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Donald Ross: He Did it His Way
BY DICK TAYLOR
This article, excerpted with permission from the book "Pinehurst Stories," was written by Dick Taylor, who died in 1997.
Diplomatic. Mean. Benign. A loner. Genius. Copycat. Helpful. Stubborn.
Whatever such enigmatic recollections of one man’s personality may add to, Donald Ross did it his way.
Ross would be a most surprised, but pleased, person to learn he had become a household name in his world of golf. The acknowledged patriarch and patron saint of American golf course architects refused biographical-type interviews and avoided the limelight, saying, "My work will tell my story."
It has and it hasn’t. A hero among all golfers, but a mystery man.
That he has designed as many, or more, classic courses as anyone in his profession is accepted. That he believed that less was better, hated penal courses, and with a passion avoided water on his courses, is now being understood. And why.
That his design assistants now are his legacy is not as well known. There were and are some greats: Henson and Ellis Maples, Dick Wilson and Robert von Hagge can be counted. Content to toil in the Ross vineyard rather than seek fame and fortune on their own were "my right and left arms," as he would often call construction engineers Walter P. Hatch and J.B. McGovern; draftsman Walter Irving Johnson; his buddy and secretary, Eric Nelson; and perhaps his most important aide, Frank Maples, who was Ross’s original greenkeeper and grew into his office manager when Ross’s design interests took him across country. No monuments to them, but they were true disciples.
Happily, the beat goes on as Dan Maples (third generation) has picked up the family banner and has developed into a leading architect, with two fine courses in the the Pinehurst area and an expanding worldwide representation. He served a term as president of the American Society of Golf Course Architects, of which Ross was a founder.
And Ross’s disciples are myriad. Leading them is Paul (Pete) Dye, Jr., who has never gone a day in his adult life without referring to Ross or Pinehurst No. 2, which he considered the genesis of all courses. Pete will be remembered by two factions in golf: foes who played only his TPC courses, built to order; and fans who played TPCs but also his traditional Ross/Scottish-influenced courses (railroad ties are pure Scottish, not a Dye invention nor contrivance).
The Ross influence is as widespread as is his fame. In the Atlantic seaboard states you can’t help but bump into a Ross course; there are originals in many other areas as well. But of the 600 he is credited with, even his most ardent admirers will have to admit some had to be remodels. And then there are his "mail-order" courses. Demand for Ross’s work was so high that often he’d route a course from topographical maps, and construction would begin before he could get to the site. Ross expert E. Pete Jones of Golf Research Associates in Raleigh, attributes 385 to the man himself.
His courses all had a seamless, timeless quality as a signature as opposed to obvious trademarks our young practitioners feel compelled to insinuate on their work. A veteran player can stand on a tee of a course new to him, or her, and predict, "Great! This is a Ross course!"
JoAnne Carner made such an exclamation at Kahkwa Club in Erie, Pa., before embarking on her first U.S. Women’s Open triumph in 1971.
How did she know? "From the first tee you could see exactly what you had to do. Then there was that nearly hidden swale in front of the green. It had to be a Ross. I love his courses."
That may be terribly brief and simplistic, but it just may explain Ross’s work and his philosophy. No tricks, no surprises, no water if possible, bunkering showing you the route, framing greens, and generous fairways. The latter "trademark" offers an option off the tee: you may either choose to keep a drive in play, or carefully study the day’s cup placement, which dictates a particular driving area if you need a birdie. He did not demand any one strength to play his courses, but buster, you had better be able to pitch and chip.
In the 1970s and into the ‘80s, Ross started to become something of a cult figure.
The United States Golf Association, by this period, had placed 38 national championships on his courses. During a U.S.Open week, pro tourists would endlessly praise the "old-fashioned" concept of design after having just come off an event at one of the "golden arches" TPC chain courses. The practice of bringing today’s breed of architect to "protect" these fine old courses from the encroachment of added distance has become prevalent. But when they began imposing their own philosophies — a la putting Whistler’s Mother in a Barca-Lounger — purists become bellicose. During a U.S. Open held on a revamped Ross course that had suddenly sprouted water, Tom Weiskopf suggested to a large group at lunch the formation of a preservation society for Ross courses.
