Title: Golf Architecture - Economy in Course Construction and Green-Keeping
Author: Mackenzie, Donald A. (Donald Alexander)
Language: English
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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.]



CHAPTER II

SOME FURTHER SUGGESTIONS


It cannot be too frequently emphasised that in starting a new course
or reconstructing an old one it is of the utmost importance that the
committee should have a scheme before them of a definite and final
nature. It would be sound finance for the majority of golf clubs to pay
the expenses of the Green Committee for the purpose of visiting good
examples of construction work on other courses.

They should not of necessity visit courses where the leading open
competitions are held, as many of the very best clubs rarely offer their
courses for competitions.

They should be guided in their choice of architect by a course
constructed out of indifferent material, and not by one constructed out
of magnificent natural golfing land.

They should take into consideration the cost, the popularity with all
classes of players, and the finality and permanency of the work.

Having decided on the architect and having passed the plan, it is as well
to take steps to ensure that the construction work is done according to
the ideas of the designer.

Experience of advising a hundred golf clubs has convinced the writer
that the work can never be done properly except under occasional expert
supervision. Work done without expert supervision is invariably bad.

The designer should not be tied down too closely to his original plan.
Mature consideration and unexpected changes in the subsoil, etc., may
make a modification in the plan necessary to save expense and get better
results.

In a small book of this kind, it is impossible to go into the thousand
and one details which make for economy in course construction, but some
of these may be enumerated.

The chief items in the construction of a golf course are the following:

    1. Carting.
    2. Labour.
    3. Drainage.
    4. Seeding.
    5. Turfing.
    6. Manures.
    7. Sand.


CARTING

The cost of carting can often be reduced to a minimum by using a little
thought in the work. The stone from stone walls, rocks, the turf from
turf walls, or soil taken out of excavations should never be carted away:
they can always be used for raising a neighbouring green in the form of
a plateau, or in making hummocks or large undulations indistinguishable
from the natural ones which are so delightful on seaside courses. It is
rarely necessary to cart soil from a distance for the purpose of making
a hummock or a green. It is much more economical to remove a sufficient
area of turf from and around the site of an intended hummock or green,
and utilise the soil removed from the area around the hummock for this
purpose. This is a double advantage. The surrounding ground is lowered as
the hummock is raised, and makes the hummock appear higher, and at the
same time it is made to merge imperceptibly into the surrounding hollow
or hollows, and has a much more natural appearance. A hollow removed from
the front of the green has the effect of making the green appear as if it
were raised upon a plateau, and this is still further accentuated if the
soil removed is also used to build up the green.

Similarly the green and the bunkers guarding it should all be made at the
same time; the soil moved in making the bunkers can then be utilised in
the formation of the green. It was in former years considered imprudent
to construct bunkers until the experience of playing revealed the proper
position, but since those days our knowledge of green-keeping has
advanced. An expert can judge by the character of the grasses and the
nature of the undulations the amount of run which the ball is likely
to get, and this knowledge, combined with actual measurements, gives
more information than it is possible to gain by playing. Perhaps the
most important reason why the architect’s scheme should be completed
in the first instance is that bunkers are hardly ever placed in the
right position afterwards. It is difficult to find a member of a Green
Committee who is not subconsciously prejudiced against placing a bunker
where he is likely to get trapped himself.

After carting there is usually a considerable amount of labour necessary
to obliterate the tracks. Carting should, when possible, be done when
the ground is hard, in dry weather or during frost. Carts should not be
allowed to wander about all over the place, but should be made to keep in
one track. It is often advisable to remove the turf previous to carting
and relay it after the carting is finished. Carts can sometimes be
replaced with advantage by sledges with flat-bottomed runners.


LABOUR AT LESS THAN PRE-WAR COST

By introducing labour-saving machinery we have recently been getting
better results at less than pre-war cost. If work on a large scale is
being done, the steam navvy or grab might be tried for excavating and
making hummocks, etc.; traction engines are useful in uprooting small
trees, and larger ones can with advantage be blown up by dynamite. I
recently used blasting charges for the purpose of assisting to make
bunkers. An article in one of the Sheffield papers somewhat humorously
stated that this was not the first occasion Dr. Mackenzie’s bunkers had
been “blasted.”

[Illustration: THE “SCRAPER” AT WORK ON WHEATLEY PARK COURSE, DONCASTER.]

Trolleys on rails are frequently used to save carting or wheeling barrows.

The two machines which are found of the greatest value in saving labour
are the turf-cutting machine and the American scraper or scoop—the
former made from designs by the writer. It will cut an acre of sods in
an afternoon, and, moreover, cuts them of a more even thickness than by
hand. This machine is worked by two horses like a plough. One or two
clubs have condemned it without a fair trial, and on inquiry I have
usually found that the weather was too dry, the grass too long, the
blades had not been set properly, or that it had been used by a man
who had had no previous experience in working one. It has been used by
scores of clubs with a great deal of success. At Moortown we sodded over
twenty acres of sour heath land with it. The cost of this amounted to
little compared with sowing, as we were able to remove the sods from a
neighbouring field. Sowing would have cost at least twice as much, as
there were no signs of even a blade of grass on most of the land, and no
sowing was likely to be successful without lime and manuring, and carting
a tremendous quantity of soil so as to form a seed bed. The results have
been infinitely better and quicker than sowing at the rate of even twelve
bushels of the best grass seeds to the acre.

[Illustration: GRANGE-OVER-SANDS: the turf-cutting machine at work. The
photograph shows the dead, flat, featureless character of the country
before the work began.]

[Illustration: GRANGE-OVER-SANDS: sandhills constructed by means of the
scraper on terrain originally perfectly flat.]

