enthusiasm for the natural beauty of nature which has
helped him in all his work, so that in the case of Alwoodley the player
not only has the opportunity of displaying his skill in the game, but
also of enjoying the relaxation which delightful natural surroundings
always give.
No doubt many mistakes were made in our early attempts, and I never visit
a course which I have designed without seeing where improvements could be
made in the constructional work, and as long as this is so, I feel that
we shall all continue to learn and to make progress, our instructor being
nature herself.
H. S. COLT.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF ECONOMY IN COURSE CONSTRUCTION AND
GREEN-KEEPING 17
II. SOME FURTHER SUGGESTIONS 68
III. IDEAL HOLES 88
IV. THE FUTURE OF GOLF ARCHITECTURE 116
ILLUSTRATIONS
THE 140-YARD SHORT HOLE AT SITWELL PARK _Frontispiece_
PAGE
THE SIXTEENTH GREEN AT HEADINGLEY, LEEDS 26
THE HOME GREEN AT SITWELL PARK 28
AN ARTIFICIAL HUMMOCK AT MOORTOWN, CONSTRUCTED FROM THE STONES
REMOVED FROM THE FAIRWAY 32
THE FIFTEENTH HOLE ON THE CITY OR NEWCASTLE COURSE 40
DIAGRAM OF HOLE OF 370 YARDS, ILLUSTRATING THE VALUE OF ONE
BUNKER, B 45
THE ARTIFICIAL HUMMOCKS GUARDING THE FIFTH GREEN AT ALWOODLEY 49
THE SEVENTEENTH GREEN AT HARROGATE 52
GRANGE-OVER-SANDS: THE SITE OF ONE OF THE GREENS ON THE ROCKS
NEAR THE BOUNDARY OF THE COURSE—WORK JUST BEGINNING 62
GRANGE-OVER-SANDS: READY FOR TURFING—A GREEN CONSTRUCTED ON ROCKS 63
THE “SCRAPER” AT WORK ON WHEATLEY PARK, DONCASTER 69
GRANGE-OVER-SANDS: THE TURF CUTTING MACHINE AT WORK 70
GRANGE-OVER-SANDS: SANDHILLS CONSTRUCTED BY MEANS OF THE SCRAPER
ON TERRAIN ORIGINALLY PERFECTLY FLAT 71
AN ARTIFICIAL BUNKER ON THE FULFORD COURSE 86
THE SECOND HOLE AT HEADINGLEY 94
THE EIGHTH GREEN AT MOORTOWN 99
THE EIGHTH HOLE, “GIBRALTAR,” MOORTOWN GOLF COURSE 101
THE SIXTEENTH HOLE AT ST. ANDREWS 103
THE FOURTEENTH HOLE AT ST. ANDREWS 107
THE SEVENTEENTH HOLE AT ST. ANDREWS 111
PLAN OF IDEAL TWO-SHOT HOLE OF 420 YARDS 115
THE FIFTH HOLE AT FULFORD 124
GOLF ARCHITECTURE
CHAPTER I
GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF ECONOMY IN COURSE CONSTRUCTION AND GREEN-KEEPING
Economy in course construction consists in obtaining the best possible
results at a minimum of cost. The more one sees of golf courses, the more
one realises the importance of doing construction work really well, so
that it is likely to be of a permanent character. It is impossible to lay
too much stress on the importance of finality.
Every golfer knows examples of courses which have been constructed and
rearranged over and over again, and the fact that all over the country
thousands of pounds are frittered away in doing bad work which will
ultimately have to be scrapped is particularly distressful to a true
economist. As an example of unnecessary labour and expense, the writer
has in mind a green which has been entirely relaid on four different
occasions. In the first instance, it was of the ridge and furrow type;
the turf was then lifted and it was made dead flat. A new secretary
was appointed, and he made it a more pronounced ridge and furrow than
ever; it was then relaid and made flat again, and has now been entirely
reconstructed with undulations of a more natural outline and appearance.
In discussing the question of finality, it is well to inquire if there
are any really first-class courses in existence which have been unaltered
for a considerable number of years and still remain, not only a good test
of golf, but a source of pleasure to all classes of players. Is there any
existing course which not even the rubber cored ball has spoilt? And, if
so, what is the cause of its abiding popularity? The only one I know of
is one which has been described as “a much-abused old course at a little
place called St. Andrews, in the Kingdom of Fife.” This (as well as some
of the other championship courses to a lesser extent) still retains its
popularity among all classes of amateurs. In fact, it is characteristic
of all the best courses that they are just as pleasurable (possibly even
more so) to the long handicap man as to the player of championship rank.