"The membership fee," said Tom, "would be $200 and half would go toward the purchase of a shotgun." There since has been formed such a society, but not of militant nature. These like-minded golfers, all of whom play on home-club Ross designs, once yearly pay homage to one of his courses with a friendly tournament. Naturally, No. 2 was the starting place.
A pleasant interlude during that week in Pinehurst in the spring of 1990 for Ross devotees was a party hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Wayne Ashby, who purchased the Ross home on Midland Road, which overlooks the third hole of No. 2. The Ashbys carefully and lovingly restored the home, and they’ve also put up a brass plaque denoting its historical significance. Ross also owned the Pine Crest Inn, one of several small English-style hostelries in the Village, now a local watering hole as well as tourist accommodation owned by the Bob Barrett family.
This, quite naturally, brings us to Dornoch, Scotland, as you shall see. Having lived in Ross Country, a/k/a Pinehurst, for more than a quarter-century (which makes me a newcomer), having played 90 percent of my golf on Ross courses, never seeing a Ross course I didn’t like, I felt it behooved me to go to the roots.
It was during a period, unfortunately, when I was recovering from a severe broken ankle (suffered on a Ross course, oddly). But watching my companions the first three holes, I ditched my cane and played 16 holes the next day, to the later horror of my Pinehurst doctor, who scolded me over my reripped tendons.
Not one regret from this decision, as I found Royal Dornoch to be one of the most exciting golf courses I have ever played. One pleasant jolt after another as you reached the next tee. Sweeping sea vistas, little mesa greens, one par-three that whipped us all, subtly crowned greens and breaks and bounces. In springtime the vivid yellow gorse distracts you, even though giant hares had ravaged the course during this visit. In the distance the animals looked like Airedales gone wrong. That night I was assisted to — what else? — the Donald Ross Suite at the Royal Golf Hotel, where the staff brought to me a bucket of ice to reduce swelling, and a seven-course supper. When you reach your 60s, I figured, you had to do things like that, sacrifice your body. What if I never got back to Dornoch?
(USGA Executive Director David Fay had those thoughts in July of 1990 en route to the British Open. He flew to Inverness first, rented a car, got to Dornoch around 11 a.m. and immediately was put in a game with members. After the round and a quick lunch, he joined a local couple for another 18. It was only 7 p.m. when he completed that round, so he went out by himself for yet another 18. Had he been really serious, he could have gone another nine before midnight gloaming — it never gets totally dark in Dornoch in July. Such is the magic of Scottish golf, and Royal Dornoch in particular.)
It is a sweet little village of no more than 1,200 or so residents, with most buildings made of sandstone. It may just seem so, but all lanes appear to cant toward the firth and the famed old course. This tranquility can’t last. A bridge over a firth is being built that will cut almost one hour from a long drive from St. Andrews.
It was here that young Donald worked on the green crew, and club secretary John Sutherland took an interest in this bright youth. The secretary would also become a legend, holding the post for 50 years and being the last to make design changes on the course that had Old Tom Morris and James Braid as early designers. Ross left his imprint during a visit from America. Ross was born on Nov. 23, 1872. His father was a stonemason, his mother a nurse. They lived in the middle dwelling of a three-flat building. Formal education was not as useful as a trade, so Sutherland recommended Donald learn the golf trade at St. Andrews. The youngster soaked up all facets of the business working for Forgan’s Clubmakers and Morris, the club and ballmaker and architect. History was in the making. Ross had been an apprentice carpenter, played brass in the town band and was one of the better junior golfers in town.
Tom Morris became the first assistant golf pro, or apprentice to a pro, when the legendary Alan Robertson took him on as a feathery ballmaker. Later his son, Young Tom, would learn the trade as well. Robertson has been acknowledged as the first club professional, serving the Royal and Ancient, and he was never beaten in the big-money exhibitions, the only competition in those days.
The advent of the gutta-percha ball led to Morris’s split with his mentor.