The scraper is worked by a horse or two horses, and is particularly
useful for excavating light soil, but can even be used on heavy land if
each layer is ploughed before the scraper is used. The scraper is shaped
like a large shovel, the handles are raised, and the horse pulls and it
digs into the ground until it is full; the handles are then depressed and
the horse pulls it along to the required situation; it is then tipped
up, and the horse returns for another load. One horse and two men by
this means can do the work of a score of men working in the ordinary way
with wheelbarrows. In making hollows and hummocks it has an additional
advantage in that it gives them automatically a natural appearance,
and at the same time the horse in climbing up to the top of the hump
compresses the soil, and it does not sink so much afterwards.

The scraper has been used with considerable success at Castletown (Isle
of Man), Wheatley Park (Doncaster), and Grange-over-Sands, among other
courses.

It is important in constructing a new or altering an old course to get
the work done as quickly as possible: if the work is done gradually the
sods lie about for some time and are sometimes ruined. Most of the work
should be done during October and November, before the frosts commence:
good methods of organisation should prevent men being unemployed during
frost. If the greens, drains, and sites of bunkers are previously pared,
and the sods allowed to lie, then even though frost sets in, the sods
may be removed and a certain amount of excavation can still be proceeded
with. Sand, soil, and manures may be carted, hedges stubbed up, and trees
removed during frost.


DRAINAGE

It is advisable to drain golfing land much more thoroughly and
efficiently than ordinary farm land, but, on the other hand, by
exercising a little thought it can be done much more cheaply. For the
purpose of golf it is not only unnecessary to drain as deeply as is
customary for agricultural purposes, but it is much cheaper and more
satisfactory to adopt a system of shallow drains.

On a golf course, there is never any necessity to make allowance for
the possibility of subsoil ploughing; the drains can therefore be kept
near the surface. The great thing to bear in mind in draining is that
the water stratum must be tapped. On heavy clay land, it is absurd to
put drains in the middle of the clay, unless the whole of the trench is
filled with clinkers or other porous material, and this is needlessly
expensive. Drains may at times be placed in a groove on the surface of
the clay. On land of this description drains may often be placed with
advantage at as shallow a depth as from 6 to 12 inches. It should be
unnecessary to state that no effort should be spared to see that there
is sufficient fall, and for the purpose of ensuring this it is often
necessary to take the levels. Sufficient thought is rarely given to
drainage. The site of the main drains and the whole scheme of drainage
should be very carefully studied, and it is of special importance to take
into consideration the nature of the subsoil and position of the water
level. In peat, on the other hand, it is frequently advisable to drain
below the peat, even if this extends to a depth of 6 feet or more. If
this is impossible owing to lack of sufficient fall, wooden boards should
be placed below the drains.

The cheapest method of draining is by a system of mole drainage. I
have frequently used a mole drain worked by horses which was made from
suggestions by Franks, the Moortown green-keeper, and myself. It is
used as an attachment to the turf-cutting machine. By this method golf
courses on clay land could be drained, previous to the war, at less than
a pound per acre.

This mole drain works at the shallow depth of 6 inches, and is not
applicable to agricultural land, as even horses galloping over the
ground are sufficient to block the channel. It is, moreover, wonderfully
satisfactory on golfing land, especially as supplementary to ordinary
tile draining. Whenever the ground is sticky, or any casual water
appears, the mole is run through and it becomes absolutely dry at once.
This mole drain has a big advantage over the larger one, in that the cut
made by the mole is so small that it does not interfere with the lie of
the ball.

We have recently used a tractor instead of horses to pull the mole, and
have found it a great advantage to do so. The use of the mole provides
a solution for the problem of converting the muddiest of clay London
courses into good winter links. Experience has proved that the effect
lasts for fully ten years.

One of the most remarkable results of its use is that it gets rid of
worms. This is probably owing to the fact that it makes the ground so dry
that the worms can’t work in it.

It also prevents the ground becoming baked during dry summer weather.
This is a well-known effect of good drainage, although possibly an
unexpected one to the uninitiated. It is largely due to the drainage
preventing the ground becoming caked, and also to the encouragement of
turf with a good bottom to it.


TURFING

The cheapest and best method of removing turf is by means of a
turf-cutting machine. The thickness of the turf should vary according
to the nature of the grasses and the character of the subsoil. As a
general rule, turf for greens should be cut as thin as 1½ inches. This is
particularly important if the turf contains many tap-rooted weeds; the
roots of the weeds and many of the coarser grasses are then left behind
in the cutting.

In the experience of the writer, it is frequently not a difficult matter
to get excellent turf in the immediate neighbourhood of a golf course at
an extremely cheap rate—a halfpenny a yard or under—and turf obtained
from the immediate neighbourhood of the course is much more likely to be
suitable than turf obtained elsewhere. The writer has known a golf club
going to the expense of getting Silloth turf at 9_d._ a yard, the grasses
of which would inevitably disappear and be replaced by those of its
environment within a year or two, when much more suitable turf could be
obtained from the next field at a cost of a farthing a yard. It should
be borne in mind that the most useless turf from a farming point of view
is frequently the most valuable for golf. There are many other details
which help to lessen the cost of turfing. In an old-established course,
turf for new greens or for renovating old ones can frequently be obtained
from the sides of a neighbouring fairway, the sods from which may be
replaced by those removed from the site of the green.

There is usually a well-trodden path extending from every tee to the
nearest fairway. There is no turf so useful for renovating an old or
making a new tee as that obtained from a firm path of this kind. The sods
removed should be replaced by others, and they in turn get hard and firm.

An important question is the use of manures in turfing. Stable or
farmyard manure should almost invariably be placed under the sods: the
amount should vary according to the turf and soil. Five loads per green
is an average, and on undulating greens the manure should be placed
under the raised portions only. The hollows will look after themselves.
Manure does more harm than good if dug deeply in: it should be forked in
immediately under the sods, and the roots of the finer grasses feed on
it at once. If dug in deeply, the coarser grasses are encouraged at the
expense of the finer.

On wormy inland courses considerable expense in worm-killers can
frequently be saved by placing a few loads of coke breeze under the sods.

Although the best time to turf is in the late autumn and winter months,
sods can, if necessity arises, be laid in certain localities as late as
June.