This fact knocks on the head the argument which is often used that the
modern expert tries to spoil the pleasure of the player by making courses
too difficult.
The successful negotiation of difficulties is a source of pleasure to all
classes of players.
It may be asked, “Who originally constructed St. Andrews?” Its origin
appears to be shrouded in mystery: like Topsy, in _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_, it
simply “growed.” But the fact of the matter is that St. Andrews differs
from others in that it has always been deemed a sacrilege to interfere
with its natural beauties, and it has been left almost untouched for
centuries. No green-keeper has ever dared to shave down its natural
undulations. Most of the bunkers have been left where nature placed them,
and others have originated from the winds and the rains enlarging divot
marks left by the players, and some of them possibly by the green-keepers
converting those hollows where most players congregated, into bunkers,
owing to the difficulty of keeping them free from divot marks. The
bunkers at St. Andrews are thus placed in positions where players are
most likely to go—in fact, in the precise positions which the ordinary
Green Committee would suggest should be filled up. This is a significant
fact, and tends to show that many of our existing ideas in regard to
hazards have been erroneous. Mr. John L. Low pointed out years ago that
no hazard is unfair wherever it is placed, and this particularly applies
if the hazard is visible, as it should be obvious that if a player sees a
hazard in front of him and promptly planks his ball into it he has chosen
the wrong spot.
I once heard a Yorkshire tale of an old farmer finding a man in his
coal-house during a recent coal strike. He put his head through the
window and said, “Now I’ve copped you picking out all the big lumps.” A
voice from the darkness came, “You’re a liar, I’m taking them as they
come.”
On the old type of course like St. Andrews, the players have to take the
hazards as they come, and do their best to avoid them.
There is nothing new about the ideas of the so-called Golf Architect:
he simply wishes to reproduce the old ideas as exemplified in the old
natural courses like St. Andrews, those courses which were played on
before over-zealous green committees demolished the natural undulations
of the fairways and greens, and made greens like lawns for croquet,
tennis, or anything else except golf, and erected eyesores in the shape
of straight lines of cop bunkers, instead of emphasising the natural
curves of the links.
In the old view of golf, there was no main thoroughfare to the hole: the
player had to use his own judgment without the aid of guide posts, or
other adventitious means of finding his way. St. Andrews still retains
the old traditions of golf. For example, I have frequently seen four
individuals playing the long hole (the fourteenth), and deliberately
attacking it in four different ways, and three out of the four were
probably right in playing it in the ways they selected.
At St. Andrews “it needs a heid to play gowf,” as the caddie said to the
professor.
As the truest economy consists in finality, it is interesting to consider
the essential features of an ideal golf course. Some of them are
suggested now:
1. The course, where possible, should be arranged in two loops of nine
holes.
2. There should be a large proportion of good two-shot holes, two or
three drive-and-pitch holes, and at least four one-shot holes.
3. There should be little walking between the greens and tees, and the
course should be arranged so that in the first instance there is always a
slight walk forwards, from the green to the next tee; then the holes are
sufficiently elastic to be lengthened in the future if necessary.
4. The greens and fairways should be sufficiently undulating, but there
should be no hill climbing.
5. Every hole should have a different character.
6. There should be a minimum of blindness for the approach shots.
7. The course should have beautiful surroundings, and all the artificial
features should have so natural an appearance that a stranger is unable
to distinguish them from nature itself.
8. There should be a sufficient number of heroic carries from the tee,
but the course should be arranged so that the weaker player with the loss
of a stroke or portion of a stroke shall always have an alternative route
open to him.
9. There should be infinite variety in the strokes required to play the
various holes—viz., interesting brassy shots, iron shots, pitch and
run-up shots.
10. There should be a complete absence of the annoyance and irritation
caused by the necessity of searching for lost balls.
11. The course should be so interesting that even the plus man is
constantly stimulated to improve his game in attempting shots he has
hitherto been unable to play.
12. The course should be so arranged that the long handicap player, or
even the absolute beginner, should be able to enjoy his round in spite of
the fact that he is piling up a big score.