Robertson not only had a stock of featheries to sell, but he didn’t feel the gutta was the wave of the future. So Tom began his own business in the store that still sits along the 18
Th green on the Old Course. And among his assistants was Donald Ross.
Young Donald was taught to repair and make clubs and balls. He learned whatever art there was to greenkeeping at the time and trailed around after Morris as he designed courses. At age 20, Ross was hired back by Sutherland to be his greenkeeper and head professional.
When I made my Dornoch pilgrimage, I sat in the upper lounge and chatted a full afternoon with members strolling in from the monthly medal. Few were aware of the full impact this homegrown hero had made in the United States, and all were interested in anything I could tell them. The Oldest Member shook his head and said, "And we don’t even have a marker on his birthplace." When Rick Reilly of Sports Illustrated came to Dornoch later that year and wove a graceful paean to Ross and course, a brass marker was put on the Ross homestead, No. 3 St. Gilbert St., not unlike the one on his Pinehurst home. "It won’t bother the tenant," said the Oldest Member. "He’s deaf."
Ross was 20 years old when he began his new role at Dornoch. At age 27 he made a huge decision for one so young. Opportuned by a regular visitor to Dornoch, Harvard professor Robert Wilson, Ross made his way to Oakley Country Club in Watertown, Mass., where he eventually built a home. It was here that, at the behest of the patriarch of the Tufts family, the direction of Ross’s life changed once again.
Tufts’ fortune came from the invention and manufacturing of the beautiful, marble soda fountain. He parlayed his wealth by establishing a health resort just off Highway 1 (and the Florida East Coast rail line) in North Carolina, five miles from the village of Southern Pines, and named it Pinehurst. It was to be a haven fall through spring for those ailing from chest complications. The Holly Inn was the first structure, built in 1895. A barn for a dairy herd was next.
But these walking wounded visitors were not ill enough to be inactive, and soon they were hitting golf balls amid the cows in the pasturelands, the only open property in his 5,000 acres of pine forest. So a rudimentary nine-hole course was built. When Tufts learned of Ross’s background, he asked him to come to Pinehurst in the northern "off-season" and build a course. Quickly, Pinehurst became a golf resort. Visitors liked what they saw, and soon Ross was dedicating a lot of time to design.
That he worked with familiar land was plain luck. Out of the Sandhills of North Carolina, Ross carved four courses for Pinehurst Country Club and built wonderful layouts for Pine Needles, Mid Pines and Southern Pines Country Club, all within a six-mile radius. As at Dornoch, he had sandy soil with which to work (the Sandhills area is thought to have been a huge inland sea at one time).
Developers continue to uncover golf holes scattered around the area, as parts of the original No. 4 course were abandoned, as was a nine-hole course reserved for Pinehurst staff. "The help’s course" began where the fourth hole on Course No. 2 sits today and unfolded on property that now contains the No. 7 course, designed by traditionalist Rees Jones.
With very little earth-moving — Ross worked via mule and drag-pan — he subtly implanted his Scottish heritage in mounding, bunkering, breaking greens and fairness.
The latter trait is not found in all Scottish courses. Lee Trevino described Troon as playing golf on "an unmade bed" with little hope of controlling the finish of a driver. The true devotee who has played the Old Course at St. Andrews knows exactly what Trevino is talking about when an otherwise perfectly struck ball goes caroming off the fairway after striking hidden swales and knobs.
When Ross agreed to build courses in Pinehurst, they were used, at most, seven months of the year. As part of his arrangement he insisted they be maintained by a greenkeeper year-round so they would be ready for the high seasons, which were George Washington’s Birthday through mid-May, and mid-September up to Thanksgiving. All has changed now, of course, as all amenities are open 12 months.
(The area is becoming a designer’s boutique: In addition to seven Ross courses, there are layouts at one stage of completion or another by the late George Fazio and nephew Tom, another by Tom himself, two by Dan Maples, one Ellis Maples/Willard Byrd collaboration, Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, Tom Jackson, Rees Jones, Trent Jones the elder, and now Gary Player. You could shop for a designer here.)