If hot dry weather arrives, the newly laid sods should be covered with
cut grass during the day, and in the evening the grass should be removed
so that the dews help to keep the ground moist.


SEEDING

The writer has known of several instances where ground has been sown, and
the result has been so unsatisfactory that after a year or two the land
had to be ploughed up and resown.

It is much more economical in the long run to do the thing thoroughly.
Mistakes are most frequently made in sowing with the wrong seeds—in not
preparing the ground thoroughly beforehand, and in sowing at the wrong
time of year.

It is most important that a mixture should be chosen containing a goodly
proportion of seeds corresponding to the prevailing grasses of the
immediate neighbourhood, and seeds should always be obtained from a seeds
merchant who is not afraid of telling you the exact composition of his
mixture. Some seeds merchants sell mixtures which are not so valuable
for golfing turf as they appear—it is not the best kind of grass which
germinates too quickly. Finer turf usually results from a mixture which
comes up more slowly but is of a more permanent character. If seeding is
necessary, it is frequently advisable to sow with much larger quantity of
seed than is customary.

It is of the utmost importance to prepare the land thoroughly before
sowing. The ground should be well drained, the land well limed when
necessary, and fifteen loads to the acre of well-rotted stable manure
incorporated with the soil or a mixture of artificial manure in its stead.

After sowing see that the birds are scared away by one of the numerous
devices suggested for the purpose.


MANURES

It is surprising how much money can be saved in manures by the help of
science and a sufficient knowledge of chemistry to enable you to judge
which are the cheapest and most valuable manures suitable for the soil of
the locality with which you have to deal.

It is often advisable to make a point of studying the by-products of the
different industries in the district, as it is obvious that if a suitable
manure for the soil can be obtained on the spot, it is obtained cheaper
than by rail or cart from a distance. Fish or meat guano, basic slag,
malt dust, sulphate of ammonia, chalk, the refuse from leather, cloth,
and shoddy factories, seed crushing mills, seaweed, manure extracted
from town sewage works, peat moss litter, etc., are all of value under
different circumstances.

Basic slag can sometimes be obtained from a neighbouring steel works,
sulphate of ammonia from a gas works, chalk from a neighbouring
chalk pit, or seaweed from the seashore. Manures should be used with
a considerable amount of discretion and only in small quantities
at a time. I have known a considerable amount of damage done by the
unintelligent use of artificials. For example, artificials are of the
greatest possible value for golfing turf, but they should always be used
in small quantities but frequently, and should be well diluted with soil
or sand, and only used during moist weather. A mixture, consisting of
superphosphate of lime, sulphate of ammonia, and sulphate of potash,
supplies most of the feeding material that is necessary for golf, and
the experiments at Rothamstead conclusively prove that the character of
the grasses can be completely altered by varying the proportion of the
different constituents of this mixture.

Sulphate of ammonia is the most valuable of the constituents of this
mixture, but I have known of several greens (including even St. Andrews)
temporarily ruined by using sulphate of ammonia injudiciously. It should
never be put on a green undiluted, as, like most artificials, it has a
great affinity for water, and in dry weather absorbs the water from the
grasses and burns them up. It also should never be used if the land is
the least bit sour, as it simply increases this sourness.

A green-keeper should attempt to get a sufficient knowledge of botany
and chemistry to know by the character of the herbage of his greens the
kind and the amount of manure that is required. Green-keepers sometimes
think that if they use twice the usual quantity of a manure, it will have
double the effect; the exact contrary is the case, as the green may be
ruined entirely.

The most important manure of all is cut grass. If the cut grass is always
left on the greens and fairways, very little manuring is necessary. On
the other hand, if the grass is constantly removed year after year
(unless a considerable amount of manure is added to take its place),
the turf becomes impoverished and full of weeds. One of the unexpected
results of leaving the grass on is that less mowing is necessary. This is
probably due to the fact that the growth goes into the roots and not into
the leaves. Mowing without the box on is of special importance on sandy
or seaside courses.


SAND

Sand is often an expensive item on an inland course. It is surprising how
frequently a good class of sand is found in pockets on a course or in the
immediate neighbourhood. A knowledge of geology and botany will enable
you to foretell where sand is likely to be found.

On several occasions on visiting a course I have been told that there
was no sand in the district, and have been able to find some by noting
the character of the trees, grasses, etc. Sand may be economised by the
method in which bunkers are made. It will be noticed in the photographs
reproduced that most of the hollows have been turfed, but have been
formed in such a way that a ball gravitates towards the sand, which is
thrown up against the face. Bunkers of this description have a much more
natural appearance, and the amount of sand needed is also considerably
less than usual.

[Illustration: A BUNKER ON THE FULFORD COURSE, ARTIFICIALLY CONSTRUCTED
ON FLAT LAND AT A COST OF £3.]

By far the most important of all the foregoing suggestions is the
ultimate economy of making it as reasonably certain as possible that any
work done is of a permanent character and has not ultimately to be done
over again. There are few committees of golf clubs who attach sufficient
importance to expert advice. I suppose this is partly due to the fact
that they themselves would sooner have the work done badly and have the
fun of doing it than see any one else do it for them. In the nature of
things a course can only be constructed by an individual: “Too many cooks
spoil the broth” is a proverb which is more applicable in the case of
golf courses than in anything else.

I personally am a strong believer in encouraging the individuality of
the green-keeper, and not interfering with, but rather encouraging,
his original ideas, unless they are in opposition to sound fundamental
principles.



CHAPTER III

IDEAL HOLES


There are few problems more difficult to solve than the problem of what
exactly constitutes an ideal hole. The ideal hole is surely one that
affords the greatest pleasure to the greatest number, gives the fullest
advantage for accurate play, stimulates players to improve their game,
and never becomes monotonous.