13. The course should be equally good during winter and summer, the
texture of the greens and fairways should be perfect, and the approaches
should have the same consistency as the greens.
A DECIDED ADVANTAGE
In regard to the first three principles, there can be little difference
of opinion. It is a considerable advantage that a course should be
arranged in two loops of nine holes, as on a busy day players can
commence at either the first or tenth tee.
In regard to the fourth principle. It used to be a common fallacy that
greens should be made dead flat. Even on some of the best golf courses
at the present day you find them made like croquet lawns. There has been
somewhat of a reaction lately against undulating greens, but this, I
believe, is entirely due to the fact that the undulations have been made
of a wrong character, either composed of finicky little humps or of the
ridge and furrow type. Natural undulations are the exact opposite to
the artificial ridge and furrow. The latter has a narrow hollow, and a
broad ridge, whereas the former has a large, bold, sweeping hollow, and a
narrow ridge.
[Illustration: THE SIXTEENTH GREEN AT HEADINGLEY, LEEDS—APPROXIMATE COST
£50: an entirely artificial hole; the site was originally on a severe
downhill slope and had to be cut out of rock.]
The most interesting putting the writer has ever seen is on the Ladies’
Putting Course at St. Andrews. Even first-class golfers consider it
a privilege to be invited there, and are to be found putting with
the greatest enthusiasm from early morn till late at night. There the
undulations are of the boldest possible type, large sweeping hollows
rising abruptly four or five feet up to small plateaus. A modern golf
architect who dared to produce the boldness of these St. Andrews’
undulations could hardly hope to escape hostile criticism.
In constructing natural-looking undulations one should attempt to study
the manner in which those among the sand-dunes are formed. These are
fashioned by the wind blowing up the sand in the form of waves, which
become gradually turfed over in the course of time. Natural undulations
are, therefore, of a similar shape to the waves one sees by the seashore,
and are of all kinds of shapes and sizes, but are characterised by the
fact that the hollows between the waves are broader than the waves
themselves.
If undulations are made of this kind, then there are always plenty of
comparatively flat places where the green-keeper can put the flag, and
there should never be any necessity to cut the hole on a slope.
A test of a good undulation is that it should be easy to use the mowing
machine over it.
If undulations are made of the kind I describe, it is hardly possible to
make them too large or too bold.
Perhaps the most aggravating type of undulation is the finicky little
hump or side-slope which you don’t see until after you have missed your
putt, and then begin to wonder why it has not gone in the hole.
[Illustration: THE HOME GREEN AT SITWELL PARK: An undulating green with
a wide choice of places for the hole in the hollows or on the flat.]
An almost equally common delusion is that fairways should be flat. I
quite agree that there is nothing worse than a fairway on a severe
side-slope, but, on the other hand, there are few things more monotonous
than playing every shot from a dead flat fairway. The unobservant player
never seems to realise that one of the chief charms of the best seaside
links is the undulating fairways, such as those near the club-house at
Deal, part of Sandwich, and most of the old course at St. Andrews, where
the ground is a continual roll from the first tee to the last green, and
where one never has the same shot to play twice; on these fairways one
hardly ever has a level stance or a level lie. It is this that makes the
variety of a seaside course, and variety is everything in golf.
If one considers St. Andrews hole by hole, it is surprising to find at
how many of them the dominating and important incident is associated with
an insignificant-looking hollow or bank, often running obliquely to the
line of your approach.
In constructing undulations of this kind on inland courses, it is well
to make them with as much variety as possible, and in the direction
you wish the player to go to keep the fairway comparatively flat, so as
to encourage players to place their shots, and thus get in a favourable
position for their next.
In this connection plasticine is frequently used for making models of
undulations. Plasticine is useful to teach the green-keeper points in
construction he would not otherwise understand—in fact, I believe, I was
the first designer of golf courses to use it for this purpose. The 14th
green at Alwoodley, which was the first one made there, was constructed
from a model in plasticine. It has its disadvantages, however, as a
course constructed entirely from models in plasticine has always an
artificial appearance, and can never be done as cheaply as one in which
the green-keeper is allowed a comparatively free hand in modelling the
undulations in such a manner that not only do they harmonise with their
surroundings, but are constructed according to the various changes in the
subsoil discovered whilst doing the work.