Ten years after his arrival in North Carolina, his design business had gotten so big that his former greenkeeper, Frank Maples, was now the autocratic manager of the company and its books, schedules and office. He had two full-time engineer/construction men, and he began apprenticing young hopefuls.
By the 1930s he was the premier architect, with only the global-minded Alister Mackenzie and bright newcomer Robert Trent Jones as rivals. His credits by this time included The Broadmoor in Colorado; Wampanoag in Connecticut; Belleair, The Biltmore, Gulf Stream and renowned Seminole in Florida; Savannah GC, East Lake (redesign) and Augusta CC in Georgia; Beverly, Bob O’Link, Oak Park and Ravisloe in Illinois; French Lick in Indiana; Chevy Chase and Congressional (redesign) in Maryland; Cohasset, Oyster Harbor and Longmeadow in Massachusetts; Oakland Hills, Detroit GC and Dearborn in Michigan; Bretton Woods in New Hampshire; Echo Lake, Essex Falls, Montclair, Plainfield and remodeled plain Jane Seaview in New Jersey; Inverness (remodeled nine and added nine), Scioto and Brookside in Ohio; Aronimink, Gulph Mills, Kahkwa and Whitemarsh Valley in Pennsylvania; Agawam Hunt, Newport (remodel) and Wannamoisett in Rhode Island; Burlington CC in Vermont; The Homestead and CC of Virginia in Virginia; Essex, Elmhurst and Rosedale in Canada; and CC of Havana and Havana Biltmore in Cuba.
In addition to his Pinehurst area courses, he is responsible for other North Carolina designs such as Asheville CC, Biltmore Forest, Forsyth, Highlands, Linville, Mimosa Hills (Billy Joe Patton’s teething ring) and Sedgefield. In 1922 he remodeled all 18 at Royal Dornoch and later put in two holes of his own.
Whew! This but about one-eighth of his work.
He began as manager of golf at Pinehurst, became the all-powerful secretary, and when he surrendered much of his power at the club to devote time to architecture, he had been both corporation and club president.
That he was the boss of golf at the club during this period was a given, and he drew a staff around him, some from Dornoch, to whom he passed on clubmaking.
Rod Innes was one of his Dornoch boys. He is retired now after a career that survived Ross’s fetish for perfection, then to managerial duties at a local bank, then Pine Needles, and finally, as treasurer for Golf World magazine, which has since been sold to The New York Times and moved north. Rod’s father was a Ross friend and followed him to America.
Rod’s memories of Ross are still vivid. "He was tough. He didn’t miss a thing," Innes says. "He called all his clubmakers together one day and showed them a woodworking tool with a blunted edge. He had been a carpenter at one stage of his life and understood the importance of well-kept tools. While he berated us he put a fine edge to the tool on a sanding wheel. We did not forget the message.
"One time the caddies talked of a strike unless wages were raised. Ross heard of this, walked to the caddie pen, asked the leader what was going on. Hearing the grievance, he whacked the caddie on the head with his ever-present five-iron and informed him the strike was over."
"He could be mean," recalls Peter Tufts, great-grandson of Pinehurst founder James Tufts. "He was to my great-grandfather who hired him. He wanted his way. I was fascinated as a kid following around after him, watching him shape greens." It got in Tufts’ blood, too. He had input on the No. 5 course, the Seven Lakes course in this area is his from start to finish, and he has several other projects, mostly remodels. Pete has to be the least flamboyant member of a highly individualistic group of land-planning architects.
No. 2’s history is baffling, until historian/Golf Digest columnist Charles Price explains. From 1901 to his death, Donald Ross fine-tuned this layout. He incorporated holes with other courses, abandoned others.
No. 2’s evolution: 1901: nine holes. 1903: remodeled nine. 1907: added nine. 1923: remodeled two holes. 1933: remodeled entire course. 1934: remodeled three holes. 1935: remodeled all 18 for a reason important to him. And 1946: remodeled one hole.