The real practical test is its popularity, and here again we are up
against another difficulty. Does the average player really know what
he likes himself? One often hears the same player expressing totally
divergent opinions about the same hole. When he plays it successfully, it
is everything that is good, and when unsuccessful it is everything that
is bad. It frequently happens that the best holes give rise to the most
bitter controversy. It is largely a question of the spirit in which the
problem is approached. Does the player look upon it from the “card and
pencil” point of view and condemn anything that has disturbed his steady
series of threes and fours, or does he approach the question in the
“spirit of adventure” of the true sportsman?

There are well-known players who invariably condemn any hole they have
taken over six for, and if by any chance they ever reach double figures,
words fail them to describe in adequate language what they think of that
particular hole.

It does not by any means follow that when a player condemns a hole in
particularly vigorous language he really dislikes it. It may be a source
of pleasure to his subconscious mind. Although condemning it, he may be
longing to play it again so as to conquer its difficulties.

Who is to judge what is an ideal hole? Is it one of our leading players,
or any golfer who simply looks upon it from his own point of view? I
have known of an open champion expressing his opinion that a certain
course was superior to any in Britain. As far as this particular course
is concerned, it is generally admitted by amateurs that, although the
turf and natural advantages were excellent, it had not a single hole of
any real merit. The local committee were also of opinion that it was
monotonous and lacking in real interest, and had decided to have it
entirely remodelled, before this world renowned open champion persuaded
them to change their minds by expressing such strong views in its favour.

There are, unfortunately, many leading players who wish a course to be
designed so that it will favour their own play and will not even punish
their indifferent shots, but will put any one below their particular
standard out of the running altogether.

There are many leading players who condemn the strategic aspect of golf.
They only see one line to the hole, and that is usually the direct
one. They cannot see why they should, as in dog-legged holes, be ever
compelled to play to one or other side of the direct line. A bunker
in the direct line at the distance of their long drives is invariably
condemned by them, because they do not realise that the correct line
is to one or other side of it. Why should not even an open champion
occasionally have a shot that the long handicap man is frequently
compelled to play?

Should a course or hole be ideal from a medal or match-playing point of
view? If it is necessary to draw any distinction between the two, there
can be little doubt that match play should always have prior claim. Nine
out of ten games on most good courses are played in matches and not for
medals. The true test of a hole is, then, its value in match play.

The majority of golfers are agreed, I think, that an ideal hole should be
a difficult one. It is true there are some who would have it difficult
for every one except themselves. These, who usually belong to the
pot-hunting fraternity, may be left out of consideration. It is the
successful negotiation of difficulties, or apparent ones, which gives
rise to pleasurable excitement and makes a hole interesting.

What kind of difficulties make interesting golf?

We can, I think, eliminate difficulties consisting of long grass, narrow
fairways, and small greens, because of the annoyance and irritation
caused by searching for lost balls, the disturbance of the harmony and
continuity of the game, the consequent loss of freedom of swing, and the
production of bad players.

We can also eliminate blind greens, blind bunkers, and blind approaches.
The greater the experience the writer has of designing golf courses, the
more certain he is that blindness of all kinds should be avoided. The
only form of blindness that should ever be permitted is the full shot up
to a green whose position is accurately located by surrounding sandhills.
Even in a hole of this kind, it is not the blindness that is interesting,
but the visibility of the surrounding sandhills. At the Maiden hole at
Sandwich, it was the grandeur and the impressiveness of the Maiden that
made it a good hole, and not the blindness of the green.

The difficulties that make a hole really interesting are usually those
in which a great advantage can be gained in successfully accomplishing
heroic carries over hazards of an impressive appearance, or in taking
great risks in placing a shot so as to gain a big advantage for the
next. Successfully carrying or skirting a bunker of an alarming or
impressive appearance is always a source of satisfaction to the golfer,
and yet it is hazards of this description which so often give rise to
criticism by the unsuccessful player. At first sight he looks upon it as
grossly unfair that, of two shots within a few inches of each other, the
one should be hopelessly buried in a bunker and the other should be in an
ideal position.

However, on further consideration he will realise that, as in dog-legged
holes, this is the chief characteristic of all good holes.

[Illustration: THE SECOND HOLE AT HEADINGLEY—COST £40. HUMMOCK AND
BUNKERS ENTIRELY ARTIFICIAL: a two-shot dog-legged hole; the photo is
taken along the line of the second shot.]

Holes of this description not only cater for great judgment, but great
skill: a man who has such confidence that he can place his ball within
a few feet of his objective gains a big advantage over a faint-hearted
opponent who dare not take similar risks. On a course, with holes of
this kind, match play becomes of intense interest.

In a perfect hole the surface of not only the green, but the approach to
it, should be visible. It is difficult, or even impossible, to judge an
approach accurately unless the ground which the ball pitches on can be
seen. It also gives great pleasure (or sometimes pain) to see the result
of one’s shot.

In an ideal hole, the turf should be as perfect as possible and the
approaches should have the same consistency as the greens, but it is by
no means advisable to avoid entirely bad lies or irregular stances. There
is not only much skill required, but an improvement of one’s game results
in occasionally having to play out of a cupped lie, or from an uneven
stance. There are few things more monotonous than always playing from a
dead flat fairway.

In an ideal long hole, there should not only be a big advantage from
successfully negotiating a long carry for the tee shot, but the longer
the drive, the greater the advantage should be. A shorter driver should
also, by extreme accuracy, be able to gain an advantage over a long
hitting but less accurate opponent.

An ideal hole should provide an infinite variety of shots according
to the varying positions of the tee, the situation of the flag, the
direction and strength of the wind, etc. It should also at times give
full advantage for the voluntary pull or slice, one of the most finished
shots in golf, and one that few champions are able to carry out with any
great degree of accuracy.

Should an ideal hole be ideal for the plus, scratch, or long handicap
player? As players of all handicaps play golf, a hole should as far as
possible be ideal for all classes. There are many famous holes, such as
the Cardinal, which are by no means ideal, as in an ideal hole there
should always be an alternative route open to the weaker player.

Are there any ideal holes in existence at the present moment?