THE FOLLY OF FASHIONS
In regard to the fifth principle that every hole should have a different
character. A common mistake is to follow prevailing fashions. At first
we had the artificial cop bunkers extending in a dead straight line
from the rough on one side to the rough on the other; in modern course
architecture these are fortunately extinct. Secondly, we had the fashion
of pot bunkers running down each side of the course. This was, if
anything, an even more objectionable type of golf than the last. Thirdly,
we have had what has been called the alpinisation of golf courses.
In this connection I would point out that green-keepers should be careful
not to make hillocks so high in the direct line to the hole that they
block out the view: a little to one side of the bee line they may be made
as high as one pleases, but in the direct line hollows should, as a rule,
take the place of hillocks. This is the exact opposite to what is found
on many golf courses, where the hollows are at the sides and the banks in
the middle.
[Illustration: ARTIFICIAL HUMMOCK AT MOORTOWN, CONSTRUCTED FROM THE
STONES REMOVED FROM THE FAIRWAY.]
The great thing in constructing golf courses is to ensure variety and
make everything look natural. The greatest compliment that can be paid to
a green-keeper is for players to think his artificial work is natural. On
Alwoodley and Moortown practically every green and every hummock has been
artificially made, and yet it is difficult to convince the stranger that
this is so. I remember a chairman of the Green Committee of one of the
best-known clubs in the North telling me that it would be impossible to
make their course anything like Alwoodley, as there we had such a wealth
of natural hillocks, hollows, and undulations. It was only with great
difficulty that I was able to persuade him that, to use an Irishism,
these natural features which he so much admired had all been artificially
created. I have even heard one of the members of our own Green Committee
telling a well-known writer on golf that the hummocks surrounding one of
our greens had always been there: he himself had forgotten that he had
been present when the site for them had been pegged out.
THE QUESTION OF BLIND HOLES
It is not nearly as common an error to make blind holes as formerly. A
blind tee shot may be forgiven, or a full shot to the green on a seaside
course, when the greens can usually be located accurately by the position
of the surrounding hummocks, but an approach shot should never be blind,
as this prevents an expert player, except by a fluke, from placing his
approach so near the hole that he gets down in one putt.
Blind holes on an inland course where there are no surrounding sandhills
to locate the green should never be permitted, but an even more annoying
form of blindness is that which is so frequent on inland courses—that is,
when the flag is visible but the surface of the green cannot be seen. On
a green of this description no one can possibly tell whether the flag
is at the back, middle, or front of the green, and it is particularly
aggravating to play your shot expecting to find it dead, and to discover
that your ball is at least twenty yards short.
On a seaside course there may be a certain amount of pleasurable
excitement in running up to the top of a hillock in the hope of seeing
your ball near the flag, but this is a kind of thing one gets rather
tired of as one grows older.
IMPORTANCE OF BEAUTY
Another common erroneous idea is that beauty does not matter on a golf
course. One often hears players say that they don’t care a “tinker’s
cuss” about their surroundings: what they want is good golf.
One of the best-known writers on golf has recently been jeering at golf
architects for attempting to make beautiful bunkers. If he prefers ugly
bunkers, ugly greens, and ugly surroundings generally he is welcome
to them, but I don’t think for an instant that he believes what he is
writing about, for at the same time he talks about the beauties of
natural courses. The chief object of every golf architect or green-keeper
worth his salt is to imitate the beauties of nature so closely as to make
his work indistinguishable from nature itself.
I haven’t the smallest hesitation in saying that beauty means a great
deal on a golf course; even the man who emphatically states he does not
care a hang for beauty is subconsciously influenced by his surroundings.
A beautiful hole not only appeals to the short handicap player but also
to the long, and there are few first-rate holes which are not at the same
time, either in the grandeur of their undulations and hazards, or the
character of their surroundings, beautiful holes.
It is not suggested that we should all play round the links after the
manner of the curate playing with the deaf old Scotsman.
The curate was audibly expressing his admiration of the scenery, the
greens, and things in general, until they finally arrived at a green
surrounded by a rookery. The curate remarked, “Isn’t it delightful to
hear the rooks?” The deaf old Scotsman said, “What’s that?” The curate
again remarked, “Isn’t it delightful to hear the rooks?” The old Scotsman
replied, “I can’t hear a word you’re saying for those damned crows.”
The finest courses in existence are natural ones. Such courses as St.