The great Bob Jones had praised Ross’s work at Augusta CC, according to Price, and Ross thought he had an agreement with this legend that he would build Jones’ dream course in his native Georgia. But when Jones played Cypress Point in California, he nominated its architect, Mackenzie, for the co-design that is now Augusta National GC (this course has had a dozen architects since fine-tune it).
An angered Ross set aside all work to concentrate on his final plans for No. 2. He was going to bring in, first, the finest golf course in the South.
By now he had eight foremen in his company and could afford hands-on, daily attention to No. 2. All the while, Ross kept his game honed. He won three North and South Opens and two Massachusetts Opens. But younger brother Alex topped him with a victory in the 1907 U.S. Open and five North and South titles. His swing was compared to Bobby Jones’s.
Ross became a loner, says Innes, when he lost his first wife. Ross had saved enough money to bring nurse Janet Conchie from Dornoch, where she had waited six years. She died in 1922, leaving a daughter, Lillian. He remarried in 1924, to Mrs. Florence Blackinton, who died in 1954. Ross himself passed away in April 1948, just after his No. 2 course enjoyed one its finest moments of amateur golf — the North and South triumph of popular collegian Harvie Ward over Frank Stranahan.
Ross was firm in his beliefs and capabilities, and that made him seem stubborn. Early demands made it seem he was building many courses from the same plans, mimicking Scottish holes, but he could not keep pace with demands and thus accepted his "mail-order" jobs.
His fame spread abroad via the North and South Amateur (now 91 years old), the North and South Open (held annually on No. 2 until 1952), the PGA Championship (1936) and the Ryder Cup (1951). He was compared, more than favorably, to Scottish designers. Every modern-day designer should be made to play No. 2 until he understands what subtle ways a green can be protected from a foozled chip or pitch. He was the premier strategic designer. Expert players delight in the examination they undergo on his courses; yet the less-talented can enjoy a round in what they perceive as a wide-open course with cantankerous greens.
Jack Nicklaus: "Other architects may lead a player to negative thinking on-course, but his courses led to positive thinking. His stamp as an architect was naturalness."
Richard S. Tufts was the third generation leader of Pinehurst. He also became America’s "Mr. Golf" through his involvement with the United States Golf Association. Among his contributions was simplification of the Rules of Golf. He sat on every committee and rose to the association presidency. Tufts was the consummate volunteer amateur golfer. He and Ross were great friends.
When relatives sold their Pinehurst stock in 1970 to Diamondhead Inc., a land-development company, Tufts was so distraught he phoned me to say that anything written for Golf World should include the fact that he had nothing to do with the sale. His life had been shattered. The future of Pinehurst as the world had known it for 75 years was in doubt. "In writing this story," he requested, "please say that my son, Peter, and I had nothing to do with this sale. It was forced upon us." His strong hand at the helm, maintaining even (many called it snail’s-paced) growth, had been overruled.
The change may have been unthinkable, but it was inevitable. There were swift additions to the resort by the new group: No. 6 Course, the Member’s Clubhouse, a tennis complex. The PGA Tour came to town for a decade to complement the new World Golf Hall of Fame. For those who loved the old Pinehurst, the bad news was waves of prospective buyers hustled in to inspect the lots, houses and condominiums that were now available. "Fore in the condos," was the dark joke that circulated. It was the only "go-go" time in Pinehurst history. In truth, this dowager queen had finally been discovered.
Many surprises followed the sale until Club Corp. of America bought out the floundering management that had turned assets over to a consortium of banks holding loans. The treasure was back in the hands of golf people. Pinehurst had survived because no one would think of altering the founders’ New England village. And always there was the presence of Ross golf courses. The Untouchables.
There remains a strong sense of responsibility to the preservation of the history that is the fiber of Pinehurst. Richard Tufts’ description of Ross’s creations perhaps explains the solid continuity:
"There was nothing vulgar about his work."
Thankfully, there is nothing vulgar about Pinehurst, as well. Harry Vardon could today roam the Village and stand at the first tee, as he had done, and hardly know the 21st century was approaching.
This article is from "Pinehurst Stories: A Celebration of Great Golf and Good Times" by Lee Pace.
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