I think the eleventh (the short hole coming in at St. Andrews) may be
considered so. Under certain conditions, it is extremely difficult for
even the best player that ever breathed, especially if he is attempting
to get a two, but at the same time an inferior player may get a four if
he plays his own game exceptionally well. It has been suggested that the
mere fact that it is possible to putt the whole length is an objection to
it. No doubt the timid golfer can play the hole in this way, but he will
lose strokes by avoiding risks. Even if an expert putter holes out in
four strokes once in three times, he can consider himself lucky. I do not
know of a solitary example of a player achieving success in an important
match by this means. If a cross bunker were constructed at this hole,
it would become appreciably diminished in interest in consequence. The
narrow entrance and the subtle slopes have all the advantages of a cross
bunker without making it impossible for the long handicap man. These
contentions are borne out by those attempts that have been made to copy
and improve on the hole by a cross bunker.

There are few, if any, other ideal short holes in existence. The seventh
and fourteenth on the Eden Course at St. Andrews are remarkably fine
holes, especially as they have to a great extent been artificially
created. At the present moment the gorse in places is somewhat near both
greens, but this can easily be rectified, and the architect, Mr. H. S.
Colt, was wise in not removing too many whins in the first instance, as,
if once removed, they cannot be replaced.

Another good example is the eighth at Moortown (formerly seventeenth, or,
as it is known locally, Gibraltar). Its length is 170 yards, and it has
been entirely artificially created at the small cost of £35.

[Illustration: THE EIGHTH GREEN AT MOORTOWN: 170 yards, entirely
artificial.]

The green has been constructed on a slight slope. The soil has been
removed from the lower portion of the slope to make the bunkers and to
bank up the green. The natural slope has been retained at the entrance
to the green, and, like the eleventh at St. Andrews, it is these subtle
slopes which lead a ball which has not been correctly hit, into the
adjacent bunkers, and in reality have very much the same effect as a
cross bunker without the hardship to the long handicap player.

The hole also shares with the eleventh at St. Andrews the necessity for
an infinite variety of shots according to varying conditions of wind,
position of flag, etc. One day it is a comparatively easy pitch with a
mashie, normally it is a straight iron shot, sometimes a full shot with a
trace of pull is required, and, again, it is necessary to slice so that
one’s ball is held up against the slope of the hill.

The green is delightfully picturesque. It is extremely visible against a
background of fir trees—it stands up and looks at you.

The contrast between the vivid green of the grass, the dark green of
the firs, the whiteness of the sand, the purple heather, and a vivid
background of rhododendrons, combined with the natural appearance
and extreme boldness of the contours, gives one a picture probably
unsurpassed by anything of a similar kind in nature.

[Illustration: EIGHTH HOLE, “GIBRALTAR,” MOORTOWN GOLF COURSE.]

It is not only a delightful hole to see, which at any rate appeals
subconsciously to the dullest of minds, but it is equally delightful to
play. It is less difficult than it appears. You feel you are taking your
life in your hands, and it therefore appeals, as Mr. Bernard Darwin says,
to the “spirit of adventure”—yet a well-played shot always gets its due
reward.

There are few, if any, ideal two- or three-shot holes in existence. Some
of those coming in at St. Andrews are almost, but not quite, perfect.

The sixteenth (Corner of the Dyke) hole at St. Andrews is almost ideal
for its length (338 yards). It was a particularly good hole at the time
of the guttie ball, and is so to-day for a short driver, like the writer.

As in the majority of good holes, it is the subtlety of the slopes that
makes it so.

[Illustration: THE SIXTEENTH HOLE AT ST. ANDREWS.]

The green is tilted up slightly from right to left, and it would be a
better hole still if the inclination were greater. It is also guarded by
Grant’s and the Wig Bunkers on the left-hand side, so that the approach
from the right is easy, as all the slopes assist the players, and the
approach from the left is exceedingly difficult.

The point about the hole is that it is so difficult to get into the
best position to approach the green, because of the proximity of the
Principal’s Nose Bunker to the railway, and the difficulty of placing
one’s tee shot in such a small space with all the slopes leading to the
bunker. On the other hand, there is a perfectly easy route free from
all risk to the left of the Principal’s Nose, but the player in all
probability loses a stroke by taking it.

The fourteenth and seventeenth holes at St. Andrews are excellent holes,
full of dramatic incident in match play.

The fourteenth hole is probably the best hole of its length in existence.
Here, again, the hole is made by the slope of the green. There is a most
marked tilt up from left to right, so much so that it is impossible to
approach near the hole from the right. It is slopes of this kind which
are so often overlooked in designing a golf course, and it is one of the
most difficult things imaginable to construct them really well; but it is
subtleties of this nature which make all the difference between a good
course and a bad one.

At the fourteenth hole at St. Andrews this tilt of the green has a
considerable influence on the tee shot 530 yards away. Some years ago
there were four of us playing four ball matches nearly every day for a
month. We, according to our own judgment, attempted to play this hole
in four different ways. A played his tee shot well away to the left of
the Beardies on to the low ground below the Elysian Fields, so as to
place his second in a favourable position for his approach. B, who was
a long driver, attempted to carry the Beardies with his drive, Hell
with his second, and run up his third. C, who was a short but fairly
accurate hitter, attempted to pinch the Beardies as near as he dare,
and then played his second well away to the left, so as to play against
the slope of the green for his third. D took what was apparently the
straightforward route along the large broad plateau of the Elysian
Fields, and eventually landed in Hell or Perdition every time: he
invariably lost the hole.

This hole is very nearly ideal, but would be better still if the lie of
the land were such that the Beardies, the Crescent, the Kitchen, and Hell
Bunkers were visible and impressive looking. If these bunkers only looked
as terrifying and formidable as they really are, what thrills one would
get in playing this hole! What pleasurable excitement there would be in
seeing one’s second shot sailing over Hell!

[Illustration: FOURTEENTH HOLE AT ST. ANDREWS: showing lines taken by A,
B, C, and D.]