Andrews, and the championship courses generally, are admitted to provide
a fine test of golf. It is by virtue of their natural formation that
they do so. The beauty of gold courses has suffered in the past from
the creations of ugly and unimaginative design. Square, flat greens
and geometrical bunkers have not only been an eyesore upon the whole
landscape, but have detracted from the infinite variety of play which is
the heritage of the game.
My reputation in the past has been based on the fact that I have
endeavoured to conserve existing natural features, and where these are
lacking to create formations in the spirit of nature herself.
In other words, while always keeping uppermost the provision of a
splendid test of golf, I have striven to achieve beauty.
It may at first appear unreasonable that the question of æsthetics should
enter into golf-course design; however, on deeper analysis, it becomes
clear that the great courses, and in detail all the famous holes and
greens, are fascinating to the golfer by reason of their shape, their
situation, and the character of their modelling. When these elements obey
the fundamental laws of balance, of harmony, and fine proportion they
give rise to what we call beauty. This excellence of design is more felt
than fully realised by the player, but nevertheless it is constantly
exercising a subconscious influence upon him, and in course of time he
grows to admire such a course as all works of beauty are eventually felt
and admired.
THE REAL OBJECT OF THE HAZARD
Most of the remaining principles depend on the proper disposition of
hazards, and I have a rather wider definition of hazards than is given by
the rules of Golf Committee. As a minor kind of hazard undulating ground,
hummocks, hollows, etc., might be included.
Most golfers have an entirely erroneous view of the real object of
hazards. The majority of them simply look upon hazards as a means
of punishing a bad shot, when their real object is to make the game
interesting. The attitude of the ordinary golfer towards hazards may be
illustrated by the following tale which I have frequently told before,
but which will bear repeating:
A player visiting a Scotch course asked his caddie what the members
thought of a stream which was winding in and out between several of the
holes. The caddie replied, “Weel, we’ve got an old Scotch major here.
When he gets it ower he says, ‘Weel ower the bonnie wee burn, ma laddie’;
but when he gets in he says, ‘Pick ma ball oot o’ that domned sewer.’”
The writer was recently playing with his brother, who was home on leave
from abroad. He was clearly enjoying his game, but at Alwoodley we have
one solitary pond into which he topped three balls. On arriving at the
club-house he was asked how he liked the course; he simply remarked,
“There were too many ruddy ponds about.”
It is much too large a subject to go into the question of the placing of
hazards, but I would like to emphasise a fundamental principle. It is
that, as already pointed out, no hazard is unfair wherever it is placed.
[Illustration: THE FIFTEENTH HOLE ON THE CITY OF NEWCASTLE COURSE:
constructed on flat, featureless clay land.]
A hazard placed in the exact position where a player would naturally go
is frequently the most interesting situation, as then a special effort is
needed to get over or avoid it.
GIVING THE PLAYER THRILLS
One of the objects in placing hazards is to give the players as much
pleasurable excitement as possible. On many inland courses there is not
a thrill on the whole round, and yet on some of the championship courses
one rarely takes a club out of the bag without having an interesting shot
to play. This particularly applies to the old course at St. Andrews,
and is one of the reasons why it always retains its popularity with all
classes of players. It is quite true that even this course is condemned
by some, but this may be due to the fact that they have not brains
enough, or have not played on it long enough, to appreciate its many
virtues.
There are some leading players who honestly dislike the dramatic element
in golf. They hate anything that is likely to interfere with a constant
succession of threes and fours. They look upon everything in the “card
and pencil” spirit. The average club member on the other hand is a keen
sportsman, he looks upon golf in the “spirit of adventure,” and that is
why St. Andrews and courses modelled on similar ideals appeal to him.
No one would pretend that the old course at St. Andrews is perfect: it
has its disadvantages, particularly in the absence of long carries from
the tee, and in its blind bunkers, but no links in the world grows upon
all classes of players in the same manner. The longer one plays there the
keener one gets, and this is a much truer test of a good course than one
which pleases at first and is boring later on.
A good golf course is like good music or good anything else; it is not
necessarily a course which appeals the first time one plays over it, but
one which grows on the player the more frequently he visits it.
St. Andrews is a standing example of the possibility of making a course
which is pleasurable to all classes of golfers, not only to the thirty
handicap players, but to the plus fourteen man, if there ever was or will
be such a person.
It is an interesting fact that few hazards are of any interest which are
out of what is known among medical men as the direct field of vision.
