Pebble Beach’s designers were smart enough to lay out the course in a figure-eight that made the oceanfront part of the strategy, first on the right, then after a second inland interlude (holes 11-16) on the left coming in.
use it—both in ways that are scarcely possible today thanks to strict regula- tion of waterways and shorelines. What makes Pebble Beach a joy
modern golf design. Instead, the classic-era designers aligned their hazards on a diagonal, or halfway across the ideal line, thereby requiring you to commit to carrying it, playing short or to the side. At Pinehurst No. 2, the masterpiece of Donald Ross (1872-1948) that he tinkered with and perfected over a 40-year span before his death, the fairway bunkers aren’t designed to catch a shot that wanders left or right. They are designed to help define the ideal approach angle, to entice you to play boldly or conserva- tively and to punish you if you have dared to bite off more of the angle than you can actually chew. Ross, like other Golden Age de-
signers, loved golf and wanted others to enjoy the game. They weren’t out to make you suffer and they weren’t out to punish high-handicappers. Nor were they simply designing for championship play. They appreci- ated golf as a game, a moral test of one’s character and of how well the golfer knew his or her own abilities. And if you wandered astray, the idea wasn’t to beat you up by forcing you to punch out sideways from knee- high rough; instead, they believed that from the rough you ought to have the opportunity to play a good recovery— not that it would be easy, but that it would be possible, and it would be a matter of skilled execution if you did.
At Pinehurst No. 2, for example,
the real craftsmanship was in the greens Ross built. There were no flat spots and no steady slopes; everything was moving in three dimensions, and depending upon where the hole was cut there were advantages to ap- proaching from one side or the other. So the skill required was in selecting
The classic era architects understood golf as a walking game. There were no motorized golf carts back then.
the right line, or in getting back to it. And the interesting features were all ground game elements where you had to judge the weight of shots and figure out what would happen to the golf ball once it landed on the ground. The classic era architects under-
stood golf as a walking game. There were no motorized golf carts back then. Nor was there any consideration for stretching out the space between holes to maximize home lots and golf course frontage for real estate. The links from green to tee were minimal, and you could easily “roll off/roll on” without a cross-country hike between holes. It helped that the classic era archi- tects had considerable latitude when it came to working a site. The state of environmental regulation in the first half of the 20th century was such that if a wetland got in the way they’d drain it, and if a creek presented itself they’d
to this day is the “walk in the park” effect of its routing. And it’s perhaps here, more than anywhere else, that the Golden Age designers were inge- nious. Back in 1919, the keen amateur golfers who designed Pebble Beach— Douglas Grant and Jack Neville— were neophyte architects but keen ob- servers who appreciated the Monterey Peninsula. And so their placement of holes on this singular golf course starts with a tease by heading inland before playing along the shore. And they were smart enough to lay out the course in a figure-eight that made the oceanfront part of the strategy, first on the right, then after a second inland interlude (holes 11-16) on the left coming in. The shifting rhythm of the waterfront presence and the sense of anticipation and delay create a considerable part of the excitement
one feels when playing Pebble Beach. Above all, the Golden Age archi- tects built golf courses on the ground. Not having access to massive earth- moving machinery, they were forced to utilize interesting ground contours and amend the areas or scratch them up a bit to make them look wild and somewhat untamed. So when MacK- enzie, working on Pasatiempo, faced the setting for the famed 16th green (387-yard par-4) on the toe of a slope above the fairway, you can bet he relished the chance to build a putting surface that looked like it was hang- ing on for dear life. It’s one of those treasured settings for golf that make classic design so inspiring and endur- ing. More than 80 years later, that green still makes golfers quiver. And makes them feel lucky to be playing places that are the handiwork of the game’s Golden Age.
Bradley S. Klein is the longtime architecture editor of Golfweek. His latest book is “Discovering Donald Ross” (expanded edition, 2011). SUMMER 2012 /
NCGA.ORG / 49
PHOTO: JOANN DOST
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