It may be, however, that it is just as well these bunkers are blind. If
they had been visible, although in reality they would have been much
fairer, there would have been so many players crying out that it was most
unfair that bunkers should be placed in the exact position where perfect
shots go; that it was most iniquitous to have a hazard like the Beardies
180 yards from the tee exactly in the line for the hole; that the carry
over Hell for the second shot is over 400 yards from the tee; and that
the only way to play the hole was along the fairway to the fifth, etc.,
etc.

As these bunkers are blind, players do not notice these things, and the
lives of the Green Committee are saved.

The seventeenth hole at St. Andrews is almost too well known to need
description—it is probably the most noted hole in the world. Although so
difficult, it is by no means impossible for the long handicap player,
for he can go pottering along, steering wide of all hazards, and losing
strokes because he refuses to take any risks.

At this hole, once more, it is the slopes that give so much character to
the hole.

Even for the tee shot there is a ridge immediately beyond the corner of
the station-master’s garden which kicks your ball away from the hole
if you pitch to the left of it, and towards the hole if you pitch to
the right—in fact, an extra yard or two over the corner makes all the
difference in getting into a favourable position for the second shot.
There are also hillocks and ridges down the right-hand side, all forcing
an inaccurately placed shot into an unfavourable position for the
approach.

I often think that the hole would be more interesting without the
Scholar’s Bunker—the latter prevents a badly hit second getting into the
danger zone. If it were not there, one would much more frequently be
forced to play the sporting approach to the green with the road bunker
intervening. It is this road bunker, with the slopes leading a ball to
it, which makes this hole of such intense interest. Notwithstanding the
abuse showered on it, this bunker has done more to sustain the popularity
of St. Andrews than any feature on the course.

During the last few years there have been many good inland courses
constructed. Several of these, such as Swinley Forest, St. George’s Hill,
Sunningdale, Alwoodley, Moortown, Ganton, etc., have some excellent long
holes.

At Alwoodley, two of the dog-legged holes, the eighth and fifteenth,
are particularly good examples. The eighth is played from right to left
and the fifteenth from left to right. In each case the green has been
constructed with a marked side slope, so that the nearer the golfer plays
to the angle of the dog-leg, the greater the slope favours him.

[Illustration: THE SEVENTEENTH HOLE AT ST. ANDREWS.]

In 1914 the writer designed an ideal two-shot hole which won the first
prize in a competition for Golfing Architecture, promoted by _Country
Life_.

In designing it, he attempted to produce an ideal hole among perfect
surroundings, and what could be more perfect than sand-dunes by the
seashore!

The hole is 420 yards long from the ordinary and 450 yards from the Medal
Tee.

An effort has been made to produce the old type of golf, in which a
player has no fixed line to the hole, but has to use his own judgment in
playing it, according to varying conditions of wind, etc.

The green is guarded by bunkers and a large hillock (20 feet high) on
the right of the approach, and is also tilted upwards from left to right
and from the front to the back, so that the approach from the left is an
easy one, and from the right necessitates such a difficult pitch that the
player is likely to overrun the green into the bunker beyond.

There are five possible routes to the hole, and the choice of the player
must vary from day to day, according to his length of drive, the state of
the weather, etc.

It caters for all classes of players—even the absolute beginner can take
No. 5 line. He loses strokes not by getting into bunkers, but by avoiding
risks, and probably takes five, or at least four, to reach the green in
consequence; nevertheless he enjoys his game, and not being disheartened,
he improves, until finally he may be able to achieve the boldest line of
all, and drive a fine ball straight to the hole.

He who takes the left-hand road by way of the island can also get home
in two; he has a shorter carry, but has to make up for this by extreme
accuracy.

There are many positions by the seashore where a hole of this kind could
be constructed, but it would be possible to make one of a similar type
inland, especially if the subsoil consisted of sand and the lie of the
land was favourable. The seashore could be replaced by bunkers, old
quarry workings, hummocky ground, rough, or even land out of bounds.

Success in construction depends entirely on expert supervision. It is
like all successful golf-course construction, a question of making
the best use of natural features and the devising of artificial ones,
indistinguishable from nature.

[Illustration: PLAN OF IDEAL TWO-SHOT HOLE OF 420 YARDS.]



CHAPTER IV

THE FUTURE OF GOLF ARCHITECTURE


As the future of Golf Architecture depends on the prospects of golf, it
may be of interest to discuss the probability of its abiding popularity.

Golf has been played in Scotland for several centuries, and there appears
to be no sign of any decreased popularity, but rather the reverse. The
illusiveness of golf is sufficient to ensure its popularity. No one
ever seems to master it. You imagine you have got the secret to-day,
but it has gone to-morrow. This is so in all good games. There are some
games, such as ping-pong and roller-skating, which become merely passing
crazes, and the reason is that one obtains a certain standard which
neither diminishes nor increases, and then the game becomes monotonous.
Golf on a first-rate course can never become monotonous, and the better
the course the less likely it is to do so. Golf on a good links is, in
all probability, the best game in the world, but on the late-Victorian
type of inland course, where there is a complete lack of variety, flat
fairways, flat unguarded greens, long grass, necessitating frequent
searching for lost balls, and mathematically placed hazards consisting
of the cop or pimple variety, it not only offends all the finest
instincts of the artist and the sportsman, but is the most boring game in
existence. The advent of the golf architect is rapidly curing all these
disabilities.