This does not extend much farther than ten to twenty yards on either side
of the direct line to the hole. Hazards placed outside this limit are
usually of little interest, but simply act as a source of irritation.
Hazards should be placed with an object, and none should be made which
has not some influence on the line of play to the hole.
TOO MANY BUNKERS
On many courses there are far too many bunkers: the sides of the fairways
are riddled with them, and many of these courses would be equally
interesting if half of the bunkers were turfed over as grassy hollows.
It is often possible to make a hole sufficiently interesting with one or
two bunkers at the most. For example:
It is obvious from the diagram that the green-guarding bunker B has a
considerable influence on the line of play to the hole.
The longer the carry a player achieves over the stream the easier his
second shot becomes.
If it were not for this bunker not only the approach but the tee shot
would be uninteresting, as there would be no object in essaying the long
carry over the stream.
[Illustration: DIAGRAM OF HOLE OF 370 YARDS, ILLUSTRATING THE VALUE
OF ONE BUNKER, B. Any additional bunker for the tee shot or across the
approach to the green would materially lessen the interest of the hole.
The moral is “Few bunkers placed in interesting positions!”]
Many poor golf courses are made in a futile attempt to eliminate the
element of luck. You can no more eliminate luck in golf than in cricket,
and in neither case is it possible to punish every bad shot. If you
succeeded you would only make both games uninteresting.
There are many points of resemblance between cricket and golf: the
fielders in cricket correspond to the hazards at golf. The fielders are
placed in the positions where the majority of shots go, and it should
obviously be easier with a stationary ball to avoid the hazards than to
avoid the fielders at cricket.
In both games it is only a proportion of bad shots that get punished,
but notwithstanding this the man who is playing the best game almost
invariably comes out on top.
It is an important thing in golf to make holes look much more difficult
than they really are. People get more pleasure in doing a hole which
looks almost impossible, and yet is not so difficult as it appears.
In this connection it may be pointed out that rough grass is of little
interest as a hazard. It is frequently much more difficult than a
fearsome-looking bunker or belt of whins or rushes, but it causes
considerable annoyance in lost balls, and no one ever gets the same
thrills in driving over a stretch of rough as over a fearsome-looking
bunker, which in reality may not be so severe.
Narrow fairways bordered by long grass make bad golfers. They do so by
destroying the harmony and continuity of the game, and in causing a
stilted and cramped style by destroying all freedom of play.
There is no defined line between the fairways in the great schools of
golf like St. Andrews or Hoylake.
It is a common error to cut the rough in straight lines. It should be
cut in irregular, natural-looking curves. The fairways should gradually
widen out where a long drive goes; in this way a long driver is given a
little more latitude in pulling and slicing.
Moreover irregular curves assist a player in locating the exact position
of a ball which has left the fairway and entered the rough.
GLORIFIED MOLE-HILLS
Hummocks and hollows should be made of all sorts of different shapes and
sizes, and should have a natural appearance, with plenty of slope at the
bottom like large waves. Most of the hummocks and hollows should be made
so smooth that the mowing machine can be used over them. The glorified
mole-hills one sees on many courses should be avoided.
[Illustration: THE ARTIFICIAL HUMMOCKS GUARDING THE FIFTH GREEN AT
ALWOODLEY: approximate cost, £8. The best way of combining sand and
hummocks, with the sand on the slope of the hazard above the ground
level.]
Bunkers on an inland course should, as a rule, be made in the opposite
way to what is customary. At the present time most bunkers have the
hollows sanded and the banks turfed. It is suggested that you get a
much more natural appearance if the hollows are partly turfed over and
the hummocks sanded, as in the photographs in these pages. This has the
following advantages: the appearance is much more like a seaside course;
the sand being above the level of the ground, always remains dry. The
contrast between white or yellow sand and the grass helps one to judge
distances much more accurately, and enables the ball to be found more
easily, and the great disadvantage and expense of scything the long grass
on the hummocks to prevent lost balls is done away with.
Ordinary bunkers are, as a rule, made in quite the wrong way. The face is
usually too upright and the ball gets into an unplayable position under
the face. The bottom of the bank of a bunker should have a considerable
slope, so that a ball always rolls to the middle; the top of a bunker
may, as it usually does in nature, be made to overhang a little so as to
prevent a topped ball running through it.
Experience gained in the imitation of natural slopes in bunker-making
was ultimately responsible for saving tens of thousands of pounds in
revetting material in the great war.
Trenches with the sides made like a bank of a stream with a considerable
slope at the bottom remained standing without any revetting material.
Before this principle was pointed out soldiers invariably dug their
trenches with a slope at the top, and as they got farther down the sides
became more vertical and sometimes were even undercut. A trench of this
kind invariably fell in, whereas those made vertical at the top with the
slope at the bottom did not do so.
Hazards are usually placed too far away from the greens they are
intended to guard; they should be placed immediately on the edge of the
greens, and then (particularly if they are in the form of smooth hillocks
and hollows) the player who is wide of them has an extremely difficult
pitch, and is frequently worse off than the man who is in them.
A bunker eating into a green is by far the most equitable way of giving
a golfer full advantage for accurate play. It not only penalises the man
who is in it, but every one who is wide of it. For example, a player who
is in the road bunker at the seventeenth at St. Andrews may with a good
dunch shot get out and lie dead, but few can pitch over it so accurately
that they do so. A bunker, similarly placed to the road bunker, may be
made to accentuate this distinction; it may be constructed with so much
slope that on occasions it can be putted out of.
Hummocks on the edge of greens are often constructed so that they assist
the man who has opened up the hole correctly; they act as a hazard only
to those who have failed to do this.
Perhaps the most serious mistake made by a golf committee is the fallacy
that they will save money by neglecting to obtain expert advice in regard
to fresh construction work.
Except where the course has been designed and the construction work
supervised by the modern golf architect, there is hardly a golf club of
any size which has not frittered away hundreds of pounds in doing bad
work, all for the want of the best advice in the first instance.
There can be little doubt that the poorer the club the more important it
is for it not to waste its small funds in doing the wrong kind of work,
but to get the best possible advice from its inception.
[Illustration: THE SEVENTEENTH GREEN AT HARROGATE: APPROXIMATE COST
£180: an entirely artificial plateau green constructed on flat land. The
comparatively heavy cost is due to the character of the subsoil—heavy
clay.]
THE COURSE FOR THE BEGINNER
I notice a well-known club, in forming a golf course, state that the
committee have decided to lay it out themselves, as they are afraid of a
golf architect making it too difficult for the average player. Now this
is precisely what the modern golf architect does not do; he in particular
adopts a most sympathetic attitude to the beginner and long handicap
player, but at the same time attempts to make the course interesting to
all sorts and conditions of players. It is characteristic of the modern
architect that he always leaves a broad and pleasurable road that leads
to destruction—that is, sixes and sevens on the card of the long handicap
player—but a straight and narrow path which leads to salvation—that is,
threes and fours for the plus man.
The writer has just returned from a most delightful sand-dune country
which he chose for his holiday in great part owing to the fact that he
had seen it before and had also seen Mr. Colt’s plan for the constructing
of what should have been the finest eighteen-hole course in England.
On arrival he found the secretary or the committee had, through motives
of false economy, refrained from getting Mr. Colt to supervise the work
and had done it themselves. The outcome was an expenditure of three or
four times as much money as Mr. Colt would have needed, the destruction
of many of the beautiful natural undulations and features which were
the making of Mr. Colt’s scheme, the conversion of magnificent visible
greens into semi-blind ones, banked up like croquet lawns, and a complete
absence of turf owing to wrong treatment, and alterations in the placing
of the tees, bunkers, and greens, and a total disregard of the beginner
and the long handicap player. On a seaside course in particular little
construction work is necessary; the important thing is to make the
fullest possible use of existing features. £500 in labour expended under
expert supervision is better than £10,000 injudiciously expended.
Surely in the case of a golf club it is more important to have an
architect for the course, and any new work on the course, than for the
club-house. Much greater mistakes are made in constructing the former
than in building the latter.
One can readily imagine what would be the ultimate result of a course
laid out by an average committee composed of scratch, three, four, and
eight handicap men. They are, most of them (probably subconsciously),
prejudiced against any hazard being constructed which they are likely to
get into themselves, but they are all unanimous in thinking that the poor
devil with a twenty-four handicap should be left out of consideration
altogether. The final result is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor even good
red herring.