A good golf course is a great asset to the nation. Those who harangue
against land being diverted from agriculture and used for golf have
little sense of proportion. Comparing the small amount of land utilised
for golf with the large amount devoted to agriculture, we get infinitely
more value out of the former than the latter. We all eat too much.
During the Great War the majority were all the fitter for being rationed
and getting a smaller amount of food, but none of us get enough fresh
air, pleasurable excitement, and exercise. Health and happiness are
everything in this world. Money-grubbing (so called business), except in
so far as it helps to attain these, is of minor importance. One of the
reasons why I, “a medical man,” decided to give up medicine and take to
golf architecture was my firm conviction of the extraordinary influence
on health of pleasurable excitement, especially when combined with
fresh air and exercise. How frequently have I, with great difficulty,
persuaded patients who were never off my doorstep to take up golf, and
how rarely, if ever, have I seen them in my consulting-rooms again! It is
not suggested that golf is the one and only remedy. Men may get equal
results from shooting, fishing, riding, cricket, tennis, etc., and may
even obtain pleasurable excitement from gardening, politics, or their
own business, but for the majority of men, golf is the most convenient
form of pleasurable excitement and exercise to take. Those who rave
against golf courses surely forget that many of the greatest politicians,
thinkers, and business men conserve their health and their mental powers
through golf. As examples we could quote President Wilson, Lloyd George,
Carnegie, A. J. Balfour, Asquith, Winston Churchill, Lord Northcliffe,
and scores of others. I hope to live to see the day when there are crowds
of municipal courses, as in Scotland, cropping up all over England. It
would help enormously in increasing the health, the virility, and the
prosperity of the nation, and would do much to counteract discontent and
Bolshevism. There can be no possible reason against, and there is every
reason in favour of, municipal courses. They are all for the good of the
community, and even from a financial point of view, at the small green
fees of 3_d._ or 6_d._ a round invariably pay.

If this be so that games, and particularly golf, are of such vital
importance to national health and social content, then surely the
provision of adequate and proper facilities for golf should be taken
seriously, and in making this provision the golf architect has a special
part.

The test of a good golf architect is the power of converting bad inland
material into a good course, and not the power of fashioning excellent
seaside material into a mediocre one.

The majority of amateurs are sportsmen, and they welcome anything that
increases the sporting element of the game. There are, on the other hand,
others, including some of our best players, who look upon golf in the
“card and pencil” spirit, and view with resentment anything that has
stopped their steady series of threes and fours.

The advent of the golf architect has done much to increase the sporting
and the dramatic element in golf. The true test of the value of his work
is its popularity, and judging by the rapid increase in members, even on
the mere rumour that the services of a well-known course architect are
to be obtained, there can be no doubt the modern constructor of courses
has achieved this. The writer knows examples of the reconstruction of one
or two short holes bringing in over one hundred fresh members to a club
which had been steadily diminishing in numbers for years.

There are many and varied qualities required for the making of a
successful golf architect.

In the first place, he must have an intimate knowledge of the theory of
playing the game. He need not be himself a good player. He may have some
physical disability which prevents him becoming so, but as the training
of the golf architect is purely mental and not physical, this should not
prevent him from being a successful golf-course architect. In any case,
the possession of a vivid imagination, which is an absolute essential in
obtaining success, may prevent him attaining a position among the higher
ranks of players. Every one knows how fatal imagination is in playing the
game. Let the fear of socketing once enter your head, and you promptly
socket every shot afterwards.

His knowledge of the game should be so intimate that he knows
instinctively what is likely to produce good golf and good golfers. He
must have more than a passing acquaintance with the best courses and the
best golfing holes. It is not only necessary that he should play them,
but study them and analyse the features which make them what they are.
He must have a sense of proportion and be able to differentiate between
essentials and non-essentials. He should be able to distinguish between
those features which are of supreme importance in the making of a hole
and those which are of less value.

He must have judgment in the choice of features which can be readily
and cheaply reproduced, and not those which are impossible to construct
without an inordinate expenditure of labour.

How frequently has one seen hundreds of pounds wasted in a futile attempt
to reproduce the Alps, the Himalayas, or the Cardinal! Features of this
kind look absolutely out of place unless the surrounding ranges of hills
which harmonise with them are also reproduced. To do this would involve
the expenditure of hundreds of thousands of pounds. How often are
attempts made to copy a hole and the subtle slopes and undulations which
are the making of the original overlooked!

The golf-course architect must have the sporting instinct, and if he has
had a training in many and varied branches of sport, and has analysed
those characteristics which provide a maximum of pleasurable excitement
in them, so much the better. It is essential that he should eliminate
his own game entirely, and look upon all constructional work in a purely
impersonal manner.

He should be able to put himself in the position of the best player that
ever lived, and at the same time be extremely sympathetic towards the
beginner and long handicap player.

He should, above all, have a sense of proportion and be able to come to a
prompt decision as to what is the greatest good to the greatest number.

[Illustration: THE FIFTH HOLE AT FULFORD, YORKS—APPROXIMATE COST, £35:
the whole of the additional nine holes on this course were constructed on
dead flat land at a total cost of about £300.]

He should not be unduly influenced by hostile criticism, but should give
the most sympathetic consideration to criticism of a constructive nature.
Not infrequently a long handicap man makes a brilliant suggestion which
can often be utilised in a modified form.

A knowledge of psychology gained in the writer’s medical training has
been of great service in estimating what is likely to give the greatest
pleasure to the greatest number.

It by no means follows that what appears to be attractive at first
sight will be permanently so. A good golf course grows on one like good
painting, good music, etc.

The ideal golf architect should have made a study, from a golfing point
of view, of agricultural chemistry, botany, and geology. He should also
have some knowledge of surveying, map-reading, and the interpretation of
aerial photographs.

Aerial photography will become of enormous value in all kinds of
surveying, town-planning, the construction of golf courses, etc.

There are all sorts of details visible in an aerial photograph which are
often omitted after the most careful survey in the ordinary way. The
exact positions of every tree, hummock, natural bunker, tracks, hedges,
ditches, etc., are well defined. The exact areas occupied by permanent
pasture, grass grown for hay, crops, clumps of whins, rushes, etc., can
all be distinguished in an aerial photograph.

These, combined with a good ordnance and geological drift-map, are of
inestimable value, and in many cases would assist even the most expert
golf architect to make such full use of all the natural features that
thousands of pounds might ultimately be saved in reducing the acreage
required and in minimising the cost of labour, upkeep, etc.