THE QUALIFICATIONS OF THE EXPERT
The expert in golf architecture has to be intimately conversant with
the theory of playing the game, but this has no connection with the
physical skill in playing it. An ideal golf expert should not only have
a knowledge of botany, geology, and particularly agricultural chemistry,
but should also have what might be termed an artistic temperament and
vivid imagination. We all know that there is nothing so fatal in playing
golf as to have a vivid imagination, but this and a sufficient knowledge
of psychology to enable one to determine what is likely to give the
greatest pleasure to the greatest number are eminently desirable in
a golf architect. The training of the expert should be mental, not
physical.
My last principle is one which particularly affects the green-keeper:—the
course should be perfect all the year round.
It is quite a prevalent idea that courses on a clay subsoil can never
be made into good winter links. It does not matter so much as might be
expected, what the subsoil is like, provided it is well drained and the
turf on the top is of the right texture. Muddy courses are entirely due
to insufficient drainage, worms, and the wrong kind of turf.
Worms can be got rid of and the right kind of turf encouraged by adopting
modern methods of green-keeping. Many examples of what can be done in
converting really bad winter courses into good ones can be seen in the
North. Surface drainage, such as mole draining, gets rid of worms by
making the land so dry that they cannot work.
SOME HINTS ON GREEN TREATMENT
A common mistake in green-keeping is to imagine that because one form of
treatment benefits one course that it will necessarily benefit another.
The green-keeper should have sufficient knowledge of chemistry and botany
to be able to tell exactly what form of treatment is most likely to
benefit his greens.
For example, the ordinary artificial manure sold by some seeds merchants
for golf courses consists of a mixture of three parts of superphosphate
of lime, one part each sulphate of ammonia and sulphate of potash, and
one-tenth part of sulphate of iron. If no weeds are present, the sulphate
of iron may be omitted from the mixture; if daisies are present, the
sulphate of ammonia should be increased; if clover is present, the potash
and lime should be lessened in quantity; if the turf is sour, or if
sorrel is present, the sulphate of ammonia should be lessened, and lime
used as a separate dressing.
Farmyard manure should not, as a rule, be used as a surface dressing on
golf courses: it is much too likely to encourage weeds and worms.
Something of the nature of Peruvian guano, fish guano, meat guano, malt
culms, or dried blood, together with artificials, should be used in its
place. If humus is necessary, it may be added in the form of peat moss
litter, minced seaweed, etc., and the box should seldom be used on the
mowing machines.
It must be borne in mind that the turf required on a golf course is
entirely different to that required from a farming point of view.
It is now an absolutely exploded fallacy that worms are of any use on a
golf course; they should be got rid of by the use of charcoal obtained
from steel furnaces: ordinary wood charcoal is almost useless. Charcoal
in this form acts mechanically, owing to the small sharp pieces of steel
attached to it: it scratches the worms and prevents them getting through.
Worm-killers, especially those consisting of Mowrah Meal, are of great
value in destroying worms.
It is a mistake to consider that worm-killers, unless mixed with an
artificial manure, have any manurial value. The green-keeper will tell
you that after the application the grass has come up much greener. That
is due to the fact that the worms are no longer discolouring it by
crawling over it with their slimy bodies.
THE MOWING OF GREENS
A common mistake is not to mow greens during the winter months. I have
not the slightest doubt that mowing greens during the winter months is
beneficial to them: it keeps the grass from becoming coarse.
On those Scotch courses where the greens are so good all through the
winter, are not the rabbits mowing the greens all through the winter
months?
Are the knives of the mowing machine any more likely to do the grass harm
than the teeth of the rabbits?
It is a common mistake in sowing a green not to use a sufficient quantity
of seed. The ground should always be thoroughly prepared and manured
according to the chemical composition of the soil; then as much as five
or six bushels of seed per green can be sown to advantage.
Mixtures of grass seeds may be sold consisting of a considerable
proportion of seeds which do not germinate, and are not likely to do so,
on ordinary soils. Unscrupulous seeds merchants may undercut the more
honest ones in this way. Three bushels of the best seeds will go further
than six containing a large proportion of varieties which are not likely
to germinate.
In concluding this chapter on General Principles, it may be pointed out
that, although many of these ideas may appear revolutionary, the reader
may be assured that their success under varying conditions has been
proved in practice.
[Illustration: GRANGE-OVER-SANDS: the site of one of the greens on the
rocks near the boundary of the course—work just beginning.]
[Illustration: GRANGE-OVER-SANDS: ready for turfing—a green constructed
on rocks.]