In these days when manual labour costs so much, it is of supreme
importance to reduce it to a minimum by the substitution of mental labour.

Golf architecture is a new art closely allied to that of the artist or
the sculptor, but also necessitating a scientific knowledge of many other
subjects.

In the old days, many golf courses were designed by prominent players,
who after a preliminary inspection of the course simply placed pegs to
represent the position of the sites for the suggested tees, greens,
bunkers, etc. The whole thing was completed in a few hours, and the best
results could hardly have been expected, and in fact never were obtained,
by these methods.

The modern designer, on the other hand, is likely to achieve the most
perfect results and make the fullest use of all the natural features by
more up-to-date methods.

After a preliminary inspection or inspections in the calm and quiet
of his own study with an ordnance map and, if possible, aeroplane
photographs in front of him, he visualises every feature. He is then
not so likely to be obsessed by details, but gives everything its due
proportionate value. He then evolves his scheme and pays a second visit
to the ground, and, if necessary, modifies his ideas according to the
appearance on the spot.

There is an extraordinary resemblance between what is now known as the
camouflage of military earthworks and golf-course construction.

The writer was fortunate during the war in being asked to give the
demonstrations to members of the Army Council which were the foundation
of, and led to the establishment of, the first school of camouflage.

These demonstrations were evolved from his experience as a golf-course
architect in the imitation of natural features.

Successful golf-course construction and successful camouflage are almost
entirely due to utilisation of natural features to the fullest extent and
to the construction of artificial ones indistinguishable from nature.

It is clear that if a gun emplacement or any other object of military
importance is made indistinguishable from the most innocent-looking
feature on the landscape, it will escape the disagreeable attention of
the enemy. And what can appear more innocent than the natural undulations
of the ground? Therefore in camouflage, as in golf-course construction,
the ability to imitate natural undulations successfully is of special
importance.

There are many other attributes in common between the successful golf
architect and the camoufleur.

Both, if not actually artists, must have an artistic temperament, and
have had an education in science.

Surprise is the most important thing in war, and by camouflage you are
able to obtain this not only on the defence but in the attack.

In golf architecture and camouflage a knowledge of psychology is
of enormous value. It enables one to judge what is likely to give
pleasurable excitement to the golfer and confidence and improvement
in _moral_ to the soldier. The writer feels most strongly that his
experience in the Great War in visualising and surveying miles of sites
for fortifications in this country and abroad, in map-reading, in the
interpretation of aerial photographs, in drainage and labour-saving
problems, and particularly in the mental training of strategic camouflage
and devising traps and surprises for the enemy, was by no means wasted
even from a golf-course point of view. The only man he has been
successful in initiating rapidly into the mysteries of golf-course
architecture was not a golfer but an artist, and one of the greatest, if
not the greatest, of experts on camouflage.

A little knowledge is a specially dangerous thing in links’ architecture.
One of our greatest troubles in dealing with the committees of the
old-established seaside courses is that their world-renowned reputation
(not due to any virtue of their own, but entirely owing to the natural
advantages of their links) makes them think themselves competent judges
of a golf course.

They ask for a report and plan of suggested improvements, and then
imagine they have grasped the ideas of the designer, and proceed to make
a horrible hash of it. I do not know a single seaside course which has
been remodelled in anything like the way it should have been remodelled.

The best artificially constructed seaside course I know is the Eden (Mr.
Colt’s) Course at St. Andrews. There are few of the crowds of players
who, notwithstanding its youth, already congregate on it realise how much
is due to artificiality and how little to nature. All the best ground at
St. Andrews had been previously seized for the three older courses—viz.,
the Old, the New, and the Jubilee—and yet it compares favourably with any
of them. This is entirely due to the fact that not only was it designed
by Mr. Colt, but the construction work was done by men who had been
trained under him and worked under his supervision.

It is much better that construction work should be done by men without
any knowledge of the subject than by those partly trained.

There is a yarn told about two rival constructors of golf courses: one
of them was admiring the other’s greens, and remarked that “he never
managed to get his green-keeper to make the undulations as natural
looking.” The other replied that “it was perfectly easy; he simply
employed the biggest fool in the village and told him to make them flat.”

I believe the real reason St. Andrews Old Course is infinitely superior
to anything else is owing to the fact that it was constructed when no
one knew anything about the subject at all, and since then it has been
considered too sacred to be touched. What a pity it is that the natural
advantages of many seaside courses have been neutralised by bad designing
and construction work!

The architect is the best judge in deciding how often he should
visit a course for supervision purposes. How often have I heard from
the secretary, who is almost invariably a cheery optimist, that the
construction work was going on splendidly, and when too late discovered
that hundreds of pounds had been thrown away in doing bad work which had
ultimately to be scrapped!

There is an old Persian saying:

    “He who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool.
    Avoid him.

    “He who knows not, and knows that he knows not, will learn.
    Teach him.

    “He who knows, and knows not that he knows, will fail. Pity him.

    “He who knows, and knows that he knows, is a wise man. Follow
    him.”

The majority of committees, being composed of men who have made their
living out of their brains, are beginning to know that they know not, and
this is all to the good of the future of golf.

The most backward committees are those in Scotland, London, and America.
They have not yet realised that golf-course architecture is a question
of mental and not physical training. It is particularly strange that my
own countrymen, who have such a wealth of golfing material and attach
so much importance to education, attach so little to education in golf
architecture.

The time will surely come, as it has already done in the North of
England, when committees will attach as much importance to the
architecture of the course as to that of the club-house.

In time many of the dull, monotonous, muddy inland London links will be
entirely remodelled under expert supervision, and the turf and subsoil
treated so that it is a pleasure to play on them even during the winter
months.

The time will also come when even some of the championship courses will
be entirely remodelled under expert supervision, and when these clubs
will realise how little they have made of the natural advantages that
Providence has provided for them.

    _Printed in Great Britain
    by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury,
    for Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co., Ltd